#ya know i saw that post about the driver and i was inspired. if you are out there uber driver i hope you are okay <3

[bleedingoptimism]

“I’m sorry Steve, I thought we were just having fun! I enjoyed you taking me out and paying for everything that’s all…” Is what Shelley said to him when Steve walked into the bar and saw her flirting with another guy. 

Obviously, he smiled and shook his head, said everything was okay, ‘Just a silly misunderstanding’ and left, ever so graceful. But the second he was outside he cursed, tried not to shed a tear, failed, and then started laughing. 

He probably looks like a mad man, or a drunk. But no, don’t worry people, he’s not drunk or crazy, he’s just really, really stupid. He thought Shelley really liked him, he thought they were dating. And Shelley just assumed he was just another playboy so she played him back. He’s not even mad at her. She didn't mean to hurt him. It’s not her fault Steve is just so easy to hurt. 

Sighing, he gets his phone out to get an uber and hugs himself even though it’s not really that cold outside, waiting for his car, already imagining the big, greasy burger he’s going to order when he gets home. He deserves it, okay?

The car that pulls out has definitely seen better days, but it’s clean and comfortable so Steve doesn’t think twice about getting in. He offers the driver a smile through the rearview mirror, sparing a moment to notice his eyes are big and dark, and they crinkle when he smiles back at him. 

Steve sits stiff and straight for a moment before realizing no one is there to judge him right now and he deflates, sighing again and letting himself collapse against the seat. Still hugging himself to feel any sort of comfort, he bumps his head against the window softly a couple of times. 

“Long night?” The driver asks him in a friendly manner.

Steve meets his eyes in the rearview again and shrugs, smiling back crookedly “Thought I should go home early since I already accomplished making an ass of myself for the night”

He checks the uber app for the driver’s name, doesn’t want to be rude by not remembering. ‘Eddie’ chuckles at Steve's statement.

“You did, huh? Well good job on getting it out of the way then,”

Steve chuckles back, “Yeah, I was actually thinking I deserve a treat”

He notices Eddie looking back at him a couple of times before breathing an interested, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “A huge cheesy burger or something” Wondering what Eddie was thinking he’d say.

Eddie laughs again, “Oh! Right of course” and just when he’s about to say something else his phone rings.

“Oh, sorry” Eddie murmurs, immediately hanging up on whoever is calling. 

“No worries,” Steve mumbles back, sitting up a little straighter again. 

“So, what’s your favorite dirty burger place?” Eddie asks him. 

Steve can tell he’s trying to distract him from the mood he entered the car with and he really appreciates it.

He sits forward and leans his forearms against the headrest of the passenger seat, “Oh, there’s so many, but…” from this angle, he can see Eddie’s face better, and he can’t help but think he’s got a really nice looking profile, long lashes, full lips, and the cutest nose he’s ever seen, “I think Benny’s the best one” he finishes.

Eddie pulls at a stop light and turns to look at him with a smile and he’s so much prettier than Steve first thought he involuntarily gasps. But thankfully Eddie is talking excitedly and doesn’t seem to notice.

“No way you know Benny’s?! Benny is my uncle! Well, he’s married to my uncle actually- you know what I mean but yeah, Benny’s is great!” 

It’s such a weird coincidence that it managed to take Steve out of his stupor and he’s suddenly just as excited as Eddie,

“Really? Oh my god, I’m so jealous right now, I wished I could live at Benny’s sometimes” 

Eddie laughs, and just when he opens his mouth to reply his phone rings again. This time he doesn’t immediately hang up and Steve sees the screen light up with the name “you deserve better” 

Ouch, he thinks, and his heartstrings tug for his cute, sweet, uber driver. Who offered him friendly conversation cause he noticed he was feeling down and has the most beautiful laugh. He doesn't really know why he feels so strongly about it, he doesn't even know Eddie… but he still feels the text is right. Whoever hurt him, Eddie deserved better.

“Hey,” He says softly when Eddie hangs up cursing.

Eddie sighs again, “I’m so sorry,” 

“Hey, no. It’s fine,” Steve replies, resisting the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He figures, after the way his night started, he’s got nothing to lose so he says, “So much talk about Benny’s I feel like I need to go there right now.” 

Eddie let’s out a distracted “Huh?” and Steve soldiers on, “Wanna change the destination and join me? You can take me home after,”

He notices Eddie doing a double take and blushing, “Really? I- Am- I- okay” he stammers but Steve can’t really figure out why.

“Yeah, you know, that way you don’t lose time on the job and have another ride?” He finishes and Eddie laughs,

“Oh, right. Yeah That- makes sense”

They keep talking about their favorite things on the menu on the way there and soon they are sitting face to face in a booth at Benny’s.

What a pair they make, Steve in a three piece suit, jacket off, vest undone and shirt rolled up to his forearms. And Eddie with sweats and a hoodie. 

Eddie is even better looking in the shitty dinner light and the blush that adorns his cheeks ever since they came in makes Steve wanna kiss them to feel their warmth.

Benny himself comes to take their order, and Eddie gets up to hug him and introduces him to Steve. They already know each other, because Steve does come to the dinner often and Benny lets Eddie know that.

Eddie thinks it's hilarious that they both have been here so much and never saw each other before, but Steve can’t help to think it’s a shame.

“I actually would’ve loved to have met you sooner,” he tells Eddie at one point and watches curiously as Eddie’s blush turns a few shades darker.

As they eat, Steve tells Eddie about Shelley, about his hopes, about misreading the situation, about his shame. How he doesn’t even think he liked Shelley that much, but he just wanted to have something real. Eddie gets mad at him for blaming himself, tells him it wasn’t his fault, that he’s being too hard on himself. And it’s not a bad thing to consider but all Steve can think about is how cute Eddie looks when he’s mad on his behalf.

Eventually, Eddie tells Steve about whoever was calling him. 

“I met him at my last job. I thought he was so cool but turns out he was actually just cold,” Eddie shrugs, “We dated for like 6 months or something, not that long but, I was miserable the whole time and I didn’t even realize it was because of him.” 

Eddie’s hand is tearing up a paper napkin between them and Steve tentatively settles his hand over Eddie’s, who stops destroying the napkin and smiles gratefully at Steve, holding his hand back.

“The worst part is I didn’t even break up with him, he broke up with me,” Eddie chuckles self-deprecatingly, “But he still wanted to keep me around I guess… And I… didn’t want to feel lonely” 

They both stay quiet for a moment after that, and Steve stares at their hands joined over the greasy dinner table and thinks about loneliness, about how he doesn't feel it right now, with Eddie.

“So, what happened?” he asks after a bit.

“I did eventually realize he was the one making me feel like shit so I stopped seeing him but he didn’t appreciate my new sense of self-respect,” Eddie says lightly and Steve instinctively squeezes his hand protectively, which makes Eddie smile again, “I’m doing just fine now though, I told him to fuck off and got a new job. And it’s actually pretty good, ya know?”

Steve can’t help but smile back at Eddie’s cute expression, “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, my own hours? Good money? Plus I’ve always liked driving around, it calms me. And I get to meet really interesting people…” he says, winking at Steve and making him chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad then. Proud of you for getting out of there,”

“Me too,” Eddie says and looks up as Benny walks over to them.

“Sorry to interrupt boys, but we are about to close for the night,” He says, stifling a yawn.

Steve looks surprised at his watch, it’s almost 2 A.M. He can’t believe he’s been sitting here with Eddie for hours when it only felt like a few minutes.

He offers to cover the bill but Benny fights him over it and says it’s his treat. And Eddie offers to take him home no charge. So they get in Eddie’s car again only this time Steve sits next to him instead of in the back and they talk about music on their way to his place while Steve changes the radio stations. Laughing, singing and joking around, it’s such a good time. It feels like they’ve been doing this forever, like they could do this…forever. But eventually they arrive at Steve’s building and suddenly Steve doesn’t want the night to end. 

He’s about to tell Eddie as much, maybe invite him inside, when his phone rings again, the ‘you deserve better’ staring at them. But Eddie immediately grabs his phone and hangs up, blocking the number after. 

“There, he can’t call me again,” he says with a sigh.

“Can I see your phone for a second?” Steve ventures, making a last second decision.

Eddie looks surprised but curious as he hands it over and Steve punches his phone in.

“If you ever feel like unblocking him, or calling him back… Why don’t you try calling me instead?” he says in a rush and then walks out of the car, not lingering to see Eddie’s reaction.

There’s always the positivity that he got things wrong again, got too invested too soon again and he doesn’t want to know tonight. He’ll deal with it later, if Eddie doesn't call.

🚗📱🍔💙

It takes only two days for Steve’s phone to ring, an unknown number flashing on his screen. He picks it up feeling a little out of breath for no reason at all.

“Hello?” 

“Steve?”

“Eddie, I”

“Wait- before you say anything I just want you to know that I didn’t call because I wanted to call him, or I was thinking about him. I called because I can’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to talk to you. Okay?”

“Eddie- yes! It’s more than okay, I- I was hoping you’d call”

fin 💙

☕🥐💕 coffee? oovoo javer?

[stormy333]

Day Four!

Welcome to Day Four!

Best childhood memory? This is the question of today. Oh dear this is going to be interesting! Let's get into it. 

Honestly I can't choose between these two specific memories so I am going to tell you both of them because both of them are hilarious and made such an impact on me, well one of them made more of an impact on my poor brother. Anyways we'll start with that one since I just gave a tiny spoiler.

Memory #1

Let's go back in time. It was a christmas morning I think I was like 3 or 4, you'll have to bear with me here it was over a decade ago. We always went to my grandma and grandpa's house on christmas after opening our gifts at the house. This particular memory is actually on video somewhere I just have to find it again but anyway. This year Our grandparents got me and my brother power wheels. I got a princess car with Ariel, Cinderella and Aurora aka Sleeping Beauty decaled on it and my brother got a dirt bike. Totally amazing but oh my gosh I was honestly a really evil sister okay? My brother is four years older than me and ya know I'm glad that now we're older the past is the past but honestly this story will probably be a warning from him to his kids about me and my kids. 

So anyway we were all excited about these and grandma and grandpa had this nice big yard with one of those old well pumps in the middle of it. Gosh, this place was the dream and the best part was that my Grandparents, mom and aunts, and uncles rebuilt it when they first moved in? I think if I remember correctly. So anyways I loved the house and the yard it was dreamy. But thats not the memory we're going for here. Back to the story. 

After we got our power wheels we took them for a spin. Do you guys see where this might be going? Well if not then trust me um this gets... interesting? 

So we're both driving along having fun and everyone's watching us. Somewhere along there I got an evil idea. And this is on film! My brother and I were about to cross paths, I could have swerved to avoid him. He was coming from one side of the well and I was coming from the other. When I saw him coming I floored that little princess car and t-boned my poor brother! and then that's not even the worst part I kept going! My mom, grandma, and aunt all trying to get me to stop and all the guys my dad, my grandpa, and uncles all laughing because what kind of little girl does a hit and run and laughs about it? 

All I have to say is thank God I'm a better driver now than I was as a kid.

Memory #2

This memory takes place when I was a bit older than the christmas one, I don't actually remember a lot of details from this one but I remember enough of it to share it.

Okay so heres the deal before we took over the church that my dad pastored there was another pastor and family (Obviously) but I grew up in that specific church so I was best friends with the pastors youngest daughter because she was closest to my age. This happened at their lake house when I was having a sleepover with my friend. So onto the memory. 

I'm low key scared of small boats. What does that have to do with anything? Well heres the deal my friends brother, she was the youngest of three, the brother was the oldest. Well the brother took me and my friend out on the lake. Now I don't remember what inspired this little adventure onto the lake but I do very clearly remember us getting stuck in the middle of the lake with no paddles because of something happening to the motor? And I don't remember exactly but he was either telling us horror stories or shaking the boat or honestly maybe both? But I know by the time we got back home I was terrified, I don't know how we got back or if my friend was as scared as me but to this day I still can't get on a small boat. One thing's for sure though this story will be passed down to my kids just because looking back on it it's truly a great a memory.

I hope you all enjoyed the post, comment below your favorite memory if you want :)

Until next time Loves💙

[angryschnauzer]

Once Bitten

Once Bitten

Summary: Whilst vacationing on a Colorado Ranch to try and overcome your writers block, you find yourself being drawn to the cowboys that staff the ranch rather than getting any actual work done. After a small accident in the truck you find yourself a lot closer to one cowboy in particular, who has a secret you are about to discover.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3204

Tags: Chris Evans (Actor) & Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/You, AU Vampire Chris NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, neck biting, Vampires, Oral Sex, Cum Play

Notes: This is a rewrite of a old Hiddleston fic, but i felt it fit with Chris too. The original was written 5+ years ago so may not be my finest work.

I do not operate a tag list or masterlist. All my previous stories can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites​, to get an alert whenever i post a new story, follow that blog and put it onto notifications. You can also find all my work on AO3.

You bounced in the seat of the truck as it made its way along the dirt track back to the lodge, a cloud of dust spewing from beneath the wheels. Clinging to the steering wheel, your knuckles white, you wished you’d taken the bigger, newer truck, the one with power steering. And a heater. And Seatbelts. But no, you had taken the smaller older one instead as it was easier to park.

Your cousin’s Colorado ranch had always been a refuge for you, so when you were suffering from writers block you’d asked if you could rent their lodge for a few weeks, hoping the quiet solitude of the Colorado landscape would inspire you. Little did you know that the only things around that would inspire, would be tumbleweeds and cowboys. And as a crime writer being inspired by watching lithe and toned men riding horses all day was not helping, in fact you were soon to end up in the romance isle of the bookstores, especially watching their taught and muscled thighs as they clung to the horses, sweat dripping down their bodies, hats tipped to the low autumn sunsets;

“HOLY CRAP!”

You were suddenly drawn out of your daydream as the one and only bend in the track had snuck up on you as you, slamming on the brakes but it was too late, the tyres skid on the loose earth, and you ploughed into the ditch, coming to an abrupt stop, albeit at a 45º angle.

Coughing as the cloud of dust settled, you groaned as a pain shot through your head, pulling yourself up to the driver’s seat you glanced into the rear-view mirror. A slight cut on your forehead, you touched it lightly and winced, there was going to be one hell of a lump there in the morning. Testing your limbs and you were relieved that they all worked fine.

“Darlin’, y’alright?”

The sudden voice at the side of the truck startled you, making you squeal and let go of the steering wheel, causing you slide over the bench seat to the far side of the truck. It was Chris; one of the ranch hands, in fact the one in particular you’d been trying to keep out of your mind.

“Miss?” He enquired

Snapping out of your trance you finally squeaked out an answer;

“Chris, thank you...yes I’m fine.”

“Here, lemme’ give ya’ hand.” he said, wrenching the door open and reaching into the truck as you extended your hand, and he was pulling you out of the truck and onto the side of the road. You swayed slightly, a sudden rush of blood to your head.

He steadied you, watching you sway slightly before you settled;

“You’re bleeding...” he said, his nostrils slightly flaring, those intense eyes staring at the wound on your head.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a plaid handkerchief, gently pressing it to your head wound. His tongue lightly reached out and touched his top lip with concentration as you felt his light touch, his fingers cold against your heated skin.

“Do you need a ride Miss?”

Hell yes you thought, but you realised the ride that you had in mind was probably not what he meant.

“That would be very kind of you, thank you” you replied as you managed to pull your mind from the gutter you said with a smile, hoping you weren’t stumbling on your words too much.

“Great!” He said with a smile that sent shivers down your spine; “I’ll just untie Vincent...”

“Vincent?”

“My horse.”

You paled a little. In the weeks you’d spent on the farm you’d so far managed to avoid actually riding a horse, they didn’t like you, you didn’t like them, even after a lot of trying on your part with you offering them carrots and sugar cubes over the fences, trying to stroke their noses and generally be nice to them, you’d been nibbled, snorted at, and most of the time they just ran off leaving you coughing and spluttering from the dust they stirred up.

You watched as Chris strode over to the fence where he’d tied Vincent and busied himself unhooking the reins, turning to you as if presenting his steed to you. Reluctantly you walked over, not entirely sure how to even get onto this damned beast.

“Just put your foot into the stirrup and pull yourself up.” He said as he held the animal still.

Right. Well. Ok. You might as well try, knowing you were more than likely going to make an utter fool of yourself. Foot into stirrup and gripping onto the saddle, you heaved yourself up. Imagine a toddler trying to climb over a beach ball but getting stuck halfway; butt in the air, you’d neglected to swing your free leg over the horses back and as you now tried to lift your knee the horse to start shifting. This wasn’t going well, and you were just thankful that Chris couldn’t see your face that had no doubt turned a rather comical look of indignant frustration on it right then.

“Here let me help.” As he rested his hand on your free leg “Lift your knee and part your legs, you need to swing it over to get into the riding position.”

Well duh, your mind was now not on the kind of riding you were currently attempting, but as you felt Chris’s strong hand lift your knee over the saddle you were suddenly upright and sat on the horse. You wobbled a little where your feet had fallen out of the stirrups, but your mind was soon elsewhere as Chris lifted himself skilfully onto the saddle behind you, settling in, his crotch pressing against your butt.

You chanted a little mantra in your mind to keep your thoughts of arousal at bay as he arranged the reins and you set off, the weight of his body pressing you forward in the saddle, pressing your crotch against the little uppy-holdy-thingy at the front of the saddle that you presumed was a form of a handle for when only one person was using the saddle.

Soon you were on your way, Chris clicking his tongue and the horse slowly turned towards the ranch. The gentle rock and sway of the horse as it plodded its way along the track soon had you a little worked up, not to mention the hardness you were starting to feel press into the back of your jeans. In an attempt to distract yourself you started chattering away, attempting to make small talk whilst trying to disguise the fact you were a little breathless from the gentle pressure that was tormenting you, turning you on. You were thankful for the darkness that was descending around you as you were sure when you did get off this damned animal the front of your jeans would be soaked through. Chris was more of a listener than a talker, very few words of his being part of your conversation, yet as you felt his breath on your neck, your voice faltered and you spent the rest of the journey in silence, until your cabin appeared over the hill, the last rays of the sunset making the windows seem ablaze.

As you rode past the windows, you saw your reflection in them, you riding the horse. You. On a horse. Just you. Wait, what? Before your mind could process the sight Chris pulled on the reins and Vincent came to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps, letting out a little snort as it did so;

“Let me get off first then I’ll give you a hand down.”

Chris skilfully hopped off the horse, making it seem so graceful. Now it was your turn; swinging your far leg over the saddle you got halfway there but your foot got caught in something. Giving it a little shake it caused your body to overbalance, and you watched almost in slow motion as you practically oozed off the horse into an upside down heap, your foot still caught, your shoulders on the ground and your foot suspended above you.

You heard Chris suppress a snigger; “Not a natural rider are ya’?” as he reached over and unhooked whatever had caught your foot, causing you to fall to the ground with a grunt. He quickly hooked the reins over the porch and extended a hand to you, pulling you to your feet. You swayed a little, falling against his chest. Oh the scent – spice and musk – you could have buried your face into that plaid shirt and just inhaled, but perhaps not, perhaps that’d be just slightly inappropriate, you reasoned with yourself.

