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bubsdolan · 3 years

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56 and 63 with grayson

“I’d hold on to something if I were you.”, “Please… Don’t stop.”

smut masterlist.

you hated grayson dolan. despised him. there was no amount hate you held for someone more than you did grayson. he was the bane of your life, route of everything wrong in the world and the fuel to your fire. no one set you off the way he did. he knew all the wrong buttons to push to get a reaction out of you and add to his already inflating ego.

when you found out grayson would be in attendance on your annual trip to hawaii, with your closest group of friends, you were livid. what once was a destination that held happy and unforgettable memories, would now be tarnished due to his arrogant self and unholy behaviour.

you tried to avoid grayson at all costs. you made sure you sat on opposite ends of the table whenever you went out a group lunch or dinner. you made it your mission to never be left alone with him, always having one of your girlfriends or ethan by your side wherever you ventured to. however, grayson was a determined individual and whatever he wanted, he got- you.

grayson had been pinning over you for years, secretly of course. he made sure to tell all your male friends and occasional love interests that you were strictly off limit. he wasn’t a guy to mess with and he made that perfectly clear when he found himself head over hills in love with you the very moment you locked eyes.

grayson thought tagging along to hawaii would be the perfect opportunity to get you alone. to confess his feelings and hopefully stop the ever growing feud between you. one he so desperately hated and would encourage it as he knew it was the only way you would entertain him. he used any excuse to get under you skin and watch how flustered he made you.

grayson found the perfect moment to devise his plan, when he looked out his window one evening and found you floating alone in the private pool of the villa you all rented for the next few weeks. he’s throwing on his tightest and shortest pair of speedos before rushing down to you without thinking twice. he needed to get to you before you headed to bed for the night and left him alone with his damaging thoughts.

“well well well, don’t you know pretty girls like you arent suppoed to be out alone.”

“get lost, dolan.” you scoff. not even bothering to acknowledge his annoying presence untill you felt him dip into the once calming water behind you. you felt a weird unshakable spark on burst through your body when you felt grayson’s rough hands embrace your hips as he pulled you closer. twisting your body around to finally face the goddess himself. as much as you hated him, he was breathtakingly beautiful, a sight for sore eyes and that made you hate him every more. knowing how badly you wanted him, but he was untenable.

“come on, sweetheart. you know im playing,” grayson licked his lips as his eyes flickered down to your cleavage that was so promising in his face. you purposely wore your skimpiest bikini, knowing it was bound to get to him going. the tension thick in the air as his eyes traveled back between your chest and up to your lips, just begging to be kissed by him and him only.

“i hate y-you,” your voice cracks embarrassingly as you try your hardest to fight his urgers. his scent filling your nose as you felt yourself get hypnotised under the spell of grayson dolan. all judgement and common sense out the window.

“let’s see how much you hate me when i split your little pussy in two, huh. bet you’ve never been with a real man before. a woman like you deserves to be treated like a slut.”

at first grayson throught he had gone too far, he had spoke out of turn, his list for you completely taking over and blinding your judgment. however, when he feels your tender hands dip into the waist band of his swim trunks, palming his penis and brushing your lips close to ear to whisper the words he dreamt about every night, he knew he had you exactly where he wanted you. putty in his hands and pussy ready to be destroyed.

“fuck me like you hate me, show me what you’ve got, dolan. put your money where your mouth is.”

and so he did just that. ripping your bikini bottoms in half, earning a slap on his chest and scold from you, as they were your favourite and by far most flattering set.

“no one needs to see you in those little things. for my eyes and my eyes only, got it?” grayson growls as he lines his dick up with your entrance as best as he could under the water. his hands gripping your hips as he thursted into you with so much force. all his ‘hatred’ coming forward and being taken out on your pussy.

“please... don’t stop,” you moan out with your head buried in the crook of grayson’s neck. your body falling limb into his as he rammed into you at such a pace that had water spraying up between your tangled bodies. his dick stretching your walls out completely, making you feel so warm and so full.

“i’d hold on to something if i were you.” grayson’s hand drop down to grip the skin of your arse. his fingers digging into your skin as he uses all his stretch to guide you forward, further onto his pulsating length.

you were out in the middle of a swimming pool. you had nothing surrounding you, nothing to grip onto to and squeeze with the life of you as grayson continued to absolutely destroy your cunt. in turn, you did the only thing that came to mind in that moment by wrapped your dainty hands around his neck. using his built up frame to support your weak and trembling one.

“oh- fuck!” grayson moans agasint your lips when he felt the newfound sensation of your squeezing his neck with every thurst. he hated to admit it, but he had to compose himself from cuming then and there as you choked him out. an established kink to show his submissive side that would only be reserved for you. you made him crumble.

“feels so good- fuck, gray, m-more,” you lift your head to become eye level with grayson and bring him in for a heated makeout session. your lips fighting for dominance agasint his own while he penetrated your slick cunt in the night of hawaii. your juices mixing in with the chlorinated water, that you needed to make a mental note to try and prevent your friends from going in the following morning.

“such a pretty pussy. mine, my tight pretty pussy.”

“i still hate you, dolan- fuck.”

grayson pulls you in for one final kiss, laughing wholeheartedly against your lips and melting at the adorable pout you displayed. knowing you didn’t mean a single negative word you were saying, feeling in the depths of his heart, his souls, that this one night where your bodies became one, changed everything. you were finally his girl.

“likewise, sweetheart.”

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celestica-1988 · 5 years

Text

The sound of the wind

Paring: Mick Mars x Female Reader.

Warning: fluff?

Mick has never been an anxious person, but since the cab left the flat he shared with Vince, Tommy and Nikki a storm of question invaded his mind.

What if the terror twins find funny to set the house on fire?

What if Vince and his dick scored and made a girl pregnant?

What if Tommy and Nikki will become dads too?

A terrible headache was forming like someone put a circle of metal around his head and kept squeeze it.

Shut the fuck up, he said to himself.

When I’ll be back the house will be still there, there won’t be tree manchildren ready or not to become dads.

No.

Everything will be all right, it was time to switch from Mick, the momma to the old and dear loud and aggressive guitarist ready to kick everyone’s ass.

He arrived at the airport, he entered it and in two hours he was in an airplane directed to the Hawaii, he booked a room in an hotel in a town some miles away from Honolulu to be quiet and not spent too much.

He though it was a good idea, but now he wasn’t so convinced, San Diego was away from LA, had the sea and was nearer if something happens and most of all he could go there with his car.

The hostess clearly disapproved his habits with vodka. When he bought a whole bottle he watched him disgusted like he was an old alcohol addict.

Mick gave her the “shut the fuck up, bitch!” glares and gave a sip to his vodka.

Since then they ignored each other.

What a wonderful beginning, said Mick to himself.

Finally the plane landed, the sun was shining, it was way too hot and full of people for Mick’s tastes, but it ignored it and grabbed his suitcases, the he froze.

There were some girl with flowers crowns and necklaces to place on tourists, no way in hell he would have them on him.

He looked around panicked, there were no other exit, flowers or stay two weeks in the airport.

Reluctantly he chose the flowers, he approached a girl and tried in every way to make her understand that, although flowers were nice, he didn’t want them. The girl smiled, but ignored him and put it a crown of flowers in his head and a necklace.

The poor guitarist was ashamed as hell when he exited the airport and look for a cab to take at him at his hotel, luckily the taxi driver didn’t say anything, probably used to tourist unhappy with flowers.

During the drive his thoughts raced to Los Angels more than usual and then he wanted to. He repeated firmly to himself that his bandmates were tree adults, able to take care of themselves.

He arrived at the hotel, he was small but nice, with two many light colors, but what was he waiting?

He wasn’t in a dark castle in Transylvania.

He took his luggage and went to the hall.

“Good morning, I booked a room at Deal’s name.”

“Yes, here it is. Can you give me your ID, mister Deal?”

He nodded and when all the papers were filled he went in his room, small but nice, with a terrace on the ocean. He arranged his clothes in the wardrobe and then sit on the bed.

What could he do?

Maybe he could go to the swimming pool, he wore a black short as bath suit, took the necessary and he started his first day of vacation.

He chose the more shadowed beach chair and umbrella and laid on it with his arm crossed on his chest. He knew it was an unusual position to rest, but not so much. He realized how he was wrong he was when every kid who saw him pointed the finger at him.

“Mum, look at this man.”

“Stop it, it’s rude!”

But also the mother look was judgmental at her best.

It would be a long long vacation

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

You didn’t know why do you chose Hawaii as a place for your vacation.

It wasn’t so different from your country, Jamaica, but the wind told you to go there and you listen to the wind because you were a daughter of nature.

You found a nice hotel some miles away from the capital of the Hawaii and you stopped there. It had everything: comfortable rooms, good cooking, next to the sea and with a pool.

It was time to go to the swimming pool (you preferred the sea in the morning and the pool in the afternoon) and you sighted.

You were proud to be Jamaican, you were proud to be black, but you were also a goth.

Your secret wish was to have a proper white skin, white as porcelain and you feel a little guilt for it.

Whatever, you said.

You put on a costume, took your bag and left the room. When you reached the swimming pool you frowned, your favorite chair was already taken by a man. He was older than you and rested with his hands crossed on the chest. Was he vampire?

Shrugging your shoulder you walked towards him and sat on the chair next to him, you laid in silence, but after a while you got annoyed: Dracula didn’t take his eyes out of you.

“Never saw a black girl before?”

You spat aggressively.

“I never saw a goth black girl before.”

His voice was calm and soothing.

“How do you know I’m a goth?” “Black clothes, chose on of the most shadowed chair, skin as pale as possible.

I just connected the dots, kid.”

“I have a name, oldie.” He laughed sarcastically.

“I’m Mick, kid.”

“I’m Y/N, oldie.”

“Cool, now enough with human interaction.

Bye, Y/N!” The man stopped to look at you and after five second you heard him snore.

You shook your head and got up. You stretched your body and walked towards the swimming pool.

Maybe this time the wind made a mistake, your paintings were average and the only person who talked to you was that weird Dracula.

You jumped into the pool and swam lazily, you were not the one who hurried things, and you were sure that sometimes the man was still looking at you.

You couldn’t decide if it was flattering or creepy.

At dinner time you showed in the room with your favorite black dress, a waitress stopped you, she seems quite embarrassed.

“Miss Y/S, I’m really sorry to ask you that, but could you share the table with mister Deal?

It will be just temporary, we are out of tables.”

“It’s okay. No problems, I will meet new people.” The waitress seemed relieved.

You walked to you table and gasped: mister Deal was that Dracula man.

“Here we go again, goth kid.”

“My name is Y/N, mister Deal.”

You said slow and clear the surname of the man.

“Call me Mick Mars, cut with this bullshit.”

You sat and looked at him suspicious.

“What’s your real name?” “Deal, Mick Mars is my stage name and I prefer to be called this way.

“Stage name? Are you in a band or something?” “I’m in a band. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Jamaica, but I currently live in LA. I’m a wannabee artist.” “I see.”

