#seats on buses/trains. and the looks is get for even asking.

[cottonlemonade]

A Night In The Country

word count: 3626 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.

pairing: University AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni

request: medium custom peach lemonade for Sakusa!♡ Custom: You thought your crush was one-sided little did you know... || fluffy-spicy, getting stranded with seemingly one-sided crush Sakusa

Sakusa leaned back in his seat. His long legs elegantly crossed, he took a sip of his iced hazelnut americano, tapping and scrolling aimlessly on his phone, his mask tucked neatly under his chin.

The lecture hall was filling slowly and the chatter of the dozen or so students that already waited just like him was quietly buzzing in the air.

Sakusa didn’t pay much attention to any of it. He already scanned the room and saw that you hadn’t arrived yet.

But only a moment later, his shoulders tensed slightly when your voice wafted over to him, like the sweet smell of a craving he’d had. He didn’t turn around but he angled his phone a little to catch your reflection. You were laughing with a friend as you walked down the steps, trying to decide where to sit. He was lucky today. You shuffled through the benches behind him and settled a few seats away.

“So it’s not gonna be fixed in time?”, he heard your friend ask somberly.

“I mean, it could be probably, but I don’t have the money right now. New brakes are so expensive, I’ll have to at least pull two extra shifts at the store to afford them. I was looking into some buses but because we live so far out there is no direct route and I’d arrive at the station some time after midnight and then would have to wait until morning for another bus and yeah… I’ll make it work somehow, but it sucks.”

“And asking your parents to chip in for a taxi?”

“Nah, that defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.”, you replied with a sigh, “Plus I don’t think they have any signal at their cabin so they couldn’t even send it until they get back on the road home.”

“Maybe I could ask my brother to take you?”, the friend offered.

He listened to you ponder. The thought of you spending possibly a couple of hours with some other guy alone in a car was unacceptable.

“I can drive you.”, he heard himself saying.

“Hm?” Both girls looked at him when he turned in his seat, casually waving with his coffee, the ice cubes rattling softly as he did.

“I can drive you.”, he repeated, “I was planning to drive home tonight anyway (lie), so it wouldn’t be a problem to take you. You live close to Nakagawa, right? I have to head in that direction, too (lie), so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way (lie).”

“Uhm. Are you sure?“ You only ever talked to Sakusa for questions on notes or when you were too short to get a book down from a shelf at the library. You definitely weren‘t close enough that you would have felt comfortable asking him for a ride.

“Yeah, no problem. I have training tonight but it ends around 8 if that‘s not too late for you.“

“No! 8 is perfect! Thank you so much!“

You checked the clock on your phone for the third time in as many minutes. You looked around, grabbing the handle of your old travel bag with both hands and rolling back and forth on your feet.

It wasn‘t quite dark yet but the parking lot next to the gym was already illuminated by street lamps. The sky was a pretty blueish gray and the cicadas were busy telling the world that summer was not over yet.

You smoothed out your linen shorts and adjusted the tuck of your shirt. Deciding on an outfit appropriate for a road trip had taken way longer than it should have. Especially since Sakusa was only doing you a favor. It didn’t mean anything so there was no reason to overthink it.

Of course, it was unsurprising that you found him attractive. Half the class was crushing on the anti-social volleyball star and the other half was just slightly better at hiding it.

But when you spotted him in the group spilling from the opening gym doors a few minutes later, your heart stumbled despite your better judgment. Sakusa split from his teammates walking towards the bus stop and lengthened his stride when he saw you.

“Hey, did you wait long?”, he asked and led you towards a sleek black car that most likely cost more than your tuition. You shook your head No as he clicked a button on his car keys to open the trunk, neatly placing his gym bag inside and reaching out his hand to get yours as well.

Somehow, even though freshly laundered, your clothes looked dirty next to his. Aside from the questionable neon yellow and green of his old training jacket, flung onto the backseat, he looked like he was ready to go to a dinner party. His hair was still damp from the post-training shower (his teammates had shrieked in surprise when he joined them for the first time ever in “those germ-infested stalls“) and the car quickly filled with the refreshingly cool smell of his shower gel. It made you feel cozy and light-headed at the same time. It had you imagine for a split second, how Sakusa would take you for a ride after training to grab some late night ice cream and watch the city lights dance on the river while holding hands and talking in his car. The sudden rumbling of the engine pulled you out of your little daydream and you also may have forgotten to breathe when his hand came up to hold the back of your seat as he turned to reverse out of the parking lot. This was going to be a long drive.

Sakusa kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other was propped against his temple, his elbow resting on the door. The road was smooth and barely traveled once you got out of Tokyo traffic. Nakagawa was about two and a half hours south and according to his GPS your house was another 20 minutes further out. All throughout training he had tried to listen in on casual conversations his team members had with each other to get some kind of indication what smalltalk he could bring up but it was mostly concerning volleyball or workout routines or an extensive ranking of protein shake flavors - not much he could use with you.

“Cow.“, he said, pointing out the window to a ruminant-shaped blob that practically blended into the meadow with how dark it had gotten by now.

You followed his eyes and confirmed it was indeed a cow, then smiled politely and went back to selecting music on your phone.

Sakusa felt like an idiot. You lived in a rural town. Cows were nothing novel to you. So back to square one.

He tried a few different approaches.

“Are you reading anything currently?”

And thinking he wouldn’t exactly be interested in the fantasy romance series that was splashed all over your social media, you just shook your head.

Meanwhile, Sakusa didn’t want to readily admit that he had picked up the books after the fourth time you posted about them and even less that he genuinely enjoyed the story. He pursed his lips and just kept his eyes on the road.

“What does your family do?”, he’d ask a few minutes later.

“They’re apple farmers. They also make everything from cider to wine to applesauce.”

He nodded, trying to find an angle to keep you talking.

You on the other hand didn't want to “bore” him with anecdotes about what it was like growing up on a farm. So you fell silent once more.

Sakusa wondered if he was doing something wrong. Usually, when he snatched a seat near you in the lecture halls, you were very talkative and could easily hold a conversation - in most cases ending your stories on a completely different topic than where you started. It was one of your most ridiculously entertaining and endearing qualities that made him notice you in the first place. Who, after all, could ignore a girl that talked knowledgeably about autapomorphies of any given taxon and then wondered in her next breath if crocodiles had a concept of friendship.

“Do you… like food?”, he asked and resisted the urge to bonk his head on the steering wheel. He had meant to be a lot more specific but it worked!

You had frowned at him for a moment, then chuckled, then laughed and said, “Yes, I do enjoy food. How about you?”

“Half an hour to go.”, he informed you when he turned off onto a bumpy dirt road between two rice paddies. The past hour he had talked and laughed more than he had all semester and even though his voice was getting hoarse, he was disappointed that the drive was nearing its end. Sakusa winced when he hit a pothole in his attempt to miss another. The car shook. It really wasn’t meant for off-roading, but it soldiered on. Until it didn’t.

After a couple more hits from rocks and uneven terrain, the engine sputtered and then stopped.

“Huh.” Sakusa turned the key in the ignition once, twice but never got more than a - described generously - weak little stutter.

“I’m so sorry.”, you said earnestly, but at the same time tried to suppress a snort at his incredulous expression.

“It’ll be fine.” He plucked his phone from the holder on the console and began searching for car workshops nearby.

You waited patiently for the realization to hit.

“Oh.”

And there it was.

“Should have figured that there are no 24h auto shops in the countryside.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You two looked at each other, then broke into laughter, still giddy from your pre-pothole conversations.

“Looks like we’re walking.”

With a flourish, you opened the door and got out.

“Walking?” He followed your example and met you at the trunk.

“Yup!” Your village-born “get to work” attitude sprung to life when you waited for him to push the button so you could retrieve your bag, “We’re only a few minutes out of Nakagawa. We can walk there and ask for help. And if all else fails, we can at least find a place to spend the night.”

Spend the night? Sakusa felt his heart stop and then pump hard to make up for lost time.

You shouldered your bag and grinned.

“Let’s go!”

Holding your phones aloft to illuminate the pitch dark a little, you hiked along the dirt road, always switching between checking your next steps and zeroing in on the few town lights that dappled the not too distant horizon. You picked up the conversation where you left off and learned about his high school years and the team he used to play with. You yourself were part of the archery club at university and had played a bit of softball in high school. Sakusa was asking question after question, feeling relaxed whenever you talked for a long time. He listened intently as you recounted key moments from your childhood and the one softball tournament you played in your first year, how you got hit in the face by a curveball once and then decided that maybe a different sport would be more suited for you.

“Oh, don’t you wanna call your folks?”, you asked suddenly, when the dirt road finally turned to asphalt and a large sign announced the entrance of Nakagawa.

In the dim cone of light from your phone you saw him frown.

“Why?”

“Cause you said you were headed my way today to go home. They must be worried sick by now.”

“Oh.”, he averted his eyes and felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “No, they’re not.”

“Hmm, I bet they are.”, you smiled, then obviously got an idea, “Oh! Maybe they can come pick you up! Where do they live?”

“Aoyama.”, he said it innocently and quickly as if ripping off a bandaid.

“Ao- wait, isn’t that in Shibuya?”

“Uh huh.” He walked past you, reaching the still surprisingly lively main road of town, feigning interest in a pub to his left.

“That’s the north of Tokyo.”, you noted.

“Yes.”, he agreed simply.

Your stomach flipped. Of course you didn’t want to assume anything but if his behavior tonight was any indication then…

He turned around, ripping you from your thoughts. “We should find a place to sleep first.”, he said, typing on his phone, “And then we can grab something to eat.”

“Right.”, you said, still wondering if the puzzle pieces in your head fit together or if you were just delusional.

“Seems like it’ll be difficult to find two single rooms on such short notice.”, he muttered, scrolling, then standing next to you so you could check the screen as well.

“These are all double beds.”, you so keenly observed.

“Right.”, he said slowly. Your proximity made his head swim. “Then we should probably look somewhere else.”

“Right.”, you agreed, clearing your throat.

“Or we could book two double bedrooms.”, he suggested, his calm tone not matching the excited panic rising his chest at all. Sakusa really hoped you would say No.

Being quite a bit taller allowed him the privilege to have you look up at him with your big (e/c) eyes.

“That seems reasonable…”

Were you disappointed? He searched your face for any hint. You were fairly open about your feelings, carrying your thoughts on the tip of your tongue and heart on your sleeve. It was another entrancing quality he felt himself drawn to.

He didn’t want to be the pervert who pushed for sleeping in one bed. You might end up thinking he tricked you somehow.

“But-“, you began, biting your lip for a moment before continuing, “maybe it’ll be okay to share for one night?”

“Right…”

“Just if it’s alright with you.”, you hastily added.

An image formed in his mind. He was sitting on a freshly made bed, when the door to the bathroom opened and you stepped out enveloped in a cloud of steam. A towel would be tightly wrapped around you, not quite big enough to cover your curves - a slid on the side teasing more of your plush thigh. You’d sit down next to him, applying lotion to your legs and he’d be mesmerized by the little water drops still clinging to your skin. In his head you’d ask if he could help you with the lotion because you were worried your towel would slip and he was nothing if not helpful.

Back in reality he tore himself away from staring at your reddening cheeks and his finger hovered over the booking button.

“Y/n-chan?!” A booming voice from up ahead made you two look up.

A woman with a graying perm stuffed under a bright green bandana came up to you with determined steps, a wide smile on her face and she embraced you without hesitation.

“In town for your mom’s birthday, I guess? You’ve certainly grown a lot. Must be all that good food in Tokyo. You look more like your parents every day. I remember when you were still that round-faced little thing stealing strawberries from my garden!”, she tsk’ed her tongue playfully, “Is your brother coming, too? Haven’t seen him in a while as well, but that’s to be expected when he is always so busy. But you should make time for family at least. - And who do we have here? My, my. I don’t know the last time you brought a boyfriend home but he is certainly a handsome one, isn’t he? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even know where to start, feeling like most of her questions were rhetorical. And although you definitely wanted to tell her that Sakusa was certainly not your boyfriend, you also knew that that would bring on a whole new wave of interrogations.

“Sakusa Kyoomi.”, he just said with a deep bow and an even deeper blush on his ears which the night and warm lights from the surrounding restaurants gratefully hid.

Maybe he also figured it would be easier to just play along, you thought.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was just happy someone put the idea in your head.

The woman was only about half his height and took her time taking in every inch of his appearance, no doubt making mental notes to tell all her friends about it first thing tomorrow.

Your situation was quickly explained and the friendly neighbor just waved it off.

“Don’t worry, dearies. I can take you home, no problem. The truck’s this way.” You exchanged a look with Sakusa who just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. “Well, come on, you two. No one is getting any younger here.”

The beige banged up pickup was only a few hundred meters away. The back was stacked full of large baskets holding different vegetables.

“Don’t mind ol’ Momo, but I think you two have to squeeze in the back.”

“Ol’ Momo” was a giant white Akita snoozing on the passenger seat. He lifted his head when they opened the doors and only gave a deep tired woof as a greeting, his tail wagging lazily when the women scooted in next to him behind the wheel.

Sakusa tried his hardest not to touch anything. The backseat was covered in dust and sand and housed more big plastic colanders with precariously stacked daikons, still dirty from the field’s soil. If the car wasn’t his worst nightmare he would have greatly enjoyed having you so close to him. Your thigh was pressed against his and he had flashbacks to his little daydream excursion from earlier. He was still pretty disappointed that he was robbed of the opportunity, however miniscule his chance with you might have been in the first place.

Off the truck went. Of course more dirt roads meant more potholes but unlike his fancy city car the sturdy little pickup truck had no problems trundling along. Apparently in no need of an actual conversation partner, the neighbor just kept on talking, bringing you up to speed on how her fields were doing, what her sons were up to and gave an exact play by play of how her husband managed to strike a bargain on new seeds for the following year. You nodded politely or asked an occasional question to keep her attention away from Sakusa, while he watched you being thrown around like a ragdoll during more turbulent road maneuvers. He at least had the luxury to hang on for dear life on the grab handle above the car window. You, sitting in the middle of the backseat with a non-functioning seatbelt, either dealt with your bumpy fate or tried to steady yourself elsewhere. The truck’s cabin jumbled again and you jerked forward, barely holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. His arm shot out almost automatically to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Thank you.”, you murmured so the woman wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry, I know you hate touching people.”

