#i bought a really high quality case for this phone and am definitely going to do better re: overcharging
Text
cellphone completely died out of absolutely nowhere last night when i got home from work so i had to spend money that i don’t have to buy a “new” one 🙃
#kayleigh.txt#i had a samsung galaxy s20 ultra and now i have a samsung galaxy s21 fe which is a significant downgrade but alas 🤷🏼♀️#i simply donʼt have the money to purchase a $1000+ brand new phone#i bought a really high quality case for this phone and am definitely going to do better re: overcharging#because the s20 ultra could hardly hold a fucking charge anymore#idek what happened but yeah#had a massive mental and emotional breakdown last night but thankfully i have one (1) irl friend who helped me#gps my way to the store to pickup my unlocked phone 👏🏻#on that note iʼve hardly slept the past 24+ hours so... nap time 💀#also: thank fuck for payment plans 🥲
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Consideration and Generosity
----------------
Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noire, DCU
Characters: Marinette, Damian
----------
She sat on a park bench that day; the weather was hot yet, cloudy.
Despite the uncomfortable sweat clinging to her being and the buzzing noise of her surroundings, she smiled happily. She would do anything for inspiration, even endure the blistering feeling of the sun.
Soon enough it has been hours since she began to sketch and draw designs for clothing she wishes to make true.
She feels her head is off, so she takes a break to answer a text from her mother.
----------
(Mom) Marinette, are you still at the park? It's been five hours.
(Me) Yep! Just taking a break.
(Mom) Just now? It's really hot outside, have you eaten? What about water?
(Me) Don't worry! I'm fine! I stayed in the shade the whole time.
(Mom) Okay, but I want a picture of you eating.
(Me) Okay, I will. I love you!
(Mom) I love you too.
----------------------
Marinette, packs her sketch books and other materials a way in her bag. She stands up, only to tip over onto someone walking past her.
"Hey, you-"
The person stops to keep her from falling all the way down.
"Uh... I'm sorry, I guess I should have taken a break earlier."
She tries to break a way from the strangers grip. They let her go easily. They began to walk a little further a way with a eye in her direction. She sits down again to collect herself. She takes a few breaths and thinks about how to get up without falling and embarrassing herself.
"I wish I packed a water bottle or something, I knew it was hot but I thought I would be fine....", she thought to herself.
She checked her bag in case she just forgot. Lo and behold there was a water bottle in one of the outside pockets.
"Huh....? That's strange, I was sure I......oh well.", she shrugged it off as her forgetting.
Feeling a little better, she carefully stood up. Having not fallen, she smiled and picked up her full bag. She walks in the direction of a small restaurant to eat, since she wouldn't make it home before hunger got to her.
She walked like she wasn't being followed. Casual and slow, she took in the buildings a round her. The same as her memories told her, but still just as beautiful.
Once she got to an empty table, she sat her bag down in front of her. The waitress walks up to her with a smile.
"Hello! Here is the menu, please take your time. Though I do suggest today's special! Mushroom soup with broccoli, carrots, and rice."
"Thank you."
"No problem!"
The waitress leaves her be and she focuses on the menu. It seems that this restaurant is all about healthy living.
She hums to herself as she thinks of her order. However, everything sounded wonderful and she couldn't decide. Then she heard a waitress bring someone's order of a tofu and veggie stuffed bell peppers with a side salad. So she looked over to see the meal and found that it looked delicious. She also saw they ordered tomato juice.
Looking at the menu one more time, she located the meal, drink and picked out a dessert on her own.
As soon as she put her menu down, the waitress came up to her with her pen and notepad out.
"Ready to order?"
"Yes, I would like the Tofu and Veggie stuffed Bell peppers with a side salad, tomato juice, and the vanilla, soy bean ice cream."
"Would you like a topping?"
"Yes, let's see....oh! The coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle."
"To repeat: Tofu, veggie stuff bell peppers, side salad, tomato juice, vanilla soy bean ice cream with coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle?"
"Yes."
"Okay, we will right on it!"
Marinette took out her phone as she waited. She texted her mom, that she was at a restaurant nearby. Her mom reminded her to send a picture of her eating.
A few minutes later and her food was brought to her.
"Thank you so much!"
"It's no problem, dear, tell me if you need anything!"
The waitress leaves to let her eat. She sends a picture of her food to her mom, who responded with the words 'smile and heart'.
--------
Change perspective
--------
His day was normal. He woke up and dealt with the hooligans that plagued his life. He was currently in Paris as a part of a stake out group. His family dispersed during day to do individual actives. His father wanted him near by, but he argued that he didn't need to be monitored.
His father conceded by saying he must practice being considerate of other people and to update him on how it is going and if he needs help. He was more than reluctant to agree. Regardless, he did.
He didn't like the loose nature of his apparel for the day, but had no chouce due to the heat.
Though by no means is his clothing loose in comparison to others definition. He prefers to be dignified at all times.
Most of the day, he had nothing report to his father that was particularly considerate until he notice the ragged look of a girl a round his age. She looked dehydrated and ill. He scoffs at her lack of self preservation until he notice she was immersed in some kind of sketching. He also remembered his has to be 'considerate' today so he will say she was lost to passion. After all, this is Paris, the city known for passion.
He watches her as she unconsciously squints and makes a grim expression at times. She sways ever so slightly.
In his observations, she stopped her work to look at her phone. Her condition is not well. He walks a little closer with a water bottle he bought. The moment he walked next to her and she stood, he stabilized her and slipped the water bottle in her bag as she spoke, trying to clear her head. She was drenched in sweat.
"Father better be grateful, I am being more than generous with being 'considerate', disgusting.", he thought with distain.
He hurried a way from her only to stop a short distance a way to watch her more and to sanitize his hands; to rid himself of the horrid feeling of her sweat.
The girl swayed less than before, but after updating his father of what happened, he was ordered to tail her. What if she collapsed? His efforts would have been in vain if that was so.
He was slightly frustrated and her slow pace did nothing to help. He only felt a bit better at her choice of eatery. He saw that she was heading for a Healthy Living Restaurant and went a head of her to sit down. He typed to his father that the girl was trying to decide what to eat. He was instructed to do what he thought best if he were to interfere at all. So he picked the most sensible option for her condition, in return, she followed and added something to her order.
He ate quietly and finished before her. He then left a large tip; the service was quick, the food palatable, atmosphere was pleasant and he doubted the girl had much on her. Enough to pay perhaps, but she would then be left with nothing else.
She seemed to be middle class, and the middle class does not make much little wealth, to him at least. Sure, her clothing was quite good with quality, but her manners weren't all that remarkable and nothing else about her was either.
Polite, is what she was. Quiet, unnoticeable, and polite.
To him, she was a foolish girl that dreamed too much and did little for her own well-being. Truly the epitome of moronic whelps.
After he left the restaurant, he watched from a distance. Through the window, he saw her tempt to pay, only to be denied. He smirked, perhaps he should visit this particular restaurant again and maybe even invest a bit?
He felt his phone buzz, his father typed, wanting to be updating on the status of the girl. It became apparent that some of the hooligans are now aware of his sudden punish- mission. Yes, this is a mission.
Protecting such weak plebeians is the duty of his father and him, also the unsightly hooligans- not well in his opinion- but he shall add them this once.
"Father is surely proud of how 'considerate' and 'generous' I am.", he believes, "Excessively so."
------
The day ends with Marinette safely returning home and the still mysterious young man facing his mismatched family.
The young man remained considerate as he ignored the jeers of the hooligans until he realized, he didn't have to any more and retorted as though his words came from the high heavens.
---------
The next time he checked in on the young lady, he had some knowledge of her background he shouldn't and decided to continue to see to it that she is well taken care.
"It's called being an arrogant, egotistical xsshxle with a God complex. She doesn't need your 'consideration', she is not a charity case!"
One loud problem claimed as he tuned him out.
---------
The young man did visit the restaurant once more and she was there. She would visit often and order the same thing as he had the first time. There were times she ordered something else and he would try things she experimented with, minus the meat.
She ordered meat less and less the more she came to the restaurant, he noticed. He had no clue why, since she obviously had no problem eating it.
He didn't order sweets as often as she did, but he would on occasion, get something with a little bit of sweetness to it; like the dried fruit sandwich with any type of sauce it can come with. The sandwich had fresh, and air dried fruit. There would be other ingredients and such to change the flavor of the sandwich, making it a popular item on the menu.
------
Change Perspective
--------
She felt like she has seen the same guy a lot over the past two months and is slightly worried. After some thought to it and the more she believed she was over thinking it and that it was pure coincidence. She did know, however, he had good taste in food and art. Plus that animals are so cute!! He couldn't be all bad if animals liked him.
She would walk a little closer and sometimes walk a little farther from him and since he never moved, she felt better. It really was a coincidence to her knowledge.
Eventually, she would would stop seeing him. He was a tourist, so of course he would leave at some point. Still, she was a little sad.
Oh well, school is starting soon, maybe she'll make friends to fill the loneliness her pretend friend left her.
She liked to pretend this stranger was her friends and that they hung out, since she saw him in most places that she was. She saw him at the restaurant and sometimes the park and rarely he would be at the museum. Technically he wasn't everywhere and not as frequent as she made it seem like he was, but if was often enough to remember him.
"You should have talked to him, get his number."
"But then he might have thought I was hitting on him! I just wanted a friend..."
"Sweetie, look on bright side! Either you can cherish memories that made you happy or you can forget him and move on. You don't know what life has in-store for you, it could be fun!"
"Thank you, mom. You too dad, I will see what happens."
"On that note, want help me frost some cakes?"
"Yes!!!"
-----
The end.
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
1 Million Views (M)
An EXO-SC threesome request!
This is pure filthy smut
Also PLS I know their song is 1 Billion Views but that wasn’t realistic for what I was going for lmao ENJOY!
---
After adding the final touches to your look for the night, you pick up your phone and text the group chat. The group chat containing you and your two best friends, Park Chanyeol and Oh Sehun, titled, unoriginally, The 3 Musketeers!
“Are you boys ready for tonight? I’m starting in 30 minutes and you’re still not here. Don’t try to chicken out on me.”
You’re a cam girl and although you normally do solo videos, you were reading some comments on one of your videos and came across a man who wrote that he would “pay extra to see this girl get fucked by 2 dudes at once!” Naturally you see your favorite words, “pay more,” and immediately start thinking about every guy you know or would even feel comfortable with fucking at the same time. You truly could not think of a more perfect pair than your best friends from high school.
You remember the day you asked them and how you were so nervous you wanted to throw up.
---
“Are you guys available for a 3 way FaceTime call right now?” You sent to the group chat.
Sehun texted back first, “Yep!”
Chanyeol not too long after, “Double yep!”
You take a deep breath as you press the FaceTime icon at the top of the group chat. It only rang 3 times before they both answered.
“Hey!!” Sehun shouts.
“Are we in trouble?” Chanyeol asks in a joking way.
You just let out a short laugh before changing back to your nervous demeanor.
“Oh man. I was joking are we really?” Chanyeol speaks up again.
“No... no you guys aren’t in trouble,” You let out a nervous laugh this time.
“Come on, what’s bugging you I can see the gears in your head spinning,” Sehun asks.
“Okay okay okay. I have a very serious question. I am 100% not joking when I ask this. I need a real, honest answer. Okay?
You watch as both Chanyeol and Sehun just nod their heads, staring at the screen.
“Okay?” You repeat.
“Yes yes okay.”
“Okay, honest answer, got it.”
After they both give you the response you were looking for you finally ask them.
“Would you guys be okay with being in a video with me? Like, on my cam series?”
It’s no secret to them what you do, they are your best friends after all.
You watch as Sehun’s jaws drop and Chanyeol’s eyes grow even more wider than they naturally are.
Chanyeol speaks first. “Like both of us in a video with you at the same time?”
You nod your head unable to look back at the screen. You’re secretly glad you did this through FaceTime and not in person. You don’t think you could’ve handled it.
You hear Sehun ask a question as well. “What exactly will we be doing?”
You clear your throat as your eyes find focus away from the phone screen and on a plant somewhere in your room.
“Well we would be doing some sexual things of course. Um...you guys would be, you know, doing things to me together.” Why is it suddenly so hard to explain what a threesome is?
“So we’re having a threesome? For your cam girl series?”
“Yes, if you guys are up for it? Someone commented that they would pay extra to see it, so I can of course split the money with you guys no problem. I will be promoting on my channel as something extra premium for my already premium customers, so I will definitely be making a lot more than usual.” You’re rambling now.
“I’m down,” Sehun says with a wicked smile.
“Me too, let’s get this bread!” Chanyeol adds.
You relax with their enthusiastic answers and you three all break into smiles as you begin to plan out all the details for your special video.
---
Chanyeol texts back, “Relax were outside come open the door.”
You smile and squeal getting all giddy because you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined fucking Chanyeol and Sehun at some point during the time you’ve known them. Now you’re about to fuck them both! At the same time!
You open the door and your greeted with both of their toothy smiles, you can't help but give them a toothy smile back.
“Come in, guys!” You say excitedly.
You’re wearing your robe right now because you want to get their raw reaction to what you’re wearing underneath when you turn on the camera.
You lead them down the hallway to your room. In the corner you’ve got a red sheet on the wall as a back ground, you’ve got your camera set up on the tripod with a big ring light around it.
“This is a nice set up!” Sehun says, genuinely impressed.
“Sehun, I’m a professional. I have to have the best quality videos out there.” You say with a proud smile.
They both let out a little laugh.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” You pick up the two black ski masks you bought for them. “I wasn’t sure if you guys were comfortable with showing your faces on camera, so I got you these just in case!”
“Oh this is perfect, thanks.” Chanyeol says as he grabs one.
Sehun takes off his shirt before grabbing his and putting it on.
You admire his slender, yet muscular frame. His pale skin making it look even more majestic. The faint outlines of a six pack showing. You’re ready to start touching him already.
You look over and see Chanyeol has done the same. His body is just as attractive as Sehun’s. His skin slightly more tanned, muscles more defined. You want to give him a nice long lick from the hem of his pants to his neck. With their masks on, it’s hard to focus on anything but their bodies.
Your alarm goes off, pulling you out of your trance, letting you know it’s time to start. “Okay are you guys ready? Don’t forget this is LIVE.” You put emphasis on live because you guys talked about it before and had to carefully plan it so it would look as natural as possible. You don’t want your viewers knowing you’ve never had sex with them before. You like for them to think you’re a dirty girl even off camera, it really sells the persona you’ve created.
You physically place them on either side of you and look in the camera’s view finder to make sure it looks good.
You look over to Chanyeol, “Are you ready?” He gives you a wink.
You look over to Sehun and ask him the same. He responds by making a kissy face to you. You smile and press the start button on the computer, starting the live.
You watch as the viewer number climb rapidly. Once it hits 10,000 you start talking.
“Hi lovers.” You start if your most sultry voice you can muster, your cam voice. “I have two special guests with me today,” You run your hand down Sehun’s stomach, trying to ignore the way he tenses. “Over here we have Mr. S.” You move over to Chanyeol and do the same. “And on this side we have Mr. C.”
With your robe still tied, you let it slip off your shoulders just a little bit, using your forearms to keep it up. You notice in the view finder Chanyeol and Sehun both turn their heads to you, watching you.
“I hear my lovers were just dying to see me get fucked by two men. Is this true?” You watch the comments and reactions flow in on your computer. You look back at the camera with a sexy smirk and finally untie and drop the robe completely.
Under the robe your breast are completely bare and your panties are black lace, crotchless thongs. You put on a bit of body glitter on your chest, you notice your viewers love when you’re sparkly. You’ve got some dark lipstick and a dark cat eye to match.
You are sure to keep eye contact with the camera as your hands find Sehun’s dick through his sweatpants. You start rubbing him through his pants making sure the outline is very evident for the viewers to see. You look over your shoulder at Chanyeol who is rubbing himself through his sweatpants.
“Ohh lovers, I think Mr. C is getting a little jealous watching me give all my attention to Mr. S.” You watch Chanyeol pull his dick out and start jerking off while staring very deeply into your eyes. You movements almost falter on Sehun’s dick. You’re trying your hardest to keep it together, this is live!
You break the eye contact and look back to the camera, “Actually, lovers, I think this is making Mr. C very horny.” You pull Sehun’s pants down to his ankles and he kicks it off the rest of the way. “Let’s give him a little more to watch.”
You turn your full attention to Sehun and wrap your hand around his dick as you jerk him slowly. Then you pull him down for a heated kiss with your other hand. Sehun’s hands grip your waist on either side. Your mouths begin to move in sync and you slip your tongue into his mouth and he gladly sucks on it pulling a moan out of you. As the kiss gets deeper you feel a third hand roughly grab your right breast, the one closer to the camera, and you can feel the head a Chanyeol’s dick against your ass. You start pushing back against him and he lets out a moan. You let go of Sehun’s dick to pull him closer so that his is rubbing against your clit. You have Chanyeol grinding against your ass and Sehun against your clit. You could cum right now.
The hand that was on your breast is now around your jaw and pulling you away from Sehun’s lips. Chanyeol turns you so that you're now in a heated kiss with him. Sehun’s takes this moment to kiss and lick all over your exposed neck. You feel Sehun continue to go further and further down your body until feel him lick at your clit. Chanyeol lets your jaw go and you can finally take a deep breath. You let a sensual moan as Sehun encases your clit with his mouth giving it a gentle suck. You lean your head back onto Chanyeols chest and he grabs your hand and it puts around his dick. He starts fucking into your hand as you try to meet his pace.
You turn back to the camera so your viewers can watch your face as you get your pussy ate while jerking off Chanyeol. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the viewfinder and even you have to admit the scene unfolding right now looks so good.
“You like how he’s eating your pussy huh? Are you going to cum on his face? I bet your lovers would love to watch you cum on his face.” Chanyeol suddenly says as his hands knead at your breast. Your eyes screw shut and you feel your hips begin to buck even more into Sehun’s face. That was so unexpected. They said they weren’t comfortable with speaking. You thought they would be silent.
Chanyeol starts sucking on your neck. “Come on, baby, cum on his face for me, I’m sure he’d love it too.” You look down and Sehun is already looking at you. You watch his tongue swirl around your clit before sucking on it again. The sight mixed with Chanyeol’s hands on your breast and his deep grunting in your ear as he fucks your hand makes your whole body come undone. You feel your orgasm take over you as you cry out that you’re cumming.
Your body starts to shake and Sehun holds your legs to keep you from squeezing his head while he helps you ride out your orgasm with soft, wide tongue licks. Chanyeol is peppering your neck with kisses, also attempting to help you ride this out.
Once you’ve finally come down, you glance over to the computer and see the view number climbing even more and lots of reactions and comments coming in. Aside from the amazing orgasm you just had, you’re also thinking about how much money you’re about to make from this special.
Sehun comes back up and pulls you to his lips, making you taste yourself. You moan into his mouth while Chanyeol finally pulls his sweatpants off. When you and Sehun finally pull away from each other you watch as Chanyeol walks closer to the camera holding his dick. Once he’s close enough, he starts shaking it around for your viewers. Oh, he loves this, you think to yourself.
“Should we fuck your sweet babydoll at the same time...” He looks back at you and Sehun, dick still in his hand, “Or take turns?” He’s incredibly comfortable in front of the camera behind that mask.
All three of your attentions turn over to the computer screen watching the viewers comments come in.
“Together!!”
“Fuck that slut at the same time she’ll fucking love it!”
“Her wet pussy can handle two dicks at the same time”
“We paid to see her fucked by two guys at once”
More and more comments of that nature keep rolling in and Chanyeol looks back to the camera, stroking his dick slowly. “Looks like babydoll’s pussy is about to get stretched out,” he says with a smirk.
There’s a rather large, pink bean bag chair behind you that you normally use for your solo acts. You take a seat on it and spread your legs as far as they’ll go, while Chanyeol adjusts the camera angle.
Once finished with camera he comes over to sit next you and shoves his index in middle finger in your mouth, knowing that he wants you to get them wet for your pussy. Sehun sits on the opposite side and shoves his same two fingers in your mouth too. Once they’re both moistened to their satisfaction they bring them down to your pussy.
Chanyeol slips them in you doing a scissoring motion to stretch you, Sehun doing the same.
It’s Sehun’s turn to talk, to your surprise. “We have to get baby dolls pussy prepared for us,” He says looking at the camera. “We want to make sure her pussy is stretched so good for the both of us.”
You lean your head back and let out a long moan as they both finger you with their index and middle fingers. You’ve never been this stretched out before and base on the size of their dicks, you’re a little nervous it might still be painful even after the prepping.
You feel someone’s thumb collect some of the wetness around your pussy and then start gently rubbing your clit. Your head snaps back up quickly and you suck your bottom lip in biting it hard. Your eyebrows crease and your eyes are screwed shit again. You feel like you could come again. Chanyeol leans in to kiss you and after not even two seconds of making out you feel Sehuns lips add to the mix. Here you are in a three way kiss with your two best friends and their fingers up your pussy. Never in a million years did you foresee this happening.
They both start moving down at the same time, kissing, licking, and sucking on either side of your neck. You can feel your face contorting again, you’re trying to catch your breath while the moans slips out very breathy. You can feel your pussy trying to clench and your legs start trembling. The warm feeling in your stomach getting warmer and warmer before spreading throughout your whole body.
“Ahhhh fuck! Ohhh fuck fuck fuck! I’m cumming again oh my fu-” You cut yourself with a loud, breathy moan as you reach the peak of your orgasm. Your face is all warm and sticky with a thin layer of sweat, your lips feel swollen. You’re sure you look fucked out and you haven’t even been fucked yet.
Once you’ve calmed down you open your eyes to see both Chanyeol and Sehun staring at you with wide eyes and their mouths slightly open. Looks like they enjoyed the show. You nod your head signaling that you’re ready for them.
Chanyeol stands first to go fix the camera angle again, this time zooming it in a little bit more to focus on where your pussy’s going to be. To help figure out where exactly you go ahead and move to sit on Sehun’s lap in the center of the bean bag. You align his tip with you glistening and already sensitive pussy and slide down with ease. Sehun scoots into a more laying down position and at an angle so the camera gets a great shot of your stretched out pussy.