The man stayed in silence for a while, until when the waitress was serving you dinner.

“Never been to the Sunset Strip?” You shook your head, your roommate tried hundreds of times to convince to go there, but you refused because it was loud and messy for you.

“No.” “Next time you are in the city, come to the Sunset Strip and look for a band called Mötley Crüe, you will find me shredding on my guitar.” “Motley Crue? My roommate always said she would like to be railed by the bassist, Mikki Sex?”

Mick started to laugh and you realized what the hell you just said, you would gladly leave the room if the second course of the meal wasn’t arrived. You felt like a perfect idiot, so you froze in the position of a queen on her throne.

“Ah, that Nikki Six bitch! The girls always hitting on him.

Another one that wanna be reailed by that motherfucker.”

The second course came –fish – you ate it so fast that you risked seriously to choke, then left as fast as you can. Thanks to your big fat mouth you did another dick figure, you would never found again the guts to sit with Mick Mars again.

After walking for some times aimlessly, you decided to stop in a bar and ordered a pina colada, you loved coconut since you were a kid.

After some minutes someone sat to the stool next to yours, you didn’t mind but you weren’t in the right mood to chat with a stranger.

“Oh, here we go again Y/N. It’s a pity that you ran away, the dessert was really good.”

You froze: it was Mick Mars.

“Hi, M-M-Mick.”

You stuttered red as a dark tomato.

“What’s gotten into you suddenly?”

“It’s just the story of my friend I told you.” You whispered in a very low tone of voice.

“That? The guys are used to it and they are happy. If your friends is pretty she surely would be railed by those animals. No need to be ashamed.” “It’s just sometimes I say the dumbest shit I could say.” “You can’t be worse than Tommy.” You smiled shyly.

After all maybe you can be friends with the L.A vampire.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

The day passed and you and Mick were inseparable.

You walk around the little town and the nature that surrounded the place, you drove together in the swimming in pool and one time you dragged him to the sea.

It was the only time you used some sort of violence on him, when he was an inch away from the water you watched him. Your smiled faded via at the view of him in pain.

“What’s up?” You asked to him, leaving his les and kneels next to him.

“It’ my back. I suffer from ankylosing spondylitis. It is a type of arthritis in which there is a long-term inflammation of the joints of the spine.[2] Typically the joints where the spine joins the pelvis are also affected. I always had back sore. Stiffness of the affected joints generally worsens over time. I’ve been diagnosed it at seventeen.” “I’m really sorry, Mick. I would never do that if I knew it.” You two came back to your “studio”. It was a simple blanket placed in the shadows of a group of palms where there were your colors, your brushes and an easel.

Since you met Mick you found new energy and inspiration so you wanted him around. Usually you painted places of the islands but in a post-apocalyptic way.

“Y/N, why do you need me so much when you paint?”

He chuckled the guitarist.

“Because you are my inspiration.”

“So if your painting are so dark it’s because of me.

I don’t know if feel flattered to it or scared.” “Why scared? One day we’ll exploit the heart till this paintings will be reality.”

You would also made a portrait of him but you were way to shy to ask him.

“As inspiration I want to be paid, do me a portrait.” “It’s okay.” You just finished a painting, so you’ll grin.

“Come on, mister Mars. Go in front of me and let’s started this portrait.”

For a minute he was surprised than he did what you jokingly ordered to him.

He was a sexy man with long black hair, blue eyes and a hint of moustache and beard, and that cigarette made him even sexier.

You had to put all concentration in painting every particular of him instead of what you could do in your bedroom.

It took so long that you thought that after all you would give up an took him to you room and do a lot of bad things. You didn’t know how but you found yourself in love with Mick.

Oh, shit.

………………………………..

The day before you left you found the courage of tell him everything, but in your own way.

You wore Mick’s favorite bikini and put everything you need in a bag, sighting you left your room.

You knocked at Mick’s one who looked you surprised and – you could swear on your mother – a hint of desire.

“Hey, weirdo. Why are you here?”

“Midnight bath!” “No way!”

“Come on! Tomorrow I must leave to come back to Los Angeles.”

He sighted.

“Ok, let’s go.”

“No bath suit?” “This short will be okay.” You run out of the hotel laughing like you were children.

Once you arrived at the beach, you dropped the bag and ran towards the ocean, Mick was next to you.

You swam for a while than stopped and spread legs and arms letting the movements of the waves caressed you.

The sky was beautiful, so full of stars that looked like shining diamonds.

“Woah! That’s place is beautiful.”

Said Mick.

“Well, I brought you there to tell you a thing.

I felt in love with you, Mick.” For a moment there was just the sound of the wind.

“How can a girl like you love a man like me, with my disease?” “I don’t know and I don’t care.

Do- Do you love me back?”

You asked, scared to be rejected.

Mick swam next to you, put you in his arm for a long hug and then looked you in the eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.” Than you kissed passionately so many times till the back of Mick let you.

Than you came back in your original position except Mick’s hand was locked to yours.

“Mick…” “Yea, baby?” “When I will be back in L.A I will go to the Sunset Strip, I wanna find you there.”

“The day after tomorrow I will leave too and you will find me.”

“So, let’s meet in Los Angeles.” You both nodded and kissed slowly.

In the sky the star kept shining.

#The Dirt #the dirt fanfic #the dirt imagine #mick mars #the dirt!mick mars

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rjzimmerman · 5 years

Text

Angst from reading

Summer is supposed to be the time to read lighter stuff, allowing the reader to escape. So what have I been doing? Reading the heavier material that pulls me deeper into the muck of angst and high blood pressure.

Two books that I read this summer (or completed reading this summer) are “The Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming,” by David Wallace-Wells, and “Losing Earth: A Recent History,” by Nathaniel Rich. I also read the Mueller Report, including all the footnotes (which allows any of you to put me in the “seriously disturbed” category). Each of them smacked my sense of security, if it hadn’t been already, and drove me to the realization that most of us are ordinary people, with limited resources, in a big, sorry, scary world, manipulated and used by a handful of very wealthy, very powerful people and families whose primary objective is increasing their personal wealth and power to the exclusion of the rest of us.

I’m sharing three passages from each of the three pieces that still haunt me, long after I closed up the books (and report) after I finished reading them. Why? Because each passage gets to core issues each of us should consider.

The piece from “The Uninhabitable Earth” is exhausting, because the author puts into three paragraphs a description of some of the most frightening climate-related events and catastrophes that occurred in 2017 and 2018. As a consequence, you read the bits and pieces but also see the big picture, or the forest from the trees, along with all the trees that make up the forest.

Because we determined not to make a traditional prosecutorial judgment, we did not draw ultimate conclusions about the President’s conduct. The evidence we obtained about the President’s actions and intent presents difficult issues that would need to be resolved if we were making a traditional prosecutorial judgment. At the same time, if we had confidence after a thorough investigation of the facts that the President clearly did not commit obstruction of justice, we would so state. Based on the facts and applicable legal standards, we are unable to reach that judgment. Accordingly, while this report does not conclude that the President committed a crime, it also does not exonerate him.

It is not yet widely understood, though it will be, that the politician who claims that climate change is uncertain betrays humanity in the same fashion as the politician who fabricates weapons of mass destruction in order to whip up support for a profiteering war. It is not yet widely understood, though it will be, that when a government relaxes regulations on coal-fired plants or erases scientific data from a federal website, it is guilty of more than merely bowing to corporate interests; it commits crimes against humanity. The rejection of reason - the molten core of denialism - opens the door to the rejection of morality, for morality relies on a shared faith in reason. Actions to hasten carbon dioxide emissions are the ineluctable corollary of climate denialism. Once it becomes possible to disregard the welfare of future generations, or those now vulnerable to flooding or drought or wildfire - once it becomes possible to abandon the constraints of human empathy - any monstrosity committed in the name of self-interest is permissible.

It is almost hard to believe just how much has happened and how quickly. In the late summer of 2017, three major hurricanes arose in the Atlantic at once, proceeding at first along the same route as though they were battalions of an army on the march. Hurricane Harvey, when it struck Houston, delivered such epic rainfall it was described in some areas as a “500,000 year event” - meaning that we should expect that amount of rain to hit that area once every five hundred millennia.

Sophisticated consumers of environmental news have already learned how meaningless climate change has rendered such terms, which were meant to describe storms that had a 1-in-500,000 chance of striking in any given year. But the figures do help in this way: to remind us just how far global warming has already taken us from any natural-disaster benchmark our grandparents would have recognized. To dwell on the more common 500-year figure for just a moment, it would mean a storm that struck once during the entire history of the Roman Empire. Five hundred years ago, there were no English settlements across the Atlantic, so we are talking about a storm that should hit just once as Europeans arrived and established colonies, as colonists fought a revolution and Americans a civil war and two world wars, as their descendants established an empire of cotton on the backs of slaved, freed them and then brutalized their descendants, industrialized and postindustrialized, triumphed in the Cold War, ushered in the “end of history,” and witnessed, just a decade later, its dramatic return. Harvey was the third such flood to hit Houston since 2015. And the storm struck, in places, with an intensity that was supposed to be a thousand times rarer still.

That same season, an Atlantic hurricane hit Ireland, 45 million were flooded from their homes in South Asia, and unprecedented wildfires tilled much of California into ash. And then there was the new category of quotidian nightmare, climate change inventing the once-unimaginable category of obscure nature disasters - crises so large they would once have been inscribed in folklore for centuries today passing across our horizons ignored, overlooked, or forgotten. In 2016, a “thousand year flood” drowned small-town Ellicott City, Maryland, to take but one example almost at random; it was followed, two years later, in the same small town, by another. One week that summer in 2018, dozens of places all over the world were hit with record heat waves, from Denver to Burlington to Ottawa; from Glasgow to Shannon to Belfast; from Tbilisi, in Georgia, and Yerevan, in Armenia, to whole swaths of southern Russia. The previous month, the daytime temperature of one city on Oman reached above 121 degrees Fahrenheit, and did not drop below 108 all night, and in Quebec, Canada, fifty-four died from the heat. That same week, one hundred major wildfires burned in the American West, including one in California that grew 4,000 acres in one day, and another, in Colorado, that produced a volcano-like 300-foot eruption of flames, swallowing an entire subdivision and inventing a new term, “fire tsunami,” along the way. On the other side of the planet, biblical rains flooded Japan, where 1.2 million were evacuated from their homes. Later that summer, Typhoon Mangkhut forced the evacuation of 2.45 million from mainland China, the same week that Hurricane Florence struck the Carolinas, turning the port city of Wilmington briefly into an island and flooding large parts of the state with hog manure and coal ash. Along the way, the winds of Florence produced dozens of tornadoes across the region. The previous month, in India, the state of Kerala was hit with its worst flood in almost a hundred years. That October, a hurricane in the Pacific wiped Hawaii’s East Island entirely off the map. And in November, which has traditionally marked the beginning of the rainy season in California, the state was hit instead with the deadliest fire in its history - the Camp Fire, which scorched several hundred square miles outside of Chico, killing dozens and leaving many more missing in a place called, proverbially, Paradise. The devastation was so complete, you could almost forget the Woolsey Fire, closer to Los Angeles, which burned at the same time and forced the sudden evacuation of 170,000.

