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rickybowensfever · 3 years ago

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When Josh Missed The Halloween Party

Josh gets sick before they’re supposed to go out for a Halloween Party

Summary: Josh oversleeps for Kelsey’s Halloween Party and misses everything, waking up with a sore throat and fever.

This is a long one!

After a long week of classes, finally it was the weekend. Josh yawned as he walked into his vacant apartment. On Fridays, his classes got done around 1:30pm giving him time to prepare for the night’s activities.

After pulling an all-nighter to finish up his 12-page Philosophy essay due that afternoon, Josh was exhausted. The caffeine had worn off from the large espresso that helped fuel him through the night and up until the morning for his 9am class.

He kicked off his shoes and curled up into his warm bed checking his phone before taking the long-awaited nap he dreamt about all afternoon.

K: Hope your day is going well! See you tonight 😉 Don’t forget the party starts at 7pm!

Josh nodded his head at Kelsey’s text and started typing a reply.

J: got my paper in and gonna take a nap. can’t wait to see you Y

He hit send and placed his phone on top of his night stand, clicking the side button to turn it to silent and set an alarm for that evening.

“Siri, set an alarm for 5pm” he said aloud, in a hoarse tone. He coughed trying to get rid of the hoarseness in his voice.

After his first class of the day, Josh noticed his throat was scratchy. The weather was changing and getting colder which usually meant his seasonal allergies were beginning to act up. So, he passed the feeling off as he noticed his classmates sneezing, coughing, and hoarding tissues.

At last, he shut his eyes and fell into a much-needed deep sleep.

Josh woke up in a panic, sweat stuck to the back of his shirt, pulling the covers off of him despite the shivers going through his body. His head was throbbing, and his nose was full of congestion.

He picked up his phone quickly to read the time.

9:00 PM

“Fuck!” he muttered, wincing at the pain coming from his throat when he spoke.

His phone was full of messages from Kelsey.

7:00 PM

K: Hey, are you on your way?

7:45 pm

K: Babe? Haven’t heard from you. Everything okay?

8:30 PM

K: Figure you’re still sleeping…

8:55 PM

K: Trey just got here. He said you were still asleep. Call me when you wake up 😊

He read her final message and quickly hit ‘Call’; the phone rang in his ear.

“There you are! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Trey tried to wake you before he came over” she said over the loud music.

Josh sniffled into the phone, making a mental note to find where his roommate kept their extra tissues.

“I know. I set an alarm, but I guess I snoozed it” he explained, feeling his head for a fever.

“No worries! The party doesn’t end until midnight. You still have plenty of time” she suggested.

“Ugh, Kels. I feel super sick. I don’t think I’m going to make it tonight. I’m sorry” he said letting out a harsh cough, wincing as the pain shot through him.

“Josh. You don’t have to lie to me. If you didn’t want to come, you could just say so” she barked.

“What? No. I wanted to. Really, I think I caught something. My throat hurts and my head feels hot” he said trying to make her less angry with him.

“Fine. Get better, I guess” she said, and the phone clicked.

Josh looked up at his phone Kelsey Wolff ended the call. He put his head in his hands, feeling the heat coming off his face and sighed.

He was too tired and worn out to fight with Kelsey. So, she could make up her mind about him and he would deal with that in the morning. For now, he was determined to get some medicine in him and blow his nose.

He walked out into the apartment living room and looked around hoping at least one of his roommates hadn’t left yet. Then, he heard keys giggling and the front door opened.

“Hey! Just got off work. The Student Center is hell right now for the Pumpkin Carving and Costume Contest” Drew said closing the door behind him in his Saladworks uniform.

“Dude, thank god you’re here” Josh said, relieved. Drew’s eyes lit up and his eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, are you going in sweatpants?” he asked studying his roommate’s attire.

Josh laughed, “Nah. I’m not going. Got a fever” he said and let out a train of coughs.

“Ah, shit. That blows!” his roommate said putting his bag down and hanging up his keys.

“Yeah, I know. But I need your help” he said walking toward the kitchen.

Following his lead, he nodded, “What’s up?”

“I need you to tell Kelsey that I’m actually sick. She didn’t believe me on the phone” Josh told him coughing into his elbow.

“Ah. You got it! Not a problem. I’m gonna go change into my costume and I’ll be right back” he said, jogging toward the back of the apartment where his room was located.

Josh took a glass of water, filling it up with their Brita and sorted out their medicine cabinet. With a Mucinex box, thermometer, and tissues in hand, he started making his way to his bedroom.

“Alright, how do I look?” Drew said flexing his tight Spiderman outfit.

Josh smirked at him and frowned, knowing how bummed Kelsey had to be that their couples costume wasn’t fully complete. A Lois Lane without her Clark Kent.

“Ana’s being MJ. How cool!” he said, honestly grinning big. “I’ll show you pics. Rest up and I’ll handle the rest, man”

“Thanks. I owe you one” Josh said, sniffling as he passed his roommate.

In his bedroom, Josh turned on his favorite Halloween movie, Scream and let the medicine do its magic. If Kelsey wouldn’t believe him, hopefully some proof would do her good. He turned on the digital thermometer and placed it under his tongue as he shivered under his comforter with a blanket on top.

The opening credits of the movie started, and he settled in for the night. As soon as the thermometer beeped, he heard the front door open and heels cackling on the floor. He shook his head thinking nothing of it. Probably people upstairs, he thought and yawned looking over at the movie.

Continuing his task at hand, he looked down at the thermometer, reading it to himself.

101.0. “Figured” he said, coughing into his elbow.

Suddenly, his door opened, and a white blouse came into his view.

“I’m so sorry” Kelsey said, her Lois Lane badge strung around her neck.

“Kels. You didn’t have to come” he cried, still holding the thermometer in his hands.

“No. It’s my fault. The party had me so stressed that I wasn’t thinking like myself and for that, I’m truly sorry” she said walking toward her boyfriend.

Josh coughed again, “I forgive you” he said, “But I really don’t want you to catch this. If I have strep, I’m contagious”

Kelsey shook her head, grabbing the thermometer from his hands and winced.

“Ugh, that’s not good” she said, “And I deserve to catch it for not believing you”

“Hey! Don’t say that. I just took some medicine; I should be alright for a bit” he explained, sniffling.

“Seriously, let me help. I feel really bad” she said pouting. Josh turned toward the TV and back at his girlfriend.

“Fine, but really I’m okay for now” he said. “We can just hang out then!” she said, enthusiastically.

Josh nodded, silently deciding to stop talking as the pain in this throat got worse.

Kelsey looked around the room and at her boyfriend’s flushed complexion, pulling up a swivel chair next to him.

“I swear this is the last time I’ll offer to help but, a cold rag might help that fever?” she offered.

Josh nodded, curling back into his position. “I’m good. I think I’m just gonna go back to sleep” he whispered, letting out yawn.

Kelsey frowned once again. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to go change” she said holding up her bag of clothes.

Josh looked back at her confused. “Huh?”

“I’m staying the night. No way am I going to let you stay here alone” she said opening the bathroom door.

“Alright” he said yawning and curled up with his pillow and dozed off.

NEXT DAY

Josh woke up to light flickering into the room and his head throbbing. He sniffled which immediately made his throat pain heightened.

He groaned, hoping Kelsey was still here. He grabbed his phone and sent her a text.

9:00 AM

J: Hey, you up?

K: Yup!

Moments later, his door opened, and Kelsey walked in. Her slippers hitting the wood floor of his bedroom.

“Any better?” she asked, hopeful.

Josh nodded, holding his throat. “Nope. I’m super cold” he told her.

Immediately, she put her hand out to feel his forehead.

“Babe, you’re burning up” she said feeling the heat radiate from his head.

She immediately took the thermometer from his night stand, placing it under his tongue.

Beep.

“102. Josh, that’s not good” she said pouting and ran toward the kitchen.

Josh let out a series of coughs, groaning in pain from the soreness of his throat.

Kelsey returned with a cold rag and placed it on top of her boyfriend’s forehead.

“Let me check your throat. You could have strep…again” she said, sounding annoyed now. Josh was prone to getting strep throat every Autumn aside from seasonal allergies and it was getting worse as he grew older.

She turned on every light in the room as Josh opened his mouth. Kelsey looked in his throat, examining it. “Let’s get you to the Health Center. I’ll drive” she said.

“Do we have to?” he pleaded. Kelsey looked back at him, scowling.

“Fine” he whispered putting his hands in the air like he was under arrest and slipped on his sneakers and grabbed a coat walking out of the room with her.

After waiting in the cold office, and getting an uncomfortable strep test, the doctor diagnosed him.

“Mr. Brooks, your results for strep throat came back positive. I’ll give you a prescription to fill and a note for school. You need to rest, take the antibiotic for 10 days and drink plenty of fluids. Once you’re fever free for 48 hours and feeling better, you can return to classes. I’ll give you a week’s notice for the note” the doctor advised.

“Thanks” he muttered, trying not to strain his voice.

Josh walked out to the waiting room where Kelsey sat waiting for him, her eyes lit up. Josh walked over to her with the prescription and note in his hand.

“Strep” he said handing her the papers. “Let’s get out of here. Please” he begged.

Josh was relived when they picked up his prescription and walked inside of his apartment. As soon as they walked in, they were greeted by his roommates.

“Hey! How’s it going?” Drew asked, sitting at the breakfast bar eating his Chipotle bowl.

Josh groaned, opening the door to his bedroom conveniently it was across from the kitchen.

“Strep. He’ll feel better after this” Kelsey said softly holding up the antibiotic bag.

“Again? What a bummer!” Drew said through a mouth full of lettuce and black beans.

Kelsey waved goodbye to Drew as she entered her boyfriend’s room to the sound of coughing.

“Take this” she said opening the antibiotic bottle. Josh nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed with Gatorade in hand. He took a swig of the red liquid, chasing down the large pill and sighed loudly.

“Now, you need to stay in bed and rest” she said, glaring at him.

“I will” he said rolling his eyes, “I already told Carol I’m sick. She got someone to cover my shifts this week until I feel better” Josh informed her, coughing into his elbow wincing.

Kelsey’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Good. No work. Just rest, please” she said picking her nails out of worry.

“Babe, go to class. I’ll be alright now that I have meds” he said shooing her away with his hand.

“Okay, I love you. Feel better” she said kissing him on the head.

“Love you” he said and curled into his bed turning his back toward her.

#halloween sick fic #sickfic #my ocs #sick character #sickfics #sickfic halloween #josh and kelsey #josh gets sick #josh is sick #fever #strep throat #sickfic in college #college sickfic #fluff fic

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badb1tchbokuto · 4 years ago

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Alone, Together

Miya Atsumu x F! Reader

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” Atsumu would like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas he focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

...In which Atsumu experiences his first existential crisis after you reject him at a club.

wc: 6k

tw: alcohol consumption, swearing, mild smut, slight angst, lots of fluff

(crossposted on Ao3)

Thursday, 10:00pm JST

Tokyo is alight and alive. The autumn sun is steadily dimming against a sea of ultramodern buildings and bright billboards that are beginning to light the city in incandescent neons. Crowds are meandering through the busy capital, with tourists slowly walking and stopping at every turn to take photos and gaze at their seemingly surreal surroundings, friends chatting vividly as they make their way to dinner, and employees ambling towards the crowded subway stations to line up and finally make their way home or just find some respite.

You, somehow, are a combination of all three.

Twenty four hours ago, you landed in Haneda from Charles de Gaulle. Jet lagged and bleary eyed, you stuttered your way through customs in your broken but passable Japanese, lost a suitcase that had most of your professional attire needed for the next day’s back to back meetings with investors, then had to be comforted by your driver as you explained the situation in distress all the way to your hotel in the business district of Minato.

You couldn’t help but feel unsettled and overwhelmed as it was after all, your first trip to Japan for professional matters. All your other times in the country had been spent with family, past lovers or on study abroad trips with best friends, but this time it was just you.

Adult you, in your first big girl work trip, in your dream field of fashion, in your dream city of Tokyo.

It has almost been twenty fours since you landed in the capital, and you’ve miraculously survived your first day. Barely. Admittedly you slept in a little too late after downing the entire complimentary bottle of Daiginjo from the hotel by yourself the night before, and this morning you spent over thirty minutes trying to transform your jet lagged mug with a “no make up make up” look only to end up still being asked by the sweet door people if you were heading to a special party. The upside is that the sake made you sleep like a baby, and smartly you paired your unexpectedly dramatic make-up with a killer outfit, resulting in you being recharged and sharp throughout the day, impressing your boss and potential investors alike.

Friday, 8:30pm JST

You had just emerged from your hotel to freshen up after a long day of work, now heading to dinner in Shibuya to meet with friends you’ve studied abroad with who were now living in Tokyo. Clad in a slinky Jacquemus silk dress and your favorite stilettos, you stand outside the grand entrance of the Tokyu Plaza, sending your girls a quick text to note that you got there a little earlier than expected, informing them that you’d be waiting at the restaurant’s rooftop bar instead.

The restaurant your friends chose was on the 17th floor of the building, a French fusion restaurant that turns into a nightclub after midnight and promises to have the best rooftop views of the Tokyo skyline. It seemed especially busy tonight, as there was already a line of young men and women eager to wait just to get into the club despite the area not opening hours from now.

Overhearing hushed snippets of conversations around you, it sounded like some celebrities were going to be there tonight. You brush it off, looking forward to having a moment to yourself to sip on an espresso martini, maybe even a few truffle sliders while waiting on your friends to arrive.

Busy thinking about whether you have time to eat one or three of the sliders before dinner, you absentmindedly made your way to the host at the front of the already buzzing line.

Halfway there, you feel a gentle but firm tap on your shoulder.

You turn, only to face a very toned and very broad chest dripping in two thin yellow gold snake chains layered over a printed silk button down, a piece from Gucci’s latest season. “Impressive.. ” you think to yourself as you lift your gaze as slowly and as nonchalantly as you can to see the man’s face, even though your eyes are probably already dilating in anticipation, because if the chest was already impressive and you were already having sinful thoughts about dragging your tongue on his chiseled pecs then moving down, well then...

“Yes?” You reply softly as your eyes roam upwards, starting with his strong jawline, to his warm, sugary brown gaze, up to his soft tousled blonde hair, and back down to his full lips, his canines and pink tongue slightly peeking out, adorned in a confident smirk that both turned you on and pissed you off.

“Fuck. I’d definitely let you ruin my life..or my pussy.” You couldn’t help but immediately think to yourself.

Without introducing himself, he slowly licks his lips, then cooly offers. “You headin’ up to Ce La Vi? My friends and I have a VIP table up there so you won’t have to wait until midnight to be let in. You can skip the line with me.”

“No thanks.” You curtly decline, irritated and offended that he assumed you needed his help to skip the line, let alone afford to enter the establishment for dinner.

You swerve past him, thinking that he’s another sleazy club promoter. Very attractive yes, but you’d like to think you were past making those types of mistakes at this age. Sexy guy leveraging his social status so that he can two pump chump you then ghost you until he needs pretty girls to fill up his club table? Hard pass.

Atsumu on the other hand, is confused.

That simple line never fails; it’s not aggressive but is still quite direct, and it wasn’t creepy. At least he didn’t think so. If anything, he thought he sounded nonchalant and cool.. Almost like Suna...right? Although he’d never let Suna know that he tries to emulate him when trying to pick up girls. Or that he thinks Suna is “nonchalant and cool.” God forbid he gets roasted on the group chat for yet another reason. Also, isn’t it always a great opportunity to skip the line at some overhyped dining club and get wined and dined by a handsome athlete like him? He’s never really had a problem using that line before, in fact his body count was proof of its success rate, so why did it not work on you?

You definitely seemed like you would be impressed by status and flash, considering you literally made his head turn because of your confident strides, wafting a luxuriously sexy scent. A melange of rose, vanilla, maybe the homemade marshmallows Samu makes in the winter... And definitely a tinge of the special perfume he was gifted by the Tom Ford team that he only reserves for special occasions. Something with tobacco and oud. Plus, he also definitely remembers shelling out 300,000¥ to buy the same Dior purse you had on for his ex-girlfriend last Christmas.

You saunter ahead of him, completely ignoring the screams and flash that followed. “Ah..So the celebrity has arrived.” You think to yourself. “They’ll probably be escorted to some special entrance anyway.”

The doorman checks your name on the tablet and leads you to wait in front of an elevator. As you scroll through your phone, waiting for the elevators to take you up to the restaurant, you see him awkwardly standing behind you, rapidly typing away on his phone, very obviously trying to avoid your gaze.

Unlucky for both of you, you two were the only ones cleared by the front desk to go on the elevator.

The ride up to the 17th floor felt like an eternity, a palpable awkward silence marred by elevator music eerily like the Wii theme song dragged the seconds on.

Atsumu couldn’t wait to get out of the cramped space. He wanted so desperately to rush out and find Bokuto, Hinata, or honestly, he’d even practice his abysmal English with Adriah at this point just to get the hell away from you.

It wasn’t that Atsumu found you repulsive, quite the contrary actually. He found you so goddamned sexy, poised with a distinct self-assured stance that he only knew his former high school volleyball captain to have. You were magnetic, like an invisible force just happened to transfix Atsumu’s attention to you when he saw you standing at the plaza, leading him to follow you to the restaurant, thanking his lucky stars that he was also heading the same way since he most definitely kind of looked creepy staring at a lone woman in the middle of the street like that.

The fact that you were immediately repelled by his kind suggestion to skip the line with him boggled him. Feeling claustrophobic in a roomy elevator decorated in mirrors that showed your reflection from all angles, he tries even more desperately to avoid looking at you, so he resorts to giving a play by play to his brother over text, only to get obliterated by Osamu.

