#and I have a salon appointment on Saturday at a place where I have never gone to but I know it’s good bc it has curl specialist

[spacebell]

am I being a dick because I don’t want my brother to work from home, even though he’s feeling sick?

[buckets-and-trees]

hii i have a request this can be for Ransom or Andy

But imagine y/n and him are in an arranged marriage. y/n is doing everything she can for him to sign the divorce paper for examples smashing his cars, serving overly salty food, cutting his expensive clothes into pieces, disrespecting his workers, and spending his money on the most useful things (but if it ransom spending money at “low class” retail shops only bc I feel like he’ll hate that), etc.

instead of giving her a divorce, he just randomly starts acting like a romantic gentleman until the night ends he punishes her 🙊😈

I have to apologize for taking so long to answer this ask... and forgive me for not using all the inspo you dropped my way, but from the MOMENT I read this, I knew it was going to fuel something very specific for I'm Your Man Andy and his entrapped fiancé reader., and so I still needed to post it as an answer to this to give some credit where it's due. So even though it took months and months to get to here, this is the result.

Title: Don't Look Too Far Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After jetting away with Andy for a week, you're back. The reality that this is going to be your life starts to settle in in very unsettling ways. And although Andy's taken so many liberties with you already, he finally crosses a line you didn't know was on the board.

Content/Warnings: violent behavior; spanking as punishment; emotional manipulation; explicit smut: nipple play, cock stroking, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex; use of pet name (sweetheart), implied dacryphilia

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

Author Note 2: I've been sitting on this for a long time, and I'm excited to finally have it here to share with you. Some of you genuinely seem to love this awful Andy, and you'll like this chapter. Some of you kinda like him against your will and I think you'll like this chapter (cough @stargazingfangirl18 cough). Some of you loathe this man, and you might like at least a few things in this chapter (looking at @biteofcherry).

You are glad to get home from your whirlwind trip with Andy.

Everything had been stunning, luxurious, and beyond your wildest dreams in one of the places you’d been longing to go almost your entire life. Even Andy had been nearly wonderful and certainly subjected you to endless spoiling and copious amounts of exquisite sex.

He makes all of this so difficult.

The private jet touches down in the early afternoon, and Andy allows you to avoid him until dinner. One of the things he’d made clear was an expectation from day one was having dinner together. After dinner, he insists on taking you for a ride in his Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante – not his only sports car in the gargantuan garage of his mansion, and not even the only Aston Martin. Though he gave you no choice in whether or not to join him, he doesn’t force conversation, merely lets you enjoy the scenic drive, occasionally holding your hand. Once home, he takes you to bed and gets you to scream out through two orgasms for him before he lets you rest in peace.

The next morning, you awake alone. Andy only invokes a little small talk in the kitchen, lets you know he’ll be taking a few meetings, places a kiss on the top of your head while you eat breakfast at the counter, and then leaves.

It is more room than you have been used to in the mornings, and you don’t question it. You are happy to have the Saturday to yourself.

Three days after Andy so decisively put his engagement ring on your finger, he put a black card in your wallet. Today you will break it in.

You start at a hair salon you have never been able to afford but that had been on the “essential” list of prenuptial rituals for some of the wealthiest brides you’d planned nuptials for. Having the long-standing relationship with the establishment to arrange appointments for your clients meant they were willing to fit you in last minute for the late morning.

You hold yourself back from doing anything drastic. You don’t want to give Andy the satisfaction of driving you to go for a new style. You leave more than a generous tip.

You get lunch at a small sandwich shop – one of your favorites. You choose a table with a view out one of the large windows. It’s nice to be in a familiar place, even with the presence of Shep watching out for the non-existent security threats.

After lunch, you ask Mark to drive you to the plant nursery you love.

You get everything you want, leaving no plant behind if it strikes your fancy. You buy lovely pots for all of them and never look at price tags. When you tap your card for the enormous bill, it’s with a self-satisfied smirk on your face.

Next you go to the nail salon. They are busy, as it’s Saturday afternoon, just as you knew they would be, but they say they can take you in an hour or less, and since you have no demands on your time, you’re more than fine waiting.

As it’s late summer, it really is too warm for the plants to stay in your car, so you insist on sending Mark home with the plants – you know better than to try to convince Shep to go with him. The man has made it clear he will not shirk his duty as the point man for the security Andy has assigned to you. He’s ever present, and you don’t give him a hard time – he’s only doing his job. Shep doesn’t like your suggestion, however, and instead calls someone from the house to come pick up your plants so neither of the men have to leave.

Once your pedicure and manicure are complete, you check your phone while you’re escorted to the SUV. Your mom has sent you a text.

MOM: Call me when you get a chance! I want to hear all about your trip!

You frown as you slide into the backseat.

How did she know?

Since being trapped and installed into the life of the mob boss, you’ve avoided getting together with any of your friends or family, phone calls, and any deep text conversations. It’s self-isolation, nothing mandated from Andy. But what would you tell them about your new circumstance? Forced into an engagement with a charming, handsome man who just happens to be a mobster with control issues you were sure you could never escape from? Not a subject you want to get anywhere close to.

You only hesitate for another moment before you hit the call button and place the phone to your ear as Mark starts your drive home.

“Hello, dear!” your mom’s voice is clear and full of excitement.

“Hi, Mom,” you reply, smiling despite yourself.

Your heart aches for the weeks it’s been since you two last spoke. You missed her voice. You’re close with both of your parents. Your job had kept you incredibly busy over the past five years, but you usually spoke with them at least once a week and made it out to their house in the suburbs once or twice a month.

“I got your text,” you say simply, not sure how else to begin.

“Yes!” she exclaims, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want to hear everything about your trip! But first, we have to talk about Andy!”

She can’t see it, but your jaw drops. “Andy?”

“He made us promise not to say anything until after lunch today – and I’m sorry, it’s why I haven’t texted or called all week, I wasn’t sure I couldn’t NOT bring him up, but he told us everything! How you met–”

“Well, you know I planned that signature gala for him,” you interject, somehow needing to jump in to clarify that point.

“Of course, yes, but how he was so impressed by you but waited until the event was over before saying anything, how he couldn’t help moving so fast with you. When he reached out earlier this week to set up the lunch with your father and I, he said he wanted us to meet him without you there so that we could thoroughly vet him and judge for ourselves without worrying you, make up our own minds even though he was obviously hoping we would approve since you’re engaged, but he didn’t reveal that detail until today.”

“Oh,” your mind is racing. “Andy always seems to have something up his sleeve.”

She laughs. “I can only imagine! And things certainly developed quickly!”

“Yes…” your voice is thick with hesitancy, and you know you can’t hide it from her.

“But your father and I want you to know that while you don’t need our approval, you have it. We’re surprised, but we approve. He’s so clearly smitten with you, and we know you would never jump into an engagement like this unless you were sure. We trust you.”

You don’t know what to say.

“I would have told you and Dad about the engagement,” you say. You don’t know when you would have. You were still so freshly coming to terms with its reality and ramifications…

Now telling your parents about Andy is yet another thing he has stolen from you.

“We know! We were young once, too! I can only imagine how much that man must have swept you away!” she soothes and exclaims, her voice bright and beaming through the phone.

It makes your chest ache because if this had evolved without Andy’s constant control, it might have been like this, and you would have gushed and been giddy with your mom right now in this moment.

“Why don’t we get lunch tomorrow just the two of us?” you suggest, wanting nothing more than to talk to your mom, but desperately needing to get off the phone so you can regroup, clear your thoughts, and figure out what in the world you are going to be able and willing to tell her.

“I would love that! Where do you want to go?”

You quickly sort out details that you promise to confirm over text, say your goodbyes, and then you end the call. You set the phone on the seat, drop your head back, and shut your eyes, fighting back angry tears. You wouldn’t let them fall down your cheeks.

“Your mom sounds like a lovely woman,” Shep interrupts your thoughts.

The laugh that tumbles out of your mouth is short and underscores how ridiculous all of this is. “She is. She’s not perfect, but she’s the best and has the biggest heart,” you respond with a genuine smile.

“She passed it on to you,” he says, meeting your eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror.

“You two should probably meet her tomorrow,” you offer up.

“We look forward to it,” Mark chimes in.

That’s the end of the exchange, but it dawns on you that while these two men have been assigned to your personal security and transportation, and they’re work for Andy, they have been nothing but professional, and you can see now that while they’re not warm and soft, there is a degree of care from them that has developed or that you’re only now recognizing exists that does seem to go beyond being a paycheck for them. Mark is probably close to your age, and you would guess Shep is eight or ten years older. Both men wear wedding bands on their left hands.

Having to have them assigned to you, you’re grateful it’s these two seemingly good men.

You’re sure there could be much worse.

You’re quiet the rest of the ride home, but your mind doesn’t stop racing.

“Would you like to get out at the front of the house or in the garage, ma’am?” Mark asks as you near the house. He always asks because the house is so large it makes a difference.

The corner of your mouth lifts as you decide, “The garage, please.”

The garage is a drive in basement level on the southeast corner of the house and holds two dozen cars, including the black Range Rover designated for you. You wonder if you’d ever be allowed to drive a car of your own again.

More aware now of the men, you notice there is a degree of ease that settles particularly over Shep now that you’re safe in the house again. You wonder if that’s always been the norm or if there’s a higher threat potential than usual. The shift does clue you into the reality that Andy is involved in more dangerous things than you thought. Instigator or target, you don’t know which he is, but regardless he’s swimming in dangerous waters, and you’re tied to his fate now.

This is your life.

Would you have chosen it?

Would you have?

A month ago, before the gala, you had genuinely been taken with him, even thought of him as you went to bed, alone, a hand on your breast and a toy between your legs and imagined what it would be like to have him there dealing out your pleasure instead. You hadn’t thought any serious interest being reciprocated from even the faintest possibility.

You had been so wrong.

And he’s dealt more pleasure than you had ever experienced.

More pain as well.

He was mindful of your physical limits, even if he rode them mercilessly.

He failed to comprehend the gravity of the rest of the pain he caused.

And today he reached a limit you hadn’t been expecting.

You slide out of the backseat when Shep opens your door, and instead of heading for the staircase in the corner, you move to the south wall of the garage and start opening cabinets. Shep tracks your movements but gives you space.

In the second set, you find Andy’s golf clubs.

Perfect.

You test a few of the drivers, and when you’re satisfied you’ve got the heaviest in your hands, you pull it clean out of the bag and make your way directly to the car you’ve noticed Andy favors most.

His silver Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante.

The very car he drove you around in last night.

You hold nothing back in your swings, cracking the glass with your second hit. The third doesn’t do much more damage, so you move to the metal body, and here’s where you see you will get at least some of your satisfaction, easier to create dents in the metal than breaking the windshield. You do manage to smash one of the windows. Then you round on the next car.

Neither Mark nor Shep move to stop you, but you do see Shep is on the phone briefly.

You guess that you won’t be alone for long, so you move to a third car. Andy arrives as you lay into the fourth car. You look over at him with apprehension, unsure of what his next move will be. He meets your gaze, surveys the damage you’ve done so far, looks back at you, and then takes up position leaning against the Range Rover.

You grit your teeth, then raise the club over your head and bring it down with a battle cry over the hood of the silver Porsche 911 Turbo. A fifth car bears the fire of your rage, and mid-swing on the sixth is when a someone finally grabs the other end of the iron. You scream in fury and turn to face Andy, who’s looming over you, his blue eyes dark, stormy, and his mouth a thin line.

You yank against the club, but his grip is firm. You don’t let go though, still trying to wrest it from his hands, eyes locked on his, and he uses the rod to pull you closer to him, nearly chest to heaving chest (yours, not his).

“That’s enough, sweetheart.” His fingers work yours away from the metal rod, and he clasps one of your hands in his to keep you close while - eyes on you - he tosses the club to Shep, who catches it easily.

You huff and try to pull your hand away, but he interlocks your fingers and then starts to lead you away and up the stairs. Not wanting to allow him seeing any petulance from you, you comply and follow him in silence. Adrenaline starting to taper off, you feel exhaustion seeping into your limbs, and part of you wonders if Andy knew you were reaching the end of your strength and stopped you before you would have lost steam on your own. Your stomach seethes.

Once on the main floor, you fall in step with him, not needing the staff to see anything that will make them talk. Some of them may be oblivious to why you’re here, but you know there are those who are aware at different levels that you aren’t here as the other half of a fairytale.

Your destination turns out to be the family dining room, not the formal one.

Dinner, of course.

He pulls your chair out for you, tucking it politely as you sit, and then takes his place across from you.

Sometimes you and Andy talk over dinner.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

If he’s going to be silent about today, say nothing more about your vandalism on arriving home, then you certainly are not going to stoke conversation. His eyes are on you frequently, but you ignore him.

Halfway through dinner and after taking a sip of wine, Andy finally says, “Your hair looks nice.”

You scoff. “As if you really noticed. Your men told you where we were.” You know it’s hardly changed.

Andy set his fork down. “Look at me,” he demands, tone serious, and so you comply. “They’re your men, and don’t make the mistake of thinking I will ever fail to notice a detail, especially when it comes to my wife.”

Your heart skips a beat - part fear, but part some flare in your heart that you hate reacting to his words. You raise your chin in defiance. “I’m not your wife.”

“Yet.”

Threat and promise.

As if the exquisite engagement ring whose heavy weight you were growing so used to weren’t a constant reminder.

Rather than think further on that, for the rest of the meal you consider his correction that Shep and Mark are your men when you’d said they were his. It was an interesting distinction, and you would put feelers out to ask about it later - not Andy, but maybe with the men.

When dinner is over, Andy stands and reaches for your hand. He always does. It’s unsettling because if only you had ever had a choice, the gesture would be endearing. A few nights over this month that you’ve been his, he kissed the back of your hand and left to attend to business. Some nights, he wanted to watch something with you before bedtime, or go on a drive like last night. Most often he takes you to the bedroom.

It’s the latter tonight.

You walk silently to the master suite together. Every muscle in your body is taught with tension, with the simmering rage and hurt of the day seething through your veins.

Andy closes the door and turns to face you.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re so upset before or after your punishment?”

“My - what?!” You glower and put your hands on your hips. “Why am I being punished? You let me smash two more cars before you even stopped me.”

“It’s not about the cars, it’s your refusal to talk to me about something that clearly has you worked up.”

“Worked up?” Your eyes widen and then narrow. “I’m not worked up, Andy, I’m infuriated.”

“Then tell me what crime I’ve committed.”

You scoff and turn away.

He catches you before you’ve taken two steps, gripping your upper arm. He hauls you toward the bed, takes a seat on the end of the mattress, and then lays you down over his lap. He takes both your wrists in his left hand and holds them firmly while his right hand pulls your pants down.

All of it happens so swiftly that you can’t even fight him, but you cry out when the first, harsh slap hits your bare ass. The sting is sharp and shocking. The second comes quickly after. You try to shake out of his hold, but he growls your name, tightens his grip, and the third slap comes even harder.

Four. Five. He kneads the flesh of your ass between some of the smacks. Eight. Fifteen. Twenty. Somewhere in the middle, the smacks morph into a swirl of simultaneous pain and numbness – a mirror of how you feel. You’re sobbing once he finally stops, body sagging in defeat over his lap. He lifts you carefully and lays you stomach down on the bed. You fold your arms and hide your face into the frame of them to cry and settle into softer cries, and Andy lets you have the moment of privacy.

It’s not long before you register Andy’s return though, his weight sinking onto the bed next to you. Then his hand is on your tender backside, applying a cold cream to your skin, and the relief makes you let out a shuddering sigh. He works it over you slowly, gently, methodically. By the time Andy’s finished, so are your tears. You’re still full of emotions, but they’re a swirling, complicated mess. You feel like the frustration has been spanked out of you, but you’re still hurt and angry, but now you’re also confused by this tender act. This only extends when he urges you to roll over, and sit up, and he kisses your forehead. You look up at him dolefully, he wipes away the remaining tracks of your tears. He’s shed his clothes from the day and is now bare-chested and in a pair of navy silk pajama bottoms. He proceeds to gently help you take off your shirt, your bra, and then slips you into a silk robe he’s brought from the closet.

Then Andy stands, scoops you up into his arms, and heads to the balcony of your master suite. He settles down onto the loveseat and arranges you in his lap so you’re sitting sideways over him, and he wraps his arm around you. It’s more of the confusing closeness, physical intimacy that you crave but can’t give into with him. It’s the first time you’ve been out here, and it affords a beautiful view of the darkening sky. Yet another thing you would have yearned for but don’t want like this.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you say honestly.

He puts his hand under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“But will you hear me?” You ask and turn your head away and out of his hand.

He smoothes his thumb over your jaw but - to your surprise - doesn’t force you to look at him as he had before. Instead he lets his hand drop and brings it around your waist so he’s got both arms banded around you again.

“You’ve taken so much from me, Andy. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no way out of this, but it’s been mounting and it came to a peak today. I had a day to myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to spend it with my friends or my parents because I can’t tell them about us! I haven’t spoken or texted any of them on more than a surface level since this all began. And I haven’t gone back to work yet, but I want to work, I need to work, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell them either!”

He is quiet for a moment. And then, “I knew you hadn’t told anyone, but why do you think you can’t tell them about us?”

“What am I supposed to say?” You scoff. “I can’t tell them that you threatened me with blackmail and forced me into our engagement!”

“No,” he agrees, “You can’t tell them that.”

“So, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“That you fell for my charms, that I surprised you when I declared my intentions and by how serious I was, that I made it almost impossible for you to refuse me. It’s enough of the truth.”

You frown and scrutinize his face. “Enough of the truth,” you repeat, the words tasting bitter in your mouth. “Is that how you always live your life?”

 He lifts his chin, a flash of hardness in his eyes. “I’ve done what I needed to.”

“You didn’t need to go behind my back to meet my parents!” You blurt, the hurt in your voice bleeding out despite trying to keep it in, to keep it away from him, not wanting to share something so personal.

“I want to have a good relationship with my in-laws. My mother’s dead and my father was sentenced to life in prison when I was a kid.”

“But they’re my parents,” you stress. “I should have been able to be the ones to tell them about getting married. You stole that from me.”

Andy studies your face quietly.

You drop your gaze. You won’t tell him why stealing this moment – more than anything else he’s done – was your breaking point. You doubt he would care or understand, but he also doesn’t get to know something so personal. He hasn’t earned that right.

“You love them,” he finally says.

You nod. “We’re very close.”

He falls silent again.

Finally, you give an exhausted sigh. “Why did you have to do this to us?”

“I wanted you.”

“I wanted you, too. You should have let us fall into it.”

“Fall now.”

“I can’t,” you protest, and you look up to argue further, but he’s faster, cutting you off with a kiss.

His lips are demanding, and the heat he pours into the kiss seeps into the cracks he’s been chipping away inside you, and your traitorous body leans into the moment. You’re exhausted physically and emotionally.

You don’t know how you can ever let yourself fall for him.

But as his hands soothe up and down your back, you wonder if you have to deny yourself everything for the rest of your life?

What if you fell into him for one night? Allowed yourself to let go, to forget for just a few hours? You are so tired. And your body aches. And after so much hurt, betrayal, and anger running high through your veins for so many hours now, after the shock and release from being put over his knee, maybe you just want to forget and get lost in pleasure.

Pleasure you know he was far too capable of giving.

Not only capable of giving, but master of overwhelming you with it.

After he’s stolen so much from you these last weeks, maybe you want and need to steal a night of ecstasy without any thoughts.

You shift on his lap, his arms still around you, until you’re straddling his lap. You leverage his broad shoulders to push yourself up on your knees, and you look down at him. You can’t read everything in his dark blue stormy eyes yet, but you can interpret some of what’s there. He’s intrigued and you can see the spark of hunger flaring, but there’s something else you can’t quite read.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

He doesn’t pull you in closer, but his arms hold you steady in your kneeling stance. You reach for the tie of your silk robe, and you slowly pull it loose.

“Tonight is not for you,” your voice is low, quiet, but not soft, “it’s for me.”

His eyes narrow a fraction, but as you shrug the silky garment off your shoulders, he helps let the robe fall free to the ground.