#The Uninhabitable Earth #Losing Earth #Mueller Report

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tingleparker · 5 years

Text

When in Hawaii

Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Request: No one asked for this but Tom’s Instagram Hawaii pics are just too tempting.

•Warnings: Fluff, bad writing (definitely not my best), swearing?.

•Summary: When in Hawaii, You got to do something new. Sport? Not always your forte but you didn’t realize you are so awful at golf until you meet a handsome, trust fund golfer.

•Word count- 2.7k (how did I manage to write so much scrap)

When in Hawaii you got to try something new. In this beautiful place like this, you need to just get away from reality; take the world in for once in your life. Your family had planned this holiday for weeks now, and finally, all of you are here. Just like the pictures you see on Instagram feeds, the island is as beautiful as it is captured on our phone screens. While dragging all our luggage to the hotel, other families and groups of friends pass you by; but a certain group catches your eye. You don't remember them on the same plane but you do remember seeing a fancy jet at the airport surely that wasn't theirs right? You shrug it off, you didn't even know them anyways; so who are you to judge. You caught the eyes of the prettiest of hazel, the sun’s light shining down on the colour bringing out a little shine to it. Your lips twitch into a smile, as you see the rest of the handsome man that has now caught your attention. His eyebrow quirks up before returning the smile towards you and turning around to his family, catching up with them. You do the same, having to lightly jog to return to the group. A smile remained on your face throughout the rest of the day; which wasn't long as straight after dinner, you pass out on the hotel bed; exhausted by jet-lag and the journey here.

It is like waking up in paradise; the sunshine, the view, the atmosphere. Though you never liked waking up, you got up seeing a text from your younger siblings about the family already at breakfast. You sigh, you seriously thought you were early for once but anyways you begrudgingly cleaned yourself up before exiting your room and heading down for breakfast.

“So we were wondering if we could go?” You hear your younger brother Liam ask, as you get closer to your family.

“Go where?” You ask whilst pulling out a chair joining them, grabbing a plate instantly and getting what you wanted to eat.

“Golfing!” Your youngest sibling Malia, exclaims.

“You have permission to go but Y/n has to go with you two.” Your mother stated causing the pair of teenagers to groan.

“Out of everything you guys choose golf?” You ask after swallowing your mouthful, curious about why they chose what seems to be a boring sport in your opinion.

“You don't even play sport, maybe you should start. Golfs easy enough for you...I think” Liam sasses, causing you to shoot him a glare; your dad sternly calling out his name.

“Maybe I shouldn't go, which means you can't either.” you clap back, poking your tongue out at your brother as he huffs; crossing his arms angrily.

“Please Y/n… I really wanna go play and you gotta step out of your comfort zone. Try something new!” Malia convinces, grasping at your arm and putting on the best puppy eyes she can.

You sigh, you couldn't resist her damn eyes. The younger pair let out a big cheer, high-fiving each other knowing they had won.

“Alright, you two little shits-”

“Language.” Your mum scolded, as you give a little sorry for an apology.

“As I was saying, my two dear siblings; you better be ready before twelve or else I'm leaving your asses.”

“Y/n!” You dad now piping up as you once again apologize but stood up from your chair, ready to head back into your room to have some alone time before having to go out.

“Oh! Before you go, just remember we’re all having lunch at the small restaurant near the golfing range at two-thirty” Your dad informs, you nod putting the information in the back of your head before heading up to your room.

After getting ready for golf, you head out of your room at exactly twelve and you turn the corner to see both Liam and Malia standing at the elevator all dressed and ready to go. You roll your eyes at their antics, all of you hopping into the; heading out to the golf course.

The three of you arrive, renting out some clubs and golf balls before heading out to the holes. You’ll admit that when you see others playing golf, it never piqued your interest; actually, you think you've never actually played before after recalling some past memories. Your two younger siblings are smiling ear to ear as we get to hole number one, Malia setting up her shot first. You look around noticing a group of boys on the next hole, you decide staring is rude so you look around the scenery; getting into your own bubble.

“Y/n! Your turn.” Malia shouts, snapping you out of it and gripping the golf club that Liam hands to you.

“If you don't remember, Golf is where you hit the ball into that hole over there. Easy.” Liam instructs but obviously being sarcastic as always.

“Yeah, I got it. Should be easy right?” You say mostly to yourself, you don't even know why you were stressing; it is literally just golf.

“It’s easy, you got this Y/n!” Malia encourages with a bright smile.

You line up your shot, making sure that you'll hit the ball at the right angle to get it somewhat near the hole. Taking a deep breath you swung the club back before swinging it back forward hitting the ball. What you didn't realize was maybe you got your angles wrong, as the ball flew through the air landing right on the head of one of the boys ahead of you. You gasp loudly as Liam and Malia burst into laughter, you instantly start moving to the boy you hit; him now on the ground clutching his head as you see another person probably calling for staff. As you arrive at the group you realize it's the same family from the airport. Your mind could only focus on the fact that you have just hit the most the most attractive man you've ever seen, and you're not even exaggerating.

“I am so sorry!” You apologize, making all their heads turn towards you, but you only look at the injured man as he stood up right in front of you.

“Don't come near me ever again! My dad can sue you for this, not like we need any more money from people like you.” He basically hisses out, fire in his eyes; and if looks could kill, you’d definitely be six feet under in a second.

“People like me? You mean people who aren't spoiled brats?” You fire back, the words just coming out without a thought; not caring about the consequences.

“You want to say that again? Y-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Alright, let's not get violent now. How about we get you to the first aid bay inside Tom.” One of the other men steps in the middle before reaching out to help the injured ‘Tom?’.

“Don't touch me! I can walk myself, it's not like she hit me in the leg.” Tom pushes the blue-eyed boy away but the other two boys swooped in helping him walk.

“But she did hit you in the head, so you could have a concussion dumb-ass.” The curly, red-haired one spoke up as they aid him to walk towards the building.

Your phone pings with a notification from your siblings, saying that they'll continue through all the holes and meet up with you after. You quickly respond to them, hoping they won't misbehave, and you knew you would meet up with them soon. You look up again to see their figures getting smaller in the distance, without realizing the one who stepped in is still next to you.

“I’m sorry ‘bout him. He’s -” He begins to speak but you cut him off.

“Spoiled?”

“Yeah, but I bet he doesn't mean whatever dumb shit comes out of his mouth.” He defends after laughing at your response.

“Yeah, I bet” You sarcastically say, rolling your eyes.

“Seriously, C’mon we’ll go see him in the bay” Blue eyes says before starting to walk in the direction of the building.

“Are you kidding? Like he… I would want to see him again!” You say, a tad loudly for the man to hear; causing him to stop and turn around to face you.

“Well, I think you and him deserve some apologizes,” He says before turning around again, continuing on his journey.

You close your eyes, asking yourself; were you really going to face him again? You called this guy hot in your mind before hitting him with a golf ball and then going off at each other. You sigh, opening your eyes; seeing the man was quite far now before running to catch up to him.

“Glad you could join…”

“Y/n”

“Harrison, that div’s best friend.”

As you got to the first aid room, you see the two other boys who helped out heading out of the room.

“We gotta check up on dad, catch up later Haz.” One of them says before the two walk away, obviously to their father.

You are starting to second guess things, he obviously wouldn't want to see you after what you did; so why were you here? Harrison then goes to open the door but before he could push it open, your hand shot out to stop him.

“A-are you sure I should be here?” You ask feeling doubt and like you shouldn't actually go in.

“Seriously Y/n? We’re both going in. Don’t worry about him.” Harrison reassures before opening the door fully this time.

You were behind Harrison, Tom not being able to see you yet as Harrison greets the injured man. Tom is sat on the bed in the bay, the aid had gone off somewhere; so it was just him in the room.

“Oh thank lord you're here Haz. Did you tell that girl to get lost? Seriously as pretty as she was, she hit me in the head.” You hear the trust fund kids voice, wanting to run away and crawl into a hole but at the same time confront him.

He called you pretty but at the same time can't let go of his dick of a personality for one second.

“Not exactly…” Harrison draws out before stepping to the side, showing your figure behind him.

Tom sends a glare to Haz before turning to you, looking you up and down in judgment. You want to cower away from his sight but you needed to stand your ground, you couldn't let this rich, trust fund and handsome man beat you.

“Sorry?” you apologize but it came out more like a question, earning a nudge from Harrison who shot you a glare as well as Tom.

“Seriously? That's all?” Tom questions.

“Well, what do you want me to say? I’ve already apologized so what do you expect?” You ask, words just flowing out from your mind.

“Alright, I’m sorry. For being a div, how ‘bout we talk? You can sit if you'd like” Tom surprisingly nicely suggests.

You give him a weird glance but wouldn't refuse his suggestion, so you went to sit next to him on the bed; space between you two is still substantial.

It started off with awkward small talk before it just clicked. The two of you actually had common interests, sharing jokes that brought tears to your eyes. The two of you were in your own world and didn't realize Haz had walked out the room minutes ago. Harrison walking out the room proud to be the best wing-man for his best mate and wanting a ‘thank you’ from him later

“You know you're actually pretty funny for someone who hit me on the head.” Tom jokes.

“C’mon that was a low blow. Does it still hurt?” You ask, unconsciously moving closer to inspect the bump on his head.

“A bit, it's not bad though,” Tom says as your fingers reach out to slowly graze the injury you had caused.

You hadn't realized how close your faces were until your eyes flicker down to see that there was barely centimeters between the two of you. You feel Toms' hand fall to your hip as your hands slid down to cup his face. The two of you leaning a tad closer, lips brushing against each other. Just as you were about to close the gap, your phone notifications blare through the room causing the two of you to jump apart. You quickly grab out your phone, to see Liam spamming you with messages.

‘Where are you?’

‘We gotta meet for lunch remember?’

‘Or are you too busy getting a restraining order from that dude you hit?’

Your eyes widen as you forgot about the family lunch you had at two-thirty, looking at the time it so happened to be two-twenty.

“Shit!” You say out loud to yourself as you shoot to stand up from your spot.

“What's wrong?” Tom asks, looking at your frantic state.

“I forgot I had something and I really need to go if I don't want to be late.” You inform him, almost taking off.

“How about I give you my number? We could meet up sometime again?” Tom asks almost calmly but on the inside, he was freaking the fuck out; hoping to see you again.

“Yeah, sure” You respond; giving him your phone, obviously you wouldn't turn him down.

After Tom gives your phone back you quickly thank him and without thinking lean in for a kiss on his cheek, before basically darting out of the room with an ‘I’ll text you later!’.

Tom's lips tug into a smile, thinking about how this situation has turned before plopping his head on the weirdly comfortable pillow of the bed.