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” He’d like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas Atsumu focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

“Oh well, your loss.” He tries to reason with himself.

As soon as the doors open, Atsumu lets you pass like the gentleman he was raised to be. Okay, maybe he checks you out one last time, because damn that ass... and maybe he also tries to catch a whiff of your intoxicating perfume… but no one had to know that.

He walks away to find his teammates inside the VIP dining area, wanting to just forget about you and move on with his night. You on the other hand, leisurely make your way to the open rooftop bar.

Shortly after, your friends Yuki and Kaori arrive, apologizing for their tardiness and promising a good time as they insist on going out clubbing with some of their friends from high school.

You hadn’t seen the sexy arrogant promoter or his “VIP” group throughout dinner. You forget about him or at least try to, happy to finally munch away on the anticipated dinner, reminisce about your wild college days and catch up with old friends.

Friday, 11:30pm JST

A couple of hours later, inhibitions loose from the free flow of alcohol offered at the restaurant mixed in with a bottle of champagne to celebrate your reunion, the three of you egg each other on to take shots at the bar before checking out the now bustling dance floor, surrounded by the VIP booths inside. Not a minute more after walking indoors do you hear a loud energetic voice holler, “YUKIPPE?!”

“Bokuto-san!!!” Yuki excitedly calls out, dragging you and Kaori over to greet a boisterous, incredibly buff man with two toned spiky hair. Behind him sitting on the plush rounded couches is a small group of young men who are all just as attractive and well-dressed, with an orange haired male capturing most of their attention, spinning an animated tale that had the table howling in raucous laughter.

The only one whose attention was away from the tanned male you heard is called Hinata is the promoter from downstairs, looking directly at you in shock.

“Oh fuck.”

Three buttons on his shirt were now unbuttoned, giving you a more intimate view of his chest. The same, broad, muscled chest you fantasized over earlier. His gaze is unrelenting, and you realize you had also been staring back at him when Kaori waves her hands in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Giiiiiirl? Hello?”

You revert your attention back to your group, acting as if you definitely weren’t just thinking about jumping on the blonde’s lap then and there, pulling him into a kiss, grinding on him as you unbutton his shirt and pants in a desperate, heated haze and then...

Kaori interrupts your thoughts with, “This is our friend from high school, Bokuto-san! His boyfriend Akaashi-kun will be joining us later.” Bokuto is beaming down at you with a megawatt smile and pulls you in a bear hug as you move to shake his hand.

Yuki introduces you as their friend from university that just moved to help launch a Japanese edition of a niche French fashion magazine. She adds, “Bokuto is the star ace of his volleyball team, and these are some of his teammates from the MSBY Black Jackals.”

At this, Bokuto bellows a “ HEY HEY HEY!” that garners the attention of his teammates and onlookers alike.

His teammates warmly welcome you and the girls to their table, as if you’re all old friends simply catching up. Comfortable, you engage Hinata and Meian in a lively conversation about your common experiences while traveling in Brazil. From your shared love of pao de queijo, debating where the best feijoada can be found in Rio, all the way to sharing the wild scenes you’ve all seen in Ipanema's legendary posto 8, banter flowing easily.

You were having a great time, happy to make new friends.

Atsumu had been stealthily watching you throughout the introductions. You acted as if it was the first time you’ve met him, then gracefully jumped into a discussion with his captain and newest teammate as if you were all best friends, when in fact for the last two weeks since Shoyo had joined the team, he’d nervously run to the bathroom every time Meian tried to talk to him for longer than five minutes. Now here he is, laughing with you and the captain about your shared culture shock in realizing how comfortable Brazilians were with skinship.

Atsumu met you less than three hours ago, but every little detail he picks up about you fascinates him more and more. There wasn’t a single thing about you that he didn’t like so far, leaving him intrigued, pining to get to know more. Except for one little big thing.. you flat out rejected him, so now he’s actively avoiding you out of respect for the boundaries you set initially.

Still, he was riveted. He wanted to get to know you one way or another, even if it was trying to casually listen in on your conversations with his teammates.

“What a creep.” Sakusa interrupts his thoughts, rolling his eyes at Atsumu.

Bokuto leans in and attempts to whisper in a hushed tone, in an octave that was definitely too loud to be a whisper, “She’s super cute Tsumtsum! Go for it!”

“Just talk to her, you’ve been staring at her the entire time. It’s starting to get weird.” Sakusa adds.

For arguably the first time in his adult life, Atsumu is insecure.

How does he approach you for the second time? He doesn’t even know what to talk to you about. Here you were, casually conversing about your world travels when he’d never even left Japan except for international matches. You, decked out in designer items he’d gifted different ex-girlfriends as apologies or appeasements for every time he prioritized volleyball over them. You, who were already chummy with his teammates even though it took him months to warm up to them. For fuck’s sake, sometimes his jokes still fall flat, but here you are cracking jokes and making even Omi chuckle. Who the hell are you? And how can Atsumu get to know you? Does he want to be like you or be inside you? How does he even get your attention without seeming like a desperate jerk? Why the fuck does he care what some random girl thinks of him?

He never really cared about what others thought of him outside of volleyball, but when he can’t rely on his one true love to speak for him, who is he and what does he have to offer?

Having an existential crisis at an ostentatious club at midnight was definitely not something Atsumu wanted to do. Yet here he is, feeling as dejected as the day he wore the Jackasuke costume and slipped in public for the whole world to see.

Swirling the melting ball of ice on his crystal glass filled with Yamazaki 18, he didn't notice that you had moved closer to him.

“They say whiskey is a depressant. Is that why you look so sad?” You joke, then gesture to his drink with a small smile.

Atsumu lifts his head to look at you, then freezes upon realizing your close proximity. He counters, “Really? What should I have for a good time then?”

“Me.” You cheekily reply and wink at him.

He grins at you, confidence steadily regaining at realizing that he might have a chance with you after all.

Saturday, 12:00am JST

Pouring a newly opened bottle of Ace of Spades on two champagne flutes laid out on the table, you make amends.

“Sorry for being so rude earlier. I get really defensive when I’m randomly approached by men, especially because I thought you were a promoter looking to get girls to join your table… I didn’t know I had mutual friends with some hotshot athlete.” You smile awkwardly.

He laughs and jokes back, but there is definitely some weight to his sentiment.

“Ah, but since Imma hotshot athlete, s’all good now right?”

You replace the whiskey glass in his hands with a champagne flute and shoot back. “Nah, I really thought you were trying to pimp me out to your flashy friends who bought tables from you, or worse, that you were just trying to get a quick fuck.”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit at your frank reply, and you giggle before lowering your voice so only he could hear.

You counter, “For the record, I would have been down for the latter, except you didn’t even introduce yourself. You should also know that I don’t ever need your help to get places.”

You smile innocently at him as if you didn’t just confirm that you were down to fuck if only he had played his cards right. His mind fogs, instantly imagining dragging you to the nearest bathroom to fuck you silly. He thinks about what it would feel like to sloppily kiss your full lips, moving his hands from your hair down to your neck and shoulders, feeling the curves of your body graciously skimming the silk fabric of your dress, only to unwrap you like a prized gift and worship you with his tongue.

You clear your throat, well aware that Atsumu’s most likely imagining fucking you given his glazed over eyes and parted lips.

With a blush, he tries to cover his reddening cheeks and neck by downing his drink. He bounces back with a, “Well then. The name’s Atsumu, 23 years old, professional volleyball player - the best damned setter the MSBY Black Jackals and the Japanese National Team has ever seen.”

Atsumu realizes then that he never really had to introduce himself. Not seriously anyway. Most people around him already knew who he was; his teammates, coaches, players within the league, aspiring volleyball players, fans of the game, fans of his.. even people around him who didn’t have interest in volleyball just generally knew of his reputation as one of Japan’s most talented athletes and eligible bachelors.

How does he tell you about himself without pulling out his phone to show you his current stats or videos of his top sets as proof that he really is as good as he says? Without looking like an ass? Even worse, what does he tell you about himself without volleyball being the main subject?

You smile, intrigued at how he suddenly seemed so sure of himself while talking about volleyball, emitting pride and passion as he describes his profession.

So you continue to ask him about the sport. Atsumu visibly relaxes, his love for the game evident as he discusses their most recent friendly match, the reason why their Osaka based team is in the capital just before some of them start training for the Olympics. The other boys jump in and out of the conversation, with Yuki and Kaori clarifying certain terms to you when they see you furrow your brows in confusion.

As the alcohol keeps flowing and the conversation moves to the upcoming Olympics, you and Atsumu have veered off the multiple group conversations and are transfixed on each other.

He asks you what you’re doing in Tokyo and how you ended up there, so you tell him you graduated from university recently, originally intending to become a Doctor but decided to pause and move to Paris upon graduation, wherein between random side hustles you somehow landed a job in editorial fashion. Thus landing you in Tokyo on an extended work trip.

Atsumu is bewildered at how you could switch careers so easily and still succeed, that you have multiple passions and follow them according to your whims.

He couldn’t imagine living a life like yours, volleyball being the only thing he’s actively pursued since realizing he had to make a living somehow. He wonders whether he chose volleyball as a career because it was the only thing he was good at and the only thing he could think of when his high school teacher asked him about his options for the future.

Deep down he knows that he loves the sport more than anything else, the driving force and principle behind his very essence. Still he can’t help but wonder, what if he chose do something else? What if he found a different passion to pursue? Would he have made a good doctor? Lawyer? Entrepreneur and chef like Samu? He shudders, lost for answers. He settles his raging thoughts by simply asking, “How could you switch careers so easily?”

You pause to think for a while, then casually respond.

“People are multi-faceted. I think there’s different versions to us as we navigate life. We fall in and out of love with different people, hobbies, places, food, aesthetics... There are just so many variables, so many moving parts as we get older.. Who’s to decide that we have to be tied to the same job or pursue the same passion for the rest of our lives?”

This confuses him even more, and he decides that despite you having the same self-assured aura that Kita-san has, you’re the complete opposite of him, different from everyone around him actually. Him, his brother, his friends, his exes, all of whom either have a clear direction or some semblance of goals and dreams for the future.

You on the other hand, are all risk. You boldly trek into the unknown, unafraid and ready to face the variables and twist them so that they fall to your favor. Atsumu supposes that in this way, he relates to you.

He replies, “Huh. Weird but I guess I kinda get it. It’s like when I’m on court observing opponents. I have to sniff out and adapt to whatever bullshit they’re on, tweak our plays and my settin’ style to make sure we crush them. Sorta like a gamble.”

“Exactly.” You confirm.

“Eh..but nothing feels better than winnin’. How do you even know if you’re winning when you don’t have set objectives?” Atsumu counters.

You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“I do! My objectives are just adjusted to my current surroundings. I’d say pondering over the inherent philosophical value of career choices in a rooftop bar in Tokyo with a sexy volleyball setter is winning.”

“Touché.”

He grins, aiming to pour more champagne to your flutes before realizing that you two polished off the bottle of Ace on the table and that your friends were all in various states of inebriation.

Yuki dancing with her boyfriend, Kaori grinding on Adriah, Bokuto and Hinata on the dance floor twerking on the older MSBY members to Reggaeton, Sakusa and Akaashi watching all of this in amused horror.

“Wanna dance?” Atsumu asks.

After topping your glasses with overpriced bottle service liquor, you move towards the dance floor at the center of the club, joining your friends.

You’re shocked at how well Atsumu can dance, easily gripping your hips and moving with you as you gyrate against him to 90s hip hop jams. Hinata finds you both and proceeds to dance on you, laughing as you twirl him and sandwich him between you and Atsumu.

After a couple more songs, you, Bokuto, and the girls end up dancing on top of a random table screaming the lyrics to the newest Megan Thee Stallion song.

Yuki somehow proceeds to wrangle you all back to your table to take shot after shot, fueling the night to go on.

Saturday, 3:00am JST

Your group stumbles out of the rooftop bar, with the married MSBY members calling it a night. Bokuto on the other hand, is already ordering an Uber Lux to take you all from Shibuya to an even more upscale club in Minato, on the other end of Tokyo for a good nightcap.

Atsumu holds your hand as you enter the club, the most he’s gotten to touch you since dancing with you earlier.

Your group downs more bottles of champagne and vodka, all dancing on each other at your table.

Emboldened by the alcohol in your system, you pop your ass a little more against Atsumu’s crotch, swaying more seductively to a random top forty hit. Feeling him hardening against his fitted trousers, you turn to face him, skimming your fingers on his chains and chest as you continue to dance. In turn he runs his hands up and down your sides, moving more liberally to each drop of the beat, grazing up the underside of your breasts and back down to cup the curve of your ass. His hands feel warm on your body, steadily stoking a growing fire in you.

You gaze up at Atsumu, tilting your head to lightly graze your lips against his neck, trailing upwards towards his ear, effectively sending shivers down his spine. You whisper, “Would you consider this winning, hotshot?” licking the shell of his ear, resulting in Atsumu groaning lowly as you move your head to look back at him.

With hazy eyes, Atsumu looks at you, then whispers, “Winning would be when I’ve made you come with my mouth so many times you’re beggin’ me to fuck you.. but until then pretty girl, this is pretty close.”

You pussy throbs as his lips brush against your skin with every whisper, but before you can even respond, Atsumu kisses you.

His soft lips press on yours, capturing your lower lip in a soft bite that elicits pleasure that starts in your belly then moves down south. His hands continue to move up and down your sides, now more possessive in grabbing your ass to bring you closer to him.

You teasingly lick his parted lips, prompting Atsumu to dance his tongue against yours.

Lost in open mouthed kisses that have you both desperately groping each other’s clothed bodies on the dance floor, you feel Atsumu brush his knuckle over your breasts, motions languid and repeating as your nipples arouse and become visible through your silk dress.

Your entire body is overheating. You moan against his mouth.

He whispers, “Wanna take this somewhere more private?” You nod immediately, then rush to tell your friends you’d catch up with them over brunch tomorrow.

Atsumu is waiting by the exit, but as soon as he sees you, he is so turned on he can’t help but sear you into another heated kiss, leaving you both weak and wanting.

Saturday, 4:30am JST

Miraculously, the nearest Uber is 25 minutes away and the cabs are far and few. Atsumu starts to dial a private car service, but then notices you wandering down the street.

“Oi!! Where you goin’?” He calls out.

You pout. “I’m hungry.”

Atsumu offers to order you room service at his hotel but you decline, taking his calloused but surprisingly moisturized hand as you skip down a tiny alley way towards a conbini.

Inside, you fill your basket to the brim with an assortment of junk food. Chips, instant ramen, sandwiches, daifuku mochi, fried chicken poppers, and every other snack you find with cute packaging before finally leading you to the end of an aisle, choosing between which types of onigiri to purchase.

Atsumu goes along with you, advising you which brands to get, which to avoid, even putting his favorites in the basket. Although he knows his trainer will punish him with brutal training sessions if he sees the shit he’s about to put on his body, he thinks it’s all worth it. He knows he’ll feel guilty come morning, spending hours at the gym to burn it all off, but right now he couldn’t care less. Not after seeing you starry eyed at how many options of onigiri there are, and how absolutely adorable you look when asking him about which snacks he thinks could fit in your purse to save for later.

Trying to impress you, Atsumu comments. “Y’know, I make a mean tuna onigiri.”

No he doesn’t. His brother does, but you don’t know that. Not yet at least.

“Oh yeah? Want to make me some one of these days?” You respond.

Securing a date with you before the night even ends? Hell yeah.

Atsumu thanks his lucky stars, confidently confirming. “Sure, how does tomorrow evening sound?”

“Baby, our night hasn’t even ended and you’re booking me for tomorrow already. Are you trying to cuff me?”

“Yes. Then wife you.” But Atsumu holds his tongue for once.

Instead he winks at you, responding with a casual “Only if you want me to” with a wide, cheeky, canine bearing smile.

Laughing, you roll your eyes at him as he swoops in to carry your basket and insists on paying for your drunken munchies haul.

Saturday, 5:15am JST

Somehow you and Atsumu end up sitting on a park bench, sharing the food he bought from the conbini. Like two excitable school children on a field trip, you trade half bitten snacks with each other while talking about everything and nothing in between.

He tells you about his twin brother Osamu, who he insists is definitely uglier and the bummy version of him; how they did everything together up until Samu decided to open up his own restaurant and stay in their hometown of Hyogo instead of playing professional volleyball like him.

Atsumu tells you all about their childhood, from catching bugs to keep as pets and sneaking them to their room only to hear their ma screaming about it in the middle of the night, to how he always took from Samu’s secret snack stash, always denied doing so when confronted, but always paid him back with interest by secretly dropping a chunk of his monthly allowance on Samu’s piggy bank. The same one that Samu would later break open to help fund the opening of his restaurant. All the petty fights that turned into brawls, only to act like nothing happened despite being covered in scratches as soon as their tired mom walked through the door after a long day of work. He talks about his twin in such an easygoing manner, love overflowing in his voice and reminiscent of when he was speaking about volleyball, but this time there’s a twinge of wistfulness and melancholy to his tone.

“You miss him.” You softly conclude.

“That idiot? Nah.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you for blackmail.” You tease.

Atsumu concedes. “Okay maybe a little.”

Loose lipped from the alcohol still flowing in his veins, he continues.

“Samu and I have always been together. Startin’ at the womb for fuck’s sake, fightin’ each other over stupid shit, getting our asses kicked by our ma, sharin’ a room, spewing random thoughts to each other only the two of us would understand, goin’ to the same school, on the same volleyball teams, with the same friends, or rather him havin’ friends that ended up adoptin’ me to their group.”

