#love is stored in the sassy but love filled banter

[sulemio-week-official]

Suletta: I'm crying. You made me cry!

Miorine: Baby.

Suletta: No, now is not the time for pet names.

Miorine: I'm calling you a baby. I'm insulting you.

[uschibu]

Task Force 141 Cashier AU Headcanons

Soap and Gaz are like the sunshines of the entire store. When those two first joined, everyone was surprised by how much better the atmosphere became. Everyone’s mood lifts by about 80% when those two are on shift together. Everyone warmed up to them immediately, and Ghost gets along with Soap the best. You can just take their interactions from the game and plant them into this AU: all the banter, jokes, and light flirting. Ghost isn't as closed off as he was before, and Price and Laswell are in the back patting themselves on the shoulders for a job well done recruiting these two.

Soap's all chatty, smiling at the customers, greeting everyone with a big smile, and joking around with them. The customers love him the most, and he probably has like four reviews praising him highly on Yelp or some shit like that. The newbies love him too.

Gaz isn't as energetic as Soap, but he’s also friendly and always ready to help. Both he and Soap make the best work buddies, and Gaz is secretly Price's favorite.

I imagine Soap and Gaz are always competing against each other for fun: who cleans the store the fastest, who scans items faster, who makes more money by the end of the shift, who restocks the shelves the quickest. There's a clipboard in the break room where the rookies keep a list of their ongoing competition.

Their charisma and good mood is also one of the main reasons why they mainly work at the registers and not in the back. That's where Ghost works most of the time, always filling up shelves or planning the next day ahead with Price in the office. It’s just better for everyone that way.

Ghost probably has a resting bitch face and looks annoyed and ready to run someone over with the pallet truck 24/7, but he’s actually really helpful if you ask him something. He’s the type to walk customers to the items instead of just pointing in the general direction. Nice elderly people love him, and kids and young adults immediately jump onto the shelves to make room for him when he needs to get by. Ghost is probably that silent coworker you’re never sure if he hates you or tolerates you, but I’m sure he gives the best advice to the rookies next to Price.

When dealing with difficult customers, Price is the best at handling them—always level-headed and cool, never losing his composure. Not even Laswell is this patient, and the woman has probably been in the industry the longest.

Now, Soap and Gaz? They don't take disrespect. They try their best to stay friendly, but they know "The customer is always right" is not the full quote, and they make sure the assholes know it too if they go too far. Price has to intervene every single time before shit really hits the fan. I haven't seen much of Gaz, but based on the bit of gameplay I saw, Soap is probably the worse of the two. Gaz would probably get all sassy and sarcastic, and Soap would just speak his mind, damn the consequences.

Ghost, on the other hand, never lashes out at anyone. It doesn't matter how difficult they are—he’s the type to just stare them down quietly and wait for backup so he can retreat in peace and let someone else handle the mess, mostly Price or Laswell. But that doesn't mean he isn't pissed. He gets broodier than usual, and to cool off, he just waits for Soap to have his break so they can talk shit and gossip together.

Shepherd is probably that asshole manager who visits from time to time and always finds something to complain about. Graves is that one exchange coworker from another store who sometimes gets sent over when the personnel won’t be enough for the shift. At the beginning, everyone liked him, especially Soap, who got along with him like they were long-lost brothers, but Graves said some bullshit one day or did something disrespectful, and now everyone hates him—Soap especially. My guy doesn’t forgive nor forget, same as Ghost. Everyone else just tries to ignore Graves to the best of their ability.

When the shift ends, they always stay behind and talk a bit about work or life. It’s the most wholesome shit. Soap's probably the guy to come to work on a bike, but I think after everyone got comfortable with each other, Soap either lets himself be driven home by Gaz (Soap has some serious gas money debt) or by Ghost.

[pines-troz]

Pay Up - Gravity Falls Oneshot

Summary: Dipper finds an antique magnifying glass in the Gift Shop that he wants to keep. Grunkle Stan wants his nephew to pay extra, but Dipper has a trick up his sleeve. 

Word Count: 1,170

Genre: Family, Humor

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714506

AN: This fic takes place at some point during season one, after the events of Irrational Treasure and Summerween. One of the things I love about Dipper is how sassy and snarky he can be, and it’s a shame that some folks in the fandom gloss over that quality. So I wanted to write up a short story that’s essentially humorous banter between Dipper and Grunkle Stan. 

Working part-time at the Mystery Shack was a drag for young Dipper Pines. The curious adventurer could be out exploring the woods with his twin sister Mabel or solving the various mysteries that lay within Journal 3. But he was wasting away a golden afternoon working for his money-obsessed Grunkle who paid no heed to child labor laws. 

The place was empty, given that it was a Wednesday afternoon and not many tourists came by to visit, and it was just him and Grunkle Stan inside the Gift Shop. Soos and Mabel were busy washing the golf carts outside and Dipper was left to sweep the floor while Grunkle Stan manned the cash register since Wendy had called in sick. 

Dipper had finished up cleaning the floor and scanned around the store, satisfied with the hard work he put in. His gaze moved from the floor up to one of the bins where an antique magnifying glass caught the young detective’s attention. The boy walked over to the bin and gingerly picked up the precious magnifying glass. He carefully inspected the item, noting the quality condition of the glass and brown handle. Grunkle Stan must have stolen this item since it didn’t match the shoddy quality of the other items up for sale. 

He also pondered over the practical uses he could have with the magnifying glass. Sure, Journal 3 already had a magnifying glass attached to a string, Dipper only occasionally used it when reading through the mysterious text each night before going to bed. Dipper figured that he could use a portable magnifying glass during his excursions through the enchanted woods or at the library, where he would conduct research on the town’s history. And a part of him wanted to emulate his favorite fictional detectives, Sherlock Holmes (whom Dipper outsmarted earlier in the summer), and The Sibling Bros., one of his favorite YA protagonists. 

The magnifying glass looked too valuable to be placed in a gift shop filled with cheaply-made trinkets, like Mr. Mystery bobble-heads or other items that matched his Grunkle’s ego, and he would not stand idle and allow a blissfully ignorant tourist purchase it before he could. The antique item truly was a diamond in the rough, and Dipper was determined to obtain it by any means necessary!

Grunkle Stan was busy counting up the money cash register while filling Wendy’s post in her absence. “Called in sick, a likely story...” Stan thought to himself. He stopped counting the money in the cash register when he noticed Dipper looking at a magnifying glass he recently put in stock. 

“You know the rules kid, hands off the merchandise.” The con man gruffly reminded the boy. 

“Actually, I want to have this if that alright.” Dipper insisted. 

“Well then you’re gonna have to pay full price.” Stan countered. 

“Oh come on,” Dipper groaned, frustrated that his own family would make such a ludicrous demand. “Couldn’t you give me a family discount at least?”

Grunkle Stan knew Dipper would bring this up, but he came prepared with a counterargument. “I let you and your sister pick out one item from the Mystery Shack for free.” 

Dipper adjusted his iconic blue pine tree hat. He was grateful to get another one after losing his old hat in the woods during a battle with the gnomes earlier in the summer. Even though he appreciated Stan’s first subtle display of affection, it did not negate how annoyed he was of his Grunkle’s grubbiness when it came to business transactions. 

“Now I don’t want you gettin’ any more freebies or discounts from the gift shop.” Stan asserted.  “What do you think I pay you kids for anyway?” 

“You don’t pay us jack squat!” Dipper objected. “You know, the more I think about it, I feel like the Mystery Shack could benefit from a workers’ union!” 

It was at that moment that Stan became infuriated. He had just enough from this little smart alec. “Okay wiseguy, you’re paying an extra five bucks for that magnifying glass!” The con man shouted, crossing his arms smugly. “Now that’ll be ten bucks, kid.” 

Dipper rolled his eyes and turned away from the cash register. Of course, Grunkle Stan would want to jack up the price in retaliation. He reached into his vest pocket and felt a crinkled up dollar bill. But it was no ordinary piece of American currency, but rather an outdated piece of money granted to him by Quentin Trembly the Third Esquire, the Eighth-and-a-Half President of the United States of America. 

Dipper grinned menacingly, knowing that he had the upper hand. 

The boy turned around, playing the role of the defeated party as he wore a sullen frown. “Okay Grunkle Stan, I surrender. I should be more grateful that you pay me in food and lodging as opposed to minimum wage.” 

“You’re darn right, Dipper!” Stan emphasized. 

As soon as Dipper placed the bill into Stan’s calloused hand, he took his prize and sprinted towards the exit. “Success!” He thought to himself as he made his escape. 

Grunkle Stan smiled to himself. “Aha! Victory is mi-” He inspected the dollar to find not the face of Alexander Hamilton, but the face of some mutton-chopped weirdo with -12s on each corner. What is this malarkey?!? 

“A negative twelve dollar bill!” Stan yelled in disbelief. “This is absolutely worthless!” 

Suddenly the bell rang as the door to the Gift Shop opened and Dipper poked out from behind.  “It’s less than worthless!” He replied before slamming the door shut.

Grunkle Stan was left alone in the Gift Shop, feeling like a complete goon. He looked at the less-than-worthless currency in the palm of his hand. To think that his nephew had duped him out of some magnifying glass. Dipper had played him like a fiddle, and yet, he wasn’t upset at the slightest. 

In fact, Stan was very proud of Dipper. 

Tears of joy started swelling in his eyes. He had hoped to teach the kids valuable lessons in the art of pulling off schemes. Heck, their first bonding lesson of making counterfeit Benjamins had landed him in jail. But Stan had been smarter about his crimes. The last family bonding they had involved stealing decorations for Summerween, and only paying the cashier using Stan Bucks. Now Dipper had learned from the best and even added his own flair to his little crime. Instead of making up his own fake currency with amateur doodles, the kid used some sort of negative money that resembled a typical dollar bill to avoid paying extra for some magnifying glass, and he actually got off scot-free! 

Ever since Dipper and Mabel arrived, all he ever wanted was to connect with the kids, even using his unorthodox measures of pulling off cons and schemes. He was overjoyed that Dipper took it upon himself to beat him at his own game. 

“Heh. Conned by my own nephew.” Stan said to himself as he looked at the fake money in his hands. 

[buckyreaderrecs]

A Toast to Whiskey: Chapter 1 / 2

Summary: You work in an old bar hidden away from the modern world. It's almost charming, but not quite. That's probably why Bucky likes it.

Words: 2,325 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: Bucky needs a hug, recovering Bucky, mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), angst, she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with part 2, brief mention of Nazis, mental health will be prominent part of part 2

Note: Find this fic and others on A03 - click here. And follow this Tumblr! I post lists of Bucky/Reader fic writers and reblog all my favs. I’ve just started it, so would love the support! xo Rhi

Dedicated to: @browngirlmagic for the conversation. The next chapter is the Lush one!

A Toast to Whiskey Chapter 1 / 2

There were a lot of things in the dusty, old bar that made the man's jaw clench in annoyance, distaste, or anger. You were compiling a list of these things, doing your best to minimise their occurrences. There was one you couldn't avoid though, and it was almost amusing that it bothered him at all. Each time someone ordered a drink - beer, cocktail, shot, whatever - a clean glass was given. The man didn't like it. Was it not like that in his time?

If James Buchanan Barnes thought he'd gone unnoticed in the hole-in-the-wall bar you worked at, he was mistaken. Not entirely, to be fair; the baseball cap and quiet stopped the other patrons from even giving him a second glance. 'Patrons' might have been too civilised of a word to call them. They were old, sickly, local men that had been drinking the same beer from those same taps forever. Harmless, mostly. Unobservant, entirely. Not you though. The first day Bucky walked in and taken a barstool on the very corner, closest to the door, you knew exactly who he was.

Like a lot of people that came and went from the establishment, Bucky's seeking of anonymity was granted. You pretended to not recognise him. You were kind to him, a little more gentle than you were to others, but mostly just a good bartender. And in time, you grew accustomed to the charade. He came in a couple of afternoons a week, but never during the nights when it would be busy. Eventually, he even started to speak more than a couple words to you.