Pulling yourself right again you were still slightly unsteady on your feet, you felt Chris’s arm around your hip as he helped you up the porch steps and reached for the door, pushing the pair of you inside. You turned to thank him but he was suddenly upon you, his long arms around yours, pinning them to your sides, there was a sharpness to his movements as he spun you around so your back was against his chest. He tilted your head to one side and you realised it was not passion that was driving him. You felt his lips on your neck then the sharpness of teeth. Very sharp teeth. You screamed as you felt them pierce your skin, struggling in his arms as you felt a burning on your neck, the teeth sinking deeper. You could hear the suckling noises as he drank from you, his lips firmly against your neck, his tongue massaging the spot below where his teeth had breached your skin. You started to slump in his arms, realisation that you’d fallen into the arms of a monster. But as your body relaxed, you started to feel the desire within you build again. The feel of his lips and tongue on your neck was now dulling the pain his teeth had caused. You relaxed in his arms and found your feet, pressing back against his chest, not realising your desire until you groaned as his lips moved against your neck.

You reached back, your arms grasping onto the sides of his jeans, pulling him against you. You could feel that he was hard, and very big from the feel of it. His grip around your torso loosened, and one hand moved up to where your shirt was buttoned, ripping down in one swift motion, buttons springing apart as they flew off. His hand splayed over the soft flesh of your stomach, running up to your bra, and slipping inside to grasp on your breasts. Never releasing his lips hold on your neck, but you could no longer feel his teeth within you, only the soft suckling of his tongue.

He released his grip on you but rather than running you simply span around in his arms and pulled him down so his lips met yours. You could taste a metallic tang on his lips and tongue and realised it was your blood. Rather than disgusting you it turned you on even more.

You ran your hands to his chest, fumbling with the buttons as you rid him of his shirt, running your hands over the soft jersey of his tee before pulling that up so you could touch his toned chest, down his stomach to where a small trail of hair led to further delights below.

Never breaking contact with his lips you blindly worked on his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and working your hand inside, feeling his hard dick loose within the denim. Not releasing him your other hand lowered his fly, allowing you further access and his firm hardness heavy in your hand.

Breaking away from the kiss you grinned up at him, his gaze boring deep into you, a slight look of shock on his face.

“You’re not running. Ya’ not scared?”

You didn’t answer, instead you started to drop to your knees, keeping hold of his dick as you ran your other hand down his thigh, your fingers softly running over the firm muscles, gently tickling the hairs that covered his skin. On your knees you looked up at him, licking your lips before pressing them forwards and placing a gentle kiss on the tip. Running your tongue over the slit, tasting the salty liquid that had pooled there.

Never breaking eye contact you opened your mouth and took his hard shaft between your lips. You slid your tongue along the seam underneath, bobbing your head slowly up and down. As you watched Chris’s face you could see his fangs descending again, his eyes becoming hooded until his head tipped back. Taking him deeper you felt his tip against the back of your throat, inciting a groan from above you.

Pulling back off you lightly grazed your teeth against his dick, catching around the head and gently over the crown. Well, if he was going to violate you with his teeth it’s the least you could do as payback. However he seemed to enjoy it, as his hands flew to your head and you heard him mutter;

“Oh god Darlin’, do that again.”

Happy to oblige you repeated your actions, running your teeth over him, lightly all the time and then down his length, taking him deep again. On the third pass you heard a hiss escape from his lips; “Enough”, before he roughly pulled you to your feet, and crushing you against his chest for a rough kiss.

He toed off his boots and stepped out of his fallen jeans, walking you backwards over to the couch, spinning you around so the front of your thighs were against the upholstery. Bringing his hands up to your breasts, he grasped the front of your bra, tearing it in two, before roughly pawing at them, your nipples rubbing against his calloused palms.

You felt his lips against your ear; “You’re hot for me... so desperate and eager. I like it.”

His hands lowered to your jeans, releasing your fly and pushing the material away, before rubbing his hand between your thighs, feeling how wet your panties were, pushing at your folds through the cotton, as he rutted into the crease of your butt; “So wet for me... does fear turn you on?”

“I’m not afraid.”

He chuckled into your ear; “You should be...”

He ripped the material in two, letting the remains of your panties fall to the floor before pushing you over the arm of the couch, leaving you prone and your thighs wide.

Steadying yourself on the cushions you glanced over your shoulder, admiring Chris’s near naked body, his dick in his hand as he came up behind you. He paused for a moment as he pulled his crumpled tee over his head before steadying himself with a hand on your rump and you felt his tip against your swollen pussy. As he slowly ran the tip up and down your folds, soaking it with your juices, you moaned, wriggling your hips, needing to be filled.

“Getting desperate for me?” Chris said with a heavy voice

“Just fuck me, now!” you practically screamed at him.

“Your wish is my command.” and before you could brace yourself he’d pressed into you, sinking deep on the first thrust. He seemed to go on forever, inch after inch slid into you, only for it all to be suddenly withdrawn and thrust back in one making you squeal;

“Yes! Oh God!”

“You couldn’t get farther from God if you tried.” and with that he set off at a punishing pace, fucking you hard, bent over and prone to him, his big hands gripping tightly – painfully – onto your hips as he used your body.

You’d never been fucked so hard or so well, you were writhing on the sofa in ecstasy, the man, no; the monster behind you never relenting on his actions on your body, making your juices flow down your thighs, his large hands spreading your legs wider so that his thick girth could gain further entry. You felt one of his hands flutter over your rump.

The suddenness of his palm making contact with your behind made you squeal, your breath catching in your throat as you anticipated another, not to be disappointed when his palm made contact with your other buttock moments later.

Something you hadn’t liked to admit to any of your ex’s is that done right you were quite happy with a bit of spanking, but those that had attempted it had always done it half-heartedly.

“Oh fuck, Chris... please... don’t stop.”

Never letting up on his pace of fucking your pussy he started to spank you in time to his thrusts, and as you felt your orgasm building, you gripped tightly onto the cushions of the couch;

“Yes yes yes yes yes, more, harder!” All spluttering from your mouth, begging and pleading, getting closer and closer, until your body succumbed to the pleasure, gripping onto him as you rode out your orgasm, writhing beneath his touch, rocking your body, the waves of ecstasy flowing over you as it overwhelmed your mind.

Chris smoothed his palms over your reddened cheeks before going back to gripping your thighs, his thrusts getting harder and faster as he now drove into your pleasure soaked body.

Suddenly he pulled out and grasped your shoulder, pulling you round and down to your knees. As he towered over you, his voice low and deep;

“Open your mouth” you did as he asked, on your knees in front of him, he furiously stroked his dick, you reached for your tits and played with them;

“Such a good girl” he praised as his body went rigid and he started to cum,  watching as ropes of it sprayed over your face and chest, dripping down between your tits. One last spurt, and he brought his dick up to your lips where you gently took him in, tasting your combined pleasure on it, gently giving it a single suck before releasing him.

He staggered back and found the breakfast bar, resting against a barstool. Both of you out of breath, a hungry silence hung in the air, only broken by the sounds of your breathing as you still gasped for air.

You were the first to break the silence; “How come I didn’t need to invite you in?”

“It’s not your home. I can come and go as a please as long as it’s not the persons main residence.” Chris replied.

“You’re really a vampire?”

“Do you need more proof?”

“Are you going to turn into a bat or something?”

He sighed; “Why would I want to turn myself into a bat?” a small smirk appeared on his lips;

“Anyway I suggest you get up off your knees Darlin’, I’m not done with you for the night yet”. He said with a very dirty grin now spreading over his face.

No longer afraid you got to your feet;

“I’ll be ready for you in the shower”

You made your way to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you swayed your hips;

“You coming?”

“Yup, and so will you be Darlin’”

[lawluaficionado]

No Devil Fruit AU, where Law is part of a dangerous syndicate. He's feared by almost everyone. Except his fiance, Luffy. Not many have seen this mysterious boyfriend of the all powerful crime boss, Law, but those who have know that it's Luffy who should be feared.

Little snippet for inspiration! Might be a lil gross, so don't read if you're squeamish.

It had been a tedious night. Law pours himself another glass of bourbon as Penguin recounts the screams their ex-colleagues let out.

"Man! Next time I want to go in too!" Shachi laments.

Law sighs, "If Bepo had stayed home then you could've. But I asked you to watch him. You know how his fur gets nasty in humid areas."

Bepo, Law's five year old Great Pyrenees, whines at their feet.

"But you sure did miss a lot! Boss renoved their hearts one by one. I think the last one died before he even started from all the shock," Penguin is giddy in his seat.

"Make sure to send those out tomorrow," Law reminds him.

"Yes boss!" they both answer. The bag containing the hearts are in the passenger seat next to his driver.

"Almost home. Are we getting the young sir his order of food?" Jean Bart, ever the lifesaver, asks.

His sweetheart would love that, but he's not getting shit if he's acting this way.

His mood worsening by the minute. He's called Luffy five times already and the teen hasn't answered. Did he forget an anniversary? Birthday? No way. If anything it would be his beloved who would forget something, so why are his calls being ignored.

In the end he gives in, "Yes. Just go ahead and get him the usual."

"And mine!" Penguin states.

"Me too!" Shachi cheers.

Jean Bart grunts, "You can both get off and get your own shit."

Soon, his phone is ringing. Not his personal phone. His work phone.

"Speak," Law grumbles. Seriously, they just parted ways not too long ago. What in the world could've been so important that they needed to call him.

"Boss! Oh thank god I reached you, we just got to the house and the gates are run over!" Ikkaku gives him a brief statement of the mess his mansion is in.

Law calms down, 'Ahhh, no wonder his baby didn't answer him. He's having fun too,' he smiles to himself.

"-and we're pretty sure mister Luffy is still inside! It's Bellamy's gang and himself here! So far we've taken care of the stragglers outside. What do you want us to do?"

Law smirks, "Lock up any escape there is."

"This is Bellamy sir, are you sure you want that?" Ikkaku sounds worried.

"Lock it up, make sure whoever is inside the mansion STAYS inside with my sweetheart. We'll still be a while, I know Luffy will be starving." Law hangs up the phone and relaxes.

He should've known Luffy had a reason not to answer him. Of course he should think about getting him an extra portion...he's going to be so so hungry.

When Law's car finally gets to the mansion, Jean Bart opens up his door. Bepo is the first to run out. Next is Law in his midnight blue suit ruined with dark red splotches from earlier activities.

Jean Bart closes the door in Shachi's face. They can open it themselves, he smiles as he turns back to the task at hand which meant carefully taking the bag of once beating hearts.

His subordinates are all gathered in the driveway, a few bodies next to them. It's a good thing he's in the good graces of his neighbors. No one here is going to mention any of this to those pesky cops. Lest they also want to be removed.

"Alright, listen up I want this place spotless by the next morning. Someone call up Franky to get me a new gate."

Penguin and Shachi both carry those take out boxes from the car, almost dropping them when they hear a blood curling scream from the direction of the house. They both grin.

"Why, I almost feel bad for those poor motherfuckers," Penguin continues to snicker.

Bepo immediately runs to the doors, growling to be let in. Law calmly walks behind him.

Ikkaku comes with them too, "We did as you asked boss. A few of the gang members were thrown out of windows on the third floor. It's been cleaned up out here."

"Good, I want to see the mess my beloved has made," chuckles Law.

Ikkaku unlocks the main house entrance and removes the blockage.

Upon entering the mansion, he can feel the tell-tell sign of an incoming headache. There's blood smeared on those once pristine pearl white walls, broken glass, broken furniture, and a few people groaning in pain. All from what he can assume are Bellamy's men.

A snap of his fingers and Shachi has already put a bullet in their heads. Not as quick as he would usually, seeing as he had precious food in his other hand.

"Get someone to start cleaning here. After dinner of course." Law walks up the stairs then, only Bepo leading the way. Everyone else went to start eating. They've dined in worse places, they'll be fine.

The stairs are no better than the entrance to the house. There's blood on the rails, ripped hair strands, and broken glass. He swears he saw a finger on one of the steps. Thank heavens Bepo didn't eat it.

Another pained scream is heard and then the crackling sound stops everything altogether.

Law enters his bedroom to find a sniffling Luffy. Their room in complete chaos. One of the posts to their bed is completely cracked. The TV is in ruins and the mini fridge is making a concerning sound.

"Come here baby, what's wrong?" he worries something must've gone terribly wrong. Luffy hardly cries over something like a fight. Especially one where he just singlehandedly slaughtered more than a fifty people, including their leader.

Covered in blood, Luffy walks toward Law, holding something carefully in his arms.

"He broke it," he sniffles. "Please don't be mad."

In his hands is the first picture they took on their first anniversary. Of course it was only the frame that was shattered.

"Lu-ya, it's alright. I'll get another for our room," he gently cradles the teen's face in his hands.

Luffy smiles, practically beaming, "OKAY! Did you get dinner! I'm starving Torao!!" Just like that he's back to his normal state. He's skipping around, joyful and playful as ever.

"You know I did, couldn't leave my sunshine without his favorite take out," he brushes hair out of Luffy's face ojce he's gotten him to stop his movements. But he's still covered in blood, that's more than likely not his.

"Did you see how many I took out!? I took care of the house too!" Luffy laughs, so carelessly, innocent eyes looking up at his fiance.

"Lu-ya, all I ask is that next time you make sure you move the fight out of our bedroom," he stares at Bellamy on his bedroom floor. Bepo still growling at the dead man.

"I couldn't help it! It was a surprise attack!" he pouts.

And everyone knows that the big, bad boss can't resist a cute face. It's only a matter of time before his other enemies realize that too. But for their sake, they should also realize that Luffy isn't just a cute face for Law. No. Luffy is just as terrifying, if not more, than his psychopath boyfriend. What can you do though? I guess their enemies will just have to find out the hard way.

[expectingtofly]

Sign Here

AU-Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Dean is a UPS Driver, Cas and Dean are idiots, Gabe is trying to help

4k (oops this fic got long)

also posted on ao3

written for Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 2k Followers Celebration <3 <3

Castiel knelt on the grass to pull up some stubborn weeds in the garden lining the front of his newly-bought house. The previous inhabitants had left behind a tangled mess of rose bushes and weeds, and after a week of unpacking boxes, he was happy to finally have time to spend outside. One of the perks of moving from an apartment to a small bungalow—finally space for a garden. Although, he was sure the inside of his house would soon become just as packed with plants as his apartment had been.

Engrossed as he was in weeding and planning what flowers he would plant to expand the garden, he didn’t hear someone approach until a shadow fell over the dirt. 

Startling, he looked up to see a man standing on the walkway next to him. “What—oh.” By the man’s clothes—brown collared shirt and shorts—and the package he was holding, Castiel realized he was a UPS delivery driver. “Hello.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the driver said, fighting back a smile.

Castiel stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “It’s alright.” 

The man held out a package. “I was gonna deliver this to your front door, unless you want to take it now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Taking it, Castiel looked down at the label, trying to remember what he had ordered. Something for his kitchen, probably.

“Did you just move in?” the UPS driver asked. His eyes were very green, a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Freckles everywhere, Castiel realized, seeing the way they lightly spotted his bare arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Realizing he was staring, Castiel reddened, glanced down at the package in his hands. “Uh, yes, I did. Last week.”

“Welcome to Bloomfield, then.” He nodded at the rose bushes. “Nice garden you got here.”

“You don’t have to lie, it’s a mess.” The driver laughed and Castiel smiled a little. “It’s not much now. Hopefully I’ll be able to fix it up soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, see how things develop.” The man took a step back and gestured to the UPS truck on the street. “I’ve got other packages to deliver. Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Castiel said, watching him leave. Kneeling down to continue yanking out the prickly weeds, he smiled. It was nice to meet someone friendly; he hadn’t gotten to meet many people yet with the chaos of moving in. Of course, he thought, glancing back at the UPS truck as it rumbled down the street, it didn’t hurt that the driver was extremely attractive as well. 

***

The next week, Castiel was hanging up art prints in his living room when he heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was for a package he’d ordered, he took his time getting to the door, straightening the print on the wall before weaving through the cardboard boxes he still hadn’t unpacked. 

When he opened the front door, however, he was surprised to see the green-eyed UPS driver standing on his porch holding the package.

The man’s face brightened. “Hi. Got a delivery for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, opening the door wider. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I thought you delivery drivers just dropped off the package and disappeared.”

The UPS driver laughed. Such a nice laugh, Castiel thought. “Right, yeah, that’s what we normally do. But, uh, we have a new policy. Have to get a signature for packages.” He handed over a clipboard and pen, pointing to the line at the bottom of the page. "Just sign here."

“Oh. Alright.” Castiel took the clipboard and signed his name. When he handed it back, he saw the man glance at the signature. “Castiel,” he supplied.

“Cool name. I’m Dean.” 

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Having been occupied all week with moving in and subsequently starved for conversation, he added, “You’re one of the first people I’ve met so far. The other being a cashier at that grocery store down the street.”

“Still getting settled in?”

“Yes. It’s taking much longer than I anticipated. I hate unpacking. It never seems to end.”

“Yeah, moving’s a bitch. You liking the place so far, though?”

Castiel nodded. “I do. Much improved from the apartment where I was living before.”

“God, I bet. I share an apartment with my brother—don’t get me wrong, I like living with him, but our landlord’s an asshole.” He gestured to the right. “Garden’s looking great.”

“Thank you. I just bought petunias, but I haven’t had a chance to plant them.” He pointed at the small brown box Dean was still holding. “That should be new gardening gloves in there.”

“Oh, right, your package.” Dean’s face looked a little red as he handed the box over. “Um, well, I should be on my way. See ya.” He stepped off the porch with a wave and Castiel waved back before going inside. 

As he unpacked his belongings, he realized filling a house was harder than he’d thought. There were so many household items he was missing. Perhaps a trip to the store would be faster, but ordering online was easier—or so he told himself as he opened his laptop.  

I’m only trying to save myself time, he reasoned, though inwardly he might have been hoping Dean would deliver the package. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he found himself growing more impatient over the next few days. Then, one afternoon as he organized his silverware drawer, he heard the doorbell ring. He practically ran to the front door, then paused and steadied himself before opening it, waiting a few seconds so it wouldn’t seem like he’d rushed over.  

It might not even be Dean, he chastised himself as he unlocked the door. 

Dean smiled at him when he swung the door wide.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, trying to sound casual and hide his smile.

“Hi.” He looked to be about Castiel’s age. What were the chances that someone this attractive was single? “Got another package. A heavy one this time.” 

Pushing away those thoughts, Castiel took it from him and placed it inside on the floor. “Thank you. Don’t I have to sign something?”

“Uh, shit, yeah.” Dean handed over the clipboard and pen, and as Castiel signed, he nodded at the package. “Something else for the garden?”

Castiel shook his head, handing back the clipboard. “A mixer. I thought maybe I could try my hand at baking. My mom sent me a few of her recipes.”