He chuckles. “I think I took it all for granted, havin’ someone there always with me.. Even if he always got on my ass for the littlest things and it used to always piss me off. Deep down I knew he was always just lookin’ out for me, just didn’t know how ta’ show it. I mean, I didn’t either.”

He laughs because he knows he still doesn’t know how. “It’s almost been four years since I moved away from home and...”

He doesn’t finish the sentiment, but he doesn’t have to.

Atsumu is alone, and although he loves to brag to Osamu and their friends about the freedom having his own space brings, he knows he’s also so fucking lonely.

You finish his thought for him by empathizing. “I get it. I mean, kind of. I don’t have a twin so I can only imagine, but I’ve been living on my own for quite some time now, in between countries with parents who don’t support my career change and friends always in different places than where I am. It’s isolating. But hey, that’s why we put ourselves out there right? Why you acted like a sleazy promoter in front of the club and why I acted like a stone cold bitch earlier only to come at you? Our lame attempts at easing loneliness in hopes that one day, someone might finally understand... or just be there to try.”

You chuckle half-heartedly, nudging his shoulders to try and ease the somber tension.

He turns to look at you, smiling up at him, listening and just trying to understand. He can’t help himself. He pulls you into a sweet kiss that tastes of strawberry daifuku and expensive champagne.

Atsumu knows that you’ll never understand what it’s like to have a twin, to live a life away from them, to suddenly pursue a passion you thought was shared only to have to do it all on your own.. He thinks it’s amazing that you’re even listening to him rant about his nostalgia, even when he knows his thoughts seem incoherent, even when he currently doesn’t even know how to define himself.

In a dimly lit park in Azabu, you and Atsumu find solace in each other’s solitude.

He doesn’t know how he managed to basically word vomit to a stranger issues he finds too embarrassing to even mention to his brother, yet here he is. He doesn’t even know why barely two hours ago you were feeling each other up at a club, about to go back to his hotel room and drunkenly fuck, but now here you were at a park in the middle of a ritzy neighborhood in Tokyo, sharing snacks, stories and innocent kisses.

Talking to you, kissing you, hell even drunkenly shopping for food with you felt like second nature to him, as if you had been with him all along and this was just part of you two’s routine. Atsumu doesn’t know why though, since you couldn’t be more different from him.

You, who finds sparks of interest then bravely torches it aflame, letting it change your life as you go along. Then there’s him, lucky to have found his passion early on, pursuing it steadfastly since then, letting it consume and define him.

Perhaps it was the fact that you found each other incredibly attractive and you both were just looking for some sort of release, sexual or not.

Or honestly, maybe it’s the shared loneliness of being newly minted adults, trying to navigate life on your own without the familiar crutches only youth affords.

Whatever it is, Atsumu finds himself even more drawn to you.

“Being alone, if it’s together with you, isn’t so bad after all,” he thinks.

He watches you as you look up to observe the night sky rapidly fading to make room for the soft pastels of dawn, a soft smile painting your pretty lips. He doesn’t realize he mirrors your smile as soon as he sees it.

At 23, Atsumu doesn’t know the answers to a lot of things. He knows now that you don’t either, but he definitely knows then that he wants you to be there with him as you both figure it all out.

Saturday, 3:45pm JST

“I need a favor Samu. I need to make dinner to pair with onigiri. Oh wait, actually I also need to make onigiri. Tuna scallion.”

“You? Cookin? What?”

“It’s for this girl...”

“A girl agreed to let you cook for her? Is she sane? Conscious? Did you force her?”

“Fuck off!”

“Bet.”

Osamu hangs up.

Atsumu panics and calls him back immediately.

“Fuck I’m sorry!! I’m sorry! I… mighthavetoldherIcookwelltoimpressher.”

“Ah so you’re posin’ as me. I knew I was the superior twin.”

“You wish!! But please... I really like her. It’s the girl from yesterday.”

In all 23 years of being Atsumu’s brother, Osamu had never heard of Atsumu wanting to impress a girl by actually doing something for her. Buying them all the shit they could want, taking them out to eat wherever they want, sure. But actively taking time out of his day, time that could’ve been spent training, to do something for someone else, not even sure if the end result might pay off?

This was new.

Knowing Tsumu’s lack of patience and short attention span, the food will be barely edible. He knows Tsumu expects this to happen already; so he’s intrigued that his brother really insists on trying.

He’s always known Atsumu to be a gambler on court. Off court, he takes the safe routes. So for him to suddenly take a gamble like this, you must have been pretty damn special.

“Alright, scrub. I’ll send you the ingredients list. Facetime me when you’re back in the kitchen.”

- - -

Notes: The places noted in the story are based on real locations in Tokyo. See below if you’d like to imagine more vividly where you and Atsumu’s adventures took place. :)

Locations used:

1. Rooftop bar/restaurant - Ce la Vi, Shibuya

2. 3am club - 1Oak, Minato

3. Conbini - Lawson's (any one of them in Azabu)

4. Park - Mamiana Park, Azabu

#atsumu x you #atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fic #haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #atsumu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x you #haikyuu timestamps #atsumu x reader #e.writes

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tomsoffie · 5 years ago

Text

caught in the act | p.p

Pairing: Peter Parker X Avengers!Reader

Summary: staying out past curfew leads to an unexpected fuck

Warnings: SMUT!!!!, dom!peter, foreplay, clit stim, the works ;)

It was late, you weren’t sure but you knew it had easily flown past the tower curfew for young adults. Ever since the Corona Virus had broken out across the world, Tony had made it specifically crystal clear that he wanted yourself and Peter home by 8:30pm or 9:00pm at the very latest. That was your curfew. And this wasn't the first time you had broken it.

You were meant to be home by around seven, but being a teenager and all, the world likes to bring much more interesting things into the life in front of you as if to distract you from responsibilities, and in your case curfews. Now you were stumbling through the tower in the dark, only wearing a midtown hoodie that came just above your knee, no underwear, not even any shoes to accompany it.

Prayers were so clearly answered as you managed to make it through the lobby and towards the first floor of stairs without the security lights switching on, before sprinting your way to the second floor.

You were relatively new to the Avengers team, having been a part of the crew for just over a year, but only having moved in three months ago. Therefore, despite Tony’s accusations, you were staying with Peter for the time being. It worked out, you had known each other since the first year of high school and worked pretty good in the playing field, and not to mention being the same age.

You expected by now Peter would have been asleep, so you were careful to keep your motions quiet and calculated as your hand landed on the door handle to your shared room. It was then until you stopped, hearing what sounded like a pained grunt come from behind the door frame. Of course it wouldn’t have been rare for Peter to come stumbling in late hours of the night after defending the city, another reason as to why Tony had set you both a curfew, so you subsided to noise and flung open the door, ready for a shower and some sleep.

What you saw after that was completely unexpected. You were waiting to see Peter sitting on his bed, licking away at his wounds while he winced because he hated the sight of blood. But, what you got instead was the rather rare sight of Peter thrashing around trying to pull the bed sheets over his naked body. The lamp from his desk fell to the ground, knocking over what you presumed was a tub of lube in the process while the obscene sounds of the porn video you now realised he was watching echoed out through the room.

“Y/N, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Dude, ssh!” you groaned, shutting the door behind you, “you’re gonna get me caught!”

“I thought you were already asleep!” he whisper yelled, slamming his computer shut and throwing it to the end of the bed.

“Were you touching yourself?” you asked, feeling a little bad for addressing the elephant in the room, but you knew if you didn’t do it now you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

“...No.”

“You totally were though,” you scoffed, walking over to your side of the room and opening your drawer to get some clothes out.

You could feel Peter’s eyes on you from across the room as he shifted uncomfortably. In a way you felt bad, again, for barging in on him, you knew you wouldn’t exactly be happy if he had done the same to you, but it was that or getting caught by Tony.

“You’re n-not um, w-wearing anything under that, are you?...”

His voice caught you off guard a little, eyes drifting from the neat pile of clothes in your draw to his dark eyes that stared you down from across the room.

“No, actually,” you giggled, “don’t go skinny dipping with people who you know will steal your clothes I guess” you shrugged, returning your attention back to picking out an outfit for after your shower.

“I’m heading in the shower in a second so you can do your thing.” you gestured towards him with your spare hand while the other closed your drawer.

Peter was still staring at you, hadn’t even blinked since you walked in and you were beginning to wonder whether he was okay or not. You paused in your tracks, tilting your head slightly.

“You alright there, Parker?”

“Y-yeah uh... Just wasn’t expecting you to actually n-not be wearing anything” he coughed lightly, shifting uncomfortably in the sheets. You cocked your brow, a striking idea entering your head, although risky, it still seemed fun.

Dropping your clothes down on the floor, you grabbed the hem of the jumper and swiftly pulled it up and over your head, tossing it down to join the clothes on the floor.

“Y/N, whoa, what the fuck?!” Peter cursed, covering his eyes with one hand.

“Drop the act Peter we all know you wanna see what’s underneath” your tone had dropped dramatically in pace and he could feel by the way the atmosphere changed that you were standing inches away from him. He didn’t respond for a moment, so in an act of encouragement you softly placed your hand over his and helped his eyes come back into view.

Peter was already hard under the cover of the blanket, but seeing you bare chested right in front of him only made him grow to a painstaking extent. He knew you were gorgeous but seeing you like this, this was something else entirely. Your nipples were beautiful, carefully perked from the cool breeze of the open window, breasts full and round.

Peter didn’t realise he was practically drooling until your hand came up to shut his jaw, “careful, you’ll catch flies” you smirked, before turning and walking off towards the bathroom. Peter couldn’t let you go now, not with the ideas you’d put in his head.

In a flash you felt your body being jerked backwards, a firm hand on your wrist while the head of anthers skin pressed up against your back. You could feel the raging heat of his cock touching your back, sending icy shivers up your spine.

“Leaving so soon? After teasing me? I don’t think so, princess” His tone had changed dramatically, deep and rough as his hands slid to your front, dropping between your legs to feel your clit pulse under the pressure of his finger.

“Fuck, Peter,” you sighed, knees weakening under the feeling of his hands being so dirty in your honour.

“You like that?” he asked, although rhetorical, only continuing to go with his better judgement. He held you close with the hand against your heat while the other slowly guided you back towards his bed, your knees giving way as they met their end and you collapsed into his lap.

The pressure caused him to whimper involuntarily, but quickly shifted back to being completely in control as he slid a finger down between your already soaked folds to slide it right inside you, causing you to jolt in his lap.

He had you pinned down against his warm skin, pressed his nose against your ear so you could hear him crystal clear when he said, “God you’re already so wet for me, I wanna hear everything, princess, make those pretty noises for me.”

“God, fuck- Peter!” you moaned as he invited another finger inside, pumping them deliciously in and out hitting that sacred spot inside you every time.

“That good baby? Tell me how good it feels, be a good girl.”

“F-feels so good, Peter,” you compromised, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “R-right there,”

“God you’re so tight around my fingers,” he groaned, spreading his thighs a little so you could get more comfortable. His cock was pressing hard into your lower back causing some discomfort, but you weren’t sure what to do about it in your current situation.

“P-pete, please,” you gasped, hands landing on his thighs as your back arched against his chest. “want your cock.”

“You sure you can take it, baby girl?” he chuckled, almost devilishly, pulling his fingers from your heat.

“Yes, Peter, please.” You nodded frantically, partially in desperation from being ripped away from the beauty that was Peter’s fingers.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he whispered, lifting you up and placing you down on his bed, spreading your legs out wide for him so he could get a perfect view of your heat. “I might do just that.”

You whimpered softly, sending the blood right to his dick. Peter couldn’t deny he’d only ever wished and dreamed of seeing you this way, and now those fantasies were about to become a reality. Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle of lube from the floor, dousing a decent amount onto the tip of his cock. You watched, mouth agape as he spread it around, making sure it was everywhere before his eyes met yours.

“You ready for me? I don’t plan on going easy.” He cocked his brow, gripping his dick with a force and guiding it towards your entrance. You were needy, he could tell, leaning into his touch trying to gain some kind of friction.

“If you’re gonna be a slut, you’re only gonna have to wait longer,” he teased, drawing his hips away from your core.

“Promise I’ll be good for you,” you pleaded, eyes wide, hands gripping the underside of your thighs to keep them spread wide for him. He hadn’t asked much of you, and already you were at his mercy.

“Only because you promised,” he winked, before ramming his cock deep inside of you. He would have taken the time to be patient, making sure it didn’t hurt, but he was so desperate for release he could barely contain himself.

“Fuck!” you yelped, along side Peter who moaned out, right beside your ear.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you moan... It was like a fucking melody,” you gasped between breaths making Peter smile.

“Well get ready to hear a whole lot more of those melodies, baby.”

Peter was doing as he had planned, thought and dreamed and that was showing you the best time he possibly could. Peter knew how to fuck, which was something you were so unaware of. But he was sure showing you the best time in a long time. He didn’t go so hard it hurt, but the way his body reacted to your sounds was like a symphony. He was hitting all the right spots, kissing all the right places and thrusting at such a reckless pace it was almost tender.

At this point you were using each others bodies to your own personal advantage, so desperate for a release it was almost painful, but you loved it. The way his cock stretched inside of you when he almost hit his high, pressing just right against that sweet spot. He loved the way you clenched him, only edging him to that milking state even quicker. You were so ready to take his load.

Despite the motions, the sight was heavenly. His expression was so fucked out, hair falling out over his forehead, eyes clenched shut and when they were open they were so blown full of lust and desire, like an animal. At this point your thighs were shaking, muscles torn as he pressed his chest down on top of you, moaning deep into your ear.

“Fuck! Baby! Y/N, you’re so good!” he’d moan to the beating of his thrusts, earning an equally fucked out sound coming back from yourself.

“I’m almost there, Peter!”

“M-me too, baby, almost- fuck!”

“Mmm, Peter! I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me sweetness, cum all over this cock, make it yours.”

The choice of wording that spilled from his lips only spurred you on more, egging your release right until the very end until finally you felt the coil snap, your dignity pouring out all over his length. Peter didn’t fall very far behind, not long after your own high he was spurting his seed into your warmth. It was there you were left a sweaty, panting mess, having just fucked your best friend with absolutely no regrets.

“You should go skinny dipping with me some time,” Peter plucked up, dragging his weight up and off your chest with a fucked out smile on his perky lips.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

#user hayley #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tom holland fanfic #peter parker fanfic #smut #peter parker imagines #peter parker x you #marvel #mcu #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb

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charmmycolour · 5 years ago

Note

Answer questions about Dakavendish pls UwU

YES! I love any excuse to talk about my dorks!

1. Who kissed the other first?

Cavendish.

I know, I know, but hear me out! Let me put a short and a long answer because the long one is long.

Short answer: Cavendish kisses Dakota for the first time without realizing, because he’s simply too excited and not thinking properly. And we know how touchy he gets when he’s excited.

Long answer (you can skip): It’s a personal headcanon that in the future Cavendish alone will get a better job at PIG, and at Dakota insistence he will accept. There’s a ton more to that hc, but basically at some point Cav would be in danger and, in his usual fashion, Dakota would rush to save him. But because they are trying to blackmail PIG and Cav is now important, they kidnap Dakota.

Cavendish tries to convince PIG to send a team to save Dakota, but Bob is all “he’s just the janitor, we can’t waste resorces on a rescue mission for him. Don’t worry about it!” and Cav is FURIOUS, but can’t really do anything about it and he’s too scared to go on a rescue mission on his own. This is too dangerous and he’s clumsy and insecure.

So Cavendish is mopping alone, not knowing what to do. At some point, Milo, Melissa and Zack find him and unaware of the situation just ask where is Dakota. And Cav is like, I can’t tell them the true! They would want to help and get worried, and I can’t involve three innocent children on this. So he lies and tells them everything is fine and Dakota is doing his own thing somewhere else.

But since the topic is there, Milo mentions Dakota is a cool guy and the rest agree. Cavendish, still on his "everything is fine" act tries to act like usual pointing Dakota's flaws "you won't say that if you had to work with him, he's messy, irresponsible, impulsive, always hungry, has no sense of fashion..."

But then he starts to trail off "and he gets excited with the smallest of things, can you imagine? I guess that's quite admirable on it's own way, but... I mean, I don't hate him, Dakota can be pretty helpful sometimes. He knows how to act under pressure, can talk his way out of situations, made our job a lot less boring, and to be honest, he's quite funny, even with that odd sense of humor; and he's the most loyal person I have ever know, he's kind and witty and selfless and..."

He ends listing all kind of virtues and the kids look at each other and Melissa goes: "Wow, someone likes-likes Dakota, uh?". And Cavendish is just "What? No! I don't... I would never... Dakota is not..." then he suddenly is hit by the realization and just stares in the void, eyes wide. And Melissa of course would tell Zack "I told ya" and he would give her five dolars, because they absolutely have a bet going about this.

The kids will leave saying "Tell Dakota we said hi!" and after a few more moments of existential crisis, Cav would change to absolute determined and will go "I will" and decide to save Dakota on his own. And he goes and is BADASS CAVENDISH rescue mission.

And THEN, when he finally gets to Dakota, and sees him, and screams his name and hugs him, he kisses Dakota out of pure joy, and then smiles at him and says “Milo and his friends said hi”.

END OF LONG ANSWER

2. What was their first fight about?

We know it was about using the training car to get burritos hehe

3. Who sleeps in the couch more often?

Once they had a proper bed? Absolutely Dakota. Cavendish gets super huffy and Dakota would rather use the couch that listen to his complains (also Dakota probably don’t have problems sleeping everywhere, not because of the place at least.)

4. Who drinks coffee and who drinks tea?

Easy one! Cavendish drinks tea, Dakota drinks coffee.