"New cap?" you greeted Bucky with a grin, putting the only drink he ever ordered down in front of him.

Bucky wrapped his right hand around the glass of whiskey. He glanced at you, smiled and shrugged.

"Speaking of new, can I ask you something?" you asked.

The expression on Bucky's face was guarded, but definitely one of concern. You realised you should have just asked, rather than let his mind spiral.

"What’s your problem with clean glasses?"

He looked surprised. Surprised was an experience Bucky wasn't particularly used to or fond of. He wouldn't hold it against you though.

"How do ya know I got a problem?" he asked back, genuinely curious.

Shrugging, you looked around casually. "Guess I notice a lot of things about people,"

"Right," he said slowly, knowingly. "I don't know… Just seems wasteful… Is it the law?"

"That we have to use clean glasses?" you asked with a laugh. "I don't know… probably not. I mean, it's more hygienic. Probably makes the drink taste cleaner or whatever. Board of Health might have a problem with us if we didn't… Not that I've seen one of them in here in years."

Bucky picked up his glass and finished the whiskey. "Fill her up," he quipped. He'd made a half-joke, and you appreciated the effort.

"Yes, sir. Lemme know if you, you know, what anything else," you told him, topping him up, knocking your knuckles on the bar top, and walking away.

…

Bucky Barnes certainly wasn't the most chatty person you'd met. It was better to ask questions if you wanted to pass time with conversations. Easy conversation was one of your special skills, being a bartender and all. However, it was incredibly difficult to do this when you were purposefully avoiding topics that would put Bucky in a position to have to, you know, admit his identity and all that. So, things stayed superficial.

No, Bucky didn't watch the game.

Yes, the weather's been insane.

No, he doesn't want any nut mix.

Okay, maybe yes to pretzels.

Yes, he can see your hair has changed colour.

Yes, he likes it.

For as long as it had taken to get to the point of superficial conversation, it didn't take any time at all to run out of things to say. As it turned out, neither you nor Bucky had lived, or were living, shallow enough lives to sustain it. There were questions you were begging to ask, and if he was honest with himself, Bucky was kinda just counting down until you finally spoke up.

…

"So, I got a question,"

"Mmm. You have a lot of questions," Bucky said, smirking then taking another sip of his whisky.

"You could ask me somethin' if you want a change of pace, pal."

It was a joke. Just banter. But a dark expression flashes across Bucky's face for only a split second. You didn't catch it.

"What's your question, Y/N?"

He knew your name?

Of course he knew your name. He was The Winter fucking Soldier. He probably knew everything about everyone that worked and frequented the bar. How had you not thought of that before? Suddenly, it seemed risky to ask what you had planned to.

Bucky watched you hesitate. He sighed and looked around at the empty room. It was a Monday afternoon and it was just before the regulars showed up to knock beer bottles together and catcall you across the bar. It was just you and him.

"Ask," he said softly, taking his cap off and setting it down on the barstool next to him. You watched Bucky run his hands through his hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.

"Why do you drink whiskey?"

Bucky laughed. Like, a proper heartfelt laugh. "What?" he said, nose still scrunched up in amusement.

"What?"

"Why do I drink whiskey?" he repeated.

"Yeah… I mean… It's disgusting… and, like, you… can't get drunk, right?"

There it was. You did it. Admitted you knew him. Which he figured out. So none of what was happening was really a big deal. But it sure as fuck felt like it.

"Right. I can’t- Well, I can, but it takes a lot,"

"Asgardian mead a lot?"

Bucky grinned and tipped his glass towards you. "How do you know about Asgardian mead?"

You snorted. "Everyone does. Everyone knows everything these days,"

"That's what we want you to think," he said, not skipping a beat.

It made you laugh. It was already better talking to him without false pretences. "So, whisky?"

"Ah… Guess it's that everything's different now… An' that's mostly good. But… You know."

No. No, you didn't know. How could you even begin to understand? "Yeah," you said, your voice far more quiet than you meant it to be.

"Whiskey's still whiskey,"

"It tastes the same?" you asked.

"Almost. Not exactly. Close enough,"

"Makes sense… But why here? S'not like this bar been here since the 40s or anything."

Bucky was visibly trying not to smile. Or make eye contact. "Ah… Not sure how to answer that without… offending ya,"

"Huh? ... Oh, I don't own the joint or anything,"

"You don't?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"No? You think I did? Why?"

"You're…" but he shrugged, still guarded. "I don't know," he lied. "But, ah, I was just lookin' for somewhere…"

"Pretty much stuck in the 40s or thereabouts?"

He nodded, smiling. "But without the Nazis,"

"Mmm… I mean… Have you watched the news lately?" you very quickly said.

"I try to avoid it," he admitted solemnly.

As people started to wander in, the conversation waned. Bucky watched you serve cold beer and pour bags of crisps into bowls. He listened to the worst songs being picked on the jukebox and he sat truly shocked you weren't even at least the daughter of the owner. Despite what you may have thought, he hadn't bothered to investigate you at all and finding his assumptions to be wrong was unsettling.

See, Bucky was a little bit smitten with you. He thought you were smart and sassy and timelessly beautiful. You were the ultimate perk of randomly picking this as his hideaway from the world. But, he figured you were only here because it was a family business. Why was someone smart, sassy and beautiful working strange hours at a shitty bar?

It was hard to say which of you was more curious about the other.

…

Something about what Bucky said had stuck in your head. Whiskey, his drink of choice, was the closest thing to his own time he could find. You could do better than that though.

About a year into working at the bar, you were finally allowed to venture into the cellar to clean it up. There were boxes of shit from forever ago down there and you just wanted it sorted, gone, and the space put to better use. Most of what lived beneath the floor was trash, but every hour or so you'd find something cool. A few vintage beer signs. Empty bottles of collector edition Coke. That kind of stuff. But, there was one thing you had found that you now wanted to stumble across again.

Nobody could remember where it had got to.

It took two days of searching to find it.

The bottle of whiskey was shoved under a bunch of paperwork in the office's bottom drawer desk. Not exactly where you'd store something worth a lot of money, but hey - the barely-there owners of the bar were eccentric, to put it nicely. You didn't recognise the brewing company on the peeling label, but that wasn't the point. The date on the bottle quite clearly read 1940.

When Bucky took his usual spot that afternoon, you bounced over to him with a grin on your face. He looked up at you, keeping his cap.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm so happy?" you said, elbows on the bar and head in your hands.

Bucky smiled a little. He seemed sad. Sadder than usual. Good timing.

"Why are you so happy?"

"'Cause I found something that's gonna make you real fuckin' happy. Check this out!"

You produced the bottle from where you had it stashed under the bar and handed it to Bucky.

Bucky's lips parted slightly and his eyes went all glossy. He read the label carefully, probably trying to place the brand you couldn't. He handled it so carefully, even more than you in your fear of dropping it.

"This is real," he finally said.

"Yeah. I found it in the basement ages ago and just remembered it. 1940, so I figure it's like, first or second batch after Prohibition, yeah?"

Bucky nods. "I guess…" he replied, smiling, remembering Prohibition. "And before all the distilleries had to stop again,"

"For what?" you asked.

"The war," he said so matter-of-factly that it hurt a little. He looked up then, saw your confusion. "Dunno if it was law or if they just did it, but most places stopped making drinking alcohol and started making stuff to help win the war. And ah, whiskey stopped being made because it took up too much crops. I don't know. Something like that."

Something like that. Like he hadn't lived history.

"I didn’t know that. That's…" Not 'cool.' "That makes sense… Anyway. Open it," you ordered, getting out two clean glasses.

Bucky put the bottle on the bar and looked at you seriously. "Y/N, that's gotta be worth… a lot… Can't open it for no reason,"

"Nobody here cares about it. And besides, it's not really no reason, is it?" He didn't move or say anything. "Bucky." He flinched at his name, glanced around to make sure nobody heard. They hadn't. "I think you kinda earned this one, yeah? Now do me the honours."

Why was everyone in Bucky's life so goddamn stubborn?

He sighed and opened the bottle silently. You nodded in encouragement, letting him pour.

"A toast," you posed, holding your glass up. Bucky mimicked your action. "A toast to…" Everything in your head sounded either very cliché or very sad.

"Whiskey," Bucky finished.

"Whiskey," you agreed.

Drinking at the same time, Bucky swallowed in two gulps while you struggled with a sip.

"Jesus fucking Christ it tastes like cat piss now and it did then," you whined, pouring the liquid left in your glass into Bucky's. He laughed at you.

After drinking that down quickly, Bucky reached across the bar and took your hand in his. "Thank you, Y/N. Really."

A toast to finding things that make us less homesick.

…

After the 1940 whiskey, Bucky came in more regularly. He stayed longer, despite the place filling with people. He even began to talk to the other regulars when they sat at the bar and argued with you about politics, the news, and kids these days. You watched him play devil's advocate, siding with the old men, sarcastically poking fun at you with a quick comment every now and then.

You weren't sure when it happened, but you realised Bucky had grown to be comfortable in the space. And there was something about that that made you ridiculously happy. Like, sunbeams bouncing around on the inside of you making you all hot and tingly and full of joy whenever he was there kind of happy. It was gross.

Bucky would walk in, sit, place his cap down and grin at you with his cute little teeth and sparkly blue eyes. It made your day without exception, and you started to notice more little things about him and how they made you feel. When he hooked his hand behind his ear it would make your stomach flip.

One time, when he was telling you a story about carnival rides and baby Steve throwing up, a loose strand of hair fell across his face and you immediately and unconsciously leant across the bar and folded it gently behind his ear for him. Bucky froze, and you went to apologise, but he spoke first. "Thanks," he said softly, with more meaning than the situation called for, then continued on with his story.

It was like that for just over a month. Then he stopped coming in. There was nothing in his final visit to indicate he wasn't coming back. Bucky just disappeared.

CLICK TO READ PART 2/2

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

The Tug || Stan U. x Fem?Reader

Requested: @trash-mouthlover Could you do a cute soulmate au with good ol Stan the man. If not that's cool too. P.s. your writings are amazing!

A//N: Absolutely! I love Stan the man! I will always love my sassy little noodle-head boi. I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!! P.s. thank you, you are so sweet! After a lot of searching I finally decided on this soulmate au:

-You can feel a tug from wherever your soulmate is. These may either be automatic or have stronger tugs whenever your soulmate is in distress.

Also, while writing this, it actually started to morph into a Bev x reader without realizing and I had to steer it back on track 😂 Also, going back and reading it, I’m realizing there is almost no interaction between Stan and the reader and for that I apologize, this is the first time writing a soulmate au and I quickly realized, I’m not that good at it. Also, I’m probably gonna make a part two at some point to make up for the lack of Stan x Reader.

Pairings: Stan Uris x Fem!Reader    <btw, the whole fem!reader is only on one small technicality and that was because reader uses the girls bathroom. But technically you can read it as any gender considering they didn’t exactly have gender neutral bathrooms so it can be read as either way I believe>

Warnings: Some cursing. Henry Bowers being creepy for like two seconds. Greta being mean and throwing literally ONE homophobic slur. It felt in character but I still didn't enjoy writing it and might take it out later.

{EDITED AS OF 6•17•19}

Summer break.

Fucking finally.

You forgot how angelic the final bell was on the last day of school. You were gladly swept along the ocean of kids into and down the hallway until you found yourself in front of your locker.

Entering the code you've done mindlessly so for the past 9 months for the final time. The metal door swung open and hit the adjoining lockers with a rather obnoxious clang that was drowned out by the crowd in the hallway. Given that your bus wouldn't show up for another twenty minutes, you knew you were in no hurry so you took your time emptying out your lockers contents. Having learned your lesson from last year, you had brought a spare plastic grocery bag for trash. You had just finished separating the trash and were now putting the rest of your belongings into your bag when you couldn't help but overhear a snippet of conversation from some passing boys in the hallway.

"Yeah, and I think the rabbi's gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say, 'Where's the beef?'"