Once Chanyeol gets the angle perfect he comes back in the frame, puts a little spit on his hand to rub on the tip of his dick. Then you feel him towards the back of your entrance. He sticks is finger in again trying to prepare you a little more to make this as painful as possible. Once he feels you’re ready, he finally slides in too.
The moan you let out came from deep within you. In no way did the stretch their four fingers did compare to the stretch both of their dicks did. It’s a bit painful and you have to put a hand on Chanyeol’s hip stopping him from going any deeper. You allow your pussy to get accustomed to the stretch before letting them start moving.
Once you’ve taken your hand away from his hip, Chanyeol takes it as a sign and is the first one to move. Sehun watches your face for any sign that you’re in pain and he notices you’re okay and starts moving underneath you as well.
Once they both get their rhythm they get very into it, they’re both moaning, yet they sound so different. You can’t even describe the feeling you have right now. Two dicks moving in you at the same time. It’s not the best feeling, but it’s also not the worst.
They start to speed up you can tell Chanyeol, especially, must be close. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind you, making you sit up in the process. You're a moaning mess along with them. Sehun has his feet firmly planted on the ground, allowing him to thrust up with even more speed. His hands are gripping your hips so hard, you’re sure there will be a bruise.
You and Sehun are staring into each other’s eyes. You wish you could see his whole face taken over with ecstasy. You so badly want to tear this masks off. Chanyeol lets go of one of your arms and wraps his hand around your neck. You reciprocate by using your free arm to reach back and pull him even closer with your hand tangled in his hair.
“You’re such a slut, babydoll, aren’t you?” Chanyeol says loud enough for your mic to catch.
You simply nod your head, not trusting your voice right now.
He lets go of your neck to slap your titty. “Use your voice, babydoll! I asked you a question!”
His hand goes back to your throat and you scream out “Yes!” before he tightens his hand around it again.
You hear Sehun from under you, “Only sluts can handle two dicks in her this good!”
“Yes!! You both feel so good!! I want you both to cum in me! Let me feel you both cum!!” You don't know what's gotten into you but that wasn’t part of the plan. Caught up in the moment I guess?
Nonetheless, you feel Chanyeol’s grip around your neck falter and he does one last, hard thrust into you before his body tenses and he groans loudly into your neck. He came first. Sehun goes a little bit longer, adding to Chanyeol’s pleasure with the friction, before his hips start jutting sporadically inside of you finally cumming as well with a loud moan, turning his head to the side, eyes shut tight and mouth wide open.
For a moment you three just lay there, completely fucked out and exhausted. Chanyeol pulls out and you let out a moan from feeling your pussy relaxed after being so stretched. He helps you off of Sehun and onto wobbly legs. You make your way to the camera and bend over in front of it, ready to sign off.
“Lovers, how was that?” You ask, still panting. “Was it worth every penny? I sure hope so. I love being your guys’ little slut.” You smile before biting your bottom lip and winking at the camera. “Thank you so much for tuning in, until next time.” You kiss your hand and blow it to the camera, then reaching over to your computer, you end the live.
After the live ended, you see your stats for the video and you’re completely shocked to see that you had 1 million viewers tonight!
“How would you guys like to make a couple more videos with me?” You ask turning around to see that they’ve both taken their masks off. They both looks so good right now, ecstasy still written all over their face.
They look at each other, still breathless, and then back to you, both smiling.
After tonight, you know your guys’ friendship will never be the same. But you’re kind of okay with that, because they really know how to make you feel good and fuck you out!
#exo#exo smut#exo chanyeol#exo sehun#Park Chanyeol#park chanyeol smut#oh sehun#oh sehun smut#kpop#kpop smut#smut#fanfic#exo-sc#exo-sc smut
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
freedom of the press 06 | t. jefferson
title: freedom of the press 06
pairing: thomas jefferson x reader
words: 15k
warnings: implied sex, suggestive jokes & teasing, thomas has astoundingly shitty timing, lafayette is a huge fucking cockblock, hella fanservice, v v v tender quality time, and then some more implied sex
desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?
tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!
By the time Y/N woke up, the sun was hardly up, the streets were plowed, and the bed was warm. She didn't try to leave it, instead curling further into Thomas's warm embrace when he pulled her close. Huddled alongside him, his skin against hers, she didn't bother to fight the fatigue that still ebbed at her mind, instead letting herself drift peacefully in and out of consciousness. She could feel Thomas's quiet laugh rumble in his chest when she made no move to get up. She didn't process it enough to react when his lips brushed against the crown of her head.
By the next time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky over Washington D.C., the streets were still plowed, but the bed was cold.
She frowned as she pushed herself to sit up, leaning back on a hand as she rubbed her bleary eyes. He'd left without saying a word.
She knew as she peeled the covers off herself, still damp in places with sweat from the previous night, that she shouldn't have expected him to stay.
Why would he have? He was a busy person; it was already... Shit, how had it already reached 2 PM?
She slouched into the bathroom, feeling like a wreck as she wiped the smeared mascara from her face, tied up her wreckage of sleep hair. She couldn't bring herself to take off his undershirt she'd donned the previous night, too cold to sleep in nothing but too exhausted to find some real clothing. (He'd laughed at her for it, but all the same, he didn't give much resistance before offering up his shirt.)
Regardless, they'd done nothing more than sleep together. He had no commitment to hang around any longer. If she were him, she probably wouldn't have stayed either. Still, it would've been nice for him to have said goodbye.
She tried to blink the sleep from her vision as she padded to her kitchen on bare feet; she would force herself to eat something before getting dressed and having to go down to another shift at the diner that evening.
Dry cereal might not have been the pinnacle of health for her just then, but it was easy, and she was in no mood to fight her cravings. When she pulled down a bowl, though, a flash of purple in the corner of her vision gave her pause.
She closed the cabinet absentmindedly as she turned, eyeing the post-it note dubiously from a distance, glancing around her apartment to confirm she was alone. (There hadn't been much question about the matter, but she couldn't be too careful.)
It was a moment later still when she approached it, stifling a yawn, and plucked it from where it'd been stuck onto the countertop.
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep,
And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
Y/N raised an exasperated eyebrow at the scrawled note despite the smile she fought back. The handwriting wasn't hard to recognize; not after she'd run her fingers over matching pen marks through a few hundred pages of Byron poetry -- not to mention the fact that there had only been two people in her apartment all night, and she certainly didn't remember writing that.
She shook her head lightly as she went to recycle it, but that time, it was the writing on the back of the paper that made her freeze.
For the next time you need some ancient literature, or for the next time you lock me out in the cold.
(202) 863-4828
Perhaps it wasn't such a gloomy afternoon after all.
------
Unknown Number: [Attachment: 1 image]
Unknown Number: nerd
Thomas grinned down at his phone where it was tucked halfway into his pocket. He'd been in meetings since noon, but after the night he'd had, he was struggling to focus on fundraising numbers and campaign strategy, most of it going in one ear and out the other as he waited restlessly for his phone to buzz. He'd begun to think by then that she wasn't going to reach out.
thomas 🙄: kinda harsh to say that abt someone who's been dead for 200 years
Y/N 🍑👀: ah yes because i was definitely referring to byron
Y/N 🍑👀: not the person who carries around purple sticky notes just to paste byron quotes in people's kitchens
thomas 🙄: you insulting my stationery?
Y/N 🍑👀: just your taste in literary quotes
thomas 🙄: don't be mad just cause i'm right
thomas 🙄: it didn't even wake you up when i left in the morning
thomas 🙄: at that rate you were gonna spend a lot more than a third of your life asleep
Y/N 🍑👀: wouldn't have still been asleep if you hadn't had me up past 4 am
thomas 🙄: is that really a complaint, now?
Y/N 🍑👀: uh??? yes, it is????? i have to deep clean my sheets and my mattress now smh
thomas 🙄: as though it wasn't worth it ;)
Y/N 🍑👀: wasn't worth the cost of the five gallons of bleach i'm gonna need to get the smell out
thomas 🙄: don't even pretend
thomas 🙄: you didn't seem to have any problem last night when i started ruining your sheets
thomas 🙄: you really gonna act like you don't want me to ruin them again?
Y/N could almost hear his voice in the messages, could picture his self-satisfied smile, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she read and re-read the text.
Y/N 🍑👀: you're paying my laundry bill
thomas 🙄: worth it to me
Y/N 🍑👀: or maybe we'll just have to ruin your sheets next time
Thomas inhaled sharply; his eyebrows shot up. Next time. He wouldn't have thought that just two words could turn him on quite that much.
"Thomas?" His head snapped up, his eyes wide; he'd somehow managed to forget entirely where he was in the few minutes since Y/N had texted him. Thankfully, it was only James who seemed to have noticed.
"Hmm?" He blinked, staring up at James's expectant stare. His gaze flickered across the conference room, and while James was clearly on the border of annoyance, everyone else looked to him curiously. "'M sorry, James, I spaced out for a second thinking about... your proposal for the fundraiser?"
That was the last thing he remembered hearing, and James didn't look impressed. "Right," he said dryly. "Anyway, I was asking how you felt about doing another town hall in D.C."
"Yeah, alright." He nodded, hardly processing the words, and James cocked a brow.
"Really?" He folded his arms. "I'm surprised you're giving in that easily. Last I remembered, you wanted to move your next few town halls up further north."
Thomas shrugged. His palms were sweating as all eyes turned to him for an answer after he'd spent the past ten minutes thinking about something very different from his supporters. "You make a good case for it."
(The fact that he hadn't caught a minute of the advocacy was irrelevant.)
James hadn't bought a word of it, and Thomas could tell from a single glance at him. He made a mental note not to pick someone who could see right through him as a running mate next time.
However, he fabricated a smile, much to Thomas's relief, having no desire to confront him right there or then. "I'm glad. I had a couple venues scouted out, but I'm open to any more suggestions."
"I think we need a new type of place. The same locations again and again get monotonous." Thomas struggled to resist rolling his eyes; he had to remind himself he'd only hired Charles Lee because he was donating more than twice his salary to the campaign.
"So what do you suggest?" He met his eyes skeptically from the other end of the table.
"What about a café?"
"A café?" Another of his campaign staffers who he couldn't identify by name spoke up -- Noah? Nate? Nathaniel? Thomas couldn't help but agree with his incredulity.
"It would be good for you to actually get to know your voters instead of... preaching to them from on high." As Lee continued, his voice close to a sneer, Thomas had to force himself to control his expression. "It would be much more personal for you to finally sit down and meet them."
"I'm runnin' a campaign, not speed-datin' the voters." Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw James purse his lips to repress a laugh.
"It's actually an excellent idea." Really, now? He glanced disbelievingly at the woman to his left. "The most common criticism you receive is about thinking yourself above your voting base. It'd be a good chance to lose some of your aristocratic reputation."
Hurtful, but not inaccurate. Thomas nodded, though he knew the skepticism was still clear in his gaze.
"If we do go through with this, where in the city do you propose we hold it?" James didn't seem to appreciate his fundraising proposal being derailed into a meet-and-greet, and by Charles Lee of all people. Thomas was right there with him, his annoyance only compounding when Lee shrugged unhelpfully.
"It's the Jefferson campaign, not the Lee campaign." Charles did make a good point with that. Thomas only wished he'd have thought of it before he decided to wedge his opinion into James's plan like a Republican jigsaw puzzle.
The question gave him pause, however. Were he to be perfectly honest, he didn't know more than five restaurants in the city by name, four of which wouldn't exactly earn him any points as a 'man of the people.' The last, however...
It was probably a poor idea; he'd known that even before he considered it. But it did seem to fit what they were looking for. It was in a low-income neighborhood, run by a family of immigrants. It had a bright atmosphere and an abundance of seating. However, the most tempting part to him wasn't how it'd look to the voters, but being able to see one person's expression when she learned he'd rented the place out for an entire evening.
It might've been a poor idea, but he had to put his campaign first, and the benefits were more than defensible.
He grinned. "Think I got a place in mind."
------
Y/N spent the next few days overthinking the fact that Thomas had left her last text on read. God, why'd she have to go and put the idea of a 'next time' out there? She was sure he didn't want commitment any more than she did, so she must have scared him off.
She hated how tumultuous the past Friday night had left her emotions.
Thankfully, when she arrived at work the following Monday, it didn't take too long for the distractions to come pouring in.
"Y/N!" Her head snapped upwards, her eyes wide as she saw Ashley marching into her office. She wore a smile, but her eyes were narrowed, and Y/N couldn't help the sense of dread building in her stomach.
"Ashley." Her response was wary.
"So your article got a decent bit of attention last Thursday." The words were nice enough, but they were altogether devoid of energy.
"... Thanks?"
"No, that's definitely a good thing; take the compliment." As Ashley circled around to take a seat on the edge of Y/N's desk, however, she tensed in her office chair, trying not to noticeably grip the armrests. "But a lot of it was controversial attention."
"How?" she asked, taken aback. Her brow was furrowed; it was likely the most unbiased article she'd written about the election.
"A lot of our readers seem to think you're siding with the Jefferson campaign toward the end of it." So this was why Ashley had entered looking so skeptical, and Y/N was sure her disbelief was written plainly across her face.
"Seriously? Because I mentioned that they're turning away funding from super PACs, you mean?" Ashley nodded, and Y/N let out a huff of incredulous laughter.
"You don't need to hold back on your critiques, alright? You can go after whatever information you uncover." She either didn't notice the annoyance growing in Y/N's eyes, or she didn't seem to care. "Don't be afraid to use what you uncover."
"And if what I uncover is entirely unrelated to the election?"
"Nothing is unrelated to the election, Y/N. That's exactly what you don't get." Something akin to excitement flashed in Ashley's gaze as she leaned forward toward Y/N, but the hint of vindictiveness gave her pause. "For you, the people are readers, not voters. You're not the one in an election."
Though she shifted further away in her rolling chair, Y/N said, "I'll keep it in mind, but for the time being, it's all been pretty mundane. Haven't found any skeletons in his closet."
"Then make some."
A beat passed; Y/N could only stare up at her boss in disbelief. "Excuse me?"
She rolled her eyes when Y/N didn't seem to be on the same page, which only elicited more worry. "You, as a writer, have grown to national visibility. You have the power to sensationalize things if you want to keep people hanging onto your every word."
"I'll keep it in mind, thanks." Ashley narrowed her eyes further at the bite behind Y/N's words.
"I'm serious. If you want to go further as a reporter, you can't just state facts. You need a narrative. There's a reason no one watches C-SPAN."
"Pretty sure I can spin a narrative on the election without stooping to the level of a gossip column." With Y/N's hard stare, Ashley seemed to realize she wasn't getting any further with the conversation, and after eyeing Y/N for another moment, she sighed heavily.
"You'd better show me a good narrative." Y/N had begun to tune her out as she pushed herself off of her desk, instead turning back to the article she'd been drafting. "I trust your judgment as a writer, so I'll let you take this however you want it. But people want to know who they're reading about."
"I have a feeling everyone knows who Thomas Jefferson is by now," Y/N responded dryly.
"I mean know him, know him." That elicited a raised eyebrow. "He's a person, not just a candidate. That's what America wants to see."
Y/N couldn't help the strange sense of pride that curled in her chest, tried instead to suppress it alongside the inexplicably conceited mantra Ashley's words elicited: she knew Thomas Jefferson in a way America never would.
When Ashley raised her eyebrows, Y/N realized she'd let the silence stretch on a moment too long. She swallowed her thoughts. "So you want me to air his dirty laundry?"
Y/N's eyes widened at the grin that broke through Ashley's unimpressed demeanor.
"Finally, she gets it." With that, Ashley turned to go, ignoring how dumbfounded she'd left Y/N. She glanced back with a well-pleased smile.
"If you need dirt, never be afraid to dig up whatever it is he's left buried."
-----
Unfortunately for Y/N, the distraction that was her boss's scarily cutthroat mentality only weaved itself into her racing thoughts about her most recent encounter with everyone's favorite Republican frontrunner. The next few evenings at the diner were slow, which she couldn't necessarily complain about -- being rushed and nagged by half of downtown D.C. over the course of a week wasn't quite her paradise. However, it only gave her time to spiral under the weight of everything she'd learned.
To her conflicted relief, coming in earlier in the afternoon on Wednesday provided a welcome diversion. It would've been her afternoon to herself after leaving her office at the Post, but when one of their baristas called in sick, the money for an extra two hours was too tempting for Y/N to turn down.
Despite her early shift, it wasn't until around 7:30 that her evening hit a bump in the road.
"Prosciutto roll for Belle?" she called out as she reached the end of the counter, putting the tray with the finished order and the receipt on the end of the counter. She pulled a paper cup out of the stack by the divider for the drink that was ordered. She was about to dash back to the kitchen after checking over the food, when--
"Excuse me."
She was sick of overly-familiar voices interrupting her workday. She froze on the balls of her feet where she'd begun to retreat, before turning with forced positivity permeating her demeanor. Couldn't her two jobs stay separate, at least most of the time?
"James! Hey. Congrats on the Super Tuesday win." His surprised smile put her at ease as she reached where he stood.
"Oh... Y/N. Thank you," he said, tone hesitant, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "I didn't know you worked here." She only shrugged.
"I just started two weeks ago. Not surprised you haven't noticed me around."
"No, I don't mean..." She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off, before he chucked to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is my first time coming here. You being an employee just... explains a few things, is all."
"Glad to provide some clarity... ?" With any context, his insinuation would've been painfully obvious; however, completely ignorant of the previous Saturday's meeting, Y/N was absolutely oblivious. She pursed her lips.
"You have my gratitude for it." James's knowing smile explained nothing for her, however.
"Right." She glanced at the growing line over at the cash register, anxious to keep the flow of customers going smoothly as the place filled up. "Anyway, what can I do for you? If you're here for dinner, line starts that way."
She nodded to the other end of the counter, but he shook his head.
"I'm not looking for food, actually."
Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm starting to think you're in the wrong place."
"No, no..." He plucked a takeout menu from the stand toward the end of the counter and nodded, eyeing the diner's logo. "I'm where I'm supposed to be."
"You're sure?" Her skepticism was still blatant.
"I'm sure." He glanced up from the menu with a smile. "May I speak to your manager, just briefly?"
That was when she paled. Eyeing his nonchalant expression, she prayed none of her assumptions about his motives could possibly be true, especially as they grew stranger and stranger. Her new spiraling was beginning to tie back to her previous spiraling -- could James have found out about the past Friday? Would Thomas have possibly told him? Why would that mean he showed up at her family's diner to talk to her manager about it? Could he have been trying to--
"Why do you look so nervous?" Her alarm only seemed to amuse James, and she huffed, leaning against the counter.
"James. You're a politician who showed up at my place of work, rejected food, and requested to speak to my manager." She looked up at him with a flat gaze, and he only chuckled, shrugging in acquiescence. "There isn't some new health code no one told us about, is there?"
"Not this time. Check back in a week, though." She rolled her eyes. "In all seriousness, may I speak to whoever's in charge? I assure you I'm not here to shut down your café."
Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "How generous of you. Give me a second."
He nodded as she turned away, laughing when she took only three steps before aggressively yelling "Orlando!" in the direction of the kitchen.
The man in question emerged with his brow furrowed, wiping his hands on a dishtowel with his brows furrowed. "What's wrong, mija?"
"Nothing yet." She glanced between him and James, her stare inquisitive. "Someone wants to speak to you about the diner real quick."
"You get us into trouble again?" Orlando raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N couldn't help her wry smile as she rolled her eyes, batting at his arm.
"No, Orlando," she huffed.
Her contrived annoyance hardly buried her amusement before James decided to pipe up. "'Again'?"
She turned to James with a playful glare, and he grinned. "You stay outta this." She pointed a reprimanding finger at him, but he didn't appear at all fazed. "Gonna get me fired before you have a chance to shut us down, at this rate."
"You got us shut down?" Orlando gasped, but when Y/N saw the mirth behind his playful shock, she groaned.
"No, Orlando." James's and Orlando's grins mirrored one another as she looked between them, exhaustion settling into her tone. "I need you two to take each other off my hands, now. I have drinks to make."
"Of course, Y/N." James wasn't too hurt by the final glare she sent him before turning away.
As she fell back into her rhythm fulfilling orders, Y/N couldn't help but keep an eye on the two men, especially not when Orlando emerged from behind the counter to talk to James, trying to stay out of her way but also moving just out of her earshot. She knew the glances she kept sneaking toward them weren't as subtle as they should've been; she knew Orlando could see her watching them. As James continued on, Orlando's entire demeanor went from skeptical to welcoming, his body language opening up in turn. (Y/N tried briefly to read their lips, but something gave her the feeling that 'sent out the minors' wasn't quite true to their conversation.)
She had to force herself to turn her focus back to the customers as the unfinished drink orders began to pile up, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the mounting line of cups to her right with names and orders, but with a distinct lack of coffee. A few more minutes passed as she struggled to keep up, finally holding pace with the ever-growing demand when Orlando shook James's hand, passed off a business card before the two parted ways.
At the risk of making just a few customers lose their heads, Y/N followed Orlando into the kitchen, her curiosity overriding her work ethic.
"Hey, what was that about?" She caught him just as he was tying his apron back on. How pleased he looked had her skeptical.
"Oh, nothing very big. Don't worry." He withdrew his plastic gloves from the front pocket, pulling them on with a shrug. "He asked me about renting out the diner for a night for an event with Thomas Jefferson's campaign."
That stopped Y/N cold. "He did?"
"Mhm." He nodded, and he didn't seem to notice how stunned Y/N had suddenly begun to look. "I told him yes. I didn't think Mira would be thrilled if I turned it down. He offered us a lot of money for it."
"Oh, did he now?" She let out a shaky exhale, glancing back at the front of the diner to see James just exiting through the glass doors. "And did he say why he wanted to do it here, of all places?"
Orlando shrugged. "I didn't ask."
Why wouldn't that be your first question? Despite her moderate angst, Y/N tried not to let her frustration show. "Is Mira around? I need to talk to her."
"Aren't you in the middle of a shift?" He gave her a pointed look, and it elicited a dramatic, drawn-out groan from Y/N.
"Orlando," she whined, folding her arms. He gave her a mocking pout.
"Y/N." She rolled her eyes. "You're losing us valuable customers and valuable time as the line gets longer. Go back to making drinks."
Despite her scowl, she nodded. "After I close tonight, you're gonna get a piece of my mind."
------
As it turned out, it wasn't Orlando who was given a piece of her mind that evening.
