#they asked the workers if they could take pics of the cards inside

[card-of-the-day]

Today's Card Is: Martell

#card of the day #contraband #submission #august 22 2023 #cool story with this #a follower went to a museum and saw this #they asked the workers if they could take pics of the cards inside #and they sent them over #it made my day to hear that they thought that much of this blog #thank you

[shivada-jade]

reply back

modern!au/idol!au

characters: aether, lumine mentions: venti, xiao, kazuha, barbara, azhdaha warning(s): swearing because lumine and aether are siblings

notes: i've been lACKING these idol au's so im gonna write more idol au's because i nEEED it

You were seven when you were introduced to the twins. Coming from a foreign land, you struggled with the language they spoke in, but they were patient with you and taught you their language and much more. The twins were multilingual and explained it was from their frequent traveling and relatives from different places.

You and the twins were close, but Lumine spent more time with you, making Aether whine a lot. He would always poke sticks at you and hide your legendary, full art Pokemon cards to catch both Lumine's and your attention. It does work, but Lumine's mad.

"Aether!" She'd scream with a lisp because of a missing tooth. "Stop doing that!"

Oh, but Aether is a sibling, meaning he'd play the 'innocent' card. "Stop doing what? What am I doing?"

In the end, you'd always have to call their parents when they fist fight at the sand pit. "Aether and Lumine's mom! They're fighting again!"

"Again?" The tall blonde sighed. "Thanks for telling me, hon."

After a good scolding, Aether and Lumine would be totally okay the next minute like nothing happened. You were used to their banter and rightfully took your Pokemon cards back. Lumine stuck a tongue out, blowing a raspberry at Aether when he turned his back, grabbing three large sticks.

"Fight me!" He cried with glee, giving one stick to his sister and one to you. "I will be the grand king of the sand pit!"

You vaguely remember the rest. Maybe you lost the 'sword duel,' or maybe you didn't, but what you did remember was this tall kid playing with his cat and eating the sand. Forget the kid, the only thing you remember is his cat's name called Azhdaha.

Your hands close your story book. You would never admit to your friends, but Lumine and Aether that you still read fantasy. The other kids in the neighbourhood would laugh saying what you were reading is a kid's story.

"So what if it's a kid's story? If you like it, read it," Lumine says aggressively while Aether opens the door for both of you.

"Lumi's right. They think they're all grown up, but they're kids too," he closes the door behind him, waving goodbye to your grandma rocking on the porch. "What's the story about anyway?"

You walk ahead, leading the two to a local mall. Every week, Aether, Lumine and yourself would spend Fridays and Saturdays together.

You and Lumine often joke how Aether doesn't do 'Saturdays are for the boys.' To which, Aether would scoff and reply with, "Boys who say that are stupid, not all but most. Saturdays are for spending time with people you care about. I don't care if they think I'm weak."

You step foot in the bus, tapping the card to pay for your admission. The twins, walk behind, doing the same and sitting next to you on the bus.

"It's called 'Songs of a Siren.' It's cool, you should check it out." You say, scooting a bit closer to the side so Lumine could have more pace to sit. The bus is packed. Teenagers littered inside, only a few adults were there including the bus driver. "Let's leave. Teenagers stink."

"...But you are one."

"Well-"

After the next stop, you push yourself through the crowd, trying to exit. Lumine pushes people, muttering a few 'excuse us' while dragging her brother. Your feet land on the concrete sidewalk and you finally breathe freely.

You see the twins finally get off the bus and tilt your head, "Let's go, the mall isn't gonna wait for us."

Entering the mall, the first thing you pass by is a clothes shop. You and Aether share a look, quietly doing rock-paper-scissors behind Lumine who's beaming to go inside.

Rock.

Aether chooses paper.

You droop to the floor because you're dramatic, knowing that once you go in the shop, you'll be the one carrying Lumine's purchases.

"Alright, Lumine," you say sighing. "Let's go shop."

You see Aether in your peripheral vision, pumping his fist laughing a quiet, "Yes!" when Lumine takes out her wallet.

"I know you did rock-paper-scissors." She counts the bills from her wallet, "But I'm buying for Aether which means even if you carry the things I buy, Aether's gonna have it much worse because he will be trying on everything I tell him to wear." She grins, settling with a black debit card.

After hearing this, Aether tries to walk in another shop to avoid dressing up for Lumine, but his sister quickly catches on and pulls him by the ear and walks in the clothes shop.

"Let's go!" She says to you, "These clothes won't shop themselves!"

...

"This one?"

"No, you look like grandpa in that outfit."

"Well what if I like looking like grandpa, huh? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Some people can pull off the sexy grandpa look. You're not 'some people.'" Lumine pulls out another outfit from the rack. "Try this one," she laughs, seeing Aether's horrified face and pushes him in the dressing area.

This is the ninth clothes shop you three go to, and you were starting to feel bad for Aether who had to wear every outfit Lumine wanted him to wear.

"Lumi," you say calmly, having trouble holding five shopping bags on each arm. She's on a shopping spree and you wonder how she gets all the money to buy these things. "That should be enough shopping for the day. I'm hungry."

The blonde lifts a hand. "Hold on a second," she smiles before banging on the changeroom door, "AETHER LET ME SEE THE FIT."

You can hear the loud sigh from the other side of the door as it slowly opens. He only peeks his head out, shyly mumbling, "This is embarrassing. I don't want to walk out like this."

Lumine rolls her eyes and pulls the door open, revealing Aether in a white dress shirt and dark pants.

Aether lifts an arm, inspecting the design. "It's a bit..." he pauses, thinking of a way to not offend his sister. "It's not my style." His eyes seek for your help to back him up, but you couldn't. The style on him looks so ethereal to him, and Lumine has the same idea.

His twin ran up to an aisle and picked out two accessories: a silk cloth and a floral pin. Lumine shushes Aether who tried to punch her.

"Shut up Aether, you'll look great." She pins the black rose onto the front of his shirt and ties the silk cloth around his neck. She steps a few steps back, making a rectangle shape to symbolize a picture frame and elbows you lightly. "He looks okay for once."

Okay is underwhelming, but to describe Aether better, he looks celestial. The warm studio lights hug every angle of Aether from head to toe. His golden eyes seem to brighten more and the outfit only accentuates his physical traits more.

From the corner of your eye you spot a tall-ish man who has been wandering past the same aisle but never picking anything up. He wears ordinary clothes- a T-shirt and jeans (rather stylishly), but you know from his incoming aura he's more than just an ordinary person.

You tap Lumine discreetly while still holding onto her shopping bags and tilt your head towards the man.

Aether, who keeps picking on the cloth around his neck goes frigid when the strange man walks up to him.

"Hey kid," he says cooly. He looks Aether up and down, lifting his shades to see clearer, and pulls out a small business card from his pocket. "You look like idol material. Ever thought about being a part of a boyband?"

Out of politeness, Aether takes the card and laughs nervously, "Not really" He looks at Lumine and you for help, but you two pretend to not know him when he turns to you.

The man shoves his hands in his pocket, blowing a bubblegum and popping it. His hair slightly tousles when he turns, waving a hand.

"If you ever do decide if you wanna be an idol, auditions are held next week at 10AM," he saunters off. "If they ask who recruited you, tell them a man by the name of Valentin did."

His lavender irises looks back once more before leaving the store, "The people from Teyvat Entertainment are introduced by my very hands. Don't disappoint me."

The automatic sliding doors open for him and he waves the store greeter a goodbye.

You see Aether's eyes scanning over he card Valentin gave. His lashes flutter quickly, signaling you and Lumine he was either shocked, or confused.

Lumine grabbed the paper, a habit she picked up due to being a twin and having to share everything with Aether who won't share. Her lips part, showing the card to you.

Teyvat Entertainment.

A company who created the world's famous DCKZ and the idol, Barbara. Teyvat Ent. has one of the youngest, top rookies of the year because of a group called TVT Dream. A company with many celebrities' and the business card is legit.

A store worker no older than your age meekly walks up to the three of you and asks, "Hey, uh. Are you ready to purchase your clothes?"

...

Aether shoves Lumine (don't worry she shoves him 10x harder) on the stairs while you watch from a safe distance.

You wave hello to their mom before waltzing into their home like you did many other times. You were their third child in their mom's eyes.

You slam the twins' room open and lay yourself on the bottom bunk of their bunkbed. "So do you wanna check Teyvat Entertainment?"

You fish out your phone from your pocket and hand signal for Aether and Lumine to come close to see. Your phone turns on, showing the lock screen of the twins in their embarrassing toddler moments then unlock it. Quietly laughing at the twins who have their faces beet red from the photograph.

"Why do you have that pic? DELETE IT."

"Did mom give that to you..."

You ignore them, opening up Google and typing in the Teyvat Ent. website and search their contacts. You ask Aether for the business card, comparing the two numbers side by side, and Valentin is indeed one of the scouts for the company.

You shut your phone off, hugging the two siblings together tightly. "Whether Aether decides he wants to be an idol or not, we'll still be the best of friends."

Lumine grins, squishing your cheeks, taking a closer look at you. "Well, duh. Are you scared we'll fall apart? No, if anything you should be scared we're never going to leave you alone even if you're 60 and married."

You pinch her cheeks and start to say something until you hear sniffles and coughing. You turn to Aether who was hiding his tears.

"Shut up, I'm not crying." He harshly wipes away the water falling from his eyes, "When I go famous, I'm going to give you my autograph so you can sell it and eventually get 20 cars and houses."

...

You were a teen when the dark-haired Valentin scouted Aether to be a trainee in Teyvat Ent.

You note that without Aether, their home is extremely quiet. It's odd not seeing Lumine scream at Aether for taking her hair clips. It's odd not seeing Lumine aggressively pull on the colourful flower hairclips on Aether's hair, just to get the clips back. It's so odd not seeing Aether is general.

Lumine scrolls through her phone, looking for furniture to add to her new apartment she shares with you. The only thing in the newly bought apartment is three mattresses, three plates, and three cups, just in case Aether visits. Though, Aether visiting is rare. His visits only happen during December for Christmas, but even then he had not visited. It's been two years since you and Lumine last saw him.

You stare at your last sent messages to the blonde boy.

▶ hEY. (threatening)

YO

▶ take care okay? lumine's worrying all the time for ur health bc she keeps watching yt vids on how idols over-do themselves from training

haha thanks for telling me

are you sure it's not you who's worrying 🧐🤧

the last thing lumi sent to me was "FUCK YOU"

▶ well the last thing you sent to her was "U BUTT"

▶ and she took that seriously

are you siding with her?

▶ yes

oh okay, frick you too seen three months ago

Your feet pad against the wooden tiles, grabbing a glass of water while scrolling through twitter. You lift the glass to your lips and almost choke from the water you drink.

You click the link on the phone with the title "Debuting boy band already claiming the hearts of many! Please welcome 4nemo!" Four boys stand in the picture, one being Aether.

You place your glass to the sink and run to Lumine, sitting next to her and who her your phone. She reads it over and visibly shakes. You swear she was about to cry until she takes the phone from your hand and starts throwing it, "AETHER THAT BITCH. HE DEBUTES AND SAYS NOTHING."

You're mortified and pull your friend away from your phone, "THAT'S A NEW PHONE, STOP." You push her away and run to your device, clicking on the link.

"One, two, three! Hello we are," Aether, the familiar blonde says.

His group members follow after him. "4nemo!" They say in chorus. One by one they start introducing themselves.

"Hi I'm Aether!"

"Kazuha," one says with a raise of a hand.

An energetic member steps up with a grin, "And I'm Barbisabeto!"

"He's Barbatos, forgive him." Teal undertones make it's way to the camera, "Hello, I'm Xiao.

The one with twin braids step up, mischievously grinning. "Please take care of us and support us during our journey through the music industry."

His teal eyes squint behind the camera, whispering to the member behind him. "Psst, Xiao. I can't read I'm blind."

Xiao rolls his eyes and steps up, slightly bowing, "Please support our debuting group, we will see you in our music videos."

But Lumine and you never paid attention to what they were saying. Both of you just started crying insults of endearment to Aether because he looks so... different. His face had mature and he's a real idol now.

Reality sinks in.

Now that Aether had a growing fanbase, it's going to be harder to contact him.

"Lumine, how are we going to talk to him now?"

Lumine ponders a bit, resting her chin on her hand before smirking. "Let's create an Aether hate page."

"Yes, let's do it."

After a quick recording of Lumine and yourself, you posted the video online, and soon enough, it goes viral.

Lumine laughs, replaying the video.

"This one's for the boys with the booming system," You say monotonously in front of the camera like what you said was a speech instead of a song. "Top down, AC with the cooler system."

Lumine comes on screen, flipping her middle finger at the camera. "When he come up in the club, he be blazin' up. This one is actually not for the boys with the booming system. This is for the BITCH, AETHER WITH THE BLONDE BRAID. Look at you with your ugly ass smile," She speaks in one breath and it amazes you. "Make sure you get millions of hits or it's all for nothing. Oh Aether's an ass."

The screen shows your hand scooping the phone up and waving good bye with Lumine still dissing Aether.

You nudge Lumine, showing a comment written at the bottom of the video, covering a laugh.

"who's aether?"

"huh??! aether?"

"lOL Why Does The Person On The Left Look Like Aether?"

"OH 4NEMO DABUTE. SHUTUP YOU ANTI. THEY'RE GORGEOUS. YOU'RE THE ONE UFLY" ➡ "ahisfdh you obvi didnt watch the whole video. she said "make sure get millions of hits"

Lumine grins, commenting at the people calling her ugly and Aether way better looking. "Lol, IKR. the one on the left is trying too hard to look like Aether. it's like shes tryna be a twin or smthn"

Though, because of your viral "hate" video, 4nemo's popularity sky rockets because of the unknown 'Aether' of the group.

...

Aether watches the video on the news channel, because that's how popular the video got. He looks at his manager, "Can I send a hate video back?"

"Aether, no."

But the winds are troublesome as the ocean, because a boy with teal tips on his hair snatched the managers phone, running and giving it to Aether. "AETHER. DO IT RIGHT NOW."

...

It was a shock to you seeing people follow your twitter account.

"LUMI, [NAME], IM SRRY I LOST MY PHONE AND DIDNT WANNA TELL ANY1 OR THEYLL GROUND ME," said the tweet, tagging you in comments.

Lumine doesn't have twitter, so when she looks over your shoulder seeing the tweet with her name on, she grabs the phone and locks herself in the bathroom, "R U FR AETHER?U DIDNT REPLY TO MY HAPPY BDAY. WE SHARE A BDAY DUMBASS"

She calmly unlocks the door, giving your phone back casually while you whine, "Lumine! This is twitter! They're gonna cancel me!"

"I'll cancel them back."

Ding! You receive a post with you name under the comments again.

hello, i have to apologize for our member stealing the manager's phone to tweet that. i swear that kid's the most responsible, but he's been triggered. #kazuha

You quickly type back, under the hashtag 'kazuha.'

"@/4nemo sorry uh thats one of ur members twin & shes mad that aether never gave her a bday present when she gave 1 to him #kazuha"

notes: psst here's where i got aether's outfit inspo when they were outfit changing at the mall

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #4nemo #aether x reader #lumine #aether #lumine x reader #genshin fanfic

[tuffduff]

Unprofessional (Axl Rose x Reader)

Pairing: fluffy modern!Axl Rose x younger!Female reader

Words: 2,139

Summary: You’re Axl’s younger personal assistant and doing his Christmas shopping for him. He appreciates all your hard work and gives you a little extra to buy something nice for yourself...for a good reason.

Taglist: @ubernoxa @the--blackdahlia @reigns420 @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @rumoured-whispers

Explaining your job title over the years was perhaps the most difficult part of your job, not the work itself. Actually, the work was pretty fun. Spontaneous, never the same duties, and highly rewarding. But it wasn’t for everyone.

“Good morning,” you called out as you entered the large Malibu mansion that you knew every inch of.

“Y/N, sugar, that you? Hey, c’mere; you’re just in time.” You heard Axl’s voice calling you from one of the living rooms, the one with the view and Axl’s favorite grand piano.

He paused playing and smiled at you a little before he stood and silently handed you his credit card. You smiled knowingly and extended your other hand, to which he laughed.

“You already know.”

“Know that you hate Christmas shopping? Yes.”

“And that I very well can’t exactly walk around the mall casually.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” You smiled. Axl smiled back at you and you felt the familiar rush of warmth fill your heart.

“You’re damn good at it.”

Technically, you were what some would call a personal assistant. But, as the world knows, that extends itself to doing more than just boring paperwork and phone calls when you work for a celebrity. Or the most famous rock star in the world.

You had been working for Axl for years. At first, he was very combustible. Terrible mood swings and hard to please—he couldn’t keep an assistant. You never lost your patience though, and he realized he had someone that could trust in you. He told you as much. Now, he treated you like gold. You didn’t call him sir anymore, and he mainly called you sugar. Paid you more than necessary, sent flowers, sent flowers to your family, even bought you a house. In return you did everything for him; you were always by his side, day and night. Sometimes your family and friends didn’t know how you did it; Axl was your life.

Maybe you didn’t mind because you were in love with him.

Despite the age gap, you couldn’t deny the adoration he made you feel. The way he listened to you, how he remembered tiny details, how he never let anyone talk down on you. How he only really opened up to you. Your job wasn’t to fall in love with him, but how could you not? And it made work never really feel like work.

“Do you like the tree this year?” You asked him as you carefully secured his card in your wallet along with his shopping list. For some reason, he looked down.

“I love it, they did a beautiful job. But...” you frowned; Axl rarely ever complained of anything you took care of. He stepped closer to you, only inches from your face as he looked you in the eye. “I kinda miss it. Decorating it myself. You know?”

“Yeah. I can understand that.” You replied softly, before you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was something you would want to do.” Axl nodded a little.

“Do you have a tree at yours?” You swallowed a little.

“No. To be honest, I’m not there enough.” You both knew you stayed more at Axl’s than yours.

“Did you pick the red and gold decorations?” He asked you, turning and glancing at the sweeping tree behind the two of you.

“Yeah. Thought it matched the interior...and you.” You couldn’t help but smile and reach out to sweep his red hair off his shoulder, to which he turned back to you with a smile of his own.

“If it were really up to you though, is that what you would have picked?” You paused at his question, frowning a little.

“...I think the best decorations are the ones that are so old you have to be careful with them, or else they’ll break. Passed down for generations, all vintage and mismatched, you know?” Axl smiled at you and was silent for a long time.

“Me too.” He said before he sat down again. “Well, good luck.” You grinned at him.

“I won’t need it; you won’t even have time to miss me.” You joked, turning on your heel to leave.

“I doubt that.” You nearly stopped at Axl’s words, before he called your name. “Oh, Y/N, I almost forgot.” He pulled out a separate envelope and extended it to you. Your name was on it and he only smiled at you. “See you soon.”

Outside in the privacy of your car, you opened the envelope. There was a note with Axl’s handwriting.

Get yourself something pretty to wear out. It still won’t be as pretty as you.

You blinked at the note several times and focused in on the bottom.

Yours, Axl xxx

Even knowing how much money Axl had and how much he spent, seeing the cash behind the note still made the envelope burn in your fingertips.

Five minutes later, you were still sitting there in your car, uncertain. Axl had given you Christmas presents, of course, but nothing like this. A house, a car, many other material things, but not a note you couldn’t help but create fantasies about.

What did it even mean? Was this just another gift? Or did it mean more, did it mean...

You did your best to stop the thoughts before they started. After all, you accompanied Axl to many events and it never really meant anything. He was just being kind and generous, as always. Besides, he probably didn’t even see you in that light.

You took care of Axl’s list easy, gifts for his inner circle, workers, the few suits he cared about. The hard part now was the array of dresses you had at your disposal before you. Beautiful cocktail dresses, sparkling gowns, silky slips.

Normally, when shopping for dresses for events with Axl, you always made sure to look professional first and foremost. Nothing too low-cut and showy, nothing with thigh slits, nothing too extravagant. But now?

Yes, now. What were you going to do with now?

Coincidentally, your phone buzzed and you saw it was a text from Axl himself.

How’s it goin?

Your list is taken care of! Just trying to pick a dress now :)

You wanted to unsend your text as soon as it was gone. Had he even meant for you to buy a dress? Your heart pounded when you felt another vibration in your hand.

I’d ask for pics, but I like surprises

You nearly dropped your phone. You felt your cheeks blushing. You were helpless to stop yourself from imagining taking suggestive, racy pics for him in these dresses, sending all of them to him.

And you almost did. But your job was important and if you were misreading signs, you didn’t want to lose it all.

Finally, you settled on a gorgeous red velvet mini dress. It had long sleeves to make up for short length, a deep v-cut neckline that somehow still looked sophisticated, and a subtle sash tie around your waist that complimented your figure.

Despite how much you loved it, you couldn’t help but wonder if Axl would like it the whole way back to him.

When you arrived, the sun was setting behind the mansion, now lit in beautiful twinkling Christmas lights. You hurried inside with the various bags of gifts, as well as the dress in a garment bag slung over your shoulder.

“Y/N?” Axl called as you walked into the house. You smiled, but felt yourself turn uncharacteristically shy at the very sight of him.

“I’m back,” you said lamely, frowning a little at yourself. Axl smiled at you and you couldn’t hold his gaze.

“You were wrong, you know.”

“Sorry, what?” You choked out, feeling your heart stop.

“I did miss you.” Your heart pounded.

“Uh,” you laughed nervously, sending him another wobbly smile. “Do you want to see what I bought?” You said, turning your attention to the bags you were setting down.

“I do. Why don’t you go and put it on?” You stopped, swallowing at the sudden dryness in your throat.

“Oh, uh...I mean...” you blinked a few times. “Oh—that reminds me.” You said, quickly opening your purse and pulling out the envelope to extend back to him. “I didn’t spend all the money.”

Axl clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to go and buy another.”