With a curious frown, you froze and looked over your shoulder to see the infamous Richie, the trashmouth Tozier. Oh, you were definitely familiar with him. With a small shake of the head, you rolled your eyes and smiled. You closed your locker, swung your backpack over your shoulder and made your way to the girls room.

Of course, the traffic in the hall was still pretty congested so you found yourself a few feet behind Richie and his friends. Anxious to get to the bathroom, yet, as usual, there seemed to be absolutely no wiggle room to squeeze by leaving you no option but to trail behind them awkwardly unintentionally overhearing their conversation. You only saw the backs of their heads and you took an educated guess of who's who. To his right was a blonde boy, just a little taller than Richie, who you assumed to be Bill Denbrough. You frowned at the thought.

Poor boy.

Derry was a relatively small town, or at least small enough for word to travel fast. And the strange passing of his little brother Georgie was no exception. Everyone heard about that. To his right, the tallest boy, who was wearing a kippah, began speaking.

"At the Bar Mitzvah, I read from the Torah, and then I make a speech and suddenly I become a man."

Having been previously staring at your shoes, you nervously look up when you get the sudden feeling of being watched. Your eyes hastily dart up and you curse yourself under your breath when you see the cold dark eyes of Henry Bowers and his posse look you up and down.

No longer feeling safe, you quickly return your gaze to the floor, tighten your grip on your backpack straps and push past the boys. Unintentionally shoving them aside, a pang of guilt passes over you and you quickly turn your head back and throw a quick "sorry" their way.

You visibly relaxed when you reached the safety of the long hallway of the girls bathroom.

What you saw made your face scrunch up in confusion, there was a pair of girls standing around but the suspicious thing was one of them was filling up the trash bag from the garbage can up with water in the sink. Deciding staying out of it was your best option you kept to yourself and walked into one of the unoccupied stalls. The smell of a burning cigarette filled your senses and you couldn't help but cringe.

You had just done your business and done what you needed to do, you were just about ready to pull open the stall door when you heard an angry grunt followed by the sound of someone kicking the nearby stall. You froze out of instinct.

"Are you in there by yourself, Beaver-ly? Or do you have half the guys in the school with you, huh, slut? I know you're in there, little shit. I can smell you."

You frowned. You wanted to say something, but Greta was ruthless and you didn't what to say. You felt ashamed for sitting there, doing nothing.

"Which is it, Greta? Am I a slut or a little shit? Make up your mind." You couldn't help but smile at that. Good for her.

"You're trash."

Thump.

Oh, no.

Now you understood why the girl had been filling up the garbage.

You hastily opened the door to do something, not knowing what yet. You came out just in time to see the other girl standing on the neighbor toilet dumping the trash bag full of water into Beverly's stall.

"Hey! Get out of here! Leave the poor girl alone!" You yell, livid.

"A bit late to defend your girlfriend, you dirty little dike." She spit in your direction causing you to jump back in disgust.

The three girls laughed and strutted out of the bathroom.

It was quiet for a moment and you walked to stall Beverly was still in.

You two knew each other. You weren't exactly friends, but you didn't hate each other or anything. You were acquaintances.

Until now.

You softly knocked on the stall and asked in a quiet voice.

"Hey, you need any help?"

+++

You were glad you made friends with Beverly Marsh. She was kind and funny and the two of you had a lot more in common than you'd realized. Of course, the time came for you to catch your bus and the two of you parted ways, not before making plans to hang out later of course.

You made your way onto the crowded bus for the final time and took a seat in your regular spot and got out your walkman and pressed play, turning off your brain. Many bus stops later you found yourself in your regular routine. You rounded the familiar corner of your neighboring street, only two blocks away from your house when it happened.

That tug.

The one everyone talked about. Bragged about even.

Sure a couple of times you thought you felt it, or the ghost of the tug. But this time you were sure.

It wasn't the good tug either, it was the rapid, frantic tug. It made your heart flutter. Were they okay? You'd heard stories of a soulmate being in distress, but it never felt like this. It was frantic and the pull was in every direction at once. It caused your own heart to thud rapidly against your chest. Once again you felt helpless. But what could you do? You didn't even know who your soulmate was.

Unable to think about anything else, you let your feet carry you home as your worried mind conjured endless scenarios. Anything that could possibly explain what the hell was happening. To your great relief, it gradually relaxed. Lulled into a soft but present tug.

They were safe. For now.

+++

A few days later, you finally were able to meet up with Beverly. She had insisted on going out and doing literally anything other than staying inside. When you stopped by her house and had a rather unpleasant greeting from her father you immediately understood why. The two of you were content with walking around town, and when she mentioned she needed to stop by the drug store you obliged. Naturally, you told her about the tug from the other day and she listened intently, invested in the conversation and offering advice as friends do. Which you greatly appreciated.

"I know, right? I'm glad you think so, I was starting to think I was paranoid or maybe I, I don't know..." You trailed off when you noticed two boys in the alleyway, one of them looked to be pretty bloodied up.

"Hey, why don't you go inside and get your supplies, I'll meet you out here? Sound good?" She looked confused but seemed to understand you had a good reason.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure thing." She smiled and headed inside, the ring of the store bell echoing.

Your eyes never broke contact with the boys in the alley and you walked toward them to offer help.

Upon closer examination, or rather being within earshot, you realized it was none other than Richie Tozier."Glad I got to meet you before you died." He said awkwardly standing above the bloodied up kid who was sitting on a crate.

You recognized the kid. It was the new kid, Ben. You remembered him from math class. He was a sweet kid.

"Alright, now just what did you do to him, Tozier?" You called out teasingly, grabbing the attention of the two young boys.

Richie's eyes bugged out behind his big glasses before he quickly recovered.

"Oi! Wassen' me I'm tellin ya!" He squeaked in awkward accent.

"Yikes! That accent needs a little work there, Tozier."You winked and turned to the bleeding boy before you could catch the offended look from Richie.

"Ben, right?"

He nodded.

"[Y/N]. Nice to meet ya." You two shared a polite but genuine smile.

You crouched down to meet his eye level, and sat on one leg."So, I'm just gonna assume that you that there actually IS someone who can help? You are aren't just letting yourself bleed out in some alley with this douche, right?" You said with a crooked smile, gesturing with your thumb to the speckled boy in a Hawaiian shirt.

You and Richie had known each other for a couple months. You two were the only ones who could keep each other sane during social studies class. Friendly banter was not uncommon between you two.

"Y-Yeah, they went inside," Ben spoke up.

"May I?" I gesture to his injury to take a look and he obliges.

You gently straighten out his shirt to examine the injury and it doesn't take too long to notice the three deep gashes that form an "H" on his stomach. You press your lips into a firm line, sighing, meeting the poor boy's eye.

"Bowers, huh?" You said quietly.

"Yeah." He admits quietly.

"Yeah, he is a real prick." You mumbled, terrified to say such things even when he's nowhere around.

Suddenly, you thought you felt a gentle tug in the center of your chest and your attention was quickly snatched at the sound of the drug store bell ringing rapidly. You heard a cluster of hurried footsteps and you stood to your feet turning in the direction of the noise to see two of three boys scurrying down the alley carrying a bunch of supplies.

You recognized the boys to be one the very same ones from school the other day. You could only name one, and that was Bill, although he seemed hesitant to walk over. It seemed he was more interested in something just outside the alley.

"I'm assuming you guys are the medical team I've heard so much about. Great response time." You quipped sending a smile.

The shortest one, who was carrying all the supplies was focused only on tending to Ben, which you dubbed a good thing.

"Why do you have two fanny packs?" You asked.

"I don't want to get into it right now, who are you anyway?"

"Y/N. I noticed Ben here in the alley, you know, bleeding out. And I figured, I better come rescue him from the company or Tozier, here." You smirk, and earning a glare and a snide comment from Richie.

Soon enough, the attention redirects itself back to Ben's wound. Richie starts yelling at the boy tending to Ben, who you learned his name to be Eddie, and Eddie argues back.

"You gotta suck the wound dry before applying the band aids. This is 101."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." You snort, and seem to have earned a chuckle from the other boy.

You were about to turn and introduce yourself when you heard a familiar voice.

"Are you okay? That looks like it hurts."

"Bev, there you are!" You stand up and make room for Eddie to tend to Ben.

You take a few steps back and stand next to the girl. It was then you made eye contact with Bill. He had a hint of recollection.

"[Y-Y/n], r-r-right?"

You smile politely.

"The one and only. Nice to meet you... Bill?" You asked his name, confidently, but asked anyway not wanting to seem weird.

He nodded and you took your hand out of your pocket for a brief moment to shake hands with the tallest boy.

"And I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met?" You asked politely.

The tallest boy stood still, almost in a daze of some sort and you frowned slightly, pulling your hand back hesitantly.

You looked around at the other boys in confusion. "Did- Did I say something, or-?"

Richie waltzed over, with the largest, shit-eating grin you had ever seen and placed his arm around the boy's shoulder shaking him slightly.

"Oh, no! Don't be silly! Ol' Stan the Man here loses his shit when he sees somethin' he likes." With that same shit-eating grin, he looked you in the eyes, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

You quirked an eyebrow and chuckled softly. "Excuse me?"

Before Richie could answer, the boy, Stan you presumed, spoke up, elbowing Richie in the process.

"Can it, Richie."

He sighed and straightened himself out as he looked back to you, awkwardly sticking out his hand to shake yours. "Stan Uris."

You smiled warmly and reached out to take his hand. "[Y/N] [L/N]."

The two of you froze when you simultaneously felt the same tug, the strongest you had ever felt, the one your parents gushed about, and you two shared a look. Silently agreeing not to bring it to attention and save it for later you two smiled at each other and turned to the poor kid who was still getting patched up. Although you couldn't help the blush that rivaled Stan's.

You made a mental note to ask him what happened to him the other day...

Bev directed her attention to the Ben, they seemed to know each other

She had a certain glint in her eye as she spoke to him.

"You sure they got the right stuff, to fix you up?"

Bill spoke up. "W-We'll take care of him. Thanks again, Beverly."

"Sure," she nodded, then turned gesturing to you. "Maybe, we'll see you around."

You made eye contact with Stan, and smiled knowingly, causing another blush to dust his cheeks and he awkwardly coughed.

It seemed everyone was oblivious to this, thankfully.

"Yeah, we were thinking about going to the q-quarry tomorrow, if you guys wa-wanna come."

You and Beverley shared a look and you turned to the boys. "Good to know."

"Yeah, thanks."

Hiding your smirk, the two of you turned and walked down the alley together.

This would definitely be interesting.

+++++

⇴ The Tug - [Part 2]

[cinaminho]

Stray Mafia: You get Snarky/Sassy with them

Uh ohhhh back again with a flop y'know

╰ Group: Straykids

╰ Genre: comedy

╰ Warnings: Language,, very mild violence ,, some are shorter than others,, not in order

Request:Hi can I please have a skz mafia scenario where you get into an argument and you say something really sassy like or snarky please 💓

BTW: in case you don't know their roles

Chan • Leader,, sets up every mission ,, plans everyone's position ,, always has a backup plan ,, prefers to use a bat//stick because people tend to underestimate those types of weapons,, Chan states "you just gotta know how to use them"

Changbin • Under boss ,, calls shots when Chan isn't present and is the head in negotiating ,, he's also a great sniper

Woojin • in charge of the cartel,, intelligent so you can't mess him over when it comes to supplies,, hand gun/knife/sword master

Minho • Head Spy ,, good in undercover missions,, Teams best non weapon fighter,, great with making poisons (thank you Yuta)

Hyunjin • Weapon suppliier ,, knows how to get military weapons because of connections,, underestimated because he looks innocent,, knows how to use 98% of weapons made

Felix • the interrogator,, his deep voice is intimidating ,, isn't afraid to torture you if he has to just to get the info that is needed

Jisung • Hacker,, tech prince,, might be able to get secrets from the Pentagon to be honest,, hacking skills are as faster than sending and retrieving a text,, he's also good at kidnapping enemies so they can be interrogated

-

Plot - Your Dark World Lover has hit below the bit or caused irritation to you so you get back him the best way you know how which is by being cunning with your words and snappy attitude.