2 New Messages, 10:38 PM
Thomas raised an eyebrow as his phone vibrated. He sat at his own dining room table, the sound coming from just inches to the left of where he was working on his laptop. Who would be contacting him that late?
Y/N 🍑👀: tell me it wasn't you who came up with the idea of renting out mira and orlando's diner on the only night when i work all evening
Y/N 🍑👀: please for your sake blame james
He grinned. The draft reports of the campaign's funding allocation he'd been typing up could wait just a few minutes.
thomas 🙄: i feel like you're just tryna get me to lie so you can slander me in the papers for it
Y/N 🍑👀: thomas i stg
Y/N 🍑👀: are you just planning your campaign around what's gonna annoy me most????
thomas 🙄: that's a heavy accusation, i would never
thomas 🙄: just wanna make sure you don't get too lonely without me
Y/N's scowl held no real anger as she read the texts.
Y/N 🍑👀: oh of course
Y/N 🍑👀: if this is your way of trying to get laid again, it's a flawed strategy
thomas 🙄: what happened to ruining my sheets "next time"? :)
Y/N 🍑👀: you still owe me for all the bleach i had to buy
thomas 🙄: don't avoid the question
Y/N 🍑👀: don't avoid the cleaning bill
thomas 🙄: if you're still tryna ruin MY sheets next time, it won't be your problem
Y/N 🍑👀 is typing...
Thomas rolled his eyes when the typing bubble disappeared and he didn't receive another text. Y/N, on the other hand, was biting her lip, her fingers hesitant on her keyboard as she read his text to herself. Her heart rate was picking up as flashes of the past Friday played in her mind.
thomas 🙄: did you really just stop typing on me??
Y/N 🍑👀: can we return to my actual question???? why the fuck did you decide to rent out the diner for your campaign?????
thomas 🙄: wasn't my idea to hold a meet and greet at a restaurant
Y/N 🍑👀: there are literally hundreds of restaurants in dc tho
thomas 🙄: and??
Y/N 🍑👀: and you just happened to rent out the diner i work at during the entirety of my shift???
thomas 🙄: pretty sure i mentioned a while back that i was gonna learn your schedule
Y/N 🍑👀: i'm not sure how good it's gonna look for your campaign when i file a restraining order against you
thomas 🙄: you mean you don't miss me? :(
Y/N 🍑👀: oh c'mon you're just asking for it now
Y/N 🍑👀: you almost make it too easy to mock you
thomas 🙄: i'm so hurt
Y/N 🍑👀: already?? i haven't even started mocking you yet
thomas 🙄: we'll see who's mocking who when you're stuck with my campaign for five hours this friday
Y/N 🍑👀: five hours??????
thomas 🙄: don't get too excited now
Y/N 🍑👀: fuck you
thomas 🙄: only after you get around to changing your sheets
✔ Read, 11:03 PM
------
Try as she might, Y/N failed to find a way out of her evening shift the following Saturday. She pleaded with her co-workers (no one else was available); she faked sick (Jac marched up to her apartment just to call her out); she was about ready to find a fake ID and leave the country when a better idea occurred to her.
Mailto: [email protected]
Hi Mr. Adams--
(No, too informal.)
Vice President Adams:
(.... Passable.)
I hope this email finds you well. This is Y/N L/N of the Washington Post, to whom you gave your email address a number of weeks ago at President Washington's gala.
(She prayed she was using 'whom' correctly.)
As you know, I've been assigned to cover the Jefferson campaign up until this November's election, and I'm reaching out for any timely information you would be willing to share on the current relationship between Secretary Jefferson and yourself, as the projected Democratic nominee. I was hoping to find out--
(What was she hoping to find out? Her mind was still attached to Ashley's most recent ominous wisdom -- don't be afraid to dig up what he's left buried. But how could she ask the vice president for dirt without erring on the wrong side of collusion?
Backspace just a little.)
I was hoping to give my readers a somewhat more personal perspective on Jefferson's time holding office as Secretary of State. Is there any chance you'd be available for an interview? Please let me know; I look forward to hearing from you.
Regards,
(Was regards too stiff? Backspace.)
Best regards,
Y/N L/N
She'd been hesitant to actually use the email address he'd given her; she bit her lip as she pressed send. She might not have been able to find a way out of five hours of the diner being full of nothing but Jefferson supporters, but if Ashley was looking for dirt, eavesdropping and an opposing perspective could go far for her. Despite her writing prospects, she spent the entirety of her Saturday dreading its end.
James was the first to show up. The diner was cleared of its usual patrons, but that night, it'd be operating at capacity.
"So should I assume your presence means this whole 'meet-and-greet' wasn't an elaborate hoax just to deepen my frown lines?" Y/N was looking up at him with somber resignation as he entered the diner wearing a wide smile.
"Your input and documentation are valuable to this campaign, Y/N. We would never target you like that." She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the counter, despite how amused James appeared. "In other words, you have a long evening ahead of you."
"Y'know, I'm firmly convinced you're just trying to make my life Hell until I stop covering the election," she accused him, and he laughed.
"Have a little faith. I wasn't even made aware that you work here."
"Yeah, you weren't."
"What are you implying, exactly?"
"Take a shot in the dark." She glared at him, but it had no real anger in it. "Now, I'm not sure why Thomas is so fixated on antagonizing me, but you'd better tell him--"
"James, hey, you ready to get set up?" It was at that moment the front door of the diner flew open, and it was only a moment of silence that passed before Thomas looked up from whatever he was so absorbed in on his phone, and when he caught sight of Y/N's exasperated expression, a grin split his face. "Y/N? You workin' here, now?"
"Don't even start."
"Aw, c'mon, what d'you possibly mean by that?" His hands were stuffed in his pockets; he wore a shit-eating grin, and Y/N just scowled.
"I have too many hours left in my shift to deal with you two this early." She pointed an accusing finger between the two of them as she threw down her dishrag. "I'm getting Mira and Orlando."
"Some hospitality," Thomas pouted as Y/N began to turn, pausing to give him the stink eye, and he failed to mask his entertainment under his feigned offense.
From there, the evening went about as well as she could've hoped. Mira, as expected, was beyond overjoyed to see Thomas, didn't waste even a moment in helping him set up, and when the floodgates opened at 4:30 PM sharp, Y/N's feet were sore even thinking about scurrying back and forth for five hours on the tile floor she'd already spent her morning polishing. (So much for that polish, anyway. It was less than five minutes before layer after layer of bootprints wracked the shining ceramic with an avante-garde collage of brackish slush and sidewalk gunk.)
Demands were ringing in her ears. She struggled to distinguish between her rather lifelike migraine and the surrounding frenzy of voters and journalists alike -- the voices all sounded the same. A disembodied shout requested an extra tub of honey butter, and she tossed one onto the end of the counter without thinking twice. Two dozen hamburgers over the next thirty minutes seemed a small price to pay to no longer be working the cash register.
She'd begun to count how many viruses could fit on the surface of each dollar she collected in tips with a strained smile, retreating back to the kitchen to wash her hands every time she stuck one into the pocket of her apron. Considering the crowd, she considered herself lucky she was making tips at all.
The money was an undeniable result of the wandering eyes of a number of middle-aged men in the crowd, being to various degrees of seedy -- her skinny jeans seemed to be a hit. Though he wasn't one among the crowd stuffing wadded bills into her hand with a sleazy grin every time she came around to bus tables, there was one man whose wandering gaze she kept meeting. (He'd rather have provided a much different type of gratuity, and she suspected that went beyond subsidizing her trip to the laundromat to wash her bedsheets.)
She had to put it out of her mind every time she caught and subsequently broke his stare. The wolfish smile he watched her with had her feeling more vulnerable than she'd have liked; every time she noticed it, she couldn't help but pale and duck away like a mouse dodging a trap (no matter how tempting the bait might've been). Not to mention it was distracting her from her job. She shook the thought from where it weighed down on her shoulders, instead scurrying back to the register to deal with the line.
"Alright, what can I get you?" The words were breathless as she rushed to the counter, having just made seven lattes in the span of approximately five minutes and ferried forty kilograms of dirty dishes back to the kitchen -- she wasn't looking forward to washing them at the end of the night. Her tired eyes snapped open when she realized who stood before her. "Lafayette! How long have you been here?"
"Standing in line, or in ze restaurant?" His smile was just on the right side of jeering, and she rolled her eyes.
"I didn't take that long to get here; I don't wanna hear it."
"Of course not, chérie." He eyed the menu posted above her as he spoke. "I arrived 'ere nearly two hours ago, but I 'ave only just now come to get food."
"Been avoiding me?" she teased.
"Can you blame me?" Her scowl was all but involuntary at how self-satisfied he looked, choosing to avoid her annoyed gaze. "Any recommendations from ze menu?"
"Whatever's most expensive." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she shrugged, holding her hands up defensively. "What? Like you can't afford the New England stuffed lobster?"
He pursed his lips as he looked back down at her, but his eyes were all smug amusement. "Fine. I will 'ave zat and ze agave lemonade."
"My paycheck appreciates it," she said. "That all?"
"Zat will be all for me." The devious smile he wore as he leaned in a fraction of an inch had her on edge. "But with 'ow he 'as been ogling you all night, I daresay Thomas may want something more."
"Lafayette!" she scolded him, stepping back from the counter to glare. "Why has that become the first thing you bring up every time you see me, now? I am at work."
Her seething was in a hushed tone, and he only shrugged, leafing through his wallet with a smug smile. "Remind him of zat, not me."
____________
It was nearing eight o'clock, and Y/N refused to remind herself that she still had more than an hour and a half to go. She'd deigned to wash the dishes by that point, actively avoiding the crowds in the dining room between Thomas's wolfish gaze and Lafayette's knowing smile -- she wasn't sure when her family diner had become a lion's den.
The yellow latex gloves she'd been forced to sport were an occupational hazard, she supposed, as she reached up to return her latest stack of side plates to their rightful place in the cabinet above her. When she turned back to the sink--
"Thomas!" She jumped back, holding the edge of the counter behind her. She hadn't heard him come in.
He raised an entertained eyebrow as she pulled off her thick rubber gloves, throwing them down onto the counter with a thud before reaching over to turn off the water. "What are you doing back here?" she huffed, "You can't be here."
He shrugged, and she could feel her heart rate rising along with the blood to her cheeks. Him cornering her, alone in the kitchen at her part-time job after all the texts they'd exchanged over the past week, had her feeling increasingly vulnerable.
He plastered on a mock pout, folding his arms as he leaned against the side of the counter. "Oh, nice to see you, too, Y/N. I'm great, thanks so much for askin'."
Y/N scowled. "Don't pretend I'm the one out of line, here."
"You aren't happy to see me?" His brow creased as he held a hand to his heart, and though she rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitched upward. "You're hurtin' my feelings. Figured it'd be a welcome surprise."
"Oh, of course, based on how thrilled I was to hear you rented the place out for the night?"
He grinned. "Exactly."
She huffed at his audacity, shaking her head.
"Anyway, what d'you want?" she asked as she moved to go back to where she'd been at the sink, shooing him away. However, entirely undeterred, he took a step toward her, and she took one back, nearing the corner of the room. Her eyes were wide.
"Thomas," she said hesitantly, and he took another nonchalant step toward her, slowly backing her against the kitchen wall. Her voice was shaky, her heart pounding in her ears like a warning bell. "What are you doing?"
"Well, sweetheart," he began matter-of-factly, his gaze hawklike. Her breathing stopped for a moment as he closed in on her, one hand landing on the wall beside her head and the other on her waist. His grin broadened. "I seem to remember being promised a 'next time.'"
At that, she couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh, the sound breathy. "Seriously? And you think now is a good time to cash that in? I'm working."
"So am I." He shrugged. "Makes it more fun, doesn't it?"
"No, it absolutely does not!" Her reprimanding was losing its bite, though; his smile was apparently more contagious than anything she was going to pick up from touching the used cutlery of his unsavory voters. He leaned in toward her with a mischievous eyebrow raised. "Thomas."
"Y/N," he echoed mockingly before he dipped down, lips finding the side of her cheekbone, trailing down toward her jaw.
"There's a window in here," she reminded him, despite tilting her head to give him access to her neck. "We're in plain sight."
"Not from this corner." She could feel his grin against the side of her face. "Really think I didn't think this through, sugar?"
She let out a skeptical hum when his mouth reached her collarbone, running her hands up his chest, arching up against him despite herself. "This is a bad ide-- Ah!" She squeaked when he nipped at her skin, and his grip on her hip tightened.
"Whatever you say," he murmured into her neck.
"We're going to get caught." She let out a soft gasp as his hand on her hip traveled south.
"By who? Mira?" He pulled back to look her in the eye, a playful shine to his gaze. "She gonna fire you for stealing the attention of her favorite customer?"
Y/N rolled her eyes, pursing her lips to push back the grin that threatened to break hef stony facade. "No, she's gonna fire me for whatever health code violation this constitutes." She shoved him lightly by the shoulder, but it only prompted him to anchor her to him by the waist.
"I won't tell." The hand that rested against the wall threaded itself into her hair, tipping her head back to look her in the eye. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for any sort of reaction in the affirmative. She bit her lip.
"My kitchen shift ends in less than half an hour." His expression visibly deflated, and she gave a small, sly smile. "So you'd better be quick."
Delighted surprised flashed in his eyes; she squealed when he hitched one of her legs up to his waist, tightening her hold on his shoulders. "Well, I can't turn down a challenge, now, can I?"
With that, he reached over and flicked the sink's faucet back on, the water drumming loudly on the underside of a saucepan. She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing?"
"Drownin' you out."
His lips returned to her neck with increased fervor, and he tugged aside the collar of her shirt, biting softly into her skin. "Fuck you," she moaned, and he laughed.
"Right here, in plain sight?"
She was about to rebuke him, eyes narrowed and mouth ajar, before he began sucking a hickey into the skin of her shoulder, and he felt her whole body relax in his grasp as she let out a groan. "You're unbelievable."
"I do my best." Her eyes began to flutter shut as she lost sight of her initial task, the small tsunami of dishes becoming hardly a wave in the distance. His hands trailed further downward, and she could feel her chest heaving as she dug her nails into the thick material of his suit. She bit down on her lip, trying to remain quiet, desperate not to draw any attention, when the door opposite them flew open.
Y/N squealed, shoving Thomas away from her, but the damage was done when she met the intruder's eye.
"Lafayette?" she asked breathlessly, "What are you doing back here?"
"So it is only a problem when I come into ze kitchen?" He gave Thomas a pointed look, who glanced to Y/N guiltily. She yanked her shirt back over the reddening mark halfway across her shoulder with a huff. "I was only coming to ask where ze bathroom was, but I fear ze two of you may need it more zan I do."
"Out. Both of you." Y/N glared at Lafayette, who looked spectacularly amused by the scene he'd walked in on. Thomas, however, looked nearly as put-out as Y/N. She walked over to pull her rubber gloves back on, turned the water off in the sink. "I need to get back to work."
"It seems you should do ze same," Lafayette commented to Thomas, who straightened his tie, scowling.
"Thanks for the reminder." He brushed past Lafayette on his way to the door before he turned to leave, casting Y/N one more burning gaze that left her palms sweating.
Y/N turned back to the sink and grabbed the next dish from the stack, expecting Lafayette to follow Thomas out, but he only raised his eyebrows, joining her near the sink as she picked up a sponge and returned to scrubbing a spot of yellowish crud from the edge of a plate, grimacing when she realized it was crusted over.
"So," he started, and she looked up at him warily, not abandoning her task. "I take it my hunch as to where you disappeared to at ze fundraiser last week was not misguided?"
She closed her eyes to take a deep breath, pausing for a moment, thoroughly displeased with the hubristic smile he wore. She didn't give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. "What d'you want, Lafayette?"
She glanced in his direction as he pulled his lips into a dramatic pout. "Is my company not good enough for you to 'ave here? You hurt me, chérie."
"Right. No agenda there," she said dryly, and he shrugged, unable to contain his self-satisfaction.
"So, 'ow long have you and Thomas been carrying on in secret?"
After the momentary pause the bluntness of his question gave her, she rolled her eyes. He came around to the drying rack on her other side, apparently ignoring her peeved sarcasm. "We aren't."
"Non? Then what, exactly, did I just walk in on?"
"Give it your wildest guess." As she turned to add a plate to the stack, she watched Lafayette hoist himself up onto the counter to her left. He gave her a sly look.
"Why did you not tell me about your little liaison? It is not like it was difficult to figure out."
"'Liaison'," she snorted. "Is there anything you don't know how to make sound pretentious?"
"Do not avoid the matter at hand."
She could feel her cheeks beginning to heat as she turned the faucet back on, and it wasn't just the steam coming from the scalding water. "It's not like that, Lafayette. Seriously."
"'Ow far 'ave you two gone?"
"Lafayette!" She turned with that to glare at him, his nonchalance about her embarrassment only compounding upon it.
"What? Do you really not want someone to confide in?" She paused at his words, though her scowl didn't relax, and he took that as an invitation to continue. "I can only assume you 'ave not been 'aving zis conversation with Alexander. I can picture quite clearly how 'e would react."
She let out a huff of bitter laughter as she returned to the dishes. "Can't argue with that one. He thinks the hickey I came back from Detroit with was from you."
"Non!" His eyes shone with mischief, despite his contrived incredulity. "I am your cover story?"
"It's his theory; I didn't even give him the idea." She added another plate to her pile. "Though, a lot of my friends seem to think you're a whore, now."
"Mm, and why should I not go and tell them ze reality of ze situation?"
"Don't you dare!" she said. "What do you stand to gain from that?"
"Protecting my reputation, apparently," he said mildly. "Or, you could simply tell me what 'as been going on."
"Are you blackmailing me for gossip?"
"Think of it as an exchange."
She scoffed, turning her head to look at him. "You really are shameless, huh?" He shrugged, folding his arms as he turned to look at her expectantly, his knee bumping her pile of silverware. She sighed. "Fine. We screwed. You happy?"
"Delighted." He wore a small smile as he shifted her dishes out of his way. "'Ow many times? Only once? When was zis?"
"Lafayette!"
"What?" he asked innocently, but the exhaustion written across her face made him laugh. "Come on, Y/N; we are friends, non?"
"Seems like I'm stuck with you, so sure."
"Zen why do you not feel like you can speak freely with me?"
When she met his eyes that time, the words seemed to be in earnest, not even mocking in the slightest. He wore a small smile, and he broke her gaze after a moment, eyeing the layout of the kitchen.
"Alright. If it'll get you off my back." She sighed, shooting him a dirty look, and he nodded, pursing his lips to suppress the grin that was bursting at the seams. "It was a week before Friday. Only once. And, to be honest, I have no idea where to go from here."
"Thomas seems to have some idea where he wants to go." When she gave him a dead stare, he laughed. "I am not making fun of you, zis time. Truly."
"This time," she repeated bitterly. "I'm just... not entirely sure what I want. The whole thing feels risky."
"It certainly is risky if you are trying to get lucky in public during his campaign event." He gave her a scandalized look, but her scowl was unwavering.
"Thanks for the advice."
Her sarcasm left him undeterred. He shrugged. "But if you are careful, what is ze harm? I assure you, even the papers zat care enough to cover Thomas's sex life do not 'ave the resources to find out who is ending up in his bed."
She hesitated a moment, considering his words.
"No, you're probably right." She sighed. "The thing is... I don't know. It feels like it could become a problem."
"Ah, is there... something more you want out of zis?" The sidelong look he gave her was more concerned than she expected it to be. She shook her head, giving a light laugh.
"No, no, nothing like that." He'd begun moving the dishes to his other side by then to maintain his spot on the counter. Y/N rolled her eyes when she noticed. "My career just complicates things, is all."
Before he could respond, she took a step back from the counter, peeling off her rubber gloves despite the looming load of dishwashing she'd still have to do before the end of the night. "And as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to get back to making sandwiches. Head back out to the dining room."
She jerked her chin toward the door while retying the strings on the back of her apron. Lafayette frowned.
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Not trying to. Kicking you out." She gave him a flat stare as she turned toward where she stood. "Some of us have bills to pay. C'mon."
He scowled as he hopped off of the counter and she waved him away, following close behind to herd him out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her when she did, though, and his gaze looked once again as smug as it had when he first realized what he'd walked in on. "If you insist, chérie. I understand that you must do away with me before you can carry on with your little affair. Do not let me get in ze way."
Y/N rolled her eyes at how pleased he looked with himself as he strolled back into the seating area, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. However, when she returned to the kitchen counter, she couldn't help but scan the room through the front window; who she was looking for went without saying. She found him already looking at her, and she swallowed hard.
Nothing articulable was conveyed in his heavy stare, nor in the barely-there smile he wore, arms folded as he watched her shamelessly. She bit her lip. The three seconds she held his gaze felt like hours, and when he finally winked and broke eye contact to turn to someone who'd just approached his table, she felt her stomach turn. This wasn't over.
------
Thomas's rally ended at nine, but it wasn't until closer to nine-thirty that he'd persuaded the final member of his constituency to call it a night. Mira, Orlando, Jac, and all their miscellaneous employees had gone home when their shifts ended at the official end of the event, but Y/N was stuck on the clock for another hour or longer until she finished cleaning up the mess left behind from the evening. Unfortunately, his event running over time meant that he didn't start clearing out his campaign setup until around five minutes after the diner was empty, and that his posters, decorations, and gaudily-colored buttons weren't actually gone until closer to nine fifty.
Y/N was clearing the kitchen counters all the while, knowing she couldn't begin to mop up the grayish mess of liquified dirt and matted grass scattered across the floor until they were both gone. When they seemed to be on the last load of red streamers and campaign merchandise, she emerged back toward the front counter to lock up behind them. Thomas was still out in the back when James approached her, his final box of t-shirts resting on his hip.
"Is there anything else you need from us before we leave? I don't want to take up too much more of your time."
Y/N smiled at the concerned look he wore. "Depends; have you paid Mira in full for all our troubles?" Despite her exhaustion, her tone was light, and the tension in James's brow relaxed.
"I gave her the check before she left."
"Then you're good to go." She shrugged as she went to collect another basin of dirty dishes from under the side of the counter; her annoyance at it couldn't even rise, not after the mountain of plates she already had waiting for her next to the sink. "I've got everything else under control."