“What?” He chuckled at your face. The room felt hot as he stepped closer to you, and the sound his shoes made against the granite floors suddenly made you focus on his attire. “O-oh, are you going out? I’m not making you late, am I?” Axl raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yes. We are.” You frowned at him and he sighed lightly, flicking the envelope you still had slightly extended out towards him. “Was my note not clear enough?”

Suddenly, you didn’t feel so crazy anymore, but that didn’t mean your heart wasn’t racing.

“I think...for my sake...and the safety of my job,” you smiled a little and Axl chuckled. “I think you need to be very clear with me.” He reached forward and took your free hand in his.

“Y/N, all these years there’s only been one person by my side. Through the ups and downs, not just for the spotlight. You’ve taken good care of me and never left me ever worrying about anything. And I don’t just mean the dry cleaning and appearances. When I realized you...actually just wanted to be around me because you liked the person I am, and not just the money...” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. “And I don’t want you not by my side. I don’t want anyone else. And I never wanted to make you think I was going to use you, but honey, did you really not notice?”

“What, the gifts? The fact that I live in Malibu now? I just thought it was your nature.”

“Yes, I take care of the ones I love. That’s why I make sure you never have to want or need anything. But haven’t you noticed I never have women over? I’m never off to dates, women aren’t hanging off my shoulders anymore, people call me a lonely hermit?” You laughed a little. “It’s because there’s you. There’s a reason you’ve got your own room here; I don’t like it when you go home.”

Axl raised his hand and brushed your hair away from your face, leaving his hand against your cheek.

“I don’t either.” You murmured. “Axl…I’ve cared about you for years. But I couldn’t exactly tell you that. It would be unprofessional, but…”

“You thought about it.” He guessed. “About us.”

“Of course I did. I love doing things for you, but…I mean, of course I would love more.”

“I thought maybe the note would make everything clear.” Axl said, before he took the garment bag from your shoulder and unzipped it halfway. Red velvet met his gaze and he raised his eyes to you, a new suggestive look in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow at you. “...it looks like you got the hint, darlin’.”

“I didn’t want to assume.” You murmured, trying to fight a smile. “Girl like me can’t get her hopes up; it’s Christmas.” He grinned at you.

“That’s when miracles happen. Speaking of Christmas...” Axl said, turning and grabbing a small wrapped box from the top of the piano. “I did a little shopping of my own while you were out.” You put your hands on your hips.

“I thought that’s what I was for, and I thought we opened presents Christmas Day?”

“This one has more sentimental value.” He pressed it into your hands with a small smile. You shook your head at him as you pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid, surprised to see a small glass ornament. It was two penguins hugging wearing Santa hats, with Axl and Y/N engraved.

“Ax…” you murmured, feeling overwhelmed. Axl reached out and pulled you against him, hugging you tight and kissing the side of your head. “I…I love it.”

“Think it’s too late to start some traditions?” He asked you in your ear before gesturing to the tree before following behind you as you picked a prominent branch to put the ornament on display. “Next year, we’ll go and pick out our own tree and put up our own ornaments. But for now, why don’t you finally go and put on that dress so I can see you in it and we can get somethin’ to eat. We’re gonna need energy to wrap all of these.” He said, looking at the bags surrounding you. You smiled excitedly at him.

“You’re gonna love it.”

“Oh, I know I will. I just hope I don’t have to wait until Christmas Day to open it.”

#axl rose imagine #axl rose x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock imagine #modern!axl

[kim-ruzek]

Girl Crush

Summary: This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

Or; at the end of 3x23, Sylvie doesn't go home with Roman-- but instead with Kim. And gets the fucking she deserves.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. This is just my excuse to give Sylvie the orgasm she deserves and the one she clearly did not get with Ratman. And so there's also Roman bashing bc Roman is trash.

Word Count: 4.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: For @gilbxrt-blythe bc Abby started™ something in my mind on Sunday, thus leading me to writing this all yesterday bc,,, our girls deserve so much better than Sean Roman and this fandom needs more wlw content. Let's save our darling girls!!

Someone’s hooking up tonight.

Chili’s words go around in Sylvie’s head all night. Largely, she ignores them—or rather, tries to—just focusing on the beer she’s sipping faster than usual and the joyous atmosphere in the bar but there’s those moments it creeps into her thoughts.

Her PIC is right about one thing, the thing she said about volcanoes. The firehouse has been so tense of late and she can tell that a weight has been lifted off them, and Sylvie thinks that’s quite like a volcano. But she—perhaps, stubbornly—refuses to admit Chili might be right about the hooking up part.

If anyone was to know Sylvie’s thoughts, know that she’s trying, more vehemently that she should, to deny that, they question why. To which Sylvie would just claim that it’s because she hates gossiping about her co-workers, people who are her friends are family, and that she doesn’t like speculating on their sex lives.

Sylvie even tried to insist this to herself, not that it works. How can it when she can feel her toes curl slightly at the thought of just... Throwing everything to the wind and just enjoying some pure, unadulterated primal ecstasy. That she finds herself subconsciously looking around the bar, as if she’s trying to find a suitable candidate.

She has always felt the weight of her friends’ turmoil so heavily. Empathetic to the core, her father said, when he grinned at her becoming a paramedic, telling her it’s what she was born to do. She likes it, she does. She likes caring about those important to her, to care about anyone who’s a decent human—and even those who aren’t—but it gets tiring, feeling the weight of their unhappiness on her shoulders.

It’s not even like she was directly wrapped up in the drama going around in the house, but it was so intense—a volcano getting ready to burst. And something tells her that she won’t be able to shake it off with just getting drunk amongst her friends.

“Hey, Brett,” Sylvie looks to her left, seeing Sean Roman slip into the seat beside her. The paramedic smiles at him, ever polite, turning so she’s more face on to him. He was close to her before she shifted, and she thought that would be annoying, if he wanted to converse.

Only, Sylvie quickly gets that he doesn’t have talking on mind.

The patrol officer is quick to close the space between them again, shifting himself and resting a hand on the back edge of her seat. She could get away if she wanted, but it gives off a certain trapped vibe, a vibe that shows exactly the kind of intentions Roman has.

There’s a twist of uncomfortableness in her stomach. Roman is sort of attractive, she guesses, although she doesn’t know if she’d fully trust her taste in men yet; there being too many wrongly stacked choices compared to the right. But even if he was the hottest specimen she had ever seen, there’s something off putting about his approach, leaving her with the impression he doesn’t want her to move away from him.

But there’s that volcano inside her, wanting to explode, and the alcohol is already coursing through her veins, so despite the sober parts of her brain metaphorically screwing up its nose at the officer, Sylvie doesn’t attempt to move again, instead leaning on her arm, interested in whatever he has to say.

“I’ve got a few more interesting stories like that, if you want to hear more?” Roman smiles hungrily at her, his eyes making her feel like a piece of meat. He had just finished telling her an amusing story from patrol and she gets the impression that’s his hook, and that now he’s trying to reel her in.

“The bar’s a bit loud, though. So we should go back to mine,” There it is, the beginning of the reel. He’s looking hopeful at her, and there’s an attempt to look appealing, sexy. It doesn’t work, but Sylvie finds herself shrugging, thinking that she could do a lot worse that Sean Roman.

“Hey, Sylvie. Roman.” Before she can agree, Kim appears, seemingly out of nowhere.

The brunette is on the other side of her, her arm lightly touching her as she greets them. In a way, Kim is affectively penning Sylvie in like her partner did, but it doesn’t make her stomach twist in that same uncomfortable way. There’s some meaning to that, she knows, but she doesn’t bother to reflect on what.

“Hey, Burgess.” Roman seems irked. He’s looking at her rather rudely, and Sylvie doesn’t like that. She cares about her friends and Kim is one of her first Chicago friends who doesn’t work with her. So she grins at her a little wider then she already would, wrapping her arms around the other officer.

“Hey, Kim!” If Roman picks up on the pointedness in Sylvie’s tone, he doesn’t let on.

“Hi,” Kim smiles at her again, repeating a greeting before continuing and Sylvie must be a little more tipsy than she thought because her mind is immediately drawn to how pretty Kim looks when she smiles. “Chili had to leave early and asked me if I could drive you home instead. She said sorry, but there was a cute guy who she needed to know a bit better,”

Sylvie knows instantly that Kim is lying. Chili asked no such thing, considering she wanted to get absolutely wasted tonight and had no intention of driving herself home, let alone Sylvie. This lie is an anchor, a get out of jail card, a bailout. For who, she doesn’t know—doesn’t think that she’s too drunk to need it, but she takes it anyway.

“Oh, she promised she wouldn’t!” Sylvie goes along with the lie Kim has spun. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you,”

“Eh. It’s no problem.” Kim shrugs her off with a wave of a hand.

“I was actually about to leave myself. I can take Brett, you can just relax. That way I can continue telling her some patrol stories,” Roman inserts himself back in the conversation but Kim has no patience for him.

“We’re partners, I can tell her the stories. C’mon, Sylvie, let’s go.” Kim gently encourages Sylvie up. There’s a disappointment at not being able to expend all this tension away, but girl code is more important, and girl code is telling her to go with Kim.

“We have to walk around the block—I don’t actually have my car, so we’ll have to call a taxi.” Kim tells her when they leave Molly’s, arms linked. Neither of them are anything more than tipsy, but Sylvie finds herself giggling at her words.

“Then why did you drag me out? Was a guy bothering you?” She asks.

“Oh, trust me, I did that for you. You’d regret that so much tomorrow. The guy’s my partner and all, but he... I was on patrol with his ex. Going there—that wouldn’t give you any sort of satisfaction.” Kim explains, and Sylvie widens her eyes, giggling again.

“Really?” The irony of Sylvie spending the evening denying that she cares about gossip saying this, leaning in with intrigue, is not lost on her.

“Jenn didn’t say anything outright but... I asked why she got engaged so quickly and she expressed that he—her fiancé—is very talented with his tongue, if you get what I mean. I inferred the rest. A man who won’t eat out his girl is not a man worth your time.” Kim says very manner of fact, and Sylvie laughs at it, the brunette joining in shortly after.

“It’s the truth!” Kim insists through her laughter. They’ve walked around the corner, now, Kim quickly dialling for a taxi through her laughs.

“My ex fiancé never did.” Sylvie confesses when their laughter died down. Kim lifts an eyebrow.

“Never?”

“Never. He said it was disgusting. Didn’t stop him wanting me to suck him, though.” Sylvie can’t help the bitter edge to her words, thinking about Harrison and thinking about how she could waste her time on him. Kim, evidently, thinks the same.

“Life is too short for those kinds of men.” Kim says. Her words are assured, confident, just a statement and Sylvie just hums in response, thinking that Kim probably never wasted years like she did.

“Hey, Sylvie. I don’t mean that like... You deserve so much better.” Kim picks up on her sudden drop of mood. “I don’t know why we lower ourselves for arses like that, but you deserve so much better. Better than people like Harrison and Roman.”

“So do you—if your exes never..?” Sylvie quickly adds on and Kim lets out a snort.

“Oh yeah. I’ve dated my fair share of arseholes.” She nods. “I don’t know why they’re like this. You’re so pretty, I don’t know how anyone could want to fuck you and not completely worship you.”

This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

It deepens Sylvie’s blush.

The air between them immediately shifts, and it feels almost so natural, Sylvie finds herself questioning whether the air always felt this thick and charged. The air is heavy, and there’s this certain kind of electricity between them; an electric energy of sorts that reminds her of when she was eighteen and her friends and her caught a ride into the nearest big town and snuck into the club—and of Sylvie waiting outside for her friends after and sharing her first—and only—kiss with a girl.

“That’s cos we’re women, though? We know what we want.” Sylvie tries to push all those thoughts aside.

Tries to ignore what she feels building in the air—because surely, it’s just in her mind? Just because she was thinking about throwing caution to the wind and having a night of passionate, explosive sex—and tries to not focus on how pretty Kim looks, how she looks like she’s the best and worst decision she could ever make wrapped up in one.

On how Kim is looking at her with such intense eyes, almost hungry eyes, eyes that says she wants to be one of those men.

“That’s not just why. I wouldn’t just eat you out until you come screaming because I’m a woman, I’d do it because I want to make you come undone at my doing—like you deserve.” Kim’s words sends pulsating throbs through her body, and she can feel herself getting turned on, her body feeling like Kim has just found the secret code to her with just her words. Sylvie stares at Kim, with shock.

“You... I... What?” Sylvie splutters, unsure of what exactly Kim is saying.

“I’m just saying. You’re hot, Brett. I can see why Roman tried.” There’s a pause. “I’m not trying to ruin our friendship. Tell me if I’m wrong, that I’m not picking up on some things and I’ll shut up and just get you home. But if I’m right, I’ll fuck you right.”

“I...” Sylvie is facing Kim dead on, now, the space between them feeling like too much, electric and heavy. It’s dark, the only light being the street lamp. But it catches the side of Kim’s face, lighting it up in such a pretty way and it stirs something deep and primal inside her.

The dark, positively hungry eyes Kim is looking at her with doesn’t help, either. It’s not like earlier, with Roman, it doesn’t make her feel like a piece of meat. It makes her feel like she’s the world’s most precious delicacy and that Kim would give her left arm just to get a taste.

“You’re right.” The words are barely out of her mouth when Kim is closing the space between them. One of her arms slips around the blonde’s waist, pulling her flush to her, the other gently resting on the bend of Sylvie’s neck as she kisses her.

Kim’s lips are soft, her touch gentle. The kiss starts off slow, although Sylvie wouldn’t have thought it with the way her body immediately responds, aching and her heart beating. But then Kim deepens the kiss, encouraging her mouth to open wider, slipping in her tongue. Sylvie responds eagerly, her arms wrapping around Kim, practically grabbing hold of her so she can return the kiss more fiercely.

If this was a preview into the abilities of Kim’s tongue, Sylvie doesn’t think that she’ll have to work her long before—to use Kim’s words—Sylvie’s coming undone at her doing.

When the taxi arrives, honking it’s horn on the two, busy kissing each other like they’re the only people in the world, the alcohol running through their veins and their and respective tiring days edging them on, making them so filled with want for this, they pull apart, out of breath, chest heaving.

They share smiles, little light-hearted giggles as they pull apart, climbing into the taxi. Kim opens the door, grabbing at Sylvie’s hand as she does so before moving swiftly out the way so she can climb in first.

They don’t make out in the taxi. They’re not even jammed up too close together, their bodies just turned towards each other. They are close enough for them to still have their hands interlocked, although it’s more like their arms at places and for their feet to lightly tap at the other’s, playing a footsy kind of game but they’re friends, they shared a taxi before, they’ve even had this ease of physical contact before.

Sylvie would almost wouldn’t be able to tell that the line between friends and lovers had been blurred for tonight, if it wasn’t for the electric energy between them, from how Sylvie’s just waiting until they can get back to hers, and how whenever Kim moves her fingers up and down her arm, gently running against her skin, it feels like little shocks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to yours,” Kim says as Sylvie leads her up the stairs. They’re deviating between holding hands and not, joking around as they make their way. Sometimes Kim’s spinning ahead of her, their hands dropping from their grip, and sometimes Sylvie is.

“We have only known each other a year and we have busy jobs.” Sylvie points out. Kim sticks out her tongue playfully and Sylvie has to stop herself from capturing it, and kissing Kim again. “This is me.”

Sylvie goes in first, opening her front door and placing her keys in her pot. Kim follows, and Sylvie watches as the brunette kicks off her shoes immediately, shrugging off her coat. For someone who’s never been here before, Kim fills the air with a confidence and it only fuels Sylvie’s need, her own confidence as the volcano erupts.

With a swift kick, Sylvie shuts her door and then her hands are on Kim, pulling her close. She grabs her hand, stopping her from moving further away from her, pulling her to her and capturing her lips in a kiss.

“Hm,” Kim moans against her, kissing her with a casual, yet urgent force. The melodic hum is tinted in amusement, and she pulls away briefly, to Sylvie’s disappointment. “So, we’re going straight to this? Aren’t even going to ask if I want a beer?”

Her words are said in an amused tone, but Sylvie still finds herself blushing, cursing herself slightly.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Do you—” She’s interrupted by Kim kissing her.

“You’re so easy to tease. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to drink. Eat, maybe.” Sylvie goes to panic again but then she sees the glint sparkling away in her eye and she blushes, getting the play on words.

“Hm, well there’s only one thing on the menu if you’re,” she pauses, “Hungry,”

Sylvie could swear that Kim licks her lips but then the brunette is kissing her again and all thoughts go out of her head, the only thing on her mind being the taste of Kim and getting her to her bedroom as soon as she can.

Neither of them are determined to disconnect from one another for long, not even in the interest in getting to her bed unscathed from injuries. Kim hits into the sofa and Sylvie nearly trips over something she left on the floor, but the two stay touching, kissing each other hungrily and needily.

Sylvie would love to say that she savoured the moment Kim took off her top, but any clothes removed is done hastily, urgently, the clothes feeling too much, too intrusive. All Sylvie can do is give Kim a quick, appreciative look over after she tosses off her top.

Although, she thinks, that could do more with that Kim then helps her get her top off, and rewards her with her lips on her neck immediately after.

“There,” Sylvie manages to gasp out, pointing at which door is her bedroom’s, as Kim pushes her up against her wall, attacking her neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh. She’s going to have a mark there tomorrow, but tonight, tonight she doesn’t care, just tilting her head aside for her to have more access, her hands just grabbing at Kim as she does so.

Despite the urgency to get this far into her apartment, Kim has apparently decided they don’t need to finish the stretch right now, focusing on kissing along her collarbone, back up along her neck and jawline, stealing kisses from her lips before heading back down. She doesn’t go too far down with her kisses, but it’s enough to send Sylvie’s mind haywire, especially when she brushes along with her teeth.

All Sylvie can do is grab at Kim’s hair, the other hand resting on her waist, running up and down her back with her nails and moan at the kisses, grasping at her. One of Sylvie’s legs loops around Kim’s in a kind of way, pulling her lower body closer to her own, in the perfect place for Sylvie to grind against, needing to alleviate some tension.

It’s only when Kim’s hand snakes away from it’s current position and runs along the waistband of her jeans, deftly undoing her button and slipping inside does Sylvie gasp, pushing at Kim slightly. Kim’s hand is still cold from the cool Chicago night air, and Sylvie can feel the cold as Kim runs her hand against the cotton of her panties, lightly brushing over her throbbing clit.

“Bedroom. Kim, bedroom,” Sylvie gasps.

“Hm. Impatient, are we?” Kim grins at her, and Sylvie can’t help comparing it to a wolf looking at it’s prey. The brunette is so sweet and kind, Sylvie never would’ve guessed that she was like this—so confident and devious—in the bedroom. Or, rather, the hallway. But Sylvie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kim steps away from Sylvie then, and she immediately misses the warmth of her body, and her hand's presence from where it was so close to where she wants—no, needs—her. She’s going into Sylvie’s bedroom, beckoning the blonde to follow.

Sylvie is starting to rather feel like putty in Kim’s hands, and she’s never been a passive participant in her sex life—well, except when she lets men (Harrison) rule how she should be—and she’s not about to start.

She follows Kim on through, and she already has an advantage knowing the layout of her bedroom. Sylvie’s hands are on Kim again, and she’s leading, practically pushing, Kim to her bed, the brunette having no choice but to lie down on it, Sylvie immediately straddling her.

“Not a very good cop, are you?” Sylvie teases her, and when Kim goes to protest, she grinds down slightly, knowing exactly where it’ll cause friction. It has the desired effect, Kim moaning, her eyes fluttering shut slightly. Her hands are resting of Sylvie’s hips, and they go up then, stroking at the soft skin of her stomach.

“Bra, off. Now,” Kim says, running a hand along the edge of the bra. Sylvie grins wickedly at her, wondering why Kim ever thought she still had the upper hand, to doll out an order.

“Yes. That’s a good idea.” Sylvie shifts down Kim slightly, resting more weight on her own kneeled legs, allowing for Kim to sit up. The brunette clearly thinks it’s so she can help Sylvie with the bra, but Sylvie catches her hands, stopping her, and instead undoes Kim’s bra.

Sylvie’s never been intimate with a woman like this. There’s been those dreams—day dreams and actual dreams—that she spent a while trying to ignore, and thinking she’ll never act upon. But she’s never, physically, been with one and whereas her confidence has gotten her this far, she falters as Kim takes off her bra.

There’s that hesitation, that hesitation that she wants Kim—needs Kim—that this is exactly how she wants to explode tonight, but there’s that knowledge that she’s inexperienced in this, hitting her as she’s confronted with Kim’s naked chest.

“Is this too much?” Kim picks up straight away that Sylvie is having a moment, her eyebrows furrowing, turning concerned. “We can stop or just make out. Whatever you want—consent still applies with two women, y’know, and I won’t mind.”

Sylvie looks at her, Kim’s voice so gentle and caring, her big, brown eyes only filled with concerned, and something inside her throbs and Sylvie’s hesitation wears off as she realises that there’s nothing to be intimidated by, and Kim won’t mind if she has to guide her a little.

“Nah, I’m just taking your beauty in.” Sylvie jokes, before adding more seriously, “This is exactly what I want, Kim.”

“Good.” Kim smiles. “Because I’m feeling that we should even things here.”

Sylvie should’ve know that Kim would take off her bra as soon as she could, the brunette raking her eyes greedily over her body. She grabs at Sylvie’s thighs, positioning her in a way that she can sit on her and they can kiss with ease.

Kim doesn’t spend long kissing her lips before she’s travelling again, her fingers gently tracing patterns on her back as she kisses down her neck, collarbone, going between kisses and nips. Sylvie tries to adjust herself so that she can kiss the dip of Kim’s shoulder as she does so, but Kim tries her hardest to stop any attempts, not wanting to be restricted in her own explorations.

When Kim’s mouth gets to her chest, she pauses. Sylvie has barely any time to wonder what will happen next when Kim’s hand is palming one breast, making her gasp in surprise. The brunette lifts her mouth from her body, instead taking advantage of her agape mouth, kissing her deep. And then she’s moving them, laying Sylvie down, shifting who’s winning this lustful game of cat and mouse they’re playing.