/// .•°*♡

- - -

{ Chan }

"You walk around so high and mighty because you're a leader of your own mafia now which is ironic to me considering your brain isn't even half the size of the bullets you use I bet!"

You spat at your significant other as his back was turned to you, he had cancelled your date night again because of underworld business, he just blew you off without even trying to Reassure you that you could reschedule. Your tone caught his attention as he froze in the middle of tying his Neck tie . He spun slowly on the heels of his dress shoes to you, his normal smile gracing his face as his shoes clicked on the marbel floor your stood your ground crossing one foot infront of the other along with your arms. Once Chan was infront of you he teasingly Bent down to be eye level with you. He grazed his finger under your chin.

"Because I think you're on your monthly, I'll take your snappy attitude that is however the only time I will except it." He spoke before cupping the back of your neck and slowly leaning his lips to your ear.

"There are limits to my patience remember that, My dear."

{Woojin}

He was not having it clearly you must've forgot just how rude Woojin could get so when you gave him a slick remark due to him saying you needed to clean up more which you had , the place was spotless, Woojin was just a neat freak, you figured he was just in a bitch mood.

"Look Y/n just clean up." He frustratedly ordered once more.

"Clean up what Woojin? You know actually tell you what, how 'bout for once YOU clean, start with that dumb ass attitude." You exclaimed.

Woojin looked as if you'd gone mad his before you knew it he was slightly leaning over you as he stood over you who sat on the couch his hands were gripping the Arms of the couch to support himself lightly hovering over you. You were screaming silently, your skin grew hotter as your nerves heightened.

"Don't think I won't lock you away to set you right little girl..You ever talk to me like that again and I'll have you afraid to even speak greetings to anyone."

{Changbin}

You. Fucked. Up. Completely.

Now be no fool, Changbin loved you now that it was known it wouldn't change and as a loving couple of course you two would get into little spats naturally but this one was more heated, words of furious lovers were being threw back and forth, Fury gazes, neither willing to admit defeat, you really were blindsided by your anger you didn't notice until you'd said it, you just had to poke the bear though, right?

"Don't be a bitch okay?" You sarcastically stated.

"The phrase 'it takes one to no one' doesn't nearly fit enough in this situation." He responded matching your clearly sarcasm, you flickered from crazy to insane just like that before you knew it you were attempting to slap him. He grabbed your hand.

You looked between him and the hand that was in his grasp, his face scrunched in a murderous form, evident heavy breathing came from you both, one fear , one livid anger. His teeth were clenched so tightly you were they may break. Soon after silence and anticipation came his next actions. The base of his thumb pressed painfully deep into the palm of your hand adding a bit of his nail as well , you winced loudly as your knees became weak collapsing under you , so , down you went. He wasn't letting up either as he stared at your tortured pained face.

"Mark my words and God as your witness you're clearly out of your Damn mind if you're raising your hand at me, you will only be able to use your feet and mouth to feed you if you pull this bullshit Ever again. I promise."

{Minho}

"Of all the Days in the world you choose the today to go on a mission WHICH MAY I ADD,, you excepted behind my back you selfish son of a--"

"~Easyy there baby tiger, your anger is a weapon while the words are the ammunition." He Cheshirely grinned. Your gaze narrowed you in all honest felt a vain about to pop out of your neck from restraining your urge to strangle him.

"You're a Dick." You said through gritted teeth

Minho's mouth dropped open, he was at a loss for words, soon that changed once he Laughed, he seemigly and genuinely found you hilarious his adorable gummy smile filled with mischief was show cased as he doubled over laughing at you.

Minho glided towards you with his hands behind his back you held your head up high prepared for whatever it was that he has to say, or at least you hoped you were.

His face looked over yours carefully trying to call your bluff. He tilted his head to the side letting out a cute cackle. You hated when he didn't take you seriously.

"You really are the cutest thing when you try to snap back at me, good try , same time tomorrow?" He suggested before walking away leaving you to silently scold yourself. One of these days you'd get under his skin enough.

{Hyunjin}

"So you can locate Foreign weapons but can't locate the dairy aisle in a store? Remarkable."

He was showing some of the latest weapons that he obtained and allowed you to come along you wanted to tease and have a little fun but really you didn't choose the best time to try and make a joke out of him, on purpose of course. He'd had just about enough of your playful banter shenanigans . He excused himself from the group of men who also didn't find your humor amusing to talk to you.

"Y/n I don't think now Is the time to joke." He spoke flatly.

"I'm just joking lighten up."

Hyunjin looked towards the men who were paying attention to his high profile weapon shelf before he turned back to you, he snaked his hand through your hair giving you a soft smile. His soft touch soon became rough as he fisted some of your hair slightly bringing his face inches closer to yours.

"Do I look like I care that you're joking? Now Is not the time to joke I said."

He yanked his hand away from your head , your hand soon reaching to sooth the burn from where he'd pulled it, you were flabbergasted.

{Jisung}

You were literally talking to your friend about him while he was in the next room, he'd asked that you didn't speak about him to your friends for safety purposes , however, you thought he was just overreacting. Seriously what harm could it do? You were going to find out as you paid the price for ignoring his request or your phone would at least.

"This is my Last time requesting this, Y/n, please do not discuss me with your friends." He huffed puffing his cheeks out. You thought he was cute but the reddned hue on his cheeks indicated he was losing his patience. His fist balled at his sides, nails digging in the skin of his own palms.

"Jisung stop being a drama queen." You snickered.

Jisung's eye twitched slightly. "Drama Queen? , noted." He smirked. Before you knew it he Walt's over to you snatching the phone from your grasp not giving you time to question his actions before he savagely smashed it to the ground with a frustrated growl.

You let out a squeak as you stared at the broken electronic devise. Jisung smiled at his dilberate work.

"Oh, and if you ever call me a drama Queen again. There is way more where that came from, m'kay Pumpkin?" He stated before patting your head and walking away.

{Felix}

You were in the middle of a heated discussion and honestly you weren't listening because there was no way in hell you were postponing your wedding because his 'business' could get in the way of that. His words were going in one ear and out of the other.

"Honestly you're wasting not only your words on a useless excuse and my time. For someone who claims to be intelligent you sure sound like a numbskull right now."

Your words were like poisoned darts. You began to exit the room but Felix to big steps to soon be infront of you blocking your exit. He gripped your lower jaw snitching it in his so you had no other choice but to look at him as his grip gradually tightened if you tried to look away, you had to face the demon.

"Don't even think of insulting my intelligence! and This conversation is far from over. So pull up a seat. Shut up and listen , close your mouth for a millisecond. I'm postponing the wedding because the location may be compromised, if you'd just open your ears you'd know that I've stated that ,bridezilla ,know my reasoning behind my actions before you speak." He firmly demanded.

You were completely loss for words you couldn't find your voice so you kept your lips sealed. Felix smugly smirked at your expression.

"You've got something on your face." He declared squinting over your features.

"Ahh that's what it is. The look of pure stupidity." He said matter of factly .

[aikoiya]

Rebel Adrien AU

Adrien Agreste is done with his father's bullshit. So, he goes full-on classic rock punk, maybe a bit soft rock, but nothing too metal, not HEAVY metal anyway.

He rebels, but it's mostly against Gabriel. Other assholes & bullies also get the attitude, but not as much or as bad as Gabriel.

Like, Adrien becomes this mix of Canon Adrien, Chat Noir, & a young Jagged Stone almost. He becomes a sassy, witty, smart-ass, rebel, but again, only to those who earn his ire. Hell, at times, he even comes across as a bit of a thug in order to get bullies to back off of their target. He doesn't get violent, but he does get all up their face & use both intimidation & his brain to get them to step off.

At the same time, he's still Adricat at heart. Still, kind & gentle & sweet, just with a bad-boy side & a rebel heart; a sweetheart in a leather jacket. Still loves puns & enjoys witty banter.

Jagged adores the kid (having 1st met Adrien in Pixelator & instantly taken a liking to him) because he's genuine & reminds the man of himself at that age, so he teaches Adrien to play guitar.

Adrien & Nino later form a band. Adrien's oldschool rock playing-style with Nino's newschool DJ tunes create a very unique sound that both kids & adults enjoy, foisting XY from his number 1 seat. (Jagged actually cries, he's so proud & more than happy to perform with his little buddy's band! On the other hand, instead of Guitar Villain, XY gets akumatized as a result.)

Adrien doesn't stop taking the classes his dad makes him. Not out of some sense of obligation, more so to prove that he CAN have a life & still successfully keep up with them at the same time. He actually puts in extra effort to do so, proactively asking for tips & advice from people to tutor him so that he has a leg-up.

This leads to him spending time at the Dupain-Cheng Bakery where Sabine tutors him in Mandarin, but in a more organic way than drills & worksheets. Rather, she begins to speak Mandarin in casual conversation, inserting it amongst her typical speech with emotive expression, gesticulating hand-gestures, & comprehensive body language to match her words, allowing for those around her to better piece together what she's saying without having to resort to looking it up & thus, understand her easier.

Tom follows suit (though, he isn't as good at it as Sabine) & this becomes routine around the bakery. Adrien's Mandarin improves by leaps & bounds, to the point where it becomes painfully obvious to Nathalie that the Mandarin Lessons that his father assigned for him are actually holding him back. After a while, the kid even gets to the point where it's him who's correcting his Mandarin Teacher (Not Fu) rather than the other way around. It gets so bad that Adrien now skips what he now calls 'Remedial Mandarin' altogether, ignoring his father's threats in favor of sneaking out to continue his 'Advanced Lessons.'

Even Marinette finds herself subconsciously learning the language without even realizing it until one day her mom asks where the new cocoa shipment imported from the Dominican Republic was stored in Mandarin & Mari promptly replies in kind before Tom or Adrien gets the chance to.

Everyone, especially Mari, is stunned, but Sabine is quickly beaming with pride & Tom soon follows. Even Adrien seems pleased. Sabine is just overjoyed to be sharing a part of her heritage with her daughter & when autumn comes around there's a new product being sold at the bakery. One that Sabine has Tom, Marinette, & even Adrien & as many of their friends & classmates (not to mention, Sabine had even, somehow, managed to finagle her Uncle Wang & Nona Gina into just so happening to come & visit around that same time) that could volunteer to help in the initial production; Yue-Bing, or Mooncakes. They sell them in several flavor combinations; either lotus seed or red bean paste for filling, with salted egg yolks, mixed nuts, fruit, or seeds inside.

They're a hit.

Back to Rebeldrien; he starts taking weekend parkour & freerunning classes to hopefully become a better hero.

At 1 point during 1 of Adrien's Mandarin Sessions, in order to make conversation, Sabine offhandedly mentions, in full Mandarin speech, how Chat Noir wasn't utilizing his weapon to it's fullest potential. Adrien, responds in kind, & being very personally invested in the topic at hand, he tries to nonchalantly asks if she really thinks so, to which she replies, "Well of course, dear! You can tell by his stance & how he's holding his weapon..." She then directs the boys attention towards the news footage they'd been watching featuring Chat Noir going toe-to-toe with the most recent akuma, directing towards the masked hero's hand, which is holding his staff. "The fact that he's wielding his weapon 1 handed using jabs, strikes, slashes, & parries, tells me that he's using it like a sword."

She ponits towards Chat's feet, "Then, there's the way he's standing; feet apart, torso turned to the side, head facing the opponent, 1 hand behind his back, movement through advancing & retreating. That's not just a sword style, he's fencing & unfortunately, fencing doesn't go well with his weapon." Turning back to Adrian, she continues, "I mean, it's fine if you find yourself in a sticky situation, you only know how to fence & all you have to fight with is a metal rod, but it isn't a good idea to do that regularly. A metal rod isn't the same thing as a fencing foil, which is made & balanced for exactly this kind of fighting style, but a metal rod is going to be heavier than a foil. Which means it's putting unecessary stress on Chat's wrist & forearm. Eventually, it could damage them if he isn't careful."

