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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years ago

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Christmas Market

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of divorce, single father, friends to lovers, mutual pining, sexual desire, cursing.

A/N: part of @toomanystoriessolittletime December writing challenge. Totally not being posted on the correct day but 🤷‍♀️✌️

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Sophia was running around the back garden, a delighted squeal escaping her lips as Benny chased her. “I’m gonna get ya Bug,” he says as he sneaks up behind her, lifting her into the air.

Her giggle is contagious as you and the rest of the guys burst into laughter. “No, please uncle Benny. Don’t tickle me.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll let you go on one condition. You give your old uncle Benny a kiss on the cheek.” He smiles brightly down at her in his arms and she nods her little head before placing a kiss on his cheek. He gently lets her go, making sure she’s steady on her feet before taking his seat beside you again.

“Where’s Fish?” He asks as he takes a swig of his beer. “He went inside to take a call. I think it’s Maria. He didn’t look too happy,” you say as you try to catch a glimpse of him through the patio doors.

“Bet she’s cancelling again,” Santi says, anger evident in his tone as he watches Sophia play with her dolls. You felt sorry for her. Maria had given up her custody leaving Frankie to raise Sophia on his own and any time she was due to take her for any amount of time, she cancelled.

“Fuck,” Frankie huffs as he emerges from the house, his gaze set on his daughter. He lifted his cap off his head and ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “She’s gone and done it again. Why does she always do this?” He asks as he turns his gaze towards you.

Santi mumbles something in Spanish before downing his beer and standing. “Forget her, Fish. She doesn’t deserve that beautiful little girl.” He claps Frankie on the shoulder before making his way towards Sophia.

Frankie sighs again as he watches his best friend and his daughter play with dolls. He startles as you wrap your arms around him from behind before placing his hand atop yours and squeezing it gently.

“It’s gonna be ok, Frankie.” You say softly into the curve of his back, the smell of him filling your senses. You’ve always loved the smell of him. Cedarwood, motor oil and something that was distinctly Frankie. He smelled like home, not that you’d ever say that out loud.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just Maria was supposed to take her to the Christmas market to meet Santa. She’s gonna be so disappointed. How am I supposed to tell her that her mom has bailed yet again,” he says defeatedly.

Unwrapping your arms from around him you look to Will and Benny for help but they just shrug their shoulders and tilt their heads towards Frankie. Thanks, you mouth as you roll your eyes.

“How about I take her instead,” you say slightly nervously as you wait for Frankie to answer. His eyes drift from his daughter to you and they search your face for any sign of hesitation. “You’d do that,” he asks incredulously as he steps a little closer.

“Of course,” you say with a nod of your head. “She’s like a daughter to me. I know I’m not her mom but I love her and if she’s ok with it, I’d love to take her.” Frankie doesn’t say anything at first and you become worried you’ve crossed a line somehow but then he pulls you into him and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He pulls away slightly and stares into your eyes and you think you see something akin to adoration flash through them. “Oh…I’m not…thanks,” you say quietly. You can feel your skin heat under his gaze and for a moment you swear he leans in closer but the clearing of a throat pulls him away.

“I’ll just…I’ll…yeah,” you stammer as you move away and walk towards Sophia and Santi. You can feel his gaze on you as you walk away and you can feel your skin heat from the inside out.

***

“When are you gonna tell her, man?” Benny asks as he watches Frankie gaze longingly after you.

He can feel his face heat and he clears his throat before shifting nervously and turning to his friends. “What…” he stammers out. “What are you on about?”

Benny and Will share a knowing look before smiling at him. “Come on Fish,” Will says as he slowly approaches him, resting his hand on his shoulder. “It’s clear as day you’re in love Y/N. Heck, she’s not very subtle either. How you two haven’t already got together is beyond us.”

“I’m not…. I don’t….wait..Y/N loves me?” Frankie asks, stunned, his eyes shifting from Will to Benny.

“You really haven’t noticed?” Benny asks as he lets his gaze wander to where you are. Frankie lifts his hat off his head again and runs his finger through his hair. Shit. Did you love him? How many fucking years has he wasted on other women when he could’ve just been with you?

“Maybe you should go with her and Sophia to the Christmas market. Use it as an opportunity to see how she really feels and maybe, ya know, finally grow a pair and tell her you’re hopelessly in love with her.” Frankie goes to smack Benny but he’s already run off laughing.

Will squeezes Frankie's shoulder and winks, “for once my baby brother ain’t wrong. Can’t hurt to try right?” With that, he joins the others leaving Frankie to think over what they’d just said.

He ran his hand down along his face and sighed. He was either gonna finally have you as more than a friend for the rest of his life or ruin the best thing to ever happen to him.

***

Sophia didn’t seem to be too concerned about the fact that her mother couldn’t bring her to the market. Especially when Frankie told her you would bring her instead. She was delighted and let out a little shriek when she ran at you, wrapping her small arms around your neck.

“Can I get a hot chocolate? With marshmallows and cream?” She asked, a huge smile lighting up her face.

You moved a loose strand of hair from her face and smiled softly at her. “You sure can, sweetie. I’ll even let you have some of that delicious salted popcorn they make fresh but don’t tell your daddy.”

She looks from you to Frankie - who's standing with his shoulder leaning against the doorframe, legs crossed and a huge smile on his face - with a cheeky smile before moving her fingers along her lips. “My mouth is sealed,” she whispered as she rushed off to get ready for bed.

“She is not sleeping tonight,” you say as you try to push up off the floor. Frankie rushes over to help, reaching out his hand to pull you up and once you’re steady he moves his hand, unconsciously, to rest on your waist.

The proximity has your heart beating faster and you feel a heat pooling between your thighs with the way he's looking at you. His eyes hold your gaze, only flickering briefly to your lips before he clears his throat and pulls away.

“I was….I was thinking, would you mind if I tagged along tomorrow? I don’t normally go with her when it’s Maria but she’s not taking her so….I mean it’s you….I…” he stammers and you smile at his awkwardness before you place your finger on his lips, effectively making him stop.

His eyes widened at the action. “Of course, you can come, Frankie. It’ll be fun with just us. The three musketeers.” He gulps loudly as you pull your finger away and you think you see a tinge of pink in his cheeks.

“Right,” you say with a clap of your hand gently on his chest, “I better get going. Will I come over here or are you two gonna pick me up?”

Frankie shakes himself from his thoughts and turns to you as you make your way towards the front door. “We’ll come to pick you up. Say around 9. Sound good?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be up and ready. Tell Miss Sophia not to eat too much for breakfast or she’ll be too full for all the treats.” With a quick wave, you hop in your car and pull out of the drive.

Frankie stands watching as you drive down the street and around the corner, out of sight. God how he wishes you were Sophia’s mom. You’re more a mother to her than Maria. Maybe someday, he thinks as he turns and closes the door behind him.

***

When you hop into his truck the next morning, Frankie hands you a steaming cup of coffee from your favourite cafe in town. “Oh. My. God. I love you,” you say as you take a sip. “Hmm, that’s so good,” you moan, resting your head back against the headrest. “Just what I needed.”

Frankie is sitting staring at your mouth, still thinking about the moan that just slipped past your plush lips. His cock stirs to life beneath his jeans as his mind wanders, thinking of other ways to make you moan like that.

“Can we go now, daddy?” Sophia asks from the back seat bringing him back to reality. With a clear of his throat, he turns his gaze back to the window as he starts the engine. “Sorry Mija, ready to go?” He glances over his shoulder at his daughter.

“Yeah, let’s go. I can’t wait to meet Santa,” she squeals. Frankie smiles at his daughter before glancing over at you to find your gaze already on him. His skin heats under your intense gaze and he adjusts himself, hoping you can’t see the effect you're having on him.

“Got your list ready for him, Soph?” You ask her as you look back at her over your shoulder. She nods her head, “yeah, but there’s only one thing I want for Christmas this year.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Frankie asks, looking at her through the rearview mirror. “Can’t say. I gotta tell Santa first.”

Frankie catches your gaze and you shrug your shoulders with a smile. He knows what he wants for Christmas: she’s sitting across from him.

***

The market was bustling, crowds of people milling about the stalls that littered the park. There was a little of everything there from homemade treats, and beers to beautiful wooden toys.

Sophia’s excitement was uncontrollable as she went from one stall to the next, tasting sweets and wanting to buy presents for her uncles and her Abuela. You had already helped her with a present for Frankie - a new cap.

“Mi princesa, you need to slow down. We have all day,” Frankie laughed as his gaze drifted over to you.

“I love it, daddy. Thank you Y/N for bringing me today.” Sophia jumps into your arms and you hug her tight. “You don’t have to thank me, sweetie. I’m happy to take you. Now, wanna go see Santa and then get some of that delicious hot chocolate I promised?” You suggested before looking up at Frankie.

He’s staring down at you with a smile on his face and adoration in his eyes. He can’t believe how good you are with Sophia. He knows you’re gonna be a great mom one day. He only hopes that he’s the father.

“Come on, let’s go,” Frankie says, reaching out his hand for Sophia but you grab it instead, shocking him. His eyes drift to where your fingers are laced with his and after a moment he meets your gaze and smiles before leading you both to Santa’s grotto.

***

You and Frankie stand aside watching as Sophia whispers into Santa’s ear. She refused to tell you both what she was asking for and Frankie was getting antsy about it. “I need her to tell me what she wants, otherwise how am I supposed to get it for her,” he whispers as he bites his nails.