Andy’s eyes rake over your naked form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His hands glide up your sides, rough palms contrasting with the softness of your flesh. You shiver despite the warmth of the evening air.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscles there. Your fingers trace the lines down to his abdomen, following the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. You can feel the evidence of his arousal, and he groans, gripping your hips tightly, and you squeeze his length - big as the rest of him - the cock that has ruined you.

He leans in and his lips burn a trail down your neck, over your chest and find one of your breasts, nipping on the swell before licking at your aereola and taking it into his mouth. Your fingers rake into his hair, and he sucks insistently until your nipple is almost painfully hard. He releases it with a pop, then moves to give equal treatment to your other breast. You press your needy cunt down against his groin, keening for him.

You grind against him, and he can’t help but groan. In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist instinctively as he carries you back into the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He takes less than a second to push his pajama bottoms down and off before he joins you on the bed, his body covering yours.

His weight presses you into the mattress. You feel every inch of his hard body against yours, and you arch up, desperate for more contact. Andy's hand slides between your bodies, finding your slick folds. He groans when he feels how wet you are for him.

"Always so ready for me," he murmurs against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

You whimper as his fingers tease your entrance, circling but not entering. You buck your hips, trying to force him inside, but he pulls back with a dark chuckle.

"Patience, sweetheart," he admonishes.

But patience isn't what you want tonight. You want to lose yourself in sensation, to forget everything but the pleasure he can give you. You reach down and grasp his thick length, guiding him to your entrance.

He forces your hand away with a tsk, and you glare at him, but he is grinning, moving down your body already. He kisses the sensitive spot on your lower stomach, the one he discovered that always makes you gasp and arch your back for him. His shoulders force your legs open to accommodate his frame as he plants himself between your thighs.

Andy's mouth descends on your core, his tongue laving your sensitive folds. You arch into him, a moan escaping your lips. His beard scratches deliciously against your inner thighs as he works you over with his skilled tongue. He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, building your pleasure steadily.

Your hands fist in his hair, holding him against you as you rock your hips. The coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter. Just as you're about to topple over the edge, Andy pulls back, denying you release.

“Andy, please,” you beg.

Andy's breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver and whine. He places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, then another, slowly working his way back towards your center. You squirm, desperate for more contact, but his strong hands hold your hips firmly in place.

He chuckles, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you. "I thought this night was for you," he teases, his beard scraping deliciously against your thigh. "Let me take care of you."

Before you can protest, his tongue laves a long, slow stroke up your slit. You cry out, your back arching off the bed. He repeats the motion, this time circling your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Your hands fist in the sheets as Andy's talented mouth works you over. He alternates between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, never letting you settle into a rhythm. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that he knows makes you see stars.

"Oh god, Andy!" you cry out, your hips bucking against his face.

He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers pump in and out, matching the pace of his tongue on your clit. The dual sensations are overwhelming, and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your flesh. "Let go for me."

His words are your undoing. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your body arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelms you. But he’s anything but finished.

Andy doesn't let up, his mouth and fingers working you through your orgasm and pushing you towards another peak. Your body trembles, oversensitive but craving more. You tug at his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

"Too much," you gasp, but he ignores your weak protest.

He adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he continues to lap at your swollen clit. The intensity builds rapidly, and before you can catch your breath, you're tumbling over the edge again. This time, Andy pulls away, allowing you a moment to recover.

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to nip roughly at your collarbone. When he reaches your mouth, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, your hands roaming over his broad back.

Andy positions himself between your thighs. You reach between your bodies and guide him to your entrance. You need him inside of you. He pushes in slowly, stretching you deliciously, filling you completely. You both groan as he slides in to the hilt, and you throw your head back. He stills there, kisses along your jaw, then gives a soft rock of his hips, rutting against you, but not thrusting.

“Move,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him on.

Andy leans down and claims your lips again, demanding the intimate kiss as his price, his tongue licking into your mouth to tangle with yours. He then sets a steady rhythm that has you moaning with each thrust. You buck your hips to draw him in with each stroke. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans of pleasure.

You drag your nails down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. He hisses, then retaliates by biting down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The sharp pain mixed with pleasure makes you cry out.

"Harder," you demand, needing more, needing to lose yourself completely.

Andy growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, the force of his thrust pushing you up the bed. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his movements. Your walls clench around him, drawing a guttural groan from his throat.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "Take what you need from me."

You're climbing higher and higher, chasing that blissful peak. Andy snakes a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles over the sensitive bud, and it's too much.

You shatter, screaming his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body convulses, clenching rhythmically around him. Andy fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you're a trembling mess beneath him as he chases his own release.

It takes a few more strokes, and then he’s spilling his hot seed inside of you, groaning against your neck. He collapses his weight onto you for a few moments, catching his breath. Your hands roam over his back. If you had been given the chance to choose him, to choose this life, wrapped in his arms right now you would have felt blissfully content, and so since tonight was a pass on reality, you let a satisfied sigh fall from your lips.

Andy’s lips find yours again, and you kiss until you feel floaty and boneless beneath him, head empty of all thoughts.

When the fervency of the kisses finally slows into a languid calm, Andy finally rolls off of you. He reaches for the switch to turn off the soft lights that had been on, then settles on his side, facing you. He traces lazy patterns over your form with his fingers, and you close your eyes and simply feel.

You didn’t know you had fallen into sleep except that the motion of Andy pulling you into his chest so he can spoon up behind you pulls you back into consciousness. He chuckles softly at your little mewl, and then pulls you a little closer to his warm chest and plants a kiss on your neck, just below your ear. You settle against him without complaint.

You’re exhausted, and you don’t know where he finds the resilience, but his hand snakes down to cup your cunt again, and you hum as he begins to work your clit. You have no strength left in you, but if you don’t have to work for it and Andy’s going to give it to you, you’ve learned under his hand that he always knows how to coax out one more climax from you when you think you’re already spent.

Your breath speeds up again, and you can feel the promise of pleasure pulling at your muscles, tightening them for one final release.

As he works you quickly up to that point, he speaks directly into your ear. “You said tonight was for you, not for me. It’s the lie you needed to tell yourself to let go, and that’s fine, but know that your pleasure is always pleasure for me.”

And so unfairly, your body comes for him right then, exactly as he wants you to, and you cry out before going even more limp in his arms. He presses another kiss on your neck, and you can feel his satisfied smile against your skin. You desperately wish you could break out of his arms and roll away from him, but you do not have even an ounce of strength left, and so you simply let the exhaustion overtake you and escape from him in sleep.

You’re vaguely aware of how close Andy keeps you all night. Since he typically does, it’s a surprise when you wake to an empty bed. There is only a vague suggestion of sunlight beginning to come in the windows, so you know it’s still incredibly early. The sheet is down around your waist, and you splay your arm out to where Andy should have been. The bed isn’t cold, but there’s only a hint of warmth, so you know he’s been up for a while.

As if unnervingly on cue, Andy comes in from the ensuite bathroom and hums at seeing you awake. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He strides right up to the edge of the bed, leans down, and plants a kiss on your cheek, then rubs his hand softly over your jaw.

“Morning,” you respond.

You hate how lovely this scene should be. Your heart wants it, but your brain reminds you not to accept this contrived intimacy he pretends is real and normal.

He crosses the room and retrieves his phone, starts to put on his watch, the finishing touches before he embarks on his day.

“You can sleep in,” he says softly.

“Why are you up so early? It’s Sunday.”

“Early tee time at the country club,” he answers.

You make a vague sound of acknowledgement and pull the sheet and duvet back up to burrow in for a lazy morning of more sleep and maybe some reading.

“Enjoy lunch with your mom, by the way,” he says at the door. “I’m teeing off with your father, so I’ll persuade him to have lunch with me to give you two time as just mother and daughter.”

You suck in a sharp breath and he departs, dropping this revelation, and leaving you to seethe at his making yet another bold move, seeping steadily further into the foundations of your life.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

SO

YEAH

Still with me here?

Even though I figured out the plot point for this chapter a while back, when I wrote it, I had to take a break a few times because I was upset over how some things were playing out.

I was also surprised by some of the development with her security detail of Mark and Shep. I randomly made them up really quickly during Prepare for Takeoff, but then here I learned they were going to end up being even more important than I thought (including something key for two specific future plot points).

[adenei]

All You Knead Is Love - Chapter 4

It's time for another weekly update! Today, we learn how Lily got burned so badly. I hope you're stocked up on hatred for our least favorite person!

Two days later, Lily returns to the spiraling reality that is her life. After Lily got back from the loo during dinner on Saturday night, Mary and Marlene sensed her change in demeanor, even though she insisted that nothing was wrong. Her best friends followed Lily to her flat after the celebrations ended, and they spent the rest of the night drinking wine and watching sappy Hallmark movies.

They convinced Lily to take one more day off before jumping back into her career, where she needed to sort things out. Another morning and afternoon spent with the girls was just the therapy she needed, even if they insisted on paying for everything. Lily has never been one to receive charity in any form, and prefers independence in all facets of her life. But naturally, Mary and Marlene didn’t listen, treating her to brunch with endless mimosas and mani/pedis at her favorite nail salon.

When it was time for Marlene to take the train back to Dublin, she suggested Lily accompany her to London in two weeks for the semi-annual wedding expo. Marlene has gone to the February expo that occurs every year just after Valentine’s Day, when there’s an influx of newly engaged brides-to-be looking to book all facets of their dream wedding. Of course, Marlene goes to scope out the newest fashion trends and scours the new designs to add to the floor of the bridal shop.

Lily admits that it would be fun to join her, and will think about it since money is an ever-present issue. Even if she were to pay Marlene back—which Marly suggested—she still doesn’t like being in debt to others.

Now, on a crisp Monday afternoon, Lily kicks at the ground while she walks along the riverside. The weather has dropped back to below freezing, matching the hollow, empty feeling that once burned with so much excitement and prospect for her career. She does her best to follow Mary and Marlene’s advice—to keep her head up and not let Sev the slimeball get her down.

She’s spent the entire day on damage control, calling clients who have booked months in advance to confirm their appointments and scouring downtown Belfast for other available storefronts that might be closer to a price range she can afford. Lily even managed another meeting with the original landlord she was about to sign a contract with since all the equipment is already in place at the shop, but it looked like Severus got to him first.

Read the rest on AO3

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Part 2 Steven Hyde x Reader

Author’s Note: I hope you really enjoyed Part 1! Here is part 2 and I’ll put a link to access part 1 if it’s your first time being here. Leave a heart and subscribe to my blog if you want more! Thank you and stay safe, folks. 

Warnings: None

Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/elianamarie-blog

The next morning, Y/N found herself waking up at noon. She cursed at herself because she hated waking up late knowing her day was now gone, but at least it’s Saturday and her day off from work. She dragged herself out of bed and trudged her way down into the kitchen where she was greeted with Red, Kitty, Steven, and Eric eating lunch at the table.

           “Well, good morning, sunshine,” Kitty greeted, looking up from her glass of lemonade. “Or should I say ‘afternoon?’”

           Y/N yawned as she plopped herself in a chair across from her mother. “I was up late last night.”

           “Doing what?” Red questioned like she didn’t have any good excuse.

            Y/N eternally cursed herself as her eyes flitted towards Hyde’s wide ones for a split second. She didn’t think this through. “I-I just couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning.”

           “Again?” Kitty asked. “This has been happening for the last couple months. You might be suffering from insomnia. At first I thought it was because of your finals and looking for colleges, but this has gone longer than that. You might have insomnia.”

           She chuckled to herself, relieved. “Yeah, probably do.” She grabbed a sandwich from the middle of the table and at the bag of chips, dumping it on her plate.

           “Eric, what’s your plan for today?” Red asked.

           “Well, since I’m on my one year of doing nothing, I’m going to answer with nothing,” he responded with no emotion in his voice.

           “Wrong,” Red answered harshly, like he normally does when he spoke to Eric. “You’re going to trim the hedges, sweep the driveway, and fix the dent on the Vista Cruiser.”

           “Dad, that’s like eighty bucks!” Eric cried. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

           “Then it looks like you’re going to have to get a job!” Red said.

           “But that just interferes with my plan!”

           “Exactly,” Red responded slowly. “If you’re going to live in my house you will do as I say. Or you can drive around town with that big ass dent.”

           Eric thought it over for a split second before pointing at Red. “Can’t Y/N pay for it? She has a job.”

           “No!” he said. “She’s not the one who put the dent there.”

           “Neither did I!” Eric argued. “Mr. Fitzgerald ran into me.”

           “And don’t worry, I already talked to him, but unfortunately our insurance won’t cover it. So it falls on you to replace it.”

           “This totally blows, man. I’d rather drive around town with the dent.”

           Red rolled his eyes at his son and turned to face him fully. “Why can’t you be like your sister? She got a job straight out high school working at the bridal store, applied for college in Denver, and has her life planned out. While you sit there eating my food, taking up my heat, taking up space, being a no-good bum.”

           “Red, honey, that’s enough,” Kitty interjected. “Let’s just enjoy our lunch.”

           “Dad, I only stayed because of your heart attack!” He shot back at his ill-tempered father. “You know, to take care of you guys. I could be in Madison right now.”

           “And that’s worked out great so far, hasn’t it?” Red spat.

           “You’re so ungrateful!” Eric said, clearly hurt. “Why can’t you just say ‘thank you’ for once?”

           “I would if you just do something around the house,” he responded, his voice raising. “Pick up on household chores, work and bring a paycheck home, help your mother out, take me to doctors appointments. Anything other than sitting around all day playing you’re your toys.”

           “Red, you’re going to give yourself another heart attack,” Kitty informed him. “You need to calm down.”

           Red put his hands up. “Fine, fine. But I want those chores done today, Eric. And if you half-ass it, I’m going to make you do it all over again, plus cleaning out the gutters and fixing the leak under the bathroom sink.”

           Eric grunted. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

           Red nodded, pleased he won the argument and turned back to his meal. It was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension. Hyde and Y/N just sat there, eating quietly and stiffened. Well, not so much Hyde because it was always amusing seeing Red yell at Eric, but for Y/N it was different. Even though she was used to the constant fighting, their argument had never been this intense.

           “So,” Kitty said, clearing her throat, trying to ease the conversation. “Steven, how’s work going?”

           “Oh, you know, working at the kitchen is great,” he said, taking a chip to his mouth. “Ever since Kelso and Eric left, things have been pretty quiet. We hired a new server so it makes things a little easier.”

           Kitty beamed proudly at him. “I’m glad to hear it. What about you, dear?” she asked turned to Y/N .

           “It’s good,” she responded. “Helping brides pick out their dresses. It’s nice and easy.”

           “Well, good,” Kitty replied and patted her hand. “I’m so proud of you. Although, you’re going to have to leave me to go to Denver.” Her smile turned into a sad one and her voice cracked.

           “Mom, I haven’t even been accepted yet,” Y/N responded, trying to comfort her mother. “Who knows, I might end up going to the college in Kenosha or staying to go to the community college here.”

           Hyde sat up a little straighter, hope filling him.

           “Have you applied to them?” Red asked.

           “Well, I applied to Denver first and then if I didn’t get in, I was going to apply to Kenosha. If that didn’t work out, then the community college here since I can just go sign up.”

           Red beamed at her proudly. “That’s my girl.”

            Y/N smiled up at him. He can be a hard ass, but seeing him smile proudly at her and being the softy he was with her, made it all worth it. “Thanks, Daddy.”      

           “What are you going to study?” Kitty asked and suddenly all eyes were on Y/N . Kitty was hoping she’d follow in her footsteps and become a nurse, but Y/N wasn’t too sure if she even wanted that.

           “Um,” she stumbled, gulping. “I’m not sure. I was thinking either engineering or automotive.”

           “Oh, honey, you don’t want to do that,” Kitty said, handing her another sandwich.

           “Why not?” Red asked before Y/N could. “She’s knowledgeable about that kind of stuff. Hell, I’ve taught her all about cars and the mechanics. Unlike dumbass over here.”

           “Hey!” Eric called out. “We both know that I am not strong enough to hold up a tire.”

           “Yeah,” Red said, dragging it out and glared at him. “I know.”

           “Mom, why shouldn’t I study those?” Y/N asked.

           “Well, you don’t want to work in a man’s place,” she responded. “It’s dirty and hot, and it’s super hard to do. Besides, you’ll just distract the boys from doing their jobs.”

           While Hyde’s mind went to dirty places after hearing the words dirty, hot, and hard, he noticed Y/N getting visible angry.  

           “Really?” she hissed. “You think I can’t handle it because I’m a woman? Or smart enough? If I can do the job, why does it matter? I am not and will not be responsible for the other guys not getting their job done because they’re too stupid to do their job.”

           “C’mon, Y/N , you deserve better,” she said. “You don’t have to work there. Why don’t you work at the hair salon? Or better yet, sell Tupperware?”

           “No, mom!” Y/N said. “I want to do something meaningful with my life. I don’t want to fit into societal norms. I deserve a well paying job just as much men do.”

           “Kitty, let her decide what she wants,” Red spoke up. “We’re not going to be living her life. You didn’t say anything to Laurie when she went to beauty school.”

           “Yeah, well, it’s not like she has many options anyway,” she responded.

           “But I do and you’re trying to limit me?”

           “Oh, honey, don’t take it so personally,” Kitty said, trying to deflate the conversation. “You’re the smart one out of all of us and I just want you to have a better life.”

           “I’m sitting right here,” Eric whined.

           “Yeah, but you don’t what you want to do yet. Figure it out and then come talk to us,” Kitty said and turned back to Y/N . “We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

           “Kitty, you can’t limit her just because you don’t want to her get hurt. That’s not fair.”

           Kitty sighed. “Fine, do whatever you want.”

            Y/N rolled her eyes and stood. “I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going to go check the mail.” She slammed her plate in the sink and stomped out the swinging door.

           “Way to go, Kitty,” Red said and stood up tp put his plate in the sink. “You had to anger her by telling her that.”

           “What, this is my fault now?” Kitty defended.

           Red looked at her emotionless. “Yes.”

           “Well, excuse me for wanting a better future for my baby girl!” She cried. “I’m relieved that we don’t have another Laurie and all I wanted for her was to be safe! But. I’m just terrible mother who can’t control her kids. Is a peace of mind for a mother really too much to ask?!” She screamed and finished her huge scene by grabbing her emergency bottle of wine and stomped upstairs to her bedroom.

           “Aw, crap,” Red groaned. “Even when she’s wrong, she’s right.”

           “Women, man,” Hyde said and put his plate in the sink as well. “From what I learned about women, they’re always right and we’re always wrong.”

           “Well, I’m glad my Donna isn’t like that,” Eric spoke up, also bringing his plate to the sink. “She will apologize to me if she did wrong. She’s smart like that.”

           “Yeah, but she has you whipped like 99% of the time,” Hyde shot back.

           “Not true!” Eric defended.

           “Man, you so are!” Hyde said, laughing. “What happened last week? You wanted to go watch Star Wars for the billionth time and she wanted to see a chick flick. And what did you end up seeing? The chick flick.”

           “Well, if I hadn’t she wouldn’t have let—” he stopped dead short when he saw Red staring at him. “She wouldn’t have let me kissed her goodnight on the cheek. Like the innocent and responsible adults we are.”

           Red rolled his eyes. “Can it. I’m going to check on your mother and if I don’t see you doing what I asked in five minutes, I’m going to put my foot so far up your ass, I’ll be able to control you like a puppet.” With that, he pushed the swinging door open and exited out to check on Kitty.

           “Forman, you should write a book ‘Things Red Threatened To Put In My ass.’ Chapter one: His foot.”

           Eric could only roll his eyes and exit the kitchen to start on those dreadful chores.

           Hyde decided to go check on Y/N once Eric was out of sight. He took the steps two at time until he came across Y/N’s room. He knocked on the door and gently opened the door.

           “ Y/N?”

           She was sitting at her desk, looking over the college pamphlets. “Hey,” she replied miserably.

           He shut the door and sat on her bed. “You okay, man? That was intense what happened down there.”

           “Yeah” she replied curtly, but not towards him. “It’s so typical of my mother to try to control everything I do. I’m not Laurie so she feels like I’m not good enough to make own decisions.”

           “She just doesn’t want you to be like her,” Hyde defended. “You’re the only child that your parents don’t worry because you have your head screwed on straight.”