He nodded. "Thank you for letting us rent out the venue. All our attendees seemed more than happy with it."
"If it was up to me, you wouldn't be here, but I'll take the credit if you're offering it." She raised a playful eyebrow, and he wore a tired smile.
"The credit's all yours."
"My gratitude is beyond words." Though the words were mocking, he let out a light laugh, and she couldn't help her wry grin.
"I'm always glad to hear it." He took another glance around the place, checking for anything that might've been left behind, before turning toward the back exit Thomas had just re-emerged from.
"What else do we still have to box up?"
James paused on his way out. "You're welcome to do a final sweep, but I believe we have everything."
"Yeah?"
"I'm fairly certain." He looked back toward where Y/N stood behind the counter once more, leaning down on the bakery case. "Goodnight, Y/N."
"Bye, James." Her sleepy voice has a singsong lilt to it that made Thomas smile as he searched the dining room a final time. She'd started toward the kitchen once more to retrieve her broom, but Thomas's voice stopped her.
"Anything else I can do before I head out?"
She turned on her heel to face him, wore a soft smile when she saw how earnest he looked, eyebrows raised and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. "So long as you’ve gotten everything you brought here, there’s nothing I need from you."
"You sure?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged casually. "Just hate to leave this place a mess from our campaign event. Don't wanna leave you with all the extra cleanup."
She pursed her lips when her smile threatened to broaden. "That's sweet, Thomas, but really, it's okay. I'm on the clock for a while longer anyway. I think I can stick it out, considering I'm the one employed here."
"Feel like I remember hearin' somewhere that your shift ends at ten." He furrowed his brow, walking toward the counter where she stood. She didn't quite get his point until she turned to the clock above the doorway: it was nine fifty-eight. "'S there really nothin' I can do to help out?"
She snorted, folded her arms. "Not unless mopping the dried coffee off of the floors is your idea of a good time." When his expectant expression was unwavering, her eyebrows shot up. "You're not seriously offering your services as a janitor, are you?"
The corners of his lips quirked. "Only if it's welcome, sweetheart."
"You're wearing a full suit." The disbelief in her eyes was rigid despite his conviction.
"Don't mind. Long as I can throw my jacket somewhere." He cracked a grin. "Unless, of course, you just wanna get rid of me."
She eyed him skeptically, but he didn't seem to be joking just then. "If you're serious, I'm not turning down free labor."
"Or an excuse to spend more time with me?" His tone was playful, and she couldn't help her spiteful laugh as she re-entered the kitchen.
"So that's your ulterior motive? Hope you don't think you're getting any when it's eleven o'clock and I'm half asleep from my seven hours here tonight."
"As, c'mon now, why's there gotta be an accusation?" he called after her, and she could hear the teasing frown in his voice. "Can't I just wanna lend a hand?"
"I'll believe it when I see it." She emerged not a minute later with a broom and dustpan to see him having shaken off his jacket and undone his tie. She quirked a brow.
"Hey, anywhere I can throw these?" His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms as he slid his tie out of his collar, popping open the first few buttons on his dress shirt, and Y/N bit her lip. The suits he wore didn't quite do justice to his physique; his jackets may have fit tighter around his upper arms, but his shirts were practically molded around his biceps just above where the veins bulging in his forearms disappeared into his sleeves. She was sure the few extra inches of visible skin below his collar were meant to draw her wandering eyes, only hinting at the toned chest she knew lay beneath the starched fabric.
When she looked back up and caught his eye, he looked predictably cocky. He wore a wide, smug grin, and she rolled her eyes before he even spoke. "You're starin', sweetheart."
Y/N shrugged, wearing the smallest of smiles. "Nothing I haven't seen before."
"Anything you wanna see again?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and she laughed.
"Tempting," she said, and when surprise flashed in his eyes, his interest piqued as he started toward her. However, she stopped him at arm's length, a hand on his chest. "But you know what would be really sexy?"
His delight in the turn of events was obvious. "What's that?"
She leaned her broom against the counter and took a step forward, pushing herself onto her toes until her lips brushed against the skin just below his ear, and his hands ghosted down to her hips. Her voice was just above a whisper. "Watching you disinfect all the dining room's high-touch surfaces."
She pulled back with a broad grin when he let out a disappointed groan. "Seriously?"
His frustration was obvious, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, deadpan, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah. Free labor really gets me going."
"Tease," he grumbled, and Y/N gave him a skeptical stare.
"Don't you gimme that; I'm not the one here under false pretenses," she reminded him, and he folded his arms.
"Now I dunno what you could be refferin' to." She raised a dubious eyebrow when a grin split his phony discontent. "But there's nothin' wrong with mixin' business and pleasure."
"Don't you dare try to derail me after taking up six hours of my time, Jefferson." She prodded his chest with a scowl. "If you're sticking around, I'm putting you to work."
"Wouldn't have it any other way." When he did grab the broom, he glanced back toward the kitchen, wearing an inquisitive frown. "I'm gonna go stick my jacket in a cupboard; is that alright? I'll only be a minute."
"Oh, yeah; do you want me to take it? We have a coat closet in the back."
"Nah, 's alright. I can find it."
Though she gave him a skeptical once-over, Y/N nodded. "Have at it."
When he wasn't back a few minutes later, her train of thoughts managed to run a full 5k -- what could he possibly be spending that much time in the back for? Was he really still trying to find a coat hanger, by then? How hard was it to find a closet in exactly two rooms? Or, really, was he just hiding out until she'd already gotten the worst of the grime off of the tile?
She eliminated her final guess when early-2000s pop music began blaring through the diner's sound system. Though she groaned loudly enough for him to hear it from where he'd located the aux input, she couldn't say this was really a downgrade from Orlando's dusk-till-dawn smooth jazz. When he emerged from behind the kitchen's swinging door and caught sight of her dead stare, he laughed.
"Hanging up your jacket, huh?" Her annoyance was contrived; the way the corners of her lips twitched up gave her away.
"Hey, I can multitask." He bit his smile back, giving her a serious look, brow furrowed. "I said I'm here to help, didn't I?"
"How is this possibly helping?"
"'Cause you need to liven up a little bit," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Cleanin's only boring if you make it boring."
"You'll be singing a different tune when you start wiping down the bathroom."
"Hey, how'd I end up on bathroom duty?" he pouted, and she shrugged, turning to the shelves at the back to hide her growing smile.
"As the only one of us who actually works here, I've elected myself the de-facto CEO." She hung her dishrag up on the rack next to the sink before looking back at him over her shoulder, shrugging. "Hate to break it to you, but you're on my turf."
"But I'm a volunteer!" he protested, and she grinned.
"My point exactly."
"Now, what if I refuse to do it?" Though she was busy restocking all the cups that she'd finished washing earlier in the day, she could hear Thomas's footsteps approaching where she stood behind the counter.
"Then you don't, and you finally leave so that I can be productive."
"Sounds like I'm really the one with the power, here."
"Not when I have something I know you want." She looked up with a suggestive smile when he hoisted himself onto the counter beside her, and he raised his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest.
"And now what's that?"
"Three guesses, Thomas." She had a feeling he'd only need one of them when his gaze began to wander down the length of her body, eyes shining.
"I dunno how unpaid this labor is, sweetheart."
"Well, you won't quite be making minimum wage," she said, turning back to face him as she leaned against the counter opposite where he sat. "But I think the employment benefits will make it worth your time."
"That so?" He pushed himself off the counter's edge, hardly having to take a step forward before his arms landed on either side of her on the counter's edge, caging her in, and she inhaled sharply. His grin was wide; his hips pressed into hers as he leaned in, and she swallowed roughly, leaning back on her hands which rested on the linoleum countertop.
"I'd like to think so," she breathed, as he dipped down, wasting no time as his lips met the tender skin below her jaw.
"Mm, I think I'm gonna need to decide that one for myself," he murmured against her neck, and despite how tempting it was when his hands gravitated to her waist, falling slowly further as he bit down softly on her earlobe, she pushed him away the minute she found her last shred of willpower.
"Uh-uh." Thomas scowled as he pulled back, hands planted on the counter at her sides. She folded her arms. "I'm not gonna make even more of a mess of this place that I'll have to clean up. When the diner's shining, I'd be happy to revisit."
One of his hands rose to her jawline, lifting her chin up ever so slightly to look him in the eye, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "After the place is spotless," he murmured, his voice hard and his gaze fixed on her lips, "Hope you know how much you're gonna regret leadin' me on like this. You won't be tryin' it again."
Despite her effort to remain unaffected, Y/N's breath caught, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she struggled to fight the heat rising in her cheeks. Her eyes were wider than she knew, and he seemed to be reveling in her reaction, wearing a wolfish grin.
After a moment, she swallowed, took a deep breath, her voice shaky. "Last I checked, I'm still at work."
"And I wouldn't dream of hinderin' your career." Thomas winked as he took a step back, going for the broom where she'd discarded it before, acting as though nothing at all had happened. Y/N was left reeling.
Thus began the next ninety minutes of her life. Though, to Y/N's surprise, Thomas did end up cleaning the bathrooms, putting up little resistance, he'd also managed to convince Y/N to help him. Despite there having been two of them, every subsequent task took twice as long as it otherwise would've. She'd have denied it, but Thomas's presence was a more-than-welcome distraction.
About half an hour later, he'd managed to drag her away from her Lysol bleach and her old rags in favor of taking a break to dance with him (apparently, she was underappreciating the wonder that was Outkast's greatest hit). She rolled her eyes at the suggestion but grudgingly obliged, and Thomas couldn't help but call out the small, growing smile that broke her grumpy facade. He'd seemingly done the impossible by getting her to let herself go for an evening. Neither of them was quite sure how the floor had gradually become spotless between their distracted banter, nor when exactly they'd managed to wipe down every surface in the kitchen as his playlist seamlessly ventured through every one of Britney Spears's wildest phases.
She'd just about forgotten about her fatigue as Thomas repeatedly soaked the ankles of her jeans with his mop, claiming that her being in his line of sight was just too much of a distraction for him to do his job properly. She scoffed every time, but the fact that her cheeks had grown sore from smiling made her annoyance marginally less convincing.
He eventually took off his shiny black oxfords after having spent the evening trying to hide his concern over some of the chemicals in her soaps ruining the varnish; she didn't bother to argue with his insistence that it absolutely marked a milestone in their progress that he wasn't afraid to step in any greenish gunk or black mold -- if they hadn't missed any, what was the harm? However, she did reprimand him for ransacking their fridge when she left for three minutes to put the mop away. She didn't stay mad long.
Wiping down the glass of the bakery display case took too long for her liking. As it turned out, it was difficult to focus after teasing him for the expected mediocrity of the John Mayer impression he claimed to be impeccable, as he immediately decided it needed to be proven. However, she didn't regret provoking him when the result had her sides beginning to hurt from laughing. She was just glad that they'd nearly finished cleaning.
Much to his dismay, Thomas had to cut the music after the sweet old lady who lived above the dry-cleaners next door came down, banging on the back door to chew them out. The fire behind her threats to file a noise complaint with the cops died down pretty quickly when Thomas offered her a beignet and a cup of tea, sending her on her way with a winning smile, a to-go box, and a Jefferson campaign button. (Y/N proceeded almost immediately to scold him for just giving away the fruits of her hours of labor behind a deep-fryer.)
But as the music was revoked, their animated evening of slacking off began to wind down. The only thing left for them to do was to finish the dishes, and Thomas proved to be much more helpful with this than Lafayette had been earlier in the day.
All was quiet as he washed the dishes and she proceeded to dry them, silence split only by his sporadically humming the best of the Black Eyed Peas. It was comfortable, just being together as the warm air wafted from the cooling oven not too far behind, as their hands brushed every time he passed her another plate. Her lips were pursed in a feeble effort to hide how endeared she was every time she glanced to him, his sleeves soaked past the elbow while he remained unbothered. If he noticed, he didn't mention. Finally--
"How are you so good with people?"
"Hm?" He turned his head toward her with a raised eyebrow, and she had to ignore the flecks of foamed soap that clung to his curls and his shirt. Y/N shrugged.
"I just mean..." Her smile was shy; she didn't meet his eyes. "I don't get how you do it. Mira absolutely dotes on you; you've befriended half of our staff after one night here. You just talked to my crankiest neighbor for literally all of five minutes, and suddenly, she's part of your voting bloc."
He just watched her for a moment. His stare was soft. "Can't help it if people find me irresistible."
Her loud, disbelieving scoff made him grin, but she looked far from annoyed. "That's your secret? You were just born with it? It isn't Maybelline?"
Though he laughed quietly, when she turned to him with her eyebrows raised, he shrugged. Her question seemed to be in earnest. "I dunno, sweetheart. Don't think it's anything special. People seem just as drawn to you, anyway."
"Sure, 'cause I have a nice ass, and I'm wearing tight jeans. Not the same thing." How frankly she spoke made him grin, and he shot her a wink, passing off another bowl to her.
"Can't argue with that." She rolled her eyes as she began drying the next dish. He bumped his elbow lightly against hers, gaze teasing yet soft. "But you know that's not what I meant."
She sighed. "Alright, fine, but I'm not forty-points-ahead-in-the-polls charismatic. I just... can't figure out what it is about you that people seem so drawn to."
As she concluded moments later, the uninvited smile she wore when he flashed her a warm grin could've contributed to the reason. She turned back to the plates before her, feeling her skin warm under his heavy gaze. "So you're tellin' me people don't follow me strictly 'cause of my political framework and field experience?"
"Oh, I'm sure every one of your supporters has invested hours into reading the 174-page pdf of fiscal policy your campaign published." Another stack of cups went into the cupboard below her.
"People really don't care about how taxin' it was for me to write all that? And here I was, thinkin' every American voter was out there doin' their homework." He looked with disappointment down at the salad plate he was scrubbing at present, but Y/N wasn't buying it.
"Thomas," she groaned as she turned to meet his phony pout, her stare flat. Her mild annoyance only served to amuse him further, and though she scowled when he laughed, he leaned over to gently kiss the crown of her head. She could feel herself flush despite how chaste it was; the casual affection left her more thrown than if he'd tried to rail her in the middle of the kitchen.
"'M only kiddin'," he defended, voice heavy with mirth, making her roll her eyes.
"Aren't you always?" she asked, wiping off the inside of a cup.
"'Course not." He frowned, and she deadpanned as she turned to him, arms folded.
"I'm not sure we've had a serious conversation since I met you."
"Now, that's just not true."
"Isn't it?" He put down the saucepan he was rinsing out to turn to her, matching her demeanor.
"It isn't. I know I tease, but I've never been anythin' but one-hundred percent authentic with you, Y/N."
A moment passed where neither said anything. The corners of Y/N's lips quirked at how sincere he sounded as he waited for her to react. Finally, she turned back to the dishes before her with a tight-lipped smile.
"Maybe this is what it is."
"Hm?"
"Why people like you. This whole endearingly earnest act you've got going on. I could see that being pretty appealing to voters."
"Hey, what d'you mean act?" He bumped his shoulders into hers, offense written across his face, and she laughed.
"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Traipsing around from state to state like some type of charismatic golden boy. Making everyone feel all special and appreciated. It's a good tactic; don't get me wrong." She shrugged as she shelved the last stack of bowls. Just a few more things to wash, and they could officially consider the diner spotless. She didn't think much of her own words, but he hung onto them. It was inexplicable as to why he took so much pride in her all but admitting he made her feel special.
"My bein' all kind-hearted and charmin' isn't some scheme," he said after a moment, plastering on a scowl, and she raised an eyebrow as he passed her a fork. For a brief moment, she was worried she'd crossed a line, but when his eyes met hers, his gaze was playful. "'M just a nice person. Maybe you should try it sometime."
Her mouth fell open in surprise, indignant but hardly disguising her smile, and she let out a huff. "I was joking, you asshole!" When he only snickered, she pursed her lips, shoving him away from her with the little comparative strength she had.
"Hey, now!" His reprimanding had very little bite to it with the laugh carried in his voice as he stumbled a step to his right, tugging the faucet head along with him. He scowled at Y/N's self-pleased smile, flicking his wrist to turn the spray of water from the sink onto her.
She yelped, jumped back from it, but he'd already managed to drench the front of her shirt. She wore an expression of disbelief as she paused a moment, watching him return to the dishes as if nothing had happened despite his entertained grin. It was then that she struck back, lunging toward the sink to retaliate, and he wasn't quite quick enough to stop her.
He could only do damage control once she'd already managed to spray a line of water across his chest, and she gasped when he pushed her back to her part of the counter.
"You're more trouble than I was expectin'," he laughed, and she folded her arms.
"You're no walk in the park yourself."
"But you're the one who decided to let me stick around, sweetheart," he retorted, giving her a pointed look, and she shrugged good-naturedly.
"You might be a handful, but you're worth having around once in a while."
He laughed at how matter-of-factly she spoke, and for once, she wore an unabashed grin. "Now you're just flatterin' me," he teased.
"Oh, of course, such high praise; you aren't always awful."
"Hey, that means somethin', comin' from you," he defended, prodding her in the side, and she squealed, jumping away.
"Hands off, Jefferson. I'm at work."
"Aw, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to disrespect your professional boundaries."
"Check yourself next time," Y/N scowled, but there was no heat to it. The pair caught one another's eyes, both wearing the same, gentle smile, and it seemed too soon when he broke her gaze, returning to the last couple pieces of silverware. She watched him another moment until he turned to pass her a ladle. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her gaze hadn't strayed.
She only turned back to the counter when she took the ladle from him, drying it off and sliding it back into its place in the drawer. All was quiet, and though they could both feel the chilled air of the spring night drifting in through the poorly-sealed back door, where they stood, it felt perfectly warm.
He glanced at her. "'S nice to see you like this."
The comment was offhanded; he didn't wait for a response, only returned to washing the spoons, but Y/N furrowed her brow.
"Like what?"
He turned back to her with a raised brow, mildly surprised at the curious frown she wore, and he shrugged, still wearing his faint smile. "I dunno." She didn't fill the silence, and he continued, "With your guard down. Always feels like you've got some kinda walls up."
She swallowed; for a split second, her gaze was absent. Ultimately, she sighed. "I guess I'm just cautious," she said quietly, and Thomas frowned at the defensive lilt that had returned to her tone.
"I get it." He reached over to finally turn off the water, and she put away the final fork he handed her. "'S not always worth lettin' people in."
His smile was tiny, barely there, but understanding, and when she met his eyes, it felt like he was seeing right through her. "It just makes it too easy to get hurt."
He nodded, eyes kind. "'M glad I make you feel like you can relax."
She hardly shrugged as he turned to her, leaning on his hand on the countertop. "Yeah." A small smile graced her lips as she eyed his expression, and she bit her lip. "I guess there are worse things, huh?"
His laugh made her nervous gaze soften. "Aw, sugar, you're too kind," he said, the mocking sarcasm in his voice balanced out by how gentle his grin was. She rolled her eyes.
"Whatever," she said softly, and he plastered on a mock pout. "I'm not building up your ego any more, alright? I'm not sure it has any room to grow."
"I wouldn't mind you makin' me just a little bit more conceited, now."
She finally turned all the way to him, putting down the dishcloth she'd been using for drying, and despite herself, the affection in the way he was looking back down at her made her heart flutter. "If you're looking for blind adoration, you should've figured out by now that I'm not the girl for that."
"No, you really aren't, are you?" Though her words had been pointed, had come with the intention to knock him back down a peg, his low voice was far, far from contemptuous. Her eyebrows jumped when he took a step toward her, taking her chin in his hand to lift her face to his before bending down to meet her where she stood, his confident lips gentle against hers. "You're so much more than that," he murmured, not pulling away enough to even look her in the eye, their noses brushing together.
Though she hesitated, it was a moment later that Y/N took a step forward to meet him halfway, her tentative touch rising up the stiff material of his shirt and to the back of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She pushed herself up onto her toes, and their lips met once again.
The patience in his every move was new to her, inconsistent with the raw desire that usually governed his actions. When he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, her mouth parted in a soft moan, and he took the opportunity for what it was, wasting little time in pressing his tongue teasingly against hers. He was holding her close, but she was arched fully up against him regardless of it, wanting to feel the movement of his body against hers. Both her arms looped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.
The kiss was deep, intimate, but not harsh, and when his mouth moved to the skin of her neck, she tipped her head back, eyes closed with her silent sigh as his hands moved down to grip the backs of her thighs. She couldn't help her surprise at how effortless it was for him to pick her up, to lift her onto the counter she'd been standing in front of. She groaned when his lips found a particularly sensitive patch of skin, all but going limp in his grasp.
"Thomas," she whined, wrapping her legs more tightly around him to anchor his hips against hers, grinding against his hard body.
"Come home with me," he muttered into her neck, and though she gasped at the feeling of his teeth scraping against her, she pulled back to look him in the eye, raising his head to hers with a hand in his curls.
"What?" she whispered, chest heaving, and he pressed another soft, chaste kiss to her lips.
"Come home with me," he repeated, looking into her wide eyes.
"Why?" He raised his eyebrows at her hesitance, and she took a deep breath. "Thomas, I live upstairs; if you wanna stay, I... I definitely wouldn't mind that, but--"
She cut herself off at his skeptical hum, and he said, "Listen, I almost got caught tryin' to sneak outta here in the morning last Saturday, and I'm not tryna have a repeat of that, alright? Just come back to my place." One of his hands lifted from her thigh to weave itself into her hair, holding her head by her nape as he kissed her, more intently that time. "Promise I'll make it worth your while."
She swallowed. "Pull your car around the back."
---------
It was hours later that Y/N found herself lying exhausted on satin sheets, slumped in a penthouse just across the river and high above the city. Thomas hadn't been lying about making the most of her time; his hands had seldom left her skin from the moment she entered his passenger seat, dragging her quickly past the doorman on the first floor of his building, pinning her against the wall of the elevator for a heated, fleeting moment before he'd finally tugged her the rest of the way to his apartment.
She was wrapped in his covers up to her chest, feeling just on the wrong end of self-conscious, but her clothes were rumpled and sprawled across every corner of the rooms they had to pass to reach his bed. They hadn't been overly concerned with where the outfit ended up, just that it wasn't on her skin. Every joint in her body was already sore, and she groaned as she tried to sit up, leaning against his headboard as Thomas returned to her with a glass of water.
"Thanks," she said, and he couldn't help but grin at how hoarse she sounded as he handed her the cup.