Kim doesn’t straddle her like Sylvie did earlier, just making them vertical, Kim between her legs. She’s squeezing her breast again, and then her mouth is around the other’s nipple, rolling her tongue around it, and Sylvie lets out a loud moan she’d almost be embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so good. Kim works her like this for god knows how long before switching.

And then Kim is once again pulling away and Sylvie pouts, to Kim’s amusement.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kim coos at her. “I’m just taking off your jeans so I can fuck you with my mouth.”

Sylvie never knew hearing Kim swear could sound so hot.

“Your jeans too. I was you as naked as I am,” She doesn’t know how she still has brain power to compose thoughts, focused so much on the needy ache in her body.

Kim steps off the bed so that she can shimmy off her jeans. Her panties match the bra she was wearing and Sylvie couldn’t even describe how much that made her desire spike. She wonders if Kim was working today and if she changed before going to Molly’s—curious to know if Kim wore such lacy stuff to work.

Surely not? Sylvie sure as hell doesn’t, let alone wearing a matching set.

“Like what you see?” Kim flirts before climbing back onto the bed, immediately getting to work on helping Sylvie get off her own jeans. There’s a moment when they’re off that Sylvie gets momentarily self conscious of her near-naked body, but then Kim’s running a finger along her panties again, pressing down on her clit through the fabric.

The sound it elicits from her is a mix between a gasp, moan and whine.

“Kim,” Sylvie practically begs as she releases the pressure, resuming to gentle barely there strokes as she returns her mouth to her breasts, collarbone and neck. Kim seems to get the message because then she’s—with skill that makes Sylvie wonder just how many times Kim has done this—hooking her fingers around her panties and taking them off.

She doesn’t hesitate to resume her actions, now without the fabric in the way. Kim dips a finger inside her, her thumb brushing against her clit with differentiating levels of pressure and Sylvie can’t help but shut her eyes and moan at the sensation, Kim working her with her talented fingers.

“You’re so wet,” Kim whispers into her ear, nibbling against her jawline before adding another finger. She laughs hotly against her as Sylvie tightens, squeezing Kim’s fingers. She’s just about used to the feeling, and the motions, a pressure inside her building, but then Kim’s pulling them out and she’s whining.

And then Kim’s pulling away from her, and Sylvie just about opens her eyes, lifting up her head, in time to see down her body, looking devilishly. And then Kim’s licking her and it’s everything she’s wanted, needed, and her head is falling back down. Kim works her with her mouth, and all Sylvie can think is about how indeed, Kim is mightily skilled with her tongue.

The tension in Sylvie builds quickly, fast approaching her orgasm, Kim lapping at her and using her fingers to add that extra sensation, rubbing and pinching, alternating between making she’s in place and fondling her breasts and Sylvie’s gripping at her covers, gasping and whining as she writhes, overwhelmed at the sensations.

All thoughts have left her mind, and all Sylvie can focus on is the quick approaching climax, not caring about how lost in it she must be—not caring how loud she’s being, how unfiltered and uncontrolled she is, just focused on how good Kim is making her feel.

And then she reaches her climax, Kim is taking her over and she gets her wish—it’s everything Sylvie has needed, and she screams, full of ecstasy, her body overcome with sensation, toes curling as she comes around Kim’s tongue, the brunette continuing to lap at her, guiding her through her orgasm.

“That...” Sylvie pants as soon as she can. “That—exactly what I needed.”

It’s not perfect grammar, but she thinks Kim gets it, if how she smiles and moves so she’s cuddling against Sylvie, is any indication.

#kim burgess #sylvie brett #chicago pd #Chicago fire #kim burgess x sylvie brett #Chicago pd fanfiction #Chicago fire fanfiction #ree writes #ree's.writing #ree.smut #ree.wlw

[torilovestowrite]

Dabi x Reader; Try Again pt. 8

Synopsis: Years ago, (Y/n) was left by her villain boyfriend, Dabi after discovering an unexpected news. Ever since then, she never had a lover— focusing on her only son, Yuta. Later on, she meets Todoroki Touya— a new co-worker who seem to be persistent towards winning her heart and attention.

Ship: Dabi x Fem! Reader

❗❗❗Content Warning: Mentions of Abortion, Unplanned Pregnancy, Manga spoilers, Dabi is a Todoroki theory

🖤 » Chapter Navigation « 🖤

"Yuta L/n, you're not going out!" Y/n strictly reprimanded as she tried to keep her son still from his position, lying on bed with a cold towel on his forehead.

It was during a Wednesday when Yuta, y/n's son, had a fever that reached over 41 degrees. Y/n felt threatened about this because her son has never reached this temperature. It's too high— and he also stated something about his body feeling heavy. What could be happening?

"B-but... we're about to watch a movie in school today! I don't want to miss it!" Yuta began bawling his eyes out while Y/n sighed at his dramatic tone. Does it really have to be like this? Yuta has to be emotional and sensitive every time he gets sick? This only reminds her of him— the way he would caress her soft hands every time she would tend his wounds every after a tiring day— the man he used to love, Dabi, would appear to be more gentle and affectionate every time he gets worn out... or ill.

"We're going to watch a movie while you take a rest here at home, okay?" Y/n gently tapped her son's side in an attempt to make him close his eyes and sleep. "For now, take a rest. Or else, it would take longer before you could go outside."

Immediately, Yuta turned his back from his mother in an attempt to be more comfortable; and to have a good sleep. Y/n smiled at his actions. Good thing, her son has always been considerate on her hardwork and the way she disciplines him.

It wasn't too long until she heard a notification from her phone— a message coming from Touya.

touya ❣ : good morning y/n. how's ur pretty face doing?

It's been four months since y/n realized her feelings for Touya. Both of them started dating two months ago and so far, he has been understanding towards her obligations as a mother. Most of their dates included Yuta and there are times when Touya would volunteer to watch over him while she's away during her day shifts. Y/n could never ask for anything— Touya was doing his job greatly; as a boyfriend and as a paternal figure to Yuta.

you : yeah, i'm all good babe. thanks for asking. but yuta's sick rn... i dont really have anyone to take care of him and i need to go for my day shift.

touya ❣ : you want me to go for it? i mean, i only work during nights anyways

Y/n's smile lit up as she read his message. Finally! She thought. She could go to work!

you: sure thing babe 💗✨

Few more minutes, when Yuta has finally travelled to dreamland, Y/n left the house, wearing her thick f/c coat with her hair styled to become more neat-looking. Another day for work, she thought.

It's been two hours since Touya arrived in Y/n's home. Using the spare key under her house's doormat, he decided to enter her house that was silent when he went inside. Until he heard a child's high-pitched scream coming from Yuta's bedroom. His instinct caused him to immediately run towards this direction; but what he saw caused a heavy sensation in his chest. Those familiar blue flames that was once his signature— as Dabi; the heartless villain who claimed 30 innocent lives.

"U-Uncle T-Touya!" Yuta cried in panic while his right hand was burning with blue and heated fire. "W-What should I do?! M-my—"

"Breathe." Touya immediately replied as he kneeled next to him, rubbing his back with his huge and rough hands. "You have to control your breathing and your emotions. You have to control it because the more you panic, the more it will get stronger."

Yuta closed his eyes and focused in calming himself down— taking deep breaths and thinking about things that he liked in life— ice cream, Y/n, Uncle Touya, pro-heroes... all the things that makes him happy. Slowly, the fire became smaller and smaller— until nothing appeared on his hands.

"I-It's gone! The blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as a grin crept on his face. "Did you see that awesome thing on my hand, Uncle Touya?! That must be my quirk, right?"

"Yes, it's an awesome quirk that you have." Touya smiled sadly as he stared at the young and naive child— as if he was seeing his past self; the pure child who was corrupted by his father's evil desires and deeds. It was all fun and games knowing he has an awesome quirk like that... until his father, Enji Todoroki, decided to ruin everything for him.

But he swore to be someone better than him; to be a man suitable to be called a father.

That afternoon, Y/n arrived at her home with such beautiful sight; Touya and Yuta scooped in each others' arms while the movie was left streaming. She smiled at the sight. It was so cute. For a few seconds, she almost believed that Touya was Yuta's father. The young mother couldn't help it but to take a picture of the two while having their peaceful slumber.

"I saw you," Touya spoke, "Delete it."

Y/n giggled as Touya stood up from his position as he tried to grab the phone away from her hands. It was such a cute sight. She was sticking her tongue out while she was trying to chase him. Y/n couldn't help but to feel as if they were all.. what? 17? Whatever, it felt cute, though.

"Yeah, whatever. Have that pic all you want. You can even make it your wallpaper." Y/n got her cheeks pinched by him as he gave her a light kiss on the nose. "I'm going now, sweet cheeks, I'm attending night shift for tonight."

"Sure, sure." Y/n smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek, as she watched his lean and toned figure leave their house. All that's left is her and Yuta. Slowly, his eyes opened to see his mother watching him sleep.

"Mommy?" Yuta spoke in a drowsy tone.

Y/n responded, hugging her son beside her while his eyes still looked sleepy. Seems that the sleep wasn't enough for him, huh? The young lady laughed at this, ruffling his hair, and deciding to ask him. "How was your day with Uncle Touya? Is it better than it was when you're at school?"

The young lad aggressively nodded and decided to tell Y/n the greatest thing that he discovered today.

"My quirk just manifested, ma! I have blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as he tried to show it off with the tip of his fingers. Y/n's eyes widened at this— it created a tingling feeling in her heart. It was like a slap on her face. Yuta is really Dabi's son, isn't he?

"T-That's awesome." Y/n replied, trying to stop tears from flowing.

While her son was still busy talking about his day, her hands were able to feel something on the couch. It was... hard. She pulled out to see a black leather wallet. Did Touya forget his stuff here? Y/n sighed at his forgetfulness. Well, he's a person, she thought, so he has flaws too.

"Did Uncle Touya forget that, ma?" Yuta asked in a polite tone. "Bring it back to him tomorrow, okay?"

Y/n smiled at what he said. She really raised her son well. "Sure!"

It was night time. Yuta went back to sleep and Y/n was busy contemplating inside her room— walking back and forth; thinking about whether she should check his stuff or what.

It's not what others would think. It's just that it's been two months since they got together but Touya only says few things about himself. All she knew is that his parents are living overseas and he's left alone here. He has siblings who lived with their parents in abroad. Nothing more, nothing less.

Aside from that, it wouldn't hurt to peek just a little bit, right?

Y/n sighed as she finally came to a conclusion to check his wallet to see if there's something that would tell more about himself. It's not like she was nosy. She just wants to get to know him at a better level. He's quite of a silent and mysterious guy himself, which got the young lady curious about him.

Of course, there was nothing new; just few IDs, bunch of credit cards (which Y/n thought was odd because if he had this much money, why would he work in an old bar as a bartender), and a thin wad of cash. Nothing else— until something that was so unordinary in her eyes— fell.

Her eyes widened as she saw that memoribilia. No words could come out from her mouth. Her vision felt so dark; as if it was slowly fading; and her heart hurt so much. Only tears could come out from her eyes. No scream, no words, no phrases— simply, nothing.

"Y-you..." Her fists clenched tightly as her form started shaking— she didn't know what to feel. Is it anger, sadness, remorse— what should she feel first? She began to wail as she stared and touched at this object from the past. Whatever that happened was too painful for her to bear.

"You fooled me... Dabi."

That night, Touya was looking for his wallet. It was nowhere to be found; not even in his car. Maybe he left it at your place? Well, whatever the circumstances are, he was hoping that none of you would be able to find it. Maybe, he'd drive towards your place again and—

His thoughts were interrupted as his phone rang. The caller ID showed Y/n— and a selfie that she sent him as the profile picture. Immediately, he answered it.

"Hello, bab—"

"Don't you babe me. We have to talk." Y/n's voice sounded cold and harsh. She was angry... and he knew it. Touya knew that tone several years ago; and if he hears that, he knows that hell will break because of her wrath.

"What is it?"

"Stop acting dumb." Y/n scoffed.

"How the hell are you alive, Dabi?"

Taglist [OPEN]: @babayaga67 @marydragneell @xxtrash-kingxx @paranoiac-666 @velvet-kissesss @orenjineki @mermaid-starlet @ikita454 @yo-girl-lunar @pansexual-booknerd @daimiyu

a/n: i kinda did stop updating this but like bnha chapter 290 got me like 😭😭😭😭 dabi can i give u a hug plspslslslsl 😗😗

#boku no hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha todoroki #bnha fanfiction #bnha matchups #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #dabi is a todoroki #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #dabi imagines #bnha dabi #dabi headcanon #dabi #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero fanfic #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero spoilers

[tallmadgeandtea]

Hi! So I went to the historical district in Philadelphia for the first time yesterday, and here are some highlights of my trip!

• the houses! I love colonial architecture so I loved walking the streets and seeing the row homes.

• the graveyard of St. Peter’s church! It was a beautiful little spot that I stumbled upon and I am still wondering if the church is open cause I’d love to have seen the inside.

• Stopping at Thaddeus Kosciuszko’s to take pics for @ms-march. It was closed, but still cool! Hope he doesn’t mind I sat on his steps to fix my shoe.

• The American Revolution Museum is beautiful! They’ve done a wonderful job with it. I loved the vast collection of weapons they have- so I could have references for SS&SP- and the amount of portraits- quite a few handsome 18th century gentlemen. I also enjoy their program on the Battle of Brandywine.

• (they played the Thomas Paine quote I got the SS&SP title from over the loudspeaker and I totally didn’t make my dad take a picture of me with the quote)

• The definite showstopper though is the program on Washington’s War Tent. I don’t want to spoil it but it’s beautifully done. I teared up.

• Christ Church!!!!! It’s so pretty, especially when the sun is out and you can look at the gardens through the windows. I got to ask questions for planning the benliz wedding, and I even got the business card of someone who works there because I had questions about the organ. (I will post pics.)

And after Philadelphia, (and some traffic that had me praying) we went to VALLEY FORGE!!!!!

• The Potts House is open. THANK. GOD. Only the first floor was open but that’s enough for me.

• I got to talk to a park ranger about supply questions I had for SS&SP, and he was awesome! He even brought up Turn, and defended it!

• I went into the plot of SS&SP a little and he said that it would make the most sense for Liz’s camp liaison to be a Dragoon and y’all... I don’t know what the look on my face was but I’m sure he figured out I was writing a Turn fic right away because well... we all know I (and Lizzie) love a certain Dragoon...

• Honestly, just being in Valley Forge makes me happy, so it was definitely the highlight of the day for me.

• The new grand parade plaques and the field itself is gorgeous!!!

• And, another definite bright moment was the amount of compliments I got on my hat! A lady at the amrev museum, the park rangers, and another worker at valley forge loved it! I’ll have to post pics.

Anyway, thanks for following me and letting me talk about history, and inspiring me to go to these wonderful places!

#it was a good time it was #amanda speaks #amanda goes to *john adams 1776 voice* philadelphia! #long post

[charlesoberonn]

Routine

You start your morning routine waking up a little bit too late to catch the bus that will take you to work on time. But that’s okay, getting to work sweaty uncomfortable is part of your routine.

You spend exactly 6 minutes looking up notifications on your phone. You’re running out of time, but that’s okay, that’s how long you usually do it. You run out of notifications after 4 minutes and spend the rest trying to look at pictures on your feed. Your internet is slow as usually, so you’re mid-loading the fifth pic when your time runs out. You get up to go brush your teeth.

That’s when you do the first fuckup of the day. You brush up and down, and left and right, but you go from up-left to down-left a bit too quickly. So the thing shows up in your mirror.

Its eyes are yellow as usual, but their shape is different every day. Today they’re more like a goat’s eyes. They almost make you laugh, but you’re too choked up to do so.

You go back up to compensate for lost time and the thing disappears again.

Its shadow doesn’t leave your mind until a few minutes later. Wearing your normal clothes, taking exactly 16 steps to your kitchen to make the same breakfast you always do. Or you would, had you had eggs. You make the same breakfast you always make; sans eggs. The thing’s shadow appears in the light of daybreak outside your window.

You missed the bus so you start walking to work like usual. The same steps across the same sidewalks, taking the same shortcuts. The heat of the early morning makes you uncomfortable, but it also makes the shadow of the thing go away, at least for a little bit.

On occassion you have to take a slightly different route. Going around a pedestrian here, crossing a different crosswalk because the light is too slow on your usual one. You can see the thing’s shadow every time you do.

You turn away, trying to distract yourself, but you can still hear its steady and heavy footsteps behind you.

You look around you and see the same people you never speak to going about their own routines. You think the same thoughts, how lucky they must be to have no shadow monster.

Whenever you can, you correct course, putting yourself back on track. This makes the thing fade away, if only for a bit. You can still feel the air displaced by its massive body, you can still see the prints its feets leave in the solid sidewalk. Today it seems to have taken the form of some hulking hairy creature, but its feet are webbed with long claws, judging by its prints.

For the last stretch of the walk everything seems fine. Your underwear are bunchy and your legs are tired, but it’s okay. That’s how they always are. But something is wrong. And not wrong in the usual way.

You look across the street to the shawarma place you always eat at during lunch. It’s closed, the metal screen pulled down over the counter. It’s never closed at this hour. Could you possibly be early?

You’re tempted to pull out your phone. But you shouldn’t. It’s only when you sit down at your cubicle and after you catch up with the morning briefing you missed that you routinely check your phone. But if you’re early, then you’re not gonna miss the morning briefing. You’ll actually be there for it.

You don’t know what to do. You panic. You can feel the thing’s heavy breaths on your neck. It stinks. You want to look around, cross the street and check up on the store, maybe there’s an explanation.

When you look around, you see it. Its face is enormous, the fur around its eyes white with age and lit up by the orange glow coming out of its glazed orbs.

You shriek. People are looking at you, you take a few steps back instinctively. That’s not good. You’re not meant to be notice, and you never walk without looking where you’re going. This is all wrong.

The thing is closer, its gaze growing though its eyes remain the same. Its arms are so long they almost drag across the ground along with its feet, which leave trails of broken bricks as they move.

You turn around, you run the final 29 steps along the sidewalk to your office building, but it only takes you 20 steps. This is all wrong.

You pull out your employee card and press it against the sensor. It doesn’t work. This is all wrong.

“Just open the door.” the doorman says from inside the building.

No, you’re supposed to put your card up to the sensor. Then it’s not supposed to reject it until you try again, and only then can you open the door. That is your routine. This is all wrong.

But there’s no time to worry about it. The thing is behind you, its breath stinks like garbage as it fills the air around your skull.

The lobby is dark, you go up to the elevators, but there’s an out-of-order sign on them. This is all wrong. The thing’s mass blocks the light coming through the glass door.

Somebody taps you on the shoulder. This is all wrong. The thing’s long claws scratch the glass.

It’s one of your co-workers. “Don’t bother, the whole neighborhood is out of power.” She never spoken to you before. This is all wrong. The thing breaks through the door with a rain of broken glass, its hulking body so tall that its newly grown horns are scratching the ceiling.

“I think they’ll just let us home soon.” she says, and then she disappears. The room goes black, and then its walls collapse inward into dust and rubble.

It’s just you and the thing here now. It crouches down to your eye level, and its glowing goat eyes are the only thing you can see in the dark.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you speak, but you soon regret it. The thing opens its mouth, and inside it the blaze of a bright red fire lights a long cavity with a thousand sharp teeth.

Suddenly, its claw is at your throat, and its body contorts to lift you up by your neck. You can feel its sharp talons go all the way around your neck and pinch at the back of your head as the breath is being sucked out of lungs like straws.

“Because I’m trying to protect you.” it speaks without moving its mouth.

With that, the lights in the lobby light up. The elevators ding and open. You and your co-worker go inside, she pushes the button to your office’s floor.

“Is something wrong? You’re kinda sweaty, no offense.” she asks you.

“I’m okay. None taken.” you answer after too many seconds.

“Nothing is wrong.” you say.

#writing #long post #horror #anxiety

[peaches-of-1]

Peachtober | Day 14: Overgrown

Black!Reader x Monster Woo

Summary: Monster Woo is a simple man who sells flowers for a living and you are an Instagram photographer. Your models’ faces are better known than you yourself, but Woo wants to see what’s behind the camera.

Genre: Fluff

Moodboard and reaction requests open! Mstrlst in bio!

During a sunny Spring Day, a new shipment of flowers come in at 꽃벌 (play on words of flower and bee). It is the largest one since it is the start of the season. Valentine's Day is long gone, and White Day was a hit. All of the red and white roses being 70% of the seasonal inventory and now going back to its regular 40% since roses would sell no matter what season or occasion.

Youngwoo rolled up his burgundy sleeves to help the part time worker carry large sacks of fertilizer and dirt into the back while she balanced seedlings and vases under her arms and even atop her coily buzzcut.

“Naveah, once you’re done bringing in all the pots, can you start organizing them please?” He asked.

“Sure, Big Daddy.” She replied.

The tall man sighed, “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Naveah just smiled in response and continued to carry the rest of the product until the truck was empty. Then she began sorting pots by height and material while Woo worked on answering calls and writing down some new clients and jobs they were wanted for. A few weddings, a birthday, two divorce parties. One he turned down because they were planning on burning flowers, and he could never imagine putting his beautiful gifts through that.

A young woman about 20 or older came in dressed in purple slacks, heels to match, and a white shirt. Her typha colored hand reaching into her purse for her phone to check if she was at the right location.

She entered the store and Woo told the woman on the phone, “One second.”

“Hello.”

“Hello, I am Y/N and I run a photography blog. I was wondering if you would be interested in hiring me to take pictures of your flowers for advertising. I have experience with both still life and live models.” She said, setting her card down on the desk.

Woo picked it up and read the Hangul and the English translation. She was a photographer for sure.

“Why does your name seem so familiar?”

She gave a smile, “A few of my models have walked during Seoul Fashion Week this past bit cuz they saw my photos.”

He smiled, “Ah, right. It seems like  with a face like yours, you would be the one in front of the camera.”

Y/N began to blush, “Oh, um. Thank you.”