Dean’s eyes brightened. “You ever want inspiration, there’s a diner, other side of town, a few blocks from where I live, that makes the best pie. Makes them fresh every morning.”

“I’ll have to go sometime.” He stopped short of saying that maybe he’d see Dean there, not wanting to sound too excited at the prospect.

Maybe I should order more things for the kitchen, he thought, shutting the door after saying goodbye to Dean. Or a new bath mat, and curtains, maybe. The boxes he had yet to unpack scolded him by their presence, but he ignored them. If receiving new items meant talking to a friendly face, who could blame him? 

***

“You sure get a lot of packages,” Dean remarked the next week when Castiel opened the door. 

Castiel reddened. “Turns out it’s hard to fill a whole house.” 

“I’m not complaining, you’re the one giving me a job to do.” Dean handed over the package. “What’s it this week?”

“A watering can.”

“You really like to garden, don’t you?” Dean gestured to the flowers and plants lining the front of the house. “I mean, you’ve added a lot since moving in.”

“Yes, well, I find it’s a wonderful way to wind down after work.”

Dean nodded. “I get that. Any spare time I have, I work on my car.”

Castiel glanced at the UPS truck, because he hadn’t really considered Dean driving anything else. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of running into Dean somewhere else, at the diner, at the grocery store. He wondered how Dean dressed when he wasn’t in his uniform, what else he did in his free time.

Dean followed his gaze to the street and gestured to the UPS truck. “This thing, it’s crap. No AC, no radio. What do you drive?” He glanced at Castiel’s driveway. “That a Lincoln Continental? 78? 77?”

Castiel caught the derisive tone in his voice. “78. And I like it,” he added defensively.

Dean smiled, raising his hands. “Eye of the beholder, I guess. You ever need work done on it, let me know, I can help.” His eyes widened a little at his own words. “I mean, you don’t need to, I just meant, if you want. I’m good at that stuff.”

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the offer.” Inwardly, he cursed his car for being so reliable. Maybe the engine light would turn on and he could take him up on his offer. Or maybe Dean was only being friendly and didn’t really mean it. 

When Dean headed back to his truck and Castiel shut the door, he realized Dean hadn’t asked him to sign anything. Maybe he’d only forgotten. 

***

“Gotten acquainted with the locals?” Gabriel asked a few nights later when he called to see how Castiel was settling in.

“I talked with one of my neighbors yesterday. Arla. She’s eighty-two and owns three cats.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Castiel glanced at the mixer. “And, uh, I did meet someone else. Someone my age, not a neighbor. Dean.”

“Met someone? Like went on a date with—”

“No, he works for the UPS, he’s been delivering my packages.” He was interrupted by Gabriel laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“So instead of going out and meeting real people, you’re making friends with the delivery guy.”

“Dean is real,” Castiel protested. “He’s very kind and friendly. And helpful. He’s told me about places to check out in town and complimented my garden—”

“Damn, Cas, sounds like you really like this guy.”

“No, he’s just a nice person,” Castiel insisted. By Gabriel’s laughter, he knew he wasn’t being believable. “Alright, fine. I enjoy talking to him.” He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that seeing Dean was becoming his favorite part of the week.

“He single?”

“Um. Yes.” He may or may not have asked Arla if she knew Dean, and may or may not have learned that she couldn’t believe “a charming young man like him is still single.” Oh, and that if she were a younger woman, she would be ordering packages left and right to flirt with him when he delivered. Castiel did not appreciate that last part, even if Arla had no idea how close to the truth she’d struck. I’m not flirting, he argued inwardly.

“Well, are you going to make a move or not?” When Castiel didn’t respond right away, Gabriel added, “Right, I forgot who I’m talking to.”

“I might,” Castiel protested. “But we only just met. And I don’t even know if he likes me. He’s only doing his job.”

“May as well ask him out, see what he says.” 

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to rush into anything. I only just moved here.”

“Well, you snooze, you lose, Cas. Don’t miss out on something just because you��re scared.”

“I’m not scared!”

I’m not scared, he repeated to himself when he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He was being reasonable. But maybe Gabriel was right. Dean had to be somewhat interested—delivery guys didn’t just stick around to talk after delivering a package. Maybe he’d test the waters, try to see if Dean was truly interested or just being friendly.

***

A few days later, he was watering his petunias when Dean got out of his truck with another package.

“Hey, Cas!” he called. 

“Hello, Dean.” Setting down his water can, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Thank you,” he said, taking the narrow box from Dean. Before he lost his courage, he spoke up, “I, um, made a pie this morning.” Whether he’d made it specifically to offer to Dean was something he’d never admit to anyone, much less himself. “I was wondering if you wanted a slice? You can tell me if it’s good or not.”

Dean broke into a grin. “Shit, Cas, really? Yeah, thanks.”

“Wait here, I’ll grab it.”

When he returned to the doorway with a paper plate covered in foil, he caught Dean looking inside his house. 

“It’s still a mess in here,” Castiel said, handing the plate over. “I’ve been kinda busy with work.”

“No, yeah, totally, no judgement.” He peeled back the foil and inhaled. “Fuck, I’m starving. This looks amazing.” Picking up the slice, he took a bite. “Mmm,” he said, rolling his eyes back. 

“Good?” Castiel asked, amused. 

“So good,” Dean said, his voice muffled. He swallowed. “You’re a natural.” 

“Thank you. I have more, if you’d like it.”

“Don’t tempt me. Yes.” 

Grinning, Castiel went back inside and packaged up two more slices, brought them to Dean.

“You’re an angel,” Dean said. “Seriously.” He juggled the plates in his hands. “So, where do you work?”

Castiel leaned on the doorway. “I work here. I’m an editor. I do freelance work.”

“Dude, that’s cool. Nice that you get to work from home.” Looking down at his watch, he swore quietly. “Sorry, I need to keep moving. I’ve got a lot of deliveries today.” 

“Oh,” Castiel said, disappointed, straightening. “Alright. Sorry for keeping you so long.”

“No problem, this was a nice break.” He stepped off the walkway. “Thanks for the pie.”

“You’re welcome.” Ask him for his number. Ask him if he would like to go out. But he kept quiet and watched Dean cross the yard back to his truck. 

***

That night, Castiel ordered a set of bookends shaped like trees. He checked his email the next few days, tracking the package. On the day it was to be delivered, he had to run errands and got stuck in traffic. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw a package sitting on the front porch. Shit. He’d missed Dean. 

Grabbing his bag of groceries, he walked over and picked up the package with his free hand. Then he noticed a note taped to the top. 

Sorry I missed you, it read. The pie was incredible.

Castiel smiled. 

***

Sunlight streamed through his living room windows as Castiel organized his books on his bookshelves. He was just pushing his new bookends into place when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he went to the front door and looked out through the window. Dean?

“Hello, Dean,” he said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting a package today.” 

“Oh, really?” Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile as he turned around the cardboard box in his hands. Bold black letters were written across the front: SAY HI TO DEAN FOR ME.

Castiel’s eyes widened and he snatched the box out of Dean’s hands. “What? I don’t know how—” He scanned the box for the label. Gabriel, he realized. “It’s my brother,” he explained. “I was telling him about you, he must’ve sent me this to embarrass me, I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s smile won out. “No, it’s fine, that’s kinda hilarious.” He shifted his stance, the wooden porch boards creaking. “You, uh, you told him about me?”

Castiel’s head snapped up from glaring at Gabe’s name on the return label. “Um, yes,” he faltered. “Well, I was just telling him that I met someone, and it’s been nice to, uh, uh, have a friend.” 

Friend? He hardly knew Dean, for fuck’s sake. For all he knew, he was just a random person Dean spoke to occasionally on his route, no more important than Arla or any of the other people he delivered to.

But Dean smiled. “Yeah, uh, me too. I mean, I like meeting people on my route, just makes the day a lot better when I get to stop and talk.” He reddened a little and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his boots.

“I hope I don’t keep you from your other deliveries,” Castiel said.

Dean waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I get the other ones done fast so I can spend more time here.” He cut himself off and reddened even further, as if realizing what he was admitting. 

So, Dean was deliberately trying to see him, talk to him. Castiel felt his face heat up as well. “I’m sure delivering packages all day can be very boring,” he offered. 

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, ya know, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Besides, I’m just trying to make sure this neighborhood’s newest resident is doing okay.” He grinned. “Think of me as the welcome committee.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Really.”

Dean nodded again, and they stood there awkwardly for a few long moments. Castiel glanced back down at the box, Gabe’s words ringing in his head. Ask him out, see what he says.

“I’ll get on my way,” Dean said, stepping back. He smiled a little. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

“I will.” Maybe he should just blurt it out. Dean had said he enjoyed stopping by here. But maybe he only meant that in a friendly way. Castiel had called him a friend, after all. He chickened out. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” Dean walked away and Castiel glared down at the box. 

“Not helpful,” he told it.

***

“Gabe, I hate you.”

“What? I was just trying to spark conversation between you two—”

“I hate you. I can hold a conversation well enough myself, thank you very much. You only made things awkward.” He paused before adding, “Dean says hi, by the way.”

Gabriel cheered and Castiel pulled his phone away from his ear. “So it worked? You asked him out?”

“Um...” Castiel pulled at a rip on his gardening jeans. “No.”

“Cassie!” Gabriel whined. “I did all that work for nothing? What’s the holdup? Ask him out.”

Castiel groaned. “I will. Eventually. But, I mean, can he even say yes? He’s on the job—”

“Cas, he’s already taking time out of his workday to talk to you. Pretty sure he’ll say yes, even if he’s working. Stop making excuses.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him.” He only said it to get Gabriel off his back, but his palms grew sweaty even thinking about it. 

“You better. Keep me updated.”

“Only if you never pull a prank like that again.”

“I can’t promise anything.” 

***

Seated at his desk, Castiel frowned at an awkwardly worded sentence that refused to form itself into any coherency. Was the past tense of lie lay or laid? Why couldn’t he ever remember? 

The doorbell ringing drew his attention and, grateful for the break, he saved the document he was editing and got up. Going to the front door, he wondered if he had any left-over pie to give Dean and drag out their time together in the doorway.

Opening the door, he began to say hello, then paused. A UPS delivery man was walking away to his truck, a package at Castiel’s feet on his front porch. 

“Wait!” Castiel called, stepping outside. The man turned—not Dean. Someone he’d never seen before. “Who the hell are you?”

The man looked startled. “I, uh, I’m a delivery—”

“No, sorry.” Castiel flushed. “Where’s Dean?”

“Dean?” The man frowned. “I don’t know who that is. We all got new routes a few days ago. He must be on another route now.”

Castiel’s heart sank. “Oh.” Another route? He looked down at the package. “Don’t I have to sign something?”

“No, you’re all good. We don’t require signatures.” The man continued to his truck and Castiel picked up the package. A lattice pastry roller to make more intricate pie crusts. He’d thought Dean might appreciate the effort.

Shutting the door, he stood in the foyer for a moment. So, Dean was gone. Why hadn’t he ever asked for Dean’s number? He’d had plenty of opportunities.

It’s a small town, he reasoned. I’ll see him again, I have to. He knew Dean lived on the other side of town, maybe if he drove around there, kept an eye out—

Alright, stop, he told himself. He was starting to sound crazy. He dropped the package off on the kitchen table. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

***

The next day, Castiel was seated at his desk, sending an email to a client, when the doorbell rang. 

His pulse sped up, and instinctively he rose from his chair. Then he remembered that Dean didn’t deliver to his house anymore. Sighing, he sat back down. 

He’d been trying not to think of it, but every other item in his house—the mixer, the bookends, the pastry roller—only reminded him of Dean and brought down his mood. 

Why didn’t I take Gabe’s advice? he bemoaned inwardly. That was a thought he never thought he’d have, but it looked like Gabe had been right. He’d lost his chance.  

Staring at his computer screen, he tried to focus on his work, but the distraction had ruined his focus. At least I’ll save money, he reasoned ruefully, now that he had no excuse for making random purchases. 

The doorbell rang again and he lifted his head, frowning. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ordering anything. Maybe it was Arla, coming over to say hello.  

Rising, he went to the front door and tried to remember the name of that diner Dean had told him about. Maybe he’d stake out there on a weekend, see if Dean showed up. Or was that creepy?

Definitely creepy, he decided with a sigh, opening the door. Then he froze.

“Dean?”

Standing on his front porch—this time in jeans and a black t-shirt, holding a potted fern—was Dean. He smiled hesitantly, almost nervously. “Hi, Cas.” 

“What are you doing here?” Castiel looked at the street, but of course the familiar UPS truck wasn’t there. In its place was a sleek, black car. 

“My route changed and I, uh, never got to say bye. So I thought I’d just come over. Sorry if that’s weird—”

“No, I’m happy to see you. Just surprised. I thought I’d never…”

Dean grinned. “Scared you’d lost me forever?”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted. 

“I, um, I brought you this.” He held out the plant, laughed nervously. “I felt weird coming over without anything to deliver.”

“Thank you. It’s lovely.” Taking the plant, he stroked the leaves. “I know exactly where to put it.” His heart pounded as he realized now was his chance. He had to take it.

He started to ask for Dean’s number, but Dean started talking too, and they both stopped, laughing. “You first,” Castiel said. 

“Um, well.” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was thinking, would you maybe want to hang out somewhere other than your doorway? I can show you around town.” He gestured to his car. “Take you for a spin in Baby.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I would love that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to ask you out, or ask for your number. I just never worked up the courage.”

Dean grinned. “Am I really that intimidating?”

Castiel laughed. “No. Not at all. You’re quite the opposite.” He gestured inside. “Would you, uh, would you like to come inside?”

“Yeah, totally.” 

Castiel started to open the door wider, then paused. “I have a question. You never did need my signature, did you? For the packages?”

Dean frowned, then realization seemed to hit him and his face reddened. “Yeah, uh. No. But I figured it was a surefire way to get your name and talk to you.”

“Is that a trick you use often?”

“Nope, you were the first.” He grinned, eyes suddenly teasing. "Did you really need everything you were ordering, or were all the packages just an excuse to see me?"

Now was Castiel's time to blush. "I did need what I ordered!" he protested. "Well, some things. But mainly... I just wanted to talk to you."

“Well, it worked.”

“Yes.” He stepped back for Dean to come inside his home and smiled at him. “And I’m very glad it did."

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[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day! 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on KoFi!

__________________________

While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week. 

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week. 

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep. 

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things. 

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again. 

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies. 

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full. 

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning. 

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.” 

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh. 

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror. 

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway. 

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over. 

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too. 

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation. 

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half. 

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice. 

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison. 

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter. 

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers. 

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender. 

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets. 

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face. 

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list.  But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could. 

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need. 

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you. 

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly. 

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly. 

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek. 

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Open the trunk please,” you ask. 

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner. 

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers. 

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him. 

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV. 

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly. 

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house. 

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap. 

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin. 

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on. 

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. “Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons. 

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up. 

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks. 

“Moon, maybe,” he counters. 

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it. 

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures. 

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in. 

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask. 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content. 

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could. 

“What did you post?” you ask. 

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile. 

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too. 

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of  buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit. 

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say. 

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns. 

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe. 

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe. 

[imagine-the-fanfics]

Everywhere

Characters: Goro Majima x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Filthy smut. Just... So much smut.

Inspiration: Request by Anon – “Hello! May I request a nsfw majima fic? Where it's the majima everywhere (him doing diff roleplays) but he's following his female s/o around instead”

A/n: Y/s/n refers to your stage name. Hope this works for you!

Life with your boyfriend was never boring. A true enigma of a man, Goro Majima never ceased to surprise you. When one of his best friends was released from prison, he was determined to help his friend get back on his feet – by randomly picking fights with him. You were always there after the fights, of course, tending his wounds. Sometimes, between the moments he spent pestering Kiryu, he would surprise you.

The first time he had caught you off-guard was when you were hailing a taxi, absentmindedly sitting in the backseat, texting your coworker while telling the driver where to go. The scheduling conflict had caused problems, and you were on your way home after an extra-long shift and half of the next. You didn’t even look out the window, trying to figure out if you were working in the morning with the adjustments that were being made – of course you didn’t get a straightforward answer. When you finally had it solved you looked up and out the window, realizing you were nowhere near your home. You started to panic a little.

“This isn’t where—” You looked at the driver in the rear-view mirror, locking your eyes on your boyfriend’s eye. “You scared me, Go-chan,” you sighed. His maniacal laugh made your heart flutter.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Y/n-chan,” he was still chuckling at himself.

“Where are we?” You asked, looking around.

“We’re at the pier,” he replied casually. “Yer outta work, right? Thought we could… Maybe…” He wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed.

Before you knew it, the taxi was parked, and Majima had gotten into the back with you. Sex in the backseat of a car is uncomfortable. There’s not much you can do aside from a couple different positions.

You were leaning back against the taxi door, your legs spread and Majima between them. His skill never ceased to amaze you. You braced yourself against the back headrest and the divider, moaning and whining as he worked you over. His fingers curled and pumping like a jackhammer. He looked up at you, watching as your eyes rolled back and the tightening coil in your core snapped. You moaned his name, the familiar fuzzy weightlessness radiating through you. He continued going, slowing his pace a bit as you rode the waves of your orgasm, unable to take his eye off you. The feeling of your pussy’s rhythmic contractions around his fingers made him close his eye.

You were panting, looking at him as he pulled his fingers out, giving you a final lick before pulling away. You couldn’t help and look at the straining bulge in his pants. All you wanted was him inside you again. You looked out the windows, fogged but you could see the lights of the outside world that paid no mind to either of you or what you were doing here.

Another time, you hadn’t expected going to work to find your boyfriend in drag in the dressing room at the hostess club where you worked. He insisted his name was Goromi, so you rolled with it. Goromi was your newest co-worker, and it surprised you just how good of a hostess she was. The post-shift sex in the dressing room was mind-blowing..You were bracing yourself against the counter where you normally did your makeup, Goromi’s dress had been surprisingly easy for her to lift up and she was pounding you from behind, hands on your hips to pull you back as he thrust forward. Occasionally she would reach up and knead your breasts or would reach around and play with your clit. You left the dressing room sore, hair messed up, reeking of sex, and in a hell of a better mood than when you went in, and you found yourself surprised that no one in the club had heard your moans and shouts of pleasure. Goromi giggled as the two of you left the club together.

On your way to work one day, you were stopped by a police officer. It wasn’t until you actually looked at them that you saw your boyfriend. He’d grinned and made many innuendos about what he was going to do with you, but you reminded him you had work and kissed his cheek. He pouted of course, but let you go about your day. He’d get you another time. Bring you into a secluded alleyway and fuck you against a wall. It felt dirty and the thought alone made him hard.

One time, he jumped out from under a traffic cone, scaring you shitless to the point you screamed, jumped, and then fell to the ground. He was quickly at your side, making sure you weren’t hurt and helping you up. By the time you were on your feet, the two of you were laughing your asses off. Neither of you cared about the funny looks you were getting.