You smack his hand down away from his mouth, eyes lingering on his lips for a moment before meeting his gaze. “She’ll tell us, so stop worrying.”

“Excuse me, but do you and your wife want to hop into a picture with your daughter,” the lady dressed as an elf asks and you go to correct her but then Frankie wraps his arm around your waist.

“We’d love to,” Frankie says with a smile as he guides you along, his hand resting on your lower back. “Ok Everyone, say Merry Christmas.”

Your heart is fluttering wildly against your ribcage as the elf takes the picture, Frankie’s hand still resting on your back as you both stand behind Santa. The only thought running through your head was how good it felt to be called his wife.

***

“Can I have more marshmallows please?” Sophia asks, flashing her puppy dog eyes at Frankie. With a shake of his head and a smile on his face, he gives her permission to go up and ask the vendor for some.

“Thank you, for today. It means the world to me that you’re always there for her. For us,” Frankie whispered, his hand coming to rest atop yours.

Your heart beats frantically again and you swallow the hot chocolate before placing your cup on the table. “You don’t need to thank me, Frankie. I love spending time with her, with you. I’m always happy to help.”

You smile softly at him and he can’t help how his heart beats fast as you look him in the eyes. He thinks maybe Benny was right. Maybe you do like him. Only one way to find out.

“I was wondering, would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?” Frankie asks nervously, his thumb rubbing a circle into the skin on the back of your hand.

“Sure but what about Sophia? Who’s gonna mind her? Oh maybe she could come too, we can take her to that diner a town over, you remember the one ....”

Frankie’s face is turning red and he moves his hand away from yours as he pulls off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair, avoiding eye contact. He clears his throat, “I was actually….uh…well I…” he stammers.

You stare at him and realisation dawns on you. Is he asking you out?

“Frankie, are you asking me on a date?” You ask and wait with bated breath as he fixes his cap back on his head. “Yeah I am but only if you want to. I lo…I like you, really like you and I want to see where it goes but I also don’t want to lose you so if you don’t feel the same then just forget I said anything.”

He takes another sip of hot chocolate and lets his gaze drift to where Sophia is standing in line and when you place your hand on his thigh he almost chokes on the drink.

“I thought you’d never ask. I’d love to go on a date with you Frankie but I don’t just like you, I love you.” You whisper as you worry your bottom lip, hoping you haven’t freaked him out.

He releases a sigh of relief and reaches his hand out to caress your cheek. “Thank god, because I love you too. Always have. Can I…is it ok if I kiss you?” He asks, voice low and soft and when you nod your head he leans in and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

God, he loves the way you taste. That hint of chocolate and mint and he can feel himself harden in his jeans as he licks along the seam of your bottom lip. He wants nothing more than to take you home to his bed and show you how much he loves you. How much he craves you, but the sound of his daughter shrieking pulls you both apart.

“Yeah. He answered my wish,” Sophia shouts excitedly as she runs towards you. Frankie looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question but you just smile back at him.

“What exactly did you ask Santa for, Mija?” Frankie asks as stares down at his daughter.

“I asked him to make you two love each other and it worked. Does this mean Y/N is gonna be my mommy now?” She asks her little face alight with happiness as he looks between you both.

Frankie coughs and you can’t help but giggle at his reaction. “Well how about me and your daddy take it one day at a time, yeah. Besides, your daddy has to ask me to marry him first.”

She turns her gaze to Frankie, “ask her daddy, please,” she begs.

“Uh,” he stammers before he clears his throat, “at least let me take Y/N on a date first, ok Mija?”

“Ok.” She quickly drops the subject and dives into her small plastic cup of marshmallows completely oblivious to the awkwardness she just unleashed.

“I’d say yes, ya know.” You whisper into Frankie’s ear as he turns to face you, his cheeks tinged pink. “If you asked.”

“Umm, good to know baby.” He smiles at you before leaning in and kissing you softly on the lips. “I wonder if he will give me the other thing I asked for,” Sophia says as she lifts her cup of hot chocolate.

“What else did you ask for, Mija?” Frankie asks as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“A baby brother or sister.”

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #frankie x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #stephsdecemberwritingchallenge

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catcze · 2 years ago

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⠀ [ ᝰ ] Easy

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

!!⠀Feat : Kazuha x GN! Reader

!!⠀## : Fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining (but sped up bc I can’t write much with my nails lmao), confessions, affection, saying ‘I love you’ for the first time 👀

Okay I just got new claws so typing is like actually hard rn, and it’s been a long while since I used my writing brain, but yk what it’s Kazuha day today, so I wish all of u who are pulling for him (or Klee or Heizou!) a very merry successful wishing sesh !!

Also I’m still on writer’s + socializing burnout so 😀✌️ im ghosting again after this <3 teehee

also its like 3 am rn if i messed up smthn send me an ask pls and ill fix it when im more coherent akjsnd

You don’t think there is anything in this world that could have prepared you for Kaedehara Kazuha.

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that the quiet yet oh-so-charming sailor for Inazuma could have had such an impact on you. With his quiet smiles and melodious voice, and the way he had let his gaze linger on you when you had first been introduced. When he came aboard the ship, you had thought that you two could get along, certainly, but it hadn’t crossed your mind that the two of you would click so well, like two puzzle pieces that just meshed against each other as if it were natural.

And yet Kazuha had been one of your fastest friends— quite easily growing to become your closest aboard the Alcor, all within the year he had spent since coming from Inazuma.

He came into your life, prancing in and quickly making a space for himself. As your friend, as your sparring partner. As the person who stayed up beside you quite late into the evening when you couldn’t sleep, huddling beside you until the sun broke over the horizon. As the person who willingly listened to you talk about anything and everything under the sun, lending you an ear and always looking at you with something indiscernible in his gaze. Kazuha was easy to fit into your life— and equally as easy to fall for.

“You seem to be rather focused on something,” Kazuha says, nudging your shoulder with his, bringing you out of your reverie. An inquisitive look on his face greets you, lips upturned in a curious smile. “Care to share?”

You hastily try to compose yourself, messily shelving all your thoughts of attraction as best as you could, and hoping that you can shrug it off. Falling back into the easy routine, you nudge him in return, blowing him a raspberry when he gives you a playfully offended look. This late (or was it early?), no one else is on the deck to hear the way you laugh.

“Not much just… thinking of you, I guess,” is what you manage when your amusement fizzles out, a more subdued smile taking its place.

“Of... me?”

Your mind hadn’t fully caught up to the new topic of the conversation, or the proverbial minefield it had become. You hum, letting your eyes wander back to the ocean. You’re enraptured by the dark blue of the sky, the twinkle of the stars above, and the floating isle of Celestia in the distance. Towards the horizon, dawn is sure to break soon— the sky is already brightening, transitioning into a pinkish orange and the inevitable start of a new day. Out of your sight, Kazuha’s eyes widen and the his ears take on a slightly redder tinge, mouth slightly open like he wishes to say something. After a moment he clears his throat and settles for, “All good things, I hope?”

And the early morning combined with the lack of sleep must have loosened your tongue and lowered you inhibitions. You don’t even bother to hesitate when you speak next. “Good things,” you confirm, loose-lipped and with a traitorous tongue. “How we met. How I never thought we’d be close, or that you’d mean so much to me. Things like that, really.”

”Oh.”

The series of short responses make you pause because… well, how often is it that the flowery-worded Kazuha has such little to say? You turn to him, about to ask if he’s alright, if he’d rather go to sleep than stay up, or if he had taken your words the wrong way, but the words catch in your throat when his hand brushes and then, daringly, takes a hold of your own. His touch is still warm against your own, even through the bandages that wrap it. It’s enough for you breath to hitch and your skin to heat at the contact. His fingers tangle with yours almost hesitantly, as if fearing that you’d break away from him.

You hadn’t even realized when you had taken a step towards Kazuha. You glance up at him, meeting the pretty red of his eyes. As close as you are, you can see the flecks of orange and gold in them; the way that the hues and shades blend together, forming something dappled like an autumn leaf. You can see how his eyes take you in— shamelessly, indulgently, as if he is finally allowing himself to look at you without shying away from being caught. Kazuha’s warmth radiates this close, a beacon against the early chill, and you feel yourself wanting to take another step closer.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Your hands are entangled together as you stand so closely together. Your free hand cradles his face (when had it gotten there?) and he subtly presses himself further against your touch. There isn’t a second that you look away from him— not even when you notice the day break from the corner of your eye. The rays of the early morning sun making a blue and orange painting of the sky, but all you can focus on is how the light comes to caress Kazuha’s face. How it bounces along every curve and dip and mark on his person, and makes his hair glow in the warm light. His eyes, still watching you as intently as you watch him, seem to illuminate in the glow. There is nothing that makes you want to break this moment, that makes you want to take your gaze from him. You don’t want to miss the warmth in his eyes, the soft, heart-wrenching fondness that you can see within them, not even for a single second.

There isn’t anything that can tear you from this moment, your heart leaping in your chest at how breathtaking he is— at how much you adore him.

“I love you.”

The words had been resting so readily on the tip of your tongue that it takes you a moment to realize that, in fact, it hadn’t been you who said it first. Kazuha beat you to the punch, murmuring his confession into the skin of your palm, letting his affection rest over on like a warm blanket. Even as he holds you hand against his cheek, leaning against your touch, he watches you as you gape at him in surprise. There is nothing pressuring or urgent in his voice, nothing that is begging desperately for a reply. He is merely speaking a truth between you two, getting his long-kept secret off of his chest. The only thing that betrays his nerves is the hand he has intertwined with yours, and how his fingers subtly squeeze your own.