Although I will say Cav secretly puts a lot more sugar on his tea that the average person would find acceptable, and despite his sweet tooth in other deparments, Dakota likes his coffe very bitter to keep him awake.

5. Who goes grocery shopping more often?

Dakota. Cavendish had been so sheltered all his life that he’s blissfully unaware on how much money food cost, or what is truly needed in a house. If you let him go shooping, he ends getting too much, and half of it totally unnecessary.

On the other hand, years and years of poverty had made Dakota an expert of how to buy cheap. However he also buys a lot of unhealthy food, but fortunately Cav is improving that part.

6. Who brings breakfast in bed?

Dakota does so often, the thing is that his concept of “breakfast on bed” consist mostly of a cup of tea and whatever sparse pastry was around at the moment.

Cavendish only does so on rare ocassion, but when it happens, he gets flowers, the most fancy breakfast he’s able to prepare and a a sweet note, if not some small detail. He takes the gesture very seriously.

7. Who sleeps first?

Cavendish. He enjoys routine, wakes up at 6:30am every day and it’s in bed at 9:30pm. By 10 he’s sleeping.

8. Who watches the other sleeping?

Dakota has bad sleeping habits, but it’s mostly due to night terrors and nightmares. He often watches Cavendish sleep, just happy he’s there, and he’s alive.

He also enjoys watching him mumble on his dreams, except when it’s about Hildegard or any of the other previour crushes of Cavendish, which Dakota hates. Not as much because the jealousy but at the fact Cav always gets rejected and hurt on these dreams.

9. Who met the parents in law first?

Assuming they ever get to see their families again, Dakota would be the one meeting Cavendish parents for sure. In fact, I’m not even sure Dakota wants to ever introduce Cavendish to his abusive mother and probably absent father, if father at all.

10. Who does the laundry?

Sunday is laundry day (Dakota doesn’t wear much on Sundays!), and the shorter man is the one that takes care of it. Putting clothes on a washing machine it’s easy, so he jumped at claiming the task inmediatly.

Plus he can pretend there’s no clean clothes he can wear for the day...

11. Who washes the dishes?

Cavendish, altough Dakota had to teach him because he hadn’t washed a dish before in his life prior to his job at BoTT.

12. Who clean up the house?

Cavendish. Again, he needed some help, but now he knows how to keep the space clean and tidy, he WILL keep the space clean and tidy. Dakota really don’t care much for order, but Cav can’t live without it.

13. Who washes the car?

You can bet Dakota not only washes the car, but absolutely does a lewd spectacle of it. There’s always more water and soap over him that over the vehicle.

14. Who brings take outs?

Both of them take turns, as take out is one of their favorite things. Sometimes Dakota just appear with them without warning, though.

15. Who calls the other to ask if they want something from the street?

Dakota is always too loud “Hey Cav, Cav, what do you want?? I take a large or an extra large?? What’s better? Cav, Cav, CAV!”

Cavendish often wants to sink on the ground out of embarrassment.

16. Who’s more likely to make plans?

Count on Dakota making plans on the spot and making most of the day. Cavendish has problems with changes, but still obliges because, well, it’s Dakota.

17. Who dreams about a big wedding?

Cavendish always had imagined his wedding as the most big, fancy, white party in the world.

Dakota was unexpected on that plan, of course. Wearing white around him can’t end well, Cavendish knows it. But somehow... he doesn’t care as much about the wedding anymore.

Dakota didn’t even want to get married, but now the idea looks a lot more appealing, if only to have the change to carry Cav around on his arms.

18. Who breaks the cups?

Cavendish, actually, all the time. Too clumsy for this world.

19. Who holds the umbrella?

When raining starts, Dakota usually silently puts the umbrella over Cavendish, which more often than not doesn’t even realize it’s raining and what Dakota is doing for several minutes. Dakota ends wet a lot, but he don’t care. When Cav finally realizes, though, he makes sure to put both of them under it and hold the umbrella, since he’s a lot taller. Dakota is thankful because his arm was starting to hurt.

20. Who takes the other to the dance floor?

Cavendish is a good dancer, but he absolutely never dances on his own volition. Dakota drags him to dance every time, and every time, Cavendish ends enjoying it.

21. Who does the big romantic gestures?

I think sacrificing yourself hundreds of times to save the other’s life counts as a big romantic gesture, so Dakota.

Cav tries his best, but is misfortune doesn’t help. Not that Dakota cares.

22. Who’s more likely to serenade?

Dakota. Not only has he the better singing voice, but he can make songs in the spot. Plus he likes to fluster Cavendish serenading him in public.

23. Who forgets the wet towel in bed?

You can bet Dakota does and you can bet Cavendish nags him for it.

24. Who don’t pick up things when they fell?

Dakota. What’s another thing in the floor?

25. Who keeps losing the keys?

Cavendish is CONSTANTLY missing everything. He don’t even understand why, his order is impeccable! Meanwhile Dakota, that thrives on his own messes, can locate any item in seconds.

26. Who sings the rap part?

The idea of Cavendish trying to rap anything is making me laugh too hard, so Dakota.

27. Who pretends to be sad just so the other will cheer they up?

Dakota is always cheering Cavendish up, although Cav is genuinely sad. It’s possible that he gets more pouty than necesary just to get Dakota’s attention, though.

28. Who wakes up ready for a maraton?

Cavendish does exercise every morning. Dakota hated it, until he discovered Cav wears a really ridiculous and tight 80 workout aerobic outfit for it. Since then, he wakes up early too only to watch Cavendish doing exercise in front of the TV.

29. Who buys them tickets for shows?

Cavendish. He insist they need to do more cultural things. Half of the time they end leaving at the middle and going to some childish activity instead, though.

30. Who choose the movie?

Oh, they are always bickering about who is choosing the movie and who has better taste. True is, both have terrible taste.

31. Who says ‘I love you’ more often?

After the first time (that took more than ten years!), Dakota finally feels free to say I love you, and will absolutely use it. Dakota reminds Cav he loves him several times a day for the tiniest of things.

Cavendish is more reserved, if only because he still gets flustered with the idea. He likes his words to hold a sense of uniqueness, and so he limits his love words to the most intimate or romantic moments.

32. Who keeps waving at people after they got engaged?

Half the city knows all the details about Dakota’s ring, because he can’t stop himself from bragging about Cavendish to everyone.

33. Who uses the most ridiculous nicknames for the other?

Cavendish is not a fan of pet names and only uses Dakota, and sometimes Vinnie or at most dear. Dakota don’t extend the courtesy to him.

Dakota calls Cavendish every pet name under the sun. Babe, handsome, amore, casanova, cutie, cupcake, muffin, sugar plum, sweetie, tesoro mio... even mister hot stuff or sexy pants.

Cavendish hates it.

He tried to make ridiculous names for Dakota, but Dakota loves every one of them. So now Cav calls him teddy bear.

34. Who’s responsible for date nights?

Date nights, as an event, is mostly Cav’s job. He organizes wonderful dates, but gets frustrated quickly if anything goes wrong, so Dakota spontaneous nature it’s a blessing.

35. Who wakes up one day and decides to stay in bed?

That’s Dakota 90% of mornings.

And 85% of the time, Cav doesn’t let him.

Sometimes, though... a few extra cuddles can’t hurt anyone.

#dakavendish #balthazar cavendish/vinnie dakota #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #milo murphy's law #mml dakota #mml cavendish #mml

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 5 years ago

Text

Do You Forgive Me?

Summary: Sebastian has been away filming and decided to hang out with his friends before coming home.

Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: NSFW, A Few Curse Words, Smut (m/f oral, penetration), 18+

A/N: This was request from @beingonpointe. Sooo this was hard, because I’ve learned that fluff is not my strong point, but I hope you like it anyway!

Word Count: 2,090

You put on the finishing touches of your makeup, gave yourself the once over in the mirror and blew a kiss at your reflection. You took a quick look around the room and down the hall to make sure all of the candles were lit and rose petals were in place. Sebastian had called and said the movie he was working on was wrapping earlier than expected for the first installment. That was two days ago, but that 48 hours felt longer than the entire month he’d been gone. You put your silk robe on over the red lacy lingerie you’d bought for the night and sipped on some champagne while you waited. His flight landed at 8pm and it was just after 8:30pm, so he should be walking through the door at any moment.

Any moment turned into an additional hour. You’d had half the bottle of champagne before calling to make sure he was okay. When he pick up, you could hear the music in the background.

“Sebastian, where are you? I thought you were coming home?” You asked.

“I’m here, but I ran into a few of the guys at the airport and we decided to come out for a drink.”

“When are you coming here?” You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice as best you could.

“As soon as we’re done I promise. I missed these knuckleheads,” he said. You could hear a collective we missed you too in the background.

Without saying anything else you hung up, blew out all of the candles and swept the rose petals into a pile before changing into sweatpants. He missed his friends more than he missed you? That one stung.

You slid on your shoes and headed to your car. You made a phone call to a friend and asked for a favor as you made your way back to your house for the night.

********

The next morning, you sat on your couch and flipped through the latest issue of some fashion magazine. You heard the handle jiggling on the front door.

“Y/N? Y/N, come open the door my key won’t work,” Sebastian knocked.

You sat there staring at the door and let him call your name until the knocking became loud banging. You opened the door and placed your hand on your hip. Not a single attempt to move out of the way, so he could come inside.

“Can I help you?” You asked with an attitude. How dare he blow you off to hang out with his friends after he hasn’t seen you for a month? And to make matters worse, he looks good enough to eat standing in front of you with a full beard and that perfect hair. The nerve of him to come to your house looking so good when you’re trying to be angry.

“My key won’t work,” he said confused.

“That’s because I changed the locks,” you shrugged.

“Changed the locks? When?”

“Last night,” you said dryly and turned to walk away.

He followed behind you and sighed, “You’re mad about last night. I saw the candles and rose petals. You should’ve told me you had something planned, I would’ve come right home.”

You turned to look at him and placed your hands on your hips. “Well, isn’t that something? I have to tell my boyfriend that I have something planned after he’s been away from me for four weeks, so he won’t go play with his friends as soon as he gets off of a plane.”

“No, that’s not what I meant –”

“Cut the shit, Seb.” You flopped down on the couch, “and I’m busy, so you should go,” you said before putting your ear buds in and picking the magazine back up.

He turned to leave. You did your best not to look up at him as he headed back towards the door. You were so busy trying to ignore him that you didn’t see him swipe one of the new keys from the side table by the door.

********

You’d been giving Sebastian the silent treatment for two days. It didn’t stop him from calling, sending I love you texts or having I’m sorry flowers delivered to you.

Truthfully, you missed him and was probably suffering much more than he was, so you decided it was time to stop the petty games and forgive him. You hopped in the shower and changed into more lingerie. This one was a black sheer crotchless one piece. You looked through the closet for the perfect coat to go over it.

You became distracted when you heard loud music coming from outside.

“What the hell?” You grabbed your fluffy robed and went to the window to peek out. Your jaw dropped when you saw Sebastian standing outside with the speaker raised high in the air. You opened the window. “What are you doing?” You yelled.

“I’m trying to get my girl back!” He shouted.

“By disturbing the peace?”

“If I have to,” he started to sing very loud and way off key.

People started turning on their lights and coming outside. Heads were sticking out of windows to see what was going on.

“Please stop! Just come inside,” you laughed. He turned the music off and headed towards the door. “I’m sorry!” You yelled to the neighbors.

“I’m not!” He hollered. “I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“Just don’t sing,” you heard one of the neighbors shout back.

Before your could get to the door, he was already walking in. You scrunched your face up.

“How’d you get in here?” You questioned.

“You left the keys by the door.”

“So you stole my key?” You lifted a brow. He took the key from his pocket and sat it on the table while telling you that you could have it back. “I’m not an idiot. I know you made a copy.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Where are you going?” He asked when he noticed the shoes you had on. Red high heeled sandals with straps that tied all the way up to the thigh. Shoes he’d never seen before, but they screamed fuck me.

“I was on my way to your house actually,” you replied.

“Uh huh, and what are you wearing underneath that robe?”

You undid the belt and let the material pool at your feet. He gave your entire body a once over. By the time his eyes landed back on yours the cool blue pools were black.

He walked closer to you and hooked his hands around your thighs and scooped you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and crushed your lips to his. He walked you over to the couch and sat you down, so he could hurriedly pull his shirt over his head.

“Oh no, no, no,” you pushed him away when he tried to kiss you again.

“What’s wrong?” He looked confused.

“You’re not getting off that easy. On your knees,” you said as you stood.

“What?”

“On your knees,” you said again.

He complied with your demand. You put your foot up on the table revealing your already wet pussy and buried your fingers in his hair to bring him closer.

“Eat.”

Sebastian stuck his tongue out and swirled it around your clit. You threw your head back as you moved back and forth on his tongue. This was exciting, he never let you dom and it was making your pussy even wetter. You heard the zipper on his pants go down and he pulled out his throbbing cock.

“Don’t,” you snatched his head back, “I didn’t say you could touch yourself, did I?”

He shook his head no.

You could tell he was getting pissed off, but continued to indulge in your antics. You smiled and pushed his head back in between your legs.

He sucked your clit into his mouth. The pressure from his tongue became harder as he licked you. You moved him out of the way and told him to lay back as you pushed the table back with your foot a little and placed it on top, then lifted the other foot up on the couch and lowered yourself into a full split above him.

“Fuck,” he lifted himself up on his elbows and admired your dripping slit just before putting his tongue inside of you. You braced yourself on the floor as you bounced your ass up and down over him. “This is in my way,” he said just before reaching up to rip the hole in the crotch even larger.

His dick was pointed right at you and you couldn’t resist the urge to taste him. You swirled your tongue around the leaking head lapping up all the precum he had to offer. He moaned when you took him into your mouth expertly bobbing your head up and down. He pushed his hips up trying to go deeper into your throat.

“Do that again and I’ll stop,” you pulled back.

“Fuck this,” he slid from beneath you, grabbed you and turned you towards the couch on your knees. He pushed his pants down to his ankles and pulled them off, he was back on you before you could move.

“What are you –”

“Shut up,” he pushed your face into the cushions as he roughly entered you from behind. He fucked you so hard your ass rippled with each thrust. You clutched onto the material of the sofa. He brought his hand to your throat and arched your back towards him.

“Did you really think that I was going to let you deny me of my pussy?” He said just before biting your neck and sucking the spot hard. You mewled beneath him as you felt your orgasm building. “You gonna cum for me? Hmm?” He fucked you harder.

“Yes, baby,” you nodded.

He kept going until he saw you clawing at the material even more and your pussy started to squeeze around him.

“No, baby,” he said and pulled out just as you were getting ready to pop. You screamed out of frustration. “This is my show now, baby girl.”

He sat up on the couch and motioned for you to sit on his lap. You lowered yourself down onto him until you sheathed him completely. He did his best to keep it quiet, but you felt the vibration of the groan in his chest. He held you in place, so you couldn’t move. You smiled at him. You knew he was trying not to cum.

You tightened your pussy around him earning another groan. He clamped down on your nipple with his teeth and you yelped.

“Stop it,” he commanded.

You let out a frustrated sigh, he held you there for a few more agonizing seconds until he felt like he’d regained control.

“Let’s go,” he said with a loud smack to your ass.

You happily bounced up and down on his dick. He held your ass in his hands as he licked and sucked your nipples. The sensation of his tongue teasing you through the material was driving you wild.

You felt the fire building in the pit of your stomach. Your pussy started to clench around him again. He brought one hand around to your clit and rubbed with his thumb. You grabbed the back of the couch and rode him faster.

“Yeah, that’s my girl. Cum all over me,” he whispered.

“Please, please, please,” you begged, afraid he’d pull out again. You grabbed his jaw and looked into his eyes just before kissing him. He brought his arm around you waist and fucked into you as he felt his own body on the brink of explosion.

“Fucccckkkk!” You screamed as your body finally gave in. He rubbed your clit faster as the orgasm washed over you.

Seconds later, he dug his fingers into your thigh as he filled you with his seed. You held on tight around his neck as he emptied his love into you.

You both panted out of breath as you came down from the euphoric sexual high. You could feel his dick still throbbing inside of you. You tried to move, but he tightened his hold and held you on his lap.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked into your throat as he planted soft kisses there.

“Was this your official way of apologizing?”

“Mmm hmm,” he replied.

“Well then,” you pulled back from him, “I think I want another apology.” You grinded onto him.

You felt him hardening inside of you instantly.

“I’ll apologize as many times as you want,” he flipped you onto your back.

#sebastian stan x reader #Sebastian Stan #bucky barns x reader #smut #bucky x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #Lotusss Writes

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kaitycole · 5 years ago

Text

Shoulders Heavy with Guilt

This picks up after Broken Wooden Fence Posts, basically what Drake was doing as Riley spoke to Jackson.

Summary: Drake finally calls Liam

Word Count: 2717

Pairing (for this piece): Riley x Drake

Warnings: Mentions of a hangover and premarital sex. Pretty bland this time.

Part 8 of WP. To catch up read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @bobasheebaby @bascmve01 @burnsoslow @the-everlasting-dream @ao719 @sirbeepsalot @janezillow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @choices97 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @lodberg @edgiestwinter @marshmallowsandfire

*I don’t own the characters, just borrowing them*

A/N: I do not condone the behavior of these characters. Yes, I am writing it, but that doesn’t mean I support their shitty behavior and poor choices. Just FYI.

THUMP

A slightly hungover Drake falls off the couch after rolling too far to the right. Sitting up, he rubs his forehead and blinks before fully waking up. He checks the clock: 11:30AM, before heading into the bathroom to shower.