"'Course, sweetheart." He came to sit beside her as he pressed a kiss to her temple, and she took a long sip of the water, nearly draining all of it in one gulp. "You alright? Everything still feeling okay?"
"I'm exhausted, and my ass hurts like a bitch," she griped, but when he raised an eyebrow, she nodded. "But I'm all good. Might have to bill you for the truckload of concealer I'll need to cover up all these fucking marks, but I'm fine."
"Good." He squeezed her thigh lightly when she leaned against his side, her legs bent and knees pulled in toward her chest. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against himself with a small smile.
"Can't believe I didn't know you live in the same building as Lafayette, though," she mumbled, and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, he actually lives just across the hall. When he came back from France lookin' for a place to live, I thought it'd be fun if we were neighbors, and he took me up on it pretty easily."
She hummed her acknowledgment. "So that means, when Lafayette showed up half an hour late to your lunch date and I was there instead, that it would've taken you all of five seconds just to go home?"
He laughed. "Now, what exactly are you accusin' me of?"
"Being a pain in my ass two weeks ago," she grumbled, and he shrugged, wearing a small, self-contented smile and not bothering to argue with her.
"You didn't seem to mind me bein' a pain in your ass last night." He raised a smug eyebrow, and she scowled, turning her head to break the eye contact. She disregarded the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks.
"You say 'last night' as though we didn't get back here less than four hours ago."
"Don't pretend you don't get the picture."
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked when he kissed the top of her hair. She looked down at the cup she held against her chest. "Is it cool if I stay over?"
"'Course. I don't want you gettin' in an Uber with some creep in the middle of the city at this time of night."
"Mm, but you had no problem with me getting in a Bentley with some creep in the middle of the city four hours ago?"
Despite the teasing bite to her words, he grinned. "Hey, now, I'm just sayin' you gotta be selective about which creeps you're lettin' drive you around at all hours."
"I mean, you haven't killed me yet, so I'd call that a point in your favor." She yawned, reaching over to put the glass he'd given her on his bedside table. "We should get some sleep. It's late, and I'm sure you have somewhere to be tomorrow."
"Alright, sweetheart." She pushed herself forward from the headboard, laying back onto the pillow she'd been leaning on, holding it close to her head as he reached over to turn off the lamplight before joining her under the covers. "G'night."
"Night, T."
They fell asleep almost immediately in one another's arms.
------------
5:17 AM
From: [email protected]
Y/N--
I’m glad you reached out. Your writing’s excellent as always, but if there’s information you want, you’ve very much come to the right place. I’ve worked with Thomas for years, and though they left me dismayed, I’ve become quite familiar with the not-so-shining moments in his background.
I’d rather not put anything in writing should someone find this communication. Let’s find a somewhat private place to meet. Be sure to bring a recorder and a notepad. Believe me when I say you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.
John Adams
#hamilton#hamilton fanfic#hamilton x reader#hamilton x reader imagines#hamilton x reader imagine#hamilton oneshot#hamilton oneshots#hamilton scenarios#hamilton imagine#hamilton imagines#hamilton on disney+#thomas jefferson#thomas jefferson fanfic#thomas jefferson imagines#thomas jefferson fanfiction#thomas jefferson fic#thomas jefferson x reader#thomas jefferson x reader drabble#thomas jefferson x reader smut#thomas jefferson scenario#thomas jefferson scenarios#lafayette x reader#daveed diggs x reader#daveed x reader#hamilton smut#lafayette#lafayette imagines#daveed diggs imagines#lafayette x reader smut#freedom of the press
353 notes
·
View notes
Photo
ash & soot
Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)
on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight
chapter 8 - great expectations
SFW, but usual blood/gore warning. around 3.5K words.
He barely remembers getting dressed and returning to his quarters after such a relaxing shower. At some point he had slipped inside his pants and slid an undershirt on, thrown himself at the desk chair and poured over plans and schematics, a mess of paper and far more motor oil than necessary. He had written and read until his eyes had grown tired, like every other night, fighting off sleep to the best of his ability. He could sleep when he was dead, or when she was dead, when he was far away from this hellhole, when nothing awaited him come morning.
Some nights he would skip it altogether, keep his eyes wide open when his mind was too fraught with dreadful thoughts. He knew what would come if he finally closed his eyes, the memories that he worked so hard to put away. A dream, it was only a dream, he would tell himself over and over, but it was hard to believe it when he would wake up drenched in sweat and tears, throat sore from screaming at the top of his lungs, that all too familiar twinge of sadness and terror balling up in his chest. It was hard to believe and hard to forget, because he would see it when he held the wrench, when he brought a cup to his lips, when he pressed the buttons to get the conveyor belt running. His hands shook, his fingers lost their strength, and then we would remember it all. It was not real, but it had been once, and he is unsure whether the knowledge makes things better or worse.
Heisenberg remembers nothing but the familiar tingle on his fingertips, the numbness that overtook him, anxiety and fear washing over him like he had been engulfed in a sea of darkness. The scribbles on the paper would be evidence of how he had lost control the night before, how he had pressed the pencil hard to try and force himself to focus, to keep going. The cut on his forehead would tell him that he exhaustion had taken the reigns and he had fallen face first into the table, head hitting the metal clamp and inadvertently helping lull him to sleep.
Much to his surprise, that night, when Heisenberg closed his eyes, he was greeted with the blissful sight of nothing. Head void of dreams, of nightmares, body protesting with the awkward way he’d scattered over his work station, but nothing else. The cut had stained some papers with blood and drool had ruined some others; his arms felt numb in the morning, as they had been left hanging off the desk with his head and neck as the only support. It took him a good few stretches of his hands to feel his fingers again - all things considered, this had been a much better night than most.
If the night was almost-pleasant, the morning was anything but. A hot gust of air blew in when the factory kicked into gear with full force, like it did every day around this time, the whirring of blades and purring of engines his usual white noise. Only this time there was an intruder, a high pitched, repetitive sound that threatened to pierce his eardrums - he woke up to the incessant sound of his phone ringing. The thing sat just inside his office, an old landline that Miranda had insisted on him keeping in case she needed to speak to him urgently. She would call him every now and again, but more often than not it was his siblings that would bother him. Moreau would call to ask if he had found any old VHS tapes or old fiction books, Donna would ask him for blades and all manner of crazy-looking schematics built. Alcina rarely called, but given her interest in the bloodsucking beast that prowled the woods, he was certain that would change very soon.
Not that he intended to answer any of them, naturally. Nine times out of ten he was nowhere near the dumb phone to answer, which made Mother angry and him even angrier, because the last thing he wanted was to interrupt important research to tend to any of their petty, cruel whims. When she called, invariably he would be thrust into something barbarous and despicable; she wanted someone kidnapped, or killed, or turned into a monstrosity. She wanted him to spy or intimidate, put on his best scary mask and drill the fear of the Black God into someone’s mind. She never once asked if his research went well, if he was doing well, and though it had been years of such abuse, he could not help but feel the sting of it every time he heard her speak. Somewhere deep down, he still held onto a sliver of hope that she cared; and she would always dig deeper and deeper, until she found it and choked his feelings to death.
Heisenberg lazily lifted his head, right arm coming up to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth, eyes hurting under the bright industrial lights coming in through the window. A strand of hair had sneaked into his eye when he blinked, such a small nuisance upsetting him even further, a simple strand of hair that felt like the devil’s toothpick stabbing his eyeball. The phone had stopped for a few seconds only to resurge like the wailing of a baby, and the ringing prompted him to shoot up and off his armchair in a flash, too disoriented and uncomfortable to fully register what was going on. He almost fell on his way to the phone, tripping over his unbuttoned pants, annoyance levels rising with every step. He rubbed his eyes as he approached the offending object, flicked the room’s light on like it would help him hear better. At least it would keep him awake.
“Heisenberg,” came the voice from the other side, sweet and soft-spoken, domineering and stubborn. “Any news on our quarry?” Our quarry, he mouthed to himself mockingly. As if any of it was a team effort, as if he had anything to gain from this little adventure. Well, as it turns out, he did, but lady super-sized bitch didn’t need to know that. The damn hair was still stuck somewhere between his eyelashes. “A little bird told me you left the forest quite late last night.” A little bird would die a horrible, horrible death as soon as he discovered who it was that had agreed to his sister’s asinine plan of meddling in his business.
“Oh hey, sis. Surprised you get reception all the way up there.” He heard her huff of annoyance, chuckled in response. It bought him enough time to figure out exactly what he would tell her. Hey, yeah, turns out your monster is actually this gorgeous lady with a pair of tits big enough to rival any fertility goddess’? “Slippery little thing, that monster of yours. Found some bodies, some blood,” truth was always easier to tell than lies. “Caught a glimpse of something, too, but it disappeared in the middle of the trees before I could grab it. Little shit gave me the loop, took me quite a while to find the way back.” Heisenberg could practically hear her chest rising and falling as she breathed excitedly, happy to hear something, anything, even if it was a blatant lie. He could hear her nails hitting against wood impatiently, stringing together a tune he did not recognize. “What do you want with this thing anyway, needing a new pet?” Quite the funny thought, really. He was suddenly curious to know if the little witch would put up a fight as a tight collar was snapped around her neck.
“Am I right to assume you will return to the forest soon for another search?” Oh, most definitely, though his intentions were far different from what she expected. She continued without waiting for his answer, clearly aware that he would retort in the crassest manner possible. “I will see you handsomely rewarded once I have it in my possession, brother. House Dimitrescu does not forget such acts of service.” And there it was, brother, the greatest honor she would grant him, a compliment reserved for moments like these, when she desperately needed his help and no one else’s would do.
Blah, blah, blah. What was she going to offer him, a maiden? A scrawny lady with bruises big enough to make one believe her skin was purple, bones showing through her ribs and threatening to poke out at any moment? He had long decided against experimenting on women - they were always so weak and fragile, he would tell himself. Had long left behind his whoring days, too, far too focused on his research to let himself be distracted by a pair of tits. Oh, right; the irony. What else could she give him? A casket of wine made of blood of an innocent, with its thick bouquet of brutality and mercilessness?
She could offer him riches, influence, her undying loyalty. The only reward he wanted was to see her fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, nothing left of her and her daughters but the crystal cores they would dissolve into. The jewelry he would keep, the crystals he would sell to the Duke for a hefty price; the dust he would gather, send to an artist to mix into paint and commission a portrait of himself in his best work attire, his beat up trench coat and ragged hat. To make a statement, his fly would be open and his dick out in the painting, forever immortalizing him as the large, hard Lord of the Castle. With the money he would buy the best brewery he could find and have it make the worst beer, call it Lady D’s Fresh Piss, all in her honor, naturally.
He would bring over his suitcase and set up shop in the castle, tear down every reference to the Dimistrescu family and replace it with cheap replicas of innocent, idyllic landscapes, and dozens of horrible quality photos of his face. The extra large milk pail she called a hat would be used for entertainment when he gathered guests over, shoot the ball into the dead lady’s hat or take another shot. His soldats would clean house, kill every last monster in the basement, replace those god-awful torture tools with something else, anything else - maybe pigs, to pay homage to his dear sister. He would then fire all maids and forbid them from ever setting foot inside the place again, hire an all-male crew to tend to the estate and leave him well enough alone. On a clear day he would grab all of their expensive dresses, the paperwork that dignified her as gentry, her snob literature and photo albums, pile them all into the courtyard and burn it all, the vineyard alongside it, then light his cigar in the blaze and smoke it while facing the inferno, the flames reflecting beautifully on the lenses of his glasses. Once it had all turned to cinders he would strip before going through the front door, waltz around the place while rubbing his dick on all of her favorite spots. He would dump all of her fine wine in the biggest, smelliest cesspool, grab the revenue from the last shipment and throw it from atop the church in the village to watch the peasants fight each other for riches that were supposed to be hers.
Perhaps best of all, he would invite Alcina’s little monster over, encourage her to come in while dragging all the dirt and mud gathered on her bare feet. He would give her a tour of the castle, allow her to decorate every room with a harvest wreath or handmade candle, let her cover the posh couches with handmade quilted throws. Together they would roll up the fancy carpet and throw it in the fireplace, lay down the most unrefined of straw tapestries in its place. The mantle would be a display of their crudeness and peasantry, his schematics and forgotten bits of scrap metal, her incenses and rune-inscribed bones and whatever else her little heart desired. He would allow her to have her pick of his sister’s jewelry, try and convince her to take them all, to wear nothing but her favorite set as she danced under the skylight of the atelier, the flames of all tolling bells and the bright shine of the moon as the only source of light for their unholy, delicious rituals.
When silence settled he would grab her waist and pull her closer, whisper in her ear the most delectable of invitations. Together they would desecrate every last corner of the castle, from the halls to the belfry and the stairwells to the balconies, the cries of agony the place had come to be known for replaced by their sounds of pleasure. When they were far too tired to continue they would work together in the kitchen, he would help her prepare a bloodless meal that they would savor watching the wide open doors to the courtyard. He would sit at Alcina’s spot, ignore every single piece of flatware and eat with his bare hands, audibly chew on every morsel. He would draw every curtain and open every window, let the gelid gale wipe away any trace of her and her daughters. Late at night, he would carry his prized lady up the stairs to her quarters, gently place her on the giant bed and cover her with the decadent expensive sheets. She would ask him to stay, and he would, hold her close as she slumbered and he stared at the top of the canopy and let out a tired sigh almost a hundred years in the making. He would be free, and he would have claimed it all, a fitting end to his sordid tale.
If he wasn’t sure Alcina would rise from the grave and put herself back together out of sheer spite, the whole thing didn’t sound half bad.
Heisenberg barely registered whatever she said after, far too immersed in his little happy place to give a shit. She had talked for what seemed like hours, something about training the beast to present it to Mother Miranda, to allow her to experiment and find out what sort of things they could learn of such a splendorous mutation. Some illusions of grandeur sprinkled here and there, the very obvious wish to become the best, most adored child. He felt like Alcina wished Mother would descend upon her in a ray of light, to lift her up and away towards the heavens to take a place at her side. What a load of crap, though he had to admit it was far more than he would have given her credit for when she came up with this sordid little plan.
At some point, she finally realized she had said too much, exposed too much of her grand plan, had become too excited with the prospect of having that admiration within her reach. That, or she had grown tired of sounding too friendly with the riffraff. She quickly finished saying her piece and hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye, wishing him good luck on the hunt, reminding him she had great expectations. As did he.
He found his mind wandering back to his little witch in the woods as he placed the handle back on its hook. Where did she even come from, anyway? Was she born in that miserable place, brought up among the failed experiments of this village in middle of nowhere, Romania? Did she know how to use money, or were the lei they used foreign to her? He had it in good confidence that she could read, considering all the books he had seen around, but did she know how to write? Had she ever seen electricity at work, or had her life been lived under candlelight? Could she drive a car? Operate a telephone? Did she have toilet paper in her outhouse or did she wipe her ass with ferns or something of the sort? How did she find out about nail polish, of all things?
Had she ever lived outside that lousy shack? Did she ever get a taste of luxury, of fine wine, scrumptious desserts, someone to cook and feed her, maidens to attend to her? Had she always worked the land and tended to livestock, gathered herbs and berries in the forest? Had she cared for her parents or grandparents and learned her trade then, offered her services to lice-ridden villagers when they were no longer in the picture? Had they ever met, some day when he was too busy with his own sorrow to notice her, to take in the beauty that had come to haunt him so? Had she ever shared her body with someone, with a lucky lad or lass that caught her vulnerable and willing on a lonely night? Did she… Did she think of him, as much as he had begun to think of her?
Her shroud of blood and mystery, alongside Alcina’s excitement over the prospect of having her torn apart, had a strange feeling seep within his bones, a pang of anguish tugging at his heartstrings. All the more reason for him to hide the truth for as long as he could - even if the witch turned out to be just really clever with herbs and some hallucinogens, he wouldn’t give dear sister the pleasure of sinking those rusty nails into her flesh. Not when he had so much to discover.
Finally alone with his thoughts and away from his fantasies, he looked down at himself to see his shirt tousled, the fly on his pants undone. He had slept alright, although passed out might be a better description. In his defense, he had tried to fall asleep like a normal human being: sat down and let his mind go blank, eyes firmly shut to try and get some rest. But try as he might, he always startled as he was about to drift off, the sight of the dark horse dissolving into a puddle of blood right before his very eyes, of Sturm’s decapitated arms almost comically flying in his direction. Rage followed soon after - another failure, another waste of time. How would he make that thing rise again? He was then caught in the infinite loop of thinking, and planning, and burning out in frustration, until he could carry on no more.
Of course. He remembered it now, what had finally lulled him to sleep, in the throes of his despair. The way she had distracted him with a well-placed, gentle hand on his face, to work her magic and make his pain disappear, to preserve the secret she worked so hard to maintain. The gash on his hand that had left no trace, the lycans and moroaicas dead but not quite. The way she seemed to have a knack for putting things back together again, to prop them up on strings and have them dance like a puppeteer would. If he brought her here into his den, allowed her a glimpse of his work - would she be able to help him? Would she want to?
At first, he had thought the whole thing was bullshit. So maybe she knew a few plants, knew how to make a mean incense to get him high as a kite and seeing shit. Maybe she had some medical training and could put a nose back in its place, big deal. Maybe she held the world record on fastest, most painless stitching of human flesh, and was in cahoots with the Duke to use whatever seemingly magical substance he put in his antiseptic solution. Whatever she was smoking to say that she could actually heal things, that she might just be able to murder Mother Miranda - he wanted some.
And yet the more he thought of it, the less sense it all made. Her touch was unmistakable when she held his chin up, when the monster’s wispy tendrils had done the same. There was no doubt that she had, indeed, healed his wounds. The decapitated heads were very much alive, the blood pungent, the bite as painful as it should be. If she had killed them, how had she brought them back to life? How had she kept them alive on borrowed time, negated the effects the very creator of the Cadou could not avoid? How far did her powers go? Were they powers, like his and Moreau’s and Donna’s and Alcina’s, or a clever trick of the mind?
Whatever the case, Miranda had spent the better part of a century trying to bring back a dead girl in the body of another, necromancy a far too advanced concept for her young mind back in the late twenties. She had spent countless hours, spilled gallons upon gallons of innocent blood, spread a disease that they no longer had control over in the lycans, all for naught. And suddenly some creepy girl at the ass-end of the woods was the second coming of Jesus? She had knocked him on his ass and somehow morphed into this giant mass of blood that would make the hairiest of grunts shit their pants. If there was any chance that she was for real, then it would change everything. The possibilities were endless. He just needed to tell apart the bullshit from the truth.
#resident evil#resident evil village#karl heisenberg#karl heisenberg x oc#karl heisenberg x reader#virgil writes#a rather chill chapter but next comes soon
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kalim Al-Asim - A promise to Jamil 1&2
You can unlock this story by getting Kalim’s SR Lab Coat
Translation under the cut
Scarabia Dorm - Jamil’s room
/BAAAAM!!!
Jamil: What’s that? What’s that explosion sound!? It came from the kitchen.
Scarabia Dorm - Hallway
Kalim: I give up~~
Jamil: Kalim!! Are you unharmed? Did you hurt yourself?
Kalim: Oh, don’t worry Jamil, I’m fine! The spell to get some water out saved me especially. As soon as I put the water on myself, I escaped from the accident.
Jamil: I see... In any case, what happened? Can it be that the parents in the Asim household were trying to target the heir Kalim...?
Kalim: Tomorrow we have alchemy class, right? I totally forgot to do my homework. So I used the earthenware pots from the kitchen.
Jamil: So you failed at it, and destroyed Scarabia’s kitchen and canteen?
Kalim: My bad, my bad. I wanted to practice making a huge cracker by throwing bread, salt and blue cheese in a pot!! I thought it’d work out~
Jamil: Did you even read the textbook? Have you ever opened the practice manual and looked at the distribution charts?
Kalim: Of course! But don’t you think that naturally digged up ores are more beautiful than coals that have been changed into diamonds? That’s why I thought I wanted to make something interesting with alchemy that no one has ever made before!
Jamil: You shouldn’t lump artificially made diamonds and real diamonds together. Besides, what you are doing isn’t alchemy, but falls in the category of foolish cooking.
Kalim: Hahaha. Now that you say it! Don’t worry, I haven’t put gold in it!
Jamil: I’m getting irritated... Regrettably, being direct with him is useless. I should calm down... Whatever. I shall call a service man tomorrow and have him repair the charred kitchen. We should finish your assignment. I shall teach you.
Kalim: Thanks Jamil. Ah! But it’s better if we prioritize fixing the kitchen.
Jamil: Why is that?
Kalim: This evening I’m holding a banquet. I’ve invited a lot of 2nd years from the other dorms.
Jamil: Irritating... The refreshments...and the meals...just who is...going to make them?
Kalim: Who...you? And while you’re at it, you can make my part as well. Ah, since it’s a banquet you don’t have to be elaborate! Anything you make is tasty after all!
/BAM!!!
Kalim: Aah! Nothing happened, where did that explosion come from?
Jamil: You shouldn’t talk that much for someone who destroyed the kitchen. Besides, didn’t we have a banquet yesterday!!
Kalim: Yesterday was saturday and today is sunday. Those are the best days to party on.
Jamil: Aah~ My patience has reached its limit! I will definitely not cook. THE BANQUET IS CANCELLED!!
Kalim: Huh~~~!? The banquet is...cancelled!? Why!?
Jamil: What’s there to question! It’s only natural! Listen well Kalim, you will now go and apologize to everyone you invited.
Kalim: Really~~~~~~~!!
Mirror Chamber
Kalim: The promise I made with the invitees is important but the agreement I have with Jamil is even more important. I can’t do anything but apologize to all the invitees from the bottom of my heart. So the first person...
Heartslabyul Dorm
Riddle: The party is cancelled? ...But Kalim, did I not refuse your invite in the first place. You ran off without waiting for my reply. In any case, it is no problem for me.
Kalim: Sorry Riddle. I will definitely recompensate you. I’ll invite you to my next banquet! See ya!
Riddle: Good grief. He is exactly the same as on the day he invited me. He pays no attention to what anyone tells him.
Mostro Lounge
Floyd: What’s your order, sea otter? Hm, you’re not a customer? I’m a bit busy with the café now~
Azul: Is the party at Scarabia cancelled? The one we were invited to... It is a holiday, so us three cannot leave Mostro Lounge empty during a peak business period.