“I don’t mind.”, he replied.

Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he unhurriedly let you go and looked out the window into the pitch blackness of the country night. Sakusa had forgotten how dark it could get without the constant neon lights of the city. In the reflection of the window he still saw you staring for a moment, then turning your head back to the front, answering some question of the neighbor. He stretched his fingers, your softness now seemingly imprinted in his memory.

Another minute or so passed before you were thrown forward once again. This time, his arm remained around you. “If you don’t mind.”, he said under his breath, “Just until the road gets better.”

You nodded slowly and robotically looked to the front again.

It was difficult not to milk this opportunity. Having Sakusa holding you close like this sparked all kinds of ideas of snuggling up against his broad frame, drawing patterns on his thighs and asking dreamily if he also thought spring was the perfect season for a wedding.

Sakusa hid a smirk behind his hand when your head lulled against his shoulder as soon as the truck reached a smooth road. He adjusted his seat so you would be comfortable and didn’t stop grinning until the truck pulled up to a farmhouse.

“There we are.”, the neighbor announced and then hushed her voice when she saw you in the rear view mirror, “Oh, look at that. Well aren’t you just the cutest love birds. You wake her up, I’ll get her bag.”

He really didn’t want to lose your warmth despite the remaining summer heat. You felt so perfect in his arms like this.

“Y/n.”, he said softly, “Y/n, you’re home.”

Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face he poked your cheek with his finger. No reaction. He poked again. You mumbled something and cuddled closer. His body was about to explode from cuteness overload.

His door opened. “No luck?”, the woman asked.

He shook his head and began to think. Making sure to pull you along with him, he stepped out of the truck and slid his other arm underneath your knees.

“Oh you’re not picking her up, sweet boy. You’ll break your neck trying to lift this one.”, she warned but Sakusa already brought you close to his chest. He would ask his trainer to add extra sets for muscle gain in his workouts from now on, but at this moment he was just way too satisfied with himself to carry you across the courtyard up the few steps to the front door. The cool night air made you stir in his arms. “Sakusa?”

“Great timing. Do you have the keys?”

art: @KUM07474_V on Twitter

a/n: so uhm, yeah this one just kept on going xD thank you so much for your request and continued kindness @melimelisworld, I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[angeljeonjk97]

BodyWork || Bell #1

Jungkook x reader

friends to lovers

18+ (fluff, smut)

warnings: mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol,

Jeon Jungkook is not the same 19-year-old boy you used to know. Fame has really matured him, in more ways than one.

“You already know how I like it baby”

You sit behind the desk of your dad's gym, playing a mobile game on your phone, waiting for the last person to leave before you can lock up. It was now dark outside, the entire sky was pitch black, not even a star in the sky. Your head jolts up at the sound of the male changing room door opening.

A tall, muscular man with jet-black hair and an arm covered in tattoos wearing a plain white t-shirt and black basketball shorts, emerges from the opening door.

He glances over at me behind the black-painted desk,

"Yo! Where's your dad?" he asks you, throwing a towel over his shoulder.

Jungkook is a famous boxer and has been for the past 5 years, and the gym that your dad owns just so happens to be where he trains. Your dad has owned this boxing gym for as long as you can remember and many professionals have trained here, but none for as long as Jungkook.

"Oh, he left already," You respond after realising you were probably looking at him for a bit longer than you should have, "Why?"

He casually walks over to the desk, leaning against it slightly to speak to you.

"He said he wanted to tell me something but, it obviously wasn't that important," Jungkook pauses before taking a sip from his bottle that rested in his right hand.

Your dad has always been the type to never wait around for anyone. He will do what he wants in his own time, without thinking of others most of the time. That's not to say he's selfish or anything but he can be quite... let's just say... assertive sometimes.

"How's training?" you place your phone down on the desk, placing your elbows on the platform with your chin in your left hand, looking up at Jungkook's muscular frame.

He scoffs, standing up straight to face you properly, he spans his arms out to his sides, with a cocky smirk on his face,

"I'm gonna win, so easily"

You roll my eyes and smile at his painfully obvious act. Despite his skills and how he hasn't lost a single match in the past 3 years, Jungkook is one of the humblest people you know. You both have known each other for 8 years and even though he's 26 now and is known pretty much all over the world, he hasn't changed at all.

He laughs at your response before getting closer to the desk again.

"You need help locking up again?"

"Nah, I should be fine," You reply, swivelling around in the black leather barstool, jumping down and pulling the keys from your pocket, proceeding to lock the cash register up.

"You got a lift home?" The black-haired man asks watching you as you walk from behind the desk and towards the changing room doors.

"I'm taking the bus home,"

"The bus? Why didn't you ask me to take you home?"

You turn your head to him behind you, flashing him a small smile.

"I didn't want to bother you, Kook, you've already worked hard today," you answer honestly, looking at Jungkook as you walk up the stairs. He follows behind.

"Oh come on. I've told you before to ask me if you need a lift home, buses aren't safe at night," He raises his voice a little so you can still hear him, "I'm driving you home."

You stop what your doing before looking at him with a disappointed look.

"Jungkook, I'll be fine-"

"No, I am driving you home," He cuts you off, crossing his arms across his chest. He goes silent for a bit as you don't respond to him before he breaks it again with a declaring tone, "I'm going to my car, if I don't see you in the passenger seat next to me in five minutes I'm dragging you out of here."

His voice fades as he begins making his way back down the stairs. You shake your head with a smile, knowing that you can't say no to JK.

After a few minutes, you make your way out of the gym, locking the doors behind you and pulling the shutters down afterwards. Before you turn around, you hear the sound of a car pulling up behind you. Of course, when you turn around it's a black Mercedes, that had Jungkook sitting behind the steering wheel. you open the passenger door seating yourself next to him, in which he sets off a few seconds later.

Once he parks up outside your apartment complex you turn to Jungkook,

"Thank you again, kook, but like I said, you don't have to be my taxi driver all the time. Someone might see you"

Jungkook shrugs back, his tattooed arm leaning against the steering wheel, "So what if someone sees me? It's not like you're in here giving me a blowjob or something"

You slap him on the arm with the back of your hand, giving him a disapproving look. He laughs back casually as these types of crude jokes are common coming from him.

"I'll walk you in," Jungkook says as he swings his car door open before you are doing the same.

Making your way up the stairs Jungkook remains behind you the entire time, looking up through the hole that the stacked up stairs, all leading to different floors, created.

Reaching your apartment door, you pull your keys out from your pocket, rattling them in your door, as Jungkook watches over you from behind.

"You coming in?" you ask looking up at him from behind innocently.

"Aw nah, not today y/n. It's late and I gotta be up early again tomorrow for training," He gives you a guilty look, glancing into your apartment, "I promise I'll be over soon though"

You give him a sad smile, remembering how much time he used to spend at your place with you. Because of his big fight in 2 months, he's been busy since the beginning of the year and hasn't spent as much time with you as you had liked, but you're not mad. You understand how tiring training can be, plus it's not like you two don't hang out at all anymore, you still make time for each other when it's possible.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then?" You respond, walking into your apartment and facing him again.

"Goodnight y/n"

index-next->

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note:

hiii, I hope you all liked this chapter. I know not a lot has happened but I promise it'll get better from here. This was just a little introduction to y/n and Jungkook's relationship and lore explaining. I'm so excited for this new fic so I hope you're all just as excited as I am. Please look out for when new chapters come out!!!

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Joshua x teacher!reader

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘saw the seungkwan x teacher!reader one and i loved it so much 🥹 could you please do one with joshuaaaa? w the same amount of fluff plspls and thank youuuu’

A/N: not sure how many more teacher!reader things I have in me, but I thought this one turned out kind of cute.

TW/CW: kids in general, along with brief mentions of marriage and starting a family.

Joshua, who totally has heart-eyes the moment he finds out you teach kindergarten.

He was already into you before. You’re pretty, and funny, and smart no doubt. But there is something so attractive to him about someone that’s good with kids. And he hasn’t seen you with any kids yet, but he can tell by the way your eyes light up when you talk about your work that you have to be good with them. He promises himself within the first five minutes that he will not fuck this up.

Joshua, who asks a million questions about your job.

What made you want to be a teacher? Why kids so young? What’s your favorite part about it? What’s the hardest part about it? What’s the funniest thing that’s happened? You lowkey feel bad after a while because you’ve done a lot of talking about yourself on this first date, but you won’t hear him complain about it at all. He even brushes it off, saying his job is boring. You scoff good-naturedly, because how good being an international superstar be boring???

Joshua, who volunteers to help you decorate your classroom.

It’s the middle of the semester, but the kids love when you decorate for the seasons. So you plan to take down all of the summery decor and replace it with fall stuff. He stands on the ladder to move around posters and meticulously staples individual paper leaves to your bulletin board. He has to stop and coo at some of the things in your classroom too while he’s there. The cubbies for the students’ belongings are so little and low to the ground for all of them to reach it. The tables and chairs are so low that it looks ridiculous when he sits down to make you laugh. And he loves your big, blocky, kid-friendly handwriting on the board, coupled with some messy kid handwriting near the bottom of the board that you don’t erase.

Joshua, who loves to hear about your day.

He could have flown all around the world this week and he does not care to talk about it for long. He wants to know what games you played with the kids at recess or what songs you taught them to memorize things. He even wants to know what kind of little kid arguments you broke up today. You tell him it’s just business as usual, but he’s totally fascinated by all of it. What gets to him is the ease with which you seem to address any of it. You say it’s just kid stuff, but it gives him heart palpitations sometimes.

Joshua, who volunteers last minute for a field trip.

One of your parent chaperones bailed last minute and you’re scrambling to find someone else to meet the student to adult ratio required. When you look a little teary eyed that you might have to cancel the trip, he’s simply bailing on his plans for the next day to join you. You scold him because his work is important, but he’s insistent. He can miss a single day in the studio.

Joshua, who is so good with your students that it makes you heart-eyed.

He’s exceedingly patient, helping you get coats on all of the kids and taking them to the bus. He’s also incredibly gentle if he has to call one of them down for standing up in the seat on the bus. He holds up the back of the line, good-naturedly guiding stragglers back into the group. You cannot believe he went on and on about how good you are with kids when he’s just like this with zero training. After all the kids are picked up or on the buses at the end of the day, he gives you a confused look. ‘What? Did I do something?’ You smile and shake your head like you aren’t already planning the day you marry him. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

Joshua, who takes charge of making little gifts for your students for the holidays.

He comes over to your apartment with a box piled high with little gift bags. You’re confused because you both already agreed not to trade presents this year. ’It’s for your students.’ You go wide-eyed, picking up one of the bags. Inside each one is a cute little handmade bracelet. Each bag is individually labeled and you have no clue how he memorized all of your students names in just six months. ‘I had to make some assumptions about what size each needed to be, but I have some extras if they don’t work.’ Your jaw is on the floor. ‘Where did you come from?’ Joshua turns a little shy because he doesn’t really know. He’s been so invested in this relationship from day one that he kind of forgets what came before it.

Joshua, who has a ring ready for when the time is right.

He knows it’s kind of early, but he knows a good fit when he finds it. He doesn’t know how you feel about having your own kids, but he finds it doesn’t matter much to him. Not when he knows that you take care of 20+ five year olds day in and day out. He thinks it’s a testament to how good of a person you are. Kids seem to know when you wear a mask, but they love you. He does too, he just has to find the right time to say it.

[girlbloggersfolly]

DELTA DAWN - part 1 // Camp Woodrow

Pairing: camp counsellour!joel miller x camp lifeguard!afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (not yet but it will be) 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: (1979 summer camp AU) After making a spontaneous trip northwest to a summer camp in need of staff with a few new friends, you find not everyone is so welcoming.

Chapter warnings: age gap (20 + 49), a whole lot of me waffling, extreme slow burn enemies to lovers ect ect ect, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, complicated relationship (not joel and reader.. yet), perv!reader, f!masturbation. absolutely NO use of y/n, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, and she can swim duh. This chapter is very tame, basically, just setting it up.

a/n: ok wow this is exciting, first chapter done and i'm pretty happy with it. Just a warning, i really mean it when I say slow burn, there will be no fluffing around at alllllll for a couple chapters, i'm not sure where i'm taking this or how long it will be, i'm thinking maybe 4? anyway enough chatter there'll be enough of that in the fic, if your reading this i love you sooooo much!!!!!!!

Camp Woodrow 1979

The Knack blasted from Sharon’s stereo, smoke plumed from Billies Joint, you’d been driving for a night or so. Mid-morning sun streamed through the windows, it was a brackish heat you had been getting all too used to. You’d met Billy, Sharon and Abel in Salt lake city at a gig, and now you were pleasantly stuck with them for the rest of summer. The drive from Salt lake city to Oregon was long, even longer in Sharon’s dads Buick which hadn’t seen the inside of a mechanic’s since 71’. The three of them had been working at Camp Woodrow each summer since they were, what was it? 15? Somehow they’d managed to persuade you to pack up your whole new life of groupie love and tour buses into a beat up Buick, taking the scenic route up to Oregon for a long, stagnant summer of campfires and controlled water sports, organised fun. You’d made the mistake of mentioning to Sharon you had lifeguard training; there and then it’d been decided you’d be the perfect replacement for their good friend Woody, who usually took the role of Lifeguard in camp, he was off in L.A, having made a name for himself in adult film. It was a long story you’d heard each salacious detail of. 