Your favorite time was when you were on a pseudo-date with a client at his favorite bar. When your bartender turned around and was revealed to be your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but grin. Neither of you gave any hint to the client about your relationship; it was all part of being a hostess. He knew what he had signed up for when the two of you started dating, just as you were aware that he was yakuza.

“Alright, Y/s/n-chan, let’s get you back to the club,” your client said with a laughter painted sigh. “I’ve taken enough of your time up.” “If it’s all the same to you, Hiza-kun, I’d like to stay here,” you smiled at him softly. “I’m meeting a friend here later, and it would save me some walking.”

“Alright,” Hizashi pulled out his wallet, handing you enough for a cab home. “If I’m leaving you at a bar, the least I can do is pay for your ride home when you’re ready.” He stared at you for a moment. “I’ll see you next Monday at 3, correct?”

“I think so, but I’d have to check the schedule. I’m also working the day after tomorrow if you’d like to come in. I know I’m free until 4.”

“I might take you up on that, Y/s/n-chan. Be safe tonight, okay?”

“I will. You, too, Hiza-kun.”

You waved at him as he left and focused your attention to the bartender.

“You’re a jack of all trades, aren’t Go-chan?” You teased, sipping your whiskey.

“Eh? So what if I am?” Majima pouted, feigning offense that you knew better than to take seriously. “Eh, whatever. It’s almost closin’ time, I’ll likely be home late.”

“Oh? Family stuff?” You asked, raising your glass to your lips. When nothing but air hit your lips, you realized you were out. You set the glass down with a sigh, your boyfriend already refilling it. His silence made you sigh. “Can’t talk about it here?” You raised the glass to your lips to drink.

“I’d rather fuck ya right here,” Majima said plainly, his signature manic laughter filling the air of the bar as you sprayed your whiskey all over the counter, putting a hand over your mouth after. He kept laughing as you looked at the mess you made and started laughing, too. He started cleaning it up. “Always so messy,” he teased.

“Go-chan, this is a public space,” you reminded quietly.

“Yeah? No one else’s here,” he observed, looking around the room. “I can close early, and we can…” His eyebrow wiggle said it all. “‘Sides, it’s kinda hot, dontcha think? Fuckin’ in public—”

“I don’t think about it,” you admitted. He just tsked at you and came out from behind the bar, walking over and locking the door as you watched. “Are you really—”

“Yeah, really. Ya think I was jokin’?” Majima looked at you. “If you don’t wanna we ain’t gotta.”

“No, I…” You cleared your throat, but that was enough for Majima. You turned to face him as he walked over, placing one hand on the bar, his other hand adjusted his tie. All you could do was stare at him, trying not to melt.

“Say it,” Majima’s voice was low and rough. The bartender act was gone, Daddy was here to play.

“I want to,” you confirmed, and he pressed his lips to your immediately.

The hand that wasn’t on the bar explored your body: grabbing your ass, kneading your breasts, getting tangled in your hair. His touch was electrifying, sending miniature shockwaves through out your body. It was almost shameful how fast you felt your wetness, but you didn’t care. Majima knew how to work you, and it was divine every time the two of your bodies became one.

“Whatta do with ya,” he muttered, his lips grazing yours before he went back to kissing you. He maneuvered his kisses to your neck, and you leaned your head to the side so he had easier access. He pressed his hips to yours. “This is hot,” he admitted. “We should do this more often, dontcha think?”

You were trembling under his touch. Doing this in public was definitely adding to the fun, but it was also giving you anxiety. What if someone saw? You knew the windows were tinted – you could see out, but no one could see in. You looked over, watching people walk by.

“Just think, I could bend ya over this counter and fuck ya ‘til ya pass out, and nunna them would know the difference. Something sexy about that, dontcha think?” You nodded. “Use yer words, Babygirl.”

“Yes,” you answered, breathless.

“Yer just a mess, aintcha?” You could feel his lips curl into a grin against your skin. “I wonder…” His hand went from your ass to your thigh, lifting up your skirt and sliding a hand over your panties. Another maniacal laugh. “Yer soaked.” You blushed. “Awww, don’ be embarrassed, Babygirl. I know how weak ya are for me.” A pause. “There is so much I wanna do to ya, Babygirl.”

“Yeah?” You managed to squeak out.

“Oh yeah.” The next thing you knew you were seated on the counter, barely on it. “Lean back a bit,” he ordered, removing your panties and lifting up your skirt.

You did as you were told, bracing yourself against the back edge so you wouldn’t fall. His kisses moved from your neck, to your collarbone, to your exposed cleavage, to your covered stomach, and to your thighs before he maneuvered them over his shoulders and found home where they met.

The sensation of his tongue inside you made you shiver. His tongue’s pace was steady, before he licked up and refocused on your clit. You were moaning, eyes closed with your head tilted back at the sensation of him running his tongue over your clit. After a moment he inserted a finger, starting to pump. Your breathing was becoming heavier, faster. He inserted a second finger, pumping faster, curling his fingers to hit your g spot.

“I want ya so bad,” Majima growled against you, his fingers still working you over, “but I love the way ya sound.” He bit your thigh before returning.

“Go-chan, I—” You whined, your hand in his hair.

Majima grinned, pumping his fingers faster and flicking his tongue over your clit again, his eyes peeking, watching your face as he felt you start to rhythmically clench around him. He couldn’t help but grin wickedly, knowing he was the cause of the mind-numbing orgasm that had left you speechless. Your vision tunneled, and you rode the waves. He had slowed down his pace, but he didn’t stop until your orgasm had ended.

“You think you can stand?” He asked you.

“I—Yeah, maybe,” you could hardly think.

“Better safe than sorry.” He picked you up, carrying you over to the pool table, laying you down on it. “Are ya comfortable?” He asked, running a hand on your thigh, getting dangerously close to your center before returning down your thigh, repeating the motion.

“Go-chaaan,” you whined.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, knowing exactly what you wanted. Instead of giving it to you, he slid his fingers in again. His other hand unbuttoned your shirt and moved your bra so your breast was exposed. He bent down, taking it in his mouth, causing you to moan even louder. “Baby girl,” he hummed, immediately shifting his kisses from your nipple, to your cleavage, to your collarbone, to your neck. “Whadda ya want?”

“I want youuuu,” you moaned, your eyes closed.

“Yer wish is my command,” his hands already working on his belt.

It didn’t take long before his erection was free and against you. His breath hitched and you felt his dick twitch against your thigh before he pulled you to the edge. Once again, your legs were over his shoulders as he lined himself up at your entrance, slowly working his way in so you had time to adjust.

He had to close his eyes to keep control while you adjusted to him. Once he was in, he slowly started to thrust. His pace started to quicken. His hands found their place on your hips, holding you steady as he picked up the speed. He closed his eye, biting his lip and tilting his head up for a moment before looking down at you.

“Yer beautiful,” he was breathless. You couldn’t stop moaning, but you looked at him, your face still lost in a place of pure bliss. “Fuck, ya feel so good, Y/n.”

“So do you,” you managed to pant, watching him watch you. You groaned, reaching your hands over you to grab the edge of the table. “Fuck, Go-chan.”

Majima moved one hand from your hip to gently rub your clit, trying to focus on you and your pleasure, even though he was getting lost in his own. You’d already came once, and he always made you come at least twice before he got his rocks off. It didn’t take long before you were clenching around him again, quickly approaching your second orgasm. His pace increased, watching your face as your orgasm ripped through you with a loud, animalistic groan. He growled as your rhythmic contractions pushed him closer and closer to the edge before he too fell off. He gave a few more thrusts before braced himself against the pool table, the two of you panting before your lips met in a tender kiss. He pulled out and kissed your calf.

“I love you,” Majima said, not bothering with his fake accent. “I really do. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” you panted, running a hand through his hair before trying to steady your breathing.

“I mean it,” he leaned down and kissed your cheek, letting himself lower so he was on top of you, careful not to put his full weight on your body. He rested his cheek against yours and closed his eye, still panting. “I am helplessly yours. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll do it.”

“Take me home?” You asked. “Hold me until we fall asleep?”

“As you wish,” another kiss to your cheek and he was up, quickly finding something to clean you up.

The two of you adjusted your clothing and he pulled you in for an embrace, holding you close and tight. You rested your head against him, taking in the moment.

[lilchibi-chan]

Hawks Mafia! AU x Reader

This post/series is inspired by mailorderfriend on TikTok. I love her videos and when she did this series, my mind started going WILD! Details will be inspired by her videos (obvi) but everything else will come from my head.

CW/TW: THIS CHAPTER DOES CONTAIN MENTION OF ATTEMPTED ASSAULT, SO IF THAT IS TRIGGERING FOR YOU, YOU CAN SCROLL PAST IT, I WILL ALSO INSERT A WARNING BEFORE SAID ASSAULT TAKES PLACE!!

You work at a local diner in the city and make pretty good money. Business men come in on their lunch break and even late at night when they’re working late. A few of them try to impress you and make comments about you being beautiful and how you’re “much too nice of a girl to be working in a place like this”. You know it’s just for them to show off to their friends, although you do make great tips from it. They feel entitled because they work in these big beautiful buildings and look down on everyone, but that stuff doesn’t impress you.

There is one guy that sticks out to you. He has ash blonde hair and these amber/golden eyes and always has on the nicest suits, like really expensive looking and tailor made.Not like the business men that you usually see. You could tell he was rich or at least had more than enough money he knew what to do with, but he wasn’t arrogant. He always comes in when you’re working late, which has been everyday lately (just trying to make a little extra cash). He’s always nice to you and always asks how your day has been. He insists on calling you pet names like baby bird and hummingbird, but you don’t mind them. He says them in more of an endearing way than a i’m-trying-to-get-in-your-pants way.

When you’re closing, he stays until you leave. You don’t find it weird at all. He has this aura about him that just makes you feel safe. He makes you feel at peace, happy even.

It’s been raining for the past week and you have been dreading closing, but you needed the money since your roommate had moved out. You were on the hunt for a new one, but didn’t have any bites yet.  

“Excuse me sir,” you say to the very handsome,blonde haired man

“Yes, hummingbird,” he says looking into your eyes, each yours with his

“Um, we’re closing, s-so I have to ask you to leave,” you say nervously.

“That’s alright,” he says with a soft smile,“you have a Goodnight baby bird. Get home safe and be careful out there with all that rain.”

“Th-thank you sir,” you reply,still nervous

“Enough of the sir business, please call me Hawks”

“Yes si-I mean Hawks”

“Good girl,” he says in a low voice, then pats your head

He made his way out the door and towards his car. It was a blacked out Audi R8. He waved to you before he pulled off and you gave a small wave back.

You noticed there was man sitting in a corner booth. He was a regular, but he never came this late.You noticed the scent of liquor as you got closer to him.

“Sir,” you say tapping his shoulder

“Hey gorgeous,” he says drunkly

“Sir, we’re closing. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” you say nicely, but firm

“I’ll leave... if you give me your number and let me take you out,” he says grabbing your hand

“Sir, I’m not allowed to fraternize with guests and that includes dating them,” you say pulling your hand out of his

“C’mon beautiful. You always treat me well when I come in and I see the way you look at me. You think I don’t notice, but I do. You want me,” he says standing over you

You mentally roll your eyes

“Sir, that’s just me doing my job. It’s called courtesy and being respectful. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now”

“C’mon stop denying it. You and I both want this. I know it, you know, so c’mon. Let me take you out,” he says going to grab your arm, but you back up

“Sir, this is the last time I’m going to ask you. Please leave,” you say in a slightly pissed off tone

“Look, I’m not screwing around,” he says finally grabbing you

WARNING: ATTEMPTED ASSAULT HAPPENS IN NEXT PARAGRAPH, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SCROLL PAST IF THAT IS SOMETHING THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE/IS TRIGGERING!

You try to pull away, but this time his grip is much stronger in you. He pushes you into the corner booth and forces you to lay down. He lowers himself to kiss you, but the door swings open causing his attention to go there.

“Well, well, well... what’s going on here? That’s no way to treat a lady, sir” he says smiling

“Stay out of this, it has nothing to do with you,” the customer says,still hovering over you

“Oh, it very much does sir cause ya see, I don’t really care for people disrespecting women in any way, but especially if it’s her.”

“Tch. Get lost before I have you limping out of here”

“Sir, you’re the one that’s probably not gonna make it out of here”

“You think you’re tough. Go ahead and try. I’ll lay you out right here,” the customer says finally getting off you

You’re able to sit up and see that it was Hawks who came to your aid.

You see him remove his suit jacket, fold it, then he lays it over the booth closest to the door. He started rolling up his sleeves and made his way toward the customer trying to have his way with you.

Hawks grabs the man and throws him to the floor. He then joins the man and places a hand around his throat.

“How does it feel to be the bitch now, huh? Come back here and I promise it’ll be the last fucking thing you do. If I see or hear that you’ve been hanging around, I’ll fucking kill you,” he says with a smile

He meant what he said.

Hawks releases his hold and let’s the man up off the ground. He races out of the diner and doesn’t even think to look back.

Hawks makes his way over to you and at first you’re unsure if you should let him near.

“Are you alright, baby bird,” he asks with a tinge of sadness in his eyes

“Y-yeah. Thanks to you. H-how did you even know-“

“I saw him when he came in and something felt off. When I drove off, I only parked across the street. I watched just in case he tried anything and I’m glad I did.”

“Th-thank you Hawks,” you say, still shaken up by the events that just occurred

He looks at you softly. His eyes saying ‘I’m here for you. You’re safe with me’

“Get your stuff baby bird. I’ll take you home, you shouldn’t be alone tonight,” he says softly as to not startle you or make you feel any more uneasy

You simply nod and get your stuff from the break room in the back of the restaurant.

You meet Hawks in the front and you feel the sudden urge to hug him.

This surprises him, but he hugs back and rubs the back of your head.

“Thank you,” you squeak out

He smiles and lets out a small hum.

He takes your hand and guides you to his car, covering you both with a huge umbrella.

He opens the door of the passenger side and lets you get in first. He does a small jog around and gets in on the drivers side.

“Comfortable, baby bird?”

“Mhmm”

“Good, so where we headed,” he says smiling

You tell him the address and starts the car. The drive is quiet, but comfortable. Hawks even put on the seat warmer for your chair to further comfort you.

He makes it to the front of your building and wakes you up gently. You weren’t even aware that you had nodded off.

“We’re here, humming bird”

“Thank you, Hawks...for everything,” you say grabbing his hand and rubbing his knuckles with your fingers

“Anytime...here,” he says handing you a business card

You examine the nicely crafted card and smile

“That’s my cell number. Whenever you need me, don’t hesitate”

“Thank you,” you say mentally kicking yourself because you keep saying thank you,“I promise that’s not the only thing I can say, but I’m appreciative of everything you’ve don’t for me tonight”

He laughs

“It’s fine and you’re welcome. I’m bein honest though kid. In fact, how about I give you a job at my company? It pays more than you working at the restaurant and I have top of the line security, that way you’ll always be safe. You’ll even make enough that you won’t need a roommate”

“I’ll think about it. Thank you though. I just wanna get through tonight. When I can actually think, I’ll let you know”

“Alright, baby bird. Well you get on up to your apartment. I’ll leave once you’re inside.”

You get out the car and enter the code to enter your building, then you take out your key fob to enter the second set of doors and to use the elevator. When you get up to your apartment, you look out the window and see Hawks’ car still sitting in the same spot. You can’t help the smile that grows on your face.

You text him, letting him know you’re in your apartment and you’re safe. He takes a minute, but eventually pulls off.

You head to your bathroom to wash the day off and head to bed.

Art by kawaiitentacle on IG

Hope you guys enjoyed this! I wanted to give you this in the meantime while I figure out how to extend Siren Song (I hate writers block).

[steves-on-a-plane]

Sincere Apology

Words: 1151 Pairing: Luke Skywalker x Reader Summary: Luke and Reader were in a speeder bike accident and the former moisture farm tries his best to apologize. After several attempts he come up with something that might finally win back Reader’s favor. A/N: Inspired by this post by @make-me-imagine​! 

“[Y/N], how many times do I have to say that I’m sorry before you’ll forgive me?” Luke Skywalker asked as he chased after you. You didn’t answer him. Instead, you continued on your way to deliver the data pens in your hands to Leia. While you were walking slightly faster than your normal pace, it was hardly considered a brisk walk. Luke was his best trying to keep up with you. His boots thumped against the metal grates on the floor as he stomped along.

“I already said forget about it Skywalker.” You answered without stopping or looking over your shoulder.

“That’s not the same things as saying you’ve forgiven me!” Luke huffed. You stepped to the side, avoiding a collision with Han Solo who had appeared from an offshoot corridor. Luke was not as agile and collided shoulder first into his friend’s chest.

“Easy there, Farm Boy!” Han said, gripping Luke by the shoulders. “What’s got you so fired up this early?”

“It’s [Y/N].” Luke sighed. He gestured impatiently behind Han, but when the smuggler turned to look, you were long gone. “Leia sent us out on a scouting mission late last night. [Y/N] doesn’t know how to drive a speeder bike, they don’t have much use for them on her home planet, so we just took the one and I…”

“Wait a minute.” Han began to laugh. It was joyous chuckle that starkly contrasted his usual sarcastic scoff. “Are you the one who crashed that Speeder bike? The brass isn’t too happy about that...”

“It was an older bike.” Luke answered defensively. “It’s not like it was a new one! Besides, I’ve already offered to help repair it.”

“The bike I saw was pretty banged up.” Han shook his head, no longer laughing. “You’re lucky neither one of you were hurt.”

“Now you sound like [Y/N].” Luke pouted.

“you’re going to have to do something big to make it up to her.” Han said.

“Yeah.” Luke sighed in agreement. “If you think of anything, let me know.”

Hours later, you had finished the work you’d been assigned. Work which included a mission report detailing exactly what happened to the unsalvageable speeder bike Luke had ruined. It had been a long day of paperwork and data logging. You were ready to hit the sonic and then retire to bed wearing one of your few remaining home planet luxuries, silk pajamas. Then there was a knock on your dorm door.

“[Y/N], it’s Luke.” He told you.

“What do you want Skywalker?” You snapped before tapping the door control and watching the door panel slide open.

“I’m here to apologize…again.” Luke explained.  

“I already said…”

“Let me make it up to you please!” He begged.

“Alright.” You sighed. “But this better be quick.”

“Uh, it won’t be.” He apologized. “But it will be worth it. Trust me.” You followed Luke through the Rebellion Base to outside. He led you down a small path less than a mile long. The same one you’d gone down the night before. At the end of the path was a makeshift corral of sorts that was used to house the speeder bikes.

“Because you didn’t learn your lesson the first time?” You asked him. “Who the heck did you convince to let you borrow another speeder bike immediately after you trashed the last one.”

“Well…” Luke rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t exactly get permission…”

“So we’re here to steal and ruin a seeder bike? I skipped my sonic for this?” You shook your head.

“What? No! I thought ya’ know, maybe since you don’t have a speeder bike license, I could show you how to drive one so that next time we go on a mission together you can drive.” He explained.

“Why would you do that?” You asked suspiciously.