This stuns Adrian into silence for a bit as he thinks, before speaking up. "If that's the case, then what do you think he should do? I mean, what if that's the only way he knows how to fight?" Sabine looks at the boy inquiringly, expectantly. "Well, how do you think he should go about doing it?"

For a single, terrifying moment, Adrian thought that she might've known that he was Chat Noir, but it passed. After all, there was no way. "He should... learn a new style?" His Shifu smiled, "That's right, & if he were to ask me, I'd suggest a pole style. After all, that rod can adjust its size at will can't it? Might as well utilize that to your advantage. It's a great asset after all."

Later, Adrien learns of Sabine's skills at fighting, specifically in Bojutsu (just because she's Chinese doesn't mean she has to use Gùn-Style) & completing his 1st year at Dupont; Adrien drops Fencing entirely, choosing instead to ask Mrs. Cheng to teach him her style of Bojutsu. He even takes up MMA, Capoeira, & Breakdance Fighting on the side.

The Capoeira is something that mixes well with both Bojutsu (as both utilize pole fighting) & Breakdance fighting (as both are an unpredictable dance-like fighting style).

He definitely looses far less & takes fewer risks due to Sabine's teaching.

[picturetoburnnn]

New Momma? | Michael Clifford x Reader

Pairing - m.c. x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning - mentions of death

A/N - Tbh I love this so much, itts probably my favorite so far that ive written and i just love dadsos so much okay

“Daddy, daddy! I want this one!” The five year old jumped up and down, pointing to the sparkliest doll on the shelf.

“Really, princess? Don’t you have one just like it?” He held the box in his hands, deciding yes, she has one nearly identical to this at home, I just know it.

“She wants a twin,” the little girl squealed, raising her hands in an exaggerated shrug.

“Bells, if this is the one you get, I’m not going to come back and return it when you don’t wanna play with it anymore,” he warned, knowing full well he’d give in to her wishes, if that's what she really wanted.

“Yes, yes, yes, this is the one I want! Thank you daddy!” She hugged Michael’s legs, squishing her cheek against the denim before jumping up and down again.

“You’re welcome baby,” he set the box in the cart, making sure he had everything on his list before heading to the iconic red Target checkout lane. As he placed his items on the conveyor, he heard his daughter speak up.

“Do you think Miss Y/N will play with me when we get home?”

He quirked a smile at her, mussing her hair playfully. “Silly Bella, of course she will. She loves playing with you.”

The girl beamed up at her father, her grin a mirror image of his.

In the parking lot, Bella strayed a few steps away from the cart, causing a small panic to rise in Michael. “Bells, what’s the rule?” He reminded as gently as he could.

“Hand on the cart,” she said almost dejectedly, reaching her hand over to grasp the buggy.

“Thank you, honey. Wanna pop the trunk?”

She perked up immediately. “Yes, please!” Making grabby hands at the key fob in Michael’s she squeaked in delight when it was handed to her. She pressed the button as they got closer, and smiled at the satisfying “thump” of the latch releasing.

After quickly storing the bags in the trunk, replacing the cart, and safely bucking his daughter in the backseat, they finally started back home. The music playing through the car radio was the only sound, which was very unusual. Normally, Bella would be recounting every fairytale and daydream she’s had throughout the day when she’s in the car.

Picking up on the change, Michael asked “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Daddy, why don't I have a mommy?”

The question stunned him into silence. What could he say? How was he supposed to tell his baby girl, the light of his life, that her mother was gone? That she couldn't come back?

“Your momma got sick baby. The kind of sick that medicine can’t help. But she loved you baby, she loved you so much.”

God, there were tears filling his eyes now. “She… your mother was the sweetest woman I ever knew. She was so loving, and kind.”

“Is she in heaven? I heard Lily down the street saying her nana went to heaven.”

“If there’s a heaven baby, there is not a doubt in my mind, she is there.”

He saw her nod in the rear view mirror.

“Hey,” he called softly. “Don’t let this ruin your mood for the whole day, okay? We can still have a good time, right?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

The ride was silent, but a comfortable silence, all the way to the driveway.

“Wanna help daddy carry bags in?”

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling.

From lifting bags from the trunk to setting them down on the kitchen counter, Bella had a slight cloud above her head. Michael nudged her arm slightly.

“Y/N's not here yet,” Bella noted with a frown.

“She will be this evening, though,” Michael told her. Her demeanor shifted immediately.

“Really?” Her eyes lit up. He nodded.

“Is she gonna be my new momma?”

Michael flat out dropped the box of crackers he was holding. “I'm sorry?”

“I wouldn't mind her being my mom. She's nice. Brings me candy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Michael couldn't help the smile growing on his face. “I wouldn't mind it either, Bells. I kinda want that too.”

Bella faked a gasp. “Daddy has a crush?”

Michael rolled his eyes, playfully nudging the five year old. “Alright there missy, first of all, it's more than a crush, and you know it. If you're a child of mine, you just use proper insults. Secondly, don't pretend for a second that you don't love her too.”

“Well, duh. I never said that.”

The father rolled his eyes, quirking a brow. “You're sassy tonight, what's up with that? I might have to do something to fix that,” he chuckled, holding his fingers out towards her. She knew what this meant.

“No! No tickles!” She giggled as she ran away from her dad on her tiny legs, not near fast enough to outrun him. He swung her up in his arms, running his fingers up and down her sides, reveling in the squeaks and laughter emitting from his daughter.

“What,” came a new voice, “is going on here?”

“Daddy's the tickle monster,” screamed Bella in between bursts of laughter.

“Is that so?” Y/N's hands rested on her hips, lips pursed. “What have I said about tickle fights?”

Michael stopped immediately, feigning innocence.

“Never without me!” The woman shrieked out before starting to tickle the girl as well. Poor Bella now had both the adults in her life tickling her, pinning her down on the couch.

“Stop it, stop it!” she managed out, and slowly the pair withdrew, and turned to look at each other.

“Hello, love, how was your day?” Y/N smiled sweetly, caressing his cheek as she asked.

“Alright. Ran to the store after picking Bella up from Uncle Ash and Aunt Britt's. They said she was good, but might not eat dinner, he fed her so much.”

“No dinner?” Y/N asked, turning her head to the kid on the couch, who had finally caught her breath. “But I was gonna make your favorite!”

Bella gasped, eyes sparking. “Spaghetti and meatballs?”

Y/N nodded. “But if you're too full from Uncle Ash, I guess just Dad and I will eat it.” She shrugged.

“No, no, no, no! I'm so hungry right now, I could eat a whole bowl all by myself!”

Y/N laughed, meeting Michael's eyes once more. “Let me go get change out of my work clothes and I'll start on dinner, ‘kay?”

He nodded. “One condition, though. I didn't get a kiss when you walked in. I feel cheated so I ask for two now.”

She snickered but conceded, pressing her lips to his in a quick kiss. “I gotta change,” she claimed when he tried to steal a third. He fake pouted as she climbed the steps.

Bella gave him a knowing look, but he just told her “Go change into something you don't mind getting pasta sauce on.” She scurried upstairs as well, and he wasn't far behind.

Knocking lightly on their shared bedroom door, Michael entered slowly. His eyes were immediately drawn to Y/N, who was changing in the process of deciding which of Michael's shirts to steal for the evening.

“You didn't let me ask how your day was.”

“Sorry, babe. Go ahead.” She pulled a shirt over her head.

“How was your day?”

“Wasn't great. Eric apparently decided not to tell me the presentation wasn't ready for tomorrow, so I had to add that to my list for today. Garrett called in sick, so my banter buddy was gone. Britt texted me pictures of Bella and Ash together though, so that was sweet.”

Michael smirked. “She asked me the strangest thing today,” he began. “She-”

He was cut off by a yell from down the hall. “Ready for red sauce!”

Y/N giggled. “Tell me after we put her to bed.” He nodded in response.

One delicious dinner, shower, pajama change, and teeth brushing later, it was 7:30, also known as bedtime for a certain little girl in your household.

“Alright sweetie, I'll come tuck you in, just give me one second to finish this up.” A wave of inspiration had struck him, and he wanted to get just a couple lines out as best he could.

“No, it's okay. Can Y/N do it?”

“Sure pumpkin,” she responded before Michael could. “C'mon lets get you to bed.” Ushering the child up the stairs, you winked at Michael over your shoulder, to which he responded with a smirk before turning back to his notebook.

Y/N faced the small shelf of books in the girl's bedroom. “What story tonight, Bells?”

“No story,” she says, quite decisively.

“No?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “You always have a story though.”

“Yeah, but that's daddy's thing. I don't wanna do it without him. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, baby, anything,” she assured.

“Are you gonna be my mommy?”

Y/N's face turned red. “Uhm, that's something your dad and I haven't talked about.”

“I did! He says he wants it a lot,” she told her, beaming.

“He and I will talk about it, Bell-Boo. You just gotta worry about getting some good sleep in you, okay?” She booped her nose, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Goodnight, Lovey. Sweet dreams,” whispered Y/N as she flipped the overhead switch, leaving only the nightlight on.

“Goodnight Y/N,” came the girl’s call back.

Y/N stood at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall. Bella's question rang out in her mind like a cry in the darkness.

Michael noticed the shift in her mood “What's wrong, love?”

Y/N hesitated. “You can tell me anything, baby, you know that,” he assured her.

“Bella asked if I would be her mom.”

Silence fell over the couple.

“What did you say?” Michael's voice was so quiet and cracked in the quiet of the evening.

“I told her we'd talk about it. What was I supposed to say? We've never really discussed that and, I don't know, she told me you wanted it too and--”

“She said that?” A smile snuck its way on Michael's face.

A red tint covered Y/N's features. “Yeah, she might've mentioned it.”

A deep, steadying breath, then, “Y/N, you know I love you. I know you love me too. Would it… would it be such an outrageous thought?”

“Michael--”

“I’d just need to get a ring, but ever since I met you, I’ve been happy. I wasn’t happy after… she died but you brought it back, and I knew when I saw you that she wanted me to move on and I did and fell in love again, with you, and you fell too, and you’ve basically helped me raise Bella for the past three years--”

“Michael.”

“--and she loves you too, and you love her like she’s your baby too, I can see it when you look at her, She could call you mom and I’d love it, and nothing would make me happier than if you let me call you mine for the rest of our lives. I love you like I only loved once before, and I want to marry you just as much. Please, honey, tell me I’m not crazy, tell me we can.”

“Michael, okay.”

“Of course you don-- wait what?”

“You want to get married?” He nodded. “Let’s do it. I love it, I love you, I love Bells, and I wouldn’t mind one but to be yours and for you to be mine for the rest of our lives. I know I can’t replace Crystal, I’m not trying to, I’d never dream of it, but I would love to have a chance to make half as much of an impact as she did. I’ll care for and love you both to the best of my ability. Baby, if you’re crazy for wanting to get married, then I must be positively insane because I want it too.”

“I love you, I love you so much.” He wrapped her in his embrace, right there at the foot of the steps.

“I love you too, baby. I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

“I promise I’ll get a ring,” he told her.

“I don’t need a ring.” He pulled away, opening his mouth in opposition. “I don’t. I just need you. You and Bells in my life. No fancy ring and official papers, just the two of you.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, the two of them breathing the same air, touching in such an innocent yet intimate way. “I’m still gonna get a ring for you,” he informed stubbornly.

She giggled, and the sound was like music to his ears. “If you insist,” she conceded. “Just promise me that you’ll let me love you and Bella for as long as possible, and I’ll let you get me a ring.”

“I promise baby, and I swear we’ll love you too.”

The couple sat in silence for a bit, bodies scrunched up to sit on the steps, hearts swollen in love and gratitude. Until Michael said, “So which of us is gonna go tell Bell she was right?”

The young woman groaned playfully. “She’s gonna hold this for years. ‘I knew you’d be my mom, I called it!’ I can hear her voice in my head, right now.”

“The joys of raising a child, I’m afraid.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing,” she mumbled.

“No? Then you can tell her in the morning, and I’ll deal with the relentless ‘I told you so’s.”