           She looked at him with a defeated look. “I know, but there’s other ways about it,” she responded and sat down next to him.

           “Your mom doesn’t want you to leave,” he continued.

           “Well, I need to,” she said without thinking about it. She noticed hurt flash across his face. “I mean, it’s not like I want to, really. I want to explore the world and see what it has to offer me, but staying here is not going to give me that.”

           “I know,” he sighs. “It just sucks hearing you talk about it.”

           “I know, I’m sorry,” she said and grabbed his hand. Right there, she wanted to invite him to come along with her, but she was afraid. Afraid that he would run away. Then what if she doesn’t get accepted? Then she’s going to have to deal with seeing him everyday and make it harder for her to move on., but little did she know he was secretly hoping for the same thing. Just like her, he was terrified to ask her. He didn’t want to show too much vulnerability. After seeing what his mom went through, he doesn’t want to get into a relationship and then move away only for them to break up. And then what? He’d be stuck there, or worse, she’d see him for who he truly is and run away. It was easier for him to keep everything hidden than to spill it.

           “Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m going to do whatever I want regardless what my mom says.”

           “Did you check the mail?” he asks, changing the subject.

           “Yeah, nothing yet.”

           He stared down at their entwined hands. “I don’t know why this is so hard for us to talk about,” she said. “It’s not like we’re in a committed relationship. “

           His heart dropped at hearing that, but why? They were both on the same page. It’s not like it meant nothing, but it meant something. It may have even started off that way, but it definitely wasn’t like that now. They wanted to make it official but the sneaking around and hiding it from everyone kind of prevented it from happening. Even if they did, it would be saying goodbye so much harder.

           He knew he was in for it when they started. He had never felt this way about anyone before. And that scared him. He was afraid to lose her which sucked because he never felt that fear with anyone, but she was different. She made him feel at home, at peace. She made him a better man. He was actually happy. Before, he had trouble running in with the law and relatively being a jerk to everyone. Hyde was a good friend, but showed it differently than the average man. When it came to women, he hardly ever got attached. Women would leave anyway once they found out the true him. Or at least, the side that he wanted them to see. She saw his heart, through the wall he built up, and tore it down. With her, he wanted her to tear it down because for once in life, he was able to trust someone that wasn’t within his normal group, but even then this was way different with him. He finally felt safe and didn’t have to be ready to run if he had to.

           She knew that if she stayed here, she would have Steven, but her future would be bleak. She knew if she left the state, she would be able to accomplish so much more. But the thought of leaving him was almost unbearable to her, which confused her. She knew what she was getting into when they started seeing each other. She knew it would be just a fling, but the more they did it, the more they connected; spiritually and physically. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. She wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for him, but she did. Even though they clearly like each other, she didn’t want to suggest anything more in fear of rejection. What if he didn’t feel the same way? It’d be easier to leave, but she doesn’t want to forget him and go without him. If more than anything, she wanted him to join her. The only way she would find out is by asking.

           “Yeah,” he scoffed. “It’d be stupid of us to do that since you might be leaving.”

           “Well, um,” she began, suddenly feeling so nervous that she started shaking. He felt it and held her hand tighter.

           “Are you okay?”

           “Yeah, ‘m fine,” she responded and looked into his shades, even though she was trying to look into his eyes. “Maybe, we…we don’t have to split up.”

           His eyebrows came together which made her more nervous for his answer. “What d’you mean?”

           She took a deep breath. “Maybe…you can come with me.”

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Carnival of Hearts (Part 4/6) ~ Bucky x Reader College!AU

A/N: Hello lovelies! Sorry I’m late. This week was crazy. I plan to be back on schedule this week, but we shall see. 

This is my entry for @buckysknifecollection​​​ ‘s 3k Follower Challenge. Congrats on the milestone lovely! Go check out the blog. Personal fave is Hush (a must read if you’re into soft!Biker!Bucky)

Prompt: Our friends set us up on this carnival date but we’re both pining after someone else and this a bit awkward

Summary: When you’re set up on a carnival date with Bucky Barnes NOTHING turns out the way you expected.

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1708

Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Your phone vibrated as you shifted from foot to foot, impatiently waiting in line.

Bucky: Got a table by the Mega Slide.

Y/N: Still in line. Be there soon! :)

Once you had the three different bags of kettle corn you were practically skipping towards where Bucky said he would be. You took a moment to look over to the Mega Slide line where you expected to see Steve. Instead you saw Jane and Thor happily chatting away as they took tickets and handed out the mats. Disappointed you started looking for Bucky.  

You smiled the moment you felt a set of hands settle on your waist and a broad chest press against your back.

“Looking for someone?”

“Maybe. Have you seen someone who is clearly shirking their ticket taker responsibilities?”

He laughed and tugged on your belt loop to turn you in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you close.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hey, Stevie.”

“I missed you this morning.”

“I missed my muffins,” you hummed.

Steve huffed, making you giggle. You looked up into his eyes.  

“And you. Of course.”

“How about I make it up to you tomorrow morning and then we binge the Witcher?”

“Sounds perfect. But you usually don’t run until late on Sundays.”

“Sam bailed this morning too because he had an early meeting, so we’re going to go together early.”

“Gotcha. That’s good.”

“And actually, I want you to meet him.  

“I am not getting up with you at five in the morning to meet your running buddy.”

“I know better than to ask you that. He’s here. I just ran into him.”

He kept an arm around you and started leading you towards the table Bucky was sitting at with someone who you would have known was Sam based on the lovesick look on his face.

Oh.

Well this was going to be interesting.

“Seriously though, I thought you were working for another hour,” you questioned as you walked towards your date and the object of his affections.  

“Thor took over early so he could spend time with Jane,” Steve explained.

“Mm. That makes sense. They’re so cute together,” you sighed as you looked over at them.

“Yeah they are. They want to get dinner with us next week. I told them I’d check with you but probably Thursday after your six o’clock?”

“Thursday is perfect.”  

“Great. I’ll set it up with Thor.”

You smiled and turned your attention to the table he was leading you to. Sam and Bucky were giggling together as they ate funnel cake, knees brushing as they sat facing each other at the picnic table.

“So the guy on the left is Sam my running buddy. And then the guy in the denim jacket is his roommate Bucky. Sam’s totally in love with him and he’s really obvious about it based on the ten minutes I spent with them. And the fact that other people have told them they’re a cute couple which bugs Sam. It will kinda seem like Bucky’s into him too, but he’s straight.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Steve looked back in concern.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You panicked. And patted your pockets to make it seem like you were looking for something before laughing and holding up your left hand.

“Thought I lost my phone for a second.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“No idea.”

He held his hand out to you and you took it and intertwined your fingers. When you finally got to the table Bucky flashed you a smile but there was a bit of anxiety in his gaze.

“Hey, Steve. Finally found her hmm?” Sam smirked.

“Yep. Sam, Bucky. This is y/n.”

“Nice to meet you. Steve never shuts up about you.”

“That’s not true,” Steve grumbled.

You winced internally, but played it off.

“Nice to meet you too. Guess you guys will have to run faster if there’s so much time for talking.”

You turned to Bucky and smirked.

“Is that my funnel cake?”

“Yup. Is that my kettle corn?”

“Caramel as requested.”

Sam and Steve looked back and forth between the two of you as you traded food.

“Wait. You two know each other?”

“Oh yeah. We go way back,” You grinned.

“Really?” Sam arched an eyebrow.

“Mhmm. About four hours.”

“Wanda and Nat bailed on us, so he’s been my carnival buddy.”

“Small world.”

Steve gripped your hand tighter as you swung your leg over and sat down before straddling the bench beside you, keeping his arms around you as he slid you closer. You pulled the funnel cake towards you and ripped a piece off, offering it to Steve - feeding it to him when he refused to let go of you.

Apparently he was clingy without Saturday morning cuddles.

“So, what happened to Nat and Wanda?” Sam asked.

Though he was looking at you, Sam’s entire body was turned towards Bucky and his hand was resting on his knee. You felt like you were going to vibrate out of your seat.

“Nat got stuck working because someone called out sick. And Wanda had a hair appointment?”

“Apparently they were running and hour behind at the salon.”

Bucky couldn’t keep the incredulity of his voice. You both knew that had been a bald faced lie.

“That sounds like a set up,” Sam frowned.

“Well Bucky is the perfect guy for me,” you faux swooned.

Steve tensed beside you.

“According to Nat at least,” you added with a giggle.

“And Wanda insists that Y/n is exactly the girl I need,” Bucky reported.

“Is that so?” Sam’s jaw clenched and you did a little happy dance.

“Mhmm,” you told him smugly.

A child sobbing cut off Sam’s response. The four of you look up to see a little girl you recognized looking around helplessly and crying. You were on your feet in a second, hurrying over to her.

“Cassie, sweetie, are you okay?”

The little girl, holding her favorite bunny stuffed animal sniffed as she looked up at you.

“How do you know my name?”

Of course she didn’t remember you. You had met her when she was two. You were friends with her father, Scott, but you hadn’t seen him for a couple of years, though you’d been keeping up with his life on Facebook.

“I’m friends your daddy. Are you here with him?”

She nodded.

“Daddy was getting us food. I should have stayed with him. He was talking to someone and there was this puppy on a skateboard. It was really cool.”

“It sounds like it.”

“I followed him but then I couldn’t find my Daddy.”  

She started to cry again. The three boys had kept their distance, not wanting to overwhelm the child but they were watching intently.

“It’s okay, Cassie. You can sit with me and my friends and then we’ll find your Daddy okay?”

“Daddy said not to go anywhere with strangers.”

“That’s smart. And you shouldn’t go anywhere with strangers, but,” you pulled out your phone and quickly found an old picture of you and Scott with Cassie. “See, this is you and your daddy with me and my friend Steve who’s over there.” She looked at Steve who smiled and waved.

“I don’t remember that.”

You laughed.

“Well, you were really little. But I’m going to try and call your Daddy okay but let’s go sit over there.”

“Okay.”

She took your hand and you led her back to the table.

“So, boys, this is Cassie. Cassie, this is Steve, Sam, and Bucky.”

“Bucky’s a funny name,” she giggled.

“I tell him that every day,” Sam told her with a wink.

You let Sam and Bucky entertain her while you turned to Steve.

“I’m going to try calling Scott. Can you call into the info booth on your walkie in case he goes there.”

“Sure thing.”

You called Scott, growling when you got a notice that the number was out of service. Steve’s smile gave you hope he was having better luck.

“That’s great news, Hope. Yeah. Right by the Mega Slide. Perfect. See you soon.”

He turned down the volume on the walkie and gave you a thumb’s up.

“Cassie, honey, your daddy’s on his way.”

“He is?”

“Yup. He’ll be here soon.”

“Yay.”

Her tears were all dried now as Bucky told her a story about Wolfy McWolf, and you couldn’t help but smile both at the adorable tale and the fond smile Sam was giving him. At least one of you was gonna get a happy ending.

“Cassie!”

“Daddy!”

Scott tore through the crowd scooping Cassie up into his arms immediately.

“Peanut, I was so worried. You can’t wander off like that,” he panted as placed her down and knelt in front of her.

“I know. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, Peanut.”

He hugged her close and looked at you all, gratitude etched in his face.

“Thank you for keeping her safe.”

“Of course. And you’ll be proud to know she did invoke stranger danger until I showed her a picture of us.”

“That’s my girl.”

You all chatted for a bit before  Scott and Cassie left for attempt 2 at getting food. The longing look back at Hope was also not lost on you and you nudged her with a knowing look.

“Shut up,” she muttered before pointing at the walkie on Steve’s belt. “I’m gonna need you to sign that back in.”

“Can I do it at the end of the night?”

“Technically, yes, but…”

Steve pouted and you put your hand on his arm.

“Go now. That way we don’t have to worry about it. You can meet us back here.”

He thought it over before nodding.

“Okay. I’ll be back in fifteen?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

He kissed the top of your head, nodded to Sam and Bucky and followed Hope.

“You were really good with her.”

“Three little sisters,” Bucky shrugged.

“Two,” Sam echoed as you reclaimed your table. “I’m actually going to go the bathroom really quick.”

“Sure thing.”

Once he’d been swallowed by the crowd you and Bucky turned to each other, eyes wide.

“Steve thinks you’re dating.” “Sam thinks you’re straight.”

“WHAT?!” “WHAT?!”  

 A/N: So if you’ve read my work you will know that I love idiots to lovers. This one’s no exception. Stay tuned. 

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[youarejesting]

Quarantine.70

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS. until the anticipation kills us all… Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot, or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1.3k Announcement: This is the end of this Arc we have an interlude and then the final ARC begins there is a great deal of events I am so excited to write about so stay tuned

[Part 1] [Part 69] [Part 71] [Tag Yourself Here]

Mister Dong walked you to the elevator and you took out your phone and began recording hoping to catch a confession to use against him. “Did you tip off the press?”

“Not me, But it happened at the right time, someone else ratted on you, before you could affect the boys career.” He sneered

“You're an asshole, you know that right, I perpetually hate you,” you smiled at him as you got into his car. “The anger is bubbling inside me and I hope you know I won’t go down without a fight”

“I know, that’s why I have an ultimatum, you leave for good from South Korea and take this money and I will let your brother and Areum keep their jobs” he smirked, “think about that.”

“So you're threatening me and my family, that if I don’t leave the country you will fire my brother and his girlfriend?” You were beyond furious with the man, what the hell did he think he was doing, why was he trying to sabotage the boys and yourself. What the hell did he gain? The more you pondered the more you wondered if he was actually working for another company.

He pulled up outside your brother's home and you stepped out phone ringing. Answering you gave mister Dong the finger as he left in his car. “Hello Mal-chin are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” His voice was shaking, he sounded close to tears but not from sadness, he almost sounded like he was in shock “that article, I just saw it. It's from my dad's Pen name. He is a reporter. I didn’t think he would do something like this, I am so sorry?”

“It’s okay, I hated being treated like some kind of saint and getting awards, whilst keeping such a big thing a secret” There really was something freeing about finally getting the judgement you deserved.

“You don’t hate me?” His voice was so tiny and unsure, you smiled softly, no longer feeling the weight on your shoulders but you felt a little sick. Sick that he had to deal with the negative sides of his father's work.

“No I don’t hate you” you sighed, phone buzzing, “I have to go I have another call”

“Hey, Y/n, don’t worry, we have just posted the official article about what happened. The new report says our officers are responsible for shooting the man and you were just present we spun the story a little to pardon you from the limelight” 

“I am sending a statement, read it and memorise it if any reporters ask you to tell them exactly what is written” you agreed and quickly hung up. 

“I was there, with former captain Won-shik and his team, mister Kim Seokjin and we had just rescued Jeon Jungkook, who had been taken by Mister Choi’s people we were heading back in a peaceful rescue mission to retrieve him when we ran straight into Mister Choi he held a gun to Seokjin’s head and told us to stay back. As we were trying to negotiate I got to close and he shot me in the leg while the soldier shot him before he could kill anyone else” You mumbled it felt a little like a lie but the officer on the phone said you were working with Major Won-shik and a part of the team so they consider you in that moment a soldier and are keeping it ambiguous. 

Thanking that you had a spare key to your brothers new house, you headed inside and took a seat on the couch. Jungkook facetimed you, you could see him and Taehyung sitting on the couch in the living room. “Can you sneak over?”

“Not tonight boys, Mister Dong has banned me from seeing you. He is threatening Areum and Thomas’ jobs, I am wondering what I should do?”

“What do you mean wondering?” Yoongi hissed snatching the phone and looking at you through the screen. “If you are even contemplating it then clearly we are dispensable and you should just leave”

“Woah Yoongi that is harsh,” Hoseok said as Jimin tried to calm him down. “We all were contemplating quitting for her and she isn’t thinking the same way?” “Listen if it was my job on the line I would, but it is my brothers and his girlfriend. I would never kill someone to save myself’

“That’s funny, the news says you would” He spat, throwing the phone onto the couch you assumed he left judging by the others calling out his name, Taehyung called your name but you hung up.

Everyone was too stressed but that was such a childish way to handle the situation. You called your brother, hoping the three of you could come to a decision. Needless to say the two refused to let you sacrifice your happiness for their jobs.

~

It had been almost an entire week since you had spoken to the boys, of course they texted you and you texted politely back but you were working through things. Mostly paperwork with Doctor Chang at his little clinic and your liaison with the Korean army was Major Won-shik who was filing the paperwork and you were given a full military scholarship to be Doctor Changs apprentice.

Finally on the friday you were meeting Wendy and Mal-chin after work the three of you were having a wonderful time, eating frozen yoghurt and window shopping, Mal-chin's hair was still so long and you couldn’t see his eyes.

“Hey do you want me to get you an appointment for a haircut?” He didn’t seem to like that idea as in a split second he blanched before trying to tame his expression. “No, it’s okay if you don’t want to, do you want me to pin your hair out of your eyes?”

He nodded and looked up at you softly letting you move his hair to the side retrieving a pin from your hair you frowned, “I only have a little bow clip, is that okay?”

“It will be fine, I don’t know anyone here besides you two. Just don’t make me look silly.” He smiled and you placed them into his hair. He checked his reflection and deemed it appropriate before you each continued on.

“Let’s have some dinner” The three of you had dinner and you walked Mal-chin to the train where he returned the clip.

“Thank you for letting me borrow it” He smiled, “I just don’t want to cut my hair yet, a lot of guys my age have long hair so I want to fit in and make friends”

“I get it, try all these fun things, while you're young, it’s just hair and you have the rest of your life to change how it looks and the colour--” Cut off by a big hug your last words a wheeze.

“Thank you for everything, for just being here even though my dad…” He sniffed eyes watering and he wiped it on the corner of his dress coat sleeve. “If ever you need anything, I will help however I can”

“Well actually, I know your dad is a good reporter, perhaps we can do business, I have someone I want him to look into” 

~

The meeting was called at the end of the week, on Saturday and officially your name was cleared. There wasn’t much to do that morning, Wendy and Mal-chin had already helped pick out a business outfit, ‘something powerful like the girls in Kdrama’s’ Mal-chin had proposed when you presented them with the challenge of appropriate attire.

So here you were feeling bad ass with some heels and it had taken a long time to be able to walk in them again and tight black business pants and a deep purple v neck with cap sleeves. You had your nails and hair done as a group, Mal-chin obviously sitting out when it came to the salon but sporting a navy nail polish.

But you were ready and you meant business, this was going to be one meeting they wouldn’t forget for a long time. Because you had information they didn’t know about Mister Dong.

[Part 1] [Part 69] [Part 71] [Tag Yourself Here]

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[famedexclusivearchive]

[ARTICLE] GOLD STAR MEDIA TO HOST HALLOWEEN PARTY FOR SECOND TIME

Following the media success of Gold Star Media’s Halloween party in 2018, fans and press alike waited for news of a followup in 2019, only for Gold Star to pass up hosting the event for a second year in a row.

Gold Star Media has now announced they will once again be hosting a Halloween party this year with attendees from their own company as well as BC Entertainment and Dimensions Entertainment and several other hot figures in the entertainment industry. According to industry insiders, an invite to the party was a hot ticket after Gold Star’s inaugural event saw such praise for attendees’ exciting Halloween looks.

This year, Gold Star has announced the party will have a theme beyond Halloween; it will be a masquerade ball with a “Modern Fairy Tale” theme. Media insiders suggest an even larger amount of attention will be showered on the event’s red carpet by media and fans this year.

The party will happen on Halloween night at an undisclosed venue.

ADMIN NOTES:

It’s time for a Halloween event! Gold Star Media has decided to follow up their successful 2018 Halloween party with another one two years later, this time themed as a masquerade ball. In addition to being a masquerade ball, the event is “Modern Fairy Tale” themed. All idols are expected to attend unless there are major extenuating circumstances such as illness or injury (which should be cleared with the admin, please!).

All attendees to the party are expected to adhere to a roughly creative black tie dress code and are required to bring a masquerade-style mask to accompany their outfit. They are also asked to keep in mind the fairy tale theme of the event, though they may interpret this as they wish; they may choose to dress up in a way that recalls a familiar fairy tale character or simply embody an elegant fairy tale-esque look, and they may choose to modernize it as little or as much as they want. A regular Halloween costume look isn’t expected or likely possible due to the dress code.