How easy it is for him to turn your world on its head with just three words. How easy it is for him to flood you chest with elation, and have you blood warming with a bone-deep relief and love. You want to laugh and cry and yell but now, most of all, you just want to kiss him.

You pull him against you with one hand, fluidly slotting your lips against his in a soft kiss. And oh, those months of pining, of wondering how he would feel so close to you, with his mouth against yours and your fingers tangling in the hairs on his nape, they had been worth it. Kazuha’s kiss just feels so right, so natural. Kissing him was just as easy as falling for him had been. You melt into it, shutting your eyes and letting the hand still against his cheek pull you closer to him. His one arm wraps around your middle, gently cradling you against his chest and you hum. The kiss is, by all definitions, tame, but in no way is it something that leaves you unsatisfied. It is tender, a promise shared between the two of you. Of months-long affection and quiet longing finally resolved. As you bask in his embrace and the warmth of the sun, you forget about the rest of the world. Then and there, it is just you and Kazuha.

When you two separate from air, faces warm and chests heaving as you try to catch your breath, there is a pleased, love-drunk smile on Kazuha’s face. His arm is still keeping you close, and his hand has not once let go of your own.

“I love you too,” you finally tell him, breathless and a long, long cry from what you had imagined your confession to sound like all these months. Nothing smooth or suave that you had been hoping for. But Kazuha still beams regardless, still looks at you like he’s so goddamn happy, and you can’t keep the laugh that bubbles in your chest.

He looks so soft and warm and in love— it just makes you want to kiss him more.

#Kazuha x reader #Kaedahara Kazuha x reader #Genshin Impact x reader #Cw GN reader #Catte’s Works 🦩

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lavender-annd-lilac · 2 years ago

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👁👄👁

So we all know the classic Fic Rec list, but what I really haven’t seen much of is the Fic “Anti-Rec” list.

Just like the wonderful work tumblr is doing with content censorship rn, I would also like to provide you with ways to steer clear of potentially enjoyable content. 😃

⭐️I present, the anti-rec list:⭐️

a collection of written works along with reasons why, and situations where, you shouldn’t read them. Pls enjoy :) All works are 18+

The Last Time - @sunshinebuckybarnes

Don’t read if: you are driving. That’s just straight up irresponsible. Keep your eyes on the road pls. 👀

Only the Lonely - @charnelhouse

Don’t read if: you aren’t wearing your preferred form of vision enhancement (glasses, contacts, etc.). You won’t be able to see the words AT ALL, and let me tell you, the words are the best part. 😉

Crossing Lines - @speechlessxx

Don’t read if: you plan on harassing the author afterwards b/c you weren’t being responsible for your own media consumption. You don’t deserve the feelings of happiness and joy this 2 part fic will elicit. Improve yourself and then come back when you are enlightened, mmmmmmkay? Peace & love ✌️

I Want Your Midnights - @mjolnir-steve

Don’t read if: you are on the FBI’s most wanted list. Turn yourself in first buddy, then go ahead and reward yourself by reading this masterpiece. Don’t forget to reblog after 😘

Snowstorm pt1 & pt2 - @cherienymphe

Don’t read if: You aren’t ready to deal with multiple roommates, because this fic and its part 2 will be living rent free in your head long after you’ve finished reading. 😤

Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes - @thenhewaswrongaboutme

Don’t read if: you’ve just cut the red wire by accident and the timer on the bomb you were trying to diffuse has started to count down. This is currently an ongoing series, so there is literally no way you will be able to finish before the bomb goes off. You will literally die without knowing how it ends, and I’m pretty sure that’s one of the top 5 Worst Ways to Die. 👻

Pillow Princess - @runa-falls

Don’t read if: you don’t have access to clean water. This 2 part series is a real tear-jerker, and by that I mean once you’ve finished, you will be crying for hours b/c there’s no part 3. Dehydration is guaranteed. If you don’t think you will be able to remain properly hydrated, please put your health first and just wait until you accumulate enough drinkable liquid as a safety measure. 💧

You Were the One - @georgiapeach30513

Don’t read if: you are currently working overtime in retail on a Black Friday, x-mas eve, or other hectic shopping event. From experience, I can tell you this is a very disruptive environment, and you will likely be harassed multiple times. These interruptions will negatively affect your enjoyment of this series, which would be doing a great disservice to both yourself and the author. 😵‍💫

The Lion’s Mouth - @rustytricycle

Don’t read if: you anticipate being “bumped off” or otherwise incapacitated before being able to finish this series. For example, do you work in organized crime? Has your boss recently made any remarks to you about “swimming with the fishes” or “pushing daisies”? Maybe just take it one step at a time and stick with one shots and drabbles until you are able to secure witness protection from the government. 🫥

line dividers by @firefly-graphics and can be found here :)

#fic recs #bucky barnes #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #Sierra six #steve rogers #andy barber #jake jensen #multi part fic #personally curated anti-recs #honestly like scared I didn’t make it sassy enough and ppl might not be able to tell if it’s a joke idk help

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the-bi-fangirl-biatch · 2 years ago

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go bestie expose your feelings about the ending😔✌️

before i say anything, these are my OWN opinions! no one take them as me speaking for everyone. you can either respectfully discuss in the reblogs/replies or make your own post if you disagree that much, thank you!!

everything else is under the cut bc oh gosh this is actually pretty long lmao (dw, I have a TL;DR at the end)

let me start with the LOWS of the episode and work my way to a more positive light :)))

first off, we had no resolution to the fob watch/timeless child arc. I can still understand this bit because it's part of the mystery, but it feels like there's so much plot whose ends they still haven't tied together. did she just drop the fob watch containing ALL HER PAST MEMORIES inside the TARDIS and ignore it?? did the doctor really not tell yaz about the memories? did she do that offscreen? like- what? they set up so many plots and didn't even end up continuing them like they deserve

next is how they handled sapphic ships, specifically lesbian ships. I don't know much about the classic companions but from what i've seen, tegan and nyssa are supposed to be together and ace is lesbian-coded, but what we got was retconned tyssa and ace flirting with graham?? and I also disliked how they implied that tegan's life was so dull after being left by the doctor.

they also didnt resolve thasmin at all like?? they gave yaz SO MUCH character development and it looked like her relationship with 13 was gonna have a better resolution because of how they added more of it in EOTD and LOTSD but no?? what happened to "I want to tell you everything" and "if it was gonna be anyone it would've been you"? they just ended it with a nod and walking away silently? now here, I can understand that they both don't want to say goodbye (the doctor bc she hates goodbyes and yaz bc she's holding out hope that they may see each other again) BUT we deserve more than just that. (maybe this is bc I was imagining a killing eve s3 finale-esque goodbye wherein both yaz and the doctor stop in their tracks and turn around for a final goobye kiss, but that's on me lmao)

in addition to that, why is it that the first sapphic doctor is the only one who didn't get a kiss in her entire run, when she had so much chances to kiss yaz? and please don't say "we know it's confirmed to be romantic so we don't need the kiss" bc we have had enough shipping based on subtext and post-show confirmations. i agree that physical touch doesn't define a relationship but can't we have it this once? would it be so hard to give us this on their final day?

finally, imo they hardly gave enough time for jodie to say goodbye to her role properly. it would still have been ok if the episode was only filled to the brim with classic who nostalgia, but then they made her regenerate to 10. instead of giving her (the first female doctor) or ncuti (the first black doctor) the spotlight, they decide to bring back the most popular (and most used) doctor, david tennant. don't get me wrong i LOVE david as a person, but there's a difference between bringing someone back for a cameo and overusing them. with all honesty, I'm tired of him and ten 🤷.

and not only that, they took their most popular (white male cishet) doctor, aka the one that most if not all NMDs compare jodie to, and put him at the end as a cliffhanger? like he was the one they should have been waiting for? they must know that they're diverting people's attention away from appreciating jodie's ending and ncuti's beginning. I keep seeing stuff on twitter like "finally, the good doctor who! they're gonna restore doctor who back to its formal glory! this will prove that the female doctor was a mistake!" which is UTTER BULLSHIT

now here are the HIGHS of the episode because there were a lot of them too:

I LOVED how this episode gave closure to some of the classic companions, aka tegan and ace. I squealed when ace called the doctor "professor" and I'm glad they didn't shy away from showing that a previous companion was (rightfully) upset with the doctor. and all the callbacks! the nitro 9, ace's jacket, and her bat, too. don't even get me STARTED on the "support group for former companions" because that was amazing. IAN WAS THERE?!?!? and it gives such a good open end to them, not only for future projects but also for fanfiction lmao.

the plot of this episode was impressive and fun. its length contributed significantly because it defo wouldn't have worked if it wasn't as long. I really wasnt expecting it to make as much sense as it did because it was a great undertaking, but I'm glad it did. it showed the best parts of chibnall's take on doctor who (utilizing iconic classic who elements well and his own take on history).

THE CHARACTERS!!! gahdamn I loved how they gave the characters their own jobs that only they can handle, like kate and tegan with the cybermen (bc of their history with them), ace with the daleks (same reason, her history) and yaz saving the doctor (bg their PARALLELS here I wanna bawl).

I was also obsessed with the master in this episode!! Sacha played him as such an unhinged little pathetic brat man (affectionate) but he also proved that he was more than capable of delivering powerful scenes. compare the humour of the rasputin dance sequence vs the master so desperately wanting to be the doctor because he feels lonely. he's one of the consistently great things about this episode. i will be hearing RA RA RASPUTIN on repeat in my head for the foreseeable future (as well as thirteen's theme 😭😭😭).