“Deal,” Y/N whispered, a soft smile gracing her features as she turned her face to Michael.

Michael’s expression mirrored her own as he sealed it with a quick press of his lips to hers.

“I love my little family,” he mumbled against her. And it was true. He would fight tooth and nail, to protect his girls, and he wouldn’t change it for anything.

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Making Up by Helena Hunting

Shacking Up #4

Cosy Felton is a college student working in an adult toy shop to make ends meet. When Griffin Mills stops by the store to buy a list of items for a bachelor party Cosy makes a less than fun shopping trip a lot less embarrassing. As Griffin is drawn to Cosy he returns later to ask her on a date...and though she says no they do eventually go out. For awhile the eleven year age difference seems it might be a stumbling block but not for long...nope...soon other things seem to pop up that cause problems. There are ups and downs in their relationship but throughout the story it is impossible NOT to see them together.

What I liked:

* Griffin: WONDERFUL book boyfriend!

* Cosy: a nice balance to Griffin and his soul mate

* The meet cute

* The way the two usually ended up talking things out rather than giving up

* The steamy scenes

* Griffin’s family

* Knowing how the characters were feeling and what they were thinking – first person dual points of view

* How it all worked out

What I did not like: * Imogen – Griffin’s Ex-fiance

* Armstrong – Griffin’s cousin

* The drama of the ups and downs though they did allow for a lot of making up

* All the comments about the age difference although there were times Cosy seemed younger than 22

Did I like this book? Yes

Will I read more in the series? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4.5 Stars

Synopsis:

A new standalone, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy by New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting.

Cosy Felton is great at her job—she knows just how to handle the awkwardness that comes with working at an adult toy store. So when the hottest guy she’s ever seen walks into the shop looking completely overwhelmed, she’s more than happy to turn on the charm and help him purchase all of the items on his list.

Griffin Mills is using his business trip in Las Vegas as a chance to escape the broken pieces of his life in New York City. The last thing he wants is to be put in charge of buying gag gifts for his friend’s bachelor party. Despite being totally out of his element, and mortified by the whole experience, Griffin is pleasantly surprised when he finds himself attracted to the sales girl that helped him.

As skeptical as Cosy may be of Griffin’s motivations, there’s something about him that intrigues her. But sometimes what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas and when real life gets in the way, all bets are off. Filled with hilariously awkward situations and enough sexual chemistry to power Sin City, Making Up is the next standalone in the Shacking Up world.

Excerpt

We’re a couple of minutes away from my apartment, which also means we’re almost at the end of our date. End-of-date protocol often means a goodnight kiss.

And I’ve eaten onions. Lots of them. What the hell was I thinking? I feel around in my shorts pocket, hoping I have a random stick of gum. I find a tiny square packet and pull it out, along with an old tissue. I shove that back in my pocket and sigh with relief as I carefully open the Listerine Pocketpak. There’s one strip left. I pop it in my mouth, wishing I had water since my mouth is dry and I’m suddenly super nervous.

Griffin pulls up in front of my apartment building. I swallow a bunch of times, trying to get the strip to dissolve on my tongue and glance out the tinted window, seeing it from his perspective. I don’t live in a bad part of town, but I sure as hell wouldn’t leave this car sitting out here for any length of time unless I wanted it keyed or stripped down.

Griffin shifts into park and turns to me, one hand resting on the back of my seat near the headrest. “I had a great time, Cosy.”

“Me too, thanks for dinner.” I tried to fork over my share, but he was quick on the credit card draw.

“It was my pleasure.” He leans in the tiniest bit, a nonverbal cue that he’s going in for a kiss.

I mirror the movement, giving him the go ahead. My stomach flutters in anticipation. I exhale slowly through my nose. Even though the Listerine strip should be doing its job to mask the onions, I don’t want to ruin the moment by breathing that in his face.

His fingertips skim my jaw, and I close my eyes. And then his lips brush my cheek. I wait for them to move a couple of inches to the right, but after what feels like a lot of seconds—and is probably only a few—I crack a lid.

Griffin is still close, a wry smile on his lips and a smolder in his eyes.

“Seriously, that’s it? A kiss on the cheek?”

His smile widens, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He’s nothing like the guys I usually end up on dates with. College boys don’t take things slow. If I were out with one of the guys from school, I’d be sitting in a beat-up Civic with some stupid music playing, and he’d be all over me with his tongue halfway down my throat, copping a feel.

“I thought all the onions you ate were the equivalent to garlic for vampires.” Griffin fingers my hair near my shoulder. I’d really like him to finger something else. Wait. I mean I’d like to feel his hands on me. Not in my pants. Okay, maybe I’d like them in my pants, but not after date number one.

“I wasn’t thinking, and I really like onions. A lot. In hindsight, it’s not a great date food. I feel kinda dumb. And I guess at first I wasn’t so sure about you. How was I supposed to know you’d actually be kind of normalish?”

“Normalish?”

“Well, you drink club soda on purpose, so you can’t be all there.” I tap his temple.

Griffin circles my wrist with his fingers and drops his head, lips brushing over my knuckle. “We can’t all be perfect, now, can we?”

“I suppose not, and perfect is boring.”

“That it is.” He hums against my skin, and I feel it through my entire body. “I would like to try that kiss again, if you’re still interested.”

Buy-Book Link: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250253378

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

Helena Hunting Blog Tour Q&A 

What inspired you to write Making Up?

I’d introduced Griffin in the previous Shacking Up Series novels, Shacking Up and Hooking Up—he was a bit of a mystery for readers because he was talked about, but not really present. I had a very clear picture in my mind of who he was, and the kind of woman who would end up being the perfect fit for him, and it was not his fiancé from the previous books.  

Introduce us to your main characters!

Griffin Mills is the oldest of the three Mills brothers. At thirty-three he’s had several very long term relationships and was formerly engaged, but that relationship went up in flames. He’s gorgeous, smart, loves the numbers side of the family business he’s part of—a chain of hotels he’s set to inherit with his brothers. Also, he’s a little awkward, which I love, because there’s nothing quite like a hot guy who doesn’t have all the lines and fumbles a bit when he’s dealing with someone he’s attracted to. It makes for some hilarious banter with his love interest, Cosy Felton. Our heroine is a twenty-two year old who has been a bit of a nomad for most of her life, but is finally finishing school and happens to work at an Adult Toy Store part time. It’s definitely not her favourite job, but it pays the bills. She’s sassy, not much of a planner and definitely more than Griffin bargained for.

Lots of aspiring authors out there. Any advice for them?

Just keep writing. Every day put words on the page and surround yourself with positive people who are there to support you. Ask questions, join book groups, be an avid reader and an observer.

How is Making Up different from your other books?

Making Up has a trope I’ve never really explored or played around with before, so it was a lot of fun to write. While I’ve written age gaps before, it hasn’t been a key part of the storyline, or had a significant impact on how the characters perceive the relationship. Griffin and Cosy are from two very different worlds and balancing their expectations and insecurities was one of my favourite parts of writing their story. Making Up has my signature quirky, sassy heroines and I love writing heroes that are sexy, yet a little awkward. While it’s a light read, there’s some drama, and some heavy baggage, which I think grounds the story and balances out the hilarity.

I know asking someone’s all-time favorite book is a loaded question so what’s your current favorite read?

I’ve been so lucky to read so many amazing books this year but I’m going to go with Broken Knight by LJ Shen which releases this August. I love YA/NA romance and angst, and she knows how to deliver both flawlessly.

Alright, the ultimate question: why should we read your book?

We all need a little escape from our own realities once in a while and Making Up is a fun, sexy romance that’s perfect for the summer. Also, Griffin is hot, and not particularly suave at times. I think we can all appreciate a guy who doesn’t have all the lines, especially if he looks like he should.

A famous movie producer wants to make your books into movies and they want you to cast your characters from Making Up. Which actors/actresses make the cut?

This is always a fun question and I’ll be 100% honest, I never actually look at actors prior to writing a story because I generally have a picture of the character in my head. But, I went on a Pinterest mission and Alex Morgan (she’s a soccer player, not an actress) would make a fabulous Cosy if she suddenly switched career paths. Hailee Steinfeld (Bumblebee) is super sassy, and could definitely play up the humor in this story, so she would be a legitimate actress choice. Gabriel Macht has a great smolder and can rock a seriously sexy suit, so I think he’d be great as Griffin.

Favorite quote or scene you wrote in Making Up?

Making Up is definitely a rom-com with some incredibly hilarious moments, but Griffin has some heavy baggage, which means there are also serious moments, and this is one of my favourites: “Talk to me. Fall apart on me. Show me your weakness so I can give you my strength.”

What inspired you to become a writer?

I’ve always loved to write, but finding time was a challenge during university and then afterward I was building a career and we renovated a house down to the studs—which takes up a lot of time and doesn’t leave much of an opportunity for putting down words (but it was an amazing experience). When I gave birth to my daughter she struggled to sleep—or rather stay asleep—and that meant I spent a lot of time awake in the middle of the night. So I started writing again during those late nights, and finally penned my first full novel.

What is a typical writing day like?

I usually start with a run and then copious amounts of coffee while I manage the administrative side of things—ie emails, social media posts etc. But when I sit down to write I have a playlist I put on repeat, more coffee, sparking water (so I can stay hydrated) and my cat Pumpkin generally lies on top of my closed laptop and supervises me for the day.

Do you have any interesting writing quirks or habits?

I listen to the same playlist while I write a novel. So if it takes me two months, then I listen to the same set of songs for two full months. I’ve destroyed A LOT of albums for my husband over the past several years. I just need the background noise, and listening to the radio or unfamiliar songs can be distracting.

What has been one of the most surprising things you’ve learned as a published author?

I’ve only been in the industry for five years and there has been so much change, learning to adjust and adapt and just staying true to your personal goal is really the most important thing I’ve learned. I think when you start out there are just so many unknowns, and taking risks can be scary, but if you don’t take those risks, it’s hard to grow as an author.

Can you tell us about what’s coming up next after this for you writing wise?

I have one more book in The Shacking Up Series, HANDLE WITH CARE, which releases at the end of August! Griffin’s cousin and best friend, Lincoln Moorehead, is the hero and if you didn’t know, he is also Armstrong’s brother. Lincoln is the polar opposite of Armstrong so it was so fun to write. I can’t wait for people to meet Griffin and Cosy and Lincoln and Wren.

How can readers connect with you online?

They can connect with me all over social media! (add links)

Website→  http://www.helenahunting.com/

Amazon → http://amzn.to/1y6OBB7

Twitter → http://bit.ly/HelenaHTwitter

Facebook → https://www.facebook.com/helena.hunting69/

Pinterest → http://bit.ly/1oQYRVN

Instagram → http://instagram.com/helenahunting Goodreads→ http://bit.ly/GoodReadsHH NEWSLETTER → http://bit.ly/HelenaHnewsletter

Bookbub → http://bit.ly/BookBubHH

Facebook Reader Group  → http://bit.ly/TheBeaverDenHH

[seventeen-scenarios-blog]

To Admin Hoshit: Santa’s Helper (G)

Pairing: Admin Hoshit x Soonyoung Request: “tbh write anything as long as it ends well and no one dies” + “longish fic?? if possible???” Word Count: 2,843 Genre: Crack Warnings: Don’t do drugs, kids

A/N: Lmao I had a lot of fun writing this for you. Sorry it took so long. But Merry Christmas Hoshit, hope you enjoy this piece of nonsense lolololol I think it’s pretty obvious who I am at this point tbh, but have fun guessing, lovelies!

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this anymore… I’m leaving you.”

“W-what? But we were doing fine all along! Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it anymore, okay? Look, it was really fun and exciting when we first started out, but right now, the feeling’s fizzed out. I’m hella tired of this. We have to go our separate ways from now on.”

“You can’t just leave me alone after all that we’ve been through together! There’s still so much we’ve not done!” You stand up, rage filling every vein of your body. “NAKAMOTO YUTA, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

“THIS IS SO NOT WORTH SIX DOLLARS AN HOUR!” The man snaps his head around towards you. He slams the roll of tape down on the table, throwing his hands towards the pile of neatly gift-wrapped boxes. “I’ve been at it for ages now, and I’m already considered a saint for staying back a whole hour past my shift to help you! Let me go home to rest, damn it!”