“Because I know it would make you feel more secure to be able to drive the speeder when we go out and I’m hoping it will make you less mad at me. I can’t stand the idea of you not talking to me for another day.”

“Speeder bike lessons, huh?” You considered the idea.

“I brought you a helmet.” He offered out a repurposed biker trooper helmet that someone had painted rebellion orange.

“Alright, but if we crash, you’re taking all the blame.” You insisted before accepting the helmet and his apology.

“[Y/N], Turn! Turn! Turn!” Luke shouted over the rumbled of the speeder bike. There was no reason for him to worry though, you’d already begun to make the turn and avoided the tree in your way. You’d been training together for two weeks now and it turned out the farm boy was not a bad teacher. He also wasn’t too bad at driving the speeder bike either, when he wasn’t distracted.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, parking the bike make in its corral.

“Sure.” Luke beamed. You walked together up the path to the rebel base. “Goodnight, [Y/N]. See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow, Farm Boy.” You smiled back. As you and Luke went your separate ways down two corridors. You walked towards your dorm with your speeder helmet in hand.

“Does the quarter master know you’ve got that helmet? You know you’re not supposed to take those things to your private quarters.” You turned slowly on your heels to see who had just caught you red handed. It was Han Solo. “Oh Han, it’s only you.” You sighed with relief.

“Yeah, only me.” He repeated gruffly. “You and Luke just come back from your secret rendezvous?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that.” You answered.

“Well, if it is supposed to be a secret, it won’t stay that way for very long.” Han said. “The kid has been talking me and Chewy’s ears off about how much he looks forward to meeting with you every night. I think he’s got a thing for you.”

“I-what? Why are you telling me these?” You asked him. Han shrugged.

“I want to see how things play out.” He smirked. “I figure the kid’s never gonna make a move on his own so…”

“So you thought you would push things along.” You nodded, now understanding.

“Hey it’s a win, win for me.” Han explained. “If you feel the same way about him, I get to take all the credit for nudging you in the right direction and if you don’t, I get some entertainment out of the blow up.”

“What makes you think he has feelings for me anyway?” You asked.

“For starters it only takes about a week to learn how to operate a speeder bike and you two have been sneaking off for about three now. That means that either you’re the worst driver in the galaxy or he’s finding an excuse to spend time with you. Think about it.” Han shrugged again before continuing what he was doing before bumping into you.

[collecting-stories]

Tara - ep. 11 - Georgia

Summary: The reader’s birthday is right around the corner. Tara shares a secret with Daryl that only she knows. 

A/N: Someone recently asked about me posting pictures that inspired Georgia so I thought I would share the pinterest board I use for it.  (I’ll add more as the series moves along. If you wanna see anything specific like outfit inspo let me know lol).

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“My baby! Look at her.” You cheered, standing in the parking lot of Dale’s autobody as Daryl drove the Jeep up and parked beside you. He had told you to come by after work to collect the Jeep at the shop, thinking it’d be better that way then you showing up at his house. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” He shrugged, handing the keys over to you. “Another tussle with the cat?” He asked, catching sight of the cut on your cheek. Without thinking he reached up and brushed his hand across the cut and you flinched a little.  

You smiled though, when you met his eyes, “yeah, can’t resist ‘em.”  

“Thought maybe ya were getting into it at the diner, heard ya got arrested,” he teased.  

“I wasn’t arrested! Who told you I was arrested?”  

“Calm yerself down. Michonne said she picked ya up Friday night with Maggie Greene.” He replied. Michonne had given him an earful about it on Saturday morning when she’d seen him in the parking lot of the gas station.  

“I was at Shane’s party, there was a fight.” You replied, “but I wasn’t arrested.” You wondered if Michonne told Daryl that she called you his girlfriend and whether or not that bothered him. If he corrected her everytime or if he didn’t say one way or another. “Anyway, I went cause Aiden told me he’d tell my mom we’ve been hanging out if I didn’t. I didn’t want you to get in trouble,” you admitted.

With both of the boys only in holding over night to ‘cool off’ as the sheriff called it, you were sure that Aiden had convinced his mom to tell yours about all the time you were spending with Daryl. You’d spent all last night laying in bed freaking out over the thought of Daryl getting in trouble because you were stupid enough to not just go talk to Deanna in the moment.  

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, ya shouldn’t be spending time hanging around me anyway.” He mused, leaning against the side of your jeep. “Don’t matter anyway, going hunting for a few days...sure they’ll forget about whatever gossip they got running out their mouths by then.”

“When are you going?”

“Leavin’ in the morning why?” He asked.  

“How long you gonna be gone?”

“Why?” Daryl asked again, “ya want me ta print ya an itinerary or something?”  

“No. I’m just asking.” You frowned, hoping it looked like a glare but positive it looked much more like a pout. The thought of Daryl leaving, even for a weekend, was all kinds of awful. It was already going to be weird not going to his house three times a week to watch him work on the car and you were afraid that he would stop wanting you around now that the car was fixed. Going hunting felt like the final thing before he told you to stop bothering him for good. “You still gonna teach me car stuff when you come back?”

“Told ya I would.” He said. When Tiny called his name from the back of the shop, Daryl stood up, wiping imaginary dirt off his hands. “I gotta get back ta work, ya stay outta prison til I’m back, ya hear.”

“I wasn’t arrested!” You stressed,  

“Course ya weren’t.” He hesitated for a moment, hands in the pockets of his coveralls as he stood there, waiting to say whatever was on his mind. “I’ll only be a few days, I see ya after. Teach ya how to drive.”

“I know how to drive!” You laughed, “you told me I was good driver.”

“When was that?”  

“Daryl!”  

He grinned, brushing his hair back with his hand before shaking it out. “I’ll be seeing ya alright?”

“I’ll see you when you get back.” You nodded, finally opening the door to your jeep as Daryl headed back into the auto shop to help Tiny. You waved to Axel as you peeled out, not headed far though, you had a shift at the diner to get back to.  

You hadn’t mentioned it to Daryl then though you had been planning to. It was your birthday soon. About two weeks and you’d be eighteen. It wouldn’t matter what Deanna told your mom or what Aiden said and maybe, Michonne’s teasing wouldn’t have to be just teasing. It was all wishful thinking though. There was still the unavoidable possibility that he didn’t like you at all and that when you told him how you felt he wouldn’t reciprocate. Maggie told you that you were crazy to even think that way, Daryl was obviously into you, according to her.  

You’d spent enough time with him though, you knew he wouldn’t come around easy. But that was okay, you were pretty willing to stick it out even if all you ever got was a glimpse of a smile.  

-

The diner was packed when you got there, almost unusually so for a Thursday night but you recognized the two girls sitting at the counter the moment you walked through the front door. You waved while you ducked in the back to drop your things and clock in, fixing the apron around your dress and coming back out the double doors behind the counter.  

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, stopping in front of Maggie and Tara before you waited on anyone else.  

Maggie only came by the diner if she was driving you home and lately she hadn’t. Tara came even more infrequently so you knew they had to want something if they were sitting there, especially at the beginning of your shift.

“Wanted to get dinner, saw you across the street with your boyfriend.” Tara teased.  

“Shut up.”

“You tell him that you’re gonna be eighteen soon.” She questioned. “You guys can-”

“Tara! Shut up!” You smacked the back of her hand with the pad of paper in your hand, “my God.”

“We came over because we were talking party ideas and wanted to know what you wanted for your birthday?” Maggie cut in, bringing the conversation back to something more appropriate for a diner full of families.

“After the other night...no party. Just us, Glenn...maybe Eugene? No one else, please.” You laughed.  

“You know what would be more fun than a party?” Lori commented, stopping behind you.  

You twisted around, looking at your co-worker, “waiting on tables?” You replied. She was always on your case, it was no surprise that she would’ve been ease-dropping on the conversation.  

“Especially since you aren’t being paid to stand here chitchatting with your friends.” She retorted.  

“I’m going, I’m going,” you muttered, “discuss without me...no party.” You insisted, walking around the counter to go wait on the tables in your section.

Tara spun in her stool, watching you chat up tables of families. “Watch her, I’ll be right back.” She instructed, hopping off the stool. Maggie was about to ask where she was headed but Tara was already across the diner, the bell on the door clattering behind her as she left. Through the picture windows Maggie could see her cut across the street to the garage. You would kill them if you found out, surely.  

-

Tara walked up the small parking lot to the garage. She’d been there once to drop you off but had never been inside. She’d only seen Daryl a handful of times and only talked to him once. Not exactly the basis for inviting him to come to a birthday dinner for you that she couldn’t even imagine him agreeing too.  

“Can I help you?” T-Dog called, spying the girl walking into the open garage a little less confident now that she was through the door.  

“Is Daryl here?”  

“D! You got a visitor.” T-Dog shouted, looking back at Tara skeptically before walking off to go back to work.  

Daryl appeared on the other side of a four-door sedan, eyes narrowing when he realized the visitor was not you. Tara smiled a little too apprehensively, walking over to him and waving. “Hey, I’m Tara...I’m friends with-”

“Yeah, I recognize ya,” Daryl replied, leaning against the car. “What’re ya doing here?”

“Well...you might not know but she’s turning eighteen in two weeks and we were planning on having a party for her, nothing special but...” Tara shrugged, “I wanted to invite you.”

“I’m busy.”  

“In two weeks? I didn’t even tell you the date.” She pointed out.  

“Yeah and? She didn’t tell me herself, ain’t something she wants me ta know.” He replied. It seemed logical enough for him. You hadn’t mentioned your birthday to him at all. Maybe the party was a surprise but you hadn’t even brought up the exact date so why would you want him at a party with your friends?  

“I think she’s probably just nervous, you know?” Tara tried to argue. Considering how much you talked about Daryl on a daily basis she wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t mention anything to him out of sheer anxiety. You were eighteen...the implications were there.  

“What for?”

“Well,” Tara paused, was he joking? “She’s eighteen...you guys could like...date.”

Daryl brought his hand up, chewing at the tip of his thumb, cheeks going red at the word. He’d thought about it. Hell, he thought about it all the time. At Thanksgiving, in the parking lot on Christmas Eve, at the stupid winter fest, in his truck while you were driving to Woodbury, anytime he looked over at you while he was working on the car. What he wouldn’t give to have that, to kiss you whenever he wanted, to be close to you, but that kind of happiness wasn’t in the cards for him.  

You were a fluke, a weird accident that happened in his timeline and once the universe righted itself you would be fixing your eye on someone who was better for you. Someone who would live up to all the standards that people in King County had.  

“I got work.” He finally said, looking back down at the car in front of him.  

“Okay. Just, think about it?” Tara requested. “She really likes you and, I know my opinion is whatever but, she deserves some happiness.” Tara turned, leaving the shop to get back to Maggie, hoping you didn’t notice her absence too much.  

“What’d ya mean?” Daryl called after her.  

Tara paused, looking back at him, “don’t tell her I told you...no one knows.” She stressed, “things aren’t exactly...her parents aren’t what everyone thinks.”  

As she headed back to the diner Daryl exhaled, kicking the tire of the sedan as that feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. The same feeling he’d pushed away earlier when he saw the scratch on your cheek. The one he’d ignored just after Christmas when you told him you tousled with a cat at the Greene’s. It was that feeling, nagging, coupled with the smallest hint of something familiar behind your eyes.  

He knew the feeling. He lived it. But you shouldn’t have to.  

-

Taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist  @mainokutan @sabertooth-potato @solllaris @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here 

[un-beel-ievable]

Before October’s Gone (Mammon × reader) | songfic

Author’s note: Please do not repost!! If you like my writing, please leave a like and a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

Inspired by Cimorelli’s song Before October’s Gone! You can listen to it here.

One of the longer fics I’ve ever written...I hope you guys enjoy it! I worked really hard on this one :3

_____

♪ Our phone calls got shorter

And the nights they got longer

You stopped replying

And I saw you with her

You tell me you miss me

I feel special for a second

But then you turn around and show me that you didn't meant it

I listen to your voicemail from last September

And I bet that you don't remember leaving it

But it's all I got

My last piece of you ♪

“Mammon!” The chirpy voice at the other end of the line made up for the weeks that he’d missed hearing it. Curse Lucifer for implementing the stupid roster for phone calls —having to wait his turn while his brothers got to listen your cheerful voice and melodic laugh was beginning to drive him up the wall. He understood why Lucifer would have to put such a rule in place for his brothers, but surely the peacock could loosen up a little for him right? The others may be “eating up too much of their time”, but such an offensive statement could never be applied to him. After all, he was your first. “Yo! How’ve ya been? Wait, lemme guess. You’ve just been wanderin’ around in that sad, depressin’ human world with no place to go and nothin’ to do...right?”

You laugh, and his heart does a somersault in his chest. How he’s missed it. Nothing in all of the three realms could make him happier than hearing the sound of your laughter; it’s like music to his ears. Knowing that he was the one that drew such an adorable sound from your lips was the cherry on top. The first time he’d heard you giggle, he’d sprinted back to the House of Lamentation to begin devouring joke book after joke book to ensure his chances of getting to hear it again. Hearing his brothers criticize him for acting like a fool had always been something that bothered him in the past, but your arrival had put a spin on things —if amping up his antics was something that got you to crack a smile, he was all for being the butt of his brothers’ jokes. “How’d you know?”

He grins. “What did ya expect? I mean, I was your first, right? Your first demon. Which means we share a special sorta bond! I know these things!”

Another laugh. Mammon wonders if he should shoot for a third time, but you don't give him the chance to try. “Listen, Mammon...it was great hearing from you, but I have to go.” The bitter taste of disappointment fills his mouth. He’d been looking forward to this phone call with the eagerness of a child awaiting to open their Christmas presents...and you had to leave already? The two of you had barely even talked for 5 minutes! That’s so unfair! “What? Already? C’mon, we barely got to talk—”

His whine of complaint cuts off abruptly when he picks up on the sound of someone else’s voice on your end of the call. Curious, Mammon turns up the volume of the call and strains his ears. It’s a male’s voice, one that sounds awfully familiar… He frowns. “Is that Solomon?”

“Yeah! We’ve been hanging out a lot more ever since we returned to the Human World! Keeping each other company and all that. Let me just pass him my DDD, I think he wants to say hi—”

“Nah, don’t bother. Y’all have fun, I’ll talk to you again soon.” Mammon hangs up before you can get the chance to say anything else and flops back against the pillow pile on his unmade bed with a sigh. Solomon, huh? The two of you sticking together made sense —after all, you were the only two humans living in a realm of demons for an entire year. Of course you would form a bond over this shared experience. Still, the idea of you hanging out with Solomon frequently didn’t sit well with him. He was your first, if anyone should be hanging out with you, it should be him.

Envy was Levi’s thing, not his. But there was no stopping the jealousy that was blossoming in his chest. In an attempt to keep his emotions in check, Mammon powers on his DDD and pulls up the voice message that you’d left him a few months ago. You were still residing in the Devildom then, back when he didn’t have to resort to playing back an old voicemail to make him feel less lonely.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that you’re lying in bed beside him, and not by someone else’s side an entire realm away.

♪ I heard all the rumors

I didn't want to believe it

You barely mentioned her once

I didn't think anything of it

Sitting there on my driveway

Said you could listen to me all night

Now you're the boy who never meant it

And I'm just the girl who "took it all the wrong way" ♪

You’d always been fascinated by the sports car that he kept permanently parked in the upper floor of his bedroom. The both of you had gotten into a playful argument over justifying the reason behind his “absurd decision” (your words, not his). Out of the dozens of possible reasons that they’d managed to come up with during the hour or so their discussion had lasted, your personal favourite had been “to allow a quick escape from one of Lucifer’s extensive monologues”. He hadn’t even bothered to come up with a counterargument for that. One, it wasn’t entirely false; he wouldn’t deny that getting behind the driver’s seat in order to get away from one of the peacock’s pointless lectures wasn’t a thought that had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. And secondly...the expression that you wore while you were coming up with all of these ridiculous thoughts was just too cute. Your brow would furrow in concentration, and your tongue would peek out between her lips —you looked just like the cats that starred in those “cat blepping” videos that Satan would relentlessly spam his DDD with. The way your face lit up when you’d thought of a reason satisfactory enough for your standards was even more adorable —Mammon knew that as long as you kept directing that megawatt grin at him, he’d go along with anything that you said.

At some point during their conversation, the two of you had  relocated from the couch you were perched on to the backseat of his car. Mammon doesn’t even remember whose idea it was to move in the first place —he couldn’t recall if this was the result of you pleading with him to allow you to take a better look at the vehicle or if he’d suggested it to you first. He doesn’t even remember what the both of you had talked about once you’d gotten in the car; the topic of their conversation had switched course multiple times. What was etched into his mind’s eye for the rest of time, however, was how attentively you’d gazed up at him when he was talking. You seemed as mesmerised by his words as he was by yours. The notion that someone genuinely wanted to listen to everything that he had to say felt foreign to him; his brothers had brushed him off as nonsensical and annoying a long time ago. You made him feel important.

“...Mammon! HEY, STUPIDMAMMON! Did you even hear anything I just said? Sheesh…”

Mammon’s train of thought is derailed by a pillow that hits him square in the face. Normally, such an action would trigger a rowdy pillow fight that usually ended in Lucifer barging in and bringing an early end to an evening of fun. But today Mammon was so lost in recollections of the past that he barely even kicks up a fuss as he peels the cushion off his face. “Huh?” Levi raises an eyebrow at the second born from where he’s seated across the room. Mammon could be a moron at times, but rarely was he this unaware of his surroundings. “I said, did you see MC’s latest Devilgram post? They were at this Human World anime convention with Solomon, you know the one I told you about last week? The one that Ruri-chan’s voice actress was going to appear at? MC’s soooooooo lucky that they got to see her perform live. I can’t believe Lucifer wouldn’t let me go, it’s so unfair…”

Mammon usually tuned out of the conversation entirely whenever Levi starts going off on a tangent about something related to his animes, but the mention of your name had caught his attention. You were at a convention? With Solomon? Like...on a date? Mammon snatches up his DDD from where it’s lying on the armrest of his seat and loads up your Devilgram page. As usual, the sight of your bright smile is enough to cause his heart to skip a beat —you’re so breathtakingly beautiful that it’s unfair. But the sight of the male posing beside you in the picture causes his mood to turn sour quickly. Solomon. Was that the human sorcerer’s arm around your waist?

Flipping his DDD over so that he doesn’t have to look at the screen, he sets it back down on the armrest with enough force that it actually causes Levi to cut his ramble short mid sentence. Pretending that he didn’t notice the odd look that Levi was giving him, Mammon settles back in his seat and closes his eyes.

If there was something going on between you and Solomon, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know about it.