Idols will work with company stylists to choose their outfit. They’ll have more say in their look and more freedom than they normally do, but their outfit must still remain public-friendly and appropriate to their group or canon soloist image, i.e. a WISH or Lucid member won’t show up in a daring V-neck cutout dress.

Idol attendees will not be permitted a plus one and couple outfits must be avoided. Idols who serve as ambassadors of brands lending themselves to black tie attire at the time of the event may be encouraged or required within their deal to wear that brand in some way.

There will be a red carpet before entering the event for pictures that will be released as publicity. Group members will arrive at the event with their managers in vans and the rest of their group and photos on the red carpet will be taken in groups and then individually. Appointments at their regular salon will be made available for idols to schedule in advance if necessary. The red carpet will begin at 6pm, while the main event inside the venue will begin at 7pm.

The party will take place at a large modern ballroom-style event venue outside of Seoul proper, which will be decorated with modern, elegant decorations matching a typical modern masquerade ball look with a gold, white, and black color scheme.

Managers and other company employees, including CEO Bang Sunyoung herself for a period of time, will be present at this party, though press will not be allowed inside the venue beyond the red carpet.

Having a masquerade mask will be mandatory, and wearing it inside the venue is encouraged in the spirit of the event. 

Activities & Locations Overview:

The entrance lobby is where all attendees will congregate after exiting the red carpet to have their invitations and identities checked before being allowed into the event.

The main room of the event is a large ballroom set up with elegant decor in shades of gold, white, and black (decor examples: 1, 2, 3). Attendees are free to seat themselves as they wish at the tables places along the exterior of the ballroom, though they are reminded that staff is in attendance at the event and they must be on good behavior. Waiters and waitresses will still be present with trays of hors d'oeuvres such a gourmet cheeses, caviar, spiced walnuts, and crab and avocado toast and flutes of champagne, as well as sparkling mineral water for those who do not drink. A live string quartet has been hired for the evening and they will play a mix of classical favorites, songs from fairy tale media, and spooky classics such as horror movie themes. From 9pm onward, the string quartet will leave and be replaced by a DJ to end the night on a more high-energy note. At this point, the central dance floor of the ballroom is expected to become a central part of the event.

Escape room, a section of rooms of the venue have been set aside and taken over by a top escape room company, who has set up a personalized escape room situation within the venue created just for the event. They’ll allow in groups of six to eight people in at a time to solve the fairy tale-themed escape room. The escape room has a time limit of forty minutes with a predicted 60% success rate.

A lawn outside the back of the ballroom. At 10:30PM, there will be a viewing on the lawn of a scary movie on a large screen. Blankets will be laid out on the ground to keep attendees’ expensive outfits from getting dirtied and a smaller selection of small tables around the outskirts of the lawn will also be available.

A garden also outside the back of the ballroom. This features a walking path through a professionally-designed flower garden. Past the flower garden is a small hedge maze lit by lanterns to keep in the spirit of the event. 

Photo booths are set up throughout the venue which are free to use. The photo booths include a variety of Halloween- and fairy tale-themed props and offer the option to have the photos sent to your phone or printed off in a traditional photo booth manner.

A scavenger hunt will take place during the full duration of the event. A sign in the entrance lobby before entering the ballroom informs guests that there are six small white jack-o-lanterns hidden throughout the venue with numbers attached and guests that find all six numbers for a special code will win be entered into a lottery to win prizes such as tickets to Everland, a free stay at a resort on Jeju Island, etc. (The jack-o-lanterns can be found as follows: one in the ballroom on a table, one in the ballroom next to the stage with the string quartet, one in the entrance lobby on a white chair, one in the garden against the edge of a flower bed, one down an incorrect path in the maze, and one in a photo booth.) Winners of the lottery will be announced at the end of the event.

Timeline:

6pm-7pm: Red carpet for press photos.

7pm~12am: Masquerade ball main event.

7pm-9:25: String quartet as musical guest in ballroom.

9:25-9:30: Short speech by CEO Bang Sunyoung as a host representative before she leaves the event. The presence of staff members grows steadily more scarce after this point as they begin to leave for the night.

9:30pm~12am: DJ as musical guest in ballroom.

10:30pm~12am: Scary movie screening on back lawn (optional, guests may come and go).

Overall:

In game, this event takes place on the night of Saturday, October 31 from 6pm KST to shortly after midnight, but threads and other posts for this event may be started from Sunday, October 4 at 12am EDT / Sunday, October 4 at 1pm KST (the time this post goes up), to Saturday, October 31 at 11:59pm EDT / Sunday, November 1 at 12:59pm KST.

Threads may be continued past the end date, but must be started before then. Non-event related interactions may be conducted during this time as well.

NOTE: All posts related to the event should be tagged #fmdhalloween2020. Remember to use #fmdcall if you want to post a plot or starter call for the event, which I encourage everyone to do!

POINTS AVAILABLE:

As with all events, there are special points up for grabs.

INTERACTIONS: Having an event thread with a starter and at least three replies (starter ▻ partner reply  ▻ op reply  ▻ partner reply) by the end of the event is worth 2 points. This is valid for up to ten threads per muse this time and the threads can take place during any part of the event.

INTERACTIONS: Having an event thread going with someone your muse has never had a thread with before is worth 1 additional point for each thread.

INTERACTIONS: Posting an open starter for the event is worth 2 points. This counts for up to one open thread starter (not a text/sms post) per character.

CHALLENGES & PROMPTS: Completing at least three of the six event writing challenges and prompts found here is worth five points. **Solos you may choose to do for this do count toward your monthly total. (This is an experimental addition to events to inspire threads and may or may not be used in future events.)

MISCELLANEOUS: Posting an aesthetic or headcanon of your muse’s outfit and mask for the event is worth 2 points and does not count toward your monthly total.

You can also earn the normal amount of points through writing self-paras, etc. related to the event!

If anything in this post is unclear or you have any questions, please feel free to contact the admin. Please like this post to let me know you read it.

[madamspeaker]

It’s not a “gate” - The hair/salon thing

I’ve addressed the salon thing in a couple of asks, but I wanted to take a moment to just go through the whole thing separate of those because what this saga has highlighted is a complete failure of journalists to do their work, and the undercurrent of misogyny that perpetuates both journalistic discourse, and how women must present themselves, especially if a public figure.

(This is long, so to spare your dashboards it’s under a cut)

Let’s start with the facts. Nancy’s usual stylist wasn’t available for Monday, so she/he recommended someone else. Nancy’s office contacted him last weekend (Nancy only returned to SF some time on Friday), and asked if it was possible to do her hair. The thing to note at this moment is that the rules governing salons in California started to change from last Friday. The governor had announced limited indoor openings, but to confuse matters some localities were still imposing tighter restrictions. Nancy’s office checked with the stylist, who told them that the rules permitted one person in at a time. He then asked the salon owner who he rented a chair from if he could go into the premises and do the appointment on Monday. The owner agreed to his request on the Saturday. Fast forward to Monday afternoon - Nancy gets her hair done before doing a television interview on MSNBC, and then on Tuesday the owner cries “outrage!!!” to Fox News, bringing along with her a seconds long bit of footage that shows Nancy with her mask around her neck. Naturally the whole thing explodes on Twitter and then across other media (several versions of the story made the top ten shared links on Facebook).

What followed was a failure of journalism to ask follow up questions about the clearly odd parts of the salon owner’s account as relayed by Fox News (a red flag in of itself). In her interview with Fox she admitted she had known about the appointment in advance, but no one thought to ask why she let the appointment go ahead if it so offended and outraged her - she did own the place afterall, it’s not like Nancy had keys or barged in. Likewise, no one thought to ask where the rest of the salon footage was. Why only release seconds worth which rather conveniently showed Nancy with her mask down, and partially hidden under her chin? Could it be that she had worn the mask the rest of the time. No one in the media thought to ask this. It seemed fairly clear to most sensible people on Tuesday night that something with off with the salon owner’s tale of outrage, but the media pretty much took the Fox News version of events at verbatim. Only USA Today raised the points I just did, but alas, they buried them in their write up.

Wednesday saw Nancy fight back, acknowledging that she took responsibilty for trusting the salon (when perhaps she should have had someone else verify what they had been told), but ask yourselves this, would you have verified it elsewhere? She had been to this salon before with a stylist, they were local, she trusted them, and in a situation in which the law was changing, it makes perfect and reasonable sense to ask the professionals in that industry what their status is. On this point there have been plenty of indignant people and bots on Twitter up in arms that Nancy didn’t apparently know the regulations in SF, but a) she didn’t make those regulations (as some seem to think), b) she spends just as much if not more time in D.C., and c) she has about 100 other things on her plate in any given hour, that salon regulations in SF are probably somewhere near 120 on her list after deal with Covid-19, Trump, win the election, save the USPS, try to get a stimulus bill, deal with the federal budget which will need a CR to prevent a shutdown (minutes after I hit publish on this it was announced she had reached a deal with Mnuchin to avoid a shutdown), restore in-person inteligence briefings, file an appeal in the McGahn case (again), Bill sodding Barr,, Russian bounties on US soldiers and so on. She has an insanely stressful job at the moment, her staff too, and it seems more than reasonable for staff/her to ask a professional in the industry about the regulations on salons, when such regulations were pretty confusing to most people last weekend anyway. Nancy’s only apparent “crime” in this instance was to trust the word of the industry pro.

Then of course we have the “she’s not wearing a mask” portion of this debacle. Not one journalist has asked where the rest of the footage is. We see Nancy walk from the bowl to another room, wet hair, phone in hand, and the mask around her neck (slightly hidden by her chin), but we never got the footage of her walking to the bowl, or any other footage from what was definitely more than a 4 second long appointment. Could it possibly be that she had indeed been wearing a mask the rest of the time - that she wasn’t just wearing it around her neck as some sort of foulard meets choker fashion statement. People have asked, “Why did she pull it down?”, and to that I will say, probably any one of three or four reasons. She uses a clip at the back of her neck to secure her masks rather than the ear loops. Maybe it was in the way and the stylist asked her to pull it down. Maybe she had trouble breathing with her face covered and head back. Maybe she didn’t want to get it wet. The point here is that it was around her neck, suggesting that she had been compliant until that fateful video captured moment. The media again though have run with the Fox News narrative that she had no mask. For one, it’s actually visible in the footage, and two, they are blatantly disregarding what they themselves know to be true - that Nancy has been wearing a mask for the last five months. We have the footage and photographs to prove it, not to mention the press also know that she takes down her mask to talk at her pressers etc. The press are playing stupid on this point to satisfy some both sides need in an election that so far has Joe Biden with a good lead. Their wilful obtusity is purely to inject some drama into things on the Dem side for clicks because nothing at present is sticking to Biden. All this leads to me to the misogyny.

I caught part of a radio interview yesterday in which two male hosts had to have it explained to them as to why a woman in the public eye might need a hair stylist more than once a week. One of the men had been perplexed as to why if Nancy needed her hair done she hadn’t just got it taken care of in D.C. were salons are open. It never entered his brain that no amount of hair spray is going to keep a hairstyle in place for at least 3 days (when Nancy was last in D.C.), or that she might need to lie down to sleep, or that hair does actually need washed. Likewise, it never occured to either of them that Nancy turning up to an television interview with anything other than styled hair would be a news story in itself, because here’s the rub, women are damned for makeup and hairstyling and thought vain and shallow, and they’re damned if they don’t put makeup on and get their hair done, especially for television (we all remember the “omg” reactions when Hillary turned up to an event days after the election in 2016 with a bare face). The last couple of days have been full of this crap, with men (looking at you Don Lemon and the SF Chronicle editorial board) especially saying Nancy should apologise for the salon episode. Why should she? She did what any reasonable person would do and asked about the rules. Her error was to take the salon at their word, but by today’s logic the salon’s lie is Nancy’s fault. I have seen more than one man on Twitter admit the facts of the case and still say “she should take the hit”. Would they say this of a man who had been lied to, framed, and the footage sold to a hostile media company? I think not.

And then of course there is the salon owner herself. The stylist released a statement last night backing Nancy’s side of events up. He also revealed that the owner, so “outraged” by Nancy’s appointment, had in fact been opening up illegally since April, had been forgoing masks, and been forcing stylists to work. What also emerged is that the owner had let her licence lapse on the premises back in May (so Nancy had not ended her business as she claimed), and was in the middle of relocating to Fresno -- something the press have gilbly ignored as they report how she has been hounded out of town because of Nancy, and forced to move. Let me say this, not even the IRA at the peak of The Troubles could get people to move that quick, and they had guns. And then there’s the gofundme - which popped up less than 24hrs after she handed the tape to Fox. Naturally the blurb is a sorry tale of woe, of a supposedly single mother forced to move because of the evil Speaker of the House. No mention that she owns three salons, that she’d let the licence lapse on one anyway, is opening one in Fresno, loves her guns (and those ain’t cheap) and took a PPP loan of $12,000 wihilst operating illegally. By the way, at the time of writing this, the gofundme has raised over $80k for her -- which shows you how Trumpers will buy into any bullshit, and how Nancy is a fundraising powerhouse regardless of your party affliation lol.

I appreciate this has been a rather long read, and if you made it this far, thanks! Nancy didn’t do anything wrong other than take the word of a salon in good faith. Should she have known the regulations herself? Maybe, but she has the kind of crazy and stressful life most of us can’t even begin to imagine, and unlike the Presidency, the Office of Speaker doesn’t come with personal maid services thrown in, or a whole West Wing of staff. End of the day, once out of that office, Nancy has to do all that normal life stuff that the rest of us do - shop, go to the post office, buy clothes etc., and now in the Covid era get ready for tv interviews herself rather than a studio stylist do it. Her mistake was to trust someone who has it turns out saw a chance to have a moment of fame, stick one to the woman she ignorantly blamed for the lockdown, and make some money from gullible Trumpers. I don’t know how this story will play out in the coming days. Ice cream lasted a week, spurred on by the far-left and then the far-right. This may have more staying power as Trump desperately seeks some kind of mud to stick to Dems, and with nothing sticking to Biden at present, his 2016 playbook (and the even older GOP one) of blame a woman (in this case Nancy) has been deployed. The problem of course is that Trump isn’t running against Nancy -- but as the press have so depressingly showed, that fact hasn’t stopped them from elevating one trip to a salon above 180k+ dead, Melania using a prvate email server (!!!, I mean come the fuck onnnnnnn, this after 2016!!!?!?!?), or Trump telling people to committ a felony and vote twice.

[hobiwonder]

~Surprise~ | (m)

read insomnia first if you would like to get a contextual background

accidentally deleted the text when editing dggfdfdfdd.

Words: 2k

pairing: tae x reader

warnings: oral

You were nervous. To say the least. It’s not like this was the first time you had gone to the waxing salon but it definitely was the first time for you to get waxed down there.And for a boy no less? Yeah, even more rare. Usually you just used a razor and called it a day when the situation down under got a little too prickly. More so to stop Taehyung from whining like a baby being inconvenienced when he went down on you despite your protests. But of course, you too, were selfless sometimes and decided to alter you au natural state for your boyfriend. This Saturday would be your and Taehyung’s one year anniversary. Well, technically you’d only be dating for half of this duration but Taehyung refuses to not count the times you both had been friends with… benefits of sorts, claiming that you were smitten with him from day 1. Yeah, you couldn’t believe either that you were dating this man.

Nonetheless, you very much adored that man-child hence the mowing of the garden down there. While Taehyung never explicitly asked you to shave yourself clean, you could tell that he would enjoy that immensely. Especially from the way his eyes had glazed over when he had been reading the pricelist for the salon you usually kept on top of the fridge amongst other takeout menus. At first you’d laughed it off calling him a horndog for getting turned on by reading about Brazilian waxing. Then he had just let out a weirdly squeaky laugh and scurried out of the room to take a shower which was a million times odd in itself. Taehyung and no snarky remark or excessive pouting? Weird of course. But you being the receptive person you were had finally admitted that perhaps he was too much of a gentleman to request something like this from you. It was different when both of your brains were clouded with lust and carnal desires were being fired from his mouth left and right. But consciously asking you to wax yourself for him? Yeah, he wasn;t going to ask you that now. Maybe when both of you had just started dating? But certainly not now. He’d matured quite a bit since then frankly or maybe he just respects and likes you that much more now. Which, the thought of, brought all sorts of butterflies to your stomach.

And back then, you would’ve laughed in his face and would have said no in a heartbeat. Now? You’d frankly do anything for him. And so you had. Your boyfriend wanted your vagina bald, secretly of course, so you had gone and went through the painful experience to give him bald. And that wasn’t the only reason you were walking slowly towards your dorm, being sensitive and tender down there and all. Just the thought of telling him about it was mortifying. How does one even go about doing that? You’re mulling it all over in your head as you go to unlock the door but find it already open, only hinging it slightly to enter. Taehyung was sitting on the floor, playing overwatch on the computer that he’d set up in the corner of your room because he couldn’t live without playing the damn game at least once a day. You swear you were his sidepiece and the game was who he was actually dating.

“H-hey. Already back?” He was half listening to you as he frantically clicked his mouse and spoke in to the mic attached to his headpiece.

“Jungkook you fucking prick! We were so close to topping the leaderboard. Try to remember these are cartoon tits, not real!” Yeah, this was pretty normal.

“No I’m not going to calm down Jimin-ah. Not since I did all the killing! God, fuck.” Okay he did need to chill.

“Tae? You need some water?” Leaning down to kiss his reddened cheek you can hear the laughter coming from the headset faintly – the boys most likely laughing at him.

“No babe. What I need is for Jungkook to not get distracted by D.Va’s tits.”

“Hey these are actual girls playing those characters!”

“Do you realize how sad and pathetic you sound kook?” Jimin’s airy laugh is the last thing you hear before you straighten up and put down the containers of takeout you’d brought for dinner on your way back. Taehyung still immersed in the game, laughing along, bringing out a smile on your own face.

God. You’d become so different now. Too smiley. Taehyung could just sound happy and you would want to smile and hold his hands. Eugh. What had he done to you.

“Why are you looking horrified at the food? Is it not what you ordered?” Snapping out of your inner monologue, you just leave the containers packed to sit on your bed and wait for Taehyung to finish his game. There was no way you two were going to eat before he finished whatever round he was doing.

“Nothing. I-I’m fine.” Your wince doesn’t go unnoticed when you cross your legs to try and get a little more warmth around your centre. Your appointment was barely 3 hours ago. Right then, Taehyung is cursing at the monitor before he takes off his headset and looks back at you.

“I swear, I’m going to kill him one of these days.”

“Tae,” you deadpan, “It’s important to separate virtual reality from actual reality. Are you aware?” He’s sauntering over at you to tower above, cocking his head to the side before he leans down, placing his hands on either side of you on the bed.

“Where were you? I thought your waxing only took an hour?”

And everything was rushing back in to your head at the speed of light. You’d done something for your boyfriend which you were so excited about but so nervous to admit. Would he think you were trying too hard? Maybe you just read in to things too much and he is ambivalent to the whole concept? Oh god. Yu hadn’t prepared enough for this. Okay, it was now or never. You were no little bitch.

Just kidding. You just couldn’t keep your mouth in check. “I got a Brazilian wax.”

There. You said it. The cock in his eyebrow doesn’t tell you much.

“A Brazilian wax? Is that a type?” He was adorably confused and you couldn’t believe he didn’t know.

“Y-You really don’t know?” When he’s still just blinking down at you – yeah, this was even more unexpected.

“I got waxed… down there.” His eyes are all but bulging out of his head and you sigh internally. Okay, there we go.

“You waxed your pussy?!” This sounded way less sexy than you imagined and his disbelief has you rolling your eyes. Taehyung drops to his knees suddenly, still looking up at you. “For me? Really?”

You couldn’t believe the amount of adoration in his eyes. Really, this is all that was going to take to have him on his knees? You had to bite back the snort. God, your boyfriend was a simple, one-track minded man. A simple, horny man.

“Yeah. It hurt like a bitch so you better be thankful punk.” Taehyung isn’t returning your playful glare. In fact, he looks way too serious. You recognised this look and it was finally showing. But even after seeing him with such unabashed need apparent in his expression countless times – it never failed to have you tightening your legs, crossing them as you felt the arousal leak.