It’d been a total coincidence, meeting the three of them. You’d let some girlfriends drag you to a gig in a shifty basement venue (Billies band’s place (who weren’t nearly the legendary group they thought they were)) and had been… charmed by Billy… You’d fucked, he was just okay at it but he was easy on the eyes, knew a good dealer and it was cool to tell people you were fucking a hotshot ‘rock star’, even if he was less than generous in the bedroom. Soon you were fast friends with the whole group of them, groupies and all. So here you were, head in Billies lap, high off the broken sun on your face and second hand smoke, his hand drumming along to Doug Fieger’s voice on your bare stomach. You’d hitched a ride in Sharon’s dad’s car with her, Billy and her ‘it's complicated’ Abel.

“Are we there yet?”

Billy coughed through a cloud of smoke, yellow tinted sunglasses making him look all the pretentious rocker he wished he was. 

“Can you open a fucking window, do you know how hard it is to get that smell out these seats?”

Sharon said through agonising chomps of that wad of gum she’d had in her mouth since they’d driven through Boise. Billy cranked open the window. The hideous thrum of wind on the highway beating through the static air of the car. Your hair whipped around furiously and you sat up, stirred from the holy-half-high state. 

“Happy?” Billy said over the obnoxious sound of the engine and the wind. Sharon scoffed loudly over the sound. “I asked when are we going to fucking be there.” He spluttered yet again over his joint, smirking at you while he complained like a child to a very frustrated Sharon. “It’s just down the next turn,” He said, looking at the map in Abel’s lap, he was more focused on the magazine in his hands, you peaked over his shoulder, a sexy nun, the big, hot pink letters ‘TEASE’ haloing the cover.  

“We’re lost,” Billy hit his head back against the window, gosh he could really be a baby sometimes, you remarked internally, increasingly tired of the whole ‘Billy’ thing, a sticky situation you’d gotten into. The car broke into complaints, Sharon, searching frantically for the inconspicuous turning and little wooden sign to Camp Woodrow, stationed at the mouth of lake Calgonie. They’d eagerly shown you their collection of polaroids from the camp in the first few hours of the drive. It was exactly as you’d imagined, a classic all-American summer camp, straight from a gnarly slasher flick. 

“Motherfucker!” Sharon retaliated triumphantly as she manoeuvred the cranky old Buick down the sharp dirt road turning Camp Woodrow 500 yards. Bullseye. The road was almost too narrow, lined with unruly trees, leading up to the clearing in the dense foliage. Billy threw his joint out the window, stretching so his shirt rode up, showing off that lean torso that he was so damn proud of, flashing you a movie star grin. You tucked your hair behind your ears, putting your chuck taylor’s back on after the drive. You knew you all stunk of weed and BO.

 The car came to a pained, screeching halt in a makeshift parking lot. There were two cars parked in the other ‘spaces’, you noticed a blue Ford F-100 pick up, covered in mud and dust, your dad had one of those. Sharon let out a suggestive moan as she stretched, slamming the door behind her so hard you thought it might fall off. You all followed after her, Billy’s arm over your shoulder proudly, as if he was the one who’d just driven for 10 hours instead of whining the entire drive. You told yourself to just get over it, the summer was too long and too hot to hold onto this strange resentment you’d been harbouring for him as of late.

“Hey Abel! Sharon!” You heard from behind you, spotting a man you hadn’t seen before. He was shorter and well built, had a groomed moustache and lustrous black curls. “Tommy!” Sharon squealed, The pair embraced. You took the chance to get acquainted with your surroundings, turning away from the reunion to the woods behind you. Beautiful, it really was. You were a city kid, a suburban mole, so any chance at kindling some kind of a relationship with nature had you jumping at the opportunity, even if it meant dealing with children - Billy included. Trees as far as you could see, as high as you could see, the air clearer than you’d known it in the weeks you’d spent with these stoners.

“You remember Billy,” Abel said to Tommy, motioning to the boy next to you, who waved in his wanton fashion; too cool to put any effort into something as taxing as a wave. “Of course,” Tommy put his hands on his hips, it was hard to forget Billy. “And who’s the lady?” Tommy grinned, sauntering over, offering his hand to shake. Before you could introduce yourself, Sharon did it for you, telling him your name, which he repeated to himself. “She’s Woody’s replacement… lifeguard.” Sharon added, showing you off like an action figure. You fiddled with the hem of your denim shorts absentmindedly. “Ahh, lifeguard,” He had a firm handshake, making polite eye contact, you knew you’d get along with him. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m super excited to get started.” You said warmly, the words falling from your mouth in something like a croak, you realised you’d hardly spoken for the entire drive, absorbed in tireless thought. Tommy clapped his hands together and turned to Abel and Sharon, then back to you and Billy.

“Well the kids are coming tomorrow, so, should give y’all time to settle,” He gave a little talk, friendly, he was what a camp manager should be, what you expected him to be. It immediately settled you, but the dead weight of Billy’s arm on your shoulders, tying you to him, was a constant jarring reminder of the mess you’d got yourself into with him.

The path to the camp staff cabins was a pretty one, scenic, you listened to your own steady breaths merging with the sounds of the forests. Billy walked ahead of you, his own suitcase swinging as him and Abel laughed their way into their own cabin. Separated by gender, convenient for yourself. Sharon lit a cigarette and grabbed the bottom bunk. You guessed it was so she could sneak Abel in and fuck him a little less conspicuously.

You sat on the top bunk, staring up at the damp ceiling, smoking a cigarette and listening to Sharon tuning a little radio, she cursed over the static.

In the evening you and Sharon decided to take a walk, leaving the boys to turn their cabin into a gas chamber, the forest stunk of them. “C’mon Lifeguard,” Sharon taunted, grinning at you through her cherry chapstick-ed lips. You took it all in, the forest, which opened up to Lake Calgonie.

“Holy shit,” You breathed as you stepped out onto the dock, the sun was setting over the trees, casting a vibrant orange hue over the lake. Your trance was broken by the click of Sharon’s Polaroid camera, the whir of the picture being processed. “It’s something, huh?” She nodded, somewhat proud of the landscape. “This is-” You started, unsure of the right word for how you felt, a little stoned from earlier, weary from the drive, muscles aching, brain heaving from the whole Billy thing, in complete awe of the situation you were in, impossibly, fucking happy. “Is it deep?” You turned to her, realising she was taking a picture of you. Click, Whirrrrr.

She fanned the two polaroids for a bit, tucking them in her bra, a trick she’d giggled about a few weeks ago. “Yeah, gets pretty deep in the middle,” She shrugged, more absorbed in the development of the polaroids she’d taken of you. She noticed the curious, awe-struck look on your face.

By the time you and Sharon returned to the camp the fire was blazing, crackling pleasantly, Billy, Abel, Tommy and an older lady. “Now, I know it wasn’t you two dumbasses who got the fire started,” Sharon landed the playful jab as she planted herself on Abel's lap, announcing her arrival the way she always did, her laugh echoing through the forest. Billy shuffled up to make space for you on the log, his arm around you in seconds, you were sure that that fucking arm would break your damn shoulder soon from how much he rested there. 

“Hey where’s Joel?” Billy asked suddenly. You were only half listening, now the fully developed polaroids were being flashed at you; it was you looking over your shoulder in candid surprise, engulfed in the flashlight and the rich sunset from behind, like a deer in the headlights. “Well what’s he doing in his cabin?” Billy said loudly with a cocky chuckle.

You tuned him out, letting your brain run away with itself, watching as the older woman examined the polaroid that Sharon was passing around for admiration. “Beautiful ain’t she,” Sharon quipped, shooting you a playful wink as she peered over the older woman’s shoulder at your picture. Tommy poked at the fire, blowing at it expertly, so this was the country man. “Oh, this is Lou by the way,” Tommy nodded towards the bright eyed older woman, “She’s one of our senior camp leaders, and our chef,” He said with a tight smile towards you, clearly the introduction was pointed. It was dark now, the faces of your friends and acquaintances lit up by firelight, illuminated in the orange. 

“Hey I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You whispered to Billy, waiting for him to direct you. “It's between the weird tree, with all the branches, remember? and the bigger Cabins, showers there too.”

It was the first time you’d been alone for a couple days. As much as you were charmed by your fast friends, a long lonesome walk to the john was very much needed. Abel’s lighter, you'd borrowed one night from his coat pocket, clicked to life in your hand, the small flame lapping at the cherry end of your cigarette as it hung between your lips. You walked slowly to prolong your time alone, admiring the trees, listening to the forest by night and the gentle padding of your sneakers across the dirt.

After relieving yourself in the makeshift hut you wondered if you could even call a ‘bathroom’, you wandered as slowly as possible down the path, blowing plumes of smoke into the still night, feeling the trees sigh around you. You imagined what your parents were doing right now, sitting in their condo in Cedar city, probably off to bed. You rarely thought of them anymore. 

You were brought to a standstill by one of the larger cabins, you took a drag of your cigarette and stood watching the window. You suddenly felt like a complete peeping tom; a man appeared in the window, not a man, a wife-beater clad god. He paced up to the edge of the room, giving you time to properly take him in; a quality of moustache you’d only seen in porn flicks, a soft, yet muscular torso, paired with arms that looked like they could snap Billy in two. You let the cover of nightfall mask the growing warmth on your cheeks. He stretched, wife beater riding up to reveal the unruly outline of a happy trail. Jesus christ. He was older, that was obvious enough, late forties? early fifties? You tucked your lips into a thin line, gazing at him, feeling like one of the fucking creeps you so often complained about and really not caring.

“Who is that guy?” You mused to Sharon back in the cabin, as she went through her skincare regiment in the janky little mirror, your limbs draped down from the top bunk like a fancy throw rug. “What guy?” She said, the tube of moisturiser taking up her full attention. “I ran into this guy when I went to pee? Moustache, in his forties, maybe fifties?.” You were like a teenager again, batting your eyelashes up at the ceiling. “Joel?” She cooed, turning to face you abruptly, clearly she had the same idea, you’d pulled her attention now. “You met Joel?” She seemed very impressed by this, but met was a strong word, you’d watched him in his cabin for a minute or so. You suddenly felt like this was something you shouldn’t have done, for whatever reason, maybe it was that sultry look in her eye all of a sudden, the accusatory tone in her pouty mouth. “Mhmm” You hummed warily, sitting up to look down at her from the top bunk. She scoffed, massaging her skin “Joel’s Tommy’s big brother, he runs the camp with him, total hunk right?” She teased. It made sense, Joel had looked like his brother, taller you thought, a little rougher around the edges. “How come he wasn’t at the fire?” You pictured him in his cabin, all alone. You now remembered Billy asking for him earlier. “He’s not the biggest fan of um, Billy and Abel, caught them sneaking in these girls, y’know, getting high a couple years ago, but they were like 17, like he’s had it out for them for a while.” This story didn’t come as a surprise, you imagined a young Billy and Abel getting caught smoking pot with girls by the lake. “It’s really only thanks to Tommy that we were allowed back, Joel would’ve gotten rid of them a while ago, wouldn’t’ve been outta line to either,” Sharon rambled on, all you could think about were those broad shoulders, the curve of his aquiline nose, it was a perverted stereotype you didn’t mind filling, young girl absolutely taken by an older man she most definitely could not have. “It’s a shame, he’s so fucking hot,” Sharon said as she pursed her lips, applying a healthy amount of lip balm to her pout. 

Camp LIFEGUARD t-shirt on, little red running shorts that covered next to nothing, chuck taylors to match, another pair of Billies big brown sunglasses on your nose, you were every bit the summer camp lifeguard. Tommy had your lifeguard certificate and paperwork, breakfast had been a breeze, it was all ready. The kids were arriving in the afternoon, so you had the morning to scope the place out alone, leaving Sharon with the guys and taking the path to the lake.

The lake was invigorating as you dipped your toe through the strangely still surface, chuck taylor’s, socks, shirt, glasses and the little metal whistle all bundled into a polite little pile on the edge of the dock. You sat down, taking a deep breath and splashing your feet gently in the water, the tiny ripples lapping back at your calves. It truly did feel like a movie to you, clad in that red, lifeguard swimsuit, hopefully catching some sun.

The morning was pleasant, if a little humid. As warm as it gets in the pacific northwest, you basked in the quiet of the lake, sliding slowly into the water. It was eerily calm after the recent chaos that had become your beloved life. 

You hadn’t swam leisurely in a while, not in a lake for even longer. You avoided the silty bottom by pushing off immediately to the middle, planning to test just how deep this lake was. It was strangely clear, you could see the bottom for a while, but as you swam out, below you it was just your flailing limbs treading in the dark blue. The hum of a boat engine broke the trance you’d been under all morning, snapping into consciousness as a small speedboat made its way around the lake, right up close to where you were treading water. You hadn’t seen it from the dock, hadn't noticed any waves.

 It came to a quick halt, splashing water in your face. “Motherfucker” You spluttered as you spat out lake water. You wiped your eyes and shielded them from the sun to see who this obnoxious, nautical asshole was. He looked down at you, crouching, silhouetted by the sun. 

“You shouldn’t be swimming without a lifeguard.” As your eyes adjusted to the bright light you identified the asshole: Joel, your blood ran colder than it already was. You could see him better now, dark glasses on, those sun kissed forearms, his slightly sun bleached STAFF t-shirt, that low, southern voice still unbearably charming, pouring over you like molasses even when he was being cold.

You realised you were staring and looked to your left at the dock. “Sorry, sir,” You started, hoping he’d appreciate the formality, “I am the lifeguard,” You grinned up at him with a saccharine bat of your eyelashes, really trying to appeal to the sexiest man you’d ever seen. He was still staring down at you in the water, sunglasses giving away nothing.

He let out a short scoff, obviously not amused. “Well what happens when you drown?” He said coldly, he did not seem at all charmed by that killer grin you flaunted so well, so you let it drop ever so slightly. Maybe you couldn’t kill him with kindness? “No lifeguard out to save your ass,” He looked down at you pointedly, still crouched beside you like you would’ve done with a kid that dived in a no dive pool. 