Yaz taking charge!!! my little badass who's grown from being unsure about facing a potential threat in s11 to kicking (the master's) ass, saving ace, flying the tardis like it was nothing, and reversing a regeneration?!?! and not to mention Mandip's acting. she's proven that she has the range of badass action, deep emotion, hilarious comedy, and just raw heart. she's amazing, showstopping, phenomenal. and out of my favourite companions, yaz is the one I connect to the most, both with her struggles (in her mental health, in growing as a person, and in learning she's queer) and her strengths (hopefully her heart, her love for friends, her courage), so to see her grow at the same time as I have is so special to me.

finally, people may disagree with me on this, but I love thirteen's regeneration speech, due to the fact that she did not do it on her own, she didnt just talk to herself on that cliffside (that was just the last bit). most of her speech was to YAZ, her companion, her friend, the one who's supposed to be the viewer's stand-in. her entire message of "goodbyes only hurt because what came before was so special, and it's been so special. no body else got to be us, no body else got to live our days, no body. and my hearts are so full of love for all of you" was not just the doctor to yaz, but jodie and mandip to us. and idc if yall don't like her last words, "Tag, you're it" is SO THIRTEEN and is instantly iconic.

TL;DR I disliked: the abandoned fob watch plot, how they handled sapphic/lesbian characters, the way they hinted at thasmin but never properly resolved them, nostalgia overtaking Jodie's time to say goodbye, and yet another doctor played by david tennant, who I think is overused I LOVED: the closure this gave to tegan and ace, both of them and kate being given unique spotlight, the Former Companion Support Group™️, Sacha Dhawan as the Master, Mandip GIll as Yaz, seeing how much yaz has grown, Jodie Whittaker as The Doctor, aaand 13's regeneration speech (which was directed to yaz and to us, not just to herself)

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phoolsified-chaos · 2 years ago

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I posted 2,888 times in 2022

18 posts created (1%)

2,870 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@adoginthemanger

@enigmasandepiphanies

@identitycrisis-electricboogaloo

@soulmvtes

I tagged 748 of my posts in 2022

#paglet - 215 posts

#pwetty - 130 posts

#hiraeth needs serotonin - 111 posts

#poetry - 63 posts

#studio ghibli my beloved - 42 posts

#before trilogy my beloved - 26 posts

#tumblr fantasies coming true - 23 posts

#hiraeth is turning 20 ✌️ - 19 posts

#quilt of humanity - 18 posts

#mood - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 96 characters

#i should text the guy i learnt pottery from to get my finished pieces glazed and bring them home

My Top Posts in 2022:

fr tho

i really suck at functioning in society. i have awkward silences with my frens now. sometimes even my s/o. and there's so much i wanna tell them. but idk how to. i feel awkward with strangers. i have limited frens. and idk how to make more. even when im close proximity with more ppl. we could probably talk and get somewhere. how do we start. what do i say. they most likely think im a pathetic loner and don't wanna interact. and if i put in efforts, i probably come off as desperate. but what if they seem to not really not be bothered by me. then i over share and embarrass myself. im so boring. i bring up weather and boring college talks. cos the other alternative is my internal monologue. and that's worse.

anyway. i used to think the extrovert adopting introvert wasn't me. now i think it is. cos i dont remember the last time i made a fren

3 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

Phool for phoolandevi

atisundar!

spancc yeu!

psa though: ms phoolandevi does not condone plucking flowers. ms phoolandevi's photos ft. flowers tucked behind her ear are clicked with flowers picked off the ground 🙏

5 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

why is it, that a dog, sleeping in the sun, is so beautiful, y'know, it is, it's beautiful, but a guy, standing at a bank machine, trying to take some money out, looks like a complete moron?

- before sunrise

See the full post

8 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

you know you lonely af when you don't have anyone to sit with in class/mess

level up: your phone is dry af too. you just play mahjong cos you don't have ppl to talk to on your phone

8 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Bro your name is so beautiful i saw in your bio 'Hiraeth' once i was watching one video in which she said that "Welsh me ek word hai Hiraeth jiska matlab hai 'ghar jo kabhi ghar tha hi nhi' "this sentence made me stare at the wall for 10min straight

spancc yeu

yeaaa i had the same reaction when i first discovered the word

my mind somehow interpreted it as 'longing for the soul to come home' or 'homesickness for the soul' and... adopted it!

9 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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4ragon · 2 years ago

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hiya, i saw the prompt list and I don't know if you wanted only romantic pairs (feel free to disregard this ask if it's only romantic), but I thought the last one, about making excuses to bail each other out would be interesting for young klavier and kristoph. the prompt felt really sibling-y to me :Dd think its fun to think about what it mustve been like for them growing up haha

Hmm, I mean, I had been thinking specifically romantic stuff when I reblogged it, but I’m certainly not against writing a platonic pairing! So, uh, sure!

For a few moments, all Kristoph could do was blink down at the phone in his hands. It was a simple text, all things considered.

Klavier

👋 🤏 🎉 🤚 🍺 😭 👏 🖖 👌 ✌️ 👍

“...What is this…?” he muttered to himself, all too aware of exactly what he was looking at. He pushed up his glasses for a moment, rubbing at his face with a disconcerted groan. Didn’t Klavier know he was busy? He had more important things to be doing. It certainly wasn’t his job to babysit the boy twenty-four hours a day.

It was a quiet evening. Late. Too late to be studying for the bar, perhaps, but Kristoph was nothing if not a perfectionist. Best to get started early to absorb the information. Not everyone could regurgitate every fact they’d ever learned on their first try like some snotty little brats Kristoph knew.

Speaking of…

The phone buzzed in his hands. Another string of hieroglyphics for him to interpret. Kristoph’s eyes drifted over the lot of them, debating simply turning the phone off or shattering it against the wall. Finally, he sighed, and placed the call, fingers tapping on the table irritably.

It took a few rings for anything to happen. And then—

“H-Hey bro! How’s it going?”

Klavier’s high-pitched pubescent voice crackled through the phone over the distant, muffled sounds of base-y music. He sounded nervous. Or relieved, Or both?

“I regret to inform you that our family cat has died in a terrible boating accident,” Kristoph deadpanned. “You are needed at home immediately.”

They did not own a cat. They never would own a cat. Kristoph would die before they ever owned a cat.

“Whaaaaat? Nooooooooo. Not Herr Katze!” Klavier cried, far too exaggerated to pass as any sort of genuine distress. He could almost picture the back of Klavier's hand pressed to his forehead in a pseudo-faint. “Oh no, I should…leave this study session of mine right now.”

Kristoph couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Ah, yes, your 'study session,'” he repeated, being sure to pour all his vitriol into his air quotes.

“Ja, that’s right. My…study session,” he said.

Kristoph tsked under his breath. “You understand that you are a big fish in a small pond, right, Klavier?�� he asked, foot tapping on the floor. “Just because you skipped several grades doesn’t mean you have to try to impress the riff raff around you—”

“Ach, you’re breaking up!” Klavier interrupted quickly, making a few static noises with his mouth. “Well I better rush home to check on poor Mutti, she must be so heartbroken over poor Herr Katze.”

“Hmm,” Kristoph agreed. “Yes, I’m sure she will be very grateful, and owe her wonderful son quite the favor in the future, wouldn’t you say—?”

“Ja, ja, whatever you say, Kris.” He could almost picture the cheeky smile, braces and all, grinning back at him. “I’ll talk to you later. Danke!”

“Bitte,” Kristoph muttered back, hanging up before Klavier could say another word.

He scowled at the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. Well, there went all of Kristoph’s concentration for the evening. Nothing left but to try to get a decent night’s sleep before class tomorrow.

As he pushed away from his desk to stand up, his phone vibrated once more. He paused, glancing down at the phone still on his desk.

Klavier

👏 ❤️

Kristoph raised an eyebrow, before sighing, shaking his head with a bemused smirk, and finally shutting off his phone.

(Anyway I'm still willing to do a few more prompts if anyone is interested, hmu)

#i hope this is anything #in my mind kristoph is like 20 here #and klavier is 12 and in high school with the Cool Older Kids #kristoph gavin #klavier gavin #ace attorney #fanfic #j

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trooper-guppy · 3 years ago

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I just wanted to post a thanks to everyone who reblogged or liked my Rex piece! I am really happy people enjoyed it. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to pull off a fully finished piece I was happy with so I really appreciate all the love! I know I posted some progression pictures while I was working on it, but I thought it’d be neat to have it compiled in one place for everyone. I also really wanted to show how much using References and asking for Feedback from other artists can really put up the quality of a piece! Reference images are a given, they are always a useful tool. However, asking for a friend or another artist to have a look and give you some pointers can be a super valuable learning tool! Everyone looks at a piece differently, a friend can maybe push you out of your comfort zone enough to get you to really learn something new and come up with some awesome pieces! The first image I drew was referenced from a pose in a magazine I believe! It’s pretty stiff in terms of pose, and the silhouette is a bit too blocky. It’s hard to see what’s going on in terms of motion and shape. This made me unhappy! I enjoyed the perspective, but the pose just didn’t feel quite right. This is where my good friend stepped in to offer me some critique! He offered me a redline over my original sketch with some alterations to the pose and to push the perspective. It REALLY made this piece shine for me, and really compelled me to continue it to the line work phase! The rest is pretty self explanatory. I am fond of varying black line work similar to the Clone Wars 2003 series hehe... Colour was something that took me the longest I think! Originally I started off with a red sky but felt it was too... harsh. I decided to slap a bunch of colours in the sky instead with a reddish/purple shadow overlay for the shade. I think this part turned out pretty good! Encouragement from your friends or peers is valuable to keep your spirits up! A fresh set of eyes and some company while you draw can make the world of difference! This went on for a lot longer than I had intended, but I hope it can help someone out! If anyone ever felt they wanted a second opinion on a sketch, I would love to help out if I am not flooded with work! I love to learn as well as teach hehe. Again, thanks everyone! Hope you are having a wonderful evening! ✌️ 🐟

#Star Wars #The Bad Batch #Clone Wars #Captain Rex #Rex #Progression #My art #Tutorial?#Idk what to label this #I just wanted to say thank you!#WIP shots

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tenderlyrenjun · 3 years ago

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im so fucking done with ppl like can they not mind their own goddam business and leave you the fuck alone

UGHHH SO FUCKING IMATURE GROW UP

i love your blog everything about is very chill and such a vibe and for me to get on this app just to see ppl getting on u is just annoying asf

LIKE STOP YALL!!!