“Y/n… Baby?” His hands were searing your skin that wasn’t covered by the shorts, massaging your legs and brushing inside your thighs ever so slightly.

“Y-Yes?” your voice was small. Nervous but excited.

Taehyung glances down between your legs, taking a salacious little bite of his pink lips.

“Can I have a look?” Your panicky brain wants to smart mouth him but your ever growing wet pussy wants to shove his face in there. “Can I please see your pussy baby?”

His mouth is sin and his whisper is the silver platter he’s delivering it in. And you’re gladly taking the bait when your legs fall open, muttering a shy, ‘okay’. He looks like he’s about to open his most prized present as he carefully slide down your shorts, rubbing his thumb over your damp panties before shooting you a lascivious look that makes you shiver.

The small moan you suppress only develops in to a bigger one when Taehyung presses down on the button of your clit before sliding off your underwear completely, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck…. so pretty.” The way he looks between your legs makes you want to close them. He’s so focused and almost looks like he’s in pain. “You did this for me baby?”

“I-I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary.” You keep glancing between looking at his handsome face and his strong veiny hands kneading the soft flesh of your mound around your sex. You held back a wince when he slides his thumb down the sides of your nether lips.

“I love it. You’re so pretty,” he suddenly leans down and gives you a little kiss above of your clit, making your body jerk forward.

“Does it still hurt?” Taehyung slips his finger downwards to gather some of the wetness that had been leaking and you’re mortified. He hadn’t even done anything yet.

“J-Just a little tender.” Your voice is small and he can tell you’re still shy.

“You’re so pink and pretty, y/n. No need to be embarrassed.” His teasing little chuckle has you hitting his shoulder when your foot which he effectively secures on his shoulder.

“Be thankful I did this for you. I would’ve never gotten waxed.. there otherwise.”

“Gladly. All I want to do is thank you baby.” His cheesy line doesn’t get a retort when he starts kissing all around your core with his addictive mouth, shutting you up and instead making it difficult for you to breathe.

“You’re so wet baby. Do you want me to clean you up, hm? Fuck… your pussy looks so pretty I don’t even want to put my cock in here and ruin it.” That makes you whine in protest and Taehyung just chuckles away before giving your mound a hot lick.

“Mm. This is even better with you all smooth like this… I can eat you forever babe.”

You’re biting your own lips and looking down at Taehyung who looks so sinful you can feel the arousal dripping out of you. Gosh, he was so hot. His tongue had started to lick fat stripes all over your pussy now, catching your arousal in strings on his tongue.

“Does it feel better if I lick here now? Hm? How about this.” His tongue rests heavily beneath your entrance before he drags it upwards to your slit and stops at your clit, making you lose your mind as your whimpers get louder and more frequent.

“S-So good- ah.” He’s watching your expression as he licks and prods at the folds surrounding your clit – your labia, lips of your pussy. When he starts to moan along with each clit you can’t help the gush of liquid pouring out of your clenching pussy.

“You’re so sticky and wet baby. I love eating your cunt. All mine.” He’s growling his possessive words and your legs are coming to together to trap his head in as your hands find purchase on to the bedsheets underneath you. But before then can clamp shut, he’s pushing them apart and pinning them down while continuing to gorge himself on you. His chin was wet with your arousal and you were so close to cumming – you wanted him to get inside you already.

“T-Tae, please. I need you.”

“And I need to eat this cunt y/n. Don’t deny me.” He’s latching his lips on to your clit, forming a vacuum like sucking before he pulls back his mouth, dragging your flesh with it. The pressure is so intense you thought you might start hyperventilating soon.

“I’m so close,” Your whimper doesn’t make him speed up though. He’s taking his time, enjoying his leisurely pace, licking deep inside your folds until they were wet again with your juices to start all over again. You were whimpering with no apprehension now, bucking your hips in his mouth as you clutched the sheets for dear life. Being completely bare down there made every lash of his tongue all the more concentrated.

“Stay still y/n. I can’t eat you properly if you keep moving.” He almost sounds menacing as he growls for you to stay still, tightening his hold on to your legs even more.

“Y/n.” He warns again when your hips don’t stop jerking.

“I-I can’t. I’m so close Tae. Make me c-cum. Please.” You’re crying out louder when he starts to drag the flat of his tongue over and over on your clit. His movements are fast and rough, shoving so much desire inside your body as you try your best to keep still.

It’s when he slides his tongue as deep as it can go, caressing your inner walls that you gush all over his face.

“Fuck! You squirted babe. So hot.” His face is still shoved deep between your legs as he keep licking all over your trembling pussy. You’re twitching and crying as your grab on to his hair, not knowing whether you were pushing him back or pulling him forward. Him not backing away was not helping.

“Cum again for me baby. I love your smooth pussy. I just wanna keep licking you. God, you’re so addicting. Give me some more y/n. Come on.” His head is moving frantically between your legs, almost disappearing out of your view each time he dips low to start his tantalising licks from the bottom to the top where he sucked your clit for a few seconds before doing it all over again. You were too far gone to keep watching him at this point.

“Tae, e-enough. Oh my god,” you’re squeaking embarrassingly before you cum again, back bowing off the bed as Taehyung continues to drink you in. Making loud messy noises as he gulps noisily.

You’re sure you’d blacked out for a few seconds because you don’t remember when Taehyung had climbed on top of your trembling body.

“Best present ever.” You’re too tired to respond so you just pull him on top before falling in to a comfortable sleep.

a/n: thots?

[gagosiangallery]

Richard Prince at Gagosian Beverly Hills

January 15, 2020

RICHARD PRINCE New Portraits Opening reception: Thursday, February 6, 6–8pm February 6–March 21, 2020 456 North Camden Drive, Beverly Hills __________ In 1984 I took some portraits. The way I did it was different. The way had nothing to do with the tradition of portraiture. If you wanted me to do your portrait, you would give me at least five photographs that had already been taken of yourself, that were in your possession (you owned them, they were yours), and more importantly . . . that you were already happy with. You would give me the five you liked and I would pick the one I liked. I would rephotograph the one I liked and that would be your portrait. Simple. Direct. To the point . . . Foolproof. I started off doing friends. Peter Nadin. Anne Kennedy. Jeff Koons. Cookie Mueller. Gary Indiana. Colin de Land.

They didn’t have to sit for their portraits. They didn’t have to make an appointment and come over and sit in front of some cyclone or in front of a neutral background or on an artist’s stool. They didn’t have to show up at all. And they wouldn’t be disappointed with the result. How could they? It wasn’t like they were giving me photos of themselves that were embarrassing.

Social Science Fiction.

Another advantage was the “time line.” If you were in your sixties and you gave me a photograph that had been taken thirty years earlier, and that’s the one I chose, your portrait ended up in a kind of time machine. I couldn’t go forward, but I could go backward. Vanity. Most of the people I did liked the younger version of themselves. So the future didn’t really matter. Half of H. G. Wells was better than no half at all.

Who knew?

After friends, I did people I didn’t know.

I had access to Warner Bros. Records and their publicity files. The files were filled with 8 × 10 glossies of recording stars that they had under contract. How I had access is beside the point. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say an A&R guy gave me access, “permission.”

I spent time in their LA headquarters, in Burbank, and went thru the metal cabinets and took the “publicities” I wanted, took them home, put them in front of my camera, and made a new photograph. The first one I did was Dee Dee Ramone.

I did Tina Weymouth, Tom Verlaine, Jonathan Richman, Laurie Anderson. I did the two girls from the B-52s.

Not knowing these people, having never met them, or talked to them, but still being able to do their portraits, excited me. Satisfaction. I spent weeks in the basement of Warner Bros. I thought I had an advantage. My method, if you could call it that, was far more flexible than the regular way portraits were taken. I didn’t need a studio. A darkroom. A receptionist. A calendar. Makeup. Stylists. I didn’t have to deal with agents or the “personality,” good or bad, of the sitter. My overhead was minimal and I could do the portrait all by myself.

By myself. That was the best.

Why I Go To The Movies Alone.

At first I thought this could be a business.

Up till then none of the art that I was making sold . . . or sold enough to make a living. I had just quit my job at Time Life the year before and was trying to make a go of it living near Venice Beach in LA . . . sharing a house with three roommates and living off the occasional sales that Hudson, my friend from Chicago, would make selling my “cartoon” drawings.

This idea of a “portrait business” made sense to me. Who wouldn’t want their portrait done this way?

I continued to do friends. Paula Greif. Dike Blair. Meyer Vaisman. I did everybody’s portraits for Wild History, a book that I put together for Tanam Press of downtown writing. The author’s portrait accompanied their contribution. Wharton Tiers. Spalding Gray. Tina L’Hotsky.

By the end of ’84 it was over.

I’m not sure if it was the lack of interest in me, or in others. (My energy evaporated.) Maybe it was the inability to convince people to commit to a commission. It was a good idea, but after doing about forty of them, I put them in a drawer and moved on. Bored? Restless? I don’t know. Let’s just say it didn’t take off.

Leave it at that.

My cartoon drawings turned into jokes and the jokes started taking up everything. In the end, I think most people would rather have their portrait done by Robert Mapplethorpe.

Thirty years. Time passes.

The social network.

I looked over my daughter’s shoulder and saw that she was scrolling thru pictures on her phone. I asked her what she was looking at. “It’s my Tumblr.” “What’s a tumbler?” I asked.

That was . . . four years ago?

About three years ago I bought an iPhone. Someone had shown me the photographs you could take with the phone. I had given up taking pictures after they got rid of color slide film. I tried digital, but couldn’t make the adjustment. I never liked carrying a camera and was pretty much inkjetting and painting anyway . . . so the idea of using a big boxy camera with all its new whistles and bows wasn’t for me.

Enter the sandman.

The iPhone was just what I needed. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to point and shoot. You didn’t have to focus. You didn’t have to load film. You didn’t have to ASA. You didn’t have to set a speed. The clarity . . .

I could see for miles.

The photos you took were stored in the phone. And when you wanted to see them, they appeared on a grid. The best part: you could send a photo immediately to a friend, to an e-mail, to a printer . . . or, you could organize your photos, like my daughter had, and post them publicly or privately.

When worlds collide.

I asked my daughter more about Tumblr. Are those your photos? Where did you get that one? Did you need permission? How did you get that kind of crop? You can delete them? Really? What about these “followers?” Who are they? Are they people you know? What if you don’t want to share? How many of your friends have Tumblrs?

What’s yours is mine.

My daughter’s “grid” on Tumblr reminded me of my Gangs I did back in ’85 . . . where I organized a set of nine images on a single piece of photo paper and blew the paper up to 86 × 48. The gangs were a way to deal with marginal or subsets of lifestyles that I needed to see on a wall but not a whole wall. Each gang was its own exhibition. Girlfriends, Heavy Metal Bands, Giant Waves, Bigfoot Trucks, Sex, War, Cartoons, Lyrics . . . were all rephotographed with slide film, and when the slides returned, they were “deejayed” and moved around on a custom-made light box until the best nine made the cut. The “cut” was then taped together (the edges of the slide mounts were pushed up against each other and Scotch-taped), the nine taped slides were sent to a lab where an 8 × 10 internegative was made, and from the internegative the final photo was blown up. I’ve probably lost you. Technical stuff . . . application and technique. Sometimes it’s better to leave the “background” out of it. Better to “take it for granted.” Why should I care how a photograph is made?

Only sometimes.

How was it called back then? Sampling?

Primitive now, but back then . . . 50-inch photo drums were few and far between. The paper was 50 inches wide and came in a huge roll. If you wanted to, you could take a roll and roll it down the street, roll it down the sidewalk, roll it all the way down the West Side Highway.

Shakespeare’s in the alley?

No. Philip Roth is in the alley.

Joan Didion is in the alley.

Don DeLillo is in the alley.

What’s up, pussycat?

There’s a lot of cats on Instagram. Food too.

And there’s tons of photos of people who take photographs of themselves. (Yes, I know the word.)

On the gram. I was just asked why I like Instagram. I said, “Because there’s rules. And if you break the rules, you get kicked off.”

I got to Instagram thru Twitter.

Twitter first.

I’m not sure when I first started tweeting, but I liked trying to fit a whole story into 140 characters.

I call it Birdtalk.

I used to bird in the early ’90s for Purple magazine and birded in my first catalogue for Barbara Gladstone in ’87.

Short sentences that were funny, sweet, dumb, profound, absurd, stupid, jokey, Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine meets ad copy for Calvin Klein. Think Dylan’s Tarantula. Then think some more and think Kathy Acker’s Tarantula.

Or, don’t think at all. I know I don’t.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I write down the first sentence that starts off my favorite novel.

Relative. I’m not much of a theory guy. But sometimes I think there was a reason why Einstein was a technical assistant in the Swiss patent office.

Let me fill your cup.

Twitter accepts photos, but is mainly text-based. I like to combine the two and tweet both photo and text.

I called the photo/text tweets I was posting . . . “The Family.”

I posted photos of my extended family . . . mother, brother, sister, nieces, cousins, uncles, aunts, in-laws, stepchildren, boy- and girlfriends. I would caption the photos with a short description of who, what, why . . . measuring my words so that they fit into the guidelines of the platform.

After posting the photo/text, I sent the information to my printer and inkjetted an 11 × 14 print of the marriage. I made thirty-eight “Family” tweets.

Distribution.

I placed each “Family” tweet in a plastic sleeve and pushpinned the sleeve to the wall. The wall was at Karma. I put all thirty-eight up. Salon style. It was Saturday. The doors opened at 12 pm. By 12:15 pm all thirty-seven were gone. One to a customer. I kept the one that had my father, mother, and sister in it. (My father and mother were naked, and my sister was sitting in between. My family wasn’t like yours. Hobnob doesn’t begin to describe them.) I sold the “Family Tweets” for $12 each. First come, first served.

Well, well, well . . .

In ma ma ma my wheeeeeeeel house.

I used to stutter. By the ninth grade, the sparkle was in my eye. It got so bad, the impediment turned me into a clam. I slept all day, every day. I wouldn’t get up until Sunday. I waited for Bonanza to come on the TV. I loved the cowboy father and his three sons.

Two summers ago, my niece was working for me out on Long Island and she showed me how to screen save. I didn’t know about the option. What other options don’t I know about?

Screen Save.

This might be one of the best applications in an apparatus that I’ve ever encountered. All-time. Hall of fame. First place. Just what I need. MORE photographs.

Hey kids . . . what time is it?

Now I have a theory.

I was beside myself.

Congratulations.

This past spring, and half the summer, the iPhone became my studio. I signed up for Instagram. I pushed things aside. I made room. It was easy. I ignored Tumblr, and Facebook had never interested me. But Instagram . . .

I started off being RichardPrince4.

I quickly recognized the device was a way to get the lead out. If Twitter was editorial . . . then Instagram was advertising.

A gazillion people.

Besides cats, dogs, and food, people put out photos of themselves and their friends all the time, every day, and, yes, some people put themselves out twice on Mondays. I started “following” people I knew, people I didn’t know, and people who knew each other. It was innocent. I was on the phone talking to Jessica Hart and had just looked at her “gram” feed before picking up the phone. I asked about a picture she posted of herself standing in front of a fireplace wearing what looked to be ski clothes and big fur boots. The post was in black and white, head to toe, full figure, and behind her, above the mantel, there was a portrait of Brigitte Bardot. I told her someone should make a portrait out of this photo. She said, “Why don’t you?”

Come to think of it.

I’m not sure if she knew about my Family Tweets. She might have. I think we even talked about them after she came to my studio for a visit. After I got off the phone, I thought about her suggestion: “Why don’t you?”

I went back to her feed and screen saved her “winter” photo. I sent the save to my computer, pressed “empty subject,” pressed “actual size,” and waited for it to appear in a doc, checked the margins and crop, clicked on the doc, and sent it to my printer. My inkjet printer printed out an 11 × 14-inch photo on paper . . . I took the photo out of the tray and put it on my desk.

Looking at Jessica’s feed reminded me of 1984. Except this time I had more than five photos to choose from. I went back to her feed a second time. I scrolled thru maybe a hundred photos she had posted and looked at all the ones that included her. The one in front of the fireplace was still the best.

Walk on.

Jessica had tons of followers. Thousands. And a lot of them had “commented” on what she posted. I read all the comments that had been posted under her fireplace photo. There was one comment I wish I could have gotten in my original screen save. When you screen save an Instagram image, you can get maybe three, four comments in the save if you include the person’s “profile” icon that appears on the upper left of the page. I decided early on I wanted the person’s icon to be part of the save. But what else could I save?

I went back to my desk and kept staring at the printout of Jessica. What do I do now?

I didn’t want to paint it.

I didn’t want to mark it.

I didn’t want to add a sticker.

Whatever I did, I wanted it to happen INSIDE and before the save. I wanted my contribution to be part of the “gram.” I didn’t want to do anything physical to the photograph after it was printed.

Five cents.

I went back to the comment.

I commented on Jessica’s photo in front of the fireplace, but my comment was one of hundreds and showed up outside, way down at the bottom . . . out of the frame.

If I wanted my comment to show up near her picture . . . how?

I got lucky.

I’m terrible when it comes to the tech side of technology. But somehow I figured out how to hack into Jessica’s feed and swipe away all her comments and add my own so that it would appear under her post. The hack is pretty simple and anyone can do it. You hit the gray comment bar and pick a comment you don’t want and swipe with your finger to the left, and a red exclamation mark appears. You press on the exclamation mark and four things come onto the bottom of your screen.

1. Why are you reporting this comment?

2. Spam or Scam

3. Abusive Content

4. Cancel

To get rid of the comment, you click on Spam or Scam. It’s gone. Just like that I could control other people’s comments and Jessica’s own comments. And the comment that I added could now be near enough to Jessica’s photo that when I screen saved it, my comment would “show up.” Make sense? It’s about as good as I can do. What can I say? Einstein and cuckoo . . .

So now . . .

So now I was in.

Waiting to follow.

Richardprince4 would appear at the bottom of Jessica’s final portrait. My comment, whatever it would be, would always be the last comment. The last say so. Say so. That’s good. That could work. My “in” was what I ended up saying. And what I would say would be everything I ever knew . . . what I knew now and what I would know in the future.

Tell Me Everything.

Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine.

Zoot Horn Rollo. You seem to be where I belong (emoji).

The first three portraits I did were of women I knew. Or almost knew. Jessica, I knew. Pam Anderson, I knew. Sky Ferreira? I didn’t know, but was following her and had been reading about her new album and seeing posters of her album broadsided on sheets of ply on the Bowery and on Lafayette near Bond. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I chose these three. I just had lunch with Pam and had seen Jessica in LA. Sky, I was following because she seemed interesting. There was nothing more. No attraction. No fan. No desire. No date. No wanting anything from her. And the pictures she posted were candid, boozy, and seemed to be letting the viewer in on some kind of backstage diary. She also had thousands of people following her, and I could tap into her followers and follow them. I can do that? I didn’t even know I could follow the followers. Like I said, the hardware was all new . . . and I was just getting started.

The shoreline is never the same. (Like it should be.)

When I first started getting rid of comments, I thought the person whose comments I was getting rid of might get pissed. “What happened to all my comments?” I found out quickly that “the getting rid of” only affected my feed. The deleted comments didn’t affect the followers’ feeds. Their comments were still there even though they were gone from mine. All that happened is that MY comment showed up below their photo. Was I allowed? Yes. I guess so. It’s hard to explain. But the process is open, and at the moment, it’s the way it works and anyone and everyone can do it.

The language I started using to make “comments” was based on Birdtalk. Non sequitur. Gobbledygook. Jokes. Oxymorons. “Psychic Jujitsu.”

Some of the language came directly from TV. If I’m selecting a photo of someone and adding a comment to their gram and an advertisement comes on . . . I use the language that I hear in the ad. Inferior language. It works. It sounds like it means something. What’s it mean? I don’t know. Does it have to mean anything at all? I think about James Joyce confessing to Nora Barnacle. I think about opening up to page 323 of Finnegans Wake. Then I think about notes and lyricism. Policy. Whisper. Murmurs. Mantra. Quotation. Advice.