“I’m a strong swimmer.” You cocked your head, he scoffed again, shaking his head in casual disbelief. You were too absorbed in working out whether he looked more like Burt Reynolds or Tom Selleck. “I don't care how strong’a swimmer you are, missy,” He retaliated quickly, your lips parted in slight surprise, you weren’t used to people being even slightly unpleasant to you, thanks to your people pleasing.

“I'm sorry?” You said in the wake of your surprise.

“Look, lifeguard, I’m gonna ask you to strongly swim back to the dock right about fuckin’ now,” He stood up to his full height chuckling at you in that southern baritone, again darkened to a silhouette by the sun. You remembered how good his muscular body looked in that wife beater, his goddamn broad shoulders, then pushed the thoughts from your brain, it was fucking embarrassing, you batting your eyelashes and grinning at him like he wasn’t reprimanding you.

After hastily making your way back to camp, a complete state, your cheeks annoyingly hot with embarrassment and a sinking feeling that you could only call ‘horny’, you caught up with the rest of the guys. They’d somehow got the radio set up and were sitting around it outside the boy’s cabin like moths to a light, Buffalo Springfield was playing softly, the sound slightly subdued, broken by static every so often.

You leant on the wall beside them, trying to collect yourself after whatever the fuck that was. “How's the water temp, sugar,” Billy landed a light slap on your ass. You couldn't even look at them, afraid to see your own flushed reflection in their tinted sunglasses. “Tepid.” You heard yourself say absentmindedly. You knew two things for sure, Joel was an enigmatic pain in your ass; another to add to the ever growing list. The other, he had you wrapped around his little finger, you hated yourself for it, but hated him more. “I need a dart,” You sighed, keeping your eyes on your feet as Billy lit your cigarette.

The kids arrived intermittently once Abels casio read 15:00, hoards of them, and quickly. Bumbling groups of girls and boys, completely feral. You silently thanked god that all you'd be doing was watching them, making sure none of their little heads stayed underwater for too long, leaving the morale-boosting, camp spirit stuff to your friends and the other staff. Luckily no water sports on the first day, so you were free to lounge around without worrying about some kid dying on your watch.

You sort of wished you had a way to get your mind off the whole Joel thing, it really shouldn't have gotten to you as much as it had. But there was something about the whole thing, something simply despotic about the way he looked down at you, ordering you about, it fucking jarred you all afternoon, distracting you even from Billy’s hand on your ass.

The next time you saw Joel that day he was with a few kids, a couple suitcases tossed over his shoulders, a big grin on his face as he spoke to them, it wasn't mocking, wasn't charged with some quick-witted comment that he’d make sure really stung, it was paternal, sweet. You don’t know why you thought he’d be cold to everyone.

Damn kids didn't know how good they had it as he made them laugh, beaming with child-like enthusiasm. “Who’s that?” You asked Billy quickly, as if you didn't know full well who that was, as if he hadn't been the only thing on your frazzled, embarrassed mind. Billy scoffed, watching Joel just as intently as you had been. “That’s Joel Miller,” he said that name with more passion than you’d ever heard him put into anything, “Him and I don’t get along so well, sweets,” He nodded, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at these pet names he’d been experimenting with. You tuned out the rest of Billy’s moaning, regretting even asking him, the phrases ‘Grade A asshole’ and ���hypocrite’ were tossed around quite senselessly. 

You needed a shower, everyone did but you weren't going to be the one to tell them that. With a crispy towel in hand and Sharon's flip flops you haphazardly made your way through the dark forest, the kids all in their cabins, staff eating round the campfire. Sharon said she'd meet you there in 20, at least one other person in this damn place knew when they needed a shower. The shower shack was something you’d have to get used to. Even in the abysmal water pressure, even with the ceiling completely caked in cobwebs occupied by creatures you really did not like the look of, the hot water was balm. It washed the smell of the lake off of you, and the dizzying BO you’d gotten used to in the last few days, cleaned off that lingering scent of pot from your skin.

You sang quietly to yourself, an Elvis song that'd been stuck in your head all week. “Your kisses lift me higher,” you scrubbed yourself with the ratty bar of soap you’d found in Sharon's wash bag, the song falling out of you at an increasingly enthusiastic pace, volume rising as you let the water infiltrate your scalp.

“I just might turn into smoke but i feel fine,” Billy was not an Elvis fan, never had been, but that didn't stop you from humming along every time he entered your brain. You heard another shower start and Sharon getting in, not for one second stopping the music falling out of you. You weren't a particularly gifted singer, but in the shower that never mattered. After singing the song countless times you turned off the water. “Just a hunk’a burnin love,” You hummed, the cool night air causing your skin to goose pimple, your nipples to harden as you wrapped your body in the itchy little towel that really didn't do much to cover you up. 

You lit a cigarette as you stepped out, deciding to wait for Sharon outside the showers as she’d instructed earlier, admiring your reflection in the clouded mirror, wiping them clear. “Hurry up, fuckin’ cow,” You chuckled, raising your voice over the sound of the shower that was still going. Like a spell, it stopped, for once she was feeling nice.

"‘Bout time,” You giggled as you combed through your hair with your fingers, cigarette hanging precariously from your lips. You didn’t look away from your reflection as you grabbed your toothbrush from the pocket of your shorts which lay in a little discarded pile beside the sinks. “It's like being at The Westgate, Las Vegas,” The familiar voice chuckled, that condescending comment about your spectacular rendition of Elvis’ ‘burning love’ going right over your head in favour of utter shock and realisation, which hit like a ten ton truck.

You practically spun on your heels to see a smirking Joel Miller shirtless, a towel slung carelessly around his hips. The wind was knocked out of you as you let your eyes linger on his torso, just how fucking built he was, beaded with water, his chest sprinkled with hair matching that on his face. Holy shit. 

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, hugging the towel tighter to your body, scooping up the toothpaste you’d jetted all over the sink from squeezing the tube in your state of shock. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. “Thought you were Sharon,” You said shakily to the sink as you washed the toothpaste from your fingers, your voice now lacking the confidence it’d possessed when you called Joel Miller a ‘fucking cow’. You felt like slamming your head through the mirror right about now, not daring to check if the heat that had spread across your cheeks was visible. “Thought you were Elvis,” He quipped, ever the witty bastard, pulling out a small razor and some shaving foam, clearly he was planning on staying. 

You took a drag of your cigarette to pull yourself back to earth. “You make a habit of sneaking up on girls in the shower?” You heard yourself say, like your mind hadn’t turned into that of a perverted teenage boy after you saw him last night.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” So he knew he was hot shit, standing there more naked than you were comfortable with in that moment, that towel doing very little to distract you from the fact he was right there, all of him, rubbing shaving foam on his jaw. “You're too old to be talking like that,” you said coldly through your dead-pan, the biting words lacking the fire you intended for them. He chuckled slightly, his low voice almost a growl, reverberating through you as you attempted to squeeze your toothpaste onto the toothbrush without making another mess.  “Definitely Billy’s girl,” He said to himself as he held his razor up to the light.

Now that was too far, you turned your face to him, lips parted into a half-hearted scowl as you watched a couple droplets fall from his hair, you held on to the little towel for dear life. “What's that supposed to mean,” You shook your head in disbelief, that had truly been a low blow. “Well you are ain’ch’ya?” He shrugged, bringing the razor to his cheek, you said a silent prayer to god that his hand would slip. “No,” You said after a moment's hesitation. Billy wasn’t your guy and you certainly weren't his girl, he was a friend you sometimes, reluctantly let hump you until he finished. “He know that?” Joel scoffed, suddenly very talkative, you hadn't expected that from the authoritarian asshole who’d scolded you this morning, now a scintillating asshole. “Seemed awful comfy this even-” You cut him off quickly. “It's none of your business Joel,” you snapped, turning back to look at your glassy reflection.

This man would be the death of you; all of this, and now another mouth to ask you about Billy. “Billy’s a prick,” Joel said casually as he shaved his face, it almost startled you, the first thing you agreed with him about. “Aren't you perceptive?” The sarcasm rolled out of you, prompting another of those short, patronising chuckles from Joel.

“What's the appeal then?” It was a good point, why did you hang around with Billy when you could admit that the kid was a complete dickwad. Was it those looks? the way people seemed to gravitate towards his obnoxious laughter? It was all embarrassingly shallow.

“We hang in the same circles,” You shrugged, now completely absorbed by watching Joel shaving so expertly, still hoping your prayer would be answered. “Is he a good fuck?” Joel asked brazenly, not looking away from his own cold expression in the mirror as he cleaned up his moustache, your breath caught in your throat and you stamped out your cigarette on your ratty sneakers to disguise your prudish shock.

The answer was no, a dead no, no matter how much he thought he was. “And there's another thing that's absolutely none of your business,” You began brushing your teeth, glancing at him to see the telling smirk on his lips, that was all he needed to know. 

After a much needed break in the conversation you spat out the toothpaste, holding your hair back and running the tap. You turned to leave with the pile of clothes in your arms, you’d rather’ve taken the short journey to your cabin in the little towel than spend another damn second in that room with Joel fucking Miller. “Hey, kiddo,” Joel interjected casually, you turned to look at him with an obedience that made you sick.

“Next time you find yourself peepin’ on me in my cabin, just knock on the door.” 

You huffed an exasperated, short breath as you slammed the door to the cabin behind you, happy that Sharon was nowhere to be seen. You changed, cursing Joel under your breath over and over and over again as you pulled one of Billy’s ‘Supertramp’ t-shirts over your wet head of hair. That motherfucker! Where could you even start?

He’d seen you watching him. He’d known all day that you stood in the treeline in the unassuming disguise of nightfall, smoking as you’d watched him get ready for bed. He’d called you ‘kiddo’?! you groaned as you curled yourself into the quilt on your top bunk.

You guessed that Sharon was banging Abel in the next cabin, Billy had probably passed out from a long day of doing absolutely nothing. No matter what you thought about to get your mind off Joel; the image of him shirtless and dripping wet, his quick retaliations, nothing helped. You counted sheep, sang ‘Burning love’ a couple more times through, the shame just didn't wear off. He’d gotten the better of you today, catching you out at all the right moments, embarrassing you over and over again.

Finally, after stalling what you knew would be your only relief after a day like this, you let your hand venture under your panties, touching yourself gently at first, ego too bruised to allow yourself what you really wanted. Soon you were practically crying his name into your pillow, back arching desperately. You’d broken into a slight sweat, lips parting quiet ecstasy as relief washed over you. 

You made the decision then and there, it was sink or swim, you weren't going to let today happen again, not let your epic, man-eating reputation be stamped into the dirt  by some old washed-up cowboy with an ego for days and some strange Tom-Selleck-esque power over you.

You were going to become Joel Miller's worst fucking nightmare. 

PART 2

[lemoncrushh]

Write You A Song - Sneak Peek

COMING SOON...

Summary: Harry Styles is just a regular guy with a regular job. A little dispirited and down on love, he finds comfort in the small things like the moon, his morning coffee, and stopping at the local bodega. When the cute girl who works behind the counter starts to inspire his poetry and songwriting, he soon grasps a new outlook on life, and eventually finds a way to open his heart again.

Based on this request from @fkinavocado.

A/N: This will be a series, though I'm not sure yet how many parts. Probably not a long one though, but definitely more than just a few chapters. This is an AU obviously, with an OC. This will be lhh, sometimes beardrry, sometimes with glasses, sometimes with a man bun :). He also smokes, at least at the beginning, so just wanted to put that out there in case that's a dealbreaker for you. If this sounds like something you'd like to read as I post, please let me know and I'll add you to a taglist.

SNEAK PEEK

Caught up in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t see her until he was at arm’s length. She sat alone at the bus stop, the pitiful light barely giving enough glow for her to read the book in her lap.

He had seen her before. Many times in fact, though he did not know her name. She worked at the bodega near his building, next to the bus stop there. He wondered what she was doing on this side of town. Quickly putting out his cigarette, he approached her.

“Hello,” he said flatly as he took a seat next to her on the bench.

The girl gave a short nod and a mumbled hi before actually looking up from her book. When she did, her eyes blinked, and Harry caught the corners of her mouth curve upwards. “Oh, hey.”

Harry started to open his mouth again when the girl quickly returned to her book. Clearing his throat, Harry shoved his hands into his coat pockets. He considered asking her what she was reading, but decided against it. Some people don’t enjoy small talk, himself included.

Soon, the bus arrived and Harry climbed on after the girl, taking the seat across from her. At this time of night, the buses were fairly empty. He spotted a young couple a few rows ahead, and two more passengers near the back. On evenings like this when he closed the shop, it was rare to see more people than that.

He wondered what the girl was doing out this late. Surely she wasn’t going to the bodega. It was much too dangerous for a young woman to work such hours. Perhaps she was going to visit a friend, or a boyfriend. Or maybe she was returning home from doing so. That was probably it.

Harry pulled out a small notepad he kept in his inside coat pocket, along with a pen. He began to jot down a few words that described the moment, all the while sneaking glances over at the girl. She was still very content reading her book. He was just about to get up the nerve to ask what was so intriguing when the bus came to a halt. Nearly smacking his head against the seat in front of him, he cursed under his breath, returning the pen and notebook to his pocket. Then just as he was about to rise from his seat, the girl grabbed her backpack and stood in the aisle. Harry followed her down the bus steps and onto the curb. When he saw her heading for the bodega, he hurriedly caught up with her.

“You work tonight?” he asked, his words hanging in mid-air like his breath.

“What?” she turned, startled. “Oh. Yeah, I do.”

“That’s not right,” Harry frowned.

“Excuse me?” she chuckled.

“I mean…it’s late...”

“And that’s when the crazies come out?” she finished, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Well…” Harry hesitated. “Yeah. It’s kinda dangerous, don’t you think?”

“It can be,” she sighed. Harry noted the way she shifted her weight to the other hip. “But…I’ve worked here long enough that Manuel trusts me. And I’ve been trained on what to do in dangerous situations.”

Harry couldn’t help but cringe. He didn’t like this one bit. “Is anyone else working with you?”

“Not yet. Manuel leaves when I go in, but Jared comes in at midnight.”