The two just stared at each other and smiled for a moment before she spoke up.

“Well, I should get going. You have a phone call to get back to.”

Woo nodded, “Oh, right. Yes. It was nice meeting you and I will be in contact.”

The woman left and the florist finished the call, thankful they hadn't hung up. Y/N...jeez she was beautiful.

The sound of a glass vase breaking snapped the tall man out of his daze. He sighed and called out the worker's name before heading over to get the broom to hand to her.

After work, Woo locked up and said farewell to his worker before taking a taxi home. Before going to bed, he looked up the Instagram page that was on the card Y/N gave him.

She was really good. Like, it was so much better than he had expected. Pictures of flowers in vases and people and so many beautiful faces. A lot of her stuff was currently flower based. It seemed she didn’t delete the stuff from her early days either. The camera quality had gome up so much too. Woo couldn’t help but like one of them that made him think of a tattoo. Wait, no.

It was from 4 years ago! She was going to think he was a creep! No, no. Y/N wouldn’t do that, right? It was just a possible employer checking out an employee’s past work to see if it would affect his current business. He made up his mind. Woo would hire the beautiful black girl to work for his company. All of his current photos were taken by him and Naveah, so they weren’t that great. If they could up the photo quality of the inventory, then they would sell more.

The large man soon fell asleep thinking about what floral arrangements he would make for each tier. Each one was linked with a color, so he could make it monochrome. Or maybe most of that color. Y/N looked really cute in purple. Hair like an allium.

The next day at the shop, Youngwoo called her while setting up the flowers he would use for this week’s specialty arrangement.

“Hello, this is Photobomb Productions, Y/N speaking.” She said in English and then repeated it in Korean.

Woo smiled, “Hello. This is Youngwoo from 꽃벌. I would like to take you up on your offer of becoming our floral photographer. I have been meaning to take some new pics for some summer deals.”

He could hear her squaling out of excitement in the background and then she cleared her throat and talked professionally, “That is great to hear. What day or time would the photographic subjects be ready for me to photograph?”

“Today is Friday, so I will be busy all weekend. I can get them done by either Tuesday or Wednesday since I already have sketches. All I have to do it put them together.”

“Perfecto! How does Tuesday at 2pm sound?” Y/N asked.

Woo looked at his schedule, “I have a delivery at 1:30 in the afternoon, but I will probably have my worker handle that one.”

“I see. Alright, well, I will see you then. Do not hesitate to call me if we have to move it to Wednesday. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Woo replied and the woman hung up.

“Who was that, Big Daddy?” his worker asked, carrying in a box of seeds to set up in the seed bin near the front.

He rolled his eyes, “That woman who came in yesterday. A photographer. She’s gonna take photos for us from now on. I’m gonna be up late drafting up a contract and then we’ve gotta--” The tattooed florist sighed. “I shouldn’t bore you with technicalities. Let’s get these arrangements done.”

“Let me bring over the vases.” The short haired woman said.

Woo looked at the workbench, “Neveah, where are the Calla Lilies?” he asked after her.

“We had two weddings that wanted them, so we are getting an emergency shipment in, but not until tomorrow.” She replied, making sure the seed packets fell flat before adding more on.

He nodded, “Right. Right. Um…” then he remembered the thought he had last night and went to a sky blue bucket and picked out a bulbous purple flower with a long stem. “We’ll use these today instead.”

And so for the next few minutes before the sign was flipped, the two made matching arrangements. Neveah had always wanted to do more now that her probation was up. Woo’s shop was known for flowers and arrangements, served weddings of all types and even funerals. The most important thing about it was who it employed, however. Former convicts and people who were needed someplace to work while on probation.

Youngwoo believed that everyone deserved a second chance and that humans could change, which is why he hired who he did.

“Ah, it didn’t come out as well as yours.” Neveah said as hers had a bit of a bend in the long stem and just seemed overall more messy than the one her boss made.

“Don’t worry about it. This is only the third one you’ve ever made, so I think you did really well. In fact, yours will go on the box instead of mine so people will see it first.” The man set hers onto the white wooden box in the window and placed his next to it.

Dark pink roses and sunflowers graced the top of the white vase with solid aster placed in here and there. The allium rested above each one like a proud head. They would stay in the front for the week and then they would be dead and turned into compost for a nearby flower nursery.

The woman smiled and then it was time to flip the sign. Business didn’t pick up until around lunch which was the usual thing. People buying either a single flower or a dozen on the way to a date. When Neveah left for the day, Yieun clocked in and hugged Woo having started this business together before she tried and failed to become an idol.

“Is the car filled up yet? Remember, I have to drop off some stuff for a business meeting and a 16th birthday today.” She said.

“It’s all packed up and ready to go. Feel free to double check, but it had been pretty quiet today.” He replied. “Ah, are there business cards still inside?”

Tuesday came, and Woo was nervous to see her again. They had talked over the phone for the past couple of days to finalize things. Y/N was really kind but he could tell how much her work meant to her. It was a small business that she was ultimately running on her own and often didn’t get paid for her time because people hardly ever took the arts seriously. Photography was no exception.

People thought it was just sitting in good lighting, point and click, which it wasn’t.

Woo had three different arrangements made for each color level. White, green, purple, and yellow. Each added the amount of flower types and the default price was a clear glass vase. A custom vase color/type would cost $3 extra. The second and third were in custom vases and set up in the workshop.

It was extra clean for today and there were no arrangements to be made. Mondays through Wednesdays were the slowest of the slow most of the time. That meant today was perfect for Y/N to come in.

She arrived right on time in a yellow long sleeve top tucked into a rainbow skirt and white and rainbow shoes. Rainbow accessories too, but carrying a duffle bag of work stuff.

Yieun was out on her current delivery, so Woo fixed his brows and hair before greeting her with a poliot bow.

“Hello, Y/N. How are you doing today? Have you eaten?” He asked.

“I am doing well, and yes I have. I went to a taco place. It was good, but the sauce stained the jacket I was wearing.” The woman sighed, tying her hair back before she set up everything.

It wasn’t the most glamorous thing, but Woo asked if he could watch. She said as long as he stayed behind the camera, it was ok. However, the man wasn’t watching the flowers, but instead watched how she worked. The way she bent over to get a better angle from her tripod and set up the lights.

She seemed so delicate, like she herself was a rose petal in need of much care. However, they way she pursed her lips seemed to go perfectly like thorns. The man knew she wasn’t thinking about him. Her eyes were on the flowers, but at the same time, Y/N was all he could think about for the past week.

Sometimes his imagination would try to run away with the idea of her, but that wasn’t fair to her. He barely knew her last name.

The shy and strong Woo was enchanted by the photographer. Ah, he wanted to say something to her. To ask her out, but she was so professional. This was just work for her, and he didn’t want to get in the way of her job. Still, wasn’t it worth a chance to at least get a proper answer instead of wondering “What if?”

“No, no.”

“Um, Youngwoo? Can you help raise this up a bit more?” She reached her brown hand towards the top of the light.

As the taller man helped her, he decided to just go for it, “Hey, um, Y/N. Feel free to say no, but I was um. I was wondering if you would possibly maybe want to go on a sort of kind of date with me?”

“Oh, um, sure. Right there is good.”

Woo tightened the stand, and she began taking pictures again.

“What kind of place were you thinking?” She asked. “Y’know, for our date? Dinner and a movie?”

“I’d like to take you on a picnic. I know it’s sort of cliche, but Han River is really nice and there’s usually some nice busking that goes on there.” He said was her felt his heart beat outside of his chest, “I am leaving the shop to Yieun and a part timer this weekend. We can do it then.”

Y/N smiled up at him as she stood on the other side of the arrangement, “Sounds like a plan, Youngwoo. I shall wear a dress.”

“You can wear anything you want. I’m sure you’ll look great.” The man answered earnestly.

A surprised smile before Yieun called for him. Woo said he’d be right back and went to go talk to his co-worker about what had to be done. It wasn’t much. Just a bit of organizing here and there and sweeping. Simple things that took a while.

“By the way~” She whispered. “Did you ask her out? Niveah said she’s all you talk about.”

“I did.” He replied, playing coy.

“And? Did she say yes?”

A smile broke out on his face, “She did.”

Yieun put her hands up for a high five and asked for details one their hands met in celebration.

The following days, Woo kept sending his friend photos for potential outfits. She kept telling him to ditch the dress shirts because he looked awkward in them. It was just a casual thing, so he went with some gray sneakers, khakis, and a black and white striped top. Because of the pollen forecast, he opted out of contacts and just wore his glasses. The most expensive thing he wore was his gold watch from a birthday.

He had decided on a simple picnic instead of the ferry for dinner. Maybe if things went well, but he didn't wanna look too far ahead. He knew of a spot away from the main busy area where a few weeping willows provided the perfect shade.

“Youngwoo-ssi!” Her familiar voice called.

The man was breathless as could be as Y/N walked towards him, her copper skin covered in a blue and white dress that allowed for her arm to be bare except for a gold and white bracelet. Simple makeup other than a pink matte lip that accented her smile.

They bowed and greeted each other.

“You look...amazing.” He couldn’t help but stared.

“Thank you. You look great, too. I think this is my first time seeing you without an apron on.” She replied.

Woo smiled in response, “Thank you. I have a super special spot for us. A friend told me about it.”

She smiled, “Sounds great.”

“Have you had any other clients lately?” He asked.

“Oh my gosh, so I had this really sweet woman come in yesterday with her pregnant wife so that we can do the pregnancy announcement pictures and stuff. This is fine. I had it set up and such for that because she made an appointment.”

The tall man smiled, “Oh, that is really nice.”

“However, she went into labor in the middle of me taking the photos.”

“She what?”

“Right?

Woo asked, “Did she not know she was going to give birth?”

Y/N shrugged dramatically, “I guess not, but luckily, my next door neighbor is in her last year of training to become a nurse. She helped to deliver the baby in my bathtub.” She laughed. “I spent most of the day cleaning it.”

Both of them laughed at the whole story. That’s what it was like to have an at home studio as a photographer.

“Ah, here it is.”

Behind the leaves of a willow tree, there was a perfect little alcove where a red gingham blanket was spread out and food was separated between the two in the form of sandwiches. Conversation flowed smoothly as the overgrown tree provided shade for the couple that fate decided to put together. They talked about work and of family.

Kim Youngwoo blushed when she complimented him on being a good person, taking in people society had rejected because of a series of bad mistakes.

He told her about how he just wanted to help people like him, how the U.S. basically deported him back to Korea because of--

“I don’t care what you did, Youngwoo.” Y/N said honestly. “You’re obviously not the same person you were back then, or at least you are doing much better. Besides, that isn’t the person I’m starting fall for.”

“Who are you starting to fall for?” Woo asked, hoping his heart was beating for all the right reasons.

She bit her lip and then looked up at him after hesitating to say the truth, “You.”

#Monster Woo #Woo Fam #Kim Youngwoo #Monster Woo x Reader #Reader x Monster Woo #Youngwoo x Reader #Reader x Youngwoo #Florist!AU #Black!Reader #Female!Reader #Photographer!Reader #Instagram #Fluff #cuteness #Peachtober #Inktober '19 #Inktober #Inktober 2019

[cilliansaccent]

Class of Temptation - CHAPTER TWO

Leave a like, reblog or comment below to show your support and love! Enjoy…

PLEASE READ:

No mention of Cillian’s true family or relatives. All names are made up.

This is a TEACHER x STUDENT fanfiction, it’s going to be kinky and very taboo!

I will write whenever the mood grabs me, so I apologise if there are long breaks between chapters :)

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Background: Tessa is a twenty-three-year-old model from a broken-up family, living in London with her best friend and starting a course on Drama and Theatre. Though, when she gets closer to the super hot Mr Murphy who is her much older teacher, there is a battle of lust and love between them. They’ll have to figure out what to do with their tight relationship as other issues begin to rise and nip at their heels…

Word Count: 2,196

!!Warnings!!: None.

Chapter Name: Mr Murphy

Brief Chapter Outline: Tessa attends Orientation week at her selected University and explores the campus and the courses and clubs it offers. She then goes to her info session for her Drama course and finds herself meeting a very handsome man... 

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A few days had passed since her birthday and today was Orientation week at the selected Uni Tessa had picked. She had picked out a casual outfit, black shorts and a champagne silk blouse with flared short sleeves. She added low cut converse shoes and pulled her hair up in a high pony-tail. 

She threw on her small backpack that had her keys, wallet, phone and a notepad in case she needed to take some notes down. Esther would meet with her by the afternoon at the uni. 

Tessa headed off, she had already posted a pic of herself on Instagram and smiled at the comments. She occasionally got some hate but she just ignored them. 

As she sat on the train, she began to contemplate. Her thoughts wandered to the card she received from her father and the conversation she had with Mila about it. Her father had been right, Mila and he had been in contact for almost three years now and seemed to be on good terms. 

Aria, on the other hand, had not taken the news so well when Mila had told her a few months back. Yet, Tess did not really care. The only thing she didn't like was that Mila gave their shit father her address to her apartment. 

Tessa had vowed that day she left she would not ever keep in contact with him or let him know her whereabouts. But so much for that. She hoped she would not see another letter again if she did she would be thoroughly mad. 

She made sure she told Mila to never give anything to their father which resulted in a heated argument and Mila hung up on her. 

Tessa sighed as she got off the train and headed up to the street above. She gave herself a moment and admired the bustling crowd of tourists and workers. Many would say London was too hectic and crazy but Tessa loved the fast-paced atmosphere of it. And the photos always looked so good when she took them. 

Sydney had been where she was birthed. She only remembered a bit of it, living along a coastline in a pretty small home. But the rest it was a blur of screaming and yelling when it came to her father and her birth mother. 

The university came into view and she headed inside as she was handed pamphlets and a bag. There was a tour guide but she wanted to do this on her own, find her own way around. There was a lot of people, many younger girls and boys with their families. It made her sad that she had to do this without some parent beside her, no smiling father or a proud mother. 

Tessa trudged on, checking out the many other courses the uni offered and talked to the people. More hand-outs she took before she found where she could check out the clubs they offered. She made sure to sign up for the art club, a chilled afternoon once a week where a group gathered and just drew and talked. 

She then went to the orchestra club and introduced herself to the large group. They seemed super keen that she would be joining them and managed to get their social handles. She laughed when they were shocked to see she was an elite model and they were gushing, especially the girls. 

After that, Tessa went to listen in on some other courses that spiked her interest and took notes down. Then off she went to her drama talk. 

People were walking out of the lecture room as she came in, it seemed to be finished. 

"Oh, did I miss it?" She frowned as she spotted a man bent down and retrieving something from his bag. 

The man turned as he straightened himself. He was dressed in skinny black jeans, a green shirt with a low cut V neck and a casual suit jacket in which he was just taking off. 

"You did. But no worries, there will be another in fifteen minutes. Care to hang around." He said in his Irish accent, a sweet smile graced that sharp cut face. 

Tessa was mesmerised by how clear his blue eyes were, "Oh, uh, okay. Sorry." She laughed nervously as she awkwardly sat down. 

"You don't need to sit that far, come on. Come upfront." He waved her over, taking a sip of his water bottle. 

Tessa hesitated but got up as she made her way over to the front. 

"I'm Cillian Murphy," He said, holding his hand out to her. 

"U-Uh... I'm Tessa." She took his hand. It was strong and firm once she sat down, his flashy watch curled around a veined wrist.  

"Nice to meet you, Tessa. So you've picked Drama and Theatre, hm?" He took a seat in front of her. He had a thick head of hair which was parted at the side and seemed to curl over his forehead. She also noticed the freckles that dusted his buttoned nose and pale cheeks. 

But most importantly she was shocked to actually meet the famous man, "Yeah. I have. I want to go, um, into a different pathway." She nodded. 

"Oh? Have you studied before?" He sat back, arms loosely folded over his chest. His gentle smile never fading. 

"No. Never." She shook her head. 

"You work then? You seem very well dressed." He mused. 

"I'm a model. I work for various fashion brands." She felt her nerves kick in, she wasn't the type to just accept compliments from people she didn't know. It made her feel weird. 

Cillian seemed to see the discomfort in her and sighed, "Sorry. I don't mean to come across as overbearing or too straightforward. But a model, hey? That's alright." He said in a more gentler tone. 

"Mhm. I love it, it's fun. But I want more so drama has been something I've always wanted to do. So I finally took that chance." Tessa replied not really meeting his gaze. 

"Good, good. Well, I'll be teaching the class, I got good experience so you'll be learning from the best." He winked at her as he stood, "I gotta go freshen myself up. Rest here and we'll get the info session started soon." He said before he left her alone in the room. 

Tessa eased back in the chair as her shoulders finally relaxed. That was super intense but it might just be her racing nerves. It was busy today and a lot going on. 

Especially with a man, she would not ever dream of meeting. She had seen him in a couple of films and he was exceptionally great. She would hope to be just as good as he but first thing first was that she had to overcome her fear of... well, acting in front of people. 

Modelling was kind of different. All she had to do was strut down the catwalk in her outfit, pose and walk off. She wasn't in the spotlight for a long time, only briefly for photos. Or when it came to photoshoots she was surrounded by people she knew and wasn't afraid of showing her body off or being up against a man or a woman. 

Tessa would not let her fear of strangers overwhelm her. She had to deal with this before, a little more different but she would do this. She had to. The only way to make a better life for herself. 

People began to filter in and it was soon pretty full. Cillian had returned and clapped his hands together, "Well, it looks like a full house so I can start." He said and got right into it. 

He took them through the structure of the course, what to expect, what materials were needed. There was a project to be done by the end of the first year, to work as a whole class and create a play and perform it. 

This would be interesting, she thought, writing down her notes. Three years worth. It was very daunting. 

Though she really enjoyed Cillian's passion, he spoke from the heart and seemed like a really cool man. She looked forward to the class if he was going to be like this. 

"I do hope to see some you guys in class, thank you for coming. Catch ya later." He smiled and people stood up and filed out. 

"So you thinking of enrolling?" Cillian brought his attention back to Tessa who had a page full of notes. 

"I already am. Just wanted to come in and listen to make sure I picked the course I want to do." She looked up and met those gorgeous eyes. He had put on his brown and black spotted glasses. He really did look like the drama type of teacher. 

"Oh yeah? You don't got any questions?" He asked. 

"Uhm... You mentioned a big project to be done by the end of the first year. What is that like?" She asked it was the only thing that worried her. 

"Well, it's a task the board have made to bring out teamwork in a group. Usually, when you are working on a piece, you are working with many other people. So we want to see how well you interact with others off stage and on stage as well." He explained. 

"Oh, okay. I see. And I'm guessing we will get notified of the exam as well?" She asked. 

"Yeah. Of course," He nodded, "Closer to the end of each term you will be notified." 

"Sorry for the silly questions. I-I just want to know." She said, holding her back close as if it may protect her. 

"No question is silly. Ask as many as you want." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Any more?" 

"None, thank you." She let out a soft sigh. 

"Alright. Well, I'll see you when the semester starts. Nice meeting you, Miss Tessa." He held out his hand and she took it and shook. 

"Nice meeting you too, Mr Murphy." She blushed a little. 

"Just Cillian, please." He said with a soft laugh. 

"Okay, Cillian. See you now." She said and turned to head out of the room. 

She spent the rest of her morning attending other information sessions of other classes and took a small tour with a group around campus. 

Esther called her up to tell Tessa she was here so on she went to the main gates to find her best friend all dolled up. 

"Hey!" Esther smiled and they embraced. 

"Hi, how was the shoot?" Tessa asked her. 

"Really good. I got to keep some of the lingerie that was used." She giggled. "Wearing it right now." She wiggled her eyebrows at her. 

"Oh," Tessa gave her a hip bump, "Lucky you." 

"Let's go eat! You gotta talk to me about today." Esther said as they headed to a Thai restaurant. 

Once they sat, checked the menu and ordered, Esther had her full attention on Tessa. "So, how was it?" 

"It was good. The campus is so nice! So green, there's like a giant park next to it. I went to some info sessions on other classes to see what they were like. But, oh my god." Tessa said in an excited tone, "You would not believe who is my drama teacher." 

Esther raised her brow, "Who?" She was confused. 

"You know that hot actor, that one played in Batman as the evil guy scarecrow? Inception? And that new movie, Anna?" Tessa said. 

Esther's eyes widened, "No fucking way." She said. 

"Yes fucking way! It's him, Cillian Murphy." Tessa said with equal excitement. 

"Holy fuck! Oh my god. Oh. My. God." Esther was shaking with such enthusiasm. "That is gonna be so awesome. Does he look like how he looks in the movie?" Esther leaned forward. 

"Oh fuck he does. He wears glasses too. Unbelievable. At first, I didn't really like, put it together but when he spoke I knew instantly who he was. He was so kind to, but I was still so nervous." Tessa smiled a little. 

"So he'll be teaching the class. What's the class like?" Esther continued. 

"Three years and at the end of the first year we gotta have a play ready to showcase." Tessa shuddered. "That's really intense." 

"Oh, it sounds like it. But you're gonna ace it! I know you will." Esther reached over and took her hands. 

"Yeah?" Tessa looked up and met her pretty eyes. 

"Yeah. I believe in you." Esther kissed her hands and pulled back as their food came. "I've always believed in you from the moment we met. I know you can do this." 

Tessa blushed, "Thank you, Esther. Means a lot." She said before they ate and chatted about Esther's shoot. After they ate they headed back to central London where the agency was and continued on with some other shoots they had to do for the rest of the afternoon that went well into the evening. 

Tessa was glad to be back home and spend the night cuddled up with Esther watching a TV Show. The two girls fell asleep like that wrapped in a light blanket. 

#cillian murphy #teacher x student #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #fanfiction

[jessiewre]

Day 59

Tues 3rd Mar

🏔Moshi to Arusha 🚍

It was time for us to leave Moshi and move onto Arusha, a city 2 hours away renowned as the starting point for all the big safari parks.

I went up early for brekkie on the rooftop and this time, we had bananas but there appeared to be no coffee. I asked the woman and she confirmed it and was just like ‘Sorry, no coffee’.