Chamber Music.

Didn’t Duke Ellington say, “If it sounds good, it is good”? He did say that, didn’t he?

Who are these people?

Larry Clark, Diane Arbus, Robert Mapplethorpe take great portraits. I’ve watched Larry take photos and I don’t know how he does it. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I could never go up to a stranger and ask them if I could take their picture. I’ve done it maybe two or three times and didn’t enjoy it. That part of art is in Larry. It isn’t in me. I feel more comfortable in my bedroom looking thru Easyriders and poring over pictures of “girlfriends” that are right there on the page. Page after page. Looking. Wondering. Anticipating. Hoping. What will be on the next page? Will I find a girlfriend that I really like? That’s my relationship with what’s out there. It’s as close as I want to get. That’s what’s in me.

IG is a bedroom magazine.

I can start out with someone I know and then check out who they follow or who’s following them, and the rabbit hole takes on an out-of-body experience where you suddenly look at the clock and it’s three in the morning. I end up on people’s grids that are so far removed from where I began, it feels psychedelic. Further. I’m on the bus. I feel like I’m part of Kesey’s merry tribe. I’m reminded of Timothy Leary’s journals, which I purchased years ago from John McWhinnie, and the concentration that came over me when I discovered his hand-drawn map of his escape from jail. How he literally shimmied on a wire that had been strung up from an outer utility building to the perimeter prison wall . . . and how I would trace with my finger his overland express to Tangier, where he hooked up with Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver and spent the next year seeking asylum in different parts of North Africa, ultimately ending up in Switzerland where his ex-wife ratted him out, and how fighting extradition took up the rest of his life. Wow, now it’s four in the morning.

Tune In, Turn On, Come Out.

“Trolling.”

If you say so.

I never thought about it that way. The word has been used to describe part of the process of making my new portraits. I guess so. It’s not like I’m on the back of a boat throwing out chum.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat.”

Included.

Everyone is fair.

Game.

An even playing field.

“Outside my cabin door. Said the girl from the red river shore.”

Men. Women. Men and women. Men and men. Women and women. Blacks Whites Latinos Asian Arabs Jews Straights Gays Transgender. Tattoos and scars. Hairy.

I don’t really know the score.

The ones I adore.

I just know where I belong.

“Oh, there I go. From a man to a memory.”

How do I tell you who or why I pick? I can’t. It would be like telling you why I pick that joke. WHY THAT ONE? There’s thousands of jokes. I read them all. It takes days to read just one joke book. 101 of the World’s Funniest Jokes. Days. If I get one, find one, like one, out of the 101, it’s a good day.

People on IG lead me to other people. I spend hours surfing, saving, and deleting. Sometimes I look for photos that are straightforward portraits (or at least look straightforward). Other times I look for photos that would only appear, or better still . . . exist on IG. Photos that look the way they do because they’re on the gram. Selfies? Not really. Self-portraits. I’m not interested in abbreviation. I look for portraits that are upside down, sideways, at arm’s length, taken within the space that a body can hold a camera phone. What did de Kooning say? “When I spread my arms out, it’s all the space I need.”

At first I wasn’t sure how to print the portrait. I tried different surfaces, different papers. Presentation? Frame? Matt? Shadowbox? I tried them all. Finally this past spring my lab introduced me to a new canvas, one that was tightly wound, a surface with hardly any tooth. Smooth to the touch. Almost as if the canvas were photo paper. It was also brilliantly white. I don’t think it could be any whiter. And . . . the way the ink jetted into the canvas was a surprise. It fused in a way that made the image slightly out of focus. Just enough. The ink was IN and ON the canvas at the same time. When I first saw the final result, I didn’t really know what I was looking at. A photographic work or a work on canvas? The surprise was perfect. Perfect doesn’t come along very often. The color that had been transferred from the file of the computer to the jet, from jet to canvas, was intense, saturated, rich. If someone I followed had blue hair, their hair looked like it had been dyed directly onto the canvas. Dye job. Rinsed. Beauty salon. It was brilliant, great color. You might call it “vibrant.” The vibe between the image and the process was “sent away for,” seamless, effortless . . . all descriptions I used to use when I tried describing my early “pens, watches, and cowboys.” (Has it really been forty years?) The ingredients, the recipe, “the manufacture,” whatever you want to call it . . . was familiar but had changed into something I had never seen before. I wasn’t sure it even looked like art. And that was the best part. Not looking like art. The new portraits were in that gray area. Undefined. In-between. They had no history, no past, no name. A life of their own. They’ll learn. They’ll find their own way. I have no responsibility. They do. Friendly monsters.

Speak for yourself.

To fit in the world takes time.

For now, all I can say is . . . they’re the only thing I’ve ever done that has made me happy.

http://www.richardprince.com/writings/bird-talk

Close

[teachertanaa]

Just Japanese Things

Having never been to Japan or Asia I didn’t know what to expect upon coming here. I knew that Japan was a beautiful country that had cool vending machines, kawaii characters, and a distinct, worldly-acclaimed cuisine, but I didn’t know how I would feel once I got here. I learned from my exchange in Austria to keep my expectations to a minimum (Austria was great – I just naively imagined it to be a perfect utopia hidden away in Europe’s Alps). I came to Japan with an open mind, and I’m glad that I did.

The week leading up to my departure was not pleasant; I was crying at the drop of a hat multiple times a day (privately). Shit was hitting the fan in Washington, and I thought at any moment Japan could bar entry into the country. When that didn’t happen I began questioning the soundness of my own decision-making skills: Was this really the time to be moving across the world? I was more stressed than I’ve ever been in my entire life. The hazmat-clad travelers at the airport did not reassure me, and I felt fear as I boarded my plane to Taiwan. Luckily, the two Ambien I took kicked in fast and knocked me out for a good 6 hours – medical face mask and all. When I arrived in Japan that hysterical anxiety strangely dissipated. I felt more at ease here. I’ve been in Japan for a month now, and I can already sense that this year will go by fast. I thought I’d tell you some things I’ve come to love about Japan thus far.

Ichi (one): Conbinis

Conbinis are Japanese convenience stores, and they are my favorite place to shop. I have a supermarket near me, but finding what I want can be a struggle as I have to google translate image everything; things at FamilyMart somehow just make sense. Also, Japanese 711s are far superior to American 711s; you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Ni (two): Driving

I’ve never particularly enjoyed driving, so I was nervous about having to drive in Japan, but I’ve actually really enjoyed it! I’m glad that I have a car here, and don’t have to rely on public transportation. Driving on the right-side of the road and making right turns did take some getting used to, but I think I’ve acclimated for the most part. The blinkers are on the right-side of the wheel, so I often find myself turning on my wipers as I take a turn (still need to get used to this). I also really like my car – it’s tiny and cute!

San (three): Hair salons

I don’t want to rub salt in any wounds here – as I know most of your hairstyles are probably looking pretty haggard right now, but I’m here to announce that I had the best haircut of my life in Japan. I’m the type of person who usually leaves the salon secretly unsatisfied; I’ve had many haircuts go south real quick, so I was not excited about throwing a language barrier into the mix. However, I was starting to look shaggy, so I knew it was time to take a leap of faith and schedule an appointment. I wrote a script to follow in Japanese and called a promising salon that had an English website; we struggled for a bit on the phone, but we eventually confirmed an appointment for Saturday morning.

I was greeted to my delight by the stylist’s wife – from Portland, Oregon! I hit the jack-pot and had a translator! The salon was beautiful; it was airy, minimalistic, and spa-like with massive windows showcasing the beauty of the canal. I received the most enjoyable shampooing of my life equipped with a hot towel treatment and massage. I was also able to vent about the corona-virus to Jennifer. As my hair was being cut a swan glided into view as cherry blossoms floated down onto the soft current of the canal – I was so awe-struck by the beauty and harmony of this moment; so captivated that I thought Jesus himself was about to descend in a cloud – letting me know that I had passed the exam, and made it to Heaven.

Needless to say, I left the salon genuinely pleased; Keita and Jennifer are lovely people, and I will definitely be returning.

Yon (four): Onsens

DISCLAIMER: I want to preface this by saying I went to an onsen weeks ago, before the virus gained traction in our area; I will not be going back to an onsen anytime soon! (I won’t be doing much of anything for a while.) 

Japan has tons of active volcanos, so Japan has been blessed with natural hot springs all throughout the country. An onsen is basically a natural hot spring bath where one goes to relax. Some onsens are coed, but most are divided into male and female sections – as you onsen in your birthday suit. Contrary to the stereotypical graduate of Western Washington University – I am not a free-spirited nudist, but I figured when you’re in Japan you do as the Japanese do.

My friends and I started the day with a hanami picnic under the cherry blossoms, and then headed to a nearby onsen. Below, I’ll include a passage on onsen protocol from “A Little Book of Japanese Contentments” by Erin Niimi Longhurst. I’ll also include an online picture I found of the onsen.

For being naked in a bath with a bunch of strangers I was strangely relaxed and unbothered – perhaps that was due to the several alcoholic beverages I had consumed at the hanami picnic. I had a nice time, and enjoyed the inside and outside baths before we headed out to dinner. Going to an onsen is the most Japanese and adventurous thing I’ve done since I’ve been here.

Yon (four): Cuisine

An aspect of Japanese culture that has pushed me out of my comfort zone is its cuisine – for starters I now eat animals, so my diet has completely changed (sorry animals ☹). I don’t eat meat while at home, but at school lunch it appears I’ll have to eat meat, fish, and the occasional pregnant fish whole (I’ll let you know how that goes once I cross that bridge). My first Japanese meal I sadly did not like – it was yakisoba with some sort of octopus or squid sautéed with the noodles; I’m happy to report that every Japanese meal since has been delicious! I’ve even had some beginner-level sushi, and I will definitely be going back to a conveyer-belt sushi place (once the world recalibrates).  Ramen, curry-rice, chicken katsu – all have been oishii! (Delicious.)

Go (five): Being immersed in Japanese culture

Studying in Austria I got to experience different cultures, and I was able to learn a lot. The cultures of the US and Austria are certainly distinct, but they do share some commonalities – the cultures of Japan and the US on the other hand are very different. Sometimes I feel like a fish out of water here, but I like that feeling; that’s how I know I’m going to learn a lot. 

As a foreigner, Japanese culture can appear hermetic: difficult to enter or understand. Granted, I think all cultures can be difficult to understand depending on one’s upbringing. My upbringing has been incredibly western, so I feel grateful that I’m able to experience a culture totally different from my own.

I am out of my comfort zone here, but being out of my comfort zone is generally when I’m at my happiest and most productive. I have now realized how unhappy I was back home; It was nice to live with my family again, but I can’t find fulfillment when I’m a slave to my work schedule, and my only purpose is making money and saving it. I’m drawn to change. I like situations and people who can challenge my understanding of the world, and push me to be better and more confident. This experience has started vastly different from how I imagined it to be months ago, but I am optimistic and excited to be here.

School has been tentatively closed until early May, so I am staying in until then. Feel free to facetime me! That is really my only mode of social interaction for the time being. In my next post I’ll talk about my schools, and English Language Instruction in Japan.

Talk to ya soon,

Tanner

[fuckyeahgakuenheaven]

*flops over* IT’S BEEN A BUSY DAY. I finally finished the fic that’s been making  me question all my abilities as a writer, and I edited the FINAL GAKUEN HEAVEN 2 SHORT STORY. 

Yeah, that’s right, this is the LAST (printed) short story for GH2 that we haven’t shared yet! There are still some preorder mini dramas, the translations of which are already in the works! :D

ANYWAY! Here’s the lovely Takato/Yuki story from Hot Hot Winter Heaven, the Comiket 87 GH/GH2 book. Seriously, Takato always gets THE BEST writing and I’m almost pissed on behalf of the other characters, lol. :D

THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR TAKATO’S ROUTE!

An Extravagant Day Off

Umm. After all, I got the feeling it was different when it came to books.

I had gotten lost in reading the new volume of ZombieChan that went on sale recently, and before I knew it, it was time for roll-call. Even after curfew, I turned on the bedside light and got absorbed in reading the rest of the book. ZombieChan was always so interesting. I knew the story since I'd been allowed to read the manuscript, but I still ended up crying at the same parts.

Still, it was strange. What part of Takato-san had this story come from? As I was thinking about it, I heard a soft knock.

"Asahina, may I come in?"

It was Takato-san! I hurriedly opened the door and Takato-san was standing in the darkened hallway, dressed casually. Maybe he'd just showered, since his hair was a bit wet.

"...May I come in?"

That low whisper was, to put it simply, that sort of invitation.

At my small nod, Takato-san slipped inside. He closed the door behind himself, and after locking it, his gaze stopped at the bed.

"I was just reading."

"...Is that so?" Takato-san's face relaxed into a faint smile. "This is perfect. Asahina, will you accompany me for a bit this weekend? We'll go carousing using the royalties."

Carousing? I tilted my head at the unfamiliar word.

"Let's have a night on the town. It's all my treat."

"Huh!? Is that okay!?"

"Of course. I want to have a good time with you."

A date with Takato-san. And one with carousing. I couldn't refuse. At my deep nod, Takato-san smiled an unusually happy smile and embraced me.

~~~

And so, on Saturday, once classes were over, Takato-san and I left the school island and went directly downtown.

"Let's start with shopping for clothes," Takato-san said and took me into a specialty store with an all-glass shop front. The inside was quiet with Western music playing softly, and the slightly mature atmosphere made me excited. The subdued colors of the shirts and jackets on display gave them a very different look from the clothes I was currently wearing.

Oh, but this t-shirt might be nice. I causally picked up the shirt that had caught my eye and glanced at the price.

...I wish I hadn't looked. It said 30,000 yen.

I drew back my hand in a panic, and behind me Takato-san was also looking at the shirts. But unlike me, who was flustered, he looked as calm as ever. "Asahina, how do you like this shirt?"

"I don't know..." I was scared by the prices and didn't feel comfortable shopping in a place like this. Well, everything I was wearing from coat to shoes, altogether it was about 10,000 yen.

"Did you forget? Today we're out carousing."

"But..."

If I was going to pay 30,000 yen for something, I'd rather go ten times to all-you-can-eat yakiniku.

"Asahina."

I flinched and Takato-san's expression suddenly softened.

"I want to get closure."

"Closure?"

"Yes. The new volume that just came out is the last novel I wrote before we started dating. The one I wrote when I was desperate to keep my mother and myself from being consumed," Takato-san replied, lowering his eyes slightly.

What feelings were going through his mind? But he didn't put it into words and just smiled.

"It's all in the past now. So I want to spend this money foolishly. Please allow me dress you up the way I like and go on a date with you."

It was like playing at My Fair Lady. Takato-san smiled. That self-deprecating smile made something suddenly click.

"Alright! Then, I won't think about the money. Instead, let's make nice memories."

"That's the spirit."

Anyway, it looked like my answer was correct. This time, Takato-san's smile was genuine. "...Let's go here next."

As he spoke with the sales staff, Takato-san picked out clothes for me one after another. First I tried on a British style outfit. The slim fitted suit looked really sharp and even I looked mature in it.

"But it's not quite playful enough."

We switched to a shop with slightly more casual clothes. I tried on all sorts of things like street style, designer fashions, and we finally settled on refined casual.

With the clothes decided, now we needed shoes. Now that it's winter, let's make it boots, Takato-san said, and picked out some narrow short boots. Next was a bag and a watch. Once we had bought some accessories like a scarf, we headed toward a salon where Takato-san had made an appointment.

We went inside the stylish shop which had a unified monotone color scheme and the male stylist asked what would you like today? But I didn't know what hairstyle would be good, so I answered, "Please make it something that goes with these clothes!"

He took a good long look at my clothing from head to toe and nodded promisingly, "Okay!"

Two hours later. I stood in front of a mirror, but I was like a different person.

"Not bad." The stylist seemed satisfied with the outcome after an uphill battle styling my wiry hair, but I wasn't used to new clothes or a different hairstyle, and I couldn't stop feeling anxious.

"Are you done over there too?" I turned around at the voice and saw Takato-san standing there. His bangs which were always up were now falling naturally. Maybe it was because of that, or because of the clothes, but Takato-san seemed different too. It felt like seeing each other reflected in the mirror got us both excited, like we were a couple on a proper date and it was embarrassing.

"It really suits you. You look cute." Takato-san placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear while pretending to look at the mirror.

~~~

"Was it a successful mission?"

"Even better than I expected."

Once the discomfort I had at first with the unfamiliar hairstyle disappeared, I felt it really suited me. And if Takato-san thought it wasn't bad, then I was really satisfied.

Takato-san had used the word closure. The guilt he harbored about his mother, his disappointment with reality, if he could put those in the past, I wanted to help him however I could. Looking back, this would be a nice memory, the way Takato-san wanted.

And this game. I'd started to enjoy it.

"Come on, let's go. Next is your long-awaited dinner."

"Woohoo!" I set off down the street, led by Takato-san. Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind.

"Hey, excuse me, do you have a minute?" A man held out a business card as I blinked at him. "As you can see, I'm an agent. Would you like to try modelling?"

"Oh, no! No thanks!!" I flusteredly ran off in surprise. Takato-san was stopped a little ahead of me and I rushed up to him. "Ah, that startled me. What does he mean, modelling...?"

"What does it say on the card?"

The card I received had the name of a men's fashion magazine even I was familiar with. Did that mean something like amateur modelling? It was impossible. No one had ever said anything like that to me. "...These clothes are awesome," my true feelings unconsciously slipped out. This had to be because of the clothes and hair.

But Takato-san's brows drew together as if I'd said something upsetting. "No, it's not because of the clothes. It's because you're handsome, Asahina."

"Haha. No way," I laughed without thinking. Me, handsome. No matter how infatuated he was, that wasn't true.

"No, it's just hard to see because of your expression and bearing, but you have an attractive face."

"Don't you mean Kuya-san?"

"No, well, Kuya is the same way... but I'm talking about you."

"Takato-san, you need better glasses. Anyway, if we're talking about handsome, I think you're more handsome than me."

"Good grief, you need glasses too."

It didn't look like Takato-san would ever change his mind, but that's how I felt. I thought the word handsome fit people with faces like Joker-san and Kuya-san.

"Then let me put it another way. ...To me, your face is beautiful. It's just the sort I like."

"Ugh..." He said that so calmly right to my face, so I didn't know how I should react. It was the first time in my life someone told me they liked my face.

But, oh. So Takato-san liked my face. My cheeks grew warm and even my ears started to tingle.

"One of things that's interesting about you is how you get embarrassed."

"Normally, anyone would get embarrassed being told they're beautiful and you like their face."

"There's also the common reaction of getting angry because you think I just like your appearance."

"That may be true, but I'm embarrassed."

"You're so innocent."

"Well, excuse me."

"I like that about you too."

Ugh... Takato-san's attack power was high as usual. I turned away my reddened face and a soothing voice meant to cheer me up drifted to my ears. "We're here. This is the restaurant."

The restaurant had a facade that looked just like an art museum. The restaurant's name was written in small elegant letters on the snow-white wall and there was nothing else apart from a silver door. The theme was white inside the restaurant too, with a very simple interior. Only the inside was spacious, with a very high ceiling. I could tell at a glance that this was a high-class restaurant.

I still felt intimidated when we were shown to our table. I was looking forward to delicious food, but I still was a bit uncomfortable. But the moment I saw the appetizer placed on the table, that feeling was swept away. It was food so beautiful I'd never seen anything like it. The two small fried fish filets on the clear plate were arranged just as if they were swimming. Snow was represented by pure white mousse. It looked more like art than food. And it was really delicious. With just one bite, I felt like I had awakened, like something would erupt from the crown of my head.

I couldn't care less about how this place was high class, and how we were a little out of place. The world was as one before such deliciousness.

"It's awesome, it's awesome, Takato-san. Everything they bring out is so delicious it's like a dream come true!"

The abalone, whole chicken, and ham consomme soup was clear and sparkling, but the moment I put it in my mouth, the complex and rich flavor filled my whole body. The dish of foie gras with strawberries was rich, but I felt refreshed by the tartness of the fruit and it was delicious like nothing I'd ever eaten before.

"I'm in heaven..." I murmured in ecstasy and the corners of Takato's eyes crinkled with a soft smile.