As the girl started again for the store, Harry instinctively walked beside her, grabbing the door before she could.

“Thanks, Harry, for your concern,” she smiled. “But I’m a big girl. I’ll be okay.”

Stepping into the bodega, she made a beeline for the back of the store. Harry heard her call out to Manuel that she had to use the ladies’ really bad, but would be right there. Gazing at the display of Valentine’s cards and heart-shaped candy boxes, Harry groaned.

He thought about sticking around to make sure she was okay, but when he paid for a pack of gum and she still wasn’t back, he decided to leave. He didn’t think loitering was wise with the manager giving him the eye.

When he turned the corner to enter his apartment building, Harry stopped, a notion finally dawning on him. She’d called him Harry. How did she know his name, but he didn’t know hers?

MASTERLIST

[cielcreations]

Ending 5: Made With Love (Dead Plate)

Trigger Warning: Cannibalism at the very end. Also a bit of mature content. Nothing too graphic, just grinding, but it's still there so if you don't like, ignore.

"Oh, wow, you actually showed up for training." The man said in a deep, gruff voice.

"On time, too!" The energetic man smiled.

"Barely." He sighed, putting one hand on his hips, "This is a highly sought after position, Rody. Be grateful you're even getting the benefit of being told how to do your job. Your resume showed many... many jobs in the service industry, so I assume you already have this down." He sighed again, "Though, I am choosing to ignore the rate at which you got new positions."

"Hey! Having 28 service industry jobs over the course of seven years is pretty impressive when you think about it, Vincent!" Rody smiled sheepishly.

"And even less impressive when you think about it for five more seconds." The chef groaned, crossing his arms over his chest, "But with those jobs, you likely already know how to seat customers. Keep in mind how many people are dining. You don't want a large group crowding around a private area. Once they're ready, they'll put their menu down and you'll go check on them."

Rody grabbed a menu, reading through it, "'What we're serving today?'" He read aloud, questioning.

"Yes, patrons don't pick what they eat, instead we have a strict menu that changes daily." Vincent narrowed his eyes, "You would know that if you read the interview."

"I, uh, skimmed it..."

"Hm." The chef hummed, unimpressed, "Once you have their meal ticket, bring it to the marker between the window and the door, that'll send it to the kitchen. The cooks will start working on whatever order you have right away, but keep in mind they prioritize cooking the dessert, side, meal, and appetizer. In that order. Do not pester or distract any of the cooks if it's taking too long. Once the order is ready, you'll find it at the window to then serve to the customers. They'll ask for more after their appetizer, so do not make them wait too long. Once they're ready for the bill, go behind the counter to check them out. Once they're done with their meal, make sure to clean their table. I don't want guests thinking we leave messes out in the open. The garbage is in the kitchen, right next to the back door. Take the trash and bring it out to the alley behind the kitchen to throw it out."

"Got it!" Rody nodded, taking it all in.

Vincent then took a menu and handed it to the redhead, "Here's a menu. Make sure to study it. Now that you know the basics, make sure you do a good job. I don't want our customers thinking we're anything less than professional."

"But, I'm not-"

"Exactly." Vincent waved him off, "If you need me, I'll be in the back. Good luck."

With Vincent in the back, Rody cleaned off the tables and began his shift. He made sure to seat and smile at the customers, taking their orders and sending it off to the chefs like it was nothing. He cleaned and bused the tables, making sure to take out the trash when needed. He mainly kept his head down the first day, that way he wouldn't get in any trouble and Vincent wouldn't feel the need to either yell or fire him for messing up.

He finished cleaning the last table, washing the dishes, and taking out the trash one last time.

"Rody." Vincent called.

The redhead stiffened a bit but turned around, "Yes?"

Vincent held out a plate, "Green Onion Rolls."

Rody stared at the plate, "...What about them?"

The chef sighed, "Take them home. We had leftovers, the food is for you."

"Really?!" Rody exclaimed excitedly, smiling, "Thank you! Do we have a to-go box or something?"

Vincent looked around. He took an empty box and slid the plate inside it, "It's not a to-go box, but it will make do."

The redhead smiled at the chef, "Thank you, Vince!"

He then went back to his apartment. Once inside, he sat on the couch, reaching for the phone. He dialed her number, waiting. When all he got was the phone ringing, he sighed. Guess she's busy. He thought. He opened his box and stood up, walking to the utensils drawer. He took out a fork, eating the Green Onion Rolls.

"Wow!" Rody exclaimed, smiling brightly, "I'll have to thank Vince again, these are amazing!"

He ate them all and went to bed.

***

"Sorry I'm late..."

"'Sorry?'" Vincent repeated as he turned around, slowly looking up from his papers, "Sorry doesn't cut it, it's only your second day and you're already-" He stopped himself, eyes widening as he finally faced Rody, "-Why do you look like that?"

"I, uh, thought biking through the rain would dry me as I go..." Rody explained, standing on the porch as he squeezed the water out of his shirt, "Turns out? It soaks you faster."

Vincent took a deep breath. He grabbed Rody's wrist, dragging him inside and to his office.

"Sit." Vincent demanded, the redhead doing so. The chef took out two towels, wrapping one around Rody's shoulders, using a smaller towel to begin to dry off his hair, "Dry off. You can't be seen by customers looking like this."

Rody hugged the towel more around his body as Vincent continued to dry off his hair.

"You do know umbrellas exist for a reason, yes?"

"I don't own one!"

The chef widened his eyes, pausing his movements. He seemed to process the words before continuing to help dry him off, lowering the towel to the back of his neck, "I'll give you mine for the ride back. Make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Oh, uh, thanks! But-" The redhead tilted his head back to look up at Vincent, "-how are you gonna be getting home without it?"

"I live here."

"...Like, in the restaurant or-?"

"My apartment is upstairs." He pushed Rody's head down, continuing to dry it.

"Oh." The redhead blinked, "That makes a lot more sense now."

"Is there a problem." Vincent asked, the last word a bit harsher than the rest.

"Nah, it's just... isn't that worrying?" Rody looked up again, "Like, if something happens to the building, it's all gonna be gone."

Vincent dropped the towel on his face, earning a squeak, "If you have enough time to talk nonsense, then you're ready for work."

Rody laughed and moved the towel off his face. He quickly dried the last little bits of his hair and smiled at the chef, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. It's only appropriate. I can't have customers thinking I find that acceptable."

The redhead nodded and folded the towels, placing them on Vincent's desk, "Well, still, thank you."

He walked out of the office and readied himself for work before seating the first people who walked in. He seated everyone, took their orders, served them, cleaned the tables, and checked people out, being able to balance it out very easily. Eventually, when everyone had left, he took out the trash, throwing it away in the back alley before coming back inside. He saw Vincent, staring at the chefs, walking over.

"Hey, Vince, can I ask you something?"

"It's Chef." Vincent corrected.

"Right, uh, Chef, can I ask you something?" Rody once again questioned.

"I doubt you have this much free time to be asking me so many questions, on your second day, no less."

Rody ignored his quip, "Why do you just stand back here?"

"My job is to observe and monitor the chefs. They are to cook my dishes to perfection. If they are to even slightly stray from the way I would cook, I must step in." 

"No wonder your food is so good!" The redhead smiled brightly.

Vincent didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow.

"Your food was delicious! I've never tasted something so good! It filled me up and made me crave for more!" The redhead giggled, "No wonder you're an amazing chef, your food makes me feel warm inside!"

A light pink dusted the chef's cheeks as he looked away, "...Get back to work, Rody."

The redhead giggled and nodded, going back out to the dining room. He continued on with his work, seating people and taking their orders once more. After another few hours, his shift ended. He finished cleaning what he needed to and got ready to leave.

"Rody, wait." The redhead turned. Vincent walked over, offering his umbrella as well as a small box, "Inside is Blueberry Crepes. You said you liked the food I made, and there was extra. Here."

The redhead smiled brightly, "Awesome! Thank you, Vince!"

Vincent merely nodded in response. With the chef's umbrella and the food in his hand, Rody went home. Once he got back to his apartment, he once again sat on the couch, looking at the phone. This time, he was a bit hesitant with calling her. However, she once again didn't answer. Guess she's still busy. Rody thought. He changed into his pajamas before sitting on the couch to eat the crepes. He hummed, smiling brightly. They were so fluffy and light, making him smile as he ate the entire plate.

Vincent is such an amazing chef. He thought, smiling slightly, ...So considerate too...

He put the dirty dishes in the sink before laying on the couch to fall asleep.

***

The shift started out normal. He seated who needed to be seated, took the orders to the kitchen, served the food, checked them out, and bussed tables. He was beginning to make very decent tips and was extremely upbeat and happy with his progress. Eventually the trash got full and he had to take it out-

"Ow!" Rody exclaimed, looking at his hand, dropping the bag, "C-Crap-"

"Rody."

The redhead turned, facing Vincent, who was staring at him. He turned panic, "I-I'm sorry! T-There's something i-in the trash!" He looked at his hand, "I-I think it m-may have ripped the b-bag open w-when I dropped it a-a-and-"

"Rody." The chef repeated, taking a step forward.

Blood spilled from his palm, a large cut on it, "I-It cut me! I-I swear, I didn't throw a-anything I-I wasn't suppose to, I-I'll clean it up-"

"You don't need to worry about that. Let me see." Vincent said gently, face remaining calm. He gently took Rody's wrist in one hand, spreading his fingers with the other to see the damage of the wound, "It's a shallow cut, nothing too serious."

"I-I'm sorry-"

"Hush, Rody. This way."

"But the mess-"

"I said you don't have to worry about that. Someone else will clean it." Vincent turned to face the chefs, two immediately jumping to do so. He then led Rody into his office, sitting him in a chair as he carefully applied ointment to the redhead's hand, "You can't be serving customers with this."

"I-I'm really sorry." Rody looked down as Vincent wrapped his hand.

"Accidents happen. It's alright."

"Am I fired?"

"Was this intentional?"

"N-No, of course not-"

"Then there's no reason to be fired." The chef reassured, "Is that why you got freaked out?"

The redhead remained silent.

"Your silence speaks volumes." Vincent stood up, "Stay here for a moment. Collect yourself."

"I-I can-"

"Rody, I'm not asking." The chef interrupted, "You are a little shaken up. That is fine. I can handle the customers for a few minutes. In the meantime, collect yourself. It's alright."

Rody stared at the man before smiling gratefully, "T-Thank you."

Vincent nodded in response. He walked out of his office and Rody sat for a few minutes, calming himself down from his panic attack. When he felt he had calmed down enough, he left the office. He went out to the floor, where Vincent had just finished giving an order to the kitchen.

"I'll tag in!" Rody exclaimed, offering a high five.

The chef rolled his eyes, but let out a small chuckle, gently tapping his hand against the redhead's, "Good. You're feeling better. I'm terrible with customers."

"Never would have guessed." He said sarcastically.

Vincent chuckled once more before disappearing into the kitchen. Rody finished his shift and cleaned everything up. Once he was sure everything was ready for tomorrow, he went into the kitchen to bid his goodbyes. Vincent gave him a plate of Squid Ink Pasta with Shrimp, Rody thanking his profusely. He went home once more, sitting on the couch. He stared at the phone for a minute.

Should I call her? Rody thought. He hesitated but did. He dialed in her number and, with every passing digit, he couldn't help but hope she... wouldn't answer. He didn't want her too, which felt odd when a few days ago, he would have begged her to answer his calls. When she didn't pick up, he sort of sighed in relief. She must be busy. He sat back into the couch, taking a bite of the pasta.

Rody smiled brightly, eating the entire portion, "Man, I totally have to get something to properly thank Vince for all this delicious food!"

He watched a little TV before falling asleep.

***

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Rody wasn't sure what he walked in on. He was working his shift and was bringing in some dirty dishes to take out the trash when he saw Vincent standing in front of another cook, glaring with such hate and malice.

"I-I apologize, Chef-"

"A 'sorry' doesn't fucking cut it, now does it?" Vincent hissed, accenting his words.

Rody shut the door behind him, not wanting customers to hear as he watched the scene.

"Do you think a dish like that is at all acceptable in my kitchen?!" Vincent gestured to the plate.

"N-No, Chef-"

"Then why did you make it?!"

"I-I don't know, Chef, I m-must've-"

"'You don't know?!'" Vincent raised his voice, his burning hate becoming more pronounced in his voice.

"I-It must've slipped my mind, Chef!" The cook managed to squeak out, "S-Some flour had been left near the stove and I-I didn't want to get burnt-"

Vincent put the man's hands behind his back. One of the Chef's hand held the cook's arms in place as the other grabbed the man by the back of his hair. He then shoved the man's face towards the burner stove, keeping it out of reach of the flames, the man squeaking, Rody gasping.

"Don't back talk me in my own fucking kitchen, you damn pig." Vincent growled, "If you plan on being a semi-decent cook, you have no conceivable reason to be scared of something like a stove. If you get burnt, you keep cooking. If you can't follow simple safety regulations, it'd be your own damn fault."

The cook gulped, whispering out, "Y-Yes, Chef."

"I can't hear you."

"Y-YES, CHEF!" The cook yelled.

Vincent hummed. He lifted the man back up and let go, "Get the hell back to work." He demanded before turning. His eyes met Rody, the redhead staring with... awe.

Vincent walked to the back corner of the room to once again watch the cooks, Rody moving to stand beside him, "What? Are you going to tell me how what I did was wrong?"

"Are you single?"

"P-Pardon?!" Vincent exclaimed, his composure breaking. He coughed into his hand, quickly regaining it, "W-Why do you ask?"

Rody giggled, smirking, "Was wondering if that's how you treat your lady~!"

"I-I beg your pardon?!" Vincent's composure broke once more, his face turning bright red.

The redhead laughed before he waved his hand around, "I'm teasing, I'm teasing!" He giggled, "I mainly ask because I wanted to know a bit more about you! You must be a ladies man, right? With owning your own restaurant and all?"

"I-I suppose I am..." Vincent cringed.