As I write this, I have the overwhelming feeling that it definitely feels like the right time to step back from the blog. First, I’m telling you about there being no bananas at breakfast. Jesus. Then the next day there is no coffee. I’m thinking WOW. This is boring isn’t it. But then again, some of you may be so bored reading about Coronaviru that this is a welcome break.

Well, it did jazz up a bit and get exciting, cos I looked up and coffee had appeared. JUST LIKE THAT. Thats right! One minute it was there, then the next, Poof! Like magic! God knows how long it had been there, the woman didn’t feel the need to mention it to me despite knowing I wanted coffee. Absolute JOKE.

We spent the morning packing our bags and debating what our plan should be, while Phil huffed and puffed, flipping between angryman and stresshead. He had definitely got out on the wrong side of the bed, but as the great Irish philosopher Ronan Keating once said, Life is a rollercoaster. Well, Phil was certainly riding that rollercoaster. He was hot and cold like a broken tap I tells ya.

Despite Phil’s multiple attempts to get one, not having a SIM card was irritating him a lot, especially considering we needed to ring various people about hotels and safaris. So after a bit more grumbling, he went off like a true moody hero to try Vodacom again. I ‘minded the bags’ and did some hotel research (ie. I had a nice long chat with Evie and then spoke to Luke & Bex about house viewings).

Despite the 10am check out time (its more a suggestion than a rule right?), I sat in our hotel room with the door open to imply I was leaving ‘any minute’ and positioned a towel hung on the bed pole, perfectly hiding my face from the doorway view to ensure I avoided eye contact with any hotel workers passing by 😏.

I thought about Phil, all alone in that annoying phone shop, and felt a pang of guilty. Or was it hunger? Hard to know. But either way, I sent him some WhatsApp messages to give the impression I was doing lots of excellent research (that should Cheer him up, I thought), and crossed my fingers that the hilarious GIFS I was sending would put him in an AMAZING mood. He loves a GIF does our Phil. After the pain of sim card buying, I knew it could go either way but at least he’d only get the messages once he’d eventually got a working sim so I had a chance...

Well, I soon saw the ticks ☑️ turn that beautiful shade of blue and nervously waited for a response.

THANKFULLY I got two of the best emoji’s I could have hoped for.

🕺🏻 🕺🏻

It was then I knew that Sweetbox were right back in the 90s - Everything’s Gona be Alright.

My overstaying-my-welcome plan worked for 2 whole hours and I made it to midday sat in the hotel room before I got a polite knock on the door to ask me to vacate.

‘Ohh I didn’t realise the time, of course I’ll leave straight away’.

Phil returned and strongly declared we should go to Milan’s Indian for a quick lunch before going to get the bus. Well, the awkward thing was, I didn’t want to eat curry for lunch (not a sentence I say often)...but then again, I also really didn’t want to risk messing with Phil’s mood...

I decided to try the softly, softly approach and lightly suggested we go to the Kilimanjaro coffee lounge.

Phil jerked his face round to me angrily and the atmosphere instantly went ice cold.

‘What is WRONG with Milans?? You loved the food there and its really close by!’.

I quietly explained again that although it was a lovely place, I simply didn’t want curry for lunch, and he obviously couldn’t argue with that. Such is life. But it definitely REALLY annoyed him and he stropped out of the hostel with his bags in search of a tuc tuc.

We both stood on the corner of the street in blasting heat waiting for a tuc tuc to appear and for some reason, there were NONE. Everytime we saw one and waved it down, it would go zooming past and we would see there were already people in the back. Phil was ready to burst with annoyance but as the sun began to nearly melt our heads, I finally waved one down.

We went to put our bags in and then got a shock as we realised there was already a woman in the back!

‘No problem no problem’ declared the driver as he saw the look on our faces, and he ushered at me to put my rucksack into the back. Well, that was harder than it looked.

‘Oh for Gods sake’ Phil said under his breath, but not so much that we all didn’t hear him and I started to attempt getting my bag in.

Phil watched on in disbelief and was like ‘This is ridiculous! Where are we meant to sit??’

Phil then tried to get his bag in while I tried to sit in the front with the driver, but the driver was like ‘Nah you go in back’, then the woman was sort of holding Phil’s massive rucksack and there was not really any room for us and Phil just lost his rag completely 😂

‘Right, forget it! Take the bags out Jess! I AM NOT GETTING THIS TUC TUC!’

I had a point like.

Thankfully, a nearby boda driver had a great loud whistle and managed to hail another tuc tuc down straightaway, just before Phil spontaneously combusted, and we went to Kili coffee lounge where there were too many witnesses for Phil to maintain his grumpy face for too long. PHEW.

I enjoyed a simple cheese tomato toastie with fries (opposite of a curry I’d say) and now that he’d calmed down, Phil told me about his morning visit to the phone shop. While he was stood in the phone shop, stressing out and getting super angry and wound up by the slow process, he went to look at his phone and clicked to unlock it. To his utter shock, on the screen was an image he’d NEVER seen before, and it was one of those ‘Inspirational Quote’ memes.

It said:

If you can’t handle stress

You can’t handle success

He stood in total amazement, starring at the screen, wondering how the powers that be had managed to target him in this way, how google was so onto him. How had they known he was MEGA stressed and how had they got this image onto his phone?!?! Maybe it was a message from GOD?!

WELL after further investigation (the back button), he discovered that it was the profile picture of the phone shop guys. He’d added the guys number as part of the sim registration process, then he’d accidentally clicked on this guys whatsapp profile pic without realising, then locked his phone 😂😂😂😂😂.

Anyway, back to the cafe, it had been 30 minutes of good vibes so naturally Phil started to dip again, this time stressing about getting a bus to Arusha. After all the bus journeys we’ve ever done, I have NO IDEA why this simple 2 hour journey was getting to him so much, but hey ho sometimes these things don’t make sense do they. He’s a complicated and simple fellow in equal measures.

We put on our bags and walked to Tahmeed buses to see if by chance they had one of their nice buses passing through anytime soon, so we could avoid the super basic local buses that stop every 5 minutes. Much to Phil’s joy, they said SURE there’s one departing in about 15 minutes and that was the first time that day that Phil reeally smiled, ya know like with all his teeth and his eyes. It was beautiful.

The bus arrived about 30 minutes later (not too bad by African standards!) and we took a seat, only to realise it was actually some guys seat who had just jumped off the bus for a drink - and he just happened to have a huge machete on his belt! He seemed fine with it though and sat somewhere else! The bus guys weirdly would not allow anyone to have their windows open, instead insisting that we have the AC on. I kept opening my window a bit anyway as the AC above my head was blocked and I needed the fresh air, but the bus man was getting really annoyed. The locals wanted their windows open too but the bus man was stomping round the bus shutting them all and shouting at people, while people shouted back at him. As people coughed and sneezed 🤧 as humans tend to do, I wondered how many germs were getting regurgitated back through the system during this time of hyper virus mania... 🦠

The woman next to me fell asleep on me for most of the journey then we arrived to Arusha town. As we’d read would happen, we were completely HOUNDED on arrival by men trying to sell us safaris. One guy pretended to work for the bus company while getting my bag to hand me, I was like Dude I can get my own bag.

They were all talking at once trying to give us business cards, one guy said another guy was a liar, another accused another of being a thief, and it was just chaos and frankly, harassment - so Phil told them all to Frig the Frig off and we walked the 6 minute walk to our hotel Raha Leo Inn.

We walked through the door feeling immediate relief to be away from the hassling streets, when suddenly the door opened behind us and the guy who’d pretended to be working for the bus company walked in and started to try and sell us a safari!I was like Hey I thought you said you worked for the bus company mate, and he was like ‘Yes yes, they are my friends, but I have safari’. What the hell does that even mean haha. He even pointed to a safari vehicle parked outside and said ‘Uh, this is my vehicle’.

Uh, I don’t think it is mate 😂

But in an attempt to make him go away, I took the card from him and said Thanks, I’ll be in touch if we need to, ba bye now, ba bye.

It was too late though, Phil was FAR too annoyed by it all and he went for it.

‘You have just FOLLOWED US here and now you come INSIDE the hotel to hassle us?? I don’t want your card! I will NOT be doing a safari with you, take you card and please leave’.

Incase the guy wasn’t clear, Phil shoved the card into his hand while he said it.

The guy was rather disgruntled at all this but left the hotel looking defeated. Phil puffed his chest out a bit and gave his chest some big fist blows in a gorilla like fashion.

About 5 minutes later, I watched a completely different man drive off in the safari vehicle the guy had been referring to...

The hotel was clean and pleasant enough, although the lack of a TOILET SEAT was a little strange 😂. Also we noticed a man walk into the hotel and straight up to the social area without being stopped by the staff, and he turned out to be another safari seller. Hmm. We made a mental note to keep an eye on our valuables and not leave them out anywhere...

I was back to normal and ready to eat curry by dinner time so we went to find the the LP recommended Hot Plate restaurant. Directly opposite it was a stall of crazy shirts and we couldn’t resist a quick look before we headed inside, immediately finding a sweet shirt that we had to buy for 20k tsh (about £6.50). The young lads running the stall were buzzing, though why there needed to be 4 of them working I’ll never know. Thats like 1 guy for every 2 shirts available. We did the crazy handshake to celebrate the purchase which they really lolled at.

Obviously then I washed my hands - while singing the chorus of 21 seconds by So Solid Crew.

Our dinner was soooo good - maybe the best masala fries so far, a delicious dosa, and loads of other lovely food - and we went to find a tuc tuc to get back, eventually finding one at the petrol station, and took our huge doggy bag of food with us.

On return, we found out one of the hotel staff had her phone taken that very day! We told them they really needed to invest in a lock on the front door so only staff and guests could enter. They agreed with us and so will probably do absolutely nothing about it.

After spending almost 11 hours of his time searching, Phil FINALLY found the official marathon snaps of himself and was (understandably of course) very excited to see them, so we had a good look through those for about an hour (there were 10 photos after all) before finally getting back to The Crown.

3rd

[allhailkingrooker51]

So, there’s this guy...

that y’all may know that I’m freakin’ madly in love with.  He goes by the name Michael Rooker. 😜 I finally got to meet him.  Here’s my story...*Law & Order noise*

Fandemic Houston Day 1 - September 14, 2018

My alarm went off at 7:30 a.m.  I was already awake though.  I had hardly slept at all.  I had hardly slept the last two months for that matter as September 14th got closer.  I couldn’t remember ever being this excited for anything in my entire life.  This was going to be the best weekend ever.  

I jumped out of bed, got ready, and packed the car, mostly with Rooker memorabilia.  I hadn’t officially decided what all I wanted him to autograph yet so I brought a little of everything – some of my Rooker Funkos, all my Yondu, Merle, and Chick Gandil trading cards, and my all-time favorite Rooker picture printed out as an 8X10.  I mapped out the directions to the NRG Center on my phone and swung by to pick up my best friend who I’ve known since kindergarten.  After a little detour to Chick-fil-a to get some breakfast, we were on our way to Fandemic Houston.

My friend doesn’t know much about Rooker.  As far as his movies, she had only seen Vol. 1 and Vol. 2.  I had sent her various Rooker videos on YouTube, though, for her to watch as “homework” like the Into the Night doc with James Gunn and the Inside of You podcast with Michael Rosenbaum.  The whole way down to Houston, I told her as many Rooker stories as I could think of.  She had a lot of catching up to do before she met the greatest person on this planet.

Things were going great.  We were making good time on the road.  My friend seemed entertained with the Doug Loves Movies podcast with the cast of Super, including Rooker and the Gunn Bros., that I was forcing her to listen to.  Then things suddenly changed.

I had been having bad feelings about this trip even months before.  Meeting Michael Rooker would be my biggest dream come true, but every time I paid for something for Fandemic, whether it was the hotel or Rooker VIPs or Sean Gunn's autograph, I was just waiting for the ball to drop and I wouldn’t be able to go.  I never really get to do anything fun ever, and in the back of my mind, something was going to go wrong.  Something always does.  And something did.

We were cruising down interstate about an hour outside of Houston.  It began to rain.  No big deal.  I turned on the windshield wipers, and we continued laughing with the podcast on the radio.  Then I noticed the passenger side windshield wiper was doing this little fish-tailing action every time it went across the windshield.  I had just had new windshield wipers installed two days earlier, but I hadn’t had to use them yet, and I thought, “You know, that doesn’t look right.”

Then I noticed the one in front of me started to do the same thing.  Just as I opened my mouth to tell my friend there's something wrong with the windshield wipers, the rain started coming down like a monsoon and both wipers flew off my car with an almost comical synchronized whoosh.  

Well, fuck.

Somehow, by the grace of God, I was able to cross over two lanes of busy interstate to the shoulder without causing a 15-car pileup.  Once the mini panic attack of trying to safely get to the side of the road subsided and after I dropped a plethora of choice curse words, I turned on my hazards and began to think. What the hell are we gonna do?  

It was raining fucking cats and dogs, and I couldn’t see shit.  Think!  Plan B. Plan B.  Wait, what was plan B?  I wasn’t expecting this.  We didn’t even have a plan B.  

Should we just wait out the rain for a bit?  Maybe it would stop soon.  But I had already checked the weather earlier, and it was supposed to rain all day.  

This can’t be happening.  The greatest day of my life and I’m stranded on the interstate in a deluge with no windshield wipers three and a half hours away from home.  And to top it all off, I have a pre-purchased Sean Gunn/Rooker photo op in a few hours that I couldn’t miss.  This was not good.

We sat there for a few minutes hoping the rain would subside enough for me to at least get us off the highway.  We started googling the nearest auto parts store while we waited.  There was one less than a mile away.  

Vehicles were flying past me in a blur, and the fear of someone plowing into the back of my car took over.  I knew we had to get off the interstate as soon as possible.  Luckily an exit was about 50 feet away, and I had to try for it.  With the rain letting up just a tad, and with my friend looking out the passenger side window and guiding me along the edge of the asphalt, I managed to creep off the interstate shoulder going about three miles per hour onto the service road.  I could still barely see, but I felt a little more relieved being off the interstate. 

The rain kept coming.  My view through the windshield looked the exact same as when I don’t have my contacts in.  Everything was blurry as shit.  I continued my snail-like pace, my eyes concentrating simultaneously on the taillights of the cars ahead of me and the fuzzy, white dashes of the lane to my near left.  

I crept through the next red light and made a left.  Not far down the road, there it was.  We had made it.  I had never been so happy to see an Autozone in my entire fucking life.  We went inside, explained what had happened, bought two new windshield wipers, this time properly installed, and once again we were on our way.  

It stopped raining about 20 minutes later.

Looking back now, the whole situation was funny as hell.

Despite our little automotive dilemma, we still got to the NRG Center 15 minutes before Fandemic started.  I parked the car, turned off the ignition, and checked in with my Rooker Hooker friends online to let them know I made it.  Then I sat frozen in my seat.  

“I don’t think I can do this,” I told my friend.  My nerves were getting the best of me.  She assured me that I could, in fact, do this.  I had to do this.  I’m so glad she went with me.  I knew she wouldn’t let me back out of anything.  I made sure I had my things, took a deep breath and forced myself to get out of the car.

We made it inside the convention center, and a woman in a red Fandemic shirt directed us to the VIP ticket window.  (Every staff member we came across at Fandemic was absolutely awesome, by the way.  Even the C.E.O. was greeting every guest with a handshake and a hello as you entered through security.)

I went up to the window and handed over my paper tickets to exchange for our Rooker VIP badges.  While the worker scanned the tickets, I looked behind her to the table along the back wall.  It was covered from one end to the other with plastic bins.  Each bin was labeled by name and full of red VIP lanyards for each corresponding celebrity – Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Norman Reedus, Bruce Campbell, Tom Welling, etc.  

The lady finished scanning my tickets and turned to get our VIP badges from the bins.  Only there wasn’t a bin for Rooker.  She couldn’t find them.  I started to panic a little inside.  I mean it’s obvious I bought them.  I had the paper tickets as proof.  They were in her hand for Pete’s sake.  She looked down at the paper again and walked the length of the table for the second time.  Still no luck.  I really started to worry.  Of course, my initial thought is the ball is dropping again. First my windshield wipers, and now this.

I couldn't hear what she was saying behind the window, but her mouth was moving as I watched her hand my paper over to another worker.  This worker checked the paper, and they both walked over towards the middle of the table. There laying between two bins was a little Ziploc bag with Rooker’s name on it with maybe four or five VIP badges in it.  I turned to my friend, who had been out of eyesight of what just happened, stuck out my bottom lip and said, “Awww, my poor baby.  He only has a Ziploc bag of VIPs, and we have two of ‘em.”  I don’t know why, but it made me love him even more.

After a bag check and a wanding from security, we finally made it onto the convention floor.  I was one giant walking ball of nerves as we went through those doors.  I was in the same room as Michael Rooker!  On one hand, I couldn’t wait to see him.  On the other, I was afraid I was gonna faint and fall out on the floor right in front of all the Deadpools and Negans and Harley Quinns.  

We decided to bypass the vendors and headed straight to the autograph booths. Granted we were still a little early, so none of the celebs had made it to their tables yet.  Rooker’s booth was already filling up.  There were about 20 people or so already waiting.  My friend asked if I wanted to go ahead and get in line.  I couldn’t.  My feet wouldn’t move.  I wasn’t ready.  I had to see him first.  From afar.  Then maybe I’d get the courage to go talk to him.  

The whole time things were going down, I was checking in with my Rooker friends online, giving them play-by-plays of what was happening and taking their encouragement to heart.  I was gonna need it all.

My friend and I decided to walk around a little more and found ourselves standing near the back row of the autograph tables.  That’s when I saw celebs start to trickle through the curtain in the corner and head to their booths.  

Every time those red and black curtains moved, my heart stopped thinking it would be him.  Sean Gunn and Chris Sullivan came out together.  There went Sean Patrick Flanery.  And then Bruce Campbell.  I knew Rooker couldn’t be far behind.  

Minutes later, the curtains moved once more, and there he was.  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he walked the floor in front of me.  He wore his black leather jacket and blue sunglasses, a white v-neck t-shirt, his newest Penman hat and a giant smile on his face.  Somehow, I managed to stop my hands from shaking to take a few pics before he disappeared into his booth, his boisterous voice loud as he greeted his awaiting fans.

After my heart rate returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, we walked around towards the front of his booth.  We looked on from a distance as I stood there silently building up my confidence to go get in his line.  I told my online Rooker friends that I wasn’t sure I could do this.  They again told me I could.  I loved him too much not to, they said.  And they were right.  

I knew I needed to go get in line, but I just couldn’t take that first step.  But I had to do it.  I had come too far, and I had too many cool things to show him rather than stand there and stare at him like a creeper.  I had to jump off that cliff.  Take that plunge.  Just like ripping a Band-Aid off with the sweetest reward waiting for me right after.

One of the Fandemic workers near his booth was walking around with an inflatable pickle.  He told her he wanted to sign it.  He autographed the pickle, and as she walked away, he yelled out to her, “Don’t touch it for a little while.  It’s still wet!”  He knew exactly what he was doing, too.  He laughed and then did that little shit-eating grin while biting his tongue.  Y’all know which one I’m talking about.  Watching him laughing and joking around with everyone started to put my mind at ease. This is Rooker we’re talking about.  I’m gonna be fine.  So, I did it.  I put my big kid pants on and got in line.  

The line was moving fairly quickly, but I made sure to sneak some more pics while I waited.  I still couldn’t believe this was all real.  Seeing him right there, mere feet away from me.  Hearing that raspy voice in person.  It was almost too much.

When I got about eight people away, I pulled out his headshots from my bag.  I have several of Rooker’s old original headshots and resumes, and I couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was.  

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I was still a nervous wreck.  A million things raced through my brain.  What if I can’t talk when I get up there?  What if he doesn’t like me?  What if he thinks I’m weird?  Even worse, what if he thinks I’m a batshit crazy stalker ‘cause I have his old headshots?

Then the weirdest thing happened.  The closer I got to him, the less nervous I became.  By the time I made it in front of him at that table, it was like I was about to say “hey” to an old friend.  All the butterflies had flown away.  

One of his helpers had already taken the headshot from me that I wanted Rooker to autograph to keep the line running smoothly.  He handed it to Rooker and said, “Ohh, this is an oldie.”

Rooker greeted us as he took the headshot and he was like “Whoaaa” and smiled really big as I showed him the others.  He got a kick out of them!  He grabbed the oldest headshot, which was his first one, his hair super curly, and called over Sean Gunn and Chris Sullivan, who immediately left their tables to see what was going on.  They both promptly busted out laughing when Rooker showed them. They cracked some jokes together and then Rooker said, “That was my first headshot, this is my last.”  He walked over to me and showed me a pic of himself wearing no hat with his hair a FREAKIN’ mess on what I believe was Sean’s phone maybe, which in turn made him laugh even harder.  

He walked back over to Sean and Sully, where Sully had since pulled up his own old headshot on his phone.  Rooker busted out laughing again, and they compared their curly hair and then showed all the people in line their “white men afros” as Rooker put it.  

The whole time I felt like I was in a dream watching this all take place.  I mean I figured Rooker would think it was pretty cool seeing his old headshots and resumes, but I never thought it would have caused all this.  

He came back over to me and thanked me for bringing the headshots and picked up a blue marker to sign the one I had picked out for his autograph.

Up until then, had that been the end of our interaction, I would have walked away from his table completely ecstatic.  At that moment, I could have officially died happy.  But it wasn’t over yet.

As he was signing the headshot, I told him that I had something to show him and to pick an arm.  He looked a little perplexed and said, “Ummmm...your left.”

I sheepishly lifted up my shirt sleeve to show him my portrait tattoo of one of his Skillset magazine pictures.  He said, “OMG.....you know what that’s from, right?”  I kind of laughed and said, “Well, yeah.”  He said, “That’s from my Skillset!”  Then, I lifted up my right shirt sleeve to reveal my other Rooker portrait tattoo, this one a bald, serious-faced shot.  He glanced at it really quick and said, “Oh yeah, Thanos, very cool.”