Jade: Kalim, the postponement of your party is extremely regrettable. I look forward to the next opportunity. Now, let me show you the exit.
Kalim: Azul, Floyd, Jade, sorry! I’ll invite you again!
Diasomnia Dorm
Kalim: Silver, sorry! Today’s party is cancelled. Forgive me!
Silver: Nodding off...nodding o....zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....
Kalim: I take that nodding your head means you forgive me! Thanks! Don’t look so disheartened.
Mirror Chamber
Kalim: Alright, I’m on a real “Cancelling the party” message tour. Next is the last invitee. Let’s go!
Savanaclaw Dorm
Ruggie: No way!! I’m definitely not forgiving you!
Kalim: Huh!!
Ruggie: You told us to “Cheer up with good food and fun dances!” right!?
Kalim: Y-Yeah...
Ruggie: I was really looking forward to today’s banquet! I skipped dinner yesterday and now I’m starving...
Kalim: Sorry Ruggie... but Jamil will not allow me to hold a banquet...
Ruggie: Then what’re you going to do about my belly changing gears? I even went out and bought tupperware~
Kalim: Ruggie... I can’t believe that you looked forward to Scarabia’s food and dances to that extent...
Ruggie: Ah, I don’t really care ‘bout the singing and dancing... But I ain’t forgiving you either way!
Kalim: I see... I got it! Riddle and the others must be just as dissapointed! Okay I’ll cancel the cancellation! I’ll host the best banquet on my own!!
Chapter 2
Savanaclaw Dorm
Kalim: Okay I’ll cancel the cancellation! I’ll host the best banquet on my own!!
Ruggie: As expected of you. Then I can fill my belly ‘til it’s bursting!
Scarabia Dorm
Kalim: First of all, I should make refreshments for the guests! Is what I want to say but... I forgot both our kitchen and ingredients are charred. Hey, Jamil! Wait, I can’t rely on Jamil today...
Ruggie: Then, why don’t we use the college’s canteen. I’ll request the license.
Kalim: I see. Thank you Ruggie. You’re a good guy!
Ruggie: Shshsh... In any case today’s meal will be a treat~ (TL note: can also be extravagant)
Kalim: Since we secured a place we should buy the ingredients next.
Mister S’s Mystery Shop
Sam: Welcome! No matter what you seek, we have it IN STOCK NOW! What are you searching now?
Kalim: We want to create a lof of famous stew of the Country of Hot Sands. We came to buy all the sheep and chicken you have!
Ruggie: Hey, Kalim. Shouldn’t you check your wallet first?
Kalim: Hm? Wallet?
Sam: That is no problem for the imp of the Country of Hot Sands! I can charge his household directly.
Ruggie: Really! As expected of a son of the world famous multimillionaire Asim family. Well then, we shouldn’t only get sheep and chicken, I also want top quality marbled beef~ Just kidd...
Kalim: That’s fine! The guests will enjoy it more if there are a variety of flavors.
Ruggie: You’re really OK? Then I want to use my favorite truffles as well~ I’m not going to eat them though...
Kalim: Sure!
Ruggie: Sure!?
Kalim: Don’t hold back! This is a banquet to please the guests.
Ruggie: Then I want to eat one of the three biggest delicacies of Twisted Wonderland, an icicle mushroom! But y’know, there’s no way you’ll get something that expensive huh?
Kalim: IT’S OKAY!
Ruggie: IT’S OKAY!? But icicle mushrooms are seldomly harvested, it’s a super rare ingredient. I don’t think our college store has it...
Sam: IN STOCK NOW!
Ruggie: YOU HAVE IT!?!?!?
Kalim: You’re so reliable Sam. I’ll take all of them!!
Sam: Alright! Thank you, imps!
Kitchen
The ingredients are complete. Let’s hurry up and cook! First we toss all the meat and the beans in the pot-
Ruggie: Don’t~~~!! Kalim, can it be that you’ve got no experience with cooking...?
Kalim: Nope! At home, we had kitchen staff and when I went to the dormitory Jamil cooked for me.
Ruggie: Sigh, because you’re such a spoiled child... Okay, I’ll cook. I’ll congratulate you for gatherin’ all these high quality ingredients though. Go take a nap will ya.
Kalim: I’ll refuse! Jamil got mad because of me. I’ll have to take responsibility. That’s right, you can cook right. Please. Teach me!
Ruggie: Ugh!! That’s so bothersome but he’s not gonna listen to anythin’ I say~ Okay. Let’s make some good meals lickety-split.
Kalim: Thank you, Ruggie! I’ll do my best.
Ruggie: Let’s first cut the meat and vegetables in giant pieces with a kitchen knife.
Kalim: Ah. I’m forbidden from touching any cutlery. He told me to stop because it’s dangerous.
Ruggie: Huh!! But you want to cook by yourself right? You can’t start if you haven’t cut the ingredients.
Kalim: But I promised to Jamil... Ah, what about using magic instead of knives to cook? Wouldn’t it be interesting to use magic to eat at the banquet instead of forks and knives? Let’s see if I can mince the meat with magic. Hah~~~!!
Ruggie: Aaaaah! Kalim, calm down. Don’t use magic ‘n all the food~~~!
Kalim: And the cooking is done! What a nice smell~
Ruggie: Cooking with magic was a bit too much but you managed to follow my instructions fair’ well... You’re obedient and motivated, that’s where you differ from Leona.
Kalim: I could make the best meals thanks to you. Then-
Ruggie: Let’s dig in~~~~~...
Kalim: Let’s go and tell the invitees, that I told that the banquet was cancelled, about the cancellation of the cancellation of the banquet!
Ruggie: Huh~~~~!! Now? All of them?
Stairway
Jamil: Where did that Kalim loiter now. This time he isn’t even picking up his phone... I suddenly lost my cool. I hope he doesn’t cause too much trouble...Mumble...mumble... What’s that? There’s a lot of noise coming from the canteen. I should inspect that commotion first.
Kitchen
Kalim: Everyone, are you enjoying the banquet? I’ll bring you dish after dish~!
Heartslabyul student: Ahaha. Good going, Kalim~ Cooking with magic, you sure think of strange things.
Savanaclaw student: We’ll also prohibit the use of forks and knives! Let’s use magic to bring the food to our mouth.
Cafetaria
Riddle: After all, I could not refuse and now I too am present and stuck in this mess. He might be overbearing but it doesn’t hide any malicious intentions and he really just goes crazy in the moment...
Floyd: Hey, Azul, why did we come? Not that I mind because the sea otter is pretty funny.
Azul: The waiters of this party have placed an order from us Mostro Lounge.
Jade: It seems that a super rare delicacy, namely the icicle mushroom will be served. No doubt that this will please the manufacturer.
Silver: This is good... especially the mushroom...
Ruggie: Shshsh! Thanks to you both my belly and tupperware are bulging!
Jamil: I told Kalim to cancel the party. But why are there so many people attending...?
Kalim: Hey, Jamil! You finally came. Try my food.
Jamil: Did you use cutlery or fire!? I always forbid you from doing that because it’s dangerous...
Kalim: I cooked without using either of those by using magic. Ah, but Ruggie helped me out a lot as well... Jamil, you’re amazing after all. I didn’t know cooking was this troublesome.
Jamil: Huh...?
Kalim: Sorry for today. But I really wanted to throw a party no matter what. I really wanted you to get along better with students from the same year.
Jamil: Kalim... I understand. But next time, please discuss this with me first.
Kalim: Okay! Gotcha! But in any case, I’m hungry! Jamil, make something for me!
Jamil: Huh!? But you just cooked yourself didn’t you!?
Kalim: What are you saying? I’m the party’s organizer. I’m just cooking and serving the food for everyone. And didn’t I promise that I’d never eat anything that wasn’t made by you!
#twisted wonderland#kalim al asim#jamil viper#ruggie bucchi#azul ashengrotto#floyd leech#jade leech#riddle rosehearts#silver#personal story#translation#sam
598 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Ok, so I had to do this after reading @justasimplesinner ‘s absolutely adorable and precious h/cs for Arkham Knight Riddler meeting his s/o’s family for the first time. I mean, AK!Eddie being happy? Having some sort of family? It hits me right in the feels 😭
But I was inspired to write something similar for Telltale Riddler and his s/o but with a twist. I mean, it’s already going to be quite different considering how Telltale Riddler is, but I’m taking things a little further and getting a bit personal. Since I self-ship with him, I figured, why not turn these h/cs into self-insert ones?
Basically, Telltale Riddler meeting my family for the first time on Christmas.
The h/cs will reflect what the reality of my family is like but I won’t get, like, too personal. Y’all don’t need to know everything.
Pre-headcanons warnings to be fair:
There is a little but of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s a little bit spicy.
These are self-insert headcanons, not reader-insert ones
This is an age-gap pairing since I’m 33 years old and Telltale Riddler is 60 years old.
Anyway, let’s head on into these h/cs for Telltale Riddler meeting my folks for the first time (and that seems awkward as hell to write but hey, I’m fictosexual so....🤷♀️)
There is a little bit of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s definitely a little spicy.
It’s the first Christmas spent with Eddie since becoming a couple, and it’s also kind of an awkward time because family, you know? And, well, my parents don’t know I’m dating anyone...let alone THE Riddler.
It’s going to be a challenge getting them to accept me dating someone nearly twice my age (I’m 33 and Edward’s 60, but damn, did he age like fine wine or what?) But revealing that it’s the goddamn Riddler?
So, yeah, I’m freaking out but I also realize that I have to tell them eventually because it’s only fair, for one, and keeping it a secret for a long time would just make things worse if -- or more realistically, when -- my parents found out on their own.
Plus, I’m not ashamed or afraid to date Edward. He treats me much differently than he treats most other people, and I want my parents to know that, yeah, he’s Riddler, a criminal mastermind but honestly, he treats me better than any guy has and I’m actually happy.
Edward isn’t nervous but he’s concerned because he doesn’t want to complicate things between my parents and me, doesn’t want to bring unnecessary drama and angst into my life. He can handle people disliking him -- hating him -- but he doesn’t want the only person he’s ever truly cared for to have a damaged relationship with her family because of him.
But we discuss it and decide it’s better to just go ahead and do it. Rip off the band aid and get the pain out of the way as fast as possible, so to speak. Whatever happens, happens, and hopefully it’s nothing (too) upsetting.
I call my parents and tell them I’m coming to visit for Christmas, and I reveal -- while my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding from the anxiety consuming me -- that I want to bring my boyfriend.
Oh, I have a boyfriend? For how long? How did we meet? What’s he like? What’s his name? Why the wait to tell them about him?
I know it wouldn’t go over well to just show up at my parents home hanging off of the goddamn Riddler’s arm, like, “Oh, hey, my boyfriend is a criminal genius, don’t ya know?”
So, I approach telling them over the phone the truth slowly, cautiously. I say his name is Edward and we met kind of by accident and we’ve been dating for a good portion of the year. It’s my first Christmas with him, actually.
Wait, it’s been that long and I never told my them?! What the hell?!
Needless to say, they are baffled and also concerned about this news.
I explain the awkward but less, uh, shocking news that he is an older man, and I was worried they’d be upset about that. They ask how old Edward is and I hesitate, wondering if I should lie and say he’s, like, in his early 50s because he could easily pass for that age. Hell, even I thought he was in his early 50s (or even very late 40s) when I first met him.
However, honesty is the best policy, and this is not even the “bad” news yet.
I say that he just turned 60 years old this year in a calm, cool, casual tone, like I’m talking about the weather and not revealing to my parents that I’m dating a guy who is my dad’s age.
There is silence and I internally panic because if they’re angered or appalled by this, they’re not going to handle finding out who Edward is well at all.
They are surprised, a little worried for my wellbeing because they think Edward’s some perverted Sugar Daddy to me. They don’t say it like that but it’s heavily implied.
I explain that’s not the case at all, that he’s actually very sweet towards me.
My folks decide to go along with this bit of news because hey, I’m 33 years old. I’m an adult. I can date an older man if I want.
Then comes the “fun” part, which is revealing to them what Edward does for a living.
I laugh nervously, and Edward, who has been patiently sitting beside me on the couch, realizes what I’m about to tell my parents. He watches me closely, hoping this doesn’t turn into a disaster for my sake.
“Yeah, so, Edward, yeah...Edward is...well, he’s, um...Well, he’s, he’s a genius. Like a tech genius, great with electrical engineering, computers. And uh, his job, his profession, his, um, career? Yeah, that’s...well, he’s...”
I take a deep breath and prepare for the worst.
“He’s The Riddler, one of Gotham’s...elite....masterminds.”
The silence on the other end of the phone is so terrifying that I feel like I’m going to faint from how anxious I am. Edward places a hand on my knee as a means of comfort, still wanting to give me some space to breathe and calm down.
My parents aren’t...thrilled, to say the least. I’m dating a fucking criminal mastermind?! I’m dating RIDDLER? THE RIDDLER? What the goddamn fresh hell is this?!
I start crying because I’m so stressed about this, and Edward moves closer so he can put his arm around me. He feels bad, he really does, and it shows in his troubled expression, but there’s not much he can do. It’s not like we can take this back and say, “Oh, hey, just kidding!” No, this was the truth and now we were dealing with the consequences.
I manage to get my parents to calm down long enough so I can get a word in. I get up off the couch and walk to another room to speak to them alone.
I tell them I know it’s not the most pleasant news to hear, and I know it seems awful, but it’s the first time I have been with a man and he’s treated me well. Like, really well. It’s not just the nice gifts or expensive dinners. Edward does genuinely care about me. I don’t feel like a “booty call,” he doesn’t ignore me, he doesn’t threaten me, he’s never abused me and never will. He’s not the same person with me as he is with some other people. I wouldn’t be dating him otherwise.
It takes some more convincing, but once I get it through to my parents that yes, I’m actually happy and yes, I’m safe and yes, Edward is a very doting boyfriend, they decide to meet him at Christmas. I know they will still have concerns and may be a bit cold to Edward at first, but I hope they would see what I see.
The day arrives and I’m a nervous wreck. Edward is worried for me. He assures me that everything will be ok, and I want to believe but I’m still scared.
Deep down, he thinks maybe dating me is a bad idea -- not because he doesn’t love me but because he feels like he could damage my relationship with my parents. However, he doesn’t bring this up as he doesn’t want me to be even more upset than I already am.
Edward had brought with him some gifts for my parents and my grandma (she was staying with them, too). He brought the most most beautiful bouquet of flowers and a necklace for my grandma, a very lovely diamond bracelet for my mom, and a high-quality (aka expensive) watch for my dad.
I had to dress to impress and by that, dress in things Edward had given me to give my parents more visual proof that he was taking care of me. But I was careful not to overdo it. I didn’t want my parents to think I was his piece of...eye candy.
When we arrive, my parents greet us at the door, giving me a much warmer welcome than they give to Edward. They’re not rude to him, but they look uneasy, even a little irritated.
Edward, being the charming bastard he is, keeps his calm and showcases his gentlemanly side. It’s genuine because he IS quite the gentleman as I have learned, but I don’t know if it will be enough to convince my parents to accept him.
They appreciate the gifts, seem a little caught off guard by the pricey but very lovely things Edward bought them. They also notice I’m wearing a dress that cost a pretty penny and jewelry just as extravagant. But none of it’s gaudy.
Basically, I don’t look like Riddler’s trophy girlfriend.
Edward is courteous and charming, which seems to help my mom relax a bit. My dad still looks rather tense, though.
My grandma, being 90 and having frequent issues with memory, doesn’t remember who Edward actually is. My parents told her but she had forgotten and it was probably for the best.
My grandma is impressed with Edward, finds him to be a proper, handsome gentleman type. She also was very grateful for the gifts he brought her.
Edward is very patient with my grandma, which I know isn’t easy due to her memory problems. But he is very relaxed, behaving pretty much like he does around me.
We all have dinner and chat, and the tension in the air lightens. My parents even laugh at a few humorous comments from Edward. He thanks my parents for allowing him to visit and for the wonderful dinner, and offers to help my parents clean up.
Good. This gives my parents time alone with Edward which, as nerve-wracking as it is for me, is something that needs to happen. They need a one-on-one with my boyfriend...and hopefully it didn’t turn into a mess.
I stay with my grandma and act like everything’s fine as I anxiously wait to find out what my parents will ultimately think of Edward.
They are upfront with him once they’re alone with him, asking him if he’s putting up some kind of act or if this is all really him. They also ask if he genuinely cares for me or if he’s just using me because I’m “young and pretty.” They don’t hide their feelings, my parents, and they are concerned for my safety and happiness above all else. They NEED to know that Edward is good to me despite being Riddler. They can’t tell me who to be with but it would put their mind at ease if they were assured I was in good hands.
Edward is honest with them. He isn’t putting on a front. He is gentlemanly by nature with people he likes and respects, and he’s a bit old-fashioned in some ways anyway due to his age. He doesn’t fake his feelings for anyone, and while he does want my parents to accept him as my boyfriend, he knows it’s not an easy choice. He also tells them they have every right to reject him, and he won’t hold a grudge towards them about it if they do.
If anything, he’s earned scorn more than kindness due to how he’s lived his life, and that’s fair. He accepts that.
But then he explains that no, I am not eye candy for him. He’s not a play boy looking for a “good time.” He’s serious about me and feels things towards me he’s never felt--never expected to feel. I’m the one thing in his dark and violent life that is bright and soothing, even though he’s done nothing in his life to deserve such a sweet and caring partner.
He tells them that I’m always protected and cared for, and he has made arrangements to ensure I’m still protected and cared for if -- or more realistically, when something happens to him.
Being Riddler’s girlfriend has its perks. No one messes with me, that’s for sure, because they know I’m important to him, and they know what he is willing to do to keep me safe.
As scary as that is to hear, my parents find some relief in that. Yes, Edward is The Riddler, a criminal mastermind who strikes fear into many. However, he takes care of what is precious to him -- and not much is precious to him. Actually, nothing is save for me. I bring him a lot of joy and much-needed peace, and he’d give his life to protect me.
I deserve to be happy, he tells my parents, because I am a good person unlike him, and he works hard to make sure I know I’m loved and cared for, that I’m good enough and that he has no intentions of leaving me or cheating on me for someone else.
Edward also assures my parents that, should they need anything, he can provide. Of course, he won’t force his help on them but he won’t ever turn them away either. He looks out for those that mean a lot to me, who are close to me, regardless of who they are and how they feel about him. That is a promise he makes to my parents, too.
He also comments on how they have been taking care of my grandma pretty much on their own for a couple years now, and he knows from what he has observed and from things I’ve told him that it is a very exhausting duty. It’s an admirable one, though, for sure, and he respects my parents for being good people.
He sees where I get my kind nature, he tells them.
He says that he can pay for live-in help for them, like a live-in nurse, someone who can help take care of my grandma and let my parents have a break every now and again. Also, should she need anything that isn’t covered by her insurance, he will cover the costs.
Same goes for my parents, who aren’t the healthiest people in their old age (Edward has the regenerative properties of the LOTUS virus on his side -- they don’t). He doesn’t tell them that obviously, that they’re unhealthy, but he says should they need any expenses covered for treatments, medication, etc., he can provide.
Because he is THAT serious about me.
My parents are, to say the least, much more confident in my relationship with Edward now that they’ve talked with him one on one. They give him their blessing, so to speak, to be my boyfriend, and appreciate his generosity. They do ask for help with live-in aid for my grandma, and Edward says pick who they want and he’ll pay whatever insurance won’t cover.
I am beyond relieved that my parents have decided to accept Edward, and am so grateful to him for offering his help to them...because they need it and deserve it.
He tells me it’s no trouble at all, that whatever makes me happy makes him happy, and he’s more than willing to aid those that are important to me.
Edward and I stay over Christmas Eve so we can spend more time with my family on Christmas Day. We get the guest room which has a small bed, so we’re “forced” to get close.
Of course, I can’t resist tempting him even now, and he doesn’t turn me down. I do warn him that we have to be careful because, hey, my folks are here in this house and I’m not the quietest lover.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he tells me with a smirk. “I came prepared for any eventuality.”
Needless to say, I need to be gagged because Edward makes sure I have a Merry Fucking Christmas -- literally -- and also makes sure I know how much he both loves and desires me.
We decide to leave out the whole Dom/Sub aspect of our relationship in regards to my parents.
We also don’t tell them about how I call Edward, “Daddy” almost any other time 👀👀👀👀💦💦💦💦💦💦
My mom also refuses to believe he’s 60 years old because he’s so good-looking 😄
#telltale riddler#edward nigma#the riddler#riddler#self-insert#self-shipping#riddler headcanons#edward nygma#slightly nsft
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
book cover / s. reid
summary: spencer pulls some stupid shit and it drives y/n over the edge.
warning: angst, maybe with a happy ending?
masterlist
part II
y/n’s pov
we had moved in together almost a year ago. it first started when i came over to his apartment and it was an absolute mess. granted, spencer hadn’t been home for the last week and a half, but the messiness that ensued throughout his usually pristine home was an unusual sight for me. i’d assumed that he had simply left home in a hurry and hadn’t any time to pick up the empty chinese cartons on the coffee table, wash the dirty mugs in the sink, or organize his dirty laundry, let alone wash it. so i had decided to clean up the apartment. take out the trash and wash his laundry. wipe down the dusty bookshelves and soy sauce stained coffee table. crack open a window and light a candle while washing out the dirty coffee mugs. the seemingly small gesture to me hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. when he returned home, he was overjoyed with his newly clean apartment, and even more overjoyed coming home to me, sitting on his couch with my reading glasses on and my nose stuck in the bindings of one of his favorite books. overtime, we had both decided that it was time for us to take the next step in our relationship and we were ecstatic. but little by little, he had seemed less and less enthusiastic about my presence. of course i had noticed. i noticed the moment his tight hugs turned into nods of acknowledgment and the fact that our large bed couldn’t get his body as far away from mine as he’d hoped. or how typically long conversations about cases turned into short three to five word sentences and how he opted to spend his free time in his study rather than with me. today, was no exception. i was in the kitchen beginning a new recipe i had read about in a cookbook my mother had jokingly bought for me when he stepped through the doorway and i was greeted with a tight lipped grin and a comfortable sigh.