"So, do you plan to settle down? Maybe have a wife and some kids, hire a manager to run the place?"

"...This is me settling down. I do this for myself."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"What?"

"Are you single?" Rody hummed, smiling.

"...Yes, I am." Vincent admitted, "And no, I don't wish to have a wife."

Rody widened his eyes a bit, "...You bi or something?"

"If you must know, I label myself as gay." Vincent blushed, "Are you satisfied with knowing my nonexistent love life?"

"Yep!" Rody stood in front of Vincent, winking as he smiled slyly, "Cause now I know I might have a chance!"

Before Vincent could respond, the redhead quickly moved to clean his dishes and get back to work. He finished his shift and went to the kitchen. Vincent had a proper to-go box ready for him, the Chef giving it to him and turning away, face still a light shade of red. Rody giggled, winking once more before leaving. He got home and opened the to-go box.

Strawberry Shortcake.

The redhead happily ate the food before turning on the TV. He then grabbed a magazine that was dropped off with the daily newspaper. He browsed through it and looked at all the ads before he widened his eyes. Oh, that's it! That's what I need! He thought. Rody shut the TV off, grabbed a marker, and circled it before laying down on the couch.

He looked at the phone. He reached out before stopping himself, shaking his hand as he closed his eyes.

She's probably busy, and I don't care. Rody thought, falling asleep.

***

The next two days were uneventful in terms of work. Rody and Vincent continued to talk between shifts when they could, the redhead smiling every time and standing a bit closer each time they did talk. Vincent didn't seem to mind. In fact, his stiff posture was loosened as they talked. His shoulders would slump, he wouldn't look so stern. He still tried to maintain a blank face, but he couldn't help the occasional smile that fell on his lips. Rody was sent home with a Croque Madame and a Lemon Tart the previous two days, which he ate and made sure to praise Vincent for.

However, the third day, Rody went into the kitchen and Vincent wasn't there to give him a plate of food. In fact, Vincent wasn't there, period. He looked around, even knocked on his office door. The Chef just wasn't there. He sighed. Granted, he wasn't owed any food, but he did appreciate the food and he did want it, simply because he loved Vincent's cooking.

No matter, he went home and got changed, beginning to think of what to order offline. However, the phone started to ring.

Rody answered, "Hello?"

"Rody?" The deep voice on the other sighed asked.

"A-Ah, Vince!" The redhead cleared his throat, smiling, "Hi! What's up?"

"Are you free tonight?" Vincent asked.

"Huh?" He blushed.

"I'm hosting a dinner party at my apartment and was checking if you're available."

Oh, that's what you meant. Rody thought, frowning a bit, "Yes, I am..."

"Good. Be here in the next few minutes. Oh, and, I..." Vincent trailed off.

"Vince?"

"I apologize."

"For what?"

"I... I disappeared before you came into the kitchen and I wasn't able to give you a plate of food. I apologize."

Rody smiled, He remembered? "It's fine Vince-"

"No, it isn't. I... I like cooking for you."

The redhead blushed, "...Well, I like eating your food."

"Good, you'll have plenty of it tonight."

Vincent hung up and Rody chuckled. He put the phone down changing to a more casual outfit before going back to the restaurant. Vincent was waiting outside, the chef holding out his hand to the redhead. Rody was confused and placed his hand on the Chef's. The man gently intertwined their fingers and led Rody inside the restaurant. The redhead blushed as he was pulled along up the stairs and to Vincent's home.

"Wow, this place looks..." Rody took everything in, from the bright red couches and loveseats, to the triangle coffee table, to the cow hide rug they stood on. He smiled awkwardly, "No offense, but stick to being a chef."

"Excuse me?"

"Wait, I thought you said this was a dinner party?" Rody changed the subject, "Where are the other people?"

"They will arrive shortly. I-" Vincent looked away, "-wanted you to get here first..."

Rody blushed. Vincent led him to the couch and had him sit before leaving to the kitchen to grab some plates. When the Chef returned, he was balancing three plates; a plate of escargots, a cheese plater, and deviled eggs. Rody smiled brightly and happily took a couple of eggs and a bit of cheese, smiling brightly as he ate. Vincent smiled softly as he watched other.

"Your food is so good!" Rody smiled brightly, "I could eat it forever!"

Vincent smiled, "I'm glad."

Before they could continue, the doorbell rang. Vincent sighed before he stood up, going to the door. He allowed the people in, Rody watching as the people came in. He stood up, the people coming in and beginning to mingle. The redhead, feeling nervous and out of place, moved to stand in the corner as Vincent left to get some wine and champagne for everyone. The redhead stood to the corner, looking over the rewards Vincent had gotten.

"Is that-? Hey, Rody!"

The redhead turned around. A tan man with dark brown hair walked over, smiling brightly.

"Uh...?"

"It's me, Richard!"

Rody stared.

"From econ? College? You were majoring in hospitality, right?" The man offered.

"Oh, y-yeah, hey!" Rody exclaimed, "S-Sorry, college is kinda... fuzzy, I guess?"

"I stopped seeing you after awhile, did you switch majors?"

Rody stiffened a bit, before smiled awkwardly, "You must be thinking of someone else."

"Huh? No, it was definitely-"

"Not me. You're thinking of someone else."

"I could have sworn-"

"You're thinking of someone else." Rody hissed before stepping away, "I need to piss."

"Huh, wait, Rody-"

The redhead pushed passed the man, going into the kitchen. He went into the kitchen and then into the connecting hallway, walking down it. He pushed the door open and walked inside, closing it behind him. He leaned his back against it, sighing and shaking a bit. Rody took a deep breath and looked up before gasping.

"O-Oh, crap, this is not- wait..." Rody blinked, staring at the scene in front of him, "...This is Vincent's room... I wonder if I can find anything interesting!" He giggled.

The redhead looked around the room. At the back corner, there was a desk with some paperwork. It looked like it was for the restaurant, but the handwriting was barely eligible. He hummed before he looked at the typewriter, seeing Vincent must've been typing out recipes. The shelf beside the desk was filled with books and the Chef's diploma was resting on the top. He walked towards the bedside table, opening the drawer.

A key? Oh, the freezer key! He thought, putting it in his pocket. He closed the drawer and turned towards the window.

"Looking for anything specific?"

[TW: Mature part here. Again, it's just grinding, but still, don't like, don't read.]

"AH!" Rody turned around, seeing Vincent, "Ah! Vincent, you scared me!"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I-I, um, was looking for the bathroom?" Rody smiled awkwardly, shrugging.

"Uh huh?" Vincent stepped closer, Rody stepping towards the window, "And when you realized this wasn't the bathroom, you didn't leave?"

"Well..." He trailed off, "Would you believe me if I said I had short term memory loss and got distracted?"

"Not a chance." The Chef chuckled, now in front of him.

Rody smiled, one hand dancing on Vincent's shoulder, "Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to get to know you on a more personal level?"

"That's more believable. But I would think you're crazy." Vincent placed his hands on the redhead's hips.

"Didn't you already know that?" Rody teased, leaning towards him as his arms wrapped around Vincent's neck.

Vincent leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to the other's forehead, then his ears, then his neck, "Yes, but I don't believe I know the extent."

Rody shivered as the Chef kissed and sucked at his neck, "W-Want to find out? H-How crazy I am?"

"More than you know." Vincent pushed his leg between Rody's.

The redhead moaned as he leaned into him. He glanced out the window and widened his eyes. He gently pushed Vincent back.

"Is something the matter? Did I-"

"S-Someone's out there."

[End of Mature part.]

Vincent stared at the redhead for a moment before looking out the window. He narrowed his eyes and sighed, looking at Rody, who stared at the shadow of the figure, "...Why don't you go home?"

"Oh, uh- w-wait, what about the party?" Rody looked at the other.

"It's over. It was more of a work related party. Marketing and such. You just made it more bearable." Vincent offered his hand, "Come, I'll see you out."

Rody blinked before he smiled, nodding, "S-Sorry about f-freaking out."

"It's only natural. I'll deal with it." Vincent reassured.

They walked to the front door of the restaurant, where Vincent stopped. He shut the door behind him as the two men stared at each other. Rody hesitantly leaned forward, Vincent following his lead. It was a small kiss, nothing to major, but it made the redhead's heart burst into butterflies as they kissed. When they pulled back, Rody smiled brightly and blushed at the Chef, who smiled softly back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rody."

"See you tomorrow, Vince."

***

Rody came into work the next day, heart racing, a smile as bright as the sun resting on his face, butterflies fluttering in his stomach and chest. He set up the tables and did all the cleaning he needed to before going into the kitchen. He didn't see Vincent anywhere. He walked to the Chef's office and knocked, hearing no response. He was confused before remembering the freezer key in his pocket. He was curious as to what's in it...

He opened the freezer door and walked inside. Rody looked around it, seeing blood. It wasn't too abnormal, it was from the animal meat.

At least, that was the assumption.

Rody saw something sparkle. He turned his head to the meat grinder. He blinked, walking towards it and picking up a golden locket. He widened his eyes, opening it to see...

Him.

Him and her.

Him and Manon.

"What..."

THUNK!

***

Rody fluttered his eyes open, confused. He was bound in ropes, laying on the freezer floor. He blinked and looked around, not bothering to struggle. His lip quivered as he curled into a ball. The door opened and he looked towards it. He managed to sit up, glaring at the Chef.

"Get away from me, don't come any closer, you-"

"Stop, stop." Vincent cooed as he cleaned a sharp looking knife, "Calm down, you don't have to be doing any of that."

"WAS IT ALL A LIE?!"

The Chef widened his eyes, staring down at Rody.

"All that flirting?! All that bonding?! I-I actually thought y-you liked me..." The redhead's tears began to fall, despite how hard he tried not to, "Y-You played me! I-If you were just g-going to kill me to get to Manon, w-why didn't you just do it?!"

"What are you talking about, Rody?!" Vincent yelled, swinging his knife down, "I was never going to kill you to get to her! I told you before, I have no interest in women! What would be the point?!"

Rody blinked, "...T-Then... why do you have the locket?"

"I forgot to throw it away after I killed her. A simple mistake, honestly." 

The redhead blinked again, "So then... the blood? The meat?"

"Was from her. I was going to make you a dish and-"

"Is it done?"

Vincent widened his eyes, staring down at Rody. The redhead stared up at him, green eyes wide in wonder and awe.

"Vince, is it done?"

"...Pardon?"

"I wanna taste it, is it done?! Please tell me it's done! I want it!" Rody smiled brightly, crawling forward, "Please!"

"You... want to taste it...?"

"Of course!" The redhead giggled, leaning into the Chef's legs, "It's your food! You're gonna cook her so well! I-Is it going to be smoked?! Grilled?! Boiled?! What sides are you going to serve with her?! Are you going to serve all of her?! Oh my fucking god, Vince, you have to tell me!"

Vincent knelt down, cupping Rody's cheeks, smirking deviously, "Are you that desperate to eat her?"

"No, it's not about the fact that it's made from Manon!" Rody leaned into the Chef's hand, smile manic, "It's the fact it's your food. I don't care what you cook for me, you could server me horse dong and I'd still eat it!"

"I would never serve you that-"

"The point is-" Rody interrupted, leaning forward, brushing their noses against one another, "-I will eat anything you make me. I want it. So bad. Your cooking makes me feel so warm. It makes me feel so good. I want it so bad, I need it. I need your cooking more than I need to breathe, please-"

Vincent shut the other up with a kiss. Rody moaned into it, kissing back as the Chef cut the ropes around him. The redhead wrapped his arms around Vincent's neck, moving to sit in his lap as he deepened the kiss. Vincent held Rody's hips as they pulled away, the redhead smiling brightly down at the chef.

"How are you going to cook her?" Rody asked, giggling.

Vincent cupped his cheek, "Let me surprise you."

***

[TW: Cannibalism part here. You don't miss out on a lot if you don't want to read.]

Rody sat on the bed, swinging his legs as he hummed a tune to himself. He waited patiently (okay, not patiently, but he still waited!), barely able to control his excitement. The doorknob twisted and he smiled brightly as the Chef walked in, a plate in his hand.

"Is it done?!"

"I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't." Vincent chuckled at the redhead's eagerness. He offered the plate, "Dinner is served, Coal-Fired Heart."

Rody smiled brightly, accepting the plate. He took his fork and knife, cutting into the meat. Once he had a small piece, he put it on his tongue, chewing slowly, savoring the food.

"Well?" Vincent cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb across it.

Rody smiled brightly, genuinely, lovingly, "Amazing as always, Vince."

Vincent smiled, "I will cook for you for the rest of our days." He kissed Rody's forehead.

"I'm holding you to that." Rody giggled, taking another bite.

[quarantineddreamer]

Posting a snippet from the winner of the badly-summarized WIP game!

Winner was: "beep beep. get in, bitch we're going strangers to roadtrip buddies to lovers 🚘"

As soon as Jyn was certain Cassian was capable of operating a manual and driving on the left side of the road at the same time with a reasonable level of competency, she tore her eyes from the road and pulled out her phone.

Jyn: So…remember how my flight got canceled?

Not a minute later her phone buzzed against her thigh, Cassian briefly looked in her direction at the sound–it may as well have been a scream in the silent car–but made no comment. 

Bodhi: No trains, no buses, yeah I remember. Did you manage to find a car?

Jyn: Sortof 

She watched the dots dancing as Bodhi typed, pictured her friend frantically tapping away.

Bodhi: Why are you being vague? Wth does that mean?

Bodhi: What did you do

Bodhi: Call me.

Jyn: Can’t right now

Jyn: But it’s not what you think. I haven’t backed out…

Jyn: I hitched a ride with someone

Bodhi: CALL ME 

Jyn: Bodhi relax

Jyn: I’m fine

Her phone started to vibrate in steady repetition in her palm, a picture of her and Bodhi atop Arthur’s seat (taken during his recent visit) glowing up at her. With a twinge of guilt she hit the ‘reject’ button perched just to the left of her friend’s cheesy grin.