“We’ve agreed to sign up for this winter job together!” you yell back, “You can’t ditch me now!”

“You’re the dumb one who signed your entire life away to this job so that you can buy your dumb merchandise,” Yuta remarks snarkily, ignoring the offended scoff you send his way. “Anyway, I’m out. Girl, I love you, but there’s only so much gift-wrapping I can handle before I turn completely insane.”

“The moment you walk out of this gingerbread house, you’re dead to me, Nakamoto.”

“Been dead since Day 1, babe.” And Yuta leaves with a sassy final wave goodbye, whipping off his reindeer headband and tossing it into the bin. “Have fun dealing with the kids.”

You let out a resigned puff of air to blow your bangs out of your face. Your only friend on this job is gone, and now you have to spend the rest of your 10 hour shift with either a total stranger or… that guy.

You stand up, stumbling a little after being seated on a god-forsaken kiddy stool, and made your way towards the record sheet containing the names of the part-timers pinned on the wall. The way your name occupied a large area of the excel sheet made you wince.

It had sounded so easy on the advertising site: wear a silly costume, give out complimentary gifts to children that attend the Santa Meet-&-Greet event at the mall. You sold your soul to the devil without thinking twice. But no, this job has taken a significant chunk of your sanity. Between the Meet-&-Greet intervals, you had to wrap an endless pile of gifts for the endless number of children. On more than one occasion, you had to stay behind to hit your quota, returning home when it’s almost midnight.

But then again, with the exorbitant amount of albums and merchandise of your favourite band you have yet to get your hands on, overtime pay is good.

Your name was under the ‘Santa’s Helpers’ list; every ‘Santa’s Helper’ would be paired up with a ‘Reindeer’ for each shift. You had thought it was a lot less embarrassing walking around in public in an elf’s costume compared to a reindeer’s -- you thought wrong. It’s tight, it’s itchy, the ringing of the silver bell adorning the tip of your hat had annoyed you two hours into your first day you snipped it off without hesitation. All the “reindeers” had to do is wear a damn onesie with cute reindeer horn headbands to match.

Anyway.

Your eyes scan through the ‘Reindeer’ list for the partner you’d be tied down to for the rest of the day. Yuta’s name is aligned with yours up till 5PM, and the person underneath Yuta is… Kwon S-- Jesus Christ.

You tilt your head back with a sardonic, almost maniacal grin. Your day is just going splendidly, isn’t it?

“The kids will be coming in 10 minutes, please be on standby…” the manager’s voice trails off as she only registers one other presence in the gingerbread house. “Where’s the reindeer?”

“HERE!”

A breathless wheeze, followed by a series of thundering footsteps cause the both of you to jump as Devil’s Spawn himself bursts through the fragile styrofoam doors. “Sorry, there was a line at the washroom, I couldn’t change until just about a minute ago…”

Both you and your manager scanned the boy’s bedraggled appearance simultaneously: his purple hair was frizzled and stuck out in all directions imaginable, his cheeks are shining with a sheen of perspiration, and apparently he hadn’t learnt how to button his clothes properly as a child.

Your manager tuts and waves him away, “Elf, you have 10 minutes to make this reindeer remotely presentable to the public. I have other matters to attend to.” With that, she whisks herself out of sight.

Soonyoung tilts his head, confused, until he lays his eyes on you. Then, his already small eyes narrow into hostile slits. “Oh, hello brat.”

“Tool,” you retort cooly, stepping up to fix Soonyoung’s mismatched buttons. “I thought you’re supposed to be a reindeer, not the grandma that got run over by one.”

“Hohoho, you’re hilarious,” he drawls mockingly in a high tone, slapping your hands away. “I can fix those buttons myself, thanks. And pass me one of the headbands from the bin, I left mine at home.” Rolling your eyes in disbelief, you proceed to fish out Yuta’s abandoned reindeer headband and throw it to the male.

“It’s Yuta’s, so I’m not sure it’ll go over that fat head of yours. I reckon you give it a try.”

“Meanie,” he mutters, grabbing it and fastening it over his head.

“Album wrecker.”

“Salty brat!”

“Son of a--”

“Mommy, look! A reindeer and a gremlin!” You both instantaneously abandon your banter to slap grins on your faces as a chubby kid waddles into the gingerbread house. Looks like your evening shift started early. Soonyoung bursts into a fit of laughter at the boy’s words. You curl your hands into fists in chagrin, forcing yourself to maintain the smile.

“The last time I checked, reindeers. Can’t. Laugh.” You discreetly but painfully jab him in the ribs before approaching the child, ignoring the pained yelp he lets out in response. “You’re done meeting Santa, kid? I’m one of Santa’s elves and I live here in this gingerbread house! Can I interest you in a free toy from under the tree?”

Against all odds, you manage to upkeep your professionalism throughout your shift, though you can’t help but let out a crotchety remark or two.

“Don’t go too close to that reindeer over there,” you’d say, one hand cupping your mouth while the other made pointed gestures over to Soonyoung, “I heard it eats children for breakfast.” Looking back, you wished you reserved that comment for someone more impressionable. The bespectacled twelve-year-old had stared back at you with an eyebrow raised, completely unimpressed.

Completely spent, you abandon your uncomfortable post on the kiddy stool to crashland on the carpeted floor with a satisfied groan. That’s 11 out of 12 days of Christmas down. Only one more day in this stinking job and you’re free for the rest of the holidays.

“God…” Soonyoung sighs, shedding off his thick reindeer onesie to reveal a white tank top that has been turned translucent with his sweat. “If I had to sing Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer one more damn time, I would have ran myself over with a sleigh.”

Normally this would result in a comment about him being weak from you, but this time, you are distracted by how his muscles stand out from under the thin material of his clothes. As insufferable as this guy can be, he sure does know how to have a good body-- wait, snap out of it, damn it!

“Oh, good! You are still here!” a sing-song voice cuts through your unholy thoughts as your manager enters the gingerbread house with paper bags lined with grease. “I got the both of you dinner. It’s a job well done today as usual!”

Both you and Soonyoung exchange suspicious glances. Free food and a chirpy attitude to boot? Those are two things you’d never associate with your boss.

“What do you want us to do?” Thankfully, Soonyoung lacked the tact and asked the question you were afraid of. At once, your manager drops her cheery facade with a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid I’ll have to buy a couple more hours of your time… See, an orphanage just called in to say that they will be dropping their kids down tomorrow at 8AM to visit Santa so that’s a hundred children’s worth of gifts to wrap and prepare by then…”

“A HUNDRED?!”

“But you don’t mind, do you?” She blinks sweetly at your direction. “I know this is last minute, but I’m sure the overtime pay will be enough to cover the costs of your guinea pig’s operation, right? That’s what you mentioned during our job interview?”

Behind you, Soonyoung can barely retain his snort of disbelief. “Guinea pig, huh? Is that what they call K-pop albums nowadays?” he guffaws just loud enough for you to hear, and you reward him with a merciless stomp on his big toe while never letting go of that faux angelic smile of yours.

“Sure, ma'am… But uh, my overtime pay will still be one-and-a-half times that of my average, right?”

“But of course! And you’ll have Reindeer over here to help you, so I’m sure you’d be done in no time!”

“I’ll be what now?” Soonyoung gapes dumbly.

“Great, I knew that I can count on you two! See you tomorrow~!” she merrily waves in farewell, making way for two toy store clerks lugging sacks-full of toys. The thin material of the sack rips, and a mountain of toys barrel out, leaving you and Soonyoung stunned.

But in retrospect, the sack is still holding on better compared to your little tether of sanity.

Soonyoung exasperatedly rubs his nape, carefully dragging the sack towards your work table. “Well, let’s just get this over and done with.”

He reaches over to the roll of wrapping paper, but stops short with a jump when you slam your hands atop of his. “Nuh-uh, there’s absolutely no way I’m trusting you with these.”

“What? Why not?”

“You’re going to ruin them with your sub-par fine motor skills and subsequently crush the dreams of a hundred little kids.” You let out a feral hiss, scrabbling at the wrapping papers, scissors and tape towards your bosom protectively. Soonyoung looks beyond peeved.

“I will not!” he cries. “My fine motor skills are, as they call it, FINE!”

He hazards an attempt to slide a pair of scissors out from under your arm, but you lunge out, snapping your teeth at his fingers and he withdraws, visibly intimidated. “What’s wrong with you, woman?” he yelps, obviously offended.

“YOU STEPPED ON MY ALBUM AND TORE IT WITH YOUR STINKING FEET FIRST DAY ON THE FIRST DAY WE MET, AND TRIED FIXING IT WITH POORLY CUT DUCT TAPE. THAT’S WHAT’S WRONG!” you screech. “HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE ALL CHUMMY WITH YOU AFTER THAT?! HOW DO PEOPLE TRUST YOU TO GO OUTSIDE UNSUPERVISED, YOU MONSTER?!”

“Look, that was just that one time!” he cries in defense, ignoring a woman’s concerned glance into the gingerbread house. “And don’t you have like, twenty of the same damn album? If I’d known you’d still be this hung up about it after 2 months I could have just bought you a new one!”

“How dare you, every single one of my albums are unique and precious and--” your eyes snap wide open when you register his previous words. “Did you say you’d buy me a new album?”

To your surprise and delight, Soonyoung shrugs. “I mean why not, these things can’t be that expensive, right?”

You beg to differ, but then you consider the fact that Soonyoung (lord knows how) is a lot more well off than you are as a freelance dancer. You abandon the lingering doubt to slap on what you hope is a face of a pleading puppy dog at the purple-haired male.

He audibly blanches. “Alright, let’s get to work now, can we? Good thing there isn’t anything in my stomach to hurl out, yeesh...” He tries once again to snatch the pair of scissors from your possession, but the icy glare you shoot at him makes his actions falter.

“You’re still hopeless at crafts, by the way,” you inform him, the image of your ruined album, hastily patched together with silver strips of adhesive with dog-eared pages here and there, surfacing in your mind. You can’t help but laugh at that ridiculous scenario. “Duct tape, really?”

“Oh shush, I panicked. At least let me feed you while you wrap, okay?”

You both reached an efficient compromise whereby you handle the wrapping while ever so often opening your mouth such that Soonyoung could slip a french fry between your lips, him munching on his own burger as well.

“Eat!” Soonyoung snaps when you refused the tenth fry. He’s realised by now that you had an awful habit of not eating whenever you’re too absorbed in something. “How are you going to wrap the presents for the kids well on an empty stomach?”

“Who cares about the kids,” you drone, your words coming out as more of a statement than a question.

Letting out a puff of air at his dark violet fringe, Soonyoung tries again. “How are you going to get your paycheck to buy more merchandise if you’re working on an empty stomach?”

“Ah,” you part your jaws and Soonyoung feeds you again with a resigned sigh. “Who knew you’d be this whipped for your favourite artiste?”

“Who didn’t?” you point out, throwing aside the finished toy car with reckless abandon.

“Yuta was complaining the other day that you barely have the time to hang out with him because you’ve chained yourself to this job. And for what, money for more merchandise and concert tickets?”

You hear the incredulity in his voice and you purse your lips. “Look, think whatever you want, but they make me happy. This world sucks and their music is a form of escapism for me. I’ll be willing to work day and night for the boys that make my life just that much brighter. Like it or not, they will pretty much occupy the majority of the space in my heart.”

You both fall silent while you catch your breath from that revelation. From the corner of your eye, you see Soonyoung shifting his eyes nervously. “Then… is there at least space for one more person in your life?”

The scissors in your hand slip and clatter onto the table noisily.

“I mean--” Soonyoung stutters, knowing how his words must have sounded like. “I want to make it up to you, you know. We started off on a bad note because of me, and I’d like it if we can have a do-over. Let’s go out for lunch or dinner sometime after this stinking job ends.”