I honestly wish you got more attention not is a negative way or im not trying to say that u dont have... im just trying to say that u DESERVE THE WORLD!! AND I DONT WANT U TO SAY OTHERWISE

you seem nice... like when u talk to jenosimp or even when u talk abt other idols u seem so cute i feel like u would be an amazing friend and again I DONT WANT YOU TO SAY U WOUDLNT...CAUSE YOU WAOULD SLAYY

bestie the feeling to just fill your inbox with a bunch of hearts increases every fucking day i love you so much and i dont even know you

u deserve so much fucking POSTIVE ENERGY LIKE FR and your writings are so fucking good i wanna dig a whole and crawl in it when i see fic ideas floating through u cause they never disappoint but dumbasses who have NO OTHER FUCKING LIFE THEN TO TALK SHIT ABT U OR BE NEGATIVE NEED THE GET THE FUCK OFF YOUR BLOG

cause honey you such an angle and i hope u know how much i wish you the best

the block function is fun. I use it everyday, and yet .....................

I'm glad I seem nice to you, thanks! I generally have bad first impressions with people, or I'm not too nice until people get to know me, which is ....... yeah, but I'm working on it, i guess.

I'm not really asking for attention nowadays tbh, just because I don't really, like, deserve(?) it (sorry, I don't ._.) or I haven't done anything to warrant attention, like I don't make particularly good fics; I'm not really a popular blog; and I don't have mutuals to interact with, in regards to, like, writing and stuff. and, like, I can't really reblog stuff from writers because a few have me blocked (which, probably, deserved because I am really annoying), or they just don't respond to me (which, again, valid - I'm annoying and they're busy). or, oppositely, out of, like, 200 notes on one of my fics, there will be one empty reblog, or out of 250 notes, there will be one "read later" that doesn't ever turn into a comment, so, like, I just have to assume that people aren't actually reading anything I write, which ... sucks, but there's nothing I can do about anything. I can't really force people to read my writing or interact with me; I can't control people, and I feel really bad for making other people feel bad, so I try not to, like, ask for comments or anything anymore.

oh, I am a really good friend; this is, like, something I'm pretty confident about in my irl life - I am very supportive to all my friends, even with their decisions I don't agree with; I'm a good listener and gift giver; I respect their boundaries and contact them often enough to still be friends; and I know how all of my friends like to be loved, so I don't really doubt my ability to be a good friend once people stick around. Thanks for noticing that.

there's a lot of negative anons and just ... ✌️ that's it; idk ... like, hendery throwing up a leave sign right after crying mood. idk, I just assumed that people got those anons. I hit block and then just ... boop there's more

#anon asks

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heybeybey · 4 years ago

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@lenacker I hope you don't mind me hijacking this post but I hope this can serve as the Rivetra fandom's sort of revenge against these toxic Levi stans. They're all just jealous that Petra had more chance to blow him than they will ever have ✌️🧡🖤

----

Levi and Petra walked down the aisle that will lead them to their carriage. The atmosphere around them is light and happy, and while he hates the amount of people that are currently within close proximity, the joy on Petra's face made it bearable.

Unfortunately, some brat decided that now's the time to sour the mood. A civilian pushes herself through the crowd to try and catch their attention, grabbing on to Levi's sleeve in desperation.

"Captain Levi, please let me blow you one last time before you get married to that tree-hugging bitch!"

Levi's face morphs in disgust as he holds tighter to his wife's hands. He rips his hand away from the stranger on reflex and before he can even retort a rude reply, a flash of white and orange passes his vision.

Petra delivers a swift kick to the unnamed woman's face (which reminds Levi of the way he kicked Jaeger years before in the courtroom) and he can't help but feel pride start to glow in his chest.

Levi stares as Petra gears up for another attack, hiking up her puffy wedding dress and using her knee to deliver a blow to the woman's stomach. The stranger drops to the ground, gasping in shock and pain.

Eld was right when he said Petra would kill for him, Levi recalls in amusement.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Oluo and Gunther starting to step forward to maybe stop Petra, while Eren nervously watches the scene unfold. The invited Survey Corps guests (which was... almost all of them because, well, this is Petra), all stares in shock and silence as Petra finally grabs the woman's hair. They've never seen Petra this violent before except for when she's fighting titans.

"Say that again to my face!" Petra says lowly. Her sweet voice clashes with the harsh words, making her next statement all the more spine-chilling. "Why don't I try shoving a tree branch up your ass?"

Huh, seems like living together with four men gave his wife a colorful vocabulary.

"Okay, that's enough." Levi throws a glare at the woman. To rub salt to the wound, Levi turns back to Petra and leads her away. "Mrs. Ackerman, I believe our carriage awaits."

----

This reblog is a shitpost but the true shits here are the toxic levi stans

(...u do know u can jack off to one character without shitting on another right??? is that so hard to do???)

Toxic Levi stans are really funny. They hate Petra for loving Levi and for being shipped with him.

I mean, we're in a completely different dimension from him, only know Levi for like a few hours, yet we helplessly fall in love with him.

Petra was his direct subordinate for years! She spent almost 24/7 with him, had tea and late-night conversations with him, saw his kindness and his exceptional skill right before her eyes multiple times. YOU CAN'T BLAME HER FOR FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM!

#petra would 200% kick their asses #or remain unbothered until they directly harass her captain #i'd like to see y/n insert herself now #i don't really mind the levi x y/n bec who can blame them #BUT ONCE THEY GO AFTER OUR HAZELNUT #THEN U CAN BET ITS OVER FOR THESE BITCHES

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mikkiscribbles · 7 years ago

Photo

curlicuecal:

le-wendigogo-reblogs:

le-wendigogo:

staff:

Here it is: Best stuff first

Extremely handy if you follow a lot of people and hate missing anything good.

Best Stuff First moves the best stuff on your dashboard—mhm!—right up to the top.

It’s rolling out this week on iOS and Android, and comes with this Help Center article.

Thanks! ✌️

I don’t have the option to turn it off yet, but chances are good that my dash is still affected. Chances are good that y'all have been affected. Whatever you do, keep checking your settings tab for the ability to TURN THIS OFF. Because we creators are gonna suffer from this.

————

There’s a chance that y'all might not have gotten this option yet, but i finally did. For the sake of all creators out there, check your general settings and look for this option. If you have it, TURN IT OFF. Don’t let some algorithm dictate what you see.

Don’t just like this. It needs to be spread so people know. Not only will your feed be out of chronological order, but creators who aren’t hella popular are suffering lack of exposure because of this. This is the one thing i WILL pressure to reblog.

Hilariously, I did not see this new post at the top of my dash until I turned off the dashboard sorting thing.

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sapph--ire · 3 years ago

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Signals Lost - I

Photo Edits/Graphics/Page Breaks by me. Gifs as credited.

Signals Lost: Sy x Reader

Synopsis: Set at the start of the Iraq war, and the years that follow. Y/N (Reader) and Captain Syverson meet on base as he trains for a new role in the military. Warnings: 18+ Angst/Romance/Smut: (Update as I go) Slowburn, misogyny, swearing, drinking, smoking. A/N: I've been sitting on this one for a while, um'ing and ahh'ing over whether I should publish. My first series so please be kind, like, reblog etc. Feedback is always appreciated! I am but a wee Sy fan with big ideas for his character.

Do not steal, do not re-post to external sites or claim as own.

Disclaimer: Not Beta’d, all mistakes are my own. Details of military life from personal experience not fact. I do not own any rights to Captain Syverson/Sandcastle. Feedback and commentary are appreciated, enjoy BBZ. Saff x 🥸✌️

MINORS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

Navigation

Signals Lost

Words: 6.5k Reading Time: 26 Minutes

I - September 9th, 2002:

The droning of your strained car engine blends with the booming pop beat coming through the old blown-out speakers. Indicating right onto the quiet motorway, you wind the window down to alleviate the late summer heat. Allowing your hair to whip around your face you can feel the cool lick as the wind finds the sweat at your hairline. Switching into 4th and pulling into the stream of traffic you turn your indicator back up and settle in for the next 20 odd miles of countryside. The sun sags heavily, looming over the wide horizon blanketing the expanse of flat fields. In the distance, a huddled group of hangers and buildings reveal your destination, a town rising in a wispy haze of heat blooms.