I laughed and said, “It’s not Thanos, it’s you!”  I had to catch myself before I affectionately called him a dork at the end of that sentence.  He said, “What?!  Lemme see it again!”  I lifted my sleeve, and he said again that it looks like Thanos, totally fucking with me.  I said, “It’s not Thanos!  Why would I have Thanos?  You’re way hotter than Thanos!”  He chuckled and said “Well, yeah, I’m hotter than Thanos!  Fine, it’s a sexy Thanos.”  

He then walked around his table, grabbed my shoulders, spun me around, yanked my shirt sleeve back up and proceeded to ask the crowd, very loudly I might add, if my tattoo looked like “Sexy Thanos” all the while laughing his ass off.  Of course, the crowd agreed with him.  

I didn’t even have time to think about being embarrassed.  The next I thing knew, he turned back to me, smiled a huge Rooker smile, said I was awesome and reached out and caressed my face.  I about passed out.  

Rooker went back around his table to the headshots and started talking about his resumes stapled to the back.  We talked for a couple of minutes trying to figure out the timeline of the headshots vs. the resumes vs. the talent agency he was with at the time.    

The whole time he talked, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.  The way he smiled and chomped his gum, his eyes behind his blue sunglasses, his curls thick under his hat, his sexy voice, his chest hair poking out of the collar of his shirt.  He is absolutely hypnotic.  I was in heaven, y’all.  

He grabbed the curly-haired headshot, smiled and said, “You know what?  Just ‘cause you’re you, I’m gonna sign this one, too.  It’s a 2-for-1 Rooker deal.”  I, of course, was over the moon.

He signed it with the same blue marker and gave me a fist bump.  I told him thank you and that I would see him tomorrow and that I had something even cooler for him to sign.  He said, “Alright!”

I walked away on Cloud 9.  Michael Rooker touched my face!  I was freaking out.  I couldn’t have asked for a better first meeting with Rooker.  

A little while later, we were standing in line for the Rooker/Sean Gunn photo op when I realized that in the headshot/tattoo craziness earlier, I had forgotten to give Rooker the t-shirt I had brought as a gift for him.  I wasn’t mad at myself, though.  That just meant I got to go see him again.

When it came time for the photo op, Rooker came strutting over from his booth, grinning while biting his tongue in his teeth again.  The whole weekend I never saw the man without a smile on his face.

For those of you who've never been to a comic con before, the photo ops go by fast. Like insanely fast.  They shuffle you quickly into the booth, you stand next to the celeb, the photographer snaps the picture, and then you're shuffled back out just as fast as you came in.    

Now don’t take this the wrong way.  I'm not knocking the process by any means.  It's completely understandable.   There are literally hundreds of fans of many fandoms that they’re trying to accommodate.  But just because it goes fast, doesn’t mean you won’t have a memorable experience.

The Gunn/Rooker photo op was my very first one of the weekend.  When I got behind the curtain, Rooker immediately grabbed my arm, and pulled me between Sean and himself with a hearty “Get over here, woman!”  I put my arms around them both, the photo was snapped, Rooker smiled really big and said “Thank you, sweetheart” as I walked away, him keeping his hand on my back ‘til I was out of his arm's reach.  

The whole thing couldn’t have lasted for more than 45 seconds or so.  But I didn’t care.  Sean’s arm had been around my shoulder!  I had touched the Rooker leather jacket!  Rooker called me “sweetheart"!  He touched my back!  I was close enough to smell his minty-gum fresh breath!  The Rooker legend that he smells of mint and leather is true!  I couldn’t wait to do more ops with him.

After the photo ops, we headed over to the concession stand.  We hadn’t gotten a chance to eat lunch, and we were starving.  We got a little something to tide us over until dinner and went and sat down at a table in the little VIP reserved section.  Not five minutes later, my phone went off with my Merle Dixon notification sound.  It was an Instagram alert.  ROOKER WAS LIVE!

I’ve seen a lot of Rooker Instagram live videos from cons before, but to see one in the making?  No way I was gonna miss this!  We jumped up, grabbed our stuff, and were off on the hunt for him.  With the help of the Rooker Hookers directing me where to go, it didn’t take long to find him.  

For nearly 30 minutes, we followed him from a distance watching him visit vendor booths, stop to play in the Batmobile and interact with fans, ending with a giant selfie back at his booth.  

After the excitement of him Instagramming live died down and his line cleared a little, I decided to go give him his t-shirt.  The lady taking the money at his booth, who was super freakin’ nice by the way and who would come to know us quite well by the end of the weekend, greeted us again with a smile.

I walked up to him at his table and said, “I'm back, Rooker!"  He said, “Hey, Sexy!”  Rooker called me sexy.  I mean I'm totally not, but.. anyways.  I only hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt.  I said, “I forgot to give you this earlier,” and I handed him his shirt.  I told him where I was from as he unfolded the shirt and spread it out on the table.  One of my favorite things about Rooker is that he supports first responders and the armed forces.  Without going into too many details, I gave him a fire department shirt from my hometown, where he's filmed a couple of things and has visited even when not filming.  He said he loved my hometown and I explained to him that my stepdad is a police officer, and he had actually met Rooker years before on the set of one of his tv projects.  I told him that my mom is a 911 dispatcher for the fire department where the shirt was from and that I had tried to get him a police department shirt, too, but I couldn’t get one in time.  

He said he loved the shirt and we talked a couple more minutes and he told me to tell my parents thank you for all that they do.  Then he said, “You know what?  You get a selfie!”  He came around his booth, stood right next to me, and held his shirt out while my friend snapped some pics.  Again, I was over the moon.  I had already gotten an extra autograph earlier, and now Rooker was breaking his rule about “No selfies" at his table.  He then shook my hand and said thank you again and I told him I'd see him tomorrow.  You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

Like Rooker's old headshots, I also had one of Sean Gunn and Jeffrey Dean Morgan.  I had planned on getting Sean's autograph on Saturday, but since Rooker’s headshots had gone over so well earlier, I decided to go ahead and show Sean's to him then.  After running back out to the car to get his headshot, we were off to see Seanie.  

There wasn’t anyone at his table when we got back so I went right up to him with no hesitation, which was strange for me.   I hadn’t talked to Sean yet, and I figured I would be extremely nervous.  But just like Rooker, I was completely calm around Sean.  They all really do treat you like old friends.  

When I handed Sean the headshot, he got all excited, too.  Sully came over to look at it and busted out laughing and cracked some jokes about Sean's shirt.  Sean then hollered over at Rooker and held it up so Rooker could see.  Rooker said, “OMG!  You got one, too?!”  Sean talked to me a little about his resume, too, and then asked if he could take a picture of it with his phone.  Of course, I was like “Absolutely!”  After he got his picture of his headshot, he came around the table and took some selfies with me.  I then pulled out my phone and showed him my dog dressed as James Gunn from Halloween last year.  I asked him if remembered Gunn sharing the picture, but he didn’t.  I showed him my other dog dressed as Kraglin, too.  He loved it!  Especially his little mohawk.

We talked some more, and he kept saying how cool his headshot was and asked if I wanted him to sign it.  He ended up signing it “To my friend, *my name*, I ❤️this! Sean Gunn”.  Sean was an absolute sweetheart and I love him and I hope I get to see him again someday!

Chris Sullivan’s table was next.  I hadn’t really budgeted in anything for Sully, but he was only charging 30$ for a selfie, and I thought “Hey, you only live once.”  I’m so glad I did.  Sully was a complete teddy bear!  He was so sweet!  And talllll!  

We walked over, and I apologized for not having a headshot for him to sign.  He laughed and showed us his headshot on his phone again.  Then he realized he hadn’t introduced himself and stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Chris.”  I shook his hand and told him my name, and then my friend did the same.  My friend and I have the same name only with different spellings.  Once introductions were made, Sully spent the next few minutes hilariously trying to figure out the correct spelling of my name.  He never did get it right.  I haven’t really seen a lot of Sully's roles, but he gained a lifelong fan that day.

After meeting Sean and Sully, we decided to call it a day.  I couldn’t wait to see what day two had in store.

Fandemic Houston Day 2 – September 15, 2018

Just like the morning before, I was already awake when my alarm went off.  I had a reeeeally cool thing to show Rooker, and the anticipation was damn near killing me.  

We had to get to the convention center fairly early that morning.  Rooker's panel was at 11:30 a.m., and I was hoping to get to visit him before his panel started.  When we got to his booth, however, he wasn't scheduled to be at his table until after his panel.  So, we just walked around a little until it was time to go upstairs to the panel room.

With our Rooker VIPs, we got really good seats at his panel.  We were close to the stage, even though I knew he wouldn't be up there long.  

While we waited for his panel to start, I was in a bit of a panic.  If you’ve ever seen or been to a con panel, you know that usually the Q&A session is done by fans lining up at a microphone to ask their questions to the celebs on stage.  If you’ve ever seen or been to a Rooker panel, you know he doesn’t play by those rules.  He comes to you, whether you have a question or not!  I was sitting on the end of the aisle, a prime position for Rooker to stop and talk to me during the Q&A.  And I had no idea what I would ask him if he did.

I checked in with the Rooker Hookers online and asked them for any help they could give me to come up with a good question.  It wasn't that I was nervous to ask Rooker a question, it was just I didn’t want to ask him one in front of all these people.  If I was prepared, I wouldn’t be as embarrassed.

The Rooker Hookers all had really good suggestions, but some of them involving Rooker removing various articles of clothing, propositions more suited for an “after-dark" kind of Q&A.  I love those guys.  That's another one of my favorite things about Rooker.  Being a part of his fandom has brought me together with people literally all over the world via Tumblr and Facebook.  And everyone I’ve met has been awesome.  And a special shout out to the Rooker Hookers for making me laugh over and over again, understanding my complete and utter Rooker obsession, for accepting me for who I am and being there for me even when we’re not talking about Rooker.  I’m proud to call them my friends.

Rooker's panel was awesome as I knew it would be.  He talked a lot about Henry and Merle.  He ran around the audience answering questions about Yondu and Mallrats and flexed his biceps and even sang a little.  My favorite, though, were his stories of what he was like as a kid and growing up in Chicago.  At the end of his panel, he broke the rules once again and threw Hershey Kisses out to the audience after the powers that be told him not to throw anything.  They shoulda known Rooker plays by his own rules.  He is a livewire and an endless fireball of energy.  He’s an absolute riot, and I'm so thankful I got to witness him in action at a panel.  

When the panel was over and once we made it back through the security checkpoint, we headed back to Rooker's booth.  I was so freaking excited to show him what I was holding in my hands.  

His helper said hello and hole-punched my VIP lanyard for another autograph.  I walked up to Rooker and said, “I'm back, Rooker, look what I got.”  I sat down his screen worn Bud Melks orange coveralls from The Belko Experiment on the table.  He said, “Oh, honey, let me sign those for you.”  He didn’t realize they were his.  I said, “These are the ones you wore in the movie.”  

“These are the ones I wore in the movie?”  He seemed genuinely surprised.  I told him yep and showed him the little nametag on the inside collar that read “Bud 2”.  He said, “Omg, that’s so cool, where did you get these?”  I explained to him where I got them and that it also came with his t-shirt, jeans, and boots, too.  He asked if I wanted him to sign them.  I did, but it would be even better if I got him to put them on.

“Yeah, if you want to.   Orrrr, you could cosplay as Bud today,” I joked.

He chuckled. “I could cosplay as Bud today?  Ommgg.  Yeah, I could.  Or you could cosplay as Bud.”  

I shook my head no and grinned.  “Nooo, I don’t cosplay,” I replied.  (I’m waaay too shy and self-conscious to cosplay.)

He leaned back on his stool, threw his head back and laughed.  Rooker's laugh is one of my favorite things on this planet.  And making him laugh was one of the greatest feelings in the world.    

About that time, Sean's helper came over and took a picture of Rooker holding the coveralls up.  She thought they were really cool, too.  Rooker asked her, “Where's, Sean?  He's gotta see these.”  But Sean was still in the green room.  

The coveralls have a huge rip on the backside so of course I had to know why.  I was kidding around with Rooker and asked him, “What did you to ‘em?”  He said, “Let's see,” as he unfolded them.

When he found the rip, he said, “Oh, oh, I squatted, and they ripped.  Yeah, I squatted down, and they ripped.  Like, when I was squatting down doing the door, they ripped.  My whole bottom ripped out.  And I was like, ‘Thank God the camera was on my face ‘cause if it was on my ass end my underwears would be showing.”  We all burst into laughter.  

We chatted a little bit more and he asked me again if I wanted him to sign them.  I told him, “If you want to, yeah.”  

“Where do you want me to put it?   I’m gonna sign ‘em for you.  You don’t have to pay, ok?”

I told him that I had already paid, though.  He said, ”Oh, it was part of your VIP?” We then decided the best place for him to sign the coveralls was on the front pocket.  He signed his name and said, “Bud, right?”  I told him yes it was Bud, and he wrote Bud under his signature.  Then he asked his helper to hand him the 8X10 of Bud he had available for autographs.  

“Do we have one?  Gimme that photo of Belko.  I’m gonna give her a photo with this.  This totally deserves a photo with this."  

He took the photo and started signing his name.  

“Here, all yours, baby.  Here, I'm gonna put it like this.”  He signed the pocket on Bud's coveralls in the picture the same exact way he signed the coveralls.  He then held the picture next to the coveralls and said, “There, looks just like it."  He busted out laughing and said, “That's for you.  Thank you, honey.  Oh my goodness.”  He threw his hand up for a high-five.  I thanked him and high-fived him back.

Trust me, I was elated for the handshakes and high-fives so far.  (His hands are so soft by the way).  But I was itching to get a hug.  I didn’t know how many more chances I would get so I decided to just go for it. “Can I get a hug, Rooker?  I gotta get a famous Rooker hug.”  He hollered, “Get over here woman!  Get over here!  Give me a big hug, love.”

I walked behind his table and gave him a big hug and told him I'd see him later.  He grabbed my hand as I walked away and said, “You're awesome, honey!”  He didn’t let go of my hand as I told him that he makes me forget things and that I had another present for him but I had forgotten it in my car.  He laughed and then he caught my friend recording the whole thing on her phone.  He grinned and said, “Heyyyy, no video…”  Busted.  But he didn’t care.

After leaving Rooker, we had just enough time to scarf down some lunch and then head to Sean and Sully’s panel.  When the panel started, the doors opened and there they were waiting on the other side.  They had stolen a golf cart and hilariously failed at trying to drive it into the room for their grand entrance.  So, Sully simply threw the golf cart in reverse, they both said “byyyyye” and he drove back down the hallway.  A few seconds later they both came back in the room, Sully at a sprint which carried him around the entire audience and Sean walking slowly behind to the stage, announcing he was too old to run.  Sully ended his dash with a Rooker-esque roll onto the stage, stood up and took a bow.  

Their panel was amazing, too.  They were both so, so funny.  They talked a lot about Guardians and even threw in the story about Rooker mooning Dave and Pom on set, which led Sully into a comical conversation about mooning in general.  They made me laugh so freakin’ hard.  If you ever get the chance, definitely go to their panels.  You won’t be disappointed.

We had planned on going to the Smallville panel a little later, but the line getting in the room was insane.  I used to watch Smallville back in the day, but I had no idea how huge the fandom still is.  It was pretty impressive.  Because of the crowd, we decided to skip the panel and go see Rooker again.  

We ran out to the car to get Rooker’s gift and then headed to his booth.  I also made sure to bring the Belko coveralls again so Rooker could show Sean.  I guess everyone was at the Smallville panel because the con floor was pretty empty.  I was kind of glad.  Hopefully, that meant I’d get to talk to Rooker for a good bit of time.

When we got there, his helper laughed and said, “You’re back, again?  And with another gift?”  I smiled and said yes.  She joked, “You gotta stop buying him shit.  He’s doing alright, you know.” I joked back, “I know, but I love him.”  She understood though.  I mean how can you not love Rooker?

About that time the fan talking with Rooker walked away, and I stepped up to him at the table.  His helper announced to him, “She's back with another gift.  She's like your sugar mama.”  Rooker grinned that sexy Rooker grin and said, “Hey, Sugar Mama!” I joked, “Yeah, I’ll be your sugar mama.  What you want?  Anything?  You need some more coffee?  I’ll go get you some coffee.”   He busted out laughing, and I handed him his gift.

I had gotten him a blue shot glass made from a 30mm shell casing that had been shot from an A-10 Warthog plane.  I had it engraved with Michael “Yondu” Rooker on the side.  I’m pretty sure he loved it!  I had left it in the clear packaging, and he immediately ripped it open and lowered his glasses so he could read it better.  I...saw...his...eyes...y’all.  In person.  Not hidden behind sunglasses.  Don’t laugh.  It was a very big moment for me.  

He leaned over towards me on the table on his elbows and kept saying how cool the shot glass was and how he couldn’t wait to drink some whiskey out of it.  He asked me how much whiskey I thought it would hold.  I laughed and said I have no idea.  

We talked some more and he thanked me and came around the table to give me another hug, this time trying to include my friend.  She sort of backed away trying to give me all the glory of Rooker’s hug, but he pulled her in anyway.  It was somewhat of an awkward, sideways hug, but I didn’t care.  A Rooker hug is a Rooker hug!  His arm ended up kind of across my neck right under my chin so I reached up and grabbed his arm as I hugged him.  I...touched...his...bicep.  It was..um..very nice.

When he pulled away from me, Sully walked over holding up an 8X10 of what I believe was of himself that someone had written on and showed it to Rooker.  When Rooker read it he about fell on the floor laughing.  He said, “Now, now, that’s nothing to be ashamed of!”  He snatched the picture out of Sully’s hand and laid it on Sean’s table and began writing on it, too, laughing the whole time.  Rooker’s helper asked if we had seen what was written on it.  I had been trying not to be nosy, so I hadn’t.  We told her no, and she said, “It said ‘When is the right time to talk to your doctor about erectile dysfunction.”  My friend and I started laughing.

I turned back to Sean’s table, and Rooker was still writing on the picture saying, “There’s nothing wrong with erectile dysfunction!”  Sean and I made eye contact and busted out laughing.  Rooker then turned and walked back towards me with a huge grin, looked me right in the eye, and said, “There’s nothing wrong with a little erectile dysfunction...well, I mean there is something wrong with it, but...” He trailed off into a mischievous giggle.  Y’all, I had never laughed so hard in my life.  

When he realized I was holding the Belko coveralls, he immediately took them from me and whirled around to show Sean.  “Sean, look what she has!”  Sean came around his table and said, “Whoaaa, are those the real ones?”  Rooker told him yes and explained how I got them and then held them up to show Sean the big rip in the back which made Sean laugh.  Sean thought they were really neat, too.

Rooker came back over to me and was folding the coveralls up and said, “These are really beautiful.  You know, not a lot of these exist.  Thank you for bringing them to show me.”  I told him they were my prized possession (which is the truth... they really are the coolest thing I own).  He said, “C’mere, baby, you get a double hug!”  He gave me another huge hug, this one a little longer than the first, and a little bit of my hair got caught in his scruff as I pulled away.  I’m sure he didn’t even notice, but I certainly did.  That scruff...

We walked back over to his table so I could get my bag.  I had made a little drawstring bag specifically to wear at Fandemic to haul stuff around in.  It says “I’m lost.  If found, please return to Michael Rooker”.   I showed it to him and he laughed really hard and gave me a high-five and said, “I love it!  You’re so great.”  We then said our goodbyes for the moment and off I went again.

That afternoon I had my Dixon Bros. photo op.  While we were waiting in line, Rooker came over to the Photo Ops area and saw a family with a little baby boy in a stroller nearby.  He made a beeline straight to the baby.  The little boy pointed up to the ceiling and blabbered away at Rooker.  Rooker looked up to the ceiling, too, and said, “OoooOooh,” and acted surprised at whatever imaginary thing the baby was pointing at.  Rooker then baby-talked to him for a minute and tickled the little boy’s tummy before he left to go behind the curtain.  Y’all, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed. 

When it came time for photos, as soon as I got behind the curtain, Rooker said, “Get over here, baby,” and again grabbed my arm and pulled me in between him and Norman Reedus.  When I went to put my arms around them, my arm got caught on the bottom of Rooker's jacket, and I accidentally lifted it up about a third up his back.  I heard him make this little chuckling sound as I fumbled to free my arm from underneath his jacket, my hand unintentionally rubbing his back.  I’m not sure he knew what I was going for because the next thing I knew, he started rubbing my back.  For the entire time.  Even after the photo was taken and I was walking away, his hand was still rubbing on my back.  Let me tell you, a Rooker backrub is everything you would imagine it to be, but at that moment, I was just a tad embarrassed.  And my face in the photo pretty much showed it.  But, oh well.  If that was the only way I was ever going to get a Rooker backrub then it was worth it.

After the Dixon Bros. photo op, I went to go see Michael Rosenbaum who was super nice, too.  I paid for a selfie, and he said, “Ohh, lemme take it!”  I handed my phone over to him for what I thought would be just one picture.  He wouldn’t stop taking pictures of us though, and one picture turned into a comical mini-photo shoot.  Each time I thought it would be the last picture he would take so my facial expression changes to a higher state of silliness with each one.  They’re hilarious, but let’s just say very few people have seen those pictures.

Day two was drawing to a close, and I decided that I might go see Rooker one more time before we left.  We walked over to his booth which was empty at the moment.  He was standing there eating chocolate covered pretzels and watching an artist drawing portraits of Harry Potter characters across the way.  Anyone that knows Rooker knew what he was about to do next.  

Rooker left so fast from his booth that he dropped a pretzel on the ground.  He went directly over to the artist and asked him to play Santana over his speaker, jokingly rushing him along when the artist couldn’t find a Santana song quick enough.  Rooker then grabbed a colored pencil and began to draw on the picture the artist had been working on.  

Rooker messed around with the artist a couple more minutes before he returned to his booth.  He took the time to take a few pictures with some fans that had gathered around, joked with the little kids, and danced to the songs the artist was still playing before he finally left for the day.  I didn’t get to talk to him again, but just watching him dancing was enough for me.