After rushing out of the room, you run to the reception desk; wanting to ask to place an announcement for your siblings but you see them standing at the side leaning against the desk. You let out a breath of relief, walking over to them and ushering them out; not wanting to be late for the family lunch, know mum would kill you.

“So how’d it go with the guy you hit?” Liam teases, obviously not knowing that you had made up.

“Actually good, thank you very much.” You respond as the three of you sped walk to the nearby restaurant.

“Ooo Y/n has a crush on the guy she hit in the head.” Malia joins in with the teasing, a skip in her step now.

“Y/n must've given him a concussion if he has any interest in her.” Liam snarks like he always does, earning a hit on the back of the head by you.

“Shut up and walk faster.”

The three of you make it in just in time, you spot your parents already sat at a table and you join them. Just as you were browsing the menu, you hear a loud chatter of people. Glancing up you see the Hollands and Haz, your eyes instantly finding Tom. With the feeling of someone watching him, Tom turns to see Y/n looking straight at him. With a wink of his eye, making a blush crawl up your cheeks the two of you turn away. The waiter comes, making you stutter out an order; making your family look at you weirdly. Your phone lights up with a message from a contact under “Div you hit in the head’

‘Fancy seeing you here love.’ The message read, you smile at it before looking up to see Tom sat at a table near yours; eyes already on you.

“So how was golfing?” Your dad asks, making the younger pair basically jump in their seats.

“It was so fun! I loved it” Malia exclaims in excitement, recalling the events of today in her mind.

“Yeah! It was fun seeing Y/n hit her crush in the head.” Liam exposes as you kick him under the table for the comment.

You didn't say anything back, but you glance up to see the prettiest of eyes and a purple bruise that you caused. Whoops. But you wouldn't change anything that happened today because...

When in Hawaii you gotta try something new and maybe you'll hit something you like.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #tom holland #ddholland

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thoughtslikeaminefield · 6 years

Text

Plus One

CHAPTER THREE

Summary: OFC Vanessa hates weddings until she meets a handsome stranger.

Pairing: Dean x OFC

Warnings: age difference, ass play, finger sucking, finger feeding, female ejaculation, NSFW

A/N: Fun fact: In Hawaii, peridot symbolizes the tears of Pele, the volcano goddess of fire who controls the flow of lava.

“Hair of the Dog” is for @glassjacket my soulmate.

GJ’s summary of how Dean’s Craig’s List ad would read if he were a professional wedding crasher: “Have a wedding you really don’t wanna fucking go to? Want to piss some people off and you don’t give a shit? Hi, I’m Dean. I’m 36, 6’2”, blond hair, green eyes. I don’t do suits. I do do whiskey. I enjoy being a dick, but not to you, just to people who deserve it. I’ll show up, cause a scandal, and make sure everyone is talking about it months after the bouquet has faded. Call now. Rates are negotiable. If you have a friend, I can talk my baby bro into a double date.”

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

*graphic by @tumbler-tidbits

They don’t wait for the first dance, they don’t wait for the bride and groom to cut the cake. As soon as they’re finished eating, Vanessa and Dean push away from the table, bidding their tablemates the most inadequate of goodnights and Vanessa drags him toward the exit.

“Van, wait up,” a newly familiar female voice calls from behind them. When Vanessa turns she sees one of the bridesmaids hurrying to catch up with her.

“Which floor,” Dean asks, lightly running his knuckles over her bare arm. “I’ll get the elevator.” He doesn’t want to waste time and he doesn’t want to hear what the other woman has to say.

“Ten,” Vanessa answers, shivering from his touch and accepting his jacket when he offers it. “I’ll only be a second.” She wraps the black denim around her shoulders, and Dean boops her nose with a grin before heading to the elevator bank.

Vanessa turns to the bridesmaid. “What’s up, Emma?” She asks.

Emma watches Dean walk away then quietly speaks. “Hey, so - that guy,” she starts, and Vanessa rolls her eyes. “No, listen,” Emma reaches for Vanessa’s hand. “Every male-attracted person in this room is green with envy right now and silently cheering you on.” Emma smiles warmly and Vanessa relaxes. “I just wanna make sure you’re safe.”

Vanessa blinks. “Well... thanks.” It really hadn’t occurred to her that she may be doing something unsafe. Dean exuded a sense of security from the moment she entered his sphere. “But, I mean, he’s not scary or anything.”

“Well, he’s pretty aggressive,” she says pointedly. “And big. But, I definitely trust your judgment, I just want you to know that I’m right next door in 1005.” She squeezes Vanessa’s hand in her before releasing her. “So if you need anything, lemme know. And have fun.” She winks before turning and heading back to the wedding party table.

Vanessa joins Dean just as the elevator doors open. “Everything okay?” He mutters, placing a kiss to the top of her head as he ushers her inside the elevator car. He wonders if the little show they put on pushed things too far.

“Everything’s great,” Vanessa says, and when the doors close and they’re alone, she turns into him and pulls him down for a kiss. She feels him relax in a way he hasn’t since she met him. He rests his hands on her hips and slowly pushes his tongue into her mouth.

She slides her fingers through his hair and moans into the deep, languorous kiss. Turns out that mouth of his can do all the things. He pulls back slightly and brushes his full, parted lips over hers before pulling her top lip between his then diving back in deep. She’s wet again, just from his mouth on hers but she really thinks that she could do nothing else all night and this would be enough.

When the elevator dings, signaling they’ve reached their destination, Vanessa reluctantly pulls away from Dean’s lips. His eyes are still closed as he chases her mouth with his, but she’s persistent in her exit from the car. “C’mon,” she coaxes him. “Wait’ll you see the bed,” she says with a giggle and Dean grins lazily, following her, hand in hand.

They get inside her room and Dean lingers behind her, removing his jacket and something from the back waist of his pants before throwing the bolt on the door.

Then his hands are on her again and he’s kissing her. She pushes his heavy work shirt from his shoulders and slides her hands up under his t-shirt, and he sighs into her mouth, lifting her until her legs are wrapped around his waist.

She left a bedside lamp on and the curtains open, so the light in the room is low and the moonlight filters through the sheers. Dean walks them to the bed, the blue light of the moon loving the curves of his face as he kisses her like it’s the main event, but she knows better.

Dean settles her on the side of the bed before standing and quickly pulling his black t-shirt over his head and discarding it. He’s covered in old wounds and has a large tattoo on his left pec. There’s a fresh, dark-pink scar on the inside of his right arm. It’s all kind of intense looking and her stomach flips. Every newly revealed dimension of this man has Vanessa on the edge of her seat. Maybe she should be cautious like Emma warned, but her gut tells her she doesn’t need to be afraid of him.

Before she can take in the dips and curves of his torso, he’s at her feet, removing her shoes. He tosses them over his shoulders and runs his hands up under her skirt, kneeling upright between her legs, kissing her again and sliding his fingers over the smooth skin of her hips. She rests her hands on his bare shoulders and lets him kiss her. When she starts to move her hands to explore him, she can feel scars.

“What’s this?” she whispers, cupping her hand over the tattoo as her other hand wanders the hard planes of his body, cataloging the long-healed damage to his otherwise perfect skin. That sense of danger lingers in the back of her mind, but his eyes soothe any fear she might have.

Dean tucks his chin into his chest, looking down at her delicate hand over the anti-possession tattoo. For every woman who asks this question - and they all do - he has a different answer. “Kind of a family thing,” he says, tilting his head to press his lips to her neck, licking and nipping the spot before moving down to her collarbones.

She gasps and sighs as his mouth moves and his hands roam. “I didn’t even ask what you do for a living,” she murmurs, as he wraps his hand around one knee and pulls her to the edge of the bed. He laughs at that - more of a chuckle really - it isn’t cruel. “I know, I know...” She laughs too.

Dean pulls back and looks her in the eyes, one of his calloused hands brushes the inside of her thigh before softly pressing his knuckles against where she’s wet. “My brother and I,” he starts, running a fingertip along her slit and her breath shudders. “Run the family business - kinda...” he pushes a finger inside her and she moans. “Private investigators.”

He smirks and watches her grin. She closes her eyes and breathes deep, tipping her head back, submitting to the moment, as he pushes another finger inside her.

He doesn’t ask her what she does and she doesn’t tell him - it doesn’t matter. All that matters is sinking into her, forgetting all the bullshit of his life for just one night. She’s perfect, willing and right on the edge, and she doesn’t ask too many questions.

She grips his elbows, trying to pull him into her while lifting and thrusting her hips onto his hand. He gently swipes his thumb across her swollen clit a few times and slowly twists his fingers inside her until he can press his fingers against that spot. When he does, he presses down on her clit with his thumb and rubs and she’s coming, gasping his name.

Dean pulls his fingers out of her to warmly cup her in one hand, pushing the other into the back of her hair, kissing her down and holding her steady. She reaches down to fumble with his belt and he lets her. She pulls the leather from the metal buckle and pops his buttons open one by one. She can feel his heat, and her want for him ramps up that much more.

“God,” she breathes, mimicking the way he’s cupping her, just to feel him.

Dean presses his forehead to hers. “Y’okay?” He asks, and she pulls in a shaky breath and nods. He nods in return, pulling his hand from under her skirt and helping her to her feet.

“Can I undress you?” He asks, holding her hands and eyes with his. The essence of this gaze is a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from the one in the broom closet. Gone is the craft and guile from earlier in the evening. This look isn’t veiled; it’s open and longing, and she’s stunned by the realness.

“Yes,” she answers, and he kisses her lips before circling behind her, her skin prickling in anticipation.

His hands are on her, ghosting over her skin, outward across her shoulders then down her arms. He pushes her hair over the front of her shoulder and presses a wet kiss to the scripted tattoo on the nape of her neck then peppers smaller kisses and nips down her spine between her shoulder blades. His breath is warm as it caresses her.

When he reaches under her arm to unzip the side of her dress she melts into him, resting her head back on his shoulder and gripping his solid thighs. The dress cascades to the floor, pooling at her bare feet. Dean pops the clasp on her strapless bra and it lands atop the heap of pink chiffon. He doesn’t waste a second before his warm hands cup her breasts, fingers and thumbs lightly pulling on her hardening nipples.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she reaches one hand up behind her to grasp the back of his head. She pushes at his open pants with her other hand. “Get these off and get inside me,” she breathes.

She feels him smile against her skin. “Yes, ma’am.” His hands and body leave her and she’s chilled. She turns to see him sitting on the bed, unlacing and removing his boots and socks before neatly setting them aside. He stands and shucks his jeans and boxers to the floor then reaches for her.

“Why don’t you drive,” he says, twisting and twining their fingers and hands and swaying from side to side. Vanessa feels what he’s giving her. She’s emboldened by his confidence in her and she seizes the moment.

“Okay,” she says, feeling less vulnerable than she should, being naked with a large unfamiliar man in her hotel room. “Lie back, get comfy.”

Dean does as he’s told, sitting then slinking backward on the bed until he settles against the pillows. He reminds her of a cat again - the way he moves, sure of himself and utterly in control of his body in a way that makes her shiver anew.