♪ On that October night when I let you go

You didn't even try to make me stay, no

I didn't know that you could be so cold

Like the Minnesota snow

Somehow I always knew we'd end up this way

And I hope you feel happy someday

I just wanted you to open up to me

But now that's on the list of things you never did ♪

Mammon had spent the last couple of months waiting for this moment. You were back. Back in the Devildom, back in your room in the House of Lamentation, back by his side. A new semester of classes was something he’d never looked forward to in the past, but things were different this time. A new school term brought copious amounts of coursework and misery, sure, but it also brought you back to the Devildom. You’d returned from your vacation in the Human World with bright eyes and rosy cheeks, armed with souvenirs for each and every one of your favourite demons. Mammon was thrilled by the small paper bag bulging with keychains and other assorted trinkets that you’d thrusted into his hands, but the one gift that he’d appreciated the most was the warm embrace that you’d pulled him into.

The next few days pass in a blur, with Mammon still finding it difficult to believe that you’ve really returned (he has to keep pinching his arm to reassure himself that this isn’t a cruel joke that his subconscious is playing on him). He'd been there to greet you upon your arrival in the Devildom. And he’d seen you during meals and passed by you in the hallways...but he hadn’t actually gotten the opportunity to spend proper one on one time with you —you were too busy settling in and making up for lost time with everyone else. Until now. 

Seated atop of a hill overlooking the rest of the Devildom, the vantage point gives the both of you a spectacular view of the expansive shopping district. You can even spot the town’s affectionately dubbed “party central” —also known as the area where most of the popular bars and clubs are located— in the distance; or at the very least, the colourful lights that illuminate every building in that part of town. It’s quite a sight to behold, but the hustle and bustle that can be seen even from a distance makes you appreciative of the fact that you and Mammon are far away from the crowds of Denizens enjoying an evening out. You shiver when a passing gust of wind rustles the leaves of the tree overlooking the bench you’re seated on.

“Cold? Let the GREAT Mammon warm ya up.” Before you can even roll your eyes at the suggestive nature of that statement, Mammon has shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it snugly around you. Not that you’re entirely surprised by his words at this point, this isn’t the first time he used that line with you. Just like every other time he’s done this, he doesn’t remove his arm afterwards, keeping it draped around your shoulders. But unlike the previous times he’s pulled this stunt, you don’t nestle into his side, or even lean your head against his shoulder. He feels a pang in his chest, but he refuses to let it show on his face. “So how was your vacation in the Human World? I bet it had to be pretty borin’ without the GREAT Mammon there to keep ya company.”

“It was alright.” A pause. “Listen, Mammon...There’s something that I need to tell you.”

The smile that Mammon’s attempting to keep plastered to his face wavers, but he nods at you in encouragement as you chew on your lower lip anxiously. When your next course of action is to raise up your left hand instead of carrying on the conversation, his brows knit together in confusion. He’s about to ask if this was some kind of odd ritual and whether or not you’d joined a cult in your absence, but then he spots it. The glint of silver on your ring finger.

His jaw drops.

Noticing the expression on his face, you hurry to clear up any misunderstandings before he —understandably— jumps to the wrong conclusion. “It’s not what you think! I’m not engaged or anything, it’s just a promise ring. Solomon and I...we got together two weeks ago. I meant to tell everyone, but everything’s been so crazy ever since I got back —I’ve barely had the time to catch my breath, let alone make such a big announcement.. But now that thing’s have quieted down a little...I wanted to tell you first. After all, you are my first demon.”

The Avatar of Greed was uncharacteristically quiet as you rambled on. When he finally speaks up again, his voice lacks the boisterous energy that usually radiates from him. “I am, aren’t I?”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, but there’s no humour in the sound. “You should head back to the house without me. I’ll catch up.”

“Mammon—”

“Look, don’t worry ‘bout me. I’m fine.” Mammon takes both of your hands in his and gazes up at you with earnest wide eyes, as if his overexaggerated acting skills were enough to sell his words to you. Ridiculous as it may be, his ploy seemed to work —or perhaps you just didn’t care enough about the hailstorm of emotional turmoil that flickered in his azure hued gaze. It didn’t matter. Either way, you were gone before Mammon could change his mind and convince you to not to leave him. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and blurs his field of vision, but he doesn’t take his gaze off of you as you disappear down the path that leads to the House of Lamentation.

You don’t even bother to turn around and look at him.

♪ Maybe sometimes things just have to end

Maybe sometimes there's just no explaining it

But you could've let me know

You'd be moving on

You'd be moving on

You'd be moving on before Octobers gone ♪

[hateswifi]

Rising from the Ashes: Of Graduation and Growth

So this is Part Thirteen here is to my Master List and Part Twelve.

——————————————

Marinette started growing after her first commission with the help of Diana, Lucky Spot became a headquarters for Nette's clothes. She did originals for celebrities only really unless asked for a special event such as a wedding and only for a good price and she couldn't be swamped in commission. Bruce offered her a small part of Wayne Enterprises as a factor because she was using all earth-friendly material and was good publicity. She, at first, refused but unable to keep up with demands accepted Bruce's offer. There was a public announcement and signing of the contract between Wayne Enterprises and Nette, but being dead, she sent Diana as her representative to sign for her. She was well known throughout America and Asia with popularity moving towards Europe. She was getting better known as Nette even more popular than MDC had ever been.

This made knowing Nette a perfect lie for Lila without Marinette around to try and expose her, little did Lila know her Castle of Lies would soon fall. That's how the announcement of a field trip to Gotham happened a couple of weeks before graduation; they were to leave the day of graduation. This is the field trip plan she had come up with before she 'died', but Lila took credit for it all because she became Class President after Marinette's death. Chloe and Adrien didn't bother to pay attention to where the group was going. They didn't realize or care where the class was going because they were leaving to go on tour from graduation. Well first they were going to visit Marinette she was going to reveal herself soon, after coming up with a cover story if she was ever asked about her 'death'.

Adrien graduated valedictorian, which Lila cried about due to it being unfair with her 'disability', Alya threw a fit for her 'bestie'. There was nothing they could change though because Gabriel would have the school board's heads. After the graduation caps been thrown and pictures had been taken, the 4 Outlaws travel to see their dear friend once again, little did they know the class would soon be following them the next day. Lila spread more lies about knowing the Wayne family and her childhood sweetheart Damian along with her best friend Nette.

Back in Gotham with Marinette, she was getting ready for the release of the line 'Butterfly' and the gala that was to follow the next day. Her friends were coming to watch the release and they offered to model because they inspired most of the outfits. She had been spending extra time at Wayne Enterprises, one so Damian didn't murder anyone --a lot was going on-- and two to monitor the production to be released. All the outfits in the actual show were handmaid by Marinette and would be auctioned off at the end to give to a charity.

There was a mix of excited chatter on the plan with the class."I can't wait to get that interview with your boyfriend," Alya exclaimed. oblivious to how irritated the Italian girl had become. "Also I can't believe you managed to get us a tour of Wayne Enterprises, which now includes Nette's factory, along with her fashion show AND the gala. Maybe you can get me an interview with Nette being her best friend. Also, is Damian asking you to the gala?"

"I worked extra hard to get us this trip. Something our old Class President couldn't do. I don't think my Damiboo will do an interview he is shy, so I don't know if we'll be able to see him. I don’t know if he’s taking me to the gala, he’s shy," Lila lied, crossing her arms letting a tear fall. "I still can't believe they had the nerve to tell me I am not in first class."

"Ya girl, I can't believe they would treat, Ladybug's best friend, Jagged Stone's niece, and Damian's Wayne's girlfriend that way." Alya huffed. "Hey, you should ask Damian to sue because you've been treated so badly."

"I'll ask him when I see him," Lila said, putting in headphones while thinking to herself. 'Maybe if I sleep I won't have to deal with this obnoxious girl.'

The plane ride lasted eight hours, which Lila had to listen to Alya babble, about only god know what. When they had gotten outside it was raining and the class tried to hail a taxi.

"Lila. I thought you made plans for how we would travel," Ms. Bustier asked, trying to sound nice through gritted teeth. A car drove by and splashed Lila and Alya, the girls shrieked getting covered in the dirty street water.

"I swear I did," Lila explained, now dripping in the water she started to cry. "They must have been some mistake, they must have canceled on me."

"It's fine Lila, the hotel isn't too far right?" Alya comforted rubbing the top of her back.

"It's about a three-mile walk from here," Lila whimpered between tears.

"We can walk, right Ms. Bustier?" Alya said, hugging the poor Italian.

"I suppose, but Lila you have to make accommodations for tomorrow's tour," Ms. Bustier said as she got the kids to follow her.

Luka was looking out the window of the Outlaw’s limo when he saw his sister's unfortunate class. "Guys! look. Pullover," Luka said looking away from the window.

"Who's there?" Chloe asks moving towards where Luka had been looking. Before Chloe could argue with Luka's decision, he was opening the door.

"You guys need a ride," Luka asked, looking specifically on his sister, they hadn't been on good terms since he had been kicked from Kitty Section.

"Why would we want to hang out with bullies like you!?" Alya exclaimed as Lila was about to accept the offer.

"Juleka are you staying warm and dry?" Luka asked, ignoring Alya.

"She is fine," Alya cut in again.

"It's fine Alya, they're trying to make up for their mistakes," Lila said, stepping forward with her bag following behind her.

"Ya know what," Chloe says, angrily. "We are not bullies and you're all in for a surprise."

"How many of you want a ride from us 'bullies'?" Kagami asks.

"If you're good with Adrien and Luka, you're good in my book," Juleka says, pushing past her classmates and got into the limo. Alix and Kim get in the dry limo while everyone else agreed with Lila, the liar, walk to the hotel in the cold rain.

As the limo drove away Lila started crying, "That was supposed to be our limo, they must have bribed the company to give it to them."

"Those bastards!" Alya screamed and stormed faster towards the hotel.

Back in the limo "So you guys know the truth about Lila's lie?" Kagami asks leaning into the seat.

"Yes, we've known for a while, but couldn't do anything in school," Kim says.

"But now since we've graduated we're done putting up with her bull," Alix huffs, crossing her arms.

"Besides we know Marinette planned this trip and there's no way that we're going to let her work go to waste by Lila's lies," Juleka says, putting her head on her brother's shoulder.

"We're actually on our way to see her," Adrien says sleepily into Kagami's shoulder.

"What... What do you mean?" Kim asks sitting forwards.

"Ignore him," Kagami says, elbowing him.

"No is she alive? We thought she.... she well ya know," Alix said.

"Nah she just moved," Adrien said with a big yawn.

"Shut your boyfriend up Gami," Chloe said harshly.

"She's alive?!!" Juleka said whipping her head forward.

"You can't say anything. She came here for a reason, heck she probably forgot about your trip or she would've had Damian, her boyfriend, cancel the tours," Luka said, shaking his head.

"She's alive, but why did she leave?" Kim asks heartbroken.

"It was kind of a rash decision on her, but she is our friend and we were supporting her," Chloe explains.

"She'll probably explain everything if you run into her at the factory. If not we'll explain everything later," Luka said, looking out the window.

"Looks like this is your destination," Kagami said, looking down at her ringing phone. "Hey, Mar. Yes, we're on our way. We got stuck in traffic we'll be there soon." Luka started opening the door for the group to exit as Gami hung up. "Jagged is waiting for us. She wants to go through fittings before dinner tonight."

"Well sorry this was cut short, but we'll see you soon," Luka said through the open window after he closed the door.

"You may go," Chloe said to the driver. Luka put up the window as the small group headed into the hotel. The Outlaws decided not to tell Marinette about her class and their field trip because she didn't need any more stress.

————————————————————

Tag list (Open):

@northernbluetongue @melhuney @ladysblackcat @sturchling @otaku4312 @g-arya @smolplantmum @bluefyoto94 @echpr @moonlightstar64 @thesunanditsangel @cutechip @heaven428 @elmokingkong @kass-is-weird @niza13149 @urbanpineapplefarmer @ginamarie1512 @chocolatecatstheron @iggy-of-fans @crazylittlemunchkin @komatsuna-yuki @weird-pale-blonde-person @ellerahs @sinnamonroill @daminett4life @queenmj10 @indecisive-mess-named-me @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @lizziejay @random-posts-and-stuff @purplesundaze

[molnlycke]

100 DAYS OF SUNLIGHT BY ABBIE EMMONS REVIEW

As a disclaimer I want to say that I found the Youtube channel of Abbie Emmons by one of her ‘write with me’ videos. Following that I watched some of her WritersLifeWednesdays vlogs and thought, this woman has tremendous passion and work put into her craft. She actually gives valuable advice, and the themes of her videos are pretty good. So when I saw that she has a novel of her own published, I wanted to see how she incorporates the stuff she talks about into practical work. This is how I started reading her debut novel: 100 Days of Sunlight.

I was curious, okay?

But oh man, what is this?

This book… I’m sorry it’s just so bad. The mess of glaring problems, plotholes, the …characterisation. Abbie Emmons says every good story is character driven (which I wholeheartedly stand by if it is executed well!!!) but what should I get from this, honestly?

There are too many things screaming PROBLEMATIC here.

But let’s start at the beginning.

The exposition––the first chapter’s building don’t make no sense. It has a twist in it alright, but why start with something that turns out to be a dream (or a scrap of a memory in this case) of the actual past, only to get dumped with everything else that also happened following that scene? All of this is told from the protagonist’s reminiscing of said happening.

- To be clear the book starts with the scene of an accident–the accident in which the protagonist, Tessa loses her sight. A drunk driver with a pickup truck runs the red light crashing into the car Tessa and her grandmother are in. Soon it turns out that’s only a recurring nightmare and she’s been home for one or two weeks (maybe? I don’t remember precisely). By this time she has already lost her sight. Tessa runs the audience over all that happened after the accident (basically in those weeks she got discharged from the hospital etc. etc.) Now my question is why not start the book from the accident itself? It all gets narrated either way.

The next problem is the way first Tessa’s grandparents, and then the WHOLE BOOK just downplays consent. Why? Why would you do that?

- Tessa’s grandparents “know better what’s good for her than she does”–that’s an actual quote from the novel btw. Nothing glaringly alerting in that, I mean adults often have this way of thinking about children. Until… they try to arrange a stranger to help Tessa with transcribing her work. Tessa is a poet with a blog where she posts her work on schedule. Ever since the accident, she doesn’t feel like writing (or blogging for that matter). She’s shut herself off from the virtual world, doesn’t touch her laptop, nor speaks with her internet friends. (Because ofc she’s homeschooled, doesn’t like to go out at all and only has internet friends in the first place.) She’s in her room for most of the day, cries a lot and tries to cope. Whether her coping is good or bad I’m not qualified to say, but she thinks of herself as selfish, lazy, cynical, and depressed most of the time––everything she never wanted to be, things hates with every fibre of her being. She blames herself and basically detests life for beating her down to the ground. She feels she can’t get up even though she’s told, her blindness is a condition that can go away in ninety-something days’ time. I think feeling these emotions are pretty reasonable for a teenager. It’s been like three weeks since the accident, and her newfound blind perspective of life. That can’t be easy. BUT her grandparents know this isn’t healthy, Tessa needs to write. “I haven’t written one verse, one line, one word of poetry. I have no desire to. I have no inspiration, no joy. It’s all gone.” - Tessa from ch.1 So what do Granny and Gramps do following their infinite wisdom? Play the girl. And I’m like, sure dude, harass the child into doing what you want. Sure, don’t try to get her professional help or a psychotherapeutist or something if you think she’s faring so terribly. Sure, run an ad for hiring some part timer to transcribe for the poet who doesn’t want to write anymore. Sure, do it all behind her back. I mean she has PTSD and is blind for now, but yeah, this will most definitely help. Good job! For goodness’ sake they treat the girl like she’s been locked inside her room for months?!

When they share this brilliant plan with Tessa, she freaks out so much the elderly retract the ad. But not before the son of the newspaper’s owner gets a scrap of this new, possible past time activity and decides to be a creep and essentially stalk Tessa. But that’s for later.

Tessa explicitly tells her grandparents she doesn’t want to meet new people, doesn’t want to write, what she needs is time. So the next thing Granny does is pushes an unknown, teenage boy into her blind granddaughter’s room for a chat. Against Tessa’s repeated objections! There’s so much nonsense going on in the sequence of the story. Like one day there comes a boy–a stranger, knocking on the door, saying he’s this and this’ son and wants to help. And because, at a glance, he has prosthetic legs, you invite him first into the house then into your blind teenage granddaughter’s room? Without actually knowing if he is who he says he is? Without knowing the first thing about him? But even if that part is true, and he is who he says–the son of the newspaper’s owner, let’s not forget the mildly stalkerish way the guy’s been acting.

Granny shares a shit load about Tessa’s problems, then flat out tells her to meet Weston. “I told you I don’t want help. And I certainly don’t want anyone touching my laptop. I don’t want to write. I don’t want some stranger coming into my house and feeling sorry for me!” That’s Tessa speaking with Granny prior to the meeting. I mean it’s no biggie if she’s against the whole idea because he could help, right? Is this the American way of handling things? Someone give me a spoon that I can boink myself in the head with to get around this type of mentality.

At the first meeting Tessa has meltdown, screams at Weston and cries. Tells him she doesn’t need help. Tells him not to bother. Tells him she wants him OUT OF HER ROOM. Weston leaves before telling her he’ll be back the next day. And Granny and everyone else is fine with that. So in the following days the nuisance has the audacity to come over, small-talk the grandparents into loving him because he’s so charming everyone is in love with him a little. (That’s another thing from the book, I shit you not, the dude straight up thinks things like this. Yes, I know it’s self-deceit.) Weston forcibly takes over Tessa’s room which is basically the last place she feels comfortable at? Never mind, now someone’s popping in randomly when they think it’s cool, telling her what to do––“I know you don’t need me. But you need to write.” Bitch I think you need to fuck off from people’s lives who don’t want you in it. Just an advice.

One time Tessa wakes up to Weston barging into her room (“...he walks into my room without knocking, at 9.00 a.m., when I’m still in my pajamas”). Granny’s off to do her things leaving the boy to stay and make himself at home. Huh, quite reasonable.

Weston forces Tessa to accept there’s no fleeing this situation––one, the three of them (him and the oldies) constructed for her. Because it’s helping.

That’s basically the question of: where’s the line between wanting to help someone and pushing them even deeper when they’re already at a bad place. But since this is a YA romance everything is nice and good and sorted at the end so Tessa can thank her loving family for forcing their volition on her.

- Here’s another lovely example of consent portrayed in the novel: “I told you I don’t want to go outside.” Weston laughs. “You also told me to get out of your house and never come back.” “And you directly disobeyed my wishes.” “And you’ve been enjoying it...” Please tell me I’m not the only one seeing what’s wrong with this whole dialogue. It’s so disappointing and frankly, discouraging, to see an attitude like this written by a woman, targeted at a young, female audience.

- Oh, there’s their first kiss as well. It’s really really romantic. Weston asks for permission then doesn’t wait for the answer! “I’m gonna kiss you. Is that okay?” It’s not fair, because I don’t give her any time to reply. Instead, I press my lips against hers. Without permission.” ...So why did he even bother to ask? To seem nice? Well, as the saying goes it’s the thought that counts… So is this how consent works? NO! But consent never stood a chance in this book at the first place.

Next up; Characters.