Living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere has its benefits, a sense of happy isolation from the world - but desperately boring at times. You think of your friends you left school with, happily married with children, the continual drip of dull, domestic life. But you are happy, at least this summer had been a happy one. Since graduating from Uni you’d made an effort to be more sociable, taking this job was one check off that list, meeting new faces getting to know the locals. It wasn’t a well-paid job, but a family friend put you up to it on the assurance the Americans tipped well. Which they did of course, but on the rare occasion they didn’t, they more than made up for it with a story or two.

Now 6 weeks in you felt comfortable, and conversation was something you’d always excelled at - you’d be lying if you didn’t admit the best part of the job was being able to mingle with some of the best looking men you’d ever laid eyes on, but that was just a perk. They were different to the men here at home, alien. You’d never encountered so many tall, broad men, fatigues filled with muscles - and that’s ignoring just how respectful they were. Yes Ma’am this, No Sir that.

Overtaking a tractor heavily laden with beet, a wobble from under your accelerator reminds you to book the wheel alignment on your piece of shit car, you sigh as you make a mental note to call the garage as soon as you get to the bar, more expense to worry about. The sun still setting on the skyline you reach the first sign for the base, your reminder to turn off. Making the turn into the left lane you see litter left behind from a recent anti-war protest, fluorescent signs plastered with the CND symbol, angry slogans zip-tied to the chain-link fence, and one very offensive cartoon of Bush and Blair in some sort of 69 position. If only you could stop and steal that one, it was bloody hilarious, thinking about how you might pick it up on your way back later to avoid explaining it to the entry guards on your way in. Pulling up to the gates you fish your ID from your bag, wind down the rest of your window, and make sure to slow enough to appease the 4 huge men gripping tactical firearms. Just to quell your anxiety you pull forward cautiously until the one at the front holds his hand out gesturing a stop.

“Good Evening Ma’am” He twangs with a short smile “Identification?”

“Sure, I’m headed to The Stoke, I’m a barmaid there,” You say trying not to look at the huge rifle clipped to his jacket. “uhh Civvy” you add.

“Ok, you know where you’re headed Miss?” he hands back your ID with what seems like a wink.

“Yes thanks” you nod awkwardly, ignoring the subtle twinkle from his eye.

“Lemme just get your slip” he notes pointing to the hut, “what time are you finished?”

“Midnight, but can you make it one please?” he looks at you expectantly “oh sorry…I mean I’m locking up tonight so it will probably take a bit longer, you can check in with my manager if you need to, um Brian West”

“No it’s fine Ma’am just make sure you're off the base by one, or I’ll be in the shit” he smirks. After a short moment in the hut he comes back with a parking slip on a piece of receipt paper:

The barrier lifts and you wave your thanks as you make your way over the speed bumps. A handful of flag poles line the road, the ropes clinking against the metal posts in the late-afternoon breeze. Little roads meander from the hub of the base twisting to meet behind the administration building towards your right. Here the streets are named after states, to your right Iowa leads across to the rear of the admin block, and straight on California to the airfield. Making sure to stick to the 10mph speed limit you drive past clusters of airmen huddled at junctions, some guarding entrances to unmarked doors, others checking the array of parked cars with mirrors on sticks. The base has been on high alert ever since what happened last year, but even more now the anniversary was approaching.

The bar is found at the recreation plaza a little further back from the building you just passed, but still nowhere near the bulk of the small town here. In the distance, you can see the heavily guarded interior gates that block the operational base from the residential side. The airfield and hangers slowly fade into the dusk, and you can make out a dozen or so figures lumbering seats and benches to a roped-off area on the tarmac. To the east of that, there’s a huge middle school for the kids here on base, a complex of married quarters and row upon row of small houses lining what looks like the streets of a model village; as if someone tried to replicate an American suburb with very little space. Not nearly enough to house the 1500 strong population of families here on PCS. Bathed in the yellow floodlights you note the group of men jogging down the path toward the entry gates, and park your car around the back of the bar. You place the parking slip on your dashboard, grab your bag and slide out of your car. It’s not really a ‘plaza’, just a group of buildings huddled around a small fountain lined with more flags and an outdoor seating area. Directly opposite a bustling pizza shop serves a growing line of Friday night customers. Next door is a now-closed donut shop, that one gets real busy in the morning, and past that the gym specifically for relatives on the base. Checking your watch you note the time 17:19 and walk through the open double doors into the bar.

A cloud of cigarette smoke lingers above the mass of bodies at the entrance, practically squeezing through the huddle of men, you see all the tables are filled. Mostly groups of men drinking together after work, but some are families and couples. In the far corner past the pool table, you see what appears to be an unofficial creche of misplaced children playing cheerfully, several running and sliding on their knees to the noisy music. Hugging through the crowd you raise your hand and smile at Mary behind the bar, letting her know you’ve arrived. She barely notices you as she’s taking cash off a woman with one hand and pouring red wine with the other. Setting your things on the hook behind the kitchen entrance, you sign in to the clipboard on the back of the door and check your reflection in the mirror. A crumpled paper sign saying Smile hangs aside it from a small strip of not-so sticky tape. Before you’ve even got time to tie your apron around your waist Mary comes wobbling back to greet you, “Y/N so glad you’re here, I would ask how you are but I’m rushed off my feet, do you mind starting a bit earlier?”

“I’ll be right there Mar” quickly finger-combing your wind whipped hair, you check your mascara and apply a quick coat of lip gloss. Whilst practicing your best smile you unashamedly adjust your top to expose more of your chest than normal, extra tips you think. You scoot around the barrels of oil and kegs of beer in the hallway, and squeeze past Brian who is making his way back to the Kitchen holding an empty tray from the hotplate, “Brian!” you give him a friendly smile, “Busy tonight!” you quip. He grumbles under his breath and in his typical quick wit shouts back “for my sins!”, limping off to refill the fries.

The back of the bar is small, only room for two to pass, but pretty much covers the length of the room, “you take that end Y/N” Mary shouts, you can barely hear her over the band that’s playing on the small stage at the right of you, smiling at the sea of hands waiting for service, you move closer to Mary, “I said you take that end” she repeats into your ear, a waft of cheap perfume and cigarette ash lingering around her head. “I need to get another crate of bottles, you man the fort”, you nod in understanding.

“Can I do that for you, what about your back?” almost yelling into her face, it’s so bloody loud. Yet another night the band ‘forgets’ to soundcheck.

“Don’t mind me dear just get these people away from my bar” she shouts and turns before lifting her hand “don’t forget to take a card if you’re doing tabs, for the love of god Y/N” Mary smiles at you and slaps you on the back as she teeters off to the storeroom on her heels. Mary wasn’t elderly, but she was small and hunched. Clearly once a very beautiful woman, she was prideful in her appearance - always neat. She never wore flat shoes regardless of her back pain, always wore dresses, and styled her perm with what smelled like a full can of Elnette. Given her pack a day habit, it was a total surprise she didn’t self-combust. A never-ending bundle of energy despite her aging years, she and Brian had managed the bar here for well over 30 years, even before the Yanks descended. Turning back to the baying crowd at the bar you take a deep breath and start on orders, a pitcher of draught beer and 2 glasses, whiskey chasers, red wine, more beer, 3 bottles of Pepsi for the kids. Being a barmaid wasn’t hard but it was difficult getting around the expectations of the customers. We didn’t have those fancy cherries or all the brands of liquor they wanted, we didn’t even have an ice machine - but we did our best with a smile, no matter how forced.

About an hour after arriving, the crowd starts to quieten as the early birds make their way home before the evening drinkers pile in. The families and children, some carried sleeping by their parents, leave the bar; satisfied and ready for bed before the weekend ahead. You take advantage of the change in pace and move to the far end of the counter to count the cash and deposit it in the till, punching in the numbers to ensure it all totals at the end of the night. Don’t want a repeat of last week. A major fuck up on your part had the till declaring to be hundreds over what you actually had counted out back. An awkward conversation later everything was fixed, but you just didn’t want to go through that again.

“I’m back dearie” Mary appears from the back door clutching napkins in her neatly manicured hand, “want to take a break? Get some air?” she says while fiddling with the napkins and making little piles of paper umbrellas for the pots. The band has stopped for a quick break, their instruments resting on the stage - only the backup CD playing now, a slow country ballad. Looking across the dance floor you note the dirty tables full of glasses and a few couples slow dancing in the disco lights.

“I thought you’d never ask! Do you mind if I make a call from the phone?” you say wiping the sweat from your top lip.

Uninterested she waves her hand “yes dear that’s fine” she’s now measuring out bowls of bar nuts.

“Thanks Mar, I’ll just grab these dirties from the floor first”. Moving around the room you bring them up to the bar, noting the stack of glasses and pitchers left on the pool table. Tutting to yourself, you have no idea why they won’t get someone else to help. It’s going to be even more manic later. Remembering to make your call to the garage you have a sly smoke break out the back door and make your way to the toilets. It’s not even 7 pm and you’ve been so busy you didn’t even have time to piss. Reaching for the paper you feel an empty roll, typical! - thankfully you have a napkin in your apron, you wash your hands, and get started on checking the customer loos for the same problem.