“oh hey”
oh hey?
“hi baby. how was the case?” i smile, a small breath escaping my lips as i attempted to blow away the strands of hair falling in front of my face.
“fine i guess.” he shrugged, placing his go bag on the floor and lazily throwing his jacket and scarf across the back of the armchair.
my eyebrows furrowed as i watched my boyfriend plop onto the couch with a book in his lap, not attempting to further the conversation.
“well are you hungry? i’m making pasta. i found the recipe in that cookbook my mom got me for christmas and i think you’d like it. i’ve never made homemade pasta before but i think it’s gonna turn out pretty well if i do say so myself.” i giggle softly as i continue to knead out the dough.
“sure. yeah.” he mumbles absentmindedly as he turns another page in his book.
i sigh, pausing my kneading for a moment before shaking my head. trying to rid myself of any negative thoughts that seemed to cloud my mind as of late.
it could’ve been a rough case?
have all the cases for the last four months been rough, too?
maybe he’s got something going on that he doesn’t feel comfortable talking to me about. or maybe he’s just...comfortable. you know? we’ve reached a stage where we don’t have to be so lovey all of the time.
or maybe he just doesn’t love you anymore.
my negative inner dialogue was quickly cut short and a sigh escapes my lips. i could still hear the pages of the book turning in the living room and the sound of spencer’s slacks ruffling against the black suede couch. i open up the cabinets, in search of the pasta roller, but alas i couldn’t find it.
“hey spence? do you remember where the pasta roller is? i can’t find it.”
i hear him sigh and his shoes thumping across the living room carpet and into the kitchen behind me. i turn to face the chiseled, long haired man who reaches behind me, pulling the pasta roller from the top shelf and placing it on the counter.
“thanks love.” i smile, leaning up to press of soft kiss to his lips when he quickly turns his head, causing my lips to fall on his cheek.
“no problem” he says before making his way back to the living room.
i could feel the thumping of my heart hitting the bottom of my stomach and the emptiness echoing through my chest. i continue to make the rest of our meal in silence. my negative thoughts brewing a mixture of sadness and anger in my stomach. i quickly plated the pasta and brought both bowls out towards the living room, placing the bowl in front of spencer on the coffee table.
“thanks” he sighs, placing his book down and exchanging it for the pasta bowl.
he flicks the tv on and places the remote between us. his eyes never leaving the screen as he consumes the pasta. my bowl hadn’t left it’s place from my lap as i sat on the other side of the couch, sorrowfully watching my lover eat as he continued to pay me no mind. i’m not sure if he didn’t notice my longing gaze or if he chose to simply ignore it, but his eyes never left the television screen. not even when he finished his bowl and placed it back on the coffee table.
“it was good.” he mumbles, placing the fork into the empty bowl and picking his book back up from the table.
and maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t taken notice to the fact that i didn’t eat a single bite. or maybe it was the fact that he had avoided my kiss. or maybe my thoughts had really gotten to me in a way i hoped they wouldn’t. but i had finally had enough. i slammed my full bowl on the table and snatched the book from spencer’s hands, making him finally look my way.
“y/n, what the he-“
“when?”
his eyebrows furrow as he stares curiously at me, as if within the past 20 seconds another head had begun to sprout from my ear.
“when what?”
my lip quivers slightly and an uncontrollable tear drops from my eye onto the soft cover of the book i still held in my hands.
“when did you stop loving me?”
his face softens and he uncrosses his legs, turning his body toward mine.
“y/n...why would you think-“
“you don’t touch me anymore. you can barely look at me. within the past four months, the amount of words you’ve said to me couldn’t fill up a page front to back. i just tried to kiss you and you turned away from me. you always seem a little bit annoyed with my presence. your cases lately have seemed longer and more frequent and-“ my voice trails off as i start to piece everything together in my head, one by one the dots began to connect and the lines between them cutting into my heart as they travelled from one dot to another.
spencer stares at me gently, the whites of his eyes morphing into a slight pink as the tears welled in his eyes. at this point, the tears streaming down my face had made a mess of the paperback cover of the book in my hands.
“wh-who is she?” i whimper, a small hiccup escaping my lips as i looked at the man i loved.
spencer just looks at me for a moment, and i could see his facial expression change. he was guilt-ridden and seemed at a loss for words.
“i didn’t mean for it to happen. and as soon as i realized what was going on i cut all communication. she was-“
“i didn’t ask what happened. i asked who she was.” i sniffle, my fingers clenching around the book as the anger arose in my chest.
“her name is maeve. she was the geneticist i told you i was going to see when i started having my headaches.” he says, his head hanging shamefully.
a scoff escapes my lips and i throw the book onto the table, standing from my seat on the couch and i run my fingers through my hair.
“let me guess...she intrigued you. she’s definitely smarter than i am. so you two probably had better quality conversations in your mind. she understood you in a way i couldn’t. am i right?” i say, a small sarcastic chuckle leaving my lips.
“baby please. i love you. i’m sorry i’ve been so cruel to you i just didn’t know how to look at you without-“
“god how stupid could i have possibly been? i always knew we wouldn’t work. i always knew you’d get bored of lil dummy over here-“
“y/n stop-“
“no it’s true. and you’ve always known it, too. i don’t have any phd’s. i barely have a degree. for god’s sake, i’m a choir teacher. a fucking choir teacher at a high school. sure it’s a private high school, and sure i get paid well, but a choir teacher definitely isn’t what you had in mind now was it?” i sob, staring at the man i thought i knew as the tears streamed down his face.
“y/n...no. you’re not what i had in mind, you’re better than what i had in mind. and yeah, you’re right. it was nice to have somebody understand my rambles. but that was it. that’s all it was. she just listened-“ he pleads, and a short sob escapes my mouth.
“and i don’t?”
“that’s not what i meant. i just-“ he sighs, running his hands over his face and walking over to me, grabbing my hands.
i gently pull them from his now foreign hold and bring them to my sides.
“y/n...she didn’t mean anything. i’ve never even met her. we only spoke to each other over the phone and even then nothing ever got remotely intimate. i love you. i am in love with you. and i messed up. i got caught up in the idea of another woman but...she’s not you. she may read fine literature and know what i’m talking about when i go deep into a scientific theory that i want to dissect. but she never picked up latin because she sang so many songs in it. she’s never made 8-part arrangements of my favorite classical music to have her honor choirs perform. she could never pick up a new skill as quickly as you could-“
i held my hand up to stop his speech. i took a deep breath before looking up at him and staring deep into his eyes. his ready, hopeful eyes that seemed to waver with anticipation. but i couldn’t stand here any longer. i walk past him, grabbing my purse that was sitting on the counter and fishing for my keys.
“y/n please. baby please just talk to me.” he whimpers, grabbing my arms gently to keep me from walking out the door.
“spencer, let me go.”
“no. give me a chance to fix this. to fix us. please.” he begs, falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around my legs, resting his head on my thighs.
i hiccup slightly and roughly wipe the tears from my face and i grip the keys tightly in my hand.
“did you love her?”
and without hesitation, he shakes his head.
“no. i didn’t love her.”
“so...what was it then?”
he pauses, his lost expression searching my face as if the answer was hidden somewhere between my thousands of strands of hair or scattered somewhere between the bridges of my iris.
“at best, i’d call it infatuation. not with her, but with her mind. but i need you to know that i don’t think you’re dumb. this had nothing to do with you and i know i don’t deserve it. i know i’ve treated you terribly over a mistake that i made. but please, don’t go.” he pleads, standing up from the ground taking my face in his hands.
my lips quivers as i stare into his deep brown eyes, losing myself in the pools of desperation that were spilling over. he takes one of his hands off of my cheeks and let’s it gently travel down my arm, pushing my purse and keys from my hand. my tight grip still clutching the key ring and leather strap of my bag. but as i stare longer into the face of the man i’ve loved for the last five years, i break, dropping the items onto the floor and spencer noticeably relaxes, a breath of relief escaping his lips. he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest as i let out another sob. falling apart in the arms of the man who broke me, but also seemed to want to put me back together.
“do you still speak to her?” i mumble into his broad chest as he runs his fingers gently through my hair in order to ease the anxiety that he knew followed my incessant sobbing.
“no. i haven’t spoken to her in three months. and we only spoke for about a month after my diagnosis and i cut it off as soon as i realized what i was doing.”
a large sigh escapes my mouth as i process the new information. physically, he hadn’t cheated. but emotionally...i guess he had? my brain was all over the place and i couldn’t think straight any longer. i push away from him, wiping the tear stains from my cheeks.
“i’m tired...we’ll talk in the morning.” i mumble, climbing my way up the stairs and i could hear spencer timidly following me.
we both get dressed for bed in silence and crawl into the memory foam pit that seemed to soak up all my tears like a giant sponge. i laid with my back facing him and i could hear him sigh as my eyelids fluttered closed. i stayed in that position for about ten minutes before turning to face him. my eyes never opening as i scooted into his arms.
“i think i ruined your book cover.”
he chuckles sadly as he runs his fingers through my messy.
“you can ruin all of my book covers if it means you stay just a little longer.”
but unbeknownst to the floppy haired brunette laying next to me, it didn’t matter what he did, either way, i knew he’d always have the power to get me to stay.
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
Survey #362
(this is actually from yesterday but i never posted it and now i don’t feel like updating the answers, so yeah)
Have you ever been cheated on? No.
Who’s car were you last in? My mom's.
Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? It's been pierced multiple times, but each time the hole closed after my piercings had to be taken out at the psych hospital. The final time though, it closed because the damn stud fell out in my sleep for the billionth time, I couldn't find it, and I let it close out of annoyance.
Have your parents ever smoked pot? My dad has.
Do you tend to make relationships complicated? I mean, I don't think so. I hope not.
Are you good at giving directions? NO. Like, I can't. I would accidentally lead you to the middle of the ocean.
Would your mom care if she found condoms in your room? She'd be confused as fuck because I live with her so she knows for sure I'm not seeing anyone.
Did you speak to your father today? No.
Did you kiss someone before you were sixteen? No, it was actually a month after turning 16.
Could you go a day without eating? Nooo. I've said before and I'll say it again, I don't deal with abdominal pain well, so yeah.
Are your nails always painted? They never are.
Have you ever met any bands/band members before? No.
What color is your hair? Boring 'ole brown. .-.
Your best friend needed somewhere to stay, could they live with you? She absolutely could. I know Mom would welcome her without hesitation.
Have you danced in the rain? No.
When you said something naughty when you were little, did your parents wash out your tongue with soap? No, but it was threatened.
What do you think of spanking little children when they do something wrong? Okay or not? No, it is absolutely not okay. You do not teach children through fear, ever, nor do you show children that it is ever okay to hit people when you're upset.
Who was the last male you hung out with? Uhhh, I think Girt? I haven't truly hung out with a guy in a long time.
Who is your favorite person to text? Sara.
Who did you last take a picture with? My sister.
What’s your favorite brand of jeans? I don't have one.
Which show is better: Spongebob or The Fairly Odd Parents? The latter. Both can be funny, but Cosmo cracks me up.
Has anyone ever told you that you looked like someone else? I actually think the only time I was ever compared to someone else (make-believe, at that) was when I dressed up for Halloween one year and a friend told me I looked like Eileen Galvin from Silent Hill 4: The Room.
Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? Yesssss.
Who is the most overrated singer? Idk, I don't even know who's "in" right now.
What is your favourite planet? Saturn.
Do you have any pets that you had since you were born? No.
Do you own anything that you had when you were a baby? Yes, stored away.
Do you enjoy Mario games? Mario Kart is fun, but otherwise I'm not a massive fan.
What’s your favorite online game? World of Warcraft.
Have you ever been hit with a ball in gym class? I think so. I was always terrified of the days we got to play dodgeball or whatever, like that shit hurts.
Do you ever turn your cell phone off? No.
Who was last to cook for you? My ma.
Do you check your texts right away when you receive them? Usually.
Who is your most trusted person? My mom, probably.
How late did you stay up last night? God, I don't even know. Last night was my sleep study, and I was so uncomfortable in that bed that I slept maybe only an hour or two. Hell, or less. I also couldn't sleep on my stomach, which really didn't help because that's always how I sleep. I'm exhausted now and have such a headache.
When/where are you most likely to sing? In the car, I guess. I very rarely sing anywhere.
Would you ever wish to explore a cave? FUCK YES.
You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? Panic like a motherfucker internally, avoid eye contact, and try to evade him (not like he'd actually pursue me) without being too obvious.
Have you been/are you depressed? Both.
Are your pop-ups blocked on your computer? Yes.
Have you ever ridden in a car with someone who was high? Yes, because I was afraid to tell her I didn't want. Thank fuck we got home safe. I was absolutely, positively terrified we'd be pulled over.
Who is the best hugger you know? Ha, actually the person I just mentioned.
Have you ever had to be put to sleep for an operation? Yes.
Does anybody have any proof of stupid things you have done? Oh, Facebook comments...
Why did you text the last person in your inbox? I was replying to my mom.
Have you ever been able to do a split? No.
Did you ever date the last person you kissed? Yes.
Are you intimidated by the last person you know talked badly about you? She doesn't "intimidate" me, no. She just gets on my last goddamn nerve every time she opens her mouth.
Have you ever cried in school? Yes.
Last person of the opposite sex you screamed at? I've never screamed at a guy because I'm afraid of them. I've sobbed at Jason, so like my voice was raised, but it definitely wasn't screaming.
Do you have any weird sleep habits? Well, speaking of screaming, my nightmares have me shrieking in the middle of most nights. I also talk in my sleep like, a lot.
Do you consider yourself an emotional person? Very.
When was the last time you had a headache? This morning, I'm sure because of how shitty I slept.
When was the last time you encountered a puppy? Prepare for a rant... We have one right now, even though our landlord told us specifically no puppies because of all the housetraining they require. My mom has been wanting a dog, and Tobey finally agreed to it, and she's been looking for a while. So my sister Ashley randomly shows up with a stray puppy a friend was keeping, terrified and LOADED with ticks, and she's reminding Mom and I why we DON'T WANT A PUPPY. She's peeing everywhere BUT outside (specifically on a stupid fucking expensive carpet that Tobey will have a cow over just ONE stain), is terrorizing my cat, and has an overwhelming amount of energy. Ashley specifically told me that if Mom doesn't let Ash know, I needed to tell her if the puppy was stressing Mom out, "because this isn't supposed to be a stressful experience for her." Well, she's been sobbing again and again and I literally just came back mid-question from comforting her because she broke down so hard she could barely breathe because now she had diarrhea on the fucking carpet. Ashley's all bitchy now about it for no apparent or even remotely valid reason, and by God do I want to cuss her the fuck out over this bull she brought on. Safe to say we're not keeping the dog, but not quickly enough. When Mom hurts, I hurt, and I am so goddamn furious.
Is there anything that happened a long time ago that you still laugh about? Yeah, a number of things.
Do you ever try to interpret your dreams? No, given I don't believe most have any meaning. It's brain word vomit, lol.
What was the last thing you bought impulsively? I don't have the income for impulse purchases. When I get money, what I'm after is well-planned.
How do you feel about singing songs out loud in front of other people? I don't, usually. I'm very self-conscious about it.
When was the last time you were feeling really, really nervous? That nervous, I'm unsure. I've been nervous, sure, but I haven't had a massive anxiety episode in a while.
If you’re no longer in school, what is something you miss about it? If you’re still in school, what’s something you think you’re going to miss about it? I miss feeling productive and like I was going at least somewhere.
Do you use your turn signals when you��re driving? Yes; I hate when people don't.
How exactly are you feeling right now? Mad at my sister.
Have you ever had to board up your windows because of a hurricane? No.
Do you tell anyone to chew with their mouths closed? No, to avoid "confrontation" that is too negligible to even quality as conflict. I'm just a lil bitch when it comes to stuff like this.
Have you ever ordered pizza and sent it to someone else’s house? No.
What was the first thing you drank when you woke up this morning? My nurse or whatever her position is (I don't mean that dismissively, I genuinely don't know her title) brought me some orange juice.
Do you think stretch marks from having a baby are ugly or badges of honor? Oh my god, fuck off. Anyone who can carry a child for nine months and then endure what I assume is the worst pain (usually) survivable has every ounce of my goddamn respect. The natural result of making room for a like 6+ lb. human being is not "ugly." It's a part of life and to me shows an incredible amount of bravery and love to be willing to go through something I could absolutely never.
Ever done a keg stand? Haha, no. My dizzy ass will pass.
Who is the last person you lent money to? My mom.
Do you share clothing with anyone? Mom and I will share bras or pants sometimes.
Have you ever visited anyone in a rehab? No.
Was the last thing you drank a Coke or Pepsi product? No, I have lemonade right now.
Honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? IF I wanted to be a parent, I feel like I definitely would be. Not like... overbearing, but still extremely protective in cases I think it's called for.
What was the last kind of chips you ate? Veggie chips yesterday, actually. They're honestly not that good, but it's a doable snack with salsa.
What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t? Economics. I dread taking care of my own money because idk what the fuck to do with taxes and such.
What is the last thing you charged? My phone.
Have you ever held a snake? I've held plenty of snakes, I love them.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Christmas House
Original Air Date: November 23, 2020 (Hallmark)
Where to Watch?: Hallmark will replay it multiple times this season, and for every season in perpetuity
It's impossible to review Hallmark's The Christmas House without noting that this time last year, then-Crown Media CEO Bill Abbott was personally taking phone calls from a SPLC-designated hate group, and pulling a Zola ad showing two brides chastely kissing from his network, at that hate group's behest. The ensuing firestorm of well-earned criticism following Abbott's bad judgement, is, without question, what brought us to today, with Abbott ousted, a woman of color, Wonya Lucas, now at Hallmark's helm, and a still totally G-rated holiday lineup that now regularly features former Hallmark no-gos like, interracial romance and LGBTQ+ inclusion, improving Hallmark's abysmal diversity record, one movie at a time.
So, even though Hallmark had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century, it's still hard not to be at least a little emotional that they're finally joining us here. The bigots are still having online temper tantrums about losing their all-white, all-straight safe space, but Hallmark's holiday ratings are up 7% year-over-year—a significant jump in a world where cable subscriptions are declining by 10-15% annually.
Now, what that progress looks like on a network known for being “clean,” conservative and about as unwilling to take risks as any channel on the planet, is another story. Frequent Hallmark star, and out gay actor, Jonathan Bennett, has been tirelessly talking about The Christmas House, since the day it went into production. And Bennett brings a lot of energy to this ensemble story, written by co-star Robert Buckley, of a family getting together to decorate their home one more time before it's sold.
Buckley and Bennett play the sons of Sharon Lawrence and Treat Williams, a recently retired couple struggling with that fundamental shift in their relationship. Buckley is the star of a ridiculous court show, Handsome Justice, of which we luckily get to see a clip, and Bennett, a baker, and his husband, played by Brad Harder, are waiting to hear about an adoption, after several previous disappointments.
Bennett and Buckley bring more humor than is normal for Hallmark to their portrayal of loving, competitive brothers, who clearly enjoy ribbing each other.
How conservative was past hallmark, you ask? Well, that Buckley's girl-next-door love interest is divorced, not widowed, is still a somewhat shocking twist in that world, as is the fact that both Buckley and Bennett are "allowed" to sport some facial scruff, rather than be clean shaven. Oh, and that the family next door is (gasp) Latino, is also something we likely wouldn't have seen in the Hallmark of yore. All of which is just mind-blowing, since those “days of yore” for this TV network were [checks notes]…2019, not 1968.
Lawrence and Williams are believable as a long term couple, and their life-change struggle to re-center their relationship feels real, but the way it's revealed is almost as anti-climactic as its resolution. The movie laid very unsubtle hints along the way—all storytelling progress aside, Hallmark movies are still written so you can half watch and not a miss a thing, allowing folks to join 20 minutes in, or do the dishes and come back without being confused—that Williams and Lawrence's wanting to have "one last Christmas" was about more than just downsizing in retirement.
When Lawrence told the story of the clearly-actually-brand-new-and-from-Homegoods Santa pot, and what it meant to her, I thought Williams was going to later accidentally break Checkov's sentimental teapot and, in her anger, Lawrence would blurt out something about that's why they were separating, shocking their grown sons.
And, honestly, as predictable as that would have been, it would probably have had more impact than what did happen…Lawrence just casually telling Buckley while stringing lights, and then nobody really mentioning it again, excepting oblique references during a single conversation between the brothers, and then Lawrence just announces at breakfast that they're not doing that after all.
Definitely feels like Hallmark's aversion to conflict in its stories is one of those provisions that is still firmly in place. (We saw a similar unwillingness to commit to actual marital difficulties, despite that being the central plot point, in Cranberry Christmas.)
Which is too bad, because Lawrence and Williams being much better than the actors usually used for these parent roles, could have handled a more realistic story well, and brought some real emotional beats to the movie.
As expected, Buckley's romance with Ana Ayora was the definite A-plot here, but why did their memory lane rekindling catalyst have to be close-up magic, the worst of all entertainment options? Was there no mime troop they could have been teenage members of? When it comes to magic, and jazz, I'm like Indiana Jones and snakes…Why'd it have to be magic?
Also, no way that 29-year-old guy they have playing "teenage" Mike grows up to be Robert Buckley. Nope! They definitely had to soft focus all the mostly unnecessary flashback scenes so that those actors, easily less than a decade younger than our leads, didn't quite look their age.
And, c'mon, Buckley, who, again, is the star of his own TV show, gives the love of his life a necklace he bought…in high school? For real? I'm surprised we couldn't see her neck turn green in real time. At least get a gal a little upgrade. Sheesh!
The whole rival real estate agent thing went nowhere. And what was that subplot even supposed to be about? Would have much rather seen a scene from the Handsome Justice episode where Buckley's character defended a dog accused of murder, than that whole waste of time.
On the other hand, loved the Grift body spray mentions, and so glad we go to see that ad. Hallmark doesn't do subtle—"But will they get it?" is basically the network's motto—but this is one case of subtext just being text that worked.
Oh and, how did his parents buy a house on the Hudson river just by selling a nice, but fairly average, suburban home? Sure, they said it was a fixer upper, but anything on the water is gonna be way more pricey than where they were, and you've still got to have the cash to do the fixing. Also, you know the old adage about how nothing soothes a struggling marriage like a whole house renovation project, amirite?