*not @me side-eyeing Abbie’s video about how to craft a strong female protagonist* - I’m not gonna say a lot about Tessa. For me she falls flat like a cut-out. She’s paper thin, and dumb, although she’s the novel’s protagonist. Funny though, I feel she has less to give to the story than Weston, and it’s not just the length of their respective chapters. There’s like 600-700 words from Tessa’s POV (mainly about Weston 80% of the times), then we get a 4k word count chapter from Weston (mainly about his own journey and overcoming his struggles). Tessa’s chapters are either shallow or about her time spent with Weston. Opposed to this Weston has a full arc of him getting over the loss of his legs and standing up from it (quite literally). See what I’m talking about? All I get from Tessa before the accident is that she’s a writer, homeschooled, likes her colour coordinated books, and waffles (like Abbie ha!) (*whispers* and she wears her hair in a messy bun, ofc she does). Oh and she can’t live without WiFi. All I get after the accident is that she’s hurting, angry and blind. And now she has Weston. So her backstory is…..?

- Weston. Oh man where to start. Now he has a backstory. From it we can conclude how idiotic he is. That’s not recklessness or being a teenage boy. I’m sorry but his behaviour is simply idiotic. Sometimes he’s really grown up (taking care of his baby brothers and all) other times he has like 1 (one) braincell operating in his head. Bearing weeks of pain, and not saying anything about it to anyone because that’s not superhero like? WHAT??? He experienced, at the least, three weeks of torturous pain and several days of fever and dizziness, popping Advil like it’s candy. Still, the only one who realised this is his best friend at school and his 10 year old brother who was at the scene of Weston injuring his legs in the first place. What about the parents one might ask. Well Idk. Obviously a 13 year old is so good at deception and sneaking around that adults can’t catch on! On this note I want to gift Parents of the Year Award to Mamma and Pappa Ludovico. With parental supervision like that I’m baffled the child lived up to the age 13.

Weston is the nightmare male lead people usually salivate after in k-dramas stuffed into the body of a 16 year old American boy. Now I’ve never understood those people and their preferences of the bratty, entitled, but oh-so-handsome males and I still don’t understand to this day. Where’s the appeal? Don’t ask me.

I’ll just put down some quotes: “It’s the first time in three years anyone has ever met me without that look of pity on their face. The first time anyone has ever looked at me and not seen me. The first time anyone has stood before me—with perfectly normal legs—and complained about their own problem. The feeling is exhilarating.” So basically this is the so called ‘No one has ever treated me like this. Except this girl, my God, she’s intriguing’. Weston enjoys Tessa’s rude behaviour. “So she’s stubborn. She’s rude. She’s a spitfire wallflower who lost her sight and now hates anyone who tries to help her. Game on.” ...Are you five? “Tessa is the only Dickinson who doesn’t like me.” I have no idea why that could be. But, listen, listen: “I turn around in the desk chair, throwing her a hard look over my shoulder. She’s still sitting rigid and stoic on her bed, staring at nothing. She’s actually really pretty. Her eyes are bluer than mine—the enhanced kind of blue you see in contact lens commercials. She has freckles, too. Just a few, thrown across her nose and cheeks. Her hair is braided today, less messy. She looks so serious. I liked it better when she was screaming and crying.” Idk somehow this sounds like every badly composed romance I’ve ever seen. Let’s just say the progression of the relationship between Weston and Tessa infuriated me 90% of the story. You can help others without being an ass. You can also help others without being a horrible love interest, but that’s for another day. YA contemporaries don’t work like that.

Oh Weston, what a knight in shining armour. Three years prior, he had this thing with Clara Hernandez–a girl from school. It wasn’t real dating but they spent some time together (he walked her to class ooooh~~~) so she became “at the time, my unofficial girlfriend”. Things change after Weston’s accident, of course. He tells her he doesn’t want to continue their ambiguous relationship. And that’s alright, it’s his choice, BUT he then kind of passes the girl to his best friend, so she won’t annoy him anymore? The way he narrates the whole thing is...ugh. “But she wasn’t even dumping me, and we weren’t even dating. We were thirteen years old, for crying out loud.” See, this is Weston thinking about what happened. And this is him telling Rudy about it: “What were you talking to Clara about?” he (Rudy) asked. “I dumped her.” Following in another chapter they talk about how now that the coast is clear––Weston and Clara are through, Rudy should hit on Clara: “He wanted to resist the whole thing and deny his obvious crush on Clara Hernandez. But he couldn’t do anything except laugh and shake his head. He knew I was the best friend he could ever ask for.” Such a kind and caring person for handing out the girl he doesn’t really want to his best friend. Give him a medal for that one. Idk this whole business irked me to no end, like Clara was his possession or something. (Yeah, and the poor girl eventually ended up with Rudy, not like she had any other choice…)

- Downplaying female friendship. Yeah, that one happens as well. When Tessa talks with her friends (her blogging circle) the only thing we as readers can glimpse about their conversation is “Tell us more about the boy,” like... really? Because once again that’s the only thing a group of friends can talk about when one of them suffers an accident resulting in trauma. And Tessa’s answer? “At first, I didn’t like him. I thought he didn’t understand anything about me—even though he acted like he did. And I’m not sure that he understands much, even now. But he’s kind. And patient. And he kept coming back to type poetry for me, so I’ve kind of been forced to make friends with him.” The reply of her friends… “Aw ... He sounds really cute.” Yeah, really cute, forcing you to be friends with him. “How can you not be in love with a boy who makes you waffles?” Well, friend no.5, it’s not that hard… But there’s more. After Tessa gets her sight back the only thing we get from this supporting bubble of warm friends is as follows: “LIV: TESSA HOW ARE YOU FEELING ME: a lot better actually ME: my headache FINALLY went away MARIA: yayy!! ALLISON: PRAISE THE LORD ME: yeah fr KATE: So glad to hear you’re doing better, Tessa! It must be quite a transition omg… GRACIE: I can’t even imagine ME: it’s been pretty crazy ME: but good ME: I guess ME: ugh idk mixed emotions LIV: ???? LIV: TELL US EVERYTHING LIV: if u want to lol ME: ahhh well ME: Weston is kind of not talking to me anymore,” That is it my friends. Two to three sentences about her condition and it’s time to talk about the boy. Is this really how shallow anyone would want to describe the protagonist and her close-knit group of friends talking for the first time after one of them lost their sight? Then again, talking for the first time after she got her sight back? I’m disappointed to say the least.

- I didn’t care for any other character enough to jot down my observations. They were bland, they were there to help the main couple, nothing more, nothing less. Weston’s kid brothers were cute and Rudy seemed like a normal, sane character (I applaud him for that). All I can say is the families in this novel are something else.

The romance.

Okay, let me state before anything else: I like romance if there’s balance. I like romance when the people involved are equals. I believe a relationship, and a good one at that, should have cornerstones. One of them has to be that equality. It also doesn’t hurt if none of the involved parties are assholes. The romance can be of any trope as long as the happy ending is tied to said relationship being healthy. And I don’t mean sorely the end product; the way that relationship is constructed step by step should resemble these things. If not, at least call them out for it. I’m not the advocate of perfect characters or relationships (any kind, not just romance) because that would be really unrealistic. It can be bad, yeah, it can be toxic, or a little messed up in the middle. But for crying out loud reflect that in the storytelling! Do it especially if the story is planned for a younger audience! Now let me make another statement: What I don’t like is that in mostly American YA het-romances there are rarely any of these things.

- This one here is probably supposed to be the writer’s well liked trope of hate-to-love romance, but I feel the concept of kindergarteners is more fitting. The boy forces, the girl yields. But it’s okay because he likes her and wants to help.

There are some cases of harassment sprinkled in, as in one party objecting the other’s closeness or presence and the latter not giving a damn about this. Real respectful; but, hey, that’s part of consent too so I guess it simply flew over our heads in this particular story. A fresh and original concept on romance, wholesome and healthy. And the thing is, Weston actually knows these things. He literally says so in the book, “...until I intruded on Tessa’s life, however it happened.”

And of course Tessa is more pure than fresh snow on white lillies; she’s basically a lotus. Weston is the first boy stepping into her room. Give me a second to freak out about that. It’s so exciting! (Mostly by knowing the circumstances in which he did that.)

The other thing that annoyed me was Weston’s entitlement and holier-than-thou attitude. He knows everything better than Tessa. He knows Tessa better than she herself does WHEN HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT HER. That’s the moral of the story. No, but I’m not kidding, some of his thoughts set me on fire. “She wrote about sunlight and oceans and falling in love, when I’m pretty sure she has no idea what it feels like to fall in love.” I’m sorry, but do you know Tessa? (besides stalking her via the grandparents)???? The audacity, I’m cackling.

- Can someone tell me why Tessa speaks with Weston if she doesn’t want to? I mean besides that this way the story can go on. She actually starts their conversation on the second day. Me, personally, don’t talk to people whose presence I can barely tolerate. How silly, I know.

- Weston annoys the shit put of Tessa for like five minutes but he talks to her, (for his own selfish reasons may I add––Weston, honey, if you want people not to pity you try helping blind little kids who actually want your help) and brings her flowers, and chocolate so I guess it’s reasonable that approximately four days later Tessa’s attitude shifts to comparing him to sunlight. “Weston is everything And all at once. Weston is gentle And harsh. Weston can be blindingly bright But then he can also be Delicately soft. Weston is a paradox.” – Oof girl.

- Let me tell you kids just because someone annoys or teases you and you tolerate it––that’s not the get-go to life changing love. Even though he’s the first real life boy whom you’ve ever spent casual time with. But he’s the first boy who ever showed you real attention, you say. Well then, that’s a grace girls have to accept. Or so this book and so many others try to make us believe. The sad thing is, there actually could’ve been a conflict––if one wants to write about opposites attracting each other so much––without making the story so cliched and weak.

Plot-holes.

- Maybe it’s nitpicking for some, BUT… why was Weston in his dad’s office in the first place? I never got around to the reason of that. He loiters around there once a week, that’s what the book states. Well, okay, he is there inspecting the motivational quotes collection on the wall while his father just works away. And am I supposed to believe the man is all cool with this? What is Weston doing there? For what reason? The answer is easy: he simply had to hear the phone call of Tessa’s grandfather retracting the ad.

- Now why does his father–the owner of the newspaper–accept calls regarding ads in the first place? Is this really how things work? Other employees do nothing? I’ve worked at a small printing company in the past. The management only accepted calls regarding ads if there wasn’t a single soul anywhere near the perimeter of the office. There’s a department for jobs like this. Bosses don’t qualify.

- About the already mentioned beautiful first meeting, where sparks fly, and the lovely couple can roll off a great start... If Tessa didn’t want to meet anyone why didn’t she lock her door? That’s a pretty easy task. At first I thought maybe there’s no lock on the door. But wait; after the disastrous meeting she locks herself away. “The door is locked, and Grandma has stopped trying to open it.” Sooo there was a lock after all…...okay…….

- Why is almost everyone in this book freckled with blonde hair and blue eyes? Okay, this really is just nitpicking, but like, is there some symbolism in that? *bounces eyebrows* Ehem, if you know what I mean.

- I’m not sure if this is an actual plot-hole but I was really surprised by the lack of anxiety Weston’s approach triggered in Tessa. Essentially, Weston is a stranger at the start of the book, with whom she gets locked into a room, without anyone else in there, when she’s still adjusting to the fact she can’t see. I especially looked out for it; Weston closes her door every time he’s over at their house to speak with her. I mean the first time she’s angry; but what about later? She doesn’t even seem nervous or affected by this at a time when her blindness is still fresh. Yet, when they go to Barnes & Noble, a public space with people around, Tessa is anxious the minute Weston leaves for a bathroom break. Like okay, some strange dude tries to pick her up and she’s rightfully terrified, but all she has to do is call out. Now both of these scenes are pressuring and scary, but where’s the difference? Tessa is nervous when the stranger approaches her in the book store, a big and open space with people around even before said stranger tries to initiate skinship. She tells him to leave her alone. But she did just that when Weston first went to see her. And Weston didn’t give a shit about it, much like the high schooler at the book store. And I’m supposed to believe with Weston she wasn’t apprehensive at all? Of course she wasn’t… he’s the love interest.

The whole book store scene makes me so uncomfortable and NOT because of what you’d think. It’s simply distasteful to create a scenario like that only to draw it back to… yes, you guessed it, Weston. He’s the saviour sweeping Tessa off her feet with “Get your hands off my girl” and chasing away that jerk. Why is it that still, in the year of *looks at smudged handwriting on hand* sometime past the 1890s there’s the need to use The Jerk™ hitting on the girl and The Nice Guy™ saving her by making her seem like his property? Oh did I forgot to mention the jerk smelled like cigarettes, and his pants were falling off his ass. I’m surprised he wasn’t wearing a leather jacket or had piercings just to fit the look to a T. That usage of my girl ...ugrghgh I can already feel white hairs sprouting from this. Look, I’m not against the idea of belonging to your beloved. If you want to say it, cool, do it. But when it’s not consensual, and you’re not a couple who already expressed to one another the wish to be viewed that way maybe DON’T FUCKING USE IT. Not to one up another guy trying scare the baddie away. Man, don’t do that. *channelling my inner LE to rap the last line really loud* What’s even better than this? Tessa’s reaction: “Despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but smile and get butterflies all over again.” REALLY???? Please donate braincells to this girl. She really needs it.

The dynamic of relationships.

- This is mind bogging for me. Almost all relations (excluding the most fundamental ones) serve a sole reason: cheer on and make the main couple happen. This book is promoted as a love story, one, not limited to romance. It’s a love story of family bonds, love between brothers, and grandparents, and friends. And that’s true for Weston… but for Tessa??? I don’t think so. But maybe that stems from how underdeveloped Tessa’s character is.

- The main couple’s dynamic is so stilted. Weston basically caused the state he is in, Tessa suffered an accident caused by outer circumstances. She’s the victim of a drunk driver, while quite frankly, Weston’s the victim of his own stupidity. And yet, since Weston decided to fight for himself he expects Tessa to do the same. Now that’s a nice thought, even if it’s about someone you barely know and met maybe two times in your life. Is that a reason to harass the other and tell them what to do, not taking no for an answer? I highly doubt it. Weston wanted to get better so he pressed himself, but he made that choice himself. It’s beautifully written down not once, not twice, but multiple times; how hard it was for him to choose between 1, the easy way––the flat grounded desert and 2, the hard scaling and rocky mountain range. He chose the mountain range and that’s admirable. What’s not admirable is, that from what I get from this book, Tessa never had the luxury of a choice. Because other’s never gave her time or let her decide for herself. Tessa says Weston is stubborn and obnoxiously optimistic. I think he’s just obnoxious, period.

- At the end of the book Tessa narrates how ashamed she feels and how her heart is breaking “Because of what Life has done to Weston.” For one, is Life responsible for what happened to Weston? I’d liked to read about how Weston tells the story of losing his legs to Tessa with a straight face, because all thorough the book he never once did that. To anyone. If that happened, he ought to admit how incredibly stupid he had been. As well as the consequences of his own decisions, every time he went on without saying a word or asking for help. That stubbornness is his character trait. Yes, it is, but we never get to see how that affected his family, there wasn’t one paragraph about his parents talking about it with him.

- On this note why is Tessa always so ashamed, feeling like she’s the brute, saying sorry to everyone at every chance? It’s not like others apologised to her once. This character trait only perpetuates the notion how everything others impose on her is fair trade because they only want to help. And either way, she only feels apologetic about standing up for herself.

Mentions of notable things that annoyed me.

- The judgement if a girl need makeup or not, because *banging pots and pans* she’s beautiful no matter what in the boy’s eyes. And he tells her just that. “Are you wearing makeup?” I ask, without thinking. Tessa smiles just a little. “Yeah,” she says. “Grandma helped me with it. This feels like… a special occasion.” “You don’t need it, you know. You look beautiful without it. But you look beautiful with it, too. You always look beautiful. Even when you’re crying.” Tessa really needed to know your opinion about her wearing makeup Weston. Kudos for you for telling her she doesn’t need it because she looks beautiful without it, but it’s okay to wear it as she looks beautiful with it too. Great input man!

- At this point I’m not even surprised, but there really was the girl staring at something, asking if it’s pretty. (Okay, Tessa couldn’t stare but she was probably imagining––here it’s the sundown, bc of the whole sunlight theme). Then the boy answering, “Yeah, it’s pretty.” Not as pretty as you, he thinks while staring straight at her. Hello, is this a Disney production?

Conclusion.

All in all is this the worst book ever? No. Are there unforgivable problems with it? Not explicitly.

My biggest problem is what message it sends about relationship patterns, patterns I hate with a fiery passion. It’s the same old shit I grew up with, and it’s the same old shit that doesn’t seem to change after twenty years. Not even now when,––with the help of the era of internet––everyone is suddenly so woke. But are they, really? All I saw about this novel is the raving reviews praising it to heavens. And there are themes in it that deserve praise––the acceptance of one’s self, the loss, the forgiveness, the overcoming of hardships of life––but what about all that’s left? What about the execution?

Bottom line is, because this is a book, everything gets resolved and all is happy and fine at the end. However in real life, coercing others to do things against their will isn’t a glorious idea. Disregarding consent isn’t acceptable. Helping with the stubbornness of a mule isn’t really helping. And last but not least, perpetuating a mindset and a budding relationship like the one presented in this book––for a young audience shouldn’t be okay.

[bffsoobin]

Windflower (Preview)

Soobin x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, suspense/horror, hanahaki au!

Requested?: nope

Word Count: 1,273

Warnings: none for this preview post!

A/N: This is just a preview post for this fic! I’m very excited to write it, but it may take a while as it is more involved and might even become chaptered. I’ll make a brand new post for it once I begin with actual posting as well. The setting is heavily inspired by the movie We Have Always Lived in the Castle, if anyone is familiar with the book/movie! Please let me know if you enjoy/are excited for the full length fic!

Your car groaned in protest as you turned into the parking lot of the quaint diner. Giving the dashboard two loving yet harsh hits with the palm of your hand seemed to do the trick. Now silent, the beat up blue car seemed to quietly thank you as you settled between the white painted lines of a parking space and shut off the engine. It was a gray, overcast day but humidity hung in the air wherever you went, making your hair puffy and the back of your legs stick to the cracking leather of your driver’s seat. Heaving a sigh at the uncomfortable stickiness, you pulled down the mirror from the roof of your car to survey the reflection staring back at you. 

It’s a startling thing, to look at yourself in a mirror and barely recognize your face. Your skin was dull and starting to break out, the bags under your eyes had seemingly never been more prominent than they were in this moment. Your fingers danced over the darkened skin, wondering at what point of your trip you began to look so worn down. Was it the moment you left your apartment? The twelve hours of mindless driving with no destination in mind? Or had this degeneration begun the moment you found yourself completely alone in life? 