"Yes, indeed."

"The horsemeat carpaccio was delicious too."

"The dressing was the best."

"It was! The parts with the walnuts inside were so fragrant and it went amazingly well with the meat..."

Eating delicious food with the person I loved, telling each other it was delicious, this was truly the awesomest luxury. Long live carousing!

It was too delicious and I ended up gushing about how impressed I was to the waiter who brought the main meat course. As we finished the course, the waiter brought a man in a chef's coat.

"I'm very happy you enjoyed it."

Was this man the chef-owner!? I was surprised but happy, since I wanted to show him my feelings of gratitude. And so I ardently went on and on about how delicious it was, far more than I told the waiter before. I thought he hadn't understood my feelings, but the chef smiled brightly and gave an instruction to the waiter.

"Bring the special dessert for my charming guest."

The special dessert was truly special. It was cake and ice cream magnificently decorated with various fruit.

"I'm astonished."

I leaned forward at Takato-san's murmur in a rare enchanted tone. "Me too. This special dessert is really amazing!"

"No, by you."

"Me?"

"Yes. By your enthusiasm. By your energy to move people. I find that part of you truly irresistible."

Unexpectedly, the eyes behind the glasses narrowed with passion. At that moment, I felt like the background colors had instantly faded. Only Takato-san's gaze, no longer hiding a sexual tinge, was extremely vivid. Suddenly, Takato-san extended his hand. The fingertips that reached across the table touched my lips. "There's cream on you."

There was a little whipped cream on the fingers which moved away. My eyes followed the white cream in a daze and in front of me, Takato-san's tongue stretched out to lick the cream off his own fingers. I got a peek of his red tongue. That crude gesture was extremely erotic. A shiver ran down my spine and I unconsciously lowered my eyes.

"By the way, Asahina. Shall we end dinner now?" Takato-san's voice was low. I was sure I already knew what came after those words. "Of course, we'll be staying at a hotel after this."

Saying 'shall we go?', Takato-san offered me his hand across the table. I could see his fingers at the edge of my vision and with a small nod, I took his hand with the knowing look of an accomplice.

FIN.

[goldenjaguarr]

Nails

A/N: I don’t own any of those pics except for the Fenty one lol, so creds to the owners; always thought Erik would be into his girl having cute nails and shit, I dunno; feedback is welcome

Warning(s): cussing? lol, long for no reason

💅🏽✨

“I️ know you not about to touch me with ya nails lookin’ like that.” Your boyfriend Erik lightly pushed you away from your straddling position on his front. You just came out of the shower and tried to love up on him, trying to kiss him but opted to cream up instead at his rejection.

“Seriously?” You pouted and spread your hands out in front of you. Your set was four weeks old and in his opinion “very outgrown” and it irritated him. It was a pet peeve of his as he loved to see your nails all filed and manicured to perfection so you (and sometimes him) made it a priority to get a new set every two weeks. Due to working overtime for the last two weeks, you never got a chance to get them done but you made sure to have a clear schedule this Saturday and made an appointment with your nail tech Tash. She always got you right and Erik was in love with how she always had your set on point.

“I️ really don’t know why you’re trippin’. I️ have an appointment in a few hours.” You finished rubbing the lotion into your skin and pushed off of you guys shared king bed and made your way to the closet dropping your towel.

“Ion care. Told ya ass not to take that shift and get ya shit right but nah. Acting like you need the money and shit.” He muttered the last sentence but you heard him anyway.

You snapped your head to his shirtless form as he lay there feigning innocence with his hand on his scarred chest and his other scrolling through his phone.

“Wanna remind me what illegal activities it is you do for work again Erik? Regular folk like me exist. Asshole.” You made sure to say it loud and clear with emphasis.

He peered up at you in irritation at the mention of his job and your adjectives of choice. “Watch ya’ mouth babe. This ain’t what you want. Why you always gotta throw that shit in my face?” Erik was off of the bed now and making his way to you as you pulled on some underwear.

“Why you always gotta throw my grind in my face huh?” You inquired back and turned to face him and he had his arms crossed over his bare chest towering over your five foot frame.

“I️ didn’t mean it that way and you know it.” He took a step closer and you took a step back.

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” you made a move to get a sundress from your side of the closet but Erik stopped you by picking you up.

“Erik!” You cried out as he slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. He gently threw you on the bed and pinned your arms down at your sides.

“Drop the attitude or I’ll drop it for you,” he sneered at you gritting his teeth making his golds glint but you just rolled your eyes.

“Get your heavy ass off of me,” you tried to move your hands and wiggle out from underneath him but he had you down.

“Not until you drop the ‘tude. Rude ass,” he bit at your chest but you didn’t react not wanting to give in.

“Deadass? Aight then,” he moved your hands above your head and held them down with his left and used the right to brush at your sides. “You really gonna make me do this?” You didn’t answer but instead tried to move again only making him hold you down tighter. “One last chance,” he said but you continued to ignore him.

“Cool,” he said and started running his fingers up and down your sides. You were extremely ticklish and you knew you should’ve gave in as soon as he pinned you down but damn it what he said was fucked up. You bit your lip as he dug his fingers into your sides a bit more and you let out a squeak. He wiggled his fingers faster and you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles. Erik wasn’t upset at all if he was being honest, he just wanted to see you suffer and, not that he would ever admit it, hear you laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you cried between the laughs and tears forming in your eyes. “Erik please! I️ give okay,” you cried out and gasped. He stopped immediately at your surrender and you sucked in a breath. He still had your arms in a tight hold above your head and you sighed. He inched up above your body and pecked your lips. “Still don’t want you touchin’ me,” he pecked you one more time before releasing you and going into the bathroom.

“Asshole,” you murmured.

“Fuck you say,” he called out.

“Nothing,” you yelled back.

“That’s what I️ thought!”

You waited until you heard the shower turn on to pull on your sundress and slip out quickly without saying goodbye much to his dismay.

You were a few minutes away from the mall to kill time and hit some of the sales when he called you for the fifth time.

“Yes Erik,” you answered for the first time. “Left without saying shit and you ignoring my calls and texts. Fuck wrong with you girl?” His yelling blasted from the speaker and you huffed. “Sorry,” you said shortly and you heard him smack his teeth. “That’s all you got to say? You still mad at what I️ said? Is that what this is about?” You pulled into a parking space and sighed. “Bye Erik,” you pressed the end call button despite his protests.

You quickly combed out your brows and filled them in lightly seeing as you left the house before doing any makeup. You dusted some highlighter on your face and finally made your way into the mall shutting off your phone. You wanted him to apologize first and if this was the way it had to be, then so be it, petty or not.

While you were shopping, Erik was preparing for an arms deal and you ghosting him didn’t ease his mood.

His right hand, Ty, noticed he was particularly off and gave him a nudge.

“What nigga?” Erik scowled at him.

“What’s up with you? What shit got you tight now,” he questioned him.

Erik stared at him incredulously. “I️ know you did not just ask me that shit. Mind your fucking business. What you need to do is get to work my nigga.” He looked back down at his phone and smirked to himself as he sent you one last warning text but it didn’t deliver. He gripped his phone tighter and stood up. “Aight! Let’s wrap this shit up!” He barked out the order and watched every one shuffle to get everything into place.

You pulled into a parking space at your nail salon and got out. You decided to turn your phone back on but ignored all of the notifications rushing in. You caught sight of the last text he sent basically saying how he was coming to your appointment if you didn’t answer. You scoffed at his bluff. Erik at a nail salon? That’s a sight for sore eyes you thought and walked into the small shop.

He wasn’t far behind and a few minutes later he pulled up staring at the business in disgust.

“This really where you want me to drop you off?” Ty was staring at the glowing pink sign that simply said “Nails” with a questionable look. After work, Erik told him to drop him off at your nail salons address instead of home.

“Didn’t I️ say to mind ya damn business fool?” Erik didn’t wait for a response and got out of the car making sure to slam the door extra hard.

He saw your tiny silhouette through the frosted glass and hesitantly walked in. His eyes started scanning your body as soon as he walked in the building. You were wearing his favorite sundress because this one in particular, a bright yellow, nothing in your opinion that was too special, showed off your assets perfectly. He likes how it contrasts with your brown skin and makes your cleavage pop just the right amount, how it shows off your waist and growing hips. He especially loved when you wore your hair in a pineapple bun with a matching yellow hair tie or just down like today, with matching yellow hair clips. The boy was just smitten for you in that yellow sundress. So he immediately softened at the sight of you. Any anger he felt melted away and it turned into regret for being irrational earlier.

You were too caught up with the endless choices of nail polish in front of you to notice that someone had walked in the front door. You went to grab at a royal purple color but smelled a familiar musk amidst the strong chemical scent and straightened up. You whipped around and came face to chest with someone much taller than you.

Your eyes went down to his black combat boots, trailing up his black jeans and white muscle tee that put his keloid scars on display all the way to his short dreads that fell in front of his forehead and you finally looked into his eyes behind his gold rimmed glasses.

“Erik,” you said tightly and looked into his big brown eyes.

“Lil mama,” he said lowly. He looked at your glossed lips and the golden highlight that was dusted on your cheeks and nose before settling on your angry gaze.

You crossed your arms and tapped your foot. “Well? What you want?” Your impatience was evident and he groaned; he knew you were waiting for an apology.

“What? A nigga can’t surprise his girl at the nail shop?” You stepped back and laughed without humor.

“Seriously? As usual. You can leave Erik. I️ don’t need the company.” You said rolling your neck and you watched him grit his teeth. Neck rolling pissed him off but he wasn’t here to argue.

He bobbed his head for a few moments before the apology eventually tumbled out. “Sorry,” he basically mouthed. You tucked your hair behind your ears and raised your eyebrows. “Come again. I️ ain’t catch that.”

He balled his fists. “I️ said sorry lil girl,” he barked it out this time but backed down when he saw you recoil. “I’m sorry. What I️ said was outta pocket. I️ respect that you gotta hustle going and ain’t dependent on a nigga. I️ just miss you at home baby,” it rolled out and you felt a weight lift off your shoulder as did he.

You sighed and wrapped your arms around his torso and he followed suit, caressing the back of your head to grip your curls. “I️ forgive you. And I️ won’t take anymore late shifts either,” you said into his hard chest. He sighed in relief. One thing Erik hated was when the person he trusted and loved the most was mad at him but he was glad you forgave him.

You leaned your head up and he pressed his lips to yours. You pulled away and he pressed his forehead to your own. “We good?” He held you a little tighter as if you were going anywhere. “We good,” you said and turned in his grasp. He wrapped his hands around your chest and nuzzled his face into your neck making you laugh. You made a move to grab the purple polish again but he stopped you.

“Nah, not that one,” he said and you smacked your teeth.

“Erik,” you whined. “I️t took me forever to pick that out,” you pouted.

He only laughed. “I️ don’t care,” he said and leaned closer to your ear so only you could hear. “Besides, I️ think I️ have the right to pick what color is gonna be wrapped around my dick tonight,” he said breathily and you closed your eyes as you grew hot at his words.

“Stop being nasty nigga. We not the only people in here,” you opened your eyes back up to see if anyone was paying you guys any attention.

“You think I’m playin’,” he said and released you to study the bottles of polish lined up on the wall.

He passed the primary and pastel colors and went to the glitters, golds, and holos. You playfully rolled your eyes at how he immediately went for the flashy.

He studied them and picked up a gold glitter and walked back to you but stopped to look at other polish colors. He looked at the shades of white and picked up a snow white one and brought it over to you. “I️ want this one on your ring finger and the white on the rest of ‘em,” he said confidently like he knew what he was talking about. You folded your arms. “That’s fine I️ guess.” You shrugged. You walked back to the waiting area and sat with him briefly before your nail artist called you back.

“Hey Tash,” you hugged her and she gave you an air kiss. “Hey hun,” she said uninterested as she looked behind you at Erik. “Is that him,” she whispered.

Prior to, Erik never stepped foot into the salon and the two of you had been together for almost two years now. Not to mention you never really showed pictures of the two of you. It was mainly a privacy thing.

“Yeah girl. That’s my man,” you said looking at him type away on his phone. She whistled. “That’s not just a man. That’s an upgrade.” You smirked thinking about how she was right. They may have started off rocky but Erik was definitely an upgrade from her last relationship.

“What we going for today?” The both of you sat across from each other and she took your hands to drill away at the old acrylic on top of them.

“I️ don’t know. He’s in charge today,” Erik had shoved his phone back in his pocket and pulled up his own chair and sat close to you.

“Aight so, I️ want all her nails white except for the ring fingers but I️ do want them to have some of that design shit. You know what I’m sayin’?” Tash was gazing at him but Erik was ignoring her. “Yeah,” she said and tore her eyes away from him.

“You picking the shape too baby?” He furrowed his eyebrows at your question having not thought about that.

“Uh, that long rectangular square shape you get sometimes,” he said firmly and Tash gave a nod. You giggled.

“Fuck you laughing at,” he said and nipped at your neck. “Nothing. You should just come with me more often,” you said as he draped his arm over your shoulders and snorted. “We’ll see.”

Erik eyed all the tools that surrounded Tash until a clear container caught his eye. “Aye yo, uh, what’s that?” You noticed him pointing at her little box of nail gems and stiffened.

Tash followed his gaze and shrugged. “Oh. Little jewels and stuff. I️ should’ve mentioned it but (Y/N/N) usually doesn’t want all that lately, just the plain polish.” She placed the box closer to him.

“Hey!” You protested giving her a dirty look. “I️ ain’t plain okay? I’m on a budget.”

He opened the box and started picking through the gems. “Fuck that plain shit. You getting some bust down on ya nails this time around. When I️ said design I️ just wanted you to write my name or some dumb shit, I️ ain’t know about all of this. What else you hiding?” He glanced at Tash who stopped fiddling with your nails and pulled out some more accents and accessories.

“Erik, don’t do the most on this set you hear me?” He ignored you and spoke to Tash instead. “We switching this shit up.” He gave her a smirk and she smirked back. “Finally! I’m tired of her and these boring ass nails. Where have you been this whole time?”

“I️ know where I️ am and that’s right here and this bust down sounds expensive!” You interrupted, getting agitated at the “plain” talk.

“Eyes up. No looking at the masterpiece. And I’m paying for this so don’t say nothin’ else,” Erik snapped.

You sighed in defeat and the two of them got back to your manicure and you got into the movie playing on one of the salons flat screens.

The rest of your appointment was Erik directing and guiding Tash on the designs he wanted on each finger much to your amusement and her annoyance.

It took another hour but Tash and Erik seemed to finally be done.

“Yeah, just like that. You like that baby?” Erik’s voice broke through your trance as you tore your eyes from the movie playing on the flatscreen behind Tash and looked at your finished set. “Damn babe,” you looked at the finished set in amazement. Each finger had a different gold accented design on top of the white polish picked out by Erik. Your ring finger on your right hand is what caught your eye though as he ditched the gold glitter polish and had it painted white as well with some gold leaf flakes and a chunky gold crown gem. You were impressed that the man truly had taste.

He looked at you with a smug smirk as you kept your eyes glued to your fingers to study the manicure and you barely noticed when he pulled out his wallet and dropped a couple of hundreds in front of Tash who’s mouth dropped open. “Um- it’s honestly not that much. You don’t-,” she started to stutter out but Erik cut her off. “That’s for all the trouble and keepin’ my baby’s nails lookin’ right,” he said flashing her his dimples and grill before getting up. She just nodded at him until he turned away and nudged you under the table. You tore your eyes away from your insanely gorgeous set to look at her wide eyes. “What the fuck?” She mouthed but you just winked and got up to dry your nails.

“Thank you Tash,” you called over your shoulder. You knew slight details about Eriks work but you didn’t ask too many questions so she couldn’t either.

You sat down to dry your nails not noticing how Erik was watching as you had your attention focused on your fingers. Boy you didn’t know what was about to happen tonight.

You sat under the dryer admiring your set before he broke the silence.

“You gone put those nails to work tonight?” His question almost made you choke and you lifted your face to meet his lustful gaze.

“Stop; we’re in a public setting,” you hissed feeling your cheeks and lower region start to heat up.

Erik scoffed. “We be fucking on the side of the freeway. You ain’t shy.”

“Okay!” You slammed your hands down on the counter and got up. “Goodnight Tash!” You called out and grabbed your purse. “Bye hun! See you in a few weeks. Bye New Mans!” She replied.

You walked out of the door into the hot night and Erik followed close behind. You turned and smacked his hard chest. “I’m not bringing you here again.”

He smiled wide and laughed. “Yes you are.” He pulled you into him and gave you a long, hard kiss before breaking away.

“I️ asked you a question though. You gone put those nails to work tonight?” He repeated himself moving his soft lips against your own.

You hummed. “You know I️ always do.”

[atypical60]

Far be it to not take advantage of Oona’s pre-wedding events to not make it about me. OK?

Remember.  It’s all about MOI!!!!

Anyway, last weekend I flew to Cincinnati for Oona’s Bridal Shower.  You saw a sneak peak at my last blog post but I’m gonna elaborate more on the weekend.

And boy was this a fantastic Bridal Brunch!!

As the Mother-of-the-Bride naturally.

Number 4 is the only one Oona has stressed.  I did that at her shower when we all introduced ourselves.  My sense of humor got the best of me as I introduced myself as “…..as Oona exited my Origin of the World…”  immediately, I was pulled aside and warned in a kind way to NOT say anything like that at the wedding.  (shhhh–don’t tell but I don’t follow rules!)

I took Friday off from work because I wanted a true three-day weekend.  That’s the thing about working in a low-level clerical position—you need permission to get a day off.  In my other places of employment, it was much easier to finagle time off as a freebie—trust me.   I also worked my schedule out to accommodate leaving early on Thursday afternoon so I could fly from Philly to Cincy and enjoy a few extra hours of fun time.

I also took Friday casual to Thursday!  I travel in comfort, but not like a slob! J. Crew and Gabor wigs assisted me!  Mother-of-the Bride travel attire!

It’s not how it started out though.

For some reason, either I hit horrific weather or I have a displeasure of a delayed flight whenever I travel.  I kid you not.  And about 45 minutes before we were to board the plane, an announcement was made that the flight to Cincinnati would be delayed.

Welcome to my jet-sit world.  I spend more time waiting than flying!  I have to say though, that Delta made every effort and boarded us very quickly when the plane arrived!

Besides having an inner hissy-fit, I dealt with this issue by stress eating not one pretzel, but an additional bucket of pretzel nuggets.  Fresh and hot off the press.  The carbs were murder on my gut but felt so good going down.  I also ate a giant bag of peanut M & M’s.  And read trashy magazines.

And an added surprise was that these nuggets of carbs were also drenched in greasy melted butter.  I wonder why the scale isn’t giving me nicer numbers!!

The plane finally arrived and this Mother-of-the-Bride landed after ten in the evening to rain!  I was two for two.  A delay and rain.  It was shocking that a snow storm hadn’t hit!

Cincinnati here I come…

To rain and a delayed flight….

Now…upon departing the flight, one would think I ran to the airport exit to see Oona and Sam.  No.  CVG is a GREAT airport.  It’s so clean and spacious so I couldn’t resist dawdling (now we know where my son, Roman, acquired the gift of dawdle…).  I came across a cosmetics vending machine!  But I didn’t buy anything!

Why couldn’t I find this at Philly airport during the delay?

Then I came across my favorite part of the airport!  Them bones!

Some stop to smell the roses.  I stop to take photos at airports of skeletal treasure!

But it was great to be back at Oona and Sam’s and playing around with my grand puppy, Gracie.

My boo, Gracie.  OMG. She’s so well-behaved..

Oona and Sam are such great doggie parents…I KNOW they will be fantastic human parents!

Friday brought sun and clouds and brisk weather but it didn’t matter.  There’s something comforting in knowing that your daughter and her future husband can brew a great cuppa coffee.  They make it strong—just the way I love it.  And we sat around gabbing before getting ready and heading out to run errands.

The Mr. Coffee is far better than the grandpa Mr. Coffee we have at home.

Even little Gracie was beggin’ for some!

Ahhhhhhhhh…cawfee!!!