Surprisingly, that sounded good to you, but there’s no way you’re letting him get the impression that you’re warming up to him this quickly. “Fine, I’ll see if I can squeeze you in.”

“Great!” His eyes, already tiny like the that of a hamster’s, light up like a child’s on a Christmas morning. “We’ll head on out for dinner after our shift tomorrow, then we’ll head on to the shop to get your new album, sounds good?”

Dammit, I like this kid already.

You nod, and you both resume work. At some point, you turned on your Spotify playlist to let Soonyoung get to know the kind of music you’re listening to, and he actually enjoys them. In return, he lets you listen to his favourite bands and musicians.

You even let him try his hand at wrapping a relatively simple box-shaped gift, only to grab it back in utter horror when he sticks the wrapping paper inside out.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going at it, but Soonyoung stiffens in fear when you both hear a resounding metallic click from a few metres away.

“W-was that the mall custodian locking up?” he whimpers, but he turns befuddled when he sees you looking completely nonchalant.

“Yeah, the mall closes at eleven, the doors will open again at seven in the morning.”

At this point, Soonyoung can’t even begin to feel surprise anymore. “How many times have you been locked in here because of work?”

“Eh, thrice counting this.”

“God, you’re hopeless.”

“But this means we’ll be first in line to grab some drinks at Starbucks tomorrow. We can have our date then. You in, kid?”

And Soonyoung actually laughs, whether it is out of amusement or of sheer despair, you can’t really tell.

“Oh geez, what have I gotten myself into…”

[curliesallovertheplace]

Can I Buy You A Book?

Pairing: Sam x reader, college!AU

Summary: People buy drinks for men/women in bars. Why can’t people do the same thing with books in bookstores?

Words: 900ish

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: This is based on a picture I saw on facebook once and it just stuck with me. So here it is: some good old fluff! Hope y’all enjoy :) 

The bell rang as you opened the door, the high melody sounding familiar and welcoming to you. “Hey Will,” you greeted the owner of the book store.

“Hello, Y/N! Back again I see,” the man grinned, stepping from behind his counter to give you a quick hug. “New books are over there, but you already know that section like the back of your hand.” You nodded in approval, curious to see the new arrivals. A book cover at the other end of the room caught your eye almost instantly. “Also, that hot guy is back again. He comes in quite often recently.”

Your eyes widened slightly while your body stiffened at the thought of him being here. “And you tell me this why?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. Will snickered and shook his head.

“The myth section,” he winked as he stepped back without another word. You rolled your eyes at your friend, strolling towards the back of the bookstore. As you passed the myth corner, you glanced in the direction of the aisles and your eyes landed on him. Sam Winchester. Tall, dark and handsome. Everything to make a girl weak in the knees. You quickly scurried away when he looked back at you and gave you a polite smile.

The section of new books was your favorite place in the world. So many stories to discover, so many characters waiting to come alive inside your mind, so many possibilities just waiting for you to grab from the shelves. Unfortunately college is expensive and so are books. You had a jar in your dorm, filled with pennies and change, solemnly for buying books, but you had plundered the little bank last week to buy the latest book from your favorite author.

On display was the last novel by Chuck Shurley. You had heard about his series ‘Unnatural’, but never purchased or read the first part of it. Next to it was a book by an author named Metatron, the cover displaying an angel falling from the sky.

“Anything you like?” a deep voice asked from behind you. That wasn’t Will.

You turned around, staring up at the tall frame in front of you. “Uh-N-no, yes, I don’t know,” you rambled, tripping over your words. Sam probably thought you were an idiot that couldn’t even handle a basic conversation and properly articulate. After a deep breath you managed to utter out: “I’m still looking.”

He nodded his head, adjusting the books he was holding in his arms. “This seems like a nice book. I like the cover,” he smiled as he pointed at a simplistic paperback, the cover all white except for the black title and a couple of black birds flying.

“Don’t you want to read the back of the book first? You can’t judge a book by it’s cover,” you grinned. Where you got the confidence from, you had no clue, but Sam seemed to enjoy the banter. He smiled as he shook his head slightly, his long locks falling in his eyes.

You picked up the book he pointed to and let your eyes skim over the summary. The more you read, to more intrigued you got with the story. A victorious grin adorned Sam’s face when you looked up from the back cover, your lips curved in a smile.

“Not bad huh?” he chuckled.

“The story is very captivating,” you agreed with him. “I’m definitely putting this book on my to-read-list.”

With a simple nod the young man took over the novel. “It’s settled then,” he smiled and started walking over to Will.

“What’s settled?” you frowned, not following where this was going.

Sam placed the book on the counter as he turned towards you. “Well, guys buy drinks for women in bars if they are interested in them. I thought, why not change it up?”

“Meaning?” you continued asking. Will was scanning the novel’s barcode, the little display of the cash register showing the price.

“Can I buy you a book?” Sam simply responded. “I’m interested in you and we are in a bookstore, not a bar so… can I buy you a book instead of a drink?”

Your cheeks turned crimson at his confession. You stuttered out a ‘yes’ before you gained your composure. “Yes,” you said more confidently. “I would love that. Thank you.”

The young man placed his other books on the counter as well and scribbled something on a little piece of paper the owner had handed to him. Will scanned those books as well, putting them in a plastic bag. Sam quickly payed and together the two of you stepped outside the bookstore.

“I’m Sam by the way,” he smiled as he extended the book to you.

“Y/N,” you uttered. You let your hand slip around the paper cover, taking the novel out of his hand.  

“I’ll see you around campus.” With those words the young man gave you one last smile before mixing in with the other students strolling around campus. You bit your lip, trying to hide a grin as your hands wrapped around the novel you were holding. You opened up the first page, ready to start reading this story. 

A small piece of paper slipped from between the pages and landed right in front of your feet. Curious you picked it up, turning it around. A few numbers and several words were scribbled on the note. Three simple words, yet your heart was pounding in your chest.

‘Call me, Sam ;)’

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Others

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[books-n-wine]

~**~ Excerpt Tour for Twisted Twosome by Meghan Quinn ~**~

We're celebrating the release of  TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn! Check out the excerpt below!

TWISTED TWOSOME

NA Romantic Comedy

 Purchase: http://hyperurl.co/99udeh

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2uarCWF

From the first day I met Racer McKay, I knew our interaction was going to be incredibly brief. First impressions really do matter and unfortunately, I didn’t make a very good one.At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I was never going to see this man again, right? Wrong! When I’m met with the opportunity of a lifetime, there is only one man in the state of New York who can assist me. And can you guess who it is? But what I don’t realize is he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he holds the key to making my dreams come true. So, we reluctantly join forces.Our pranks turn from sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull. I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that rests between love and hate.*Twisted Twosome is a stand alone romantic comedy.

“Thanks for lunch, I haven’t had a fine peanut butter and jelly sandwich in quite some time.” Racer takes a giant bite from one of three sandwiches I made him. The man can eat; I just want to know where he puts it all. “What is this, crunchy peanut butter?” He looks over the sandwich, studying it intently. 

“Yes, it’s crunchy with mixed berry jam.”

He nods and takes another bite. He talks with his mouth full, which for some weird reason makes him oddly adorable. “Nice touch, George. The peanuts add a nice texture.”

“Are you going all food critic on my PB and J skills right now?”

Lifting his shirt, he dabs away some of the sweat that’s collecting on his forehead, beneath his backward hat. His abs flex with the movement, drawing my attention. Each divot calling out to me to touch, to examine . . . to lick. 

“I think every human should be judged on their PB and J skills.”

I pull my eyes away from his stomach just in time not to get caught staring. “Why do you think that?”

“Because,” he takes another bite, “I think building a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is in everyone’s repertoire, but only the truly skilled know how to make a proper one. And I want to be friends with the truly skilled.”

“Is that so?” I take a drink of my green tea and study him for a second, watching the way the muscles in his jaw move with each bite and swallow. It’s sexy. 

His neck is sexy? Is that possible? 

“So where do I land on your scale of sandwich artists?”

He smiles from my term, and I realize how much I adore his boyish charm. Pulling his eyes away from me, he examines one of the sandwiches I made him and starts assessing it. “Good ratio of peanut butter to jelly. Nice choice in bread. The crunch you added has been a pleasant surprise, and the mixed berry jam is fucking delightful.” I giggle from his girly term. “But . . .” 

I perk up; there’s a but? “But what?”

He quirks his mouth to the side, almost to say, “Sorry, but you’re not quite perfect.” “The bread, it should have been toasted. Toasting it would have taken you to boss level when it comes to the PB and J.”

“Toasting it?”

He nods and takes another bite. “When you don’t toast a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the peanut butter and bread form a paste on the roof of your mouth. Even though it tastes good, it can get quite irritating.”

“But I didn’t have a toaster.”

“Rookie mistake.”

“Well, If I knew I was going to be critiqued, I would have sprung for bacon.”

He pauses mid bite and stares at me over his sandwich. “You’re a beast for bringing up the option.”

I polish off the rest of my sandwich and wipe my fingers. “Well, maybe next time you’ll communicate expectations better. I’m not a mind reader, Racer. Frankly, the fact I didn’t make boss level is on you, not me.”

I stand and gather my trash as he stares me down. “Don’t you turn this on me. You didn’t have a toaster. The toaster is what’s key. This is on you, Georgie. This is on you!” he calls out as I make my way to the back, laughing to myself the entire time. 

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter | Instagram

[books-n-wine]

~**~ Cover Reveal for TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn ~**~

Check out the amazing cover for TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn!

TWISTED TWOSOME

NA Romantic Comedy Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2uarCWF

Racer McKay is a broody bastard.

From the moment I met him, he’s been rude, irritable, and unbearable. 

A contractor working to remodel my parents pool house for extra cash, he stomps around in those clunky construction boots with his tool belt wrapped around his narrow waist, and a chip on his shoulder.

Racer McKay is also infuriatingly . . . sexy as hell. I want to take that pencil tucked behind his ear, and draw lazy lines slowly up and down his body all the while wanting to strangle him at the same time.

We try to stay out of each other’s way . . . that is until I have no other option but to ask for his help.

But what I don’t realize is he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he holds the key to making my dreams come true.

Our pranks turn from sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull. I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that rests between love and hate.

*Twisted Twosome is a stand alone romantic comedy.

About the Author:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

[momscookingthebooks]

Check out this teaser for TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn!

TWISTED TWOSOME

New Adult Romantic Comedy

Racer McKay is a broody bastard.

From the moment I met him, he’s been rude, irritable, and unbearable. 

A contractor working to remodel my parents pool house for extra cash, he stomps around in those clunky construction boots with his tool belt wrapped around his narrow waist, and a chip on his shoulder.

Racer McKay is also infuriatingly . . . sexy as hell. I want to take that pencil tucked behind his ear, and draw lazy lines slowly up and down his body all the while wanting to strangle him at the same time.

We try to stay out of each other’s way . . . that is until I have no other option but to ask for his help.

But what I don’t realize is he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he holds the key to making my dreams come true.

Our pranks turn from sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull. I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that rests between love and hate.

*Twisted Twosome is a standalone romantic comedy.

About the Author:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four-legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

[books-n-wine]

~**~ Teaser Blast for Twisted Twosome by Meghan Quinn ~**~

Check out the very first teaser for TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn!

TWISTED TWOSOME

NA Romantic Comedy

Racer McKay is a broody bastard.

From the moment I met him, he’s been rude, irritable, and unbearable. 

A contractor working to remodel my parents pool house for extra cash, he stomps around in those clunky construction boots with his tool belt wrapped around his narrow waist, and a chip on his shoulder.

Racer McKay is also infuriatingly . . . sexy as hell. I want to take that pencil tucked behind his ear, and draw lazy lines slowly up and down his body all the while wanting to strangle him at the same time.

We try to stay out of each other’s way . . . that is until I have no other option but to ask for his help.

But what I don’t realize is he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he holds the key to making my dreams come true.

Our pranks turn from sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull. I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that rests between love and hate.

*Twisted Twosome is a stand alone romantic comedy.

About the Author:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/