“Riley?” He calls out when as he dries his head with one towel while another is tied around his waist, “Ri?”

Where the hell is she?

He begins to walk around the house; checking in the nursery, office and out on the back porch but he can’t find his wife. It’s not until he gets into the kitchen that he finds a note stuck to the fridge door.

Meeting with Lynn to go shopping for the baby. Might be out late. – Riley

He’s a little confused on why she didn’t just wake him up and tell him. But he puts little to no more thought on the subject. Riley was strong and independent, so he wasn’t too concerned. Plus, he couldn’t blame her if she needed space from how he’d been acting the last few weeks.

Speaking of, there was someone that he needed to call, no matter how late it was there.

Rubbing his eyes, Liam notices that it’s close to 10PM and he’s still working on this trade deal. He told himself that he would attempt not to stress himself gray until after he found a wife; didn’t look like he’d keep that promise. Just as he gets ready to turn his attention back to the paperwork, his personal cellphone begins to ring.

“Drake?” He tries to hold back a yawn, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I know it’s late, but it’s been a while.” Drake lies, he knows that he should just tell Liam, but he’s not sure what mood Liam’s in or how to approach the topic.

He looks back at the paperwork, surely it could wait another day. Drake was right, the two haven’t really spoken in a bit.

“How are things? How’s Riley?” Liam asks, he pushes himself from the desk and begins walking through the room.

“Things are well and so is Riley. However, I wish she’d pick a paint color for the nursery.”

Liam laughs, “Her indecisiveness can definitely keep you on your toes. I’ll stick to trade deals.”

“Does that mean no royal babies are in the works?”

“I’d need a wife for that and I barely leave my office as it is. So, no. You and the rest of Cordonia are just going to have to wait a while.”

Drake chuckles, “I said baby, nothing about a wife.”

“Drake!” Liam laughs again, “The court always said you were a bad influence.”

He seems to be in a good mood, maybe now is the time?

“Yeah yeah yeah, but hey,” he pauses, “I need to tell you something.”

Liam immediately notices the dramatic change in Drake’s tone. It’s rare that Drake said or sounded as serious as he did in that moment, “I’m listening.”

Drake still wasn’t sure how to tell him and he knew that he should’ve told Liam as soon as he saw Jackson. That it was Liam he should’ve called for guidance instead of Leo, but he didn’t. At first, he felt ashamed that after all these years, his dad could be alive and maybe wasn’t the hero he grew to think he was. Then it became guilt, that he enjoyed the time with Jackson and that made him feel like he was somehow betraying Liam. There wasn’t anything the two had ever kept from each other and here Drake was with the bombshell of a century.

“I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” He pauses, hoping for the universe to do something to prevent this, but nothing happens, “My dad is alive.”

It’s a few moments before Liam responds, “Forgive me, I haven’t had much sleep, it sounded like you said your father was alive.”

“That’s exactly what I said, Liam.” He takes a deep breath, “Jackson Walker, my dad, he’s alive, Liam.”

“That’s impossible. I was there when you buried him. I went to the gravesite with you.”

“I know that, but you have to believe me. He’s alive,” Drake feels a weight lift from his chest, “And it even seems that we have a younger brother.”

Liam’s world stops. Flashes of Jackson and his mother’s funerals resurface, “Who? You and Savannah?”

“And you.”

If it wasn’t for the wall he was leaning against, he would’ve fallen to the ground. There was no way. Jackson Walker wasn’t his father, how could he have another brother? He was Constantine Rys’ son whether he liked it not half the time.

Drake’s too relieved to have the guilt off his shoulders that he doesn’t hear the change in Liam’s tone. He doesn’t pick up on the fact that everything Liam’s believed in, has completely been turned upside down, “His name is Luke Rys Walker and man, Liam, he looks just like you.”

“Rys? You’ve seen my mother?” Liam can tell Drake is talking, but the sound of his heart thumping in his ears makes it hard to make anything out. His mother was dead. He buried her. He grieved her. There was no way that she was alive out there, right? She wouldn’t have left him for Jackson Walker, right?

“Not in person, but there’s pictures of her.” He leaves out the part where Jackson had told him that it’d just been him and Luke for a while. Drake never asked for more information and he didn’t want to tell Liam something he wasn’t sure of.

“I…I have to go.” Liam ends the call without letting him respond. He calls for Bastien immediately, fills him in and sends him away to gather everything he can about Eleanor Rys and Jackson Walker.

Drake looks down at his phone to see the call was ended before he heads back inside the house. He felt with all things considered, Liam took it well, but he was still going to give him time. Hell, he’d known for almost two months and he was still trying to wrap his head around everything.

He walks into the nursery and shakes his head, he wants to get started on painting and laying down the hardwood, but he refuses to paint it before he has Riley’s seal of approval. He wasn’t painting this room more than once and that’s exactly what would happen if he painted the original light gray they decided on.

Drake checks his phone and sees it’s close to 6PM and he’s yet to hear from his wife. It was rare that she’d be out this late, especially when she was adamant about dinner being at 5:30PM.

Within a few minutes, the phone is to his ear, ringing.

“Hey honey.”

“Are you okay? It’s getting late.” Drake asks, walking into the kitchen.

“Yes, I’m okay. Just got hung up with Lynn.”

Opening the fridge, he looks for something to cook, “Did you two find anything for the nursery? I was in there today, it’s a bit bare.”

“No, I didn’t find anything while shopping.”

“Oh, there’s always next time. I’m thinking of making spaghetti, when will you be here?”

“I’ll be home soon. Say thirty minutes?”

“I’ll see you then. I love—” Drake hears the beeping from the call ending before he finishes.

I wonder why she’s acting so weird today. Pregnancy, I guess.

“Drake! I’m home.” Riley says, closing the door behind here and hanging up her purse. She can smell the sauce from the doorway and realizes how hungry she is.

“Hey,” he kisses her forehead, “Did you have a good time with Lynn?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah I did.” Grabbing a glass, she fills it with water before taking a sip, “What were you up to?”

“Oh, I was going to paint the nursery,” he playfully cuts his eyes at her, “but I just called Liam instead.”

“How is he?” Riley feels like she’s about to burst. In their relationship, she’s never lied to him. A few small white lies about birthday and Christmas gifts, but never about something this big. She felt like a fraud.

“Good. No sign of our little having a cousin anytime soon though.”

“Drake Thomas, you did not ask him about that!?” She playfully hits him with the oven mitt.

“I surely did.” He stirs the hamburger into the sauce, “I don’t want our kids to be ten years apart!”

Riley rolls her eyes, “I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten at least engaged. It’s been, what, two years since the social season? Almost three?”

Drake shrugs, “He says he doesn’t leave his office enough to even look.”

“I mean, there were other women at the social season that he wouldn’t have to leave his office to meet.”

Drake raises his brow at his wife, “Such as?”

“Olivia.” She smirks.

“He,” Drake starts before Riley finishes.

“Sees her as a friend. Yeah yeah, I’ve heard that before. But something’s gonna happen where he stops seeing her that way. Bet.”

Drake shakes his head, “Come get a plate, Cupid.”

Drake flops down on the couch next to Riley after he’s finished cleaning the kitchen. She’s absentmindedly flipping through channels that he didn’t even realize they paid for.

“Earth to Ri? You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah,” She chews her lips, “Well no.”

“What’s wrong?” He springs into worry mode.

“Calm down, it’s not that serious.” She grabs his hands, “I wasn’t with Lynn today.”

“Oh? Then where were you?”

She bites her lip even harder, worried, “I went to see Jackson.”

“Jackson who?”

“Your dad.”

“How? How did you know where he lived?”

She lets go of his hands as she turns away from him. “I went through your wallet.”

“You went throu…Riley, what the fuck?” He shouts as he stands up.

“I wanted to know why you were acting so strange. You wouldn’t talk to me!”

“So, you went through my personal things? You couldn’t just ask me?”

“I tried! You just drank for days on end. When was I supposed to ask? Between Jameson and Jack Daniel?” She throws her hands up, annoyed.

He knew she was right. He could’ve handled the last few days better than he did, but it didn’t excuse her behavior in the slightest. He begins pacing the room, not sure how to continue the conversation, “You thought I was cheating, didn’t you?”

“What?” She snaps her head in his direction.

“You found an address and number in my wallet. Then you drove there, you thought I was cheating, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t until she heard him say it that she realizes she really did think he was. It had crossed her mind briefly when she initially found the paper, but didn’t dwell on it until she was actually driving towards the address.

He stood there, waiting for her to tell him he was wrong, that she knew that wasn’t even a possibility, but she didn’t. She just sat there, looking at him.

“Really, Ri? I moved across the world for you. I’d move the sun and moon for you. You’re having my baby and that’s the best you think of me?”

“No, Drake. I mean, maybe for a moment, but I didn’t know what to think. That’s why I went there.”

“But you still thought it. I’d never think that about you.” He storms into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Getting some more whiskey to deal with your problems rather than talking?”

“Sure am. It’s a new brand called H2O.” He rolls his eyes, “You tell my dad about how his son is a deadbeat that cheats on his pregnant wife?”

Riley glares at Drake, “No. I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. I thought you should do that.”

“Oh, so it’s not your place to tell him you’re pregnant, but it’s your place to go through my things and jump to conclusions?”

“Real nice, Drake.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He raises his eyebrows at her.

“What?” She spits at him.

“You went there to get answers, you find them?”

“Obviously since I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t go looking for anything in particular.”

“Then what’d you do? Seeing how you opened the door to an old man instead of some young and hot raven-haired woman.”

Riley twisted her mouth up, she knew he made that jab on purpose; reminding her of the ridiculous assumption during Liam’s social season that Drake and Kiara had a thing.

“We just talked.”

“You talked? All day?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you talk about?”

She thought back on the nature of what Jackson had told her; all of it being things that Drake should hear from Jackson, not her, “How he and your mother met.”

“You talked to my dad about a story I’ve told you several times?”

But you don’t know the real story. “Amongst other things.”

“Such as?”

“I really think that you should hear it from him. It’s not my story to tell.”

Drake lets out a deep breath. He loves her to death, but she could really piss him off. Then he realized why he was so pissed off.

“So, you’re telling me that he met you and within minutes spills his guts out, but when I, his son, confronted him about who he was, got sent away? What bullshit.” He storms out of the room, slamming the backdoor on his way out.

Riley sighs, maybe going without Drake wasn’t the best decision. However, he did make a good point, but maybe it was easier for Jackson to talk to someone who hadn’t spent their life idolizing him, someone who wasn’t related to him, someone who didn’t expect anything from him. But she could still see where her husband was coming from, everything he thought was a lie which caused her to wonder, how Liam would handle the news.

“I’m sorry.” Drake says, rolling over to face her.

After he stormed out to the back yard, Riley had taken a shower and got into bed and it wasn’t long after that Drake got in bed. However, it had been an awkward 45 minutes before either had finally spoken.

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just asked you.” She turns the lamp on her nightstand on before looking at him, “I should’ve trusted you.”

He caresses her cheek with his thumb, “I should’ve just told you, even though it felt like no one would listen to me.”

“I hate that I was one of those people.” She presses her forehead to his, “I love you.”

“I love you, Ri. So, what’d you think of Jackson?”

“I think he deserves to tell his side of the story and I know he wants to hear yours.”

“Mine?”

She turns red, she told herself that she wouldn’t go into too much detail. She really did want Drake to hear a lot of what they talked about from Jackson himself. Too late.

“Let’s just say that he didn’t know that your mom left you and Savannah in Cordonia and now he does…”

“He didn’t know?” Drake knits his brows together, “I don’t understand.”

“From what I’ve gathered he thought your mom was still in Cordonia.”

He sits up, his head in his hands, and thoughts clouded. How did he not know what happened? “I don’t understand anything, Ri. Did people really think he died? Or was that a ruse?”

She scoots closer to him, holding his head against her chest.

“Did he tell you? Please just tell me that.”

She runs her fingers through his hair, “He didn’t tell me that, sweetie. But he did want you to come and hear his story.”

He doesn’t respond. The weight of the situation is beginning to weigh on him. It was no longer whether or not this Jackson Walker was his father or not, Drake figured that out. But the heavy questions were starting to come front and center: Was his death faked? Did they know it was faked? Why was it faked if it was? He was too caught up in his hero of a dad being alive, that he didn’t think to stop and realize that maybe he wasn’t the hero he made him out to be.

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epcot-anthony · 5 years ago

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College Tips

Hey guys!! This is obviously very off brand for the blog and I don’t know if anyone actually wants this but i’m bored so i’m going to do it anyways since a lot of schools start this week! Here’s just some things that I think may be good to know. Obviously take everything pretty lightly because everything is VERY dependent on your specific school/campus and you as a person! I hope this helps a little bit though!!

1.) Pack lightly. This is one that’s super relevant right now, but that’s not fully what I mean. A lot of people are going to say don’t bring your entire wardrobe and I agree with that, but by packing lightly I mean don’t bring all the little things. Don’t bring 10 bottles of perfume or 50 pairs of earrings if you do not think you will use those all the time. Little stuff totally adds up and will create some clutter! Right now especially I think it’s important to only bring the things you will use on a daily basis.

2.) Don’t fully trust ratemyprofessor. A lot of people will look on ratemyprofessor before they choose classes and I think that’s a super good thing, but it’s super important to realize that some reviews may not mean much at all. I know a lot of people get super worried when they have to choose a professor that has terrible reviews but I wouldn’t let that worry you too much. Everyone is so different so you may love a professor that someone hated and vise versa. Also, it’s good to realize that some people who leave reviews are the people who didn’t want to give any effort at all so that’s good to keep in mind.

3.) Be safe. Parties are totally fine (not during a pandemic, but that’s up to you I guess) but it’s super important to take precautions before going out. Go out with friends!! Unrelated to parties, but if you have to walk alone at night then self defense is super important! I haven’t heard people mention this one much before, but staying safe on dating apps is super important. Sharing your location with your friends before you meet with people is a very good idea!!

4.) It’s okay not to be best friends with your roommate. It is such a common misconception that you will go into college and be best friends with the person you took with. This does happen for some people but it does not happen to a lot of people either! It can totally suck and it’s something i’m still dealing with accepting, but it’s just important to realize that you can make friends in other ways. The only thing you really need to have with your roommate is respect for one another. With that, be a good person. Clean up after yourself, don’t be obnoxious when the other persons sleeping, and overall just be respectful.

5.) It’s okay to question your major. Lol still struggling with this but apparently it’s super normal!! As long as you are not absolutely miserable, I wouldn’t be concerned with occasionally questioning your major. If it’s something you genuinely do not want to do anymore though, then talk with your advisor! Also, career quizzes are fun if you ever are panicking! Very nice because sometimes they’ll give you your future career and it’s like oh cool, maybe I don’t need to panic over this! I also recommend looking into minors if you’re worried about the options your major limits you to.

6.) Figure out what’s right for you. I’m not sure how good of advice this is, but i’ll share it anyways. You will likely get the option of choosing when your classes are and within that you get to choose the order of your classes. It’s super important to begin to figure out if you are the type of person who enjoys 3 classes in a row to get them over with or the type of person who enjoys 2 classes in a row and then a 3 hour break before the next one. Also, when making your schedule it’s probably good to make note of the times and if those are realistic or not. Like, you need to eat lunch at some point so you probably shouldn’t have classes from 8am to 2pm every single day. Figuring out what’s best for you is great!

7.) It’s okay to not meet your best friend the first week of college. There is a pretty big stereotype that you will meet all your best friends and your entire friend group the first week of school and while that may happen for some people, it’s very unrealistic for others. It’s normal to not have all these friends a few days into being on campus. You will be alright, seriously. Class friends can be super amazing and you will probably make some of those! You will find friends at your own pace and that’s okay. You may never have a full friend group and that’s okay too! Really, do what makes you happy and realize that you are not the only one going through this.

8.) Make sure you are taking the right classes for your degree. So every major is different. Some majors will allow you to have complete freedom while others will have an exact set schedule for you for your entire college career. Realizing which of these you are in is especially important for class registration time (which sucks lol) because you need to know if you are allowed to select a random elective or if that will throw off your entire track. Again, talk with your advisor! Some are wonderful and some unfortunately are not. If yours isn’t, I would just try to figure out the specific classes you need to take before you register so you aren’t wasting money or delaying graduation.

9.) Textbooks. This section has a few things so we will go vague with the title! Now I know most schools make you rent textbooks for a crazy amount which sucks, but I fortunately don’t really deal with that so I can’t give much opinion there. If you’re in that situation, I do recommend looking at all the textbook sites online (i’m sorry I don’t have names but i’m sure they’re not too hard to find!!) and trying to find cheaper versions. So many classes you will not use the book once even if it’s required. Like..you may have required readings and still not reallyyy need to use the textbook. If you have some classes that require you to buy the books, don’t get them until the class has started. Don’t pay $200 for something you may not need at all. It is good to be prepared for class, but you probably won’t be the only one who didn’t get the textbook. I’ve had situations where the rental place will say a section doesn’t need the book and they do, so i’d just wait until class for that one!

10.) Don’t believe all the college advice you see. Yeah this is super weird to put in here, but I think it’s important. There will be so many college Youtube videos and blog articles telling you how your college experience is going to go and it’s best to take that lightly. One thing that I never realized was how different all schools are. I watched Youtube videos where the girls would talk about how everyone would open their doors and just be best friends with everyone and yeah that was absolutely not the case for me. Sooo many things will be campus, personal, and even dorm based so it’s so good to take things lightly. Don’t fully trust everything you see because it may cause you to be disappointed when you realize that you’re in the exact opposite situation. Just take everything super lightly!