She climbs onto the big plush bed and crawls over him. He’s so beautiful and Vanessa doesn’t think that word very often when describing such a masculine creature, but it fits him perfectly - from his head to his toes, to the tips of his fingers and his hard, thick cock.

“I still owe you.” Vanessa slides one knee between his legs. “Technically,” she says, wrapping a hand around his length and settling over one meaty thigh. “I owe you three.”

Dean slides a hand up her bare thigh and revels in her slick coating his skin where she sits. “Gonna be a long night, then,” he says, tilting his head.

Vanessa laughs. “Oh, yeah?” She twists her hand around his cock and he rolls his head back with a wide grin. “Why’s that?”

He’s leaking precum and she uses her other hand to swirl a finger around his tip to gather it then slides it into her mouth to taste him. He opens his eyes and looks back at her just in time to watch her finger disappear between her lips, and he groans.

“Well,” he breathes. “I like bein’ ahead in my numbers, Vanessa.” His hands are squeezing her thighs in a rhythm she can’t place until she realizes it’s the same rhythm she’s set around his cock.

“Is that a challenge, Dean?” Vanessa grinds her cunt into his thigh, rotating her clit, vaguely wondering if getting herself off counts if she’s using his leg to do it.

“Up to you,” he says, his voice raw and rough - even rougher than usual.

Vanessa scoots back, slicking his thigh with her want and dips her head to lick him. “Mmm,” she moans and she isn’t making it up - he tastes like salt and earth and man. He smells like fire and metal and she’s overloaded by it all, but she wants more. She takes him into her mouth and Dean digs his fingers into the skin of her thighs.

Vanessa slides out of his reach to get a better angle on his cock. She isn’t ready to take him all the way down her throat, yet, and she kind of wants to tease him a little - see how far she can push him.

She swirls her tongue around his thickness, holding him steady at his base, and slides her other hand down under to stroke the rest of him. Dean’s gripping the sheets as he bends the knee of his free leg and lets it fall to the side, opening himself to her. Vanessa takes the hint and slides a finger along the crack of his ass and he hisses.

“Shit,” he whispers, throbbing against her tongue.

She swipes her finger deeper, squeezes his cock hard then slides down onto him until he hits the back of her throat. She pulls off and presses her finger more insistently against his hole and he’s arching off the bed and crying out. He’s still so hard, though, and she’s glad because she really wants him to come in her mouth.

“Don’t come yet,” she says, slowly massaging his tight ring. She’s gauging whether or not to breach him. She can tell that he’ll love it and she’s sure he can take it, but even she’s overstimulated right now. “I want you in my mouth when you come the first time.”

Dean’s jaw clenches tightly and he groans loud again. “Then ya better get on my dick, sweetheart, because I ain’t gonna last much longer,” he grits out.

Vanessa’s panting hot breath when she takes him in her mouth again. She works to loosen her jaw and relax her throat and pushes down over him until her airway is closed with the breadth of him, so she’s breathing deep through her nose. She reaches for his hand and drops it on the back of her head before she starts to move.

Dean slips his fingers through her tangled curls. His body wants to fuck into her tight, wet throat but he’s pretty sure she knows exactly what she’s doing.

She swallows and sucks and wraps her tongue around him, and after a few more passes, she pushes the tip of her finger inside him and presses, and he gasps, lifting his hips off the bed and pushing all the way down her throat. When he comes it’s hot and heavy and she’s choking on it.

She can’t swallow it all, as much as she wants to. He’s spilled down her chin and jaw and neck. He’s panting heavily and before she can get up for a washcloth to clean up he hauls her against him and kisses her deep and long. She’s never known a guy who would kiss her with his cum still on her tongue and lips.

Dean rolls her to her back and then rolls himself off the bed. She watches him walk to the bathroom. He walks like his legs are heavy and his dick’s in the way. When he returns, he has a warm, wet washcloth and a hand towel.

“Thanks,” she says, sitting up and reaching for the washcloth.

Dean lays the towel aside and clasps her outreached hand in his. “Let me?” He asks and she blushes like he didn’t just come in her mouth.

She nods and Dean climbs between her legs. “Lay back,” he says, swiping the warm wet cloth over her lips and chin and down her neck. She lies still as he wedges his open knees under her thighs, pitching her hips upward, thoroughly cleaning her and kissing her. He tosses the soiled rag to the floor and hovers over her, hands braced on either side of her chest.

He drops his lips over and over along the thin skin of her throat, remembering how well she took him moments before and he starts to swell between her legs. Her hands are in his hair and running the expanse of his hard, perfectly flawed body and she feels him rubbing against her swollen clit.

“Dean,” Vanessa whispers, lazily rolling her lips in his lap for more friction and burrowing her shoulders into the fluffy pillows as he makes his way to her mouth. “Dean...” She doesn’t know what she’s trying to say. She feels everything at that moment and she doesn’t want to stop. She wants him inside her, but she also just likes feeling him this way.

She’s opened up and exposed to him in a similar way to how he was to her earlier, and the feeling is electric and erotic. She arches her back and he drags his lips and tongue to her breast, circling one with his tongue and gently pulling on the other with thumb and fingers.

“Inside, Dean,” she reaches for his hardening cock and strokes him lightly then squeezes. “Please.”

He lets her grip him and slip him along her slit, and he swells even more, cupping a breast in his palm to gently squeeze and suck. “Are you-” he starts.

“I’m covered,” she says, lining him up with her slick opening. “Please.”

He nods and drops his hips, pushing inside her slowly and she lifts her feet to hook behind his back, spurring him on. He has the leverage though, especially when he rises to his knees, bringing her hips with him. He loops a forearm under her, holding her in place then splays his big hand over her lower belly, the heel of his hand pressing over her clit, his thrusts are shallow but hard.

“What’re you-” she gasps. “Holy... Dean.” He looks down at her with distilled hunger. She’s never felt anything like it, the intense pressure building in the spot she always thought to be an elusive point of concentration; but it’s filling her full with liquid heat and searing her from the inside.

The combination of his dick bumping and rubbing that spot inside and his big, heavy hand pressing down where they’re connected - she’s losing control of everything. Vanessa starts to see spots in her vision and she tries to remember to breathe. Then she’s exploding, wet and hot and everything fades to black.

When she comes to, Dean’s curled around her back, the pleasant weight of his arm thrown across her waist, and they’re burrowed under the luxury of the hotel covers. He’s turned the TV on, but he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. Instead, he’s drawing lazy circles on her belly and brushing his lips back and forth against her neck.

Vanessa sighs and nuzzles back into his warmth. “How long was I out?” She asked, her voice cracking from overuse and dehydration. Dean reaches for a bottle of water on the nightstand and hands it to her.

“Five minutes, maybe,” he mutters, pulling her earlobe between his lips.

She props herself up on one arm and gulps the water down. When the covers fall away from her skin, Dean traces the curve of her side with a calloused finger, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

When the bottle’s empty, Vanessa lays back in place and thrusts her ass into his groin. He’s incredibly hard and he easily slips between her slick thighs and blessedly up between her wet lips. “Fuck, keep doing that,” Vanessa says.

“Ready for another round already,” Dean says, sliding through the wet, forward and back, a little more insistent than earlier. He lifts her leg at the knee, opening her and tucking it back over his hip and pushes inside her.

Vanessa shivers deep in her core because he’s dragging over that spot inside again. She’s had plenty of orgasms in her life but never one that intense and she’s not sure she can handle another. “Jesus, Dean, what’re you doing to me?” She twines her fingers with the hand that’s holding her open and grips the pillow with her other.

He kisses her neck with a small, quiet laugh. “What d’you want me to do?” He asks, rolling her to her stomach and she doubts this will be any less intense.

“Honestly?” She asks. “Anything you want at this point, I’m just... jelly.”

Dean laughs and settles back on his feet between her legs. He massages her thighs and hips and ass, sliding his thumbs along that sweet, sensitive crease between her ass and upper thigh to run them along her soaking wet slit and up between her ass cheeks.

Vanessa groans. “I’ve never had anyone in my ass, but if you want it you can have it,” she speaks dreamily. “I mean it - anything you want.”

“No,” he says, running his wet hands up her back and digging his thumbs into her shoulders. “Tell me what you want.”

She thinks about his question. She wasn’t lying - anything he did would surely be magnificent - but what she really wants is simple. She wants him hard and deep inside her. “I wanna feel you for days after this.”

Dean nods without her seeing it and drags his hands back down her body, pulling her hips until she’s on her hands and knees. “How many days?” He asks, pushing her knees together with his.

Vanessa’s breath shudders in anticipation. “Oh, I dunno,” her voice is unreasonably strained and high-pitched and she swallows hard. “Six or seven?”

Her thighs are slick with her arousal. Dean pushes a hand between her legs and drags two fingers back through her slit. He’s got one ass cheek gripped and pulled open with one big hand and he’s spreading the wet all over with his fingers. He circles the tight ring with the tip of his middle finger a few times then guides himself inside her cunt.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dean says, once he’s fully seated inside her. She’s relaxed and really fucking wet, so it wasn’t hard for him to get inside, but she is so full of him. She feels every centimeter of him as he moves back and forth, even the slightest bit of slide. She feels his head bump and brush her back wall and it makes her knees buckle.

“Here,” he presses a hand between her shoulder blades and she lowers, tucking a pillow under her chest to make room for her head to hang comfortably against the mattress.

When he moves again, he’s right back at that spot that made her make such a mess earlier. “Fuck, Dean, you like that spot, huh?”

He laughs, slowly but persistently dragging across that spot and sliding his thumb over her tight asshole. “Well, yeah,” he says. “Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” she shakily echoes his sentiment. “But I blacked out and made a goddamn mess last time.” She exhales deeply.

“Hey,” he leans forward, draping himself over her. “I just wanna make you feel good.” He rotates his hips and she can feel him in her gut. “If you don’t want this-”

“I do,” she says, arching her neck to kiss his lips, where they’re so close to hers. “Seven days, Dean. Let’s do this.”

Dean grins then kisses the tip of her nose before kneeling behind her once again. He pulls back and pushes in slow and steady. Vanessa breathes through it, hugging the plush pillow to her chest. He picks up his pace and every stroke against her galvanizes her to ecstasy. Before she knows it, there’s a snap and crackle from inside her, sizzling across her hips and out. She’s definitely coming but she’s never had an orgasm like this before - again - this one’s like a million tiny flutters and they’re everywhere.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes. She’s clenching around him and he thinks that he can’t hold it much longer. He pulls out and rolls her to her back, slides his hands under her legs and lifting, so she's wide open and her feet are resting on his shoulders. He slams back into her and she’s still coming. She shouts out loud and he keeps hammering into her. “Oh, fuck,” he swears again.

“Yes, Dean,” she breathes, raking her nails across his shoulders, leaving marks behind. “Yes,” she sobs, and she just hopes that Emma is still downstairs.

She feels him spill inside her hot and deep, scorching. He drops his forehead to hers in that endearing way that she’s come to love and then slowly lowers himself to settle between her legs.