It’s not long before the bar is filled again with heated bodies bustling towards the counter, cash in hand eager for service. Thankfully Brian has closed up the kitchen and is diligently working the floor, grabbing empties from tables and replacing the back of the bar with boiling glasses from the dishwasher. A group of airmen on your right side propping up the bar, are keenly keeping you busy in bottles of beer and tequila chasers. The band is back now, but instead of the previous crowd-pleasing country music, they’ve switched to some rock and roll. Mostly oldies but a few you recognise and love. A pretty decent cover of ZZ Tops – Gimme All Your Lovin blasts over the noisy PA system. Dancing along to the music you swiftly take orders and cash in return for booze including the odd kiss on the cheek. You’re raking in the tips tonight. In your head, you’re not just the barmaid, you feel as if you were Violet from Coyote Ugly, free pouring whiskey into the mouths of rabid men, spraying them with water when things get too wild. Taking a swig from your bottle of beer you lean across the bar to greet another nameless regular with a friendly face.

“Two beers babe” he shakes a 10 in your face, teasingly pulling away when you go to take it. Following his lead, you put the 10 in your cleavage, cheekily pocketing the change and hand him the bottles.

“Service with a smile” you grin. Have a nice day arsehole.

In the corner of your eye, you see Mary dancing with a young serviceman who’s found his way behind the bar, doing her best Tina Turner impression strutting in her wobbly heels. Brian simply raises his eyebrows to subtly acknowledge what is clearly a regular occurrence and carries on stacking cups. Whilst Tina’s getting her rocks off you try your best to move up and down the bar, pouring pitchers and pulling beer caps at the same time. It’s getting late, past 10 at least, and your back heaves, impatient with the mob.

The thumping bass line from the speakers hits your chest relentlessly as you hurry from punter to punter your shoes sticking to the mess of soda and spirits spattered on the linoleum. Taking short breaks you pull your cold bottle of beer to your cheeks to ease the burn of the humid room on your skin. Before you realise it the optics on the wall need changing and you shout to Brian to grab more whiskey and another bucket of ice.

Predictably the serviceman who was dancing with Mary is now behind you playfully rocking his hips to the music against your back as you pass drinks across the counter. Refusing to rise to it, you try to push him away with an awkward laugh at the men in front of you. He drunkenly stumbles back against the wall of optics and comes back closer forcing you up against the bar, humping you insistently in time to the music, laughing as if it’s all some kind of big joke. Drinks spill over you as he pushes you further into the countertop. You look at the faces in front of you, some of them women cheering him on in howls, the others laughing at the display in front of them. A flush rises to your cheeks, embarrassed by the attention. You’re used to being teased by these types of guys, but right now you feel entirely humiliated, fucking pig. Pushing again you move your right elbow back as hard as it can to meet the side of his ribs.

“Get the fuck off me” you yell. “Arsehole!”. A chorus of boos erupt from the baying audience.

“You’re no fuckin’ fun” he spits in your face, before swiftly jumping back over the bar into the commiserating thumps of his friends, pulling off a strip of stars and stripes bunting with his boot as he goes. As hard as you try to shake it off a wave of guilt enters your mind, you worry you were too harsh, and take a deep breath. Moving the hair from your face you use a bar mat to mop up the spillage as best you can, chuck it in the corner of the floor, and turn to serve the airmen waiting on the right-hand side of the bar; holding back a burn of tears you summon your best fake smile.

“You ok?” The taller of them leans in and hollers to your ear, you step back and meet his heavy-lidded eyes, he’s probably just doing the gentlemanly thing. “Fucking trench monkey” he jibes whilst the 4 others beside him roar in agreement. “4 more shots!” he waves a note.

“I’ll be fine, typical Friday night” shrugging it off, you take his money and lay out the glasses pouring warm tequila to the brim. On decanting a 5th for yourself you snicker at the handsome face eagerly watching you, “emotional compensation” you add with a wink.

“Hell yeah baby!” he howls following your lead and in passing back the drinks to his buddies they chant and down them in unison.

“Free Bird! Free Bird!” an anonymous voice booms from the crowd toward the exhausted band. A smattering of claps and cheers punctuates the request as agreement. The band reluctantly continues for one last song as the ring of the bell signals it’s time to move on.

“Jesus!” you slump your tired arms against the counter, your hazy head falling on your hands.

“Another packed night” Mary pats you on the back in appreciation. Moving up and down the bar, cigarette in hand - unphased by the wild events before. “Good for business” she chirps, spraying the wood and polishing each section fervently.

“Yeah, about that Mar, any chance you can find someone else to help out?” you straighten and look toward her optimistically, the last of the rabble slowly rolling out of the open doors and crisp evening.

“It depends, you’re not planning on leaving us?” pointing at the grate above the hatch she pulls herself onto a small step stool to reach the top.

“No!” you laugh, “despite the over-friendly customers, I really enjoy it here…”

“1, 2, 3” and you both pull down on the metal together, closing the bar for the night. You fiddle with the lock on the grate and put the key in her small hand.

“I mean, the 3 pm shift not so much” you joke, “it gets kind of slow, you know?”

“Well,” she starts “I’ll speak to Brian, he’s the man with the money.” A smile forms at her mouth and she winks. “Speaking of, do you want to be paid now or Sunday?” from nowhere she has a mop in her hands and with her back turned she gets stuck into relieving the sticky mess from the floor. The lights buzz on from the left to right, and all that’s left is the loud ring of tinnitus and Brian shaking the hands of the weary band on the far side of the floor.

Sunday is planned to be a quiet day, the base has a full day of anniversary events lined up, the bar will probably host a few small groups – mainly the regular crowd before they head back to their homes. “Sunday is more than fine” you reply.

Shutting the back door ensuring it clicks, you turn the key in the lock and replace the key chain to your ID lanyard. All that’s left of the night is the navy blue of the star-dotted sky and a misty amber glow from the many floodlights dotted across the estate. Rummaging in your bag you quickly check the time - 12:25 am.

“Night Y/N” Mary waves out the passenger side of her car as Brian drives them back toward the entry gates along the vast airfield.

Still time for a quick smoke, you think, before you get back in your car and head home. Lifting the filter to your lips you pull a lighter from your pocket and drag the thick burning vapour to your lungs, a wash of peace falls over you and you flex your heavy shoulders. The base is practically silent, save for the whir of generators and vehicles on the breeze. It isn’t until you walk a little way to your car you suddenly hear a cacophony of raised voices - angry voices. Around the corner of the bar, a small gathering of people litter the plaza, refusing to give in to the call of their beds. Directly in front of the now locked doors, you see the airmen you served earlier, arguing with a couple of guys sitting on the wall. One of them seems to be spitting sick into a bush, hunched hands on knees into the raised flower bed. Lovely. Not wanting to be seen you slide back against the cool brick and continue to meditate on the evening gone. The burning embers of your cigarette light your face as you take a deep breath and sigh heavily.

Being on base always feels a little like trespassing into a place you’re not supposed to be, the last thing you want is to be caught in all this. The echo of retching and vomit hitting the pavement turns you around. You know you should really get going but he was kind to you earlier, checking in on you – and you really couldn’t forgive yourself if you didn’t try to help, fuck. Whilst crossing the cobbles you dig in your bag for tissues, maybe you could even grab him a water from the kitchen, it’s the least you could do. You flick the half spent cig to the side and squat down to face the Airman.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for checking in on me ba…” you are quickly interrupted by a scoff on the other side of the pathway.

“That’s the fucking bitch”. In the low glow of the parking lot lights, you realise it’s your insistent dance partner from before. His mouth curled up in disgust. “Don’t flatter yourself” he jeers clearly hurt. Fucking fuck! “What’s your name?” You offer the tissues to the man at your side.

“It’s Y/N,” you say timidly. “Look, I didn’t mean any offe..”

“Well you’re a Cunt Y/N!” he spits on the floor at your foot punctuating the disgusting word from his mouth as you step back trying your best to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

“Hey that’s out of line buddy” a bystander points back.

“Go home, Bryant,” another says shaking his head.

Before you can process what the hell is happening or even bother to try and argue back, the nauseous airman is wobbling ahead of you. Squaring up to your aggressor, unstable fists raised for a fight, he lunges forward pushing him back into the bush. A symphony of groans and shouts erupt as his colleagues run to pull him back. The men grapple with each other for an uncomfortably long time, their arms pulled back in anger over and over again, battering whatever they could find. A sickening thud and snap echoes across the plaza, and the airman falls back on his bum clutching his nose.

I can’t believe this, FUCK. “Shit man, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you groan as you push the wad of tissues under the airman’s nose, his warm blood emptying all over your hands.

Without warning a truck surges into the parking lot, brakes shrieking as you cover your eyes from the blinding white beams of the headlights. The stragglers hanging about the plaza quickly scatter and tramp back to their respective quarters, a sign that you should too. You get back on your feet, backing up between the entrance to the bar and the men in front.

If you had a chance to dash it, it’s definitely gone now. Two figures emerge from the cab, slamming their doors in time, resonating a loud bang off the circle of buildings. They’re looking in your direction, or at least at the group of exhausted men in front of you. The bigger of them is wearing smartly pressed fatigues with a green beret, he towers head and shoulders above the rest. His thick arms swing at his side as he advances. Considering you’ve been working on base for 6 weeks, you still have zero idea what any of the uniforms or patches mean - but just from the swagger of this hulking guy…you know someone’s in deep shit, and a deep ache in your stomach says you should leave before you find out who.

He lumbers up the curbside and you audibly gasp as you notice he has a handgun strapped tight across his thigh. What really takes your attention, however, is the flash of steel clipped to his belt. A tactical knife longer than your forearm sheathed in a crested leather scabbard. Apart from the guards patrolling on site, you’ve never seen any other weapons up close. The proximity alone raises your heartbeat, a mixture of fear and curiosity rushes over you as you wonder why this soldier, in particular, carries a handgun so close to their body.