Bonus stuff that’s kinda simple but still important:

10/10 recommend a fridge and microwave

Try not to miss class because it becomes a bad habit and will catch up to you

Being homesick is so extremely normal. It happens to almost everyone and it sucks. It might not even hit you until your second semester and it’s super hard, but I do believe it can be hardest when you don’t have responsibilities yet. Once classes start and you have a routine things will likely start to get easier.

Planners!! Are!! Great!!! (If you’re online for the semester, 10/10 recommend fully planning what assignments and things you need to get done every single day and just crossing them off like a checklist. It gives you a little bit of a routine)

Try to do laundry at weird times. A Tuesday at 2:30pm? Sure! Doing laundry with less people is much more enjoyable than doing it on a Friday or Saturday when there is a thousand people and there is random socks everywhere.

Emailing people when you have questions is never a bad thing. Anxiety sucksss but the thing I always think of is “this is likely not the worst email this person has ever received” and it makes me feel so much better.

I apologize for how long this may be!!! Idk, these might suck but hopefully they’re kinda helpful. I know they’re mostly academic based, but that stuff is always important too! If you have any questions or need literally anything you can always message me or send me an ask!! I believe in you!!

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fxkthatdairy · 5 years ago

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The Principal's Office Part Seven~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) was the new 5th-grade history teacher at The Dolan’s Private academy in New Jersey. She moved from across the country to teach at the school. On the first day, an unexpected visitor stops by her classroom to check in on her. What happened when they fall head over heels for each other?

Warning: None

Grayson woke up around 6:30pm and stretched out. (Y/N) was still peacefully sleeping beside him. He watched as her chest slowly rose up and down with her rhythmic breathing. He could lay here forever and just watch her sleep peacefully but sadly he had to go home so that he was able to get ready for work the next morning. One day he would ask her to move in or even eventually move in with her until one day where he would build her, her dream house on a nice piece of property with tons of land. He didn’t want to leave without telling her so he gently rolled on top of her and began kissing her jawline and face softly until her beautiful eyes opened up and looked at him. She smiled at the gorgeous man that gently laid on top of her.

“Why’d you wake me up? I was having a wonderful dream.” She said with a fake pout. But on the truthful side, she actually was having a really good dream. The dream was about her future with Grayson and the four kids they had. They had three boys and one little spoiled princess and they even had pets which were two Leopard Geckos names Bonnie and Clyde and a bird named Tweety as that’s what Grayson’s princess had named it. She really wanted to stay in the dream forever but she knew it was going to have to end eventually.

“I’m sorry princess but I have to go home for the night.” He said learning to kiss her gently on the lips.

“I don’t want you to go.” She said with a pout and wrapped her arms around his neck. She truly felt way more at home with him. He was her safe haven, the place she could let herself go and know she was safe.

“I know princess but I have to but I’ll come by after work tomorrow and I’ll definitely visit you throughout the day. Let’s just say the principal wanted to see how his new teacher was doing.” He said nuzzling his head into the side of her neck. Her smell was intoxicating to him. She smelt like a flower garden in spring with hints of the fresh rainfall.

“I guess, I’m just going to miss you,” She said and unhooked her arms from his neck so that he could get up and gather his things. She watched with a pout as he put everything back in his duffle bag.

“Don’t give me that look, Princess, it breaks my heart.” He said as he bent down and kissed her pout away. She humphed at him and got up and threw her robe and house shoes on and walked with him out to his car. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. He placed his finger under her chin and made her look at him. He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Goodnight Princess, be safe and I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you more than you will ever know.” He said and got into his car but before he shut the door she said, “Goodnight, Gray, text me when you get home so that I know you made it home safely, I love you more than you’ll ever know .” She said a blew him a kiss and emphasized you’ll in her sentence. Before she knew it his baby blue Porsche no longer sat in her driveway and she was hit with a wave of sadness. She was truly whipped over Grayson Dolan. She walked back inside her house because it was extremely cold outside and she locked her door behind her. She then decided she was going to take a shower before she fell asleep so that it was easier for her in the morning to get ready because she was going to have to spend a little extra time on her makeup to cover up Grayson’s masterpiece that he left on her neck. She jumped in the hot shower letting the steam rejuvenate her body. She washed her hair and body and then got out. She blow-dried her hair and even took the time to straighten it as when she straightened it, it looked a little longer than normal and made it easier to cover the hickies on her neck. She applied lotion all over her skin before slipping into a pair of her pajamas and climbing into her bed. Grayson texted her that he made it home so she set the alarms on her phone to wake her up by 5:45 since Grayson turned them off. She grabbed the pillow that Grayson had been sleeping on and pulled it close to her chest. The pillow still had his smell etched into it and it helped her body relax enough to drift back into sleep.

When her alarm went off at 5:45 in the morning, (Y/N) rolled out of bed and walked over to her closet. She picked out an outfit that covered her neck just in case the makeup didn’t work. She walked in the bathroom and did her normal makeup routine with the extra bit of covering her hickies. She did some touch-ups on her hair before slipping into her clothes. She wore a navy blue blouse with a collar, a striped skirt, a yellow blazer, with some yellow pointed pumps. She put on minimal jewelry and a watch before grabbing her purse.

She looked at herself one more time in the mirror before leaving the house to make sure everything was okay. She got in her car with all the items that she needed and threw them on the passenger side. She drove to the school and parked in her usual spot. As always she was one of the first people to the school besides her boyfriend who was waiting by his truck for her. She got out of the car and he walked over and wrapped her in a hug, kissing her quickly on the lips.

“You look absolutely stunning today, Princess.” He said and looked her up and down. It seemed he did just fine covering his hickies with makeup. He wore his usual attire, a white button-up, gray tie, gray blazer, and dark gray trousers.

“Thank you, you look handsome as always.” She said with a smile as he grabbed her stuff for her. She grabbed her ID and scanned it so that they could get into the building. They walked to her room and he helped her get everything ready. As much as she enjoyed her day off with Grayson, she missed this place. She truly loved her job and loved teaching. Grayson pulled up a chair and sat with (Y/n) until it was almost time for the bell to ring. They made small talk as (Y/N) got the lesson plans ready for today. Grayson gave her a quick hug before heading to his office. When the bell rang she got back up and walked to the door and held it open as students began walking in. She welcomed them and some of her students even said they missed her. When the Tardy Bell rang she shut the door and walked into the class.

“Good Morning guys, I missed you all and I hoped y’all had a fantastic weekend and had a great day yesterday with the sub. Sorry, I didn’t warn y’all of a sub but I unexpectedly got sick yesterday and had to call in. I’m happy to be back so let’s get back to business. Time to take role.” She said and called out everyone on her role sheet and it seemed everyone was her so she turned it in. She then pulled up her PowerPoint on early civilization and exploration in America on the board.

“So today we are going to explore some of the earlier explorations of America and civilization. So who all in heat has heard of Christopher Columbus?” She asked and nobody raised their hands. It was typical, even the ones who actually knew were never going to raise their hands.

“Well, Christopher Columbus was an Italian explorer that under the ruling of Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand of Spain was granted three ships, the Niña, the Pinta, and Santa Maria, to go and find an easier route from Spain to India instead of traveling around Africa. Well instead of finding a route, Columbus founded several Caribbean islands around America and named those islands Hispaniola.” She spoke and showed them on the map.

“From these Islands, the Spanish Explorers, went further north entering America from Florida and from Mexico. They were surprised to find native people already living here. These groups of people were called Native Americans. There were several groups of Native American tribes including the Shoshone, Paiute, Ute, Pueblos, Sioux, Cherokee and many more. So today’s work is a worksheet with all the tribes and a place to take notes and I’m going to go through my slide show and let you guys take notes and ask me questions.” (Y/N) said and passed out the papers. She then went back to the front and went through the PowerPoint. Halfway through her presentation and her answering questions, Grayson walked in and took a seat and watched her teach class making it seem as he was taking notes.

“Good Morning Mr. Dolan, how may I help you?” (Y/N) asked making it seem as this was the first time she had seen him this morning. She also had to stop herself from calling him, Grayson.

“Good Morning Ms. (Y/L/N), I’m just watching. I wanted to see how our new teacher was doing and how the students were treating you. You are doing a fantastic job and remember if one of these rascals gives you any trouble send them to me and I’ll straighten them up.” He said as he had to resist the urge to call her his princess and make it obvious that they were dating. The classroom laughed used to their principal's tactics.

“I’ll take note of that Mr. Dolan.” She said with a smile. She then continued with her lesson until the bell rang. Grayson had left a few minutes early due to a phone call that he had received.

8 hours of teaching later and (Y/N) was done. She was packing up her stuff as she was always one of the last’s teachers to leave. She felt her phone go off in her pocket and she picked it up to see she had one new message from Gray 💛.

Princess come to my office, I want to walk out with you so that I can just follow you to your house. I brought a change of clothes but I need to finish up one little thing xo

She smiled at his message and walked down the halls with her things. The halls were completely empty and the only noise that could be heard was the clicking of her heels against the floor. She approached the front office and scanned her ID to get in. She had never been in this part of the school and it was honestly beautiful. She saw the office labeled Principal: Grayson Dolan on the outside and knocked softly and opened the door. The office was beautiful with a dark oak desk and shelves. He had his degree as well as family pictures hanging on the wall. The one of him, Ethan, and their (what she could only assume) dad, made her smile as she knew how much he truly meant to Grayson.

“I’m almost done, Princess and then we can head on to your house. Have a seat.” He said pointing to the chairs that sat in front of his desk. She placed her bags on one of the chairs and sat down in the other. She pulled her pump off of one of her feet and began massaging the cramps out of the bottom of her feet.

“You Okay there princess?” Grayson asked looking up from his computer.

“Yeah, my feet are just aching me from wearing these shoes all day.” She said as she put her shoe back on.

“I’ll give you a massage when we get back to the house, Princess, you deserve it.” He said with a smile as he finished typing the last bit of information and logged out of his computer. He grabbed her bags and her hand and they walked out of the building together. By now it was 5:30 and the sun was starting to set. Grayson walked her to her car and helped her in before placing a quick kiss on her lips and running over to his truck. They left the school and headed back to her house. She walked inside immediately taking off her shoes and going into her closet to change into a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She walked out and found Grayson who had already changed into a pair of gray sweat shorts and a black t-shirt. She walked over and wrapped her arms around Grayson’s waist and buried her face into his chest. He rubbed her back with his hands and he held her.

“How about you lay on the couch and I give you that massage while we watch whatever you want.” He said and placed a kiss on her forehead. She simply nodded and walked over and turned on the TV while Grayson went to her bathroom and came back with her stress relief lotion. She turned on the History Channel that had some documentary on JFK playing and laid down on the couch. Grayson sat down and pulled her feet into his lap and began massaging out all of her knots with the lotion. He even massaged her calves to release the stress of using them all day. His hands were honestly like Gods in her opinion. She let out a small moan as a relief as Grayson massaged her legs. She already felt 100% better just by that. When he was done, she flipped around a laid her head in his lap as he ran his fingers through her hair. While she was engrossed in the TV show, he quickly took a picture of his Princess looking relaxed and beautiful as ever. Eventually, he heard her stomach grumble and got up and searched in the fridge and found a pizza and decided to heat it up for the both of them. He put it in the oven and set a timer on it and returned back to his Princess. Jesus he couldn’t wait to move in with her or have her move in with home so that he could come home and do this every day. Even though the documentary was boring as hell to him, he was more interested in the beauty watching the documentary. When the timer went off he went and got the pizza and cut it up and brought her a plate. He loved this, taking care of his princess, he saw himself never getting bored of this even when she got fed up with him one day for doing everything he could for her he would still do it anyway.

“Thank you, Gray. Thank you for taking care of me.” She said with a smile and ate the pizza. He ate his pizza and watching his beautiful princess. God, she had him wrapped around his fingers. He’s never felt this way about any girl before and that made his special. He couldn’t wait to talk to his mom later this week about the girl of his dreams. Soon it became 8:30 at night and it was time for Grayson to go home.

“Goodnight my love, be safe on your way home and text me so I know you made it home safe. I love you.” She said and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him by the door.

“Goodnight my princess, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you more than you’ll ever know truly. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” He said and kissed her deeply one last time before leaving. She smiled as she went back to her room and did her normal bedtime routine. She couldn’t wait for the future.

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As always I hope you guys enjoy! Part eight will be out in a few days. Part Five of PANIC ROOM will be out in the next few days as well probably before part 8 of this series. As always if you have any requests, concepts, or blurbs let me know 😊💛 also let me know if you want to be on this tag list or if I forgot you. I’m sorry if I did, I get confused with everyone wanting to be on the Taglists for both this story and Panic Room 🥺

Tags: @graysavant @frickin-bats @pineappledols @sweet-dolans @parkernerd

#grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fix #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan imagines #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan #dolan twins #dolan twins au #dolan twins imagines #ethandolan #ethan dolan #ethan dolan au

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maren-as-an-adult · 4 years ago

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The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

#part 2

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hardforbenhardy · 5 years ago

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somebody to love | rogerxreader

summary: roger fucking taylor. the boy in your biology class. the boy you’ve had a crush on for years. the boy who doesn’t know you exist. has recognised your existence.

warnings: swearing, drinking, references to sex and stripping

word count: 4.0k

the first chapter of my upcoming fanfic! i’ve been working on this for a while, and it’s still not finished so i’m not sure how often i’ll update, but i’m planning on having a taglist for it so if people do like it, they can be alerted of when it comes out (if you want to be added, just pm me or send in a request!) i’m immensely proud of it and i think it’s some of my best writing - a lot of research went into it so i’m happy with the outcome so far and i hope you will be too. enjoy!! :)

There truly was no worse day than a Saturday.

I know, I know - but Saturday's are the best! There's no school, no work, you can sit around and chill all day, or go out clubbing with all your friends; maybe even pull a dude or two...

That may be the case for every single other person in the world, disincluding you. You see, your life is a little different to the usual person. Most people do spend their weekends sitting around, or going out with their friends, pulling girls and guys every night. You, on the other hand, spend it studying and working. You can safely say that taking a BSc in Biology at North East London Polytechnic was maybe the biggest mistake of your life yet. Don't get yourself wrong, you am good at it. In fact, you’re top of my class - you just struggle to balance all the studying with your job and family life.

Hence why you are sat at your dinner table, surrounded by a sea of glossy biology textbooks which contain much more information than your brain is willing to retain at this point. The words had began twisting in your eyes, no longer forming sentences but rather just squiggles on a page. Your pretty sure you have read the same page 3 times in the past hour, all information going through one ear and straight out the other. What the fuck was a bacteriophage? Or what about it being icosahedral or filamentous? And what was the difference between the lytic stage and the lysogenic stage? At this point, those weren't even words. Okay, so maybe you have been sitting here since 11 this morning, it now being 7 in the evening, but this was your standard Saturday. Having work every weekday in the evenings - 7:30pm until 3:00am - with your classes then starting as early as 9:00 on certain days, you didn't exactly have enough time to study on weekdays. Sleep was practically nonexistent for you by now, you were lucky to even get in 4 hours a night. Unfortunately for you, work also existed on Saturdays. You are probably thinking why don't you study on Sundays? Well, because Sundays were family days - you’d have to travel 3 hours to see your Ma and Pa, who would tell you how proud they were of you, doing a BSc in a subject that would get you far, and having a solid job that brought income for the whole family. Granted, they had absolutely no idea what your job actually was - and it isn't something they will ever know - but you don't really have a choice. You need to pay for your accommodation somehow, and contribute to the families bills after your father got fired from his job and went into severe debt. Therefore, it was a job you resorted to. In fact, you have work in 30 minutes, and here you are - trying to cram in a chapter's worth of course content for a test you had on Monday, surviving on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

You felt your arms begin to weaken under the weight of your head as you placed it into your palms, your eyes beginning to flutter shut as you gradually dozed off, the lack of sleep taking it's revenge. It wasn't until the loud, boisterous voice of your roommate interrupted the silence.

"Y/N, darling, have you seen my- Oh, love, what on earth is this disaster?" He cringed, sitting opposite you on the table, as you frantically sifted through the mound of worksheets for one in particular. "Look, darling, you need to sort this out. You look like you've been dragged through the bushes and back - you have work in 26 minutes and you are not even dressed!"

"Wow, thanks Freddie. Look, I don't really have a choice - if I don't have this topic nailed, I may just fail my exam, and then what? My life rides on this Fred, and I'm completely and utterly fucked if I fail." you wearily ranted, a yawn escaping your lips, which certainly didn't go unnoticed by Fred, as he placed a fresh mug of coffee in front of you - unbeknownst it was your fourth one tonight.

"Y/N, don't be so dramatic - there is only room in this flat for one hysterical queen, and I'm afraid I took that role many years ago. There is absolutely no way that you, Y/N M/N L/N, could ever fail a biology exam - you are the top of your class, and as much as you deny it, you know this content like the back of your hand. Look, I'll prove it - what is a bacteriophage, and what are the three possible shapes?"

"It's a virus which can infect and kill bacteria - the capsid of a bacteriophage can be icosahedral, filamentous, or head-tail in shape." The words simply rolled off your tongue, as you kept my focus on the textbook in front of you.