You snapped the mirror back up against the roof and rubbed your hands over your face. Mindlessly, you pushed through the items littering your passenger seat until you clasped the familiar quilted fabric of your wallet. As soon as you stood up outside of your car, a wave of dizziness sent you grasping at the top of your car for support. You needed food more than you had originally estimated. Your legs were still a bit shaky from disuse as you walked toward the small white building. Portions of the paint had peeled off in jagged strips to expose the tightly stacked brown bricks waiting underneath. The simple clear door displayed a sun-faded open sign with handwritten hours of operation. As soon as you pushed the door open, the smell of grease and fresh apple pie invaded your senses and your face involuntarily shrunk up in disgust. Another thick paper sign attached on a tarnished metal stand boasted a cheerful cursive that read “Please Seat Yourself!” You could hear a radio playing faintly from somewhere in the building.

Almost every booth in the rectangular dining area was vacant, save for one elderly couple sharing a plate of fries. The floor was sticky under your feet as you made your way to a booth, and whether the texture was a result of the humidity or a lack of cleaning, you couldn’t tell. Sliding into the booth was familiar, almost comforting as you thought back to all of the times you had slid into booths with your friends at dinner, or slid yourself into a booth at the coffee shop near your apartment to work on a paper. Well. Your old apartment. The thought of adjusting to past tense created a scowl on your face as an unsuspecting waitress approached your side. She cleared her throat and caught your attention. To your surprise, she was fairly young, maybe in her late 30s; and she stood in her bright blue blouse and skirt uniform with a cock to her hip and a serving tray tucked under her arm. 

“Hi, hun. My name is Melissa, what can I get ya?” the woman’s tone was deceivingly cheerful, given the slow restaurant and heavy air. You heaved a sigh and looked down at the thin paper menu. It wilted in your hand as you picked it up and you soon abandoned the idea of even trying to read through it. 

“Hi. A vanilla milkshake and fries, please.” The order was so simple that Melissa didn’t even write it down, just nodded and turned to head into the kitchen to relay your order. A dull buzz warned you of the beginning of a headache but you expertly pushed the feeling aside and decided to ask for a glass of water when she came with your order. Mindlessly, you began searching your phone for places to stay in the tiny town you had stumbled upon. This hadn’t been the kind of place you expected to end up for the summer, but you were never one to plan anything. Enthralled in your scrolling through motel listings, Melissa scared you as she set your order down in front of you. She caught a look at your phone and your face flushed in embarrassment. How much of an obvious tourist could you be? You asked for a glass of water in an attempt to shoo her away, but when she came back with a glass covered in condensation she didn’t leave. 

“Not from around here?” it was a rhetorical question, but you gave her props for trying to ease you into the conversation. You shook your head, not really caring to elaborate on where you came from as you shoved a few fries into your mouth. 

“I don’t usually talk to customers like this, but; well, we’re dead today and I saw you looking at places to stay on your phone. I don’t recommend any of them. Especially not to a young pretty girl like you. Most of them are way too pricey for their rooms. And the Moonlight motel is literally run by a druglord. He’d gobble you up,” she shivered at her own words. 

“Well, where should I stay, then? Unless I missed a Best Western on the way in, I don’t have many other choices,” you deadpanned, hoping to hide the nervousness that was rising in your stomach. If you didn’t stay here, where would you go? But then again, why do you want to stay here so bad in the first place? You took a slurp of your milkshake as you contemplated. 

“Look, it’s sort of a town secret, but you remind me of my niece, so I’ll just tell you now. There’s this estate- gated, two story house, old timey stuff, gorgeous garden” Melissa waved her hands around as she spoke, chipped red fingernails putting on a show of their own. “It’s called the Flower House, actually. It’s been passed from generation to generation, since the town was founded. The boy who owns it now is just about your age, but he’s been living there alone since his cousin moved away for college years ago. He’s a lovely boy, we love when he comes into town, it just isn’t often.” you raised your eyebrows at her, trying to figure out how this mysterious boy and his ancestral house had anything to do with your housing predicament. “Long story short, he came around a few weeks ago looking for anyone who would be willing to help him keep the house and yard clean. No pay, but it’s free living in a beautiful home. And he’s not bad looking either.” she winked suggestively. “If you want, I can give you the address and you can go talk to him?”

You looked into her eyes, sparkling with hope of giving you a helping hand. “Okay, yeah. Sure, what have I got to lose?” Melissa hurried away to get writing materials as you continued eating with renewed vigor. 

As Melissa cleared your minimal dishes away, she set a ripped piece of paper in front of you that simply read;

“Choi Soobin, 476 Gardenia Dr.”

After paying and being sure to leave your helpful waitress a generous tip, you hopped back in your car and began your journey to discover the mysterious Flower House.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Just A Fan

Oc writing. I just really wanted to post the first part because I’m really proud of it. Like it? Let me know & ill share more of it 💕

Fic jumps between Cherry & Seto’s POV

W! This is going to be a kidnapped fic. SFW. (For the most part. No sex) its a different take. Instead of the fan being obsessed its the comic book artist.

Super Big Comic Con was was always in September, the last weekend of the month where all the fans and collectors gathered to share interest and spend all their money on prints, comics and whatever else they could find. Cherry had to rush through her homework the week before so she could focus on the con and only the con. She was a junior in highschool studying editing and art. She was a popular girl with everybody but she really preferred her own space to think and work on her ideas. One day she wanted to work at a comic book company in the editing department. Her name was Cher but she liked to be called Cherry. Cherry was about 5’4 with long cherry red hair and her fashion was usually lose tops with overalls and sneakers, she was thin with a tiny waistline and always had eyeliner on with little wings. She had a lip ring that was a shiny silver and a eyebrow piercing in her right brow to match. She always carried herself with confidence and opportunity. She had been saving up for the hotel so she could attend the con all weekend and it was finally time.

——-

Seto was just getting ready to leave his house to make his way to the convention. He checked all his rooms, his locks and finally his basement. It made him frown as he leaned on the stairway looking in on the empty room; it consisted of a fuzzy carpet, an expensive dresser, an even more expensive computer and a brand new art tablet. This was his ‘inspiration room’ but lately… it was missing what inspired him the most.

He sat down on the bottom step with his elbows on his knees as he scanned around the room he put so much money into, he was a very tall man, lanky and an even 6’1 with jet black hair he liked to keep long.

The windows were small and high up, one on each wall. He got up with a slouch not bothering to fix his short hairs in his eyes as he sulked to the little area under his stairs. It had a small wall so you could not see inside and a door with a lock on it. He lightly kicked the door open leaning forward to peek in, his hands in his pockets. It was the same carpet with a small tv built into the wall and a makeshift bed that looked like just blankets that were sitting comfortably on some chains that were attached to the wall. He needed a new inspiration, he was lonely. Poor guy, all those comics he drew for could not fill the empty hole in his heart

Cherry had packed her bag into her car along with some clothes for the hotel and was ready to go. She got in the driver's seat and left her hometown for the next city over on her way to Super Big Comic Con. It was a long drive, maybe an hour and a half but she checked into her room around mid afternoon and could still catch the first day of the con if she hurried.

The first thing Cherry wanted to do was walk the con and see what it had to offer. It was always a delight for her, comics, artists, figures, cosplayers, writers all in one place. She bought some prints and asked some artist for advice that would help her with her career choice. Most artist were very nice and told her its a great place to work which really boosted her confidence. Cherry was making her way through the con looking for one particular comic artist. He was her favorite and she had all of his books and even his special edition sketch books. His pen name was Kidd Nathers but he usually went by Kidd for short. He always showed up whenever he wanted which normally meant towards the end of the day. He always did it this way, his real fans would wait around for him. Made picking out his inspiration easy.

——

Seto sulked through the con, hands in his pockets and eyes half lidded. He loathed these cons to be painfully honest. Too many people congesting the walkways and fake fans trying to get free art. He was nearing his mid 30s and just had no time for it. Long hours of editing, drawing with no pay off. Sure he got paid very well but what's the point if he had no one to spend it on right? Seto was approaching his table to see one person waiting near it. Just one fan ? well okay. Looks pretty legit.

Seto slid down into his chair laying his arms on the booth and sorting out all of his prints with sticky notes on each one with a set price. He did not do deals, too many hagglers and what not. He ran a bony hand through his hair watching this girl check her phone a few times while she looked around. Must not know he sneaked up.

“Looking for me?” his voice had a tickle in it along with a subtle tease. His smile creeped up his face too.

Cherry jumped nearly dropping her phone, the little cherry phone keychain dangling around in the air . her hair whipped around and Seto raised an eyebrow once he saw her face, that smile once she realized who was talking to her. Eyeliner, piercings, that hair.. He rested his cheek on his palm while his free hand tapped his booth. “Sorry i'm late, i didn't want to come. “ he said with a cheeky smile.

“Kidd!!!” Cherry hurried over placing her hands on the booth with a big smile on her face that made her lip ring shine in the light. “Oh my gosh your here! I was beginning to think you would skip this time around but something told me to wait it out , i love your work!!!”

Awww .. you're so nice. “Thank you ,I'm flattered” he tapped his index finger on his face under his eye. “Big fan, I take it? And i show up when i want but it appears you already know that “ he told her , leaning back to stretch. He was wearing a long white top with a stretched out neck with black jeans and boots.

Cherry could not hide her blush; she was so excited. “I just!!! I watch all your interviews, well . I read them since I know you said once you don't like in person interviews but you said you like to show up late to cons or not go at all. Im happy your here, if its any recollection, i love your work and its made my whole day to see you let alone talk to you. What you do is truly amazing.”

Seto folded his arms behind his head letting out a soft laugh and a big smile. He was touched by her words it gaver him a pleasant high , something he had not had in awhile. It was only the first day of this con and he was already feeling a … connection.

“Thank you, that means the world to me, these cons are a hit or miss for me, its the only time i really leave the house.” he faked a laugh .

“Aw cmon! Surely you go out!”She teased while looking through his prints.

“Okay okay” he leaned on his booth with his arms folded while smiling up at her, “ya caught me” he was lying. “See anythin ya like…?”

“Cher!! But i go by Cherry! And well. Everything but i only have maybe $80 left so i can only get one print.”

Cherry….. “Thats a nice name and nickname, pick whichever you want and ill sign it for you Cherry”

Cherry had picked a jester girl with a chain around her neck with a big hammer behind her back . Seto signed it for her and even put it in a print holder for her,

“Thank you!” she beamed while looking at the print.

“My pleasure”

“Will you uh be here tomorrow and sunday?” she asked looking at him.

“Mmm.. yeah, i will. Just for you “ Seto teased, poking at the girls arm.

Cherry giggled and waved goodbye to the comic book artist leaving Seto all alone. He felt good inside, this feeling in his chest was telling him something. Should be an interesting Convention for once.

[jojoreadwhat]

nothing else will do, all I want is you this christmas. | j.m. x fem!reader

a/n; hi. so you probably seen the post where I explained I deleted my last piece for Joe. I was not happy with it and I had another idea just floating in my head. this I think is my fav yet, so I hope you enjoy! I also re-tagged everyone from the last post, hope that’s cool! you’re the best!

prompt; joe can’t make it home for Christmas.

words; 1.7k

mentions; lucy boynton, ben hardy, gwilym lee & rami malek. (this is set around borhap’s production)

this tale includes lots of fluff which may lead to a lot laughs and a bunch of sweet kisses.

inspiration;

You were heartbroken by the news of Joe not being able to come home for Christmas. This was going to be your first, elaborate holiday spent apart across the pond.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” Joe repeated for the fourth time in the last 30 minutes through the blue screen of your laptop during a somber video chat.

Joe has been working on a major project, Bohemian Rhapsody, in London while you were back home in New York. This was Joe’s biggest part yet and it was supposed to stop, momentarily, for a lengthy week of rest for the cast. Unfortunately they have a deadline to catch up to and can’t halt the production.

Smiling soft and shaking your head. “It’s not your fault. We’ll celebrate it once you get back!” Trying to change the mood of things, Joe smirked briefly before his eyes trailed off the screen.

You felt so bad, in the way that technology advanced in today’s world, you were wishing you could reach through the screen and hug him, hug all of his sadness away and kiss the straightness of his lips till it giggled against your lips, curling up. Telling him it was going to be okay. Nothing made you more upset then seeing your boyfriend, blaming himself for something that was out of his hands.

“Joey?” Watching his eyes look up at the sound of your voice. Breaking the silence, “Hm.” meeting the lens like he was looking into yours with all of his attention. “Please don’t beat yourself up for it, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t, not for him anyways.

Joe and you have been together for a little over a year. You met through mutual friends at a party and hit it off instantly. He wasn’t expecting you to come in his life. Joe had his fair share of relationships and flings to keep him steady, he was ready to settle the bat down after a shit game on the field of love. But he met you right before he benched himself. You’ve become his best friend, his confidant, his lover and all good things between or beyond since. He was lucky to have stumbled upon your path, grateful even. It was time like these that made him question if he deserved you.

In the many years of his acting career, this current film was the most challenging he’s ever experienced. The longest he’s ever been away from home too. It was worse taking up jobs like this knowing he had someone to come home. He doesn’t know how you’ve stayed this long. He swore the first time that he spent away from you, would be the last he’d ever see you. He would’ve understood you leaving too. You stayed though, he never understood that by a long shot but you did and he wanted nothing more than to be back home with you.

Falling into another silence, you spoke up again. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“How you do it.” He remarked, gingerly. His chin resting on hands, peering back at you. You raised your brow in confusion, wondering where this was going. “Do what?” Your naivety getting the best of you.

He smirked at your dumbfounded expression, you really had no idea what you meant to him.

“Stay.” He said, feeling your lips turn up into a smirk you couldn’t put a stop to even if you wanted to.

Sometimes you really thought you weren’t good enough in the ways that Joe was good to you. You couldn’t begin on how much he meant to you. How important and how amazing he was to you. You had your share of boyfriends using your heart as a welcome mat. When Joe came into your life it was like nobody could ever show you greater if anything wrong were to happen to your relationship. He was your beacon of light, the most kind, most affection, fun and generous soul you ever had the honor of having in your life. To call yours, for hopefully forever if he’d have you. You couldn’t walk away from him.

You smiled, brightly at the fluffy red hair with a funny, but adorable perm right now and his hazel eyes gazing back at you. “Because,” you began. “I love you.” watching his cheeks grow a deep shade of pink as he wasn’t used to hearing that.

Soon after, Joe and you bid your goodbyes before closing down your laptop. You sighed to yourself, dimly. Your eyes following the glistening, warm Christmas lights scattered against walls in the living room up until you focused on tree. Covered in odd ornaments, admiring it. You wished you could bring Christmas to him.

That’s when it hit you, what if you could? Joe couldn’t fly out but nothing was stopping you from flying out to him! You were overjoyed by the idea, checking your calendar and immediately texting the best person you know would be down to help.

Lucy Goosy: Are you up??? I just had the best idea!!

+

Lucy was over the moon by your idea of coming to London to bring Christmas cheer to Joe. She was also so excited to have another female around on set for the next week to be honest.

You two had met earlier on in the year before Bohemian Rhapsody began to be filmed. It was a little get together between the cast and crew, you two hit it off well and absolutely adored each other. She would help you out sometimes on keeping a good eye on Joe and his well being. She was always rooted for Joe and you, she knew first hand how much you meant to him.

When you landed on english soil on Christmas Eve. Lucy had her driver pick you up at the airport. You sat in the back of the black SUV, your nerves shot and all over the place, anxious and excited all in one over what today was going to be like. You hadn’t seen him, physically, in months and you couldn’t wait much longer, it was driving you mad not seeing that goofy smile and those hazel eyes for so long.

You texted Lucy when you had arrived outside of the place where her and the boys were filming.

She had everything figured out, even jobs for the boys. Lucy was going to do everything in her willpower to make sure this goes perfect as planned.

Still waiting for the go to exit the SUV, Lucy opened the door.

“Y/N!” Lucy shouted, excited as you shared the same enthusiasm, leaping into her arms. “It’s so great to see you!”

Gwilym was standing behind her, I shot him a smile before I pulled away and gave him a hug too.

Lucy placed my hands into hers, “Okay, so Rami and Ben have Joe out and about for lunch.” Smiling big, “We have an hour!”

We came up with the idea of decorating Joe’s trailer. “Okay! Let’s get rolling!”

+

Gwil, Lucy and you all hurried with bags full of twinkle lights and frilly decor to Joe’s trailer. Gwilym being the tall chap that he is, helped with hanging garlands and lights from the walls and draping from the ceiling. Lucy and you fluffed out a tree she had found from somewhere, cluttering it with lights and ornaments.

You were hooking a few ornaments, cute little Yankees ones too. “Lu, these are so cute!” Holding up one to her, she flashed a smile. “I heard wedding bells when I seen them!” Winking at you, “I believe I saw him looking at rings on his phone!” And your cheeks grew rosy as you placed the ornament onto the tree.

Time had passed and you had finished up with ten minutes to spare.

Gwilym was adding extra bows to empty areas and Lucy was adding an extra “dazzle” she quoted, with some candles.

We all stood in the main room at the glistening lights “It’s so cute!!” You cried, wrapping your arms around their middles and pulling them to your sides, gleefully. “Seriously couldn’t have done it without you guys,” leaning your head onto Lucy’s shoulder. “I owe you all lunch before I go!”

Gwilym chuckled, “No need! Just get our boy to cheer up, will ya?” You smiled, toothlessly. Nodding, “Absolutely.”

Lucy’s phone dinged, “Alright, they’re on their way back!” They scurried around quickly, grabbing trash and what nots before hugging you, “He’ll be here right after he gets in to change.” Gwilym announced, “hang tight!”

+

You sat on Joe’s sofa with a smile plastered to your face, in awe about the way the place came out. You were overwhelmed wanting to see his face.

Shortly you heard muffled sounds outside, you immediately went into action. Turning out the light switch and standing in place.

Your heart grew faster at how close you heard Joe’s sweet voice getting to the trailer.

“Hold on, I’ve gotta change back into my costume.” He yelled outside the door, hearing the door knob move.

You stayed carefully still, afraid he’d make out your shadow. “I thought I left the lamp on?” Muttering to him once he entered the room, hearing his feet shuffle across the floor as he reached for the light switch.

“Oh my god!” Joe nearly screeched at the sight and then when he seen you, he gasped “Y/N!” Beaming at the sight of his excitement taking over him.

He almost knocked you over with how fast he hurried to you, engulfing you into the warmest hug that you felt in ages. “Oh my god, you’re here!” Feeling his words in your hair, his hands roaming you like he was making sure you were really here.

“When did you get in?” His mouth was running for miles, How did you do all of this?!” He finished, then. Pulling away to go look around him at all the decorations, overwhelmed by everything.

You stood by, adoring him as he admired everything. “I had a little help, thanks to Lucy and the boys.”

He gasped, “they knew you were coming this whole time?!” Giggling as he watching him talk with his hands, one landing to his chest. “Come here,” waving his hand over towards you.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, he brought his hands to your cheeks. Tilting your head up towards his. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You didn’t know how to answer his question, but you knew he needed to be happy in the same way he made you feel.

Moving your hands to his dark red fluffy locks, simply smiling as you brought his lips to yours before pulling away to look at his eyes, the hazel ones you called home and loved with your all.

“Merry Christmas, Joe.”

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