He’s still inside her as he kisses her. She runs her hands everywhere she can and drops her feet to the bed, so she’s hugging his hips. They’re so warm like this, entwined and connected, deep and wet. His kisses are slow but deliberate.

“Need anything?” He asks, kissing her jaw and neck. He’s propped on his elbows so he’s not crushing her with his body mass, but she kind of wants that.

She shakes her head and sighs. She’s already pleasantly sore and aching in all the right places and just having him like this is like the cherry on top of the most delicious sundae she’s ever had.

Then she feels him stir inside her and her hips involuntarily thrust up into him. “You’re kidding,” she says, catching his eye.

He looks almost shy for a second. “I don’t kid about this kinda thing,” he says, swiveling his hips and pushing into her. He’s steadily growing inside her and it’s the most erotic feeling she’s ever felt.

“Dean, you’re not real,” she huffs an exhausted laugh. “This is a dream, right?”

He laughs in return and kisses her then starts thrusting in earnest. He pushes her legs open, bracing his hands on the insides of her knees, flattening them to the mattress. “Think this’ll get you through seven days?” He asks and she’s helpless beneath him. She nods and takes all that he gives.

~~~~~~~

“Mornin’,” Vanessa hears Katie’s voice behind her as she heaps cheesy eggs and bacon onto her plate.

She and Dean took a ridiculously long, hot shower and she’s scrubbed clean of all makeup or hair products, or evidence that Dean ever existed. But her body remembers him.

“Hey,” Vanessa returns with a lopsided smile. She barely slept and she is definitely ready for a nap, but she’s starving so she decided to join the wedding party for brunch and gift opening.

“Where’s Paul Newman?” Katies asks, helping herself to some eggs, nudging and side-eyeing Vanessa.

Vanessa breathes a small laugh. “He does have that look, doesn’t he?” She says dreamily, dumping salsa over her eggs. She suddenly imagined him in a suit, debonair and dashing.

“Yeah, he does,” Katie replies, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Vanessa’s ear. “You okay?”

Vanessa looks her in the eye. “Yeah,” she answers, feeling a little guilty for her hostility toward the wedding party the night before. The women - apart from the bride - have been fantastic to her. “I am. I’m spent, but I’m... good.”

Katie groans and rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing. “Ugh, that good, huh?”

Vanessa nods with a grin. “That good.”

They head to the Bloody Mary bar. “Did he leave?” Katie asks, delicately, gauging Vanessa’s reaction.

Vanessa nods. “Couple hours ago.” The regret claws at her stomach as they sit with Emma and her boyfriend at a round table. Vanessa’s lack of sleep creeps up on her. She feels tears prick her eyes.

Emma reaches for her hand. “Hey,” she says with a wide grin. “How was your night?”

Vanessa accepts Emma’s warm hand in hers with a nod. "It was pretty fucking amazing," she answers. "One might say he left a lasting impression."

Emma snorts. "I bet he did!"

And Vanessa really does feel him for the next seven days, pleasantly deep inside her heart and her soul.

If you like what you’ve read, please let me know and/or buy me a coffee!

#dean winchester fic #dean x ofc #spn fic

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apassionateman · 5 years

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A Constitutional Commander in Chief...

The Constitution (Article II, section 2) specifies “The President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, and of the militia [not to be confused with the National Guard] of the several states, when called into the actual Service of the United States.” This language provides the president with constitutional powers over the armed forces, powers shared with Congress; but the constitutional framework leaves several unsettling questions unanswered. May the president use force if he believes an attack were imminent; use force without a declaration of war; defend American lives and property abroad; execute treaty obligations involving the armed forces; or engage in “coercive diplomacy” to get leaders of other nations to accede to his wishes?

The president's "Most important" and primary duty as commander in chief is to Defend the United States, its territories and possessions and its armed forces, from any and all attacks. [Nothing about being “likeable”] Domestically, this may mean using or threatening to use force to make sure laws are faithfully executed, as George Washington did when he rode out at the head of a column of troops to put down the Whiskey Rebellion, as Andrew Jackson did in 1832 when he threatened to use force against South Carolina if it did not permit collection of the tariff, and as Abraham Lincoln did to end the secession of Southern states. Presidents may also use the armed forces to maintain “the peace of the United States,” as several presidents in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries did in enforcing district court injunctions against striking miners and railway workers.

Presidents are not expected or required to march at the heads of their armed forces. Some, such as Franklin D. Roosevelt, Lyndon B. Johnson, and George Bush, maintained close control over military operations, not only reviewing strategy but controlling the details of specific missions. They communicated directly with key theater commanders. Others, such as Woodrow Wilson and Harry S. Truman, set overall parameters, but tended to rely more on going through channels and trusting the judgment of their top commanders. As Lincoln discovered during the Civil War, the most important war power the president possesses is the power to hire and fire those commanders.

The most controversial constitutional issue involves presidential war-making without a declaration from Congress, when presidents depend solely on their constitutional prerogative as commander in chief. Outside the United States, presidents have used the armed forces without congressional declarations of war in more than 230 instances, relying on constitutional prerogative. Fewer than half of these instances involved prior legislative authorization. Almost all use of force by presidents in the nineteenth century without a declaration of war involved minor incidents—mostly against pirates and bandits. Uses of force in hostilities without congressional sanction in the twentieth century, however, have involved much wider operations against organized governments. With large numbers of American soldiers killed or wounded in pursuit of foreign policy goals, such actions raised serious questions of constitutionality.

Uses of force based on the commander in chief's power include gaining additional territory for the United States, such as Florida (actions of James Monroe and John Quincy Adams), the American Southwest (during the Mexican War), and Hawaii. Presidents may order actions against politically unorganized pirates and bandits, drug smugglers, and terrorists may involve limited incursion into another state or its airspace or territorial waters. Presidents may order the evacuation of U.S. citizens and interventions to protect American lives and property during disorders in foreign nations. In some situations, the United States may be involved unilaterally or multilaterally in efforts to restore law and order in other nations. During the last half of the nineteenth century, the U.S. Army fought frontier wars against Indian tribes. In the early twentieth century, presidents ordered U.S. forces to intervene in Caribbean nations to administer their assets on behalf of their creditors; these included Haiti, Nicaragua, the Dominican Republic, and Cuba. Presidents have used force to topple regimes unfriendly to the United States, such as the Dominican Republic (1965), Grenada (1982), Panama (1989), and Haiti (1994).

Presidents have enforced blockades [defined as intervening in potential threats to all borders] and quarantines, for example, the quarantine of Cuba during the Cuban Missile Crisis (1962–63); the blockade of Iraq in 1990 to attempt to pressure this nation to withdraw from Kuwait; the subsequent blockade designed to ensure acquiescence in United Nations resolutions; and the blockade of Haiti in 1993 in an effort to force a change in government. Since the early 1950s, presidents have had the capacity to launch preemptive or retaliatory nuclear strikes in the event of all‐out nuclear war, or to order a nuclear “first use” against an enemy in the process of defeating U.S. conventional forces. The exigencies of the use of nuclear weapons make it highly unlikely Congress could be part of such a decision. More recently, presidents have used U.S. forces for United Nations' or other multilateral peacekeeping, humanitarian, or monitoring operations, such as the protection of foreign aid workers in Somalia in 1992–93, the relief of famine in Rwanda in 1994, and the NATO peacekeeping mission in Bosnia beginning in 1995.

The most controversial use of presidential power has involved deployment of U.S. forces in major hostilities without a declaration of war. Three major instances come to mind: North Korea (1950–53), North Vietnam (1964–73), and Iraq (1991). In the Korean and Iraq hostilities, Presidents Truman and Bush cited UN authorization. However, Truman used force prior to obtaining UN authorization, and neither president followed the procedures set down by Congress in the UN Participation Act (1945), which required congressional approval for commitments of force in UN operations. In the Vietnam War, President Johnson claimed he was executing provisions of SEATO, yet the relevant provisions required consultation with other signatory nations and did not specify the use of military force to deal with a civil war between two “military regroupment zones” (i.e., North and South Vietnam). In all three cases, presidents acted according to their prerogative power, and in Korea and Vietnam, no hostilities were authorized by Congress (though the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution did authorize Johnson to use necessary measures to protect U.S. forces). Indeed, the War Powers Resolution of 1973 sought to impose Congressional approval for committing U.S. troops to combat. In 1991, Bush lobbied Congress for authorization to use force to implement UN resolutions; but in his signing statement once a resolution had been passed, the president refused to concede he had needed such authorization, claiming instead he had “constitutional authority to use the Armed Forces to defend vital U.S. interests.” Congress passed a second resolution reiterating its understanding the president had been required to obtain prior authorization from Congress before using force against Iraq, leaving the two institutions at loggerheads about the authority of the president to engage in military actions to implement UN resolutions.

Use of the armed forces exposes the incumbent to significant political risk. Presidents Truman and Johnson became so unpopular because of mounting casualties during the Korean and Vietnam Wars, both decided not to run for second elected terms. Studies have shown there is a direct correlation between increased casualties in congressional districts and a drop in approval for the war—and for the commander in chief who authorized it. To minimize this political risk, presidents in the post–Vietnam era authorizing operations which involve overwhelming force against weak opponents—the operations in Grenada, Panama, and Haiti—and have tightly controlled the media so the reportage emphasizes military successes rather than any operational failures. Such quick operations have been highly successful politically, resulting in a “rally ’round the flag” effect and an upward surge in popularity for the commander in chief. Presidents have also been reluctant to remain involved in operations with significant American casualties. President Reagan withdrew American forces from Lebanon after 240 Marines were killed in a bombing of the American barracks; President Clinton withdrew forces from Somalia after eighteen army Rangers were killed in military operations.

Since the end of the Cold War, the commander in chief's power shifted direction towards on the use of a portion of armed forces for humanitarian, policing, and peacekeeping operations. Does the president have the power to assign U.S. forces to foreign command? Can Congress prohibit or regulate such assignments? Republicans in their 1994 “Contract with America” proposed a National Security Restoration Act to prohibit such assignments, in a replay of the partisan controversy over a Democratic president's power to do so during the Korean War (when U.S. troops were nominally under UN command). Although such a prohibition did not pass, the constitutional questions involving presidential use of force remain open in the post–Cold War era.

It's all about posturing of military power and doing so in manners befitting one willing to pragmatically perform in global and now domestically stressful times.

NOTE: This is NOT up for derogatory commentary. You will be BLOCKED!

#APM #Constitutional President

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shawrulez · 5 years

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Random ask

1 . what was the last thing you read? Post orders at work.

2. favourite movie? Chasing mavericks

3. favourite book? Besides the Bible probably mere Christianity by C.s. Lewis

4. dream date? Talking for hours at Starbucks and then having a fire at my apartment

5. do you have a crush? Not at the moment

6. what are your hobbies? Drawing and brewing tea