“You can get that if you need to,” Cassian commented lightly, eyes still fixed on the road. 

“I don’t,” she replied quickly, tilting her screen away from him despite the fact he had made no move to even glance in her direction.

Jyn: I told you I can’t talk rn

Bodhi: Who tf did you get a ride with

Jyn: Bodes. Deep breath. 

Jyn: All is well.

Bodhi: See you say that but…

Jyn: I’ll call you when I can

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, ran her thumb over a small crack, and with a sigh continued typing.

Jyn: How is he?

Bodhi typed for longer than he needed to, likely debating what to say. 

Bodhi: Just call me when you can.

Jyn locked her phone and set it face down in her lap. 

But it gave another insistent hum.

Bodhi: Also share your location with me

Bodhi: And a pic of whoever ur with

Bodhi: So I know who to hunt down if you disappear 

Shaking her head and huffing a soft laugh she did as he asked and shared her location. 

Bodhi: Thx

Bodhi: Pic?

Jyn: Not happening

Bodhi: JYN

Bodhi: Don’t make me blow up your phone rn

Bodhi: I’ll do it

Bodhi: You know I will

Bodhi: Watch me

Bodhi: Isn’t this annoying??

Bodhi: Hello

Bodhi: I

Bodhi: am 

Bodhi: Waiting 

Bodhi: :) 

The three dots appeared again, unapologetic and unrelenting. 

Jyn: For the love of god stop. fine. 

Jyn: one sec

Fuck. She looked over at Cassian, face flashing in and out of gold and shadow as they passed under neighborhood street lamps, winding their way to the motorway. For some reason the sight made her stomach give a nervous flip. “God damn it.” 

“What?”

Apparently she was beginning to lose her filter–because this wasn’t awkward enough as it was. “I didn’t say anything,” she lied, turning swiftly towards the window to study the houses they passed by. Their quaint windows–just beginning to show signs of life as the earliest morning workers stirred and started their day–revealed no solutions. 

Her phone began to vibrate incessantly again. 

“Are you sure you don’t need to get that?” Cassian asked, this time throwing her a quick glance. 

Jyn wiped clammy palms against the knees of her jeans and resigned herself to her fate. (Bodhi could be nearly as stubborn as her when he wanted to be, it was best just to appease him and get it over with before things got any more humiliating.) 

“It’s my friend,” she explained. “He’s asking for a photo of you.”

“In case I’m an ax-murderer?”

“Not comforting that came so easily to you,” she quipped, “but, yeah, pretty much.”

“Makes sense.” Cassian appeared decidedly unbothered as he leaned over the steering wheel, craning to see around a blind corner before making his turn. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.”The car swung wide, and Jyn swallowed her embarrassment, raising her phone to quickly snap a pic. Without bothering to check her recent messages she fired it off to Bodhi with the caption “Happy now?”

[pupintransit]

Well, had a shit day at work yesterday so didn't take any pics like I was hoping I'd be able to 🤷 Feeling better today tho. I'm actually on my way to buy some gaffs at a local place, so trying those one will be a lot of fun! One of them is a thong too, so look forward to that~

Speaking of gaffs - I've got one on right now!

It's comfier than the clip for everyday wear, and I haven't needed to adjust it. Bus seats were also, ehm, not great when I had the clip on, or on the rare occasion I used tape. Not so with what I've got on now! I'm as comfortable as usual on crowded transit, which is impressive seeing that buses and trains in the greater Vancouver area can get pretty jam packed!

If you need a brand recommendation I highly suggest TomboyX. I got the XL tucking bikini, and it feels like regular tight briefs. I don't really feel like i'm hiding a sausage between my legs, which is more than I can say for tucking with tape!

(and yes i will be taking slutty photos with it. why even ask such a silly question)

[amarantine-amirite]

Many Crappy Returns

Some skinny bitch walked up to the seat by the planter with the red cyclamens, leaned over, and gave the person sitting there the stink eye. "You can't sit there," Crista told Phyllis.

"Why?" Phyllis asked, cocking her head to one side in annoyance.

Crista gestured to her date, "Because Kevin's sitting there!"

Phyllis couldn't help but notice how Kevin doesn't seem particularly interested in anything. "Kevin doesn't look like he cares where he sits," she remarked, "And besides, I like this spot."

Phyllis had several reasons why she liked this seat. It's up high, It's got the most purple flowers in the acrylate tabletop, and it's one of the first ones the custodial staff cleans, so it's clean. Not wanting to get into a dumb argument, she ignored her. Crista stormed off in a fit while Phyllis ate.

It should have ended there. It didn't.

Months later, Phyllis embarked on a cross-country move. She already felt a bit nervous about the move. Things had a habit of going wrong when she travelled. To her, travelling meant staying in the homeless shelter because somebody forgot to book the hotel. It meant having trips cut short because bosses refused to respect vacation time. It meant injuries to her back and shoulders from carrying all the luggage because the hotel lacked somewhere to store it.

And this was with family. Going anywhere by yourself is way harder.

Phyllis had no choice. Her mother got held up at work creating copies of the companies financials written in IPA, forcing Phyllis to go by herself. Her mother planned to meet her at the new house. Phyllis had a year and a half to go before she could legally drive, but her Mom still expected her to load up their crap and drive it down there.

The night before, she had stayed up all night listening to music because the thought of moving across the country made her anxious. This made her too tired to drive, so she booked a last-minute flight.

This would turn out to be a spectacularly awful decision. All of their stuff got lost. She maxed out Mom's company credit card. Same-day airfares are already pricey even before you buy two seats because their planes have a greater-than-average number of tiny seats instead of the standard amount of normal-size seats.

She didn't even get to the new house. The plane made an emergency landing because the airline went bankrupt! It forced Phyllis to take the train the rest of the way.

Getting to the train station was a challenge in and of itself. No cab would take someone under 19, forcing Phyllis to lug what was left of her stuff onto three buses, two of which got detoured, and walk 20 blocks the rest of the way.

She didn't make it up halfway to the entrance to the parking lot when she heard someone say, "It's you!

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Phyllis panted. She barely had enough energy to get to the train.

"Yes, you do." Crista barked as she approached, "Why can't you just do what's asked of you?" she said as she put her left hand on her left hip.

Phyllis groaned. "If this is about taking your boyfriend's seat at the food court, it's because your request was stupid and petty," she stormed off toward the parking lot.

Crista quickly caught up. "No, you're stupid and petty," she shouted.

Phyllis stopped dead, put her stuff down, and gave Crista what for. "Listen, I have an eidetic memory. I do not remember a sensible reason for me to give up my seat for your boyfriend when there was a perfectly good table right across from you."

Crista reached out to put her hand on Phyllis' shoulder. "I can't remember means I can't remember. I can't remember selectively is a little bit different," she condescended.

Phyllis flinched, "I am not selecting memories. You're a bully and you know it. And with that, I'm leaving". She picked everything up and marched into the parking lot of the train station way faster than she did before running into Crista.

Crista chased after Phyllis. "You can't leave!" she shouted.

Phyllis didn't even look back when she shouted, "Why the hell not?!"

It didn't stop Crista from overtaking her. She looked Phyllis in the eye and sneered, "Because I said so bitch!"

Phyllis shook her head. "You can't control me like that," she retorted

Crista nodded and flashed a shit-eating grin. "Oh yes, I can. nothing can stop me. Noth-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence. She had taken a couple of steps back right into an open manhole.

Phyllis folded her arms and stood there like a winner. "I guess nothing can stop you but an open manhole" she chuckled.

[alexbkrieger13]

So yesterday I went to see Barça because I was in Barcelona and eventually we will play them so...

Entertaining game if you like goals, that Granada (former Barça player) golazo was amazing and what to say about Pajor and CGH's connection.

Nice environment, nice prize, nice seat and visibility, nice everything minus the transportation to come back home which came 30' late. It's in a small city near Barcelona but trains, buses and trams on Saturdays at that time have you waiting for hours.

Only thing to highlight: the refs are so bad. So is the lineswoman. Literally called more than 3 wrong offsides, disallowed a rightful goal, missed 1/2 pens and almost NEVER called a foul against Granada.

Claudia Pina came out crying because they battered her. Alexia, CGH, Pajor received less kicking than her and it was rough to see honestly because apparently she has been taking beating after beating since the league started.

Btw, many people on twitter will love that 10-1 result for their farmer's league theory. IMO France is even worse than them due to the null competition and open market between both top competitors (Chawinga, Karchoui, Mbock...). What people don't see is that yes Barça were dominant but:

1. Granada's GK was the back up one because of injury of the starter

2. Barça had lots of starters there while Granada maybe didn't as much

3. They only got promoted last season

Liga F doesn't invest, RFEF doesn't care about looking for sponsors, camera work pitch installations and refs are shit because of no money, lots of people are close minded (I got called a "dyke bitch" by some drunk men and moroccan teenagers)

Basically that league is alive thanks to Barça's investment which has lead them to winning that small ass money prize that is UWCL, the president doesn't care and neither does RFEF. RM invested and bought Tacón to match Barça and other clubs started from the bottom, one can only wish a miracle happens and competent people are put in important places to FUCKING DO SOMETHING.

The league of the World Champions. The league of the Nations League champions. The league with the most Ballon d'Or. The league with the current UWCL champions. None of this matters to people and it's really fucking sad, next week I'm going to Tottenham-Liverpool (go reds!) and it will probably fill me and fuck me up the difference on caring for something.

Sorry for the rant but I really recommend going to matches on other places or countries to learn more about their culture, woso culture and appreciate what we have while fighting for more.

(P.D. There were people yesterday who had more than 3h in public transportation to get there, people from the UK, France, Poland, Portugal, lots of Norwegians...)

Peace out!

think this might go down as the longest ask I've ever had. Interesting read thanks for the insight

[alicewhitesblog]

Not in Service - An Original Short Story by © Rebel Version

Lesley Grant ran out of her house, right arm half way in her school blazer while the other one flapped to keep her school bag on her shoulder. It was not the most elegant of departures from her house giving the impression of a distressed baby bird attempting to fly. But appearances were the least of her concern. Because this was the third morning in a week that Lesley was going to be late for school.

Eventually, she made it to the designated bus stop. All that training she put in on the running track paid off. She adjusted her tie and smothered down her skirt and blazer. It may be a school uniform but no way was she getting on that bus looking like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Up ahead she could see the distinct bright yellow school bus approaching. Lesley held out her hand and waved it up and down. The bus driver could be seen through the windscreen but he seemed not to be paying any attention to the road or Lesley.

Seeing that the bus was not slowing down for her, she became more animated with her hand waving. Lesley could see the driver was standing up in his seat altering the destination of the bus. To her horror the sign on the front changed from the name of her school to read, NOT IN SERVICE.

No amount of gesticulating was going to grab this drivers attention and all she could do was watch open mouthed as the bus sped past her.

Lesley could see through the buses side windows all her fellow pupils chatting and carrying on being oblivious to her standing at the bus stop.

As the bus passed, a volley of expletives charged out of her mouth. A mother walking by looked at Lesley with some amount of distain as she attempted to cover the ears of her child.

"What did she say mummy?"

Before the bus reached the end of the road, Lesley was down on her knees exchanging her school shoes for the trainers she carried. There was only one thing for it, she'd have to run to school.

Even with a good steady spirit Lesley knew she would be half an hour late for school, she only hoped that the teacher on duty catching the late comers was back inside. Lesley thought she'd be able to make it to Biology and hopefully bluff off being late for registration and her first lesson by saying she was in the toilet suffering from a bout of sickness.

However, when she did arrive at school, she didn't expect the reception she got. Waiting for her was every member of staff and most of the parents that had kids in her year. Plus two police cars!

'Blimey!' she exclaimed. 'This is a bit OTT for being late!'

Upon seeing Lesley outside the school gates, one of the teachers came running over to her. Lesley was already with her story of the bus going past her, when the teacher took her by the arms.

"My dear child. Thank heavens you are safe!" Then looking over Lesley's shoulder the teacher enquired,

"Where are the others from the bus?"

"Thats what I'm trying to tell you Mrs Fraser. The bus just drove by me and I had to run to school!"

By now, parents and police officers were coming over to her. She could see the anxiety on their faces. Now showing some concern herself, she asked. "What's happened?"

Mrs Fraser moved Lesley away from the mob that was now approaching.

"The bus Lesley. It never turned up here this morning. Its gone missing!"

Thank you for reading more stories to follow soon.

For longer reads, you can find me on Wattpad

[blackcarlivery]

Do Airport Limos in Toronto Offer Flat Rates?

Traveling to and from the airport can be a stressful experience, but many travelers in Toronto have found a convenient and luxurious solution: airport limousines. These services offer a range of benefits, from comfort to reliability, but one of the most frequently asked questions is whether they provide flat rates. Understanding the pricing structure of airport limos in Toronto can help you make an informed decision and potentially save money on your travels.

Advantages of Airport Limos in Toronto:

Before diving into the specifics of pricing, it’s important to highlight why many people choose airport limos over other forms of transportation:

Comfort and Luxury: Airport limos provide a high level of comfort, often with leather seats, ample legroom, and a smooth ride.

Professional Service: Drivers are typically well-trained, courteous, and knowledgeable about the best routes and traffic patterns.

Reliability: Unlike ride-sharing services that might cancel or be delayed, airport limos are scheduled in advance, ensuring they arrive on time.

Convenience: With door-to-door service, there’s no need to worry about parking, shuttle buses, or hauling luggage through public transit systems.

Understanding Flat Rates:

One of the main concerns for travelers using airport limos in Toronto is the cost. Flat rates are a common feature of many limo services, providing a predetermined fee for specific routes or destinations. Here’s how flat rates can benefit you:

Budget-Friendly: Knowing the cost upfront helps in budgeting for the trip without any surprises.

No Hidden Fees: Flat rates typically include all fees, such as tolls, taxes, and gratuities.

Peace of mind: A flat rate ensures that the price doesn’t increase due to traffic delays or longer routes.