Without a word the men jump to attention, swaying drunkenly from side to side. The smaller of the two approaches locking on to the airman, blood oozing from his nostrils.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is this!” He booms “Peterson, do I have to hose you down like a rabid dog”

“No Staff Sergeant” he burps, the pungent smell of vomit and alcohol wafting from the vapours of his mouth.

You feel your cheeks flush at his mere volume, trying not to jump with each staccato boom of his interrogation. Don’t panic, don’t panic you relay to yourself. Just explain what happened, you’re not in trouble. You haven’t done anything wrong. Squinting your eyes to adjust to the headlights you search for some sort of way out of this mortifying scenario.

“Are you inebriated Shitbird?” he yells a mist of spit dusting onto Peterson's face.

“Ineb…inebriat? Staff Sargeant” he stammers flicking his head to prevent the blood from his nose trickling down his top lip.

Now looming down onto Airman Peterson's head, eyes freakishly large behind his wide brimmed hat, he repeats “Are you so fucking wasted you don’t know what that means, shit head?”

“Sir, yes I am drunk Sir” Peterson announces to the smirks of his friends.

“Get the fuck out of my sight and back to bricks before I send you to the stockade” he yells “all of you!”. The crack in his voice at the end of ‘you’ is somehow so childishly hilarious at that moment that you let out involuntarily snort in a self-conscious chuckle. The silent taller man snaps his head in your direction, although just a silhouette you can feel the burn of his eyes as he scrutinises you. You bring your hand to your mouth wishing you could sink into the floor and disappear never to be seen again.

“Yes Sir” the four airmen bark in agreement and swiftly exit past the pizza shop in the direction of the inner gate. As they leave a series of awkward laughs disappear into the darkness with them. Now it’s just you, the officers, and your assaulter.

Feeling a chill you realise the novelty of the situation has long gone, what the eff do I say, think THINK!

The Staff Sergeant continues, “Can someone explain to me what in God’s name is going on here?”

In the heavy silence you take your chance to speak up, nervous waves sound as you try to excuse yourself. “Look, I am so sorry” Shit do I say, Sir? Sirs? You contemplate it for a second. “The Airman…um Peterson…was unwell, and I was just trying to make sure he got home alright” shut up, shut up, shut up ”S…Sir?”. Pulling your hands to your arms in comfort, you feel your goose-pricked skin tighten from the chill of the Sergeant’s inspecting glare. Is it fear or nerves? You know this is it, you’re going to get shouted at by at least one of the most terrifying men you’ve ever met. Remembering that time you got called to the Headmasters office for swearing at Ms. Dixon – and subsequent suspension, a worse thought crosses your mind. What if I lose my job! Oh god. If only I’d just gone home when I could.

The larger of the commanders pushes forward, “Not you” he drawls in disdain. Without even looking at you he points his finger, commanding you to shut up and stay put. You don’t know if it’s the gun on his thigh or some sort of mind trick, but you freeze in submission, chest tight, too scared to even breathe. He eclipses the light from the truck with his body as he advances on your aggressor. In the halo of white now lighting his face you can make out his features, a thick 5’o’clock shadow stubbled around a striking moustache, dark curls lay on his forehead. Something else catches your attention, something you can’t quite place at first. The early morning wind picks up, creating a vortex around the small plaza, gathering up leaves and litter as it rises. It’s the smell of his deodorant or cologne, a rich musk mixed with a lilt of whiskey. The fragrance lingers around you, distinctly masculine, a sudden twinge in your belly follows budding wetness in your knickers. Really? You chide your growing schoolgirl crush, a bloom of heat visibly rising to your face as you realise you’re turned on by his icy disregard.

“This is the second call I’ve gotten about you this evening Bryant”, he rumbles at the serviceman now shadowed by his superiors broad frame, “first for assaultin’ a barmaid and now for fightin’ in the God damn street?!” he doesn’t need to raise his voice, a disappointed grumble punctuates his words so perfectly you shift from side to side, feeling scolded in turn. He scrunches his face, bringing his hand to the bridge of his nose.

“Apologize to Staff Sergeant Holmes, Cadet” he orders, his deep voice gravely and fatigued. Something in his tone tells you this is not the first time Bryant has fucked up in his charge.

Bryant turns, ego bruised but still at full attention to the man beside him. “I am very sorry Staff Sergeant, Sir.”

“I am disappointed in your behaviour on my base Son. Hardly becoming of an Officer in training. Given the circumstances, I will let Captain Syverson decide how best to penalize you” Holmes starts, a smirk on his smug face. “But!” He cuts, chin to chin with the Cadet “If I see you as much as piss in my direction I will gladly PT you until you’re shitting blood for a week. Do you understand Son?”

“Yes, Sir!” Bryant jolts. Satisfied, the Staff Sergeant shares a confirmatory nod with the Captain and silently turns back toward the truck. A series of revs signal his departure, and the truck fades from view.

“You fuckin’ idiot Bryant” The captain throws his hands to his hips. You can’t help but notice how large they are, the pads of his thick fingers drum into the woven band of his belt as he contemplates what action to take. “Are you purposefully tryin’ to make us look bad?” He grimaces as Bryant bursts into raucous laughter. Am I bloody invisible?

“Come on Sy, that was fucking funny, you should have seen that guy's nose”. “Shut the fuck up Bryant. Apologize to…” he finally turns, taking you in with a pained inhale. “What’s your name darlin’?”

You step back at his sudden change, Darlin’? Who the fuck does this guy think he is? I am NOT your Darlin’ Grunt. The words you wished you could say, that is if you weren’t so scared of him. “It’s Y/N” you barely manage to get your words out. Searching the Captain's face you try to determine just how much trouble you are in. “Look I need to leave, my permit runs out in…”, you check your watch, “Fuck, I have to get off the base”.

“I’ll make sure you get back to the gate, OK?” he raises his finger again, a sign to stay while he deals with Bryant. He turns a frosty gaze toward the Cadet. His chest rises as he takes his beret in hand wringing it between enormous palms.

“Apologise to Y/N Cadet” he starts, louder than before. Bryant quickly reassumes his attention, clearly, the Captain is not playing buddy tonight.

Turning towards you he spits out his best non-apology, “Y/N I am so sorry you’re a CUNT” his words are full of spite, his eyebrows dance up and down in insult as he mocks you.

“Bryant!” The Captain smacks the cadet upside his shaved head, the slap reverberating in the still of the dark.

“Fuck! I am very SORRY” he virtually shouts, “I am sorry for bothering you” His eyes meet the floor, cracked like a scolded child”

“Right, now stop pettin’ the fuckin’ wildlife, are we clear Cadet?” The Captain orders back, his eyes boring a hole into Bryant’s drooping head. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, Just what exactly is that meant to mean?

“You’re lucky I don’t call the MP’s out this late.” He grumbles turning back to glance at you. You can’t control the shudder from your core as the cold of the night blankets your bare arms, or was it nerves still? “We are guests on this base and in this country” The Captain continues, “I’m takin’ your off base privileges for a month, you can spend your nights on CQ duty” He smirks content with his judgment as Bryant shakes his head to the floor, a whispered curse under his tongue. “FINE” he snarls, “0600 for write up, you can face the Wing Commander”.

“Yes Sir!” Bryant complies through gritted teeth.

“Right, now fuck off” he breaks his gaze from the dejected Cadet and steps forward to you. Placing his beret back on his head, he combs back the dark curls rebelling from the thick gel covering the rest. He presses his fatigues down with a flat hand searching for something in the velcro pockets.. “You said something about a permit?” he smiles, producing a pen from his chest pocket. You can feel the warmth of his breath as he closes in on you. The sheer proximity of his frame making your knees weak.

“Sure, it’s in my car.” You squeeze past the Captain, “it’s just here” you point to the dark at the back of the plaza and make your escape. “Look am I in trouble…becau…” you turn expecting him to be where you were just stood. “Fuck!” you jump, “you’re really quiet?!”. He simply chuckles, cocking his head at you. Laughing awkwardly you hope he doesn’t sense just how nervous he’s making you. Unlocking the passenger door with the key, you lean in to reach past the steering wheel. “I mean I’m just a barmaid…it’s not a big deal, we get arseholes like that most weekends” you ramble searching for the slip of paper in the dark.

“Vulgar Display of Power?” you hear him mutter behind you.

“Sorry?” you look from his pointed hand to the box of tapes spilling onto the footwell.

“You like metal?” he probes.

“Oh yeah I suppose. I like a lot of music, depends on how I feel that day”, You hear a soft ‘tsk’ behind you and glance back. He’s taking in the view of you, one knee on the passenger seat, bent at the waist, struggling forward.

“I mean there’s also a lot of shit I listen to in there, boy bands, Pop-y stuff” you remark, finally finding the paper that had slipped under the glass of the windscreen. “Shania Twain…”.

Pulling yourself back and tugging your jeans up – you cover what you assume was distracting him, the back of your thong. “Here” you stretch your hand to his and pass the piece of paper, he scribbles something on the back, turning to the light of the streetlamp to see better.

“All set Darlin’” he arrogantly pushes the paper back into your hand, the heat from his fingers brushing against your frozen knuckles.

“Thanks, for this”, you raise the paper between you and force a smile tucking the slip into your jeans pocket. “And for, you know, not kicking me off base”.

“Still time for that Doll’” he teases looking at his watch, “you have 9 minutes” stepping back and disappearing around the corner of the bar. His deep voice carries in the dark “Now get! Before I change my mind” he echoes from the shadow.

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