Oona had a nail appointment, and since my nails were looking fine, I passed but kept her company while we discussed family and the wedding preparations.

This freakin’ nail salon!  It went on for days!  I was jealous–but then Oona told me the price of a mani-pedi and I was glad to be living in the Northeast where nail salons are plentiful….and far less expensive!

Next stop was Marshalls –Oona picked some workout clothing (I didn’t –I’m lazy).  And I headed for the cosmetics.  Glory be to Gawd—I found two great eyeshadow palettes!

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More on these palettes for my next blog post but boy….at $7.99 each, these palettes were a steal!

We did some food shopping—Sam’s birthday was Friday and his family was coming over for dinner.  Oona looked pensive as she realized time was of the essence—she had to head back to the airport to pick up her best friend and maid-of-honor, Lauren.

Did I say food shopping? I sent this pic to Bonaparte to validate that Pennsylvania is the worst state in the USA because of the State-run, Mob-type Liquor stores!  You can by this at Trader Joes in Cincy!

And that’s where mom comes in—I assured her I could take care of the cake and she could head to the airport for alone time with her bestie!

BTW, this cake is gluten-free, chemical and preservative-free, sugar free, and lower-fat!  Oona added Sam’s favorite candy–Reeses Pieces which are NOT lower fat nor sugar free!  But it was a tasty Birthday cake!

Friday evening, Sam’s family came over for a birthday celebration. Being with Sam’s family is like being with……………. family!!  We all had a great time and I was introduced to a spectacular aperitif/cocktail:  The Aperol Spritz!  This concoction of Aperol, Prosecco, and Seltzer with a slice of orange is the most refreshing drink I’ve ever downed!

You read it first.  Moving forward, the Aperol Spritz will now be called “Mother-of-the-Bride”.   There will be an open bar at the wedding but I may smuggle my private makings!  There’s only 148 calories in one of these!

I drank a lot of them during the weekend.  In fact, as I write this now, I informed the Frenchman that I’ll be stopping at the store for Aperol, Prosecco and seltzer!  He is a bit upset that I am forgoing the beloved Kir Royal but the Aperol Spritz has less calories and with the wedding countdown, every calorie counts!

Saturday was a full day!

Let me tell you something.  Oona and Lauren spent a long time getting their hair perfectly coifed.  Lauren is great with styling and she styled Oona’s hair in perfect beach waves.

I plopped my Jamison wig on—and had extra time to loll around in bed! Oh, the beauty of wigs!

Jamison and Lilly Pulitzer.  You can’t go wrong!

The shower/bruncheon was at LouVino, a Southern-inspired restaurant and wine bar downtown Cincinnati.  What a great place!  The celebration was downstairs in a private room and Oona’s friends, coworkers, future sisters-in-law, mother-in-law and relatives were in attendance.

The upstairs wine bar at LouVino’s. I’m recommending this place to out-of-town guests for Oona’s wedding!

The downstairs room where the brunch was held…

Thanks to Sam’s sisters, the table settings were beautiful..

  Mimosas kept us refreshed and hydrated!

Oh yeah, and water (in the background) also kept us hydrated.  The food was so great that I never took a pic–I was too busy shoveling the Warm Brussels Salad into my mouth!

We played girlie games.  I won Scattergories.  But the best game was where Oona had to guess answers to questions that Sam answered in advance.  For ever wrong answer, a wad of bubble gum was placed in Oona’s mouth!  It was a riot!

It was only natural that I took myself out of the “Guess the Age” game.  I’m no cheater!

Miss Oona getting ready for more bubble gum!  She actually did a great job.  Out of 30 questions, she got 2/3’s correct!

The prize for the Scattergories win..a cute mug and a Starbucks card!!!!!!!!!!! 

Some of the gifts.  Crate & Barrel is very popular–eh???

Happy little wine glasses…

Happy little Oona!

The baking girl was thrilled to receive mixing bowls.  Did I mention I gifted her with a Stainless Kitchen Aid Mixer…just like mine?  I swear the baking is genetic!

This.  This was on Oona’s wish list and she was so happy to receive this!  (Hmmmm maybe she’ll give me her Mr. Coffee machine…)

BFF’s.  They’ve been friends since middle-school.  Two beauties!

This photo of us was taken after I was crying…

..and this is why.  Lauren, Oona’s BFF and Maid of Honor, gifted Sam’s mom and me with embroidered hankies.  Both moms were crying because it was just a touching and generous gift!   I’m crying again!

I was very happy to be in attendance.  Oona didn’t want a shower in Philly simply because she felt that asking my side of the family and her Northeast friends, was asking them to spend too much money—what with the travel to Ohio and the hotel, she wanted to keep expenses down for everyone.  You know—I was very proud of her decision.  I think I raised a very conscientious young woman!

  And the fact Sam’s family has welcomed Oona really made me feel warm and fuzzy inside!

May I present the future Mrs. Butts.  Coming from a very competitive family, it pleases me to have my daughter’s future last name be greatness such as this.  When/if they have children and their children are in competitive activities, they can hashtag:  #MyButtsgonnakickyours  or… #Buttsbekickin’

Some after-brunch fun.  Isn’t that dress adorable?  It’s a Lilly Pulitzer..and those shoes!  The daughter has great taste..and she’s gorgeous!

By the time we got back to the house, the rain came and it was time to head to Sam’s mom’s home for a casual, laid back and fun dinner!

And more Aperol Spritzes!

The recipe?  Three parts Prosecco, Two parts Aperol, One part (a splash) Seltzer and an orange slice to make it nice!

Sunday morning brought forth a bit of a hangover and the flight back to Philly.  Isn’t it funny how when you wish for a delay, the flight is on time?

Gracie was sad to see me go.  I was sad to see me go!

  Minimal dawdling on the return.  There was no delay.  WAIT!  Does that say Air France?  Yeah…but it’s the plane back to Philly…

And despite the timeliness of the flight home, I did manage to get this sweatshirt as a reminder of a great weekend!

I arrived back home Sunday afternoon.  When Bonaparte picked me up, I’m not too sure he was happy to see me because he kept mentioning how tired I looked.  He was right. I had a bad hangover    FOODover, because of all the food I ate.

Yeah. I pretty-much crashed when I arrived home.  Funny how I still think I’m in my twenties sometimes!

Do you ever get sad when you leave someplace and someone?  I was incredibly sad to leave but after I arrived home and unpacked and got to telling the Frenchman about the weekend, the sadness lifted and I felt really happy.  Happy that I was able to enjoy the weekend with my daughter and her future family! And happy to be back sitting next to my husband on the sofa!

And she’s the reason the weekend was a stellar one!  My baby is getting married!

More Mother-of-the-Bride Fun! Far be it to not take advantage of Oona’s pre-wedding events to not make it about me.

[chocolatemillkk]

Super Close (JS)

Request: Ok would you be able to do an imagine thats after the one your did with joe and the song Super Far but its like a year later or something right and hes finally moving on and he likes a new girl but he has a hard time trusting her cuz he had bad experiences but the girl teaches him to trust in love again. i know its weird cuz both girls are y/n lol but pretty please do this? love your writing btw!

A/N: so. I know you sent this like a looong time ago but I just had it on hold for a while. It would be weird considering both love interests are supposed to be the reader but the part about healing from a toxic relationship intrigued me! So I've written something up for it, I hope it's to your liking. Everyone heals differently I just wrote it this way for a quick imagine. Sorry for the wait!

I met Y/N a couple weeks ago when Caspar convinced me to go on a blind date. It was almost approaching nine months since I'd had my last relationship-if you could call it that. It was an unhealthy relationship, I see that now in retrospect. We weren't right for each other and it took me months to come out from that. And I have it to thank for all the confusing issues and insecurities it's left me with. That was why I'd said no to Caspar. But he brought it up every time he saw me until I said yes.

That evening I put in the effort to wear a clean shirt and style my hair from the usual bedhead it's gotten into-I needed a haircut. I was ten minutes early so I found a corner table to wait and scanned the menu to pass the time, thinking about the video I was planning on editing when I got home.

She arrived right on time, I caught sight of her as the waiter led her to the table and I suddenly felt like an idiot. I had thought Caspar was the one not taking this seriously and just setting me up with a rebound girl. But I was the idiot not taking it seriously enough because my date stopped me dead in my seat.

"Here's your table miss," the waiter says, nodding at me before heading back.

"Hey-hi," I scramble from my chair when my legs finally work again. "Joe."

"Hey, Y/N." She leans into my hug and she smells like what I imagine the beach to smell like. "Caspar has spoken nothing but praise for you. He's honestly been talking about you since I met up with him a few weeks ago."

I feel flushed as I sit back down. "He was probably exaggerating. I'm just an average-well...Joe."

I want to pinch myself and I wait for her to roll her eyes but she laughs at my joke instead. She laughs despite the dad factor of the joke and it spark wamrth in my chest towards her.

"I feel a little guilty for doing it so I want to just come outright and say I looked your channel up and watched a few of your latest video. Blame Caspar though-he was going on about you."

Her eyes crinkle as she pretends to cringe at what she's said but I'm surprised to hear that she'd done it and actually admitted to it-my last girlfriend didn't watch any of my videos.

"So then you know I can be an idiot-I don't have to lie until our third date," I say.

"Babe, don't lie on my account. I'll confess I can be an idiot too. The other day I was trying to tap my Sephora card on the underground and I was nearly in tears when it wouldn't work until I turned the little slip around and saw it was the wrong card." She laughs at herself as she opens the menu up and I do too-feeling the nerves shake off. I feel brave enough that I share an embarassing story of my own from taking an Uber here.

When the waiter comes by I take the few moments to watch her decide from the menu. She tucks her hair behind her ears and her eyes are so expressive as she listens to what the waiter recommends.

"Any drinks?" He asks us. Y/N looks at me and we both know the answer-we could already feel the familiarity between us so we could tell it would be a long night.

"Maybe a bottle?" I say and she bites her lip to keep from laughing.

We'd polished the bottle and gone back to my place after and talked until 3 in the morning. That was when she remembered she had work at 8 and left in a rush. Since we were both busy, we hadn't spent as much time as we wanted to together. But every moment with her was gentle and therapeutic but exciting. I looked forward to each moment.

Tonight was a Friday night and I planned on surprising her.

Y/N worked in the financial district and I wait in the lobby of her building. The women are dressed so similarily that I almost miss her but it's like she radiated a warmth I just couldn't miss.

"Y/N," I shout, forgetting this was where she worked. She turns and sidesteps a man who brushes past her with a scowl. I wave my arm and she spots me, her face morphing into delight as she hurries forward.

"Joe! What are you doing here?" She gives me a hug.

"I thought I'd surprise you, I wanted to see you." I say, suddenly feeling self-conscious as her mouth hangs open and she glances back. "Are you busy? Sorry I should have asked first...if you've got some other plans we can just hang out on Saturday? It's alright-"

"It's not that," she puts her hand on my arm which shuts my rambling off. She turns around again, "I just had to run an errand after work but I'm free otherwise! I just...don't know if you wanted to come with me for a manicure?"

"A manicure?" I ask. "You're getting your nails done? I don't mind. I have a sister remember? I've actually had to help her glue glitter onto her nails when I was younger." I feel a humongous sense of relief that she wasn't angry and that I wouldn't be hanging out on my own tonight.

"Really?" She laughs, gripping my arm. "Okay, you're literally my favourite person right now! I tried to convince my coworker to come with me but she hates that kind of thing. You might have to wait a bit but I've got an appointment so not too long..."

I go along as she chatters on and then ask her about her day. It's a short walk to the salon and once inside I pull up a chair beside where she gets her nails done and tell her about what I was up to.

"So what did you have planned?" She asks once we step out.

Shit, I realise I hadn't actually planned anything and I feel my anxiety spike. "What were you in the mood for?" I risk asking.

"I don't mind anything really," she says casually. "I've had a long day so I'm alright with even just going somewhere chill."

"Want to go back to mine?"

"That sounds perfect," she agrees and I'm surprised again with how easy it was with her. If I suggested a night in to my last girlfriend she would have pouted until I agreed to go to a club or a pub or wherever there was music and booze and other men. Y/N seemed to just be happy to spend time with me, just like I was with her.

"Shit you're probably hungry," I say once we reach my flat.

"Sort of," she admits. "But don't feel bad!"

"Did you want to get takeaway?" I suggest.

"I might raid your fridge first," she squeezes past me and into the kitchen. I watch her pull out a few ingredients.

"What are you up to?" I ask.

"Dinner," she looks through my cupboard. "We may as well if you've got all these ingredients."

"I can do that," I move towards where she stands. "Just grab a drink and relax or something."

"I'm alright!" Y/N insists. She takes the garlic from my hands and places it back on the counter. "I'm going to make you dinner."

"At my house? There's no need," I try to reach for the cutting board but she slips it away. "Really Y/N let me make dinner if-"

"Joe," she places a hand on my chest. "I want to make you dinner."

I feel slightly embarassed at the fact that her hand on my chest can feel my heart which beats erratically. The last time I tried to do this for a girl, it resulted in the ingredients for pizza splattered on the floor and many tears. My old girlfriend would never offer to cook for me and never acknowledged it when I took the time to cook for her. The one time she did was to prove a point to me which led to the argument when I found out she was only doing it because she was going to break some bad news to me.

But as I look into Y/N's concerned face, I realise that I need to leave the past where it belongs. Y/N wasn't my past but a bright future and a perfect present.

"Sorry," I apologise for the fuss I was making. I hold the hand against my chest. "I forget-it's hard for me to remember that I can trust people and there's no double meaning to things. That...you just want to cook me dinner because you want to cook me dinner."

Y/N closes the distance between us, "I've...put pieces together from the bits you've told me and Casp has mention. I'm sorry you had to go through something that changed you that way Joe." Tears gather on her lash line and she blinks them away. Looking at her, feeling for me and being concerned for me, I realise that all hope-and love-was not truly lost. Somehow Y/N was helping me restore my faith that I could find love again. That I could be loved again. But to test it...

I brush Y/N's cheek and lean to kiss her. I can feel the softness of her lips, the curve of them as they smile and kiss mine back. I pull away and she sighs as I move to her neck and she runs her fingers through my hair as I kiss her pulse. I can feel the blood pumping through it but the love too. I lean back and hold her face in my hands and when she looks at me her eyes shine with the same love. I reel with how much she had to give me when we hadn't even dated for long. Just because she had that kind of soul.

One person might have convinced me that no girl was ever worth it again, that putting your love and trust in a person was never worth it. But this one person standing right in front of me squashed that notion and tossed it in the trash.

I pull her to me, super close to my heart, and kiss her forhead. Whatever I had been through, if it had just led me to her love, it had been worth it.

[legionnaireslover]

Iceland Travel Journal

Day 9: Thursday, September 20/18

Breakfast was great and we were at the lobby door at the appointed time. It was an extremely cold and blustery day and raining when we were waiting for our guide to pick us up. He was an actual real life Viking descendant called Gisle whose family had been in the Akureyri area since 870 AD. After we boarded the vehicle we swung around to a guest house to pick up another person going on our tour but he wasn't there, so Gisle went looking for him! And he found him! A great guy named Paul from Australia. 

The last person we picked up was a lady from Hong Kong and she had just arrived at the airport. Her name was unpronounceable and she was very nice but very quiet, so we didn't get to know her too well.

Our first stop was just a lookout on the fjord much of which was opened by Gisle's family. 

We then went on to one of the most well known waterfalls in Iceland - Goðafoss. It was spectacular. Not as big as Niagara but very impressive and even better - out in the middle of nowhere with not even a guard rail to impede the view! It was as if you just stumbled across it by accident in the wilderness - your own private discovery!

We had plenty of time to explore it before going on to the pseudo Lake Craters of Skútustaðagígar, which were created in the eruption of Lúdentaborgir and Þrengslaborgir some 2,300 years ago. It was becoming bitterly cold by then and the wind was almost strong enough to knock you over when you were walking! 

Next it was on to Dimmuborgir or The Dark City. The area consists of a massive, collapsed lava tube formed by a lava lake flowing in from a large eruption in the Þrengslaborgir and Lúdentsborgir crater row to the East, about 2300 years ago. It's one of Iceland's most popular attractions. The name means Dark Castle ( because of the shape of the lava structures.). Gisle just let us explore it ourselves for about 40 minutes and the four of us had great fun. While we were there it started to snow AND IT NEVER STOPPED!!

Then it was on to Grjótagjá which consisted of a small cave containing a VERY STINKY hot spring ( the sulfur smell was almost overpowering) and a chance to put one foot on the Eurasian tectonic plates and the other on the North American one! We got a great pix of Dan on one side of the divide and me on the other holding our hands across the gap.

The next stop was lake-filled explosion crater called Stóra-Vítior Big Hell. The lake was created in an eruption back in 1724 in the Mývatnseldar Fires. It was high up in the mountains and of course the snow fall increased expeditiously as a result. On the way up the mountain side. We came across three cars stuck in the snow on a narrow mountain passage. Our vehicle was 4 wheel drive and Gisle had just put studded tires on it the night before so we had mo problem navigating the road but the other cars were not so well equipped so they were blocking anyone wanting to use the road. It was all very dramatic with our Viking guide getting out in the wind swept snow storm in his light jacket and running shoes to help the stranded tourists and get their asses out of a jam. 

Finally we made our way up the mountain side and got to take pictures of "Big Hell" and then it was back down the mountain where Gisle warned the long line of tourists ( in their 2 wheel drive cars) NOT to attempt the climb in this weather.

We made a short stop at some "steamers" that were made up of super heated water at 100 degrees!! And agin the sulphur smell was gaggingly strong. 

The last stop was lunch and a stop at 

Lake Mývatn to swim in the spa waters in the nature baths there.

Lake Myvatn is a mini Blue Lagoon. The mineral waters were milky white blue and made my legs feel like they had cream on them.

We spent most of our time with Paul chatting away and floating around in the water. All together we were there about 2 hours including eating lunch. 

After the spa it was straight back to Akureyri. We were the second people dropped off and we said our goodbyes to our wonderful Viking guide and to Paul our new Aussie friend.

I got a shower while Dan slept. We decided to just eat dinner in the hotel.

The hotel restaurant was lovely and the food was really well cooked. Dan had the cod and I had a very tender chicken breast.

After that was finished we went back upstairs to our room and packed our bags for leaving tomorrow and got organized for going on the whale watching tour. Oh, I forgot - they cancelled the northern lights tour because of weather again but it's ok... we will have a few more times to see them when we get back to Reykjavik. 

Day 10: Friday, September 21/18

Got up early and had a delicious breakfast and bundled up to walk down through town to the wharf to the whale watching tour place only to find out it was canceled (due to bad weather). The good news was that the same company was located in Reykjavik so they offered us a tour in place of our missed one. It is for the free day we have in Reykjavik after we return from the Buubble hotel. 

The weather was so stormy we just high tailed it to the Akureyri Art Museum and had a pot of tea to warm up and then spent the next couple of hours looking through the exhibits. By the time we were finished the weather had improver enough to go shopping for souvenirs and a woolen sweater for me. We met up with Paul again and had a small chat. Found out that he was leaving on the same plane as us, at 4 PM. 

Afterward we walked to a great little house on a hill in town that was a lunch place. The lunch was expensive but a huge amount of food and delicious. 

We trudged up the hill to the hotel and collected our things and took a taxi to the airport. After checking in we went to the departure area and while we were waiting there Paul came in to keep us company until we boarded.

The flight was only 35 minutes and soon we back in sunny Reykjavik and a short cab ride later and we were checking into the beautiful Canopy Hotel.

Very posh and full of luxury! The whole look of it is rustic industrial. The bathroom is to die for!! The shower has to be experienced to be believed. 

We got settled in and then went out to dinner - though nt too far because the wind was so strong and bitter.

Luckily we found a great place to eat called Salon. The food was delicious, the service was perfect and the decor was relaxing.

Both of us were exhausted so we just went back to the hotel and then to bed.

Day 11: Saturday, September 22/18

We slept in until about 8:30 and then went down to breakfast at the hotel restaurant Geri Smart. It was... exquisite with so much selection that no one could eat even half of the items.

After breakfast we went out to get some snacks for later today.

Now we are just about to check out and get picked up for the Buubble Hotel.

Talk to you later...