"Told you so, bet you were questioning in your head just 5 minutes ago what the fuck a bacteriophage is, and all that other shit you just said. I know you like the back of my hand, darling - you underestimate yourself far too much. Now put the fucking books away and get ready for work!" He nagged, taking a long sip of the glass of champagne he had acquired out of nowhere - typical Freddie. You didn't even respond, just simply rolled your eyes before rising to your feet to head upstairs. Freddie knew how much you hated your job, it was not exactly one praised by society. You’re what people would call an exotic dancer - or more commonly known as a stripper. It wasn't an occupation you asked for, it was rather one that was simply opened at a rather opportune moment for you. You can safely say yoinwill be taking the chance to quit as soon as you get your degree and can move on, but you’re stuck with it for the time being. You hate it on multiple levels - the feeling of having multiple older men's gaze set on your body, as if you were some kind of object, their minds wandering to all the things they could do to you if given the chance - it wasn't exactly a nice feeling. It is truly disgusting the amount of times you have been called a whore, slut, slag, floozie, tart, or prostitute - the list is ultimately endless at this point. What is even funnier is that it tends to be these same people who then turn up to your showings later on in the evening, indulging in your performance like every other male in the club. To make it worse, people often tell you you’re lucky to have guy's attention all the time - as if you should be proud of the fact that you have a body and face admirable by men. You always thought that was complete and utter bullshit - why the fuck should a guys validation make youbody and face suddenly attractive? Thankfully, most of the men who came to the club tended to be a little older than yourself - meaning there was never any guys from the university, or even better your class, who would come by. The only person who actually knows your truth is Freddie - who even though he did disapprove of it, would always try to cheer you up and make you feel more confident about it. You see, Freddie is extremely overprotective of you, he treats you like his little sister - he always wants you out of harm's way, always makes sure you were eating and getting at least 5 hours of sleep each night, always lends you money in your most desperate times of need, and opened his home to you the night you met him. It's funny actually - you remember that night so extremely vividly. He had come along to one of your performances, and ended up bumping into you backstage - you engaged in a conversation which lasted nearly the whole night, and before you knew it, it was 2am. He asked to walk you home, to which you simply had to reply with the fact you didn't have one and you were just planning on crashing on the couch in your dressing room. Of course, Freddie being Freddie invited you back to stay with him - any other person would be immediately cautious of the request, but at this point you had nothing to lose. And here you are, a month later and you were now living with him. He was basically the best roommate you could ask for.

The club is like a second home, or house - you wouldn't consider it very homely. Although the case was rare, if there was ever a point you couldn't stay at Freddie's, they allow you to sleep on the couch in the dressing room. Thankfully, your colleagues and the manager are all extremely nice people, it is more the visitors who get on your nerves and made you sick to the stomach. Basically a majority of the other girls you work with are in the same position than you; they are either college students just trying to pay off debt, or teenage mothers whose boyfriends left them after finding out they were pregnant who were trying to finance their child - everyone had their own individual story but in a way, you were all similar. Like you said, it is a second home to you, so when you stepped inside for the 6th time this week, it felt no different. The strong smell of booze and drugs no longer hit you like a brick, but rather became a second nature to your brain. The booming music, blaring at top volume from speakers which were scattered in nearly every crevice of the room, had become the norm for your eardrums - which realistically is bad for your health, but you didn’t think that's the thing that'll kill you at this point. The masses of men crowded around tables no longer made your stomach churn, now it just became the same old same old. You weren’t actually on stage until 8:00 tonight, so you don't know why they had you in half an hour early - you had already finished your makeup and got dressed. You leant against the bar, downing the first of what would be many complimentary drinks you would receive over the night - as much as you hated the job, it did have it's benefits. Free booze was probably the best thing to come out of it, when men would buy you drinks in hopes of getting you in their bed - all of them being nearly twice your age, they were never successful, but it was fun to watch 'em try. They would often strike up a conversation with you, the topic of which was always him, meaning you’d stand there responding with simple nods and the occasional burst of laughter - your mind in a completely different world of its own, usually a world of worry and anxiety of failing your exams.

"So, where is it you work? I could definitely see you working in an office or as a lawyer, I can imagine you would look very professional in a pantsuit, or even on the front cover of Vogue, you certainly have the body" The man, who had now situated himself beside you, practically purred. Was he seriously asking where you worked? What an imbecile. The whole ordeal is making you sick to your stomach, earning an eye roll in an instant - though you thought you’d play along to see where exactly he was going to go with this.

"Well, you wouldn't be interested in my life..." you laughed lightly, slowly and seductively inching closer to him. "But... I'm interested in yours. Tell me, where is it you're from, I love your accent."

"Oh, well I'm sure that isn't true, but I was actually born and bred in Italy - I moved here a few years ago, but thankfully I never lost the accent; it's a great tool for getting the girls in bed - especially the incredibly tempting ones such as yourself." He purred down your ear, you felt his breath on your neck and yourblood suddenly ran cold, as he placed his hand against the curve of your spine. Tempting?

You laughed under your breath in utter disbelief, your blood began to boil - how can someone be so small minded and narcissistic, yet spend their weeks in a strip club. "So you think I'm tempting?"

"Obviously, I mean you're super sexy and you really turn me on." He winked, and you stared at him incredulously.

"Well, you wanna know what I find incredibly tempting about you?" - he didn't speak, just simply nodded as he took a large gulp, as if he was intimidated by you. You moved closer, so that your hand was now placed against his inner thigh, and raised to your tiptoes - "There's just a deep pit burning in me, it's almost irresistible - just the thought of it is alone is so extremely enticing. I just have this immense desire to..." you whisper seductively in his ear, right as you ram your knee between his legs, making him cry out in a yell of pain and fall to his knees. " Do that." you grinned, before grasping the drink from the counter and gradually pouring it onto his head, the alcohol seeping through the thin material of his shirt, surely leaving him in a satisfying discomfort for the rest of the night, as if the hit to the balls wasn't enough. "And that"

"What the fuck? You fucking bitch!" He screamed, his voice going higher than you ever thought a man's voice could go, probably a side effect of his now undoubtedly swollen and painful misters.

You didn't respond, simply sashaying away as you raised my middle finger in his direction. You must say, after months of working in this club, you have practically become immune to the disease you like to call men. They just don't turn you on anymore. Don't get yourself wrong, not all men are like that - for example, Freddie is undoubtedly one of the sweetest human beings to walk this earth - but it seems like the men you’re surrounded by are basically parasites. Probably just a side effect of working in the hornets' nest, all kinds of trouble was stirred up in this building, it pretty much became the second (less sexual) form of entertainment for the customers. And you guess it's just your luck, because now it's your calltime. Your favourite time of the night - not. You entered the door, sighing a little. Come on, Y/N, you got this girl, just a little while longer and you can be back in the comfort of your bed. You always have to give yourself a little pep talk as you walk towards the door of what was, in a way, the gateway into Hell. That's if hell was a strip bar full of cheap and sleazy, lest we forget to mention mostly married men. All staring at you like food on a silver platter. It is quite frankly, disgusting. The walkway this week had silky, white curtains that the dancers usually appear through; as if to give the 'illusion' of us being 'angels appearing through the veil of the heavens'. You called bullshit on that one, that's also partly the reason your outfit was made up of a satin white robe, covering your lacy white lingerie. They also recently decided that the dancers should dust themselves with gold glitter before going onstage - thinking it might make you seem a little more angelic. Of course it doesn't, but you couldn’t lie - you looked incredible; the insubstantial underwear hugs your body in all the right places, yet still leaving little to the imagination; and the shimmer of gold across your chest only accentuating it more as the bright lights radiates your skin; your long locks flowing down your back, swinging with every step you took as you saunter onto the stage. Sudden cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd, the oh so familiar sound permeating the room with energy and excitement. The noise only increased as you little by little slid the satin piece down your shoulders to reveal the straps of the two-piece underneath, letting it slide down your body completely and pool around your feet on the floor. Usually, you would feel comfortable on stage, the fact you were borderlining nudity wouldn't phase youbone bit; but something felt different tonight. You have the same audience, the same form of outfit, same routine - but something feels strange, out of place, and you can't quite decipher it. You brush it off, knowing it's probably just nerves, and continue with your set - swaying around the stage, showing off your assets from every angle; and that's where you saw him.

Hidden in the corner of the room, he sat in a dimly lit spot making him barely visible thanks to the broken light which had been smashed a few days ago in a drunken bar fight. Perching forward in a lounge chair, he continually lifted the lit cigarette that was resting between his middle and index fingers towards his rosy lips, taking long drags every few seconds. As his golden, scraggly-but-still-well-groomed locks were clinging to the sides of his face, you notice his steel blue gaze dancing over your body as he scans you up and down.

Roger Fucking Taylor.

The same Roger that was in your biology class. The same Roger that was constantly trying to one up you and be the top of the class (unsuccessful in his attempts of course). The same Roger that you had had a crush on since you the course. The same Roger that didn't even know you existed. He had never been partnered with you, never spoken to you, never even looked in your direction. When you first entered the course, you had heard all about Rogers, how do I put this nicely, reputation with the ladies - making youbinstantly cringe at the utter disrespect of some of the things he had apparently done with them. But after a few weeks, you couldn't help but be drawn to him - he has an undeniable charm that he probably doesn't even know he's using half of the time, he is incredibly intelligent, and it is indisputable that he is the human form of the Greek God, Adonis, himself. You hate yourself for feeling this way, you always attempt to push it down as you know it'll do you no good in the long run. Like I said, Roger is known for his wild adventures with the women; and you weren’t one to participate in the activities of said adventures. Having a job as a stripper, people expect me to be extremely confident and out there, a lively socialite who is the life of the party, always being the centre of attention. I am, in fact, the complete opposite. When I'm not at work, I'm exceedingly reserved and introverted - I have one friend, Freddie; I only ever contribute to class when asked a question, other than that I sat at the back taking my own notes; I spend any spare time I have at home watching tv or reading a book. Therefore, I know I have a 0.00001% chance of Roger even acknowledging my existence - which I am fine with. I accepted my defeat months ago. And now, he's sat here watching me dance around, practically naked.

After finishing my set, I pace off stage- praying to Jesus that Roger didn't recognise it was me. He barely even notices me in lessons - surely he doesn't know me. What if he does though? What if he goes around school telling all his friends that I'm a fucking stripper? I'd be well and truly fucked - and not in the good way. I have never left the club faster than I did tonight, throwing on my clothes and fleeing through the backstage exit. My head is pacing, as clouds of worry and thought occupy the space - how am I ever going to face Roger again? What if he tells people? What if he is disgusted by me? I can feel my hand shaking as I try to unlock the apartment door, in which I throw open and slam behind me.

"Home so early, darling?" I could hear Freddie's voice from the living room shouting through, before the loud pop of the champagne bottle in his hand - presumably his second tonight. I threw my bag to the side before storming into the room and slumping down next to Freddie on the couch, releasing a large sigh.

"Yeah, work wasn't great" I groaned, noticing Freddie gesturing for me to take the bottle in his hand, to which I took a big swig in response; making Freddie chuckle.

"When is your work ever great? What's wrong, love?" He raised from the couch to grab himself a glass, knowing I'm not giving up this wine bottle as easily as he hoped.

"As you know, a majority of the men we get at the club are at least twice my age. Well, you remember Roger Taylor right?" I mumbled, focusing my attention to Freddie's glass which he held out in front of me, pouring the liquid in slowly as to not spill it all over the both of us.

"From your class? The one you have an undeniable love for? Yeah, I know him. What did he do?"

"Well, he turned up. He was sat in the back of the room. What am I to do Fred? What if he tells people that my job is basically prostitution? My life will be ruined. Not only that, but now my crush has seen me borderline naked, and prancing around the stage like some kind of... well, stripper" I cringed at the thought, it sounded a little stupid. Surely, I'd want my crush to see how good looking I can be? Not one bit.

"Oh god, what on earth was he doing there? Sounds like you have a bit of blackmailing yourself - Roger Taylor in a strip club-"

"Is exactly where I'd expect to find him if I'm being honest Fred - you know what he's like. I'd be surprised if it wasn't a place he visited everyday" I chimed in, I'm not lying. He is exactly the type of cocky, arrogant little shit who would find bliss in a strip club.

"Look, everything will be fine - you have two options, darling. You can either avoid him for the rest of your life, hoping he doesn't share the secret and ultimately ruin your life forever. Or you can fucking own it, and strut into school tomorrow like you are the shit and give Roger a piece of your mind - it's up to you, but I'm rooting for the second" Fred explained, trying reason with the one person he would never be able to reason with. I am quite stubborn when I want to be, and now is one of those occasions. "Now get to sleep, if you are home this early you should take advantage of it. Oh, do you have the money for rent?"

"Shit. Fuck. Fred I'm so sorry - I left in such a rush that I forgot to pick it up. I'll pay you Monday? I'm so sorry" I frettered, eyes widening at the realisation I not only couldn't pay Freddie, but I also can't pay my parents when I go down tomorrow.

"Darling, it's fine - I'll give you this week free of charge. You deserve it with all your hard work!"

Mouthing a small 'thank you', I smiled and nodded before slumping upstairs to my bedroom. As I reached my bed, I noticed all my biology books, which were previously scattered across the living room table, all stacked in the order of importance for the exam on Monday. I grinned to myself at Freddie's attempt of helping me study, although I know he only did it because he hates when I leave my books around the apartment. I can barely sleep, my eyes are refusing to close and my mind wanders back to Roger with every attempt of rest. I can't help but agonise over the situation; knowing something was going to go wrong and my life was going to be ruined.

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etraytin · 5 years ago

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Quarantine, Day 103

June 22

Tonight's journal is coming to you from my balcony, where it is dark at nearly ten pm and very humid, but still pleasant with all my plants growing and the hum of air conditioners all around me.

And fucking yikes, those are some large bugs. The inside is also very appealing at this hour. I think I will write from my armchair this evening.

Anyway, I need to go to bed earlier than usual tonight because I have a very early morning tomorrow. Poll workers need to report to the precinct by 5am, and although I'm lucky to live nearly on top of our polling place, I still need to shower and dress and pack my breakfast, lunch and dinner before I go. We typically don't finish till 8:30pm, sometimes later, so it's a damn long day when you're not allowed to leave the precinct for any reason. Typically we make it nicer by throwing a big potluck of foods people can eat on all day long, but COVID ruins everything once again. At least there's a fridge and a microwave so I won't be stuck with PBJs and tepid water bottles.

The procedure is going to be different this time, too. I work pollbook most of the time at our precinct, which is the computer we use to check people in. It's not difficult work, but it is exacting, and it must be done right every time. Almost every counting discrepancy in a precinct starts at the pollbook, with somebody who didn't get entered properly for one reason or another. I have not made any major mistakes yet, knock on wood! There is a special precinct captain just for the pollbook, who does not work the pollbook but watches us working the pollbook to make sure we do it right. She's very demanding, for obvious reasons, and insists that we follow a particular procedure that is the same every time, so no steps ever get missed. This time we can't touch anybody's ID, which is going to make things different since we usually hold the ID till we've pushed the key to enter the voter, and we have to hand out the ballot ourselves instead of sending them to a ballot table. I'm hoping we get off to kind of a slow start so we can get the hang of things. I really, really do not want to be the person who causes a counting discrepancy. The biggest thing we've got going in our favor is that it's a simple Republican primary, so only one ballot type to hand out, and attendance is likely to be fairly light.

Going to bed early will be easy, at least, because the new mattress topper is here! Yay! It's very soft and cushy and I love it deeply already. I've only laid on it a little because it needs to recover from being vacuum sealed, but I can tell we're going to be the very best of friends.Our super-old mattress for the past two nights has made my back and neck very sad. We can't afford a new mattress, but this is like a new mattress, or close enough for now. I'm finally looking forward to going to bed!

Today was grocery pickup day, so we finally have milk and eggs and yogurt and such. The morning routine was disrupted when we realized that the truck's battery was flat after sitting for so many weeks, but I was able to take the battery pack we got for Christmas from my folks and use it to jump the battery, with some Facetime assistance from my dad. I know the principles of jumping a battery, but never had to do it on my own before. It's not too hard. I then had to go over to the post office, a chore that always ruins my day a little.

I don't understand what is wrong with my post office because I have dealt with many many post offices in all the places I've lived and none of them have been terrible like this one! I went in and told them that I wasn't getting my mail and asked if they might be holding it. Officious Asshole Guy, as he shall henceforth be known, assured me that they did not hold any mail without an order to hold it. I told him that I had a hold mail for the first two weeks of May, but that my mailbox was bursting when I got home May 16, so I assumed that, per usual, the mail carrier ignored my hold. I asked if he could go check, and he did, and came back with a big bundle of mail. He informed me that it was my fault that I wasn't getting my mail because I'd said I'd pick up my mail on May 16 but I hadn't done so. I reiterated that I'd gotten all my mail up until May 16, and that this must be mail from later, after the hold mail expired. He insisted that was not the case, that they never held mail without a hold mail order and never did not hold mail that had been ordered held, and that if I hadn't gotten any mail in a month, it was because people weren't sending me anything. It was useless to argue with him, so I took my mail and left. Everything in the pile was, of course, from after May 16. I went home and reminded all my family and friends on Facebook to please not send us anything via postal mail because the probability of it not reaching us is fairly high. I am sticking with my resolution to not leave any negative comments or complaints for anybody who has to work during the pandemic, no matter how terrible they are, but this guy really, really tempted me.

Just typing all that out has angried up my blood again, so I'll finish out with nicer stuff. The kiddo is back to using the knitting loom, which is a nice hobby and something good to do while listening to podcasts. He's been a little high strung since we got home, settling back into the routine, but it's getting gradually better. I wish it weren't so hot, so the kids could go out and play distantly with each other. Virginia is on a downswing right now, so it's not too unsafe except for the heat exhaustion part. My husband's summer class didn't make, not enough students signed up, so while that's a little less money for us this summer, it also means more time for him to work on his book.