7. what’s your favourite time of day? Bedtime

8. if you could look like anything, what would you look like? Taller and a darker skin tone

9. are you a romantic? Not really but if I find the right woman I’ll try my best

10. what’s your favourite type of weather? Snowy winter days or cool spring days

11. what do you like talking about? The Bible and Supernatural stuff like Bigfoot and ufos

12. what are your turn ons? Idk I just want someone who loves God and is smarter than me

13. turn offs? Judgmental attitudes and people who drink to much or think it’s cool to smoke.

14. if you got a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I want to get something on my thighs I’m just not sure what exactly

15. do you want any pets? Not really but maybe if they are not too messy

16. dream job? Something I can do from home. Or a middle school or high school history teacher

17. dream place to live? Somewhere with a lot of land so I can have a garden and homestead.

18. dream vacation? I want to go to Colorado and go skiing or hawaii again.

19. do you want any piercings? Not really. Maybe gauges one day.

20. if you had kids, what would you name them? Alex for a boy or girl idk maybe jasmine or something biblical.

#ireneisthebest #asks #quiet-spirittt

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abramsbooks · 6 years

Photo

RECIPE: The flame-grilled burger (from The Great American Burger Book by George Motz)

Cooking over direct flame is one of the most difficult ways to make a hamburger. One of the reasons so many of the hamburgers made a hundred years ago were cooked on flat tops was simply because the results were predictably good. Squash a ball of beef on a skillet and reap the rewards of the path of least resistance. I also would imagine that way back then, lighting a big charcoal grill and flame cooking at small burger stands and joints throughout America would have been pretty dangerous.

But we all know that a burger cooked on a flame grill is a very different burger.

It’s easy to master the skillet-cooked burger. Grilling a burger on open flame requires more dedication to the craft, more time, more equipment, and a willingness to fail. That’s because cooking on an outdoor grill can be very unpredictable. The grill master is at the mercy of uneven temperatures, depending on the type of coals used and where those coals are in relation to the grilling grate. Even the weather can be a factor. The outdoor propane grill solves a few of these issues, but if you really want to experience a flame-cooked burger, super-hot charcoal is the only way to go.

There’s something fundamental and primal in our desire to harness fire and grill. “The greatest advantage to cooking over flame is the grilled flavor,” Michael Ollier, corporate chef at Certified Angus Beef®, told me once, adding with a smile, “I crave that.” It’s a flavor that you cannot ever achieve cooking on a flat top or by any other method. Chef Ollier explained the science behind this perfectly: “The fat that drips onto the coals becomes airborne, flavoring your burgers.”

The keys to grilling success are high heat and confidence. Get your coals super hot and your tools, patties, and condiments ready to go, and you’ll be all set up to grill like a pro. When family and friends are hovering around you at the grill, waiting for magic, it may feel like there’s a lot at stake. Just follow the recipe below for the classic grilled cheeseburger—and remember, practice makes perfect.

Makes 8 burgers

Equipment

A 3½-inch (9-cm) food ring or round cutter

Parchment paper

A charcoal chimney

Natural lump charcoal

A 22-inch (55-cm) Weber Kettle charcoal grill, or similar

A stiff spatula (with a long handle)

The Burger

2½ pounds (about 1 kg) fresh-ground 80/20 chuck

Salt and coarse black pepper, for seasoning

8 soft white buns

The Toppings

8 thick slices American, cheddar, or any other good melting cheese

Green-leaf lettuce

1 or 2 red beefsteak tomatoes, sliced

1 medium Vidalia or Walla Walla onion, sliced

Divide the beef into 8 equal portions (5 ounces/140 g each).

Place the food ring on a cutting board or clean surface lined with parchment paper and add a portion of beef. Gently press the beef into the ring to create a perfectly round patty. (I use the ring for consistent thickness, but you can eyeball the size if you prefer. Both methods work fine. Just be sure not to over press the meat—you want it to maintain a somewhat loose grind.)

Return the patties to the fridge to chill until you’re ready to grill (hey, that rhymes).

Using the chimney starter, light the charcoal. When coals are ready, transfer them to the kettle grill, making sure that the bottom vent is open. Spread the coals out, leaving a small space on one side (as a rest spot in case things get too hot in there).

Place the grate over the coals and, using a grill brush, scrape off any residual buildup from your last grilling adventure. Cover the grill and make sure that the top vent is wide open. Give your grill grate a chance to heat up—you don’t want to plop raw burger patties onto a lukewarm grill. That grate should be ridiculously hot!

At this point, and not before, season both sides of your patties with a liberal amount of salt and pepper. Salting too early will bind the muscle fibers together and make your burgers tough (yuck).

Place the patties on the hot grill grate, cover the grill, and leave them alone. Allow the patties to cook for about 5 minutes. The cooking time can vary depending on environmental and equipment factors, so you’ll have to use your best judgment here. Chef Michael Ollier from Certified Angus Beef put it best when he told me, “Let the burger speak to you.” If you understand this statement, you’re probably drinking too much at the grill. But seriously, with experience comes wisdom—the burger will actually tell you when it’s time to flip. One good visual cue is when you see red liquid start to form on the uncooked surface of the burger. Go ahead and take a peek just shy of 5 minutes.

This would be a good time to toast your buns. Toast them indoors using a skillet on your stovetop or toast them with butter in a small cast-iron skillet, directly on the grill.

Cook the second side (again, untouched and covered) for an additional 4 minutes. With about 1 minute to go, top each patty with a slice of cheese and cover the grill. As the burgers finish cooking, slide them to the cooler rest spot section of the grill, away from the hot coals. Once all your burgers are done, remove them from the heat and allow them to rest for 1½ minutes. The internal temperature of the burgers should be about 143°F (62°C) for medium-rare.

Top the toasted buns with the lettuce, tomato, and onion slices, or your condiments of choice. (I love a good, crisp slice of onion on my grilled burgers, as well as mustard, pickle, and sometimes mayonnaise.) Transfer the patties to the toasted buns and serve.

The Great American Burger Book is the first book to showcase a wide range of regional hamburger styles and cooking methods. Author and burger expert George Motz covers traditional grilling techniques as well as how to smoke, steam, poach, and deep-fry burgers based on signature recipes from around the country. Each chapter is dedicated to a specific regional burger, from the tortilla burger of New Mexico to the classic New York–style pub burger, and from the fried onion burger of Oklahoma to Hawaii’s Loco Moco. Motz provides expert instruction, tantalizing recipes, and vibrant color photography to help you create unique variations on America’s favorite dish in your own home.

Recipes feature regional burgers from: California, Connecticut, Florida, Hawaii, Iowa, Kansas, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, and Wisconsin.

For more information, click here.

#abramsbooks #abrams books #the great american burger book #great american burger book #burger book #george motz #flame grilled #flame grilled burger #burger #the perfect burger

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newsfact · 3 years

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Supreme Court refuses to block Maine’s COVID-19 vaccine mandate for health care workers

The U.S. Supreme Court has rejected an emergency appeal from Maine health care workers to halt a COVID-19 vaccine mandate that took effect Friday.

Health care workers at hospitals and nursing homes throughout the state risk losing their jobs if they are not vaccinated and religious exemptions are not being offered.

Supreme Court Justice nominee Neil Gorsuch listens as he is asked a question by Sen. Mazie Hirono, D-Hawaii, on Capitol Hill in Washington, Wednesday, March 22, 2017, during his confirmation hearing before the Senate Judiciary Committee. (AP Photo/Susan Walsh) (AP)

Three justices – Neil Gorsuch, Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito – signed on to a dissent written by Gorsuch, who suggested they would have adhered to the request from Maine health care workers.

“This case presents an important constitutional question, a serious error, and an irreparable injury,” Gorsuch wrote. “Where many other States have adopted religious exemptions, Maine has charted a different course. There, healthcare workers who have served on the front line of a pandemic for the last 18 months are now being fired and their practices shuttered. All for adhering to their constitutionally protected religious beliefs.”

Seated from left to right: Justices Samuel A. Alito, Jr. and Clarence Thomas, Chief Justice John G. Roberts, Jr. and Justices Stephen G. Breyer and Sonia Sotomayor. Standing from left to right: Justices Brett M. Kavanaugh, Elena Kagan, Neil M. Gorsuch,and Amy Coney Barrett. (Photograph by Fred Schilling, Collection of the Supreme Court of the United States) (Supreme Court of the United States)

“Their plight is worthy of our attention,” Gorsuch added. “I would grant relief.”

In a statement agreeing with the court’s unwillingness to involve itself in the matter, Justice Amy Coney Barrett, who was joined by Justice Brett Kavanaugh, said the court has “discretionary judgment” on whether to take emergency appeals like this and claimed the court was being asked to “grant extraordinary relief.”

Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett is sworn in during a confirmation hearing before the Senate Judiciary Committee, Monday, Oct. 12, 2020, on Capitol Hill. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky, Pool) (AP)

Democratic Gov. Janet Mills ordered Maine’s vaccine requirement. A federal judge in Maine declined to stop the mandate, concluding that a lawsuit was unlikely to succeed. The Oct. 13 decision prompted a flurry of appeals that landed, for a second time, in the Supreme Court.

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP

The Liberty Counsel, which filed the lawsuit, claimed to be representing more than 2,000 health care workers who don’t want to be forcibly vaccinated.

In August, Barrett denied an appeal from students at Indiana University to block the school’s vaccine mandate.

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illionoisprelawland-blog · 3 years

Text

The Potential Solution May Hide In Common Law: Non-Competing Agreement

By Yutai Qiao, University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign Class of 2020

July 22, 2021

Those who have practiced LSAT may have encountered an article that discusses a dilemma of business secrets, intellectual property, and freedom of employment choice. The dilemma goes that if an employee has accessed the business secret or intellectual property of one company, then leaving and employment in another company of the employee, especially a competing one with the company, may undermine the security of the previous employers. The reason is rather complicated. If the legislature forbids employees to enter competing companies, it will violate the freedom of employment choice of that individual. If the legislature passes a law to protect the security of intellectual property and business secrets, it would be hard to enforce. For example, if a former employee of a food company, after being hired by a competitor, discloses a secret recipe to the competitor, it would be hard to find out the recipe is disclosed or developed independently, especially when the burden of proof lies on the original company. However, if there were no legislation at all, the situation would be more chaotic to an extent that no security of business secrets and intellectual property is guaranteed at all.

Obligationenrecht or Obligation (Recht) in German law can directly translate into obligation right. This right is a part of the right in the property in the common law. It entails that one individual subject to civil law is obliged to another individual to perform a behavior (such as pay the debt) or not to perform a behavior. The later obligation includes not seeking employment in a competing company or related industries for a given number of years. Contracts provide the clause that prohibits former or current employees from joining a competing company is called a non-competing agreement. The non-competing agreement, if enforced properly, could be a balanced compromise between individual freedom of employment choice and the security of proprietary information of the company. First, the provision of the non-competing agreement can properly protect proprietary information such as business secrets or intellectual property. The given period in which employees are not allowed to join a competing company is usually two to three years. After this period, information that the employee has might be outdated or no longer a secret. Thus, even if the employee joined a competing company and intentionally disclosed such information, the original company would not receive great harm. On the employee’s side, the employer often offers a base salary or other forms of financial compensation for the years in which the employee cannot join a related company according to the provision of a non-competing agreement. After the period, the employee will return to a state of freedom of employment choice. Meanwhile, this agreement is an agreement in the first place. If well informed before signing the contract, an individual will make a sound judgment on whether to sign the contract and non-competing agreement in it. Those who weigh freedom of choice over the given employment can choose not to sign the contract while those who value the employment more important can sign the contract according to their wills.