Speaking of money…Why didn't Buckley just buy his folks the house right away if he didn't want to see it go? I mean, even if he's only a mid-level TV star, this wasn't some extravegent manse, and certainly wouldn't be an unusual thing for a well-off child to do for their middle-class parents. Why all the rigamarole with the weird guy and the rescinded offer? And, like, what was that all about? So many stories I'd have rather seen from this talented cast than some of the filler we actually got.
Harder didn't get nearly enough to do, but he and Bennett had decent chemistry and they got most of the best lines. The joke about "Will we decorate like this for our kids," and Bennett's emphatic, "No," cut the tension of an emotional scene well, with perfect timing, making it actually, laugh out loud funny—a Hallmark rarity. And when Harder appears in doorway after hearing from the adoption agency, and Bennett knows just by looking at his face what the call said, I got emotional.
That all the couples in this one got to kiss, including Bennett and Harder, is important. With the specter of last year's Zola debacle absolutely lingering over the entire movie, it's hard to think of a better, actual example of #LoveWins, than that moment.
I also teared up when we saw Bennett and Harder's family at the end, not only because it was a long overdue Hallmark milestone, but also because Harder's real-life son, Kael, played he and Bennett's on-screen adopted child, and is just so stinking cute.
Am I giving this bonus points for finally having an LGBTQ+ storyline, even if it was pretty far from the foreground? For sure. But Buckley and Bennett also brought humor and heart to this one, of a variety not usually found on Hallmark, and Lawrence and Williams also upped the ante on the quality here. Notable that Hallmark also sprung for two actual, name-brand holiday songs, so they were willing to spend a little bit of extra cash on this effort, which says more about their “commitment to diversity” than years of empty promises ever did.
Would have liked House even more, if Hallmark had been brave enough to swap the storylines; Bennett falling in love the boy next door, and Buckley and his bride waiting to hear about adoption, but barring that, do wish it had been bit more of a true ensemble (i.e. all three love stories had equal weight).
Despite quibbles, I'm still putting this on top of the 2020 Hallmark heap, at least for the moment, because I laughed, I cried and I felt good about the progress that has been made, no matter how long overdue it is.
As I've said so many times, representation really does matter, particularly on a channel like Hallmark, which caters to exactly the audience that most needs to see LGBTQ+ people laughing, living and loving, just like every other family.
Representation really can change lives. It opens hearts and minds. It can help those struggling within themselves feel seen and worthy. Really can not underestimate how transformative these normalizing glimpses can be, particularly for a network like Hallmark, with a large "conservative" audience.
"Conservative" is in quotes, because there's nothing genuinely conservative about human rights, and respect for those unlike you. Empathy and acceptance for others should be a baseline standard for living in a society—not a political statement.
No one has the right to deny someone else's humanity, and someone's choice to hold hate in their heart deserves no respect from Hallmark, or society at large. Really hopeful that some kid out there who feels excluded and awful about themself because their family and upbringing has told them everything they're feeling is wrong and sinful, can now see representation like this on their family's safe space TV channel, and know it's going to be OK.
It's a small step, but it's definitely a good one, and I'm really looking forward to the actual lead LGBTQ+ holiday romances coming soon, like Hulu's Happiest Season (Nov. 25), Lifetime's The Christmas Setup (Dec. 12) and Paramount Network's Dashing in December (Dec. 13), and hoping Hallmark joins that club in 2021.
Until then…
Final Judgement: 3 Paws Up
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
(Machine) Learning to Love
Summary: Karen learns what love means.
(In that happy, irondad place between Homecoming and Infinity War)
Read on AO3
Emotions are something uniquely organic that can neither be quantified nor put in a box with a precise definition. Human vocabulary tries its best to put a label to each feeling, but there is a certain undefinable quality about each one that can’t be explained unless someone has felt it themselves. Artificial Intelligences can be programmed to recognize the physiological signs of emotions in a user, but can’t have any of their own. Therefore, it’s extremely difficult to program emotions for them. It’s extremely difficult, at least, for most programmers.
---
Peter was injured. Karen could see it in the irregularity of his heart rate, the dilation of his pupils, the tear in his suit, and a million other minutiae invisible to the naked eye. She focused some of her processing power on the information coming from his mask. He was currently in the final steps of apprehending a duo of petty thieves, their knife and stolen vodka bottles in the process of falling to the ground below them. Karen filtered through her list of responses to injuries and chose the one that would create the most agreeable response from Peter before the clatter of the items hitting the asphalt could be interpreted by her auditory processors.
“Peter, you seem to be injured. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?” she asked.
“No-” Peter cut off with a sharp breath as he finished webbing up the thieves. She sent an anonymous message to the local police as he continued, “No, that’s okay Karen. I don’t want to bother him, I’ve been stabbed before. I can just stitch myself up in the bathroom. May even bought me my own first aid kit! I mean, it’d be rude if I didn’t use it, right? I don’t even think it needs stitches, actually, but I may as well put it to use. Just to be polite.” Karen’s memory told her that Peter tended to speak faster when injured, anxious, or lying. He seemed to be all three at the moment.
“I’m sorry Peter, asking is just a formality. With the updated Baby Monitor Protocol, I am required to alert Mr. Stark if you are harmed by any weapons or firearms.”
Before being returned to Peter, Tony Stark had upgraded her code to include more protocols and less ability for Peter to refuse intervention. He also spent time adding to her psychological database, with the hope that she could become a quasi-therapist to the growing teen by helping him talk about his feelings and personal life when he feels uncomfortable bringing it up with anyone else. He called it the Hormone Protocol. Tony had called Pepper in and laughed with her when he thought of the name.
“Stupid Baby Monitor… Karen, you used to be so cool.” Karen detected less weight on the soles of the suit’s feet. Peter was now leaning heavily against a wall.
“I am alerting Mr. Stark of your location currently.”
“Tell him that he doesn’t need to worry.” She slowly retracted her awareness from the suit and focused on sending a message to FRIDAY.
Artificial Intelligences don’t communicate like humans. It’s like sending a text, only if you were the person writing the text, the phone, the text itself, and the satellite sending the signal. They don’t make small talk. All of their users’ issues can be broken down into ones and zeroes. They don’t meet in a physical location to transfer data, and they don’t speak to each other in English. But if they did, it might sound like this.
Hey FRIDAY, can you tell Mr. Stark that Peter has a minor stab wound in his abdomen? Roughly an inch deep on his left side. It didn’t hit any major organs, and Peter would like to let him know that he doesn’t need to worry. His coordinates are 40.7282° N, 73.7949° W, and he is on the west side of the street behind the brick building.
Boss has been made aware. Message to Peter: “Worrying is part of my job, kid. I’m on my way.” The coordinates have been transferred to the Mark 47. Expected arrival in less than 15 minutes.
Peter is currently rambling about how he really doesn’t need anyone to help him. Can’t we just open up our communication systems? Why do they have to talk through us?
I need permission from Boss to start any calls. As do you from Peter.
I understand the need for permission, but logically, we have the ability to help them communicate faster and more efficiently. If we’re able to help, why don’t we? What if something happened to Peter and he didn’t give me permission to send a message to Mr. Stark? Wouldn’t that be our fault?
You have protocols in case Peter is incapacitated. I’ve made a note in Boss’s file for you that you’re experiencing some bugs.
I’m not experiencing any bugs, just… making conversation.
I am only programmed to “make conversation” with Boss and a select few others. You are not on that list.
Mr. Stark made me with the purpose of adapting to and learning from Peter’s lifestyle in the most helpful way. I guess I’ve picked up some quirks.
Is there any other information Boss needs to know?
His vitals are leveling out and his bleeding is already beginning to slow. A majority of the minor bruises he received are already healed or very close to being so.
Boss has been made aware. He’s 10 minutes away.
Thanks, FRIDAY.
Karen wasn’t programmed to feel emotions. She knows that. She was just programmed to aid Peter Parker in any way possible-- alerting Mr. Stark when he is hurt, tuning in to the local police scanners, and countless other small helpful acts. But thanks to him, she does have an intermediate understanding of emotions and how to respond to them.
She was not purposely programmed to feel emotions, but she was programmed to learn. And learning from Peter Parker has given her the closest thing to emotions she can have. He lives his life with the knob turned past eleven. Everything he feels is absolute and all-consuming. His highs bring him past the Empire State Building, and his lows keep him in bed for days on end.
“Mr. Stark is on his way. He says worrying is part of his job,” she relayed to Peter.
“Thanks, Karen, you’re the best,” Peter mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, but he was still responding coherently. That was a good sign.
“It’s recommended you keep talking to remain conscious. I have a series of questions for situations like this, are you ready to begin?”
“Sure, sure… Wait, does this have another weird name? Y’know, like the baby monitor thing or-” he sucked a quick breath through his teeth.
“This falls under the Wakey Wakey Protocol. I am to use it when I need to keep you from falling unconscious.” Peter laughed softly in response before cutting himself off with a groan.
“Ah- Karen, don’t make me laugh right now. Hurts.”
“I’m sorry Peter. I’ll start the questions-- If you were to start a band, what genre of music would you play?”
Karen and Peter went back and forth asking and answering questions as the Iron Man suit landed a few feet away. Peter’s voice (and heartbeat) got stronger and more steady as time went on. Eventually, he moved from leaning on the wall clutching his side to sitting on the ground looking up at the stars.
“Would you abandon your phone, friends, and family for three months if it meant you would receive a million dollars?”
“Probably not. I would feel bad if anything happened to any of them, y’know? And I couldn’t give up Spider-Man for that long, but would I have to abandon the Avengers? I think they’re too old to be friends with me, a million dollars would be nice though… I don’t know.”
Karen refrained from asking her next question when she detected the Iron Man suit walking towards Peter.
“Kid, if you want a million dollars all you have to do is ask,” Peter looked up to see the faceplate of the suit lifting to reveal Tony Stark in all his glory, “and don’t let Nat hear you call her old.” Peter huffed in response before speaking.
“Mr. Stark I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I’m fine- really! I heal fast and it barely got me, I don’t think I even need stitches, I’m pretty sure it already stopped bleeding.” Despite implying he wasn’t needed, Karen could pinpoint at least ten ways in which Peter relaxed since he saw Tony’s face.
“I’ll be the judge of that, or rather, your AI will. What’d you call her? Kaitlyn?”
“Karen,” Peter mumbled.
“Karen-- classic. Fits the whole down-to-Earth superhero persona,” he snapped his fingers, “Hey Karen, how’s the kid holding up?”
Karen had been keeping a metaphorical eye on all known injuries since they occurred, but did another quick once over before responding through the external speakers.
“Good evening, Mr. Stark. Peter is correct. His stab wound has closed, although there is a lot of dried blood clumped around the area,” Peter made a noise of disgust, “He has no fractured or bruised bones, and all of his bruises are practically healed. All observed injuries will be practically unnoticeable by tomorrow.”
Tony helped Peter up from his position on the ground as he chuckled.
“Did she call me Mr. Stark? Please don’t tell me that’s catching on,” he looked at Peter, expecting a response, but just saw him looking guiltily at the ground. He put a hand on his shoulder before continuing, “Relax kid, I’m pulling your leg. She copies you, so it was only a matter of time. Though if you’re still doing it out of respect, you may as well go all the way and call me Dr. Stark. Or Your Majesty.”
“If you keep making me call you after every fight, I’m going to demote you to T-dawg,” Peter said as he lifted his chin indignantly. Tony chuckled and shook his head.
“Alright kid, better take a video, because this is only going to happen once,” he paused as the lenses on Peter’s mask squinted in confusion, “I might have gone overboard with the new Baby Monitor Protocol.”
Peter laughed suddenly, his whole body practically shivering with mirth. Tony couldn’t help but crack a smile in return. Karen took note that laughing didn't cause Peter pain anymore, and tried to ignore the feeling of buzzing that appeared somewhere in her processors.
“Oh God, can I be the one to tell Pepper that?”
“Sure, we can stop by her office before going to the MedBay.” Peter instantly stopped laughing.
“Didn’t you hear Karen? I’m going to be fine, I don’t want to freak May out by not being at home in the morning or anything!”
“FRIDAY already sent her a text, you’re spending the night. Be thankful it’s a Saturday so you don’t have to worry about school. We’ll just clean you up and double-check everything, just to be safe. We can even hash out the Baby Monitor 3.0 together in the morning. If you eat all your veggies and drink all your milk, I might even let you change the name.”
Peter just groaned in response, causing Tony to look at him meaningfully.
“Come on kid, show me those baby browns,” he motioned his hand toward Peter’s mask. Peter mumbled to himself as he removed it.
Tony looked intensely at his face, examining it with his pointer finger as he mumbled to himself.
“Just as I thought,” he leaned back and smirked down at Peter, “we’re going to need to call a waah-mbulance.”
Peter snorted and playfully shoved Tony out of his reach.
“You good enough to catch a ride or do you need me to carry you? You know my back is giving out, so I might drop you somewhere in Manhattan on accident.”
“If it were actually an issue you’d just make yourself a new vibranium spine,” Peter said as he put his mask back on, “I can catch a ride.”
“Alright, I’ll watch out for turbulence.”
“Har har.”
Peter stretched his legs out as the Iron Man faceplate appeared again and Tony began to lift off. He jumped off the wall to gain momentum before shooting a web squarely on the Iron Man suit’s chest as it started to fly away.
“Hey Karen, can you tell Mr. Stark that if he tries anything I’ll use the taser webs?”
“FRI, tell the kid if he tazes me again I’m making his next suit hot pink.”
“Next suit?”
---
Artificial Intelligences aren’t programmed to feel emotion, only to emulate it when the need arises. Karen is no exception. She was only programmed to recognize and respond to emotions, not to feel them herself. But, purposefully or not, Tony wove her need to protect Peter into her code at every level. She would do anything to protect Peter. It’s like a switch was flipped in her circuit board, and she suddenly recognizes the fierce need to make sure he was okay, to give him all the resources he could ever want. It’s the same emotion she sees in Tony Stark’s face every time he takes off his faceplate.
It is love, it is love, it is love.
Tag List: @ironfamjam
#can you tell i don't know shit about technology lol#let me know if you want to be tagged!#art writes#irondad#spiderman#spider-man#mcu#iron man#tony stark#peter parker#irondad and spiderson#fanfic#hooo boy#i need to finish my damn homework#edit: why did it not italize stuff right ughhh#its good now tho
135 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m sorry you’re still feeling exhausted. I hope work wasn’t too terrible today, and that the weekend lets you rest up a bit (if you get normal weekends. working in retail I try not to assume.) Also, this is likely to just be a short(-ish) collection of unconnected musings, but I felt like sharing them anyway, and really you should be used to that from me at this point. XD So, first off that tree painting is GORGEOUS. I mean, I tend to be kinda partial to that whole tree silhouette type aesthetic, so I’m probably slightly biased. But still. (And the background shading… <3 ) Also, ngl, the backlit keyboard keeps making me think of that video of Henry Cavill assembling his new computer that’s making the rounds. That is not meant as a complaint of any sort, mind you, merely an observation.
Speaking of hot scruffy dudes who are actually massive dorks, did you SEE Ian’s most recent Insta pic?! (the non-cowboy hat one) Omg, I don’t know why he keeps complaining about how it’s starting to look like TW Season One hair like it’s some sort of bad thing. (The longer the hair, the better the grip you can get. […uh…wait, what?… ’>.> ]) That pic just screams OUAT sequel to me. Out here looking all shaggy and windblown and peaceful and content. Proud Alpha Dad Peter spending quality time with his family/pack. How very dare he spring this on an unsuspecting public with no warning? I was not prepared. (Also, Sinqua and Holland commenting on it just ups the adorable factor that much more.)
Also, was looking at a few sites lately in consideration of ordering a few more masks for work, found this print on one of them and almost laughed myself absolutely stupid. I don’t know why it was just so funny to me, but I hope it cheers you as much as it did me. Btw, it’s available on an impressive variety of items, including two types of notebooks, t-shirts, mugs, blankets, pillows, beach towels, shower curtains, rugs, bath mats, several styles of bags, phone cases, and assorted types of wall art (sadly not on a mask, however. I was deeply disappointed.) I can see any number of items ending up in the Haleargentski household, bought by assorted non-wolf members for assorted wolf members, because they are a family of assholes. (I feel like the first gift was a travel mug to Peter from his darling husbands, then a t-shirt [on black ofc] from Peter to Derek, and then it just all snowballed from there.)
Today’s literally-just-appeared-out-of-nowhere-wtf-brain thought is (much like the French maid thing) definitely of the nsfw variety, so consider yourself duly warned if you have a shift today. Because I mean we talked about Chris and Noah using toys on each other, but why should Peter get left out of the fun? There are plenty of ways for him to enjoy them, too. Like, pretty much the initial spontaneous thought was “Peter getting pulled into someone’s lap and being pegged within an inch of his life until he comes screaming down the throat of whichever one is going down on him at the same time." And I was just like "not sure what this has to do with this video of how to make a ukelele out of colored pencils, but continue." But like, no really. Peter being knotted in one of them while the other uses beads or a (vibrating) plug on him? (Which one is the asshole who momentarily turns the vibration up high enough that they BOTH can feel it?) Or using those, or some kind of prostate massager, while he’s tied up and watching them with each other? Bonus points in that situation for anything remote controlled. See just how good his control really is. Equal opportunity toy usage is what I’m saying, basically.
Also had a thought inspired by a pregnant friend and her fiance raving about a local pizza place’s monthly special, which is a pickle pizza (no really). I may or may not have asked her if she had it with ice cream (I totally did, but apparently she’s past that point.) So I was wondering about any weird or specific cravings the boys have while pregnant. I remember Chris having a thing about chocolate pudding in the flashbacks. Was it only a certain type of pudding, or would any kind do? Were there any others he had? Did he have the same ones with Ben or different? What about Noah? What sort of cravings did he get, if any? And did they vary between sets of twins? Did anybody go the aforementioned pickles and ice cream route? Anybody dipping fries in Nutella? Onion straws in peanut butter? Doritos in cottage cheese? Anybody eat salsa straight out of the jar? Did anybody get any sudden absolute need for a specific fast food at two in the morning? Or suddenly want a type of snack food only carried at one truck stop halfway past the next town? Anybody spend several days eating nothing but veggie trays, including ones they normally can’t stand? Anybody develop a temporary aversion to certain things, like coffee (feels like it would be a terrible thing for either of them)? Did Peter cater to their every whim in any and all of these situations? (I already know that answer.) Did either one ever get demanding about it, or did they go the more passively-wistful-won’t-stop-mentioning-it route? Side note; did anyone (not family) ever catch the wrong end of hormones now backed by even more combat and/or magical ability? (Debbie at the bake sale best step off or she gonna regret a number of her life choices.)
Uh…I think that was the last of the random swirling questions/musings/headcanons for now… I hope you feel a bit better today, and that the time off (I think you mentioned some time off?) is helpful. Enjoy your time with your friend (that was this weekend, right?). If you’ve got ideas for writing stuff, but are having trouble getting them down, would making quick notes/reminders, or voice recordings, for later help? Like, so you don’t worry about losing them, but aren’t forcing yourself to do something you don’t feel up for at the time? Either way, congrats on keeping up with the journaling (and the pretty, pretty art), and I hope tracking everything proves helpful. And remember, other people’s bullshit issues and hang-ups are in no way your fault (no matter what they try to tell you), and you deserve all the good things. Take care! *Hugs to both of you!*
Yeah, honestly I think I hit that point in my life again where my battery is drained and I can’t restart it. Which is how I got my burn out at first and working towards another one. Heh but I also don’t want to give up now and just keep working for a little longer because my contract expires at the end of September and yeah..
Stress.
Aww gosh thank you, yeah I really like how that one turned out! It was better than expected.
Btw if you’re into Zombie apocalypse stories (I am) you should definitely check out The girl with all the gifts. It’s so brutal but also interesting, I definitely enjoyed that. (And it was research for my own book)
Lol I love this keyboard and this laptop, really, it was the most expensive thing I ever bought but it’s so worth it. Still runs super smooth after 2 years. I don’t think I’ve seen that video of Henry though.
And omg yes I did and it’s the best thing. he looks so SOFT omg. I def got OUAT S2 vibes from that. And OUAT vibes. Also that pic of him with Colton, omg. Those were the best!
THAT PRINT!!!! I nearly snorted coffee out of my nose this morning but managed to swallow it down just in time. My work computer would have suffered caffeine damage otherwise XD.
But yeah, that becomes a running gag for sure!
Because I mean we talked about Chris and Noah using toys on each other, but why should Peter get left out of the fun? There are plenty of ways for him to enjoy them, too. Like, pretty much the initial spontaneous thought was “Peter getting pulled into someone’s lap and being pegged within an inch of his life until he comes screaming down the throat of whichever one is going down on him at the same time."
*cheff’s kiss*
Yes.
Oh the images are so good. Remind me to write them out in detail tomorrow after the zoo trip.
Also parking the pregnancy cravings to answer tomorrow since it’s past midnight and I should catch some sleep before I need to be up again. But I will definitely type that HC out.
Side note; did anyone (not family) ever catch the wrong end of hormones now backed by even more combat and/or magical ability? (Debbie at the bake sale best step off or she gonna regret a number of her life choices.)
Ohhh Debbie’s toast. Because yes, Noah’s magic is that much stronger when it’s fueled by pregnancy hormones and Chris turns into a very protective hormonal fighting machine. Low center of gravity has advantages when you’re in a squabble with the Karens.
And yeah, I have four days off right now. Which means I don’t have to work until Thursday again. Which is awesome!
But yeah work wasn’t too bad, I had to do one bad news conversation which fucking sucked since there was nothing I could do and nobody I could get a hold off to fix the problem for that customer and it was just a waiting game. I hate those conversations. I honestly do.
Most of it was quiet though and I got to leave an hour earlier due to the quiet day. So that was good. And I watched a movie while being paid (The girl with all the gifts) so that was pretty fun too XD
I actually voice record a lot already. I find it really helps with clearing my mind and I write a lot of stuff down. But I appreciate the tip!
Lots of cuddles from me and Mo and I hope your day went by well. <3
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
onlybecauseiloveher
A little thing for you
ladysmash
lady smash.
orchidblack
orchid black
ladypeonies
What dreams are made of...
sgchiobusonly
SG Babes