And my mail today included two interesting COVID artifacts I will probably save: my son's report card with all V's (not evaluated) for his fourth quarter grades and merely a notation at the bottom that he is being promoted to fifth grade, and my sister's wedding invitation with an "everything could change at any time" caveat right under the RSVP instructions. These are strange days we are living in, but the weirdest thing I saw today was a Crayola Maskpack commercial that looked exactly like a commercial for any other Crayola school products, kids running, jumping, coloring in the classroom, interacting with their teachers, except every single person except one mom at home was wearing a bright colorful facemask. It looked so bizarre I watched it through twice, couldn't look away. It really is a new world.

#quarantine #crayola #election 2020

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lockdownuk · 4 years ago

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Lockdown Diary Part 8

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 211: I stayed up till 5am last night. The last thing I watched was Ronny Chieng, a Malaysian comic in the states. It was a Netflix comedy special and bloody funny. Other than that, a quiet night, nowhere near as fucked as Friday night. As I type, I am about to finish off spicy af sausage cassserole for tea and watch a film - all quite sedate. I’ve work tomorrow, after all!

Day 212: Every time I try and watch something on Amazon Prime, it errors or doesn’t load so I have to uninstall and reinstall, which is a pain the fucking arse. Glad I don’t pay for it. I watched half of the Tom Hanks film last night, A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood, based on a real life children’s TV actor. It’s good but weird. I’ll finish it tonight. Jo Broom called and told me (well, reminded me of, actually) some good info, especially about insulin lasting 4 hours and the liver producing sugar for when you wake up). Day 213: I didn’t watch the rest of that Tom Hanks film last night, doing so right now. I got a call @5.30pm from Tall Tom asking to pop round which he did (social-distancing at the front door). He dropped of a canvas print he’d ordered of on eof my pictures from FB. Fucking gobsmacked! That’s how much he likes them. I am still in shock. What a brilliant thing to do! Day 214: Finished A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood last night, I enjoyed it. Today has been standard. Half way through the third week back from furlough and, while I am still very glad to be working, I now also relish pasrt of being paid 80% for fuck all! My walks have been tentative today, I have done something to my right ankle, it feels sore but OK when walking at pace. My phone and Google Fit are playing up - I am suddenly walking 8km/h! Day 215: Phoned Dad - Rita sent an email a couple of days ago telling of a lump in his ear which he had removed and they are going to check for cancer. When I spoke with him it was usual dad - nothing to worry about. He spoke very highly of the staff at Stamford Hospital where he had it done. They took skin from his nesxk to put on his ear lobe where they performed the op. I had pie and veg tonight. It’s a real change and I am stuffed as I type this. SB pee-ed me off at work big time late this afternoon. Diary updated! Day 216: Dan’s in court today for his drink driving escapade. I think he’s pleading not guilty - I’m not sure, neither has he been each time I have talked to him about it. It was scheduled at 4pm and he’s meant to let me know how it went. As I type, it’s just gone 9pm. Fuck knows what’s happening. I guess he’ll let me know in his own time. Meanwhile, work was OK, nothing hectic, I am on my first Friday beer, just about to eat meatballs and pasta and watch Taxi, a film written by Luc Besson. End of my 3rd week back and it’s a bit like I wasn’t furloughed for 6 months!

Day 217: I switched off that Taxi film after 30 minutes. It was bollocks. Dan got a 20 month ban (reduced to 15, if he does a course, which he says he will) and £1100 fine. At least it’s over and done with now. I got up at gone 2pm today. I have to cut this late sleeping habit out at the weekends. That being said, it’s 8.40pm, just about to dive in the shower, eat and then get on it. Clocks go back later so I’ve an extra hour to play with!

Day 218: Still managed to stay up stupidly late last night, up at before 1pm (but in real terms, that’s just before 2pm!) Had a video chat with Fog - I was meant to go up to his yesterday to listen to the footy but, ‘cos I was up so late, I didn’t. Anyway, during our chat, we’ve decidied to go to Honolulu when it’s safe, specifically to go to McDs. It was a bizarre conversation - I can’t actually remember the details!

Day 219: The lady (I think it’s a lady) from the Oundle Chronicle emailed to say she didn’t think William (the student) has contacted me (he has but is fucking useless), so she’s found some questions for me to answer and wants me to pick my favourite 4 (hi-res) photos. I’ve written a couple of paragraphs that answer her questions and I was to pick photos that have had the most likes on FB - finding that info out, without trawling back over my posts, is easier said than done! Got the car tyres sorted today - an advisory from the MOT that Julian did last week.. I do like Oundle Tyre and Exhaust centre. Work was fine. Marke had to deal with Eileen Baxter and chatted to me about it. I had it all the week before last. She’s delightful but the least IT savvy person I have ever known in a workplace whereby a computer is integral to the role!

Day 220: I’ve been doing press-ups and toe tocuhes after each exercise for a little while now. 7 press-ups, doesn’t sound much but when I did it before and rapidly increased the numbers (up to 22), it played havoc with my shoulder which I thought was becoming frozen. So, I will icrease the amount slowly. I can just about touch my toes now. When I started, I barely got past my fucking knees! Work was standard today and I had an interesting chat with a recruiter about a job at Jagex, a computer game firm responsible for Runescape which is, apparently, a big deal. Posh playing tonight. At one point, when leading at home to Burton we were top. Now it’s 2-2 with minutes to go and we’re third with fucking Lincoln top. Day 221: I sent an email to Shirley from HR (re) asking about the salary discrepancy between mine and Mark’s. She’s going to talk to me tomorrow about it. I had a lomng chat with Barrzy tonight, always good to catch up and reminisce. I’ve just had two sausage rolls (on the cheap shelf from Co-Op, Dauphinoise dotatoes (ditto), mixed green veg and onion gravy for tea and I am fucking stuffed.

Day 222: Typing at gone 4pm on day 223! Had a meet with Shirley. No dice on the pay until it can be reviewed next year. All pay reviews are on hold. She explained that the salary offer was based on available budget rather than a pay grade or bench mark. Day 223: Typing this very late on day 224. Usual Friday. Work, beers, bed at 5am. went up Fog’s for a couple and watched Train to Busan. Day 224: I swore blind, when I woke and got up (2.24pm) I would have a day off from exercise. Stair climb and 10km walk done! Leigh from Oundle Chronicle messaged chasing my answers for the article. Last night, someone posted such great pics on the Oundle Chatter group that it makes me think twice about posting my photos. I tell everyone I just point and snap with my phone camera and, while it is the phone camera, I do so much pissing about with Google photos I feel like a con, it doesn’t sit well with me. Made lasagne for tea. Fucking lush - lardons, scothc bonnet and an Oxo cube really helped, I think. It’s 11:44pm as I type, 15 mins and I’ll deliver K’s birthday card. Not sure what I am hoping to come out of that, really. Just can’t let go! Day 225: Stupidly late one again last night. Up at 2pm. I’ve responded to Leigh at the Oundle Chronicle - why I make it so hard, I do not know, I really overthink some things. Eye appointment tomorrow, 9.50am, which Sam, Mr. Minos’s secretary offered me when she called on friday. Sueanne was very cool about it when I checked it was OK. So, now I am fretful of what will happen! More lasering, I reckon.

Day 226: Eye clinic was not great. I need lasering in my right eye, so that will be both eyes. Mr. Hussain, the consultant that ive seen loads including today, explained that the field of vision is affected that it can mean I am not allowed to drive. In one eye it doesn’t matter, in both the DVLA will order a test and, if the field isn’t wide enough, means I won’t get a license to drive. Shit! K WhatsApp to thank me for the card plus some ‘chat’ which ended uninvitingly (i.e., end of conversation!). I just replied that I was glad she liked it (the card),

Something is up with my left thumb, it’s sore by the nail, as if it’s ingrowing, but it isn’t. Fuck knows what it is and it’s really bothering me, very painful. Pretty shit day, all in all. Day 227: Called the surgery about my thumb and Dr. leijsen called me back, asked some questions about the photo (I had to take a pic and send it in), including whether there’s any pus, and then said she’ll prescribed anti-biotics. Later today, it started to leak pus, and feel better! But, it’s still not right so I’‘l take the course. Looks like I have got an interview for the IT support job at Jagex, got a call from the recruiter today, just need confirmation. Spoke with Shirley from HR about the fact I might not be able to drive in the future. She was pretty cool about it in a kind of cross-that-bridge way and suggested I run it past Sueanne.

Day 228: Spoke with Sueanne about my impending eye lasering which is on Friday ay 3.30pm, the hospital called to let me know, she was very cool about it and even suggested I take Monday off! More importantly, she spoke of the non-driving as no factor to worry about job wise, especially as we are all WfH nowadays. I have an interview at Jagex, well, Zoom, but it is on Friday, 1pm.

Day 229: Told Mark at work about the lasering adn potential non-driving. I think it shocked him a little. I am worried about tomorrow, big time, although it’s just lasering - I’ve had it done before. I cannot wait for this time tomorrow (9.40pm). I have been trying to concentrate on preparing for the interview but it’s all too easy to get distracted. Day 230: Interview went OK. Eye appointment was horrible but bearable. The doc wants me to book in for more laser but, only so it can be reviewed and ‘topped up’ if need be. Better than a going for a check up and having to book another laser appointment thereafter. It’s near enough 9.00pm and I am going to enjoy a bear or two.

Day 231: No after affects to speak of from the eye appointment but I know lasering has occurred. It’s like I haven’t got the full set of cells recieve information from yje pupil. It’s intangible but still perceptible. Great walk today, took some cracking photos - very pleasing. More booze and draw tonight and, hopefully, up tomorrow before the 2.20pm wake up time of today. Posh beat Oxford away (1-2) in the FA Cup 1st round.

Day 232: 2pm by the time I got out of bed. I’ve got to curb this habit. Missed calls from Dad but answered one from Rita just before going for a walk when I promised to phone tomorrow. Day 233: I think SB wa surprised was at work today. I ordered two rugs (from irugs.co.uk). They are 8x5″ and were 75% off, £58 ea. One for under the table (desk) and I put one in the spare room. Hopefully keep the house a tad warmer. Getting into Barry on Sky Comedy. Barry’s a hit man. It’s darkly intriguing. I took a couple of pics of a solitary poppy today, icuding a couple of macros. They turned out OK so will post one on Wednesday (11/11). Talking of photos, two people (one is Alison Brighty) asked for a jpeg of one of the photos I posted on Saturday so they can get it printed.

Day 234: Spoke with dad today, let him know the situation with my eyes which, I think worries him, so I hate to do it but, also, he needs to know, just in case.

Day 235: The poppy pic I posted was very well received, over 160 likes on the Oundle chatter page and Jo Langford wants the original (why she can’t take it of FB?) to print off, which is nice. I am working on Saturday - gotta attend a meeting at 8am. FFS! SB also agreed for me to back on call, cool!

Day 236: Average sort of day. I really wish I wasn’t working on Saturday! OH, Dan messaged...first I’ve heard from him for over two weeks...he’s got two days of so he can watch all the US Masters which started today, and was good watching. So, not that average a day afterall, now that I think back on it. Day 237: Woke up at 9.14am today, yikes! Messaged with Dan a lot as he is home watching the US Masters...told him abbout my eye issues and the fact there’s a chance of losing my driving license. Also, in a silly facebook post and comments, about me not being able to drink tonight ‘cos of work tomorrow, Scottish Ricky asked if I was OK. I replied, not really, meaning that I’m pissed off I can’t get pissed. He messaged to say if I ever need to chat. Fucking great bloke. I rang him to let him know I was not being serious on FB and we chatted for 30 mins or so. Top man. still, it does remian that I am missing a beer this Friday - roll on tomorrow night!

Day 238: Work thsi morning was OK, finished at midday. Watchung golf, having abeer or two right now (just gone 8pm). Posh lost away to Crewe 0-2. Day 239: Up at 2pm after a good few drinks last night (and some silly video posting on FB of me trying shit lager - Corrs Light - with hot sauce). Just settling down to watch Dustin Johnson win the Masters - he’s -20 with 2 to play, no one near him.

Day 240: I ordered some slippers from Amazon that arrived today. They were also returned today. I’m destined to never find a decent, non-expensive pair.

DJ did win the golf.

I watched Jojo Rabbit this evening. A first class film.

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #COVID19 #lockdownuk

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loveisbraveandwild · 5 years ago

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hi so i’ve gotten a lot of messages and asks/anons about attending the city of lover concert and i just want to tell my experience and explain how it happened, as well as address some things like my “views” on international fans and class. a lot of people are excited for me but i also came back tot some really really really hateful anons so i just wanted to clear everything up. the post is very long but it basically talks about being abroad, going to sessions, and then this weekend in paris.

as you may or may not know i’m currently doing a semester abroad in germany. i’m really fortunate to go to a university in the states that has a strong study abroad program allowing me to study in germany without paying an additional cost from what i already pay my uni. knowing i was going abroad, i saved as much money as possible because i knew i wanted to travel. because of my visa, i am not allowed to work in germany. i haven’t not had a job since middle school. as a full time student in the states i also work three jobs. during the summer i was working around 50-70 hours a week. i’m privileged and fortunate enough to be able to take out a lot of student loans and what i can’t take out, my parents pay. aside from my education, i fully pay for everything. traveling while abroad was a priority for me so i was able to save a good bit a money.

in addition to saving for abroad i was pocketing about $10/week for what at the time i knew to be the ts7 tour. when i got my call to go to rhode island and then nashville i spent every dollar i had for tour on a plane and airbnb in nashville. other people stayed in hotels, i stayed in a $34/night airbnb and while i always imagined my dad would be there when i met taylor, he couldn’t come. i was lucky that many of my friends who i met up with in nashville had parents generous enough to pay for multiple meals of mine. despite all of this, i recognize my privilege of being able to go to sessions. i was saving for things that definitely aren’t necessities because i have the means to between my babysitting, sales associate, and paid internship jobs. while i havent spoken about it much because i honestly don’t know how to talk about it without getting backlash, i want to make it very clear that i do not for a second take for granted the fact that i was able to fly to nashville with 8 days notice as a result of the class and financial situation i am currently in.

going back to abroad, i knew i was going to paris. i didn’t know when but its been a dream of mine since i started learning french at age 11. i imagined a short weekend with a few abroad friends to site see. when taylor announced the city of lover concert, i reached out to a couple of my international fan mutuals with the hopes of being able to meet up with them. i knew this concert was for international fans and i never for one second considered taking an opportunity away from an international fan. when yas and i discussed going to paris together it was clear that had she won tickets, she was going to go with someone else despite us staying together because we know there are people who have never seen taylor because of where they live. my plan was to go to the venue and meet up with friends and maybe catch a glimpse of scott or tree if we were lucky. i got a round trip flight for 97 euros and stayed in a hostel and explored paris alone for a few days until yas came to paris. my program doesn’t allow friday classes so i left thursday evening and then flew back to germany at 4am this morning because i had class at 9am. i did skip class on monday though, something i am eternally grateful for being able to do.

the day of the concert we arrived around 3 and met up with the handful of people we knew were going. the day of the concert i learned that doors opened at 6:00pm and the concert started at 8:30pm. i didn’t know this until i was in paris. i also got pickpocketed the day before the concert so wasn’t able to access social media with the exception of a few times because of yas’s generosity and willingness to let me use her phone. had i had full access to my phone, i would have posted when and where the concert was.

when we arrived there was a barricade section of people without tickets but with the hopes of going in. there were about two dozen of them and almost all, if not all of them were european swifties. we found it odd that they were holding these people considering staff said multiple times that there were no more tickets. however, yas and i were still planning to leave at around 6:15/6:30 after everyone was let into the concert. at around 5:45 we were still there, people were getting excited, and i said to yas “i want to get into the barricade. what’s the worst that can happen.” after they let the first group of people into the concert venue they opened the barricade and gave us all bracelets. i was about fifth from last to get my bracelet and they still had what looked to be 20 or so more bracelets to give out. i was shocked. i was crying, shaking, smiling, all the good things. i could not believe what was happened. i never went to the venue with the intentions of getting in even for a second but i knew that if i got into the barricade with literally fifteen minutes until the doors opened i wouldn’t be taking a spot from anyone if they did distribute tickets. there’s no way anyone could have predicted they would let us in because staff made if very clear both day of and days leading up to the event that all the tickets were won or bought. me being there did not take a spot away from anyone. if i hadn’t gone in that would have been one less person at the concert, not one more spot for an international fan. i recognize my privilege of being able to go to paris at all, let alone with someone i had never met before for an event i wasnt even going to.

i spoke a lot about the concert leading up to it, in addition to the experiences i’ve had since being abroad the last few weeks. i had no idea what its like to be an international fan and im frustrated that it took me walking a mile in international fans shoes to actually speak about it. i should have said something sooner, and i know that. i still stand by every single thing i said or reblogged about the injustices of being an international fan. again, my experience at the concert was not in spite of international fans. i want to continue to be an ally for international fans if welcomed to, but many of the anons i got suggested i should never talk about it again. additionally, i got a lot of asks about my privilege. this is something i know i need to address more directly and its honestly one of the hardest issues for me to talk about. the school i go to and the people i am surrounded by often puts me on the lower class side but in the real world and in this fandom i know i am extremely privileged. im not well educated on how to talk about my class privilege but its something i very much want to learn and so i am actively trying. this fandom has already taught me so much.

i’m sorry this is so long but i needed to get my story out because i’m still very distraught by the dozens of hateful asks i got about the concert. this was easily the second best weekend of my life and i boarded my plane back to germany shaking over the anons i knew i would come back to. i understand all the anger and frustration because i know there are people who have been here for years without even a notice let alone the opportunities i’ve gotten over the past month and a half. i want to talk about it but only in a constructive manner. i still dont have my phone to replies will be delayed but please feel free to comment, send me asks/anons, or messages if you took the time to read this post.

#long post

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