However, in the United States, the legality of a non-competing agreement is not guaranteed in every state due to the potential negative influence it may impose on society. In North Dakota, Oklahoma, and California, the non-compete agreement cannot be enforced. Meanwhile, in Hawaii, it is banned from high-tech companies. In Utah, it is limited to up to one year. In other states, different standards apply to the non-competing agreement.2 In Reliable Fire Equipment Co. v. Arrendondo, the Illinois supreme court endorsed the principle that the non-competing agreement should not extend the protection over what is required, should not impose excessive hardship to employees, and should not cause any public cost. Meanwhile, the employer has the burden to prove that the business interest can be harmed by the unfair competition if the employee seeks employment in the employer’s competitor.3 This landscape decision, by considering the non-competing agreement in its provision, its effect on the contracted employees, and its effect on the public, laid an example of how jurisdiction can protect individuals from being exploited by overly onerous non-competing agreement.

Though a non-competing agreement has its limitation, it still set a good start to protecting both the employee’s freedom of choice and employer’s proprietary information while it needs to be further regulated and carefully balanced by jurisdiction and legislation.

______________________________________________________________

1. Picture from “INFORMATION SECURITY MANAGEMENT SYSTEM CERTIFICATION”. 2021. Bureau Veritas India. https://www.bureauveritas.co.in/information-security-management-system-certification.

2. Hayes, Adam. 2021. "Non-Compete Agreements: What You Need To Know". Investopedia. https://www.investopedia.com/terms/n/noncompete-agreement.asp.

3. Reliable Fire Equipment Co. v. Arrendondo, 4 IL 111871. (2011).

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kclenhartnovels · 6 years

Text

White Lies

[For new readers, start here. If you want to be tagged in future updates, please let me know.

@flannelandsarcasm @polapipo @quill-of-thoth @itstheenglishkid @gingerly-writing @littlefearsdoodles @knightedwriter ]

Merrick returned to Abby running late, but with such a lightness in his chest he felt as if he were flying the whole way. It didn't matter how late he was; she was always later. By the time he got back to her, she was still throwing on her clothes and searching for her badge for the lab, swearing up and down all the while. He casually moved her badge onto the bedside table from where it had fallen into a pile of dirty clothes, and whispered soothing words in her ear to get her to breathe.

If only he knew the words to get his own fluttering heart to calm.

Somehow, between his gentle nudges and Abby's whirlwind, they were both out the door and into her car in the next twenty minutes. Merrick quietly influenced the lights to turn green a touch sooner, for cars to switch lanes, hoping between that and her lead foot, she would be to work more or less on time. This internship was everything that she wanted in life—he couldn't let something as simple as her disorganization at home be the reason her passion was quelled. Besides, Teremun said her research was important, and to keep her on track. And he needed his job, too.

Unless he got another assignment. After all, wouldn't be converting a demon to an angel be more important than one more human soul? Especially one who didn't seem at all to be on the path to damnation? While Abby gathered her belongings and hurried into the concrete building, Merrick trailed after her with his thoughts anywhere but his charge. The question was more, how could he convince Teremun?

And would the man even give him the time of day?

Would he give it to Fletcher?

Would any of the angels see that the demon, despite his anger and his frustration, despite his trigger-finger and his pride, was worthy of saving?

“I'm sorry I'm late, Dr. Georgian,” Abby greeted, practically throwing her purse and jacket into a locker and flashing the older man a smile. “Traffic was terrible.”

“You're technically not late today,” he assured, holding out a white lab coat for her. “Did your other job keep you late?”

“You shouldn't lie,” Merrick put in quietly. “He doesn't seem to care if you're late or not. You do a good job. Just tell him the truth. He'll forgive.”

“Yeah,” Abby lied. “Lots of packages this time of year.”

Merrick scrubbed his hand across his face. Maybe she did need a bit of work, but white lies weren't enough to damn a soul nowadays.

“We're expecting a visitor today,” Georgian began, leading her into the lab proper. “Someone who has done a bit of research like ours, and may have some input.”

Abby twirled her hair into a bun as she walked, balancing a pen between her teeth. “I didn't think anyone was doing research like ours,” she slurred around the pen, before she sucked her spit back into her mouth and wiggled the pen into her hair, holding the bun in place.

“Sexy,” Merrick noted dryly. “Honey, we need to buy you some real hair supplies, instead of Bic pens.”

Georgian shrugged. “He approached me about it. I received a call from him yesterday. He said he read on my theories of internal energy and had some leads for us to follow.”

“Internal energy,” Abby repeated with a sigh. “You sure he's not just coming to mock us, like the last reporter that came through?”

“The last reporter was an asshole,” Merrick put in, as if he could be heard. He perched on the edge of one of the metal tables, folding his wings thoughtfully. “He called Dr. Georgian a crackpot. But you know, I may not really understand what you're doing here, but I think he's onto something.”

“He is onto something.”

A rustle of wings startled the young angel, and he twisted around to face Teremun, falling off the table in the process. He quickly caught himself, fumbling to his feet and standing at attention. “I didn't hear you coming,” he greeted lamely, internally wincing. Teremun may have been a stone angel in a graveyard for all the amusement etched on his face. Though half a head shorter than Merrick, his presence seemed forever looming, shadowed and disapproving as ever. He still had the look of old Egypt in his dark skin and black hair, but he seemed more one of the carved Gods on a sandstone wall, judgmental and damning.

“How is she doing?” Teremun asked, folding his white wings and watching Merrick intently.

“Running late again.” Merrick glanced back at her, just to break eye contact a moment. “But working hard. She is passionate about it.”

“Feed that passion, and see that she gets her life together,” Teremun tsked. “What she is doing is important, and more important that she is destined for heaven, should something come of it.”

“Why?” Merrick folded his arms over his chest like a plate of armor, leaning his back against the metal table and half-listening to the scientists drone about something or other behind him. “They're researching energy.”

“Energy drawn from living things,” Teremun corrected. “And the most you need to know is that it's important. It could change the course of heaven and hell, and be the turning point in this war between us. It could change everything.” He stepped forward, and put his hand against Merrick's cheek. His palm was hot, like a quiet warning of hell fire, like the pulse of the sun, like a promise of a slap. Merrick didn't pull back. His fingertips quivered. “Do not let yourself be distracted, Merrick.” Teremun's voice was quiet, but his eyes were focused on the other angel's, pinning him in place until Merrick felt every feather stand on end. For what seemed an eternity, Teremun watched his face, and Merrick was sure that he could see every sin, every indiscretion, every thought about Fletcher and salvation and kissing the demon in the bunker.

Then, the heat was gone, and so was Teremun. Merrick swallowed, his cheek burning and his knees weak. Maybe the other angels were afraid of Eztli and the Garrison, or even afraid of demons and hellhounds, but Merrick knew few things more unnerving than his boss's stare. And he was left with no more answers than he had in the beginning, aside from one thing.

He was not going to tell him about Fletcher.

Merrick raked his fingers through his hair, and turned back around to watch Abby and Georgian again, finding a place to sit where he was less likely to go tumbling. They went about their work for hours, and the angel found himself starting to daydream. He propped his feet up on one of the metal tables, leaning back in a chair and letting his wings drape to either side. How was Fletcher combating this ceaseless boredom? More importantly, had he thought about how to be a better person, and earn his feathered wings? Merrick could hardly imagine having him in heaven with him—one kiss, and he was already enamored.

Again, he found himself falling for someone he shouldn't.

He laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He could remember being in Hawaii, stretched on the sand beside another young soldier as they took their Sunday free time not to pray in church, not to read letters from home and sleep in for once, but to swim naked in the warm waters, to lay under the sun and litter each other with salt-stained kisses on every inch of flesh they could find. It was like heaven, until the first plane roared overhead, and the first explosion woke them from heavy daydreams. Until the war finally came to American soil, and he spent days in the hospital, tending to the wounded and dying, washing blood from the floors day after day after day. Watching his lover be sent home with his leg amputated and his daydreaming eyes haunted and hollow.

He could remember the Battle of Iwo Jima, the month of fighting and the month of screaming soldiers writhing under his hands. The eyes of a Japanese soldier who looked up at him in his dying moments, mouthing words he couldn't understand, crying for love and salvation and a mother that prayed for his safe return. Merrick gave him morphine to ease his passing. He cried.

He looked over the prisoners they took from the network of tunnels and caves, and he could remember one young man named Kyou who spoke English badly, but better than Merrick spoke English. He called Merrick blue-eyes. When an infection spiked Kyou's temperature and he thrashed in fever-dreams for days, Merrick tended to him every hour. When the battle was finally won, and the graves were finally filled, Merrick told him that the war would be over soon. Kyou said that he loved him. Merrick hoped and feared that it was an error in translation. When he had to return to the fleet to sail on to Okinawa, and Kyou was to be taken away with the rest of the prisoners of war, Merrick held his hands and whispered that he loved him, too.

He never saw him again.

Merrick snapped out of daydreams when the conversation in the room stopped. He sat up, blinking the dampness from his eyes and swinging his feet off of the table at last. It wasn't like Abby to be quiet, or Georgian for that matter, but when he saw the reason why, even his breath caught.

“Dr. Toussaint. Thank you for coming to see us,” Georgian greeted, extending his hand.

At first sight, the angel knew that this stranger was not normal. Normal humans didn't not exude a sort of quiet promise of power, and normal humans did not carry a shadow with them like a second soul, and most of all, normal humans did not make direct eye contact with him.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said coolly, looking away from Merrick at last to make his proper introductions to the visible people in the room. “Please, you can call me Raen. I have a doctorate in philosophy—it's hardly worth mentioning. Thank you for allowing me to see your research.”

“How does one with a doctorate in philosophy come to take an interest in alternative energy resources?”

“We happen to have a shared interest not in renewable energy, but in the source.” Again, those gray eyes looked to Merrick, lingering just long enough to assure the angel that he knew he was there. “Have you determined yet what is causing the low levels of energy outputs in every human on earth?”

“Well, I'm fairly certain that it has something to do with the electrical impulses in our nerve endings,” Georgian said enthusiastically. “If we could find a way to tap into that—”

Raen's smile was more in his eyes than his mouth, and he sat down across from Merrick, tucking his hands into his oversized sleeves. “If we could find a way to tap into that,” he finished for Georgian, “the possibilities are limitless.”

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#original fiction #abomination series #fletcher and merrick #writing #look i told you Raen would be showing up #also this wasn't supposed to get sad?#i don't know how that happened #not my fault #angels and demons

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