When we were headed back to the car that afternoon, I told my friend, “I can’t remember ever being this happy before.  Seriously, these last two days have been the best days of my life.”  I’m like a lot of people in that I struggle with depression and anxiety and self-image and the feeling that I’ll never be good enough.  But with Rooker, he makes all that disappear.  I don’t think he’ll ever realize how much he means to me and how important he is in my life.  

Fandemic Houston Day 3 – September 16, 2018

I had been awake since 4 a.m. on day three.  I couldn’t wait to see Rooker, but I couldn’t stop thinking that this was going to be my last day with him.  I didn’t want the weekend to end.

I spent the early morning hours before my alarm rang making a detailed schedule and an even more detailed script in my head of all the things I wanted to say to him before the con closed at 4 p.m.  I still had my two solo photo ops with him, too, and one last gift to give him.  More importantly, I wanted to make sure I got the chance to tell him thank you and goodbye before I left.   And I had to fit it all in between getting my Jeffrey Dean Morgan autograph and photo op.

It was about 10:15 a.m. when we got to the NRG center that morning.  I was hoping I'd get to talk to Rooker first thing.  I had one last picture for him to sign, which had something to do with a special request for our photo op.  He wasn’t at his booth when we finally got inside, though, so I decided to get in Jeffrey Dean’s line to get his autograph about 10:30 a.m.  

A fairly big crowd had already gathered for Jeffrey Dean.  But my Rooker photo ops weren’t until 1 p.m. and my Jeffrey Dean op was at 2:10 p.m.  I figured I would have plenty of time to see Rooker before our photo ops.  

We were again standing in the perfect spot to watch all the celebs come out from behind the curtain.  A little after 11 a.m. they all started to trickle out.  And, y’all, when Rooker finally walked out?  Dayuuumm, daddy.  He wasn’t sporting his usual leather jacket paired with a black or navy or white v-neck t-shirt look.  He wore a black button-up shirt with the collar unbuttoned low and looked sexy...as…hell.  I mean the man always looks sexy as hell, but...well, y’all know what I mean.  I immediately checked in with the Rooker Hookers and told them Rooker’s wardrobe choice for the day.  Again, don’t laugh.  I just get excited when he switches things up.  

We were still waiting in Jeffrey Dean's line when they made a huge announcement around 11:30 a.m.  Norman Reedus had to leave the con early.  All the Walking Dead photo ops had to be bumped up.  I started to panic a little.  

My Jeffrey Dean photo stayed at 2:10 p.m., but Rooker and Norman were supposed to have Dixon Bros. photo ops at 3:25 p.m.  The con closed at 4 p.m. so I figured Rooker would probably be leaving right after.  But I had to tell Rooker goodbye before we left.  I just had to.  Now I was afraid with all the photo ops being bumped around I wouldn’t get to.

Noon came and Jeffrey Dean's line had hardly moved.  He had only been out at his table for maybe 45 minutes or so and now his time would be even more limited because the photo ops had to be moved up.  His line was so long that they ended up bumping the people who had pre-purchased an autograph up in line. That included me.  Whew.  We had gotten closer but were still so far away.  The minutes were counting down until my Rooker photo ops.  I was a nervous wreck.  If I stayed in Jeffrey Dean's line, I would be cutting it reaaaally close.  

I left my friend in line and went to explain my situation to one of the Fandemic workers nearby.  I told him I had Rooker photo ops at 1 p.m. and if I didn’t make it up to Jeffrey Dean would I be able to get a refund for his autograph.  I didn’t want to get a refund.  I love Jeffrey Dean and had been looking forward to meeting him and getting his autograph.  But I couldn’t miss my Rooker photo ops.  That was completely out of the question.  The worker looked at his watch and told me that I would make it, but if it got too close, he would move me up in line.  That made me feel a little better.  

I got back in line, but I couldn’t stop checking my phone for the time.  I really needed to show Rooker the picture I wanted him to autograph before our photo ops.  The minutes were ticking away and the line was barely moving.  Finally, about 12:30 p.m., I left my friend again in line and went to go see Rooker.

I went over to Rooker's table and paid his helper for another autograph.  She asked if I wanted to pick out a picture, but I told her I already had one.  She said, “Ooh, can I see?”  I showed her and told her it was my all-time favorite picture of Rooker, and I was hoping I could get him to do the same pose for our photo op.  She loved it and told me that he had done a similar pose the day before.  Aaah, there was a chance.

I walked up to Rooker holding the picture against me so he couldn’t see it right away.  I asked him, “Will you sign one more thing for me?  I was also wondering if you’d reenact it for our photo op today.”  He just grinned and said, “It depends.  Lemme see it.”  At that moment, I was so glad there wasn’t anyone else around.  I had no idea what his reaction would be.

I told him it was my all-time favorite picture of him and handed it over.  He instantly busted out laughing when he saw what it was.  In the picture Rooker has his shirt lifted, one hand pointing to his nipple and a ginormous smile on his face.  He asked me where I even got it.  I told him I found it on the internet.  I reminded him about one of the Rooker Hookers meeting him and having him sign his naked ass from Mallrats.  He laughed and said he remembered that.  “I’m just carrying on the tradition of having you sign off the wall pictures,” I said.  

He told me that he doesn’t normally sign pictures like that, but for me, he would.  While he signed it, I told him that I had two photo ops with him and that they couldn’t be the same and asked him again if he would do that same pose for one of them.  He laughed and said no.  Then he took off his glasses completely to look at the picture more closely.  I...saw...his...eyes again for a long time.  He was trying to remember where the picture was taken and what the hell he was doing.  He said the glasses he was wearing were his old ones and that he didn’t have them anymore and the shirt he had on was his old Harley Davidson shirt.  I was too embarrassed to tell him I knew the picture was taken at James Gunn’s old house.  I was afraid yet again that he would think I was a batshit crazy stalker.  

We talked about the picture a little more and then he looked up at me laughing and said, “You dork.”  Rooker called me dork.  Out of all the things he called me that weekend “dork” was definitely my favorite.  I begged him one more time to do that pose for our photo.  He just laughed and shook his head and said, “No.” again.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get to talk to him very much longer because I had to hurry to get back in line for Jeffrey Dean so I told Rooker I’d see him later.

My friend hadn’t made it very far when I joined her back in line.  By then it was pushing 12:40 p.m.  I was starting to get nervous again.  I only had 20 minutes left until Rooker photos, and the line was...moving...so...slow.  

About 12:55 p.m., there were only three people ahead of me in line.  Jeffrey Dean was right there.  Surely I would make it in time.  He finished visiting with the fan he was talking to, and I heard him tell one of his handlers that he needed to take a break.  Uh oh.  Panic mode.  I went up to his other handler and explained that I had Rooker photo ops at 1:00 p.m. which was in three minutes.  She said, “Ok, no problem.”  She went up to Jeffrey Dean and told him my dilemma.  I felt horrible cutting in line, but I got to meet him real quick before he went on his break.  

He gave me a huge hug when I went up to him.  (Jeffrey Dean gives amazing hugs by the way and is one of the nicest human beings I’ve ever met.  Annnnd even sexier...as...hell in person).  I handed him the headshot I had of him and he said, “Oh, fuuuuck, this is awesome!”   I said, “You were a baby.  Lookit you.”  He said, “I was a baby!”  He then turned it over to look at his resume, and was like “Whooa, this is a loooong time ago!  You know awhile back when everyone was sharing their first headshots for “Headshot Day” on Instagram and shit, I didn’t have one.  I shoulda called you.”  That would be the dream I thought.  I snickered and said, “Uh, yeaaah, you totally could have called me!”  He laughed and we talked some more about his headshot.  Then he asked me if I wanted him to sign it to me or just with his name.  I told him that he could put my name if he wanted and he personalized his autograph for me.  I told him “thank you” and he said, “Oh, you’re very welcome and it’s nice to meet you.” He gave me another huge, extra-tight hug, and said, “Tell Rooker I said ‘hey’,” as I told him bye.  Gahhh, I’m still gushing over Jeffrey Dean, too!

After I left Jeffrey Dean, we booked it over to the photo op line.  We were a few minutes late, but luckily Rooker hadn’t made it over there yet so the photo ops hadn’t actually started.  A few minutes later Rooker came over and went behind the curtain.  He was holding some sort of arrow thingy? With a bullet on the end?  I still have no idea what it was.

When I got behind the curtain for our photos, Rooker pulled me to him and I put my arm around his lower back right above his waist.  His shirt was so silky, and I could feel his lil’ love handles. Swoon.  He put his arm over my shoulder and kind of threw his head back with a smug look on his face for the first photo.  The Rooker Hookers say it was his “Yeah, this is my Sugar Mama” pose.  I’m not sure if that’s what he was going for, but I like that idea.

After the photographer took the first photo, Rooker went to tell me thank you like he had done the previous days.  I told him though that I had two photo ops.  (I had told my friend that if she would go with me to Fandemic I would buy all the tickets, and she didn’t want to take any pictures so I used the photo op that came with her VIP ticket).  He said, “Oh, you have two?”  I shook my head yes and replied, “What are we gonna do, Rooker?  They can’t be the same.”  He looked at me, thinking for a second, and then grabbed my necklace.  I have a necklace with a little silver bullet on it (or I did...it broke like two weeks after Fandemic.)  He held the bullet in his fingers and said, “You show off your bullet, I’ll show mine,” meaning the little arrow thingy he was holding.  So, I held up the bullet on my necklace and he held out the arrow thing for the second picture.  I personally never would have thought up that pose, but it made him laugh and that’s all that mattered to me.  And I got another short bonus Rooker backrub as we said goodbye.  

A little while later, I had my photo op with Jeffrey Dean.  He gave me a big hug for our picture.  I’m horrible at taking pictures, but that one actually turned out the best out of all the ops I had that weekend.

After Jeffrey Dean, it was pretty much time to go.  As much as I didn’t want to, it was time to go see Rooker for the last time and tell him goodbye.  

Rooker had an 8X10 of Sean as Kraglin and was drawing various funny things all over Sean’s face while casually talking to a fan who I’m assuming had met him before when we got to his table.  I wasn’t trying to be nosy I promise, but I could hear a little of what they were talking about.  At one point, the guy mentioned Rooker’s hair and how much he had grown it out.  He asked him if it was for a specific reason, like for a movie or something.  Rooker told the guy that his granddaughter had actually asked him to grow his hair out so he would have long, pretty hair like her.  My heart = melted.  He then said that it wasn’t working.  It was making him worse.  You’re wrong, Rooker.  Seriously, I don’t think you can get any more perfect.

While Rooker was still diligently drawing on Sean’s picture and talking to the fan, another guy walked up and asked his handler if Rooker was in Cliffhanger.  The handler said yes.  The guy said, “Oh man, I knew it!  I can still hear your voice!  Like when your lady fell in the beginning.”  Without even looking up, Rooker said, “That fuckin’ bitch!  I knew what she was doing up there with Stallone!” and then laughed.  

When it was my turn, I went up to him and asked, “Are you sick of me yet?”  He said, “Noooo.”  I told him I had one last thing to give him, and it was kind of a dumb one, but all my friends told me I had to give it to him.  I said, “Do you remember when James called you Winnie the Pooh in that one post?”  He said, “Yeah.”  I plopped down a little stuffed Pooh Bear in front of him on the table.  Pooh was dressed in black and white prison stripes with a ball and chain on his leg.  The patch on his shirt said “Prisoner of Love".  Rooker laughed and said, “Aww, this is for me?”  I told him yes, and that I knew it was kinda stupid and I don't normally go around giving grown men stuffed animals.  “You're actually the only grown man I've ever given a stuffed animal to,” I said to him.  He laughed again, and said, “Well, I actually love stuffed animals.”

He immediately took the tag off of Pooh's ear and then held him up towards one of his helpers and the couple of people in line at the end of the table and made Pooh “growl" at them.  He then turned to the handler standing right next to him, shoved the little bear right in the guy’s face and made Pooh wave and said, “Fuck you, bitch!” in a goofy, high-pitched voice.  

He made himself laugh, that silent kind of Rooker laugh where his head is thrown back and his mouth is wide open, his whole face lit up, and came around his table to give me a hug.  Then....it happened.  The single greatest moment of my life.  

With his smile never fading, he grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me on the cheek, an added “mwah” for sound effect.  

Time froze.  I could feel his fingers in my hair.   His scruff rough against my face.  I couldn’t believe what was happening.  My brain ceased to function properly, and I went into survival mode, struggling to simply form words.

As soon as it happened, my brain took that script that I had made up in my mind early that morning, ripped it up into a thousand little pieces, tossed them in the air, and screamed, “Haha, time to improv, bitch!”  I could no longer remember a single thing that I had wanted to talk to him about.

I was stunned.  I was in a daze.  For the first time that entire weekend I was speechless.  

My friend chimed in very quickly to save me.  “You should show him your dogs!”  As he still stood next to me, he said, “Oh, you have dogs?!”  He sounded way more excited than I would have thought he’d be to see my dogs.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.  But Rooker had broken my brain.  I was in auto-pilot mode, and I was forgetting a major detail.  

It wasn’t until I hit the home button to turn my phone on that I remembered one of Rooker’s Skillset photos is my lock screen and a picture of him laughing on the set of Brother’s Keeper is my home screen.  OMG!!!  

I freaked out a little and playfully pushed him away.  “Oh, don’t look at my phone, Rooker!  You’re on it!”  It was too late.  He had already seen it.  He backed away laughing and said, “Oooh, girl, you makin’ me look sexxxy!”  I’m sure my face was red as a tomato at that moment.

My Instagram account was the quickest way to get to pictures of my dogs, so I pulled up the app.  Rooker was so close to me.  We were standing shoulder to shoulder, our arms were touching, him looking at my phone the entire time.  It didn’t occur to me until much later that I know he saw everything on my Instagram:  my IG name which is basically the same as my Tumblr, my icon which is him, my description that says I’m obsessed with him, the memes I’ve made of him.  

I opened up the picture of my dog as James Gunn.  Rooker pulled down his sunglasses to look.  He didn’t remember Gunn sharing that picture either last Halloween, but he did say Bruce was a beautiful dog.  Then I showed him the “Rooker vs. Rooker: Grumpface Edition” meme I had made of Rooker and my dog.  I pointed to my dog and said, “That’s Rooker.”  He turned and looked right at me.  A few seconds after we made eye contact, he busted out laughing.  It was my favorite kind of Rooker laugh, the Rooker laugh where he’s trying so hard not to laugh and is grinning but holding his mouth closed until he can’t take it anymore and just lets it go.  Rooker loved my dog.  He said, “Omg!”, gave me a fist bump, then grabbed my phone, walked over to his handler and shoved my phone in his face to show him.    

When Rooker handed me my phone back, he hugged me again and then held up his hands for a double high-five.  I high-fived him, but this time he didn’t let my hands go.  He let our hands fall down together, our fingers interlocked.  He kept them that way the whole time I talked to him.  I never wanted that moment to end.  

I then told him that we had to get back on the road to Louisiana, and I just wanted to tell him goodbye before we left.  I said, “Thank you, Rooker.  For everything.  For putting up with me all weekend.  This has seriously been the best three days of my life.”  He held out his arms and said, “Awww, c’mere, baby.”  He hugged me again, and I laid my head against his chest.  It was the longest and the tightest hug he had given me so far, and I made sure to pay attention to every little detail:  the cool, silky feel of his shirt on my face, the smell of mint, the way his back felt under my hands.  I could have stayed there forever.  When we finally let go, he said, “Thank you for coming to see me.  Y’all drive safe,” and we said goodbye.

And with that, I walked away.  It was over.  Our “see you tomorrows" had become our final goodbye.  It was all so bittersweet leaving through those convention doors for the last time.  Over three days, Rooker had high-fived me, fist bumped me, called me pet names, held my hands, hugged and kissed me.  I had made him laugh more than once.  He had made me melt 100 times over.  I know I was lucky to have had such an amazing experience with him, and I couldn’t have been happier.  But knowing that there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow with him made me terribly…sad.

I had spent almost a year saving for Fandemic.  It wasn’t cheap, but I had done a lot of photo ops and gotten a lot of autographs and had the time of my life.  I had justified spending so much money by telling myself that this was more than likely a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I’d probably never get to see Rooker again.  After that weekend, I knew I couldn’t let that happen.  I've already started saving for my next con.  That man means the world to me, and I don’t know where or when (hopefully sometime really soon), but I have to go see him again.

So that’s it.  For the ones that made it this far, that's the story of my little Fandemic adventure, my getting “Rookered" for the very first time, the best three days of my life.  Michael Rooker is the most humble, nicest, most generous, funniest, silliest, best hugs in the world givin’, sweetest person I’ve ever met.  He’s charming as hell, not to mention the sexiest man alive.  There’s a reason he’s my favorite person on earth.  There are not enough words to describe how much I love that man, and I truly hope everyone gets to meet him someday.  

The end.

And, p.s., my new windshield wipers are still going strong 😜.

#michael rooker #rooker #fandemic houston #fandemic #I got rookered

[leggigoesabroad]

we were staying in paris to get away from our parents

Lyric from “Paris” by the Chainsmokers.  We (Rach and I) used to love the Chainsmokers until we found out they were trash humans who cheated on their girlfriends with no remorse, and instead we’ve followed the ex-girlfriends loyally since the breakups.  Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CARY!! It’s 11:23 am here in Paris on Cinco de Mayberger and I wish I was in Philly holding that muffin and celebrating our girl, but hopefully I can be soon.  

I really shouldn’t be blogging right now because I’m sitting in a super cool cafe that is meant for working and co-working and I’m paying to be here, so I shouldn’t waste my paid time on blogging... but hey, I’m waiting for my Adderall to kick in and also I think this is the coolest concept ever.  It’s a super cozy space and you pay for the length of time you’re here.  It’s a little expensive but I have no sense of responsibility anymore.  It’s 5 euro an hour and that gets you access to the wifi, convenient plugs everywhere, and an all-inclusive self-serve tea and coffee bar.  I think it’s kind of genius!!  There’s snacks, bread, nutella, all kinds of tea, coffee, etc.  Takes away all the stress of posting up at a coffee shop for hours and wondering how much you need to buy to make yourself feel okay about using their space all day.  Kitty and I are personally very passionate about rental businesses/unlimited concepts like this, and I’m making a mental note to tell her about this so we can open one at home.  There’s a chance Americans wouldn’t go for it, but I think at the right price it’d be dope.  Of course, it basically reminds me of a bottomless brunch, and I’m pre-panicked I won’t get my money’s worth.  What if we served mimosas at our place, Kitty?!  Interesting.  I wish it wasn’t 3:30 am in Breck right now so we could discuss this.  

Last I left off I was on the train to Paris.  Vienna and Prague genuinely feel like years ago.  Such a weird trip, start to finish.  Not the kind I’d design on my own, but not NOT... just odd to be here mostly alone without a plan and kind of figuring it out as I go.  Not my style.  I got into Gare de L’est in Paris and figured out the Metro to Angie and Adam’s place around 7 pm.  Their 7-month-old is very French and goes to bed around 9:30 pm, so we bonded right away and she instantly took to me.  They tell me she’s mostly like that with all strangers, but I feel I’m special to her.  She cries when I leave the room!!  I had to sneak out to the cafe this morning because she was bawling when I went to my room after saying good morning to her.  Sweet angel.  Her name is “Thea” but they exclusively call her “Doodle” and it reminds me of our muff.  We ended up just hanging out all night on their couch and catching up, and then they got some pizzas and pasta from the place across the street for dinner and I ate All Of It.  The French don’t fuck around with their food (she says, shoving a shortbread cake coated in Nutella in her mouth between keystrokes.)  Had a bottle of wine and we stayed up until 1 am or so, just so lovely.

I woke up Saturday morning and braved what was admittedly freezing rain to walk to the local bakery Angie suggested.  Since they live right next to the Luxembourg Gardens I also popped in there, as it reminds me of the photo Amy and I took sitting on the fountain mirroring each other, back in January 2011.  I captioned it “The City of Love and Weight Gain” and steel trap Amanda remembered that ever since and recently posted a pic with the same caption, smh, she’s incredible.  Learned on this morning walk that my right black boot had worn through the sole, so my foot got soaked and I felt that “squidge squidge” with each step... so fun.  Went to the bakery and had a panic attack leading up to the order as I rehearsed what I was going to say in my head a million times over.  Eventually spit out “Je voudrais... trois croissants....deux pain au chocolat... et un baguette....s’il vois plait....” and to the girl’s credit, she didn’t immediately transfer to English upon hearing how painfully transparently American I sounded, and gave me the total in French!  I obviously had blacked out and couldn’t hear her, but the total was displayed on the cash register, so I paid and survived.

After lazing around a bit the rest of the morning, we all packed up and went across town to a Scottish bar that was playing the Tottenham game that Adam was interested in.  I love sports so I was happy to go, but man, soccer is dumb.  At one point one guy got a red card for lightly shoving a player after the play, and I almost burst out laughing at how that move disqualified him from that game and the next game, whereas in hockey that’s literally encouraged and we tally how many hits per game a player has.  Our friend Aaron came to join us!!  So good to see him, I think the last time I saw him was December 2016 right after I had moved to Denver and he was passing through town.  I remember specifically because I showed him my apartment, that first one in Uptown next to Kitty, and it was completely empty.  Back when I glamped all day.  He’s near fluent in French now and I find it attractive.  