How do I find flat-rate airport limo services?

To take advantage of flat rates, you need to know where to look and what to ask for:

Research Online: Many airport limo companies in Toronto advertise their flat rates on their websites. Look for a clear breakdown of prices for different destinations.

Compare Services: Not all limo services offer flat rates, so it’s important to compare multiple companies. Look for reviews and testimonials to gauge reliability and service quality.

Direct Inquiries: Call or email limo services to inquire about flat rates. Be specific about your pickup and drop-off locations to get an accurate quote.

Check for Packages: Some companies offer special packages that include flat rates for round trips or frequent travelers.

Popular Routes and Flat Rates:

Here are some examples of common routes where airport limos in Toronto often provide flat rates:

Downtown Toronto to Pearson International Airport: This is one of the most popular routes, and many services offer flat rates that range between CAD 60 and CAD 100, depending on the type of vehicle and the time of day.

Toronto to Billy Bishop Airport: Flat rates for this shorter route are generally lower, typically between CAD 50 and CAD 80.

Toronto Suburbs to Pearson International Airport: Rates can vary widely based on the distance, but flat rates generally range from CAD 80 to CAD 150.

Factors Influencing Flat Rates:

Several factors can influence whether a limo service offers flat rates and what those rates might be:

Distance: Longer distances generally have higher flat rates. However, for very long trips, some services might switch to a per-mile charge.

Vehicle Type: The type of limo (sedan, SUV, or stretch limo) can affect the rate. Luxury vehicles typically command higher prices.

Time of Day: Peak travel times, such as early mornings or late evenings, might have different rates.

Season and Demand: During high travel seasons or special events, flat rates might increase due to higher demand.

Benefits of Metered Rates:

Choosing a service with flat rates over one with metered rates can offer several advantages:

Cost Predictability: Metered rates can fluctuate based on traffic and route changes, potentially leading to higher costs than anticipated.

Avoiding Traffic Surprises: In a bustling city like Toronto, traffic can be unpredictable. A flat rate shields you from the financial impact of unexpected delays.

Simplified Payment: With a flat rate, the payment process is straightforward and often handled in advance, reducing stress at the end of the journey.

Tips for Booking an Airport Limo in Toronto:

To ensure you get the best experience and value for your money when booking an airport limo:

Book in advance: Secure your limo service well ahead of your travel date to lock in flat rates and ensure availability.

Confirm Details: Double-check all booking details, including pickup times, locations, and any special requests.

Ask About Extras: Some services might offer complimentary amenities such as bottled water, Wi-Fi, or newspapers.

Read the fine print: Ensure there are no additional charges hidden in the terms and conditions, such as fees for extra stops or wait times.

Airport limos in Toronto offer a blend of luxury, convenience, and reliability, making them a popular choice for travelers. Flat rates, in particular, add an element of predictability and financial control, allowing passengers to enjoy their journey without worrying about fluctuating costs. By doing thorough research and understanding the factors that influence pricing, you can find an airport limo service that meets your needs and budget, ensuring a smooth and stress-free travel experience.

Visit here to learn more about limo service!

[mygainyear2024]

Day 34 Succumbed to a full day on a bus with tourists!

I was really keen to check out Tavira and some other small villages, beyond Faro and around the expanse of the Rio Formosa Natural Park (this was a distance I did not quite feel ready for in the hire car). I managed to find a tour company that would pick me up in Portimão. I'm glad I went as I have a sense of each place and what's on offer if I were to return. But it was a longish day (7.50am-7.30pm) with rushed stops in each town.

After picking up tourists in other places, and a bus change for me in Albufeira to join the English/Dutch speaking tour, as I was on the French/German bus, we finally arrived in Faro around 10am (the place I accidentally went to, getting on the wrong train). The tour guide took us to the Bishop's Palace, and then when he went into the cathedral for an optional extra tour I darted off to find a decent coffee and a couple of shops I wanted to check out. I did like the feel of Faro and this quaint old world department store (picture below). We had a little over an hour here. We were told to meet on a corner at 11.15am. I got there right on 11.15am and saw the tour guide as I was walking toward the meeting point, then I lost him and the whole group! For uma minuto I was slightly panicked. I walked towards a bus and thought better of it, so many white buses. I went back, caught a glimpse of his shirt again and ran and started to call out, but he didn't hear me. Luckily I caught up as I think they were about to take off without me. He asked me if I was alright, told me to sit down and catch my breathe like I was frail (I was breathless, but not about to die!) He then shamed me several times after, once he said "glad to see you!" Prick!

Next stop my favourite spot, Olhão. We had two hours here and I made a beeline for lunch at Vai e Volta, all you can eat fresh BBQ fish for €16 and it was very good. I did ask what each fish was that I was served, but the language barrier was an issue. I know I had tuna, mackerel and squid, plus three or so other varieties. I saw the fresh fish come in to the restaurant while I was sitting waiting and then it was being cooked and served. Even the bread was good. I then wandered around the street art and the great little Saturday craft market that was set up along the river near the fresh seafood and farmer's markets.

We then made the briefest stop to Cacela Velha to see another side of the Rio Formosa Natural Park, it was quite beautiful. It was a brief stop because the tour guide was fixated on beating the other buses to Tavira so we could get good seats for the Fado show!

The Fado show was in an old cathedral, and I thought it was a great venue. From what I can understand the singer won a national competition, not sure what year. She was quite gorgeous, obviously nervous and authentically appreciative of the audience. The show went for 45 minutes and then we had just under one hour to explore at our leisure. Again, I felt rushed. I hopped back on the bus and belted up and then I hear "Ms Bell come with me!" I was moved back to the original bus earlier than anticipated. Unfortunately, two French women were late, very late! That tour guide had to go looking for them, was on the phone to the office, there was no number listed. I learnt later that they had to find the agent who booked the tour, who luckily had their number. They had been waiting in the wrong place and didn't think that something might not be quite right, having been there 30 minutes after the departure time.

My advice, spend a few days here!

My bodily aches and pains were giving me grief all day from all that sitting, so I quickly got changed and headed out to inspect the festival and watch the sunset over Praia da Rocha on the last night of my days in the Algarve.

[mydyspraxiablog]

Having dyspraxia going Newphew comfim but Stafford to Golden Bridge got seat I was happy even didn't have disable railway card but wait then lift said if trying platform one please use stair so use stairs and was platform 2 didn't know how get platform 1 but some kind starager help show where stairs was to platform 1 then 3 trains was cannel saw someone nearly fall out train but his friend pick him up then trying get train but was fall could not get on train but guard whist haven't got on train yet " We got get on Christian go too." It so fall noughting to hold on felt wish wasn't here people push and trying going off both side off carriage end up with panic attacks fit on the train it was scare didn't have mobie phone no sunflower landyard card so if gone on own have panic attacks with no mobie phone no Sunflower landyard card with mum emergency number because of panic attacks have on trains not use train again too full and don't have seat never travel on trains again not going through trains again.

Do feeling let Georgina family down at movements got do some Easter to making up for that but not travel on trains got find away travel from bus Stafford to Harley not easy because Stafford buses only run in morning not on Sunday can't really walk up from Stafford to Harley might have be taxi but not worry.

Now going talk about bus pass at movent OAP and Disabled only can use bus pass only England not Wales, Scotland or North Ireland but for Eddler bus pass travel all round UK incude Wales and Scotland I got family and friends in Scotland and could have holiday in Wales too with bus pass travel on buses Do miss Greenach caravan park eat noughting but junk food then do miss Bedford step in Cornwall Hotel spead many happy time. IT something read on Internet don't know if true or not.

Now soon be Baptist nerves but looking forward too it only few family going but still got church family too and going let Jesus and God in my life. Even noughting do Stafford at movements after Baptist got write Easter Card to my sponsor child paid for Edacation , and health going on Compassionuk project really don't want say in Easter card sponsor child haven't ask it Compassionuk better want send before uk Easter with early this year. I haven't received letter from sponsor child so looking when arrived got log on Compassionuk but do website it bit better but not put all those need sponsor. I try not worry but do want pet hamsters would like cats and dogs again and sponsor child too and have sort out something with Lone Trefoil Guild as new cheques book only arrived today. Stupid Natwest bank there know this family living Victorian times only use cash paid delivery in cash too.

I not worry about further I know God chose me now how get out house going around stafford Town I miss Stone,Longton and Newcastle under Lyme missing going seaside want going holiday but won't be this year think mum might be eye done and time ask for caring look after me and mum as afraid using cooking but OK with microwave but got new Air flyer and yesterday made rock cakes try reduce suger as though YouTube Rock cakes was too much suger but do need turn Rock cakes over start with two each then mum had another one and two left " Want cut in half?"No you have it been gluten free food " so eat Rock cake nice bit need bit raising and bit more suger was nice. Why write this I think something did with Jigsaw badge which hadn't got yet I did cooking Gluten free pizza in oven ( This before oven exposed) Then in microwave did lemoncurd spone lemoncure cake in mug but can't find now because Google deleted those photo mum isn't happy about that.

I feeling sleeping need be up early for church in morning so going say goodnight.

[coastalmotorcoach]

Making the Right Choice: Factors to Consider When Hiring a Coach Charter

Charter coach services are a dependable choice for group transportation. Are you going on vacation or an event or a special occasion with a big group? A charter bus is the best option for you in this case.

Hiring a professional driver and a reliable coach charter means you don’t have to worry about navigating foreign streets or driving distracted. This is especially important if you hire it for your school or college children or corporate team. You also want to have a clear plan to make sure the whole group stays together as you move to the next destination. Here are some things to consider when you hire a coach charter and organize an event or a vacation.

The Safety Record

Before you choose a coach charter service, you should check their safety record. Have they been involved in any crashes recently? How long has your driver been with the company? Look at the online reviews and ratings and see what other customers have said about them.

Type of Training and Monitoring

Having the right licenses means that they are competent and legally authorized to drive their coach charters. It’s also crucial that the drivers have experience with the kind of people in your group! Ask the company about the driver. Do they have the proper licenses to operate in the city and drive coach charters?

Types of Charter Buses Available

There are many different choices when you’re renting a bus for your events or occasions or vacation. Make sure that you’re hiring coach charters that can handle your group’s specific needs. Fortunately, charter coach companies include vehicles such as motorcoach, minibuses, limousine buses, and even party buses to accommodate the entire group together.

Safety Precautions

One of the most common tips you’ll see these days is taking necessary safety precautions. Look into what kind of rules your coach charter company follows regarding safety & seating.

Cost of the Trip

Finally, calculate the overall cost of your trip. Ask the company to provide a transparent quote. It should not include any hidden fees. Check if you need to pay a deposit and if you can get your money back if you change your mind. Are there any periods or hours that are more affordable, such as in the Winter or late Summer? Make sure to get it in writing! It will keep you protected.

Hiring a Charter Coach for Your Next Event

Are you hiring a Charter coach for your next sports or corporate event or any social occasion? It’s important to pick someone reliable. Never get confused & stuck with this service for the next few days! Call Coastal Motor Coach exclusive group transportation services in Charleston, SC, Savannah, GA, Bristol, TN & Jacksonville, FL areas. Take a look at their service online and contact them at 843-948-8889 with any questions.

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The Hassle-free Route to Stansted Airport: Book Your Taxi Today

Traveling can be an exciting experience, but getting to the airport on time and without stress can often be a challenge. If you're planning a trip from or to Stansted Airport, one of the busiest airports in the United Kingdom, booking a taxi in advance can save you from unnecessary hassles and ensure a smooth journey. In this article, we'll explore the benefits of booking a taxi to Stansted Airport and provide you with a step-by-step guide to make the process quick and easy.

Why Choose a Taxi?

When it comes to airport transportation, taxis offer several advantages over other modes of transport. Here are some reasons why booking a taxi is a smart choice:

Convenience: Taxis provide door-to-door service, picking you up from your location and dropping you off at the airport terminal. You don't have to worry about parking or navigating public transportation with heavy luggage.

Time-saving: Taxis operate on your schedule, allowing you to choose a pickup time that suits your travel plans. Professional drivers are familiar with the best routes and can navigate through traffic efficiently, ensuring you reach the airport on time.

Reliability: Booking a taxi in advance guarantees a reliable mode of transportation. Taxis are available 24/7, even during early morning or late-night flights, ensuring you won't be left stranded.

Comfort: Taxis provide a comfortable and private travel experience. You can sit back, relax, and enjoy the journey without the hassle of crowded buses or trains.

Booking Your Taxi to Stansted Airport

Now that you understand the benefits of choosing a taxi, let's go through the step-by-step process of booking your ride to

Stansted Airport:

Research Taxi Companies: Start by researching reputable taxi companies that operate in the area. Look for companies that specialize in airport transfers and have a fleet of well-maintained vehicles.

Check Reviews and Ratings: Read online reviews and check ratings for the shortlisted taxi companies. This will give you an idea of the quality of service they provide and help you make an informed decision.

Compare Prices: Contact multiple taxi companies and compare their prices. Ensure there are no hidden charges and ask about any additional services they offer, such as meet and greet or child seat facilities.

Book in Advance: Once you've chosen a taxi company, book your ride well in advance of your travel date. This ensures availability and gives you peace of mind knowing your transportation is secured.

Provide Details: When making the booking, provide the taxi company with essential details such as your name, contact information, pickup location, flight details, and the number of passengers traveling. This information helps them plan and schedule your journey efficiently.

Confirmation: After booking, you should receive a confirmation email or text message with the details of your reservation. Double-check the information to ensure accuracy.

Be Punctual: On the day of your travel, be ready at the designated pickup point a few minutes before the scheduled time. This allows the driver to load your luggage and ensures a prompt departure.

Enjoy a Hassle-free Journey

By following these simple steps, you can book a taxi to Stansted Airport with ease and enjoy a hassle-free journey. Remember to choose a reputable taxi company, compare prices, and book in advance to secure your transportation. Sit back, relax, and let the professional driver take care of the rest while you travel to or from Stansted Airport comfortably and on time.