We all went to an ex-pat bar after that and met up with Adam’s English co-worker and her friend who I found enchanting.  They’re both from Brighton and were just lovely, interesting, funny women.  We talked a little bit about the differences between England vs. the States and they said, “one thing we’ve always wanted to know - why do you have those huge gaps in the doors between your public bathrooms? You can practically see inside!” I said “I honestly have no idea and we all hate it too.  Ask me something else I can answer!!!”  We drank there for a while until Angie took Thea home because she was starting to get a little under the weather and fussy, and Aaron had a weird reaction to his IPA and immediately lost his voice.  Adam went home to Angie, and Angie’s niece who had just come in asked if I wanted to get dinner.  To be honest, I did not want to get dinner.  She is a little odd for a 30-year-old female and I didn’t have any idea what we were going to talk about.  Spoiler: I was correct.  She’s the kind of person who just won’t respond if she isn’t interested in what you have to say.  So we’d be walking along chatting, and I’d say something, and she’d just be silent.  Laaa dee daaa... she also lived in Versailles in college and is also fluent in French, and knew her way around very well, so I unintentionally just felt dumb and patronized.  We stopped at a place she wanted to go to for “authentic French cuisine”, blech, and I just got an omelette.  The menu was all in French and luckily I mostly knew what I was reading, but she didn’t even lightly offer to translate. Ha.  She eventually got more approachable and bubbly when we started talking about dating and her boyfriend and the online dating scene.  After dinner, to her credit, she thanked me for agreeing to dinner with her and humoring me on the choice of restaurant and walking together.  So maybe she’s just one of those people who doesn’t emote well but is kind and appreciative on the inside.  Walked home and went to sleep, again in silence.

Woke up intermittently and kept checking the Phillies’ score in the middle of the night, only to see a very sad ending... sigh.  At least Rhys and Bryce looked hot AF.  Angie and Adam are Nats fans but admittedly love both Rhys and Bryce.  I showed Adam the press conference of Bryce thanking Ned as a part of his signing, and Adam was THOROUGHLY impressed, so that made it all worth it.

Going to stay at this cafe for several hours and try to give Angie and Adam some space, as Angie thinks she and Thea are getting sick and I don’t want to impose more than I already have.  I may walk to the 6th later to visit the Hotel Raphael, Hotel Majestic, and the Peninsula; as ER has places in each of them and it would be amazing to see them firsthand.  Usually people on-site are very kind to me when I just pop in and say I work for ER, because it’s in their best interest to show me good service so I highly recommend them to my members.  Maybe I’ll splurge and have a cocktail or a short massage at the world-famous Peninsula hotel!!  TBD, the day is young.  For now, hopefully I accomplish my freelance work so I’m not a miserable jet-lagged shrew next week.  Wish me luck!! 

[issabeauty1-blog]

Love Untraditional

IT was a few days before Thanksgiving 2018. This would have made 2 maybe 3 Thanksgivings that I spent as a single female. Not that the prior 7-8 years was any different, but my heart was healing from an unexpected breakup. Let me explain. Nathan was supposed to had been my everything. I mean, he was an amazing man. He gave me everything I thought that I needed. I felt protected (and we all want to feel protected). He stood about 6 feet 5 inches, dark chocolate complexion. Although he was lacking in certain anatomy of his body and looks, he made up for it in his intelligence. He showed me things that I had never seen before and always made me feel secure about my extra rolls. He encouraged me and wasn’t afraid of my strong demeanor. If I could say one thing that I least liked about him it would be his non-emotional disposition. I hated that! He was extremely egotistical and cocky on top of that. I guess I partial to blame when I bragged about how good he was in bed. Things began to change when he had to relocate for work. His career was always very important to him. I give him that, he was a hard worker and good at what he did. Although his job bounced him around from state to state, we always managed to see each other once a month….at least. Then the visits started to become far in between. And when we did see each other, if we weren’t having a petty disagreement, we were humping like rabbits. And it didn’t help much that his Caribbean background caused for lots and lots of alcohol. And of course alcohol sometimes leads to things we aren’t so proud of like exploring weird, in the closet desires. And then BOOM, after his mom passed he hit me with the ultimate betrayal. He told me that he had been seeing other women the whole time we’ve been dating! The whole damn time. Now at this time of confession, we were kinda sorta broken up. I just took a quick flight to see him because his mom had passed. He continued on about how much he still loved me but was currently in a relationship. That he had told her all about me and that she was okay with us still being together. This nigga must have been on dog food. Needless to say, I declined his offer. And although I declined his offer, somehow I just couldn’t let go. I did all sorts of foolish things that we as women sometimes do. I stalked his social media, I tried to make myself present places that I knew he would be. I made idol threats just to start an unavoidable argument. I called him from several burner numbers just to hear his voice or maybe I was just hoping to catch him at a weak moment. But the weaker I got, the stronger he got and the quicker he got over me. So finally, I allowed myself to be heart broken for the first time in my life. I allowed myself to be vulnerable and to admit that this man had hurt me deeply. And instead of being revengeful and plotting on how I was going to hurt his ass back, I just spent several days crying. And before I knew it, I was over him and I was over being in love!

So time went on and I felt it was time for me to start dating or fucking again…However you look at it. I started reaching out to those fuckboys who I knew wanted to be with me at any cost. But when the time came, I backed out. I do value my goods. After being so disappointed by the men I seem to attract, I started to believe it was me. That God had forgotten about me in the romance department. I felt myself being desperate and joining online dating sites just to get attention. Tinder was the most accessible, since it was free and everybody was swiping right. I found myself always swiping right but never finding Mr. Right. I met this one man who I had been chatting with for over 2 months. A nice looking guy from Philly with a calming voice and an average personality. He was nice to talk on a daily basis. He would send me pictures everyday. As I waited patiently, he finally sent me the infamous dick pic. And it was impressive. So I finally decided its time to meet. When I finally got the courage to meet with him, we decided to have our first date at the movies. We met outside the theatre and I call myself gonna sneak up and surprise him. But he had the surprise. From a distance he looked just like his pictures. He was dressed nice and casual. Low hair cut with deep waves. This man turned around and gave me the biggest smile. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YIUR TEETH??? All I saw was pure darkness!! How could he think that it was appropriate to meet me for the first time with no fucking teeth! Like bruh… I didn’t know if I should run, scream or kick his ass for wasting my time! So he asks for a hug and I give him a church hug with a gentle pat on the back. I didn’t want to get too close to feel any sort of bulge. We go inside the theatre and I immediately ask for several drinks. He ask me if I was nervous and I replied no, but I was thinking I just want to drink until my vision was blurred, lol. After the movie we went to dinner. He asks where did I want to eat and I’m looking for the most expensive restaurant in Boca Raton. But since it was so late, we ended up going to Juniors. He orders a burger, fries and onion rings. When they brought our food it was enormous and I’m sitting there waiting to see how he’s gonna eat with no teeth. And he had the nerve to ask the waitress for some pickles…Lol. She gave him pickle spears and he began sucking out the soft center. GROSS!! He has been fumbling with his food for about 30 minutes and yet to take a bite. I know he’s hungry so I excuse myself and head to the bathroom so he can scarf down his food. Hope he don’t choke I remember thinking. Before he could pay the bill my Uber was pulling up. Needless to say I didn’t see nor speak with him again.

After being shamed by my sons, my grandma and friends I vowed not go on any online dating sites again. And for the many months to follow, I keep a fresh pack of batteries. It’s now the holiday day season and a lot has changed. I’m a new grandma, new job and a new look on life. I remember cooking the day before Thanksgiving. I had just finished my first bottle of Moscato and the holiday blues is starting to set in. I grabbed my phone to text Nathan but stopped myself. Good girl!! But instead, I refreshed my Tinder page. After a few swipes right, I came across a match with BG. Now BG profile really caught my attention. He was from NY and grew up in Baltimore. He was a single dad and owned his own business. So we began to chat. We chatted all that night and even Thanksgiving day. For some strange reason, I really wanted to meet this guy before wasting my time. And he wanted to see me also. So we agreed to meet after dinner at my community pool house. I freshened my braids, threw on a cute t-shirt and some shorts. I walked across the parking lot to meet him. He pulled up in a bumble bee. It was clean and he looked nice driving it. He parked and I got in. His pictures didn’t do him justice. It was no coincidence that I was strongly attracted to him and him to me. We sat in his car and talked for hours. It was like we knew each other before. After that night, he immediately text me asking for a real date and I quickly accepted. He picked me up the next day and we headed to the beach. Sounds nice enough until he mentioned it was a “clothing optional” beach. Upon arriving to the beach, all I could see was wrinkled old nuts and tits. It was people from all walks of life. I couldn’t believe he would take me here on a first date. We set up the chairs, the tent and undressed to our swim attire. He went to the water as I stayed behind since I can’t swim. After awhile he encouraged me to get in the water. It was fun I must admit. He held me tight promising not to let me fall. After swimming we headed back to the tent. He dusted the sand off my body. The tent was big enough for us both to fit inside comfortably, so we laid down. He spread the blankets down. I started to complain that my skin was dry after getting out the water and he had baby oil…OF COURSE HE DID. He asked me real gentleman like if he could give me a massage! And ladies we all knows what comes next after he plays the massage card. I changed my Pandora station from Maxwell to R. Kelly because I knew this was gonna be good. His hands were so strong and warm against my trembling skin. Mind you, it has been close to two years since I’ve let a man get this close to me. I laid on my stomach and he had definitely done this before, probably a few times that week alone. He rubbed me slowly yet deep enough so it seemed like a massage. But it was more than that. It was erotic and sinful and I loved it. He worked his skillful hands to my hips. He asked me to spread my legs so he could oil my inner thighs, I obliged. I was so nervous yet so turned on at the same time. I closed my eyes tighter and tighter as he explored my body. I give it to him, he played it very safe…looking for any signs of him crossing the line. But I gave him an all access pass. He then started to gently tug at the strings that held my bikini bottom together. At this point, it was no turning back. Not that I wanted to. I assisted him in untying my bikini. His hands quickly found them back between my thighs. He seductively found himself rubbing the outside of my pulsating vagina. He then took what must have been his middle long finger and with an unexpected thrust, it slide inside my pussy full of juices. It must have felt just as good to him as it did to me because I felt his body moan. I then felt something warm dripping on my leg. And just like that, this man had ended my two year draught.

[ansgiftexchange]

Office Gossip

*For @claudeng80! Merry Christmas! Thank you so much for being so awesome and I hope you enjoy my gift!*

(Modern AU, w/c~1,700)

Kai strolled into the building, whistling a Christmas tune while holding two Starbucks coffee cups in his hands. Shiira sighed, sitting straight in his swivel chair. “You’re late.”

“That’s because I had to get us coffee,” Kai explained, sliding a cup to him as he sat down next to him.

“They have coffee here. If you remembered that you wouldn’t be late all the time.” Shiira grabbed the cup anyway and took a slow sip. “Thanks.”

“I don’t feel like setting up the coffee maker, you know.”

They were the first people inside Wistal Headquarters, setting up the security cameras and checking the daily agenda for scheduled client meetings. It was their responsibility to know each and everyone going in and out of the building, know where everyone was at and what they were doing.

“Are you bringing a date tonight?” Kai asked as he stapled the blank sign-in sheets.

Shiira shook his head, eyes glued to the glass doors of the building. “Are you?”

“No.”

A few early bird employees trickled in. The cleaning lady Marina was on time today, nodding her head toward the two guards as she walked straight through the office doors behind them. Shiira glanced at the small video screen in front of him, watching Marina head to the kitchen and prepare the morning’s coffee pot.

There were clicking and beeping noises at the front door, like someone trying to get in the building without permission. Shiira dropped his head, sighing with second-hand embarrassment. “Shirayuki! You have to swipe, wait for the click, then pull!”

Shirayuki swiped her badge and pulled the door handles immediately—not waiting for the click. “It’s not working, Shiira!” she shouted, voice muffled by the glass between them.

“Fuck it, just press the button and let her in,” Kai huffed out, swirling his coffee cup. “There’s a line forming behind her.”

“No, she has to learn. Besides, that button is for the handicap,” Shiira explained, facepalming, walking toward the doors. What will they do without him, he thought.

Before Shiira could manually open the door, there was a commotion behind the growing crowd. “Excuse me, I got this. Morning, Shiira.” Obi shoved his way to the front of the line. “You’re an embarrassment, Miss.” He grabbed Shirayuki’s badge, tugging it harshly and nearly crashing her face to wall.

“It doesn’t work, Obi,” she insisted, a tinge of red growing on her cheeks.

Obi swiped her card, waited half a second and pulled the doors open. He glared down at Shirayuki, his face so close they could almost kiss. He flicked her badge out of his fingers, letting it smack into her nose. “It works.” Shiira wedged the door open, letting the rest of the cattle in. He nodded lightly at each one, softly greeting them a good morning.

Shirayuki and Obi dragged inside, bickering on their way in. “You’re such an ass, Obi,” Shirayuki snapped, arms crossing against her chest. “Morning, Shiira. Morning, Kai,” she said chirpily, her tone completely different from a second ago.

Obi whistled, hands behind his head, hips grazing Shirayuki’s as they walked side by side. “You mean a hot ass,” he said, winking at Kai. “Whatever you say, Miss.” He opened the office doors for her, one hand gently placed at the small of her back, corralling her in.

Shiira caught Obi’s impish smile toward Shirayuki and watched the doors slam as they went in.

“Oh, my God. Those two hate each other,” Kai chimed in, elbowing Shiira. “Seriously, they have so much tension, you could cut it with a knife.”

Shiira gave him a quizzical look. “You mean sexual tension.”

Kai nearly choked on his last drops of coffee. “Yeah, right! Obi and Shirayuki? When pigs fly. She’s in love with Zen.”

Shiira shrugged and kept his next thoughts to himself. They were security guards, fo goodness sakes. Water-cooler gossip was for the bored and useless workers…they were professionals.

“Speak of the devil.” Shiira darted toward the entrance. Zen walked in with so much confidence like he owned the building. He practically did—owning thirty-five percent of shares in the company.

“Good morning, you two. Did my package arrive?” Zen said coolly.

Shiira nodded his head, ducking down to the desk and taking out a large, but lightweight, package. “It arrived late yesterday, sir.”

Zen shook it like he was guessing the contents inside.

“What’s inside, if you don’t mind sharing,” Kai asked. He was nosey, but always polite about it.

Zen flashed him a smile. “A suit I’ll be wearing tonight.”

He headed toward the office doors but stopped suddenly like he had forgotten something. “Oh, by the way, hold my calls around noon,” he started, a hand on the doorknob, “I’m having lunch with Shirayuki.”

Kai nodded fervently, a giggle forming at the back of his throat. When the door had finally shut, he squealed like a little girl.

“Oh, my God, he’s so in love with her.”

Shiira shook his head. “They’re just having lunch, idiot.”

“Yeah, but he asked to hold his calls. When has Zen ever asked to hold his calls on his lunch break?”

Shiira lifted a finger, but Kai interrupted him instead. “Never. The answer is never, Shiira.”

The caterers and decorators checked in at different times. It was already a busy day for the two guards and it was barely 1:00 PM.

The interns had their lunches delivered to them—a perk Izana gave them earlier in the year.

“An ice sculptor? For reals?” Kai lifted an eyebrow, double-checking the guest list. “God, the boss is a little extra this Christmas.”

“Why are you complaining? It’s not your money he’s flashing.”

The room echoed in giggles and laughs. Shirayuki and Zen smiled brightly at each other, both carrying doggy bags from the Italian restaurant across the street.

“The tiramisu is amazing,” Shirayuki said, green eyes lighting up.

Zen narrowed his eyes down at her, a coy smile tugging at his lips. “I figured. You ordered two of them!”

Shirayuki hid behind a hand, face turning red as her hair. “Well, I wanted to save one for…”

“Hey, you two!” Kai shouted, waving them toward him. “You guys should check out the room! There’s fake snow, dude! And mistletoes everywhere!”

Zen and Shirayuki exchanged shy looks, then turning their heads to the side. “Well, I got a lot of work to finish before the party,” Shirayuki blurted out. “Thank you for lunch, Zen.”

Zen nodded, one hand massaging his neck as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem. See you tonight?”

Shirayuki smiled at him, walking inside the office without another word. Zen followed after, chuckling to himself as he closed the doors.

“Oh, my God. They are so in love,” Kai chirped.

Shiira lifted an eyebrow, his lips straight as a line. “More like friends. Did you see how far apart they were?”

The conference room transformed into a Winter Wonderland. NSYNC’s “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” blasted through the speakers, and Shiira found himself bopping his head along.

“Money can buy you happiness,” he observed, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s a wonderful feeling, with the love in the room from the floor to the ceiling…” Kai sang along, snapping his fingers on beat. His eyes darted to the bar and he stopped singing. “Shiira, I gotta go. There’s a drink over there that’s eyeing me.”

Shiira walked around the room, watching people immersed in their conversations. There were a lot of them wearing Santa suits. How original, he thought. He headed toward the photo booth, adjusting his tie like he was going to take his school pictures.

The booth was occupied. Red Santa pants with black shoes peeking right below the curtain stops. There was a giggle and a soft moan inside.

Shiira hesitated to move, but wondered if he should come back in a few minutes to give the two occupants some privacy. The moaning continued, two lips smacking against each other as Shiira patiently waited for his turn.

The shutters stopped clicking, but the two occupants continued their romp inside the booth. Shiira glanced over to the dance floor, catching Kai’s gaze. Kai was goofily dancing, arms flailing over his head. Shiira was ready to join him when his eyes dropped to the photo strip that fell on the floor.

Holy shit. Shiira picked up the photo, his eyes flew open in surprise. There was only one red-head in the building, and the pictures showed her face buried inside a fake white beard. It was impossible to recognize the Santa, especially since the four pics had his face underneath Shirayuki’s jaws, neck, and behind her ears.

He placed it back inside the printing station and bolted toward the dance floor. Not my business, he said to himself.

“This party is lit, Shiira!” Kai shouted into his ear. It was electronic music, remixed in between Christmas tunes by Nat King Cole.

Shiira glanced over to the DJ Booth and saw Mitsuhide—Zen’s assistant—controlling the knobs. “Of course he’s playing electronica.” Everyone in the building knew Mitsuhide had shitty taste in music. But it was Christmas and he was smiling brightly and Shiira couldn’t help but smile as well.

Shiira and Kai grooved to the beat, popping and locking like two goofy robots with no rhythm. It had been a while since Shiira had let loose, and today was special.

“Hey, have you seen Shirayuki?” Kai asked, swaying his hips to “One More Time,” by Daft Punk. “Zen is looking for her.”

Shiira shrugged, moving his legs side to side. He loved this song and his body moved along naturally.

“No, I haven’t seen her,” he lied. He didn’t like lying to Kai, especially since he trusted him the most. This was big gossip and he did not feel like partaking in this kind of drama.

“Hey, Kai,” Shiira started, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna take a shot? I Ubered here.”

Kai nodded violently, a squeal escaping him. “Fuck yeah, Shiira! It’s about time! Holy shit, it’s a Christmas miracle!”

They high-fived each other, eagerly walking to the bar, side by side.

#ss17 #submission #gift

[branlovestowrite]

Complicating Factors: Chapter 1

This is my work in progress fic, which I have only been posting on FanFiction.Net. After 12 chapters, my muse has fizzled out. I hope by revising & reposting this, I can get inspired again. Your comments and suggestions (chill vibes only!) are welcome and encouraged!

Complicating Factors 

Rating: M for language and smut in later chapters

Summary: Emma Swan is a single mother trying to contact her ex and father of her child, Neal Cassidy. While she expected some awkwardness when meeting Neal's mother, Milah Gold, she never expected the undeniable attraction she feels toward Milah's younger boyfriend, Killian Jones. No Magic, Modern AU. Captain Swan.

"Swan!" Emma jumped when she heard her friend Mu call out her name. She had been lost in thought as she sat at her desk, having a slow day. She had started working at Grumpy's Bail Bonds nearly two years ago, and spent most of her time doing administrative work: helping with contracts, filing, and managing the books. Working at a bail bonds agency had a lot less excitement than what was portrayed on TV.

'Mu' was short for Mulan, but she hated using her full name, thanks to her Disney counterpart. Mu liked to remind everyone that she was born a full 8 years before that movie came out and was named after the legendary Chinese warrior, not a Disney Princess. The woman was a few years older than Emma, her features reflecting her Chinese heritage, and enhanced by her purple hair and tattoos. Mu's short stature did nothing to reduce the intimidating air she gave off as she leveled her gaze at Emma now.

"I figured you were wearing earbuds by the way you ignored me," Mu said.

"Sorry," Emma replied. "I guess I got lost in thought. I was thinking about how dull this job is compared to what we see on TV shows."

"Well, that's because you haven't been out with me to chase a skip yet. But that's all about to change. You have a date tonight."

"What?" Emma asked, confused.

"This one likes hook ups. His history showed he likes blondes, so I put your pic up on Tinder. He wants to meet you tonight."

"You used my picture as bait?!"

"Relax!" Mu said. "I'll be there the whole time. You only have to go in and keep him occupied. I'll come up and cuff him from behind. Do you have anything slutty to wear?"

Emma was flabbergasted. "I don't know about this, Mu."

"Come on Emma! You need to learn how to do this sooner or later. The payout is way better than desk duty. I'll split tonight's take with you 50/50 if that will make you feel better."

Emma was uneasy with this plan, but Mu was right that she would need to learn this sooner or later. It had been hard to find a decent-paying job after her stint in jail, and she needed to start picking up skips if she ever hoped to have enough money to give her four-year-old son, Henry, the life she felt he deserved. She took a deep breath and said "okay."

"Great!" Mu said. "Do you need me to see if Aurora can watch Henry?" Aurora was Mu's girlfriend. They met in college, finding an immediate connection through their Princess-style names.

"Maybe," Emma replied. "Let me see if Regina can get him first. He's already got things over there and he and Roland are like brothers."

Emma's time in jail came after she was arrested for cocaine possession. She and her boyfriend at the time, Neal, had never done anything more extreme than some underage drinking and pot smoking, and even those cases were very rare. Emma hated the feeling of being out of control, and tended to stay away from drugs for that reason alone. She had no idea that Neal was dealing. Unknown to her, he'd hidden some of his stash inside her suitcase. He disappeared two days before the cops came to search the apartment. After their search, they'd asked Emma to identify if the suitcase was hers, and she stupidly did. They arrested her and pumped her for information about the supplier. Though she didn't know anything, she was sentenced to two years with credit for time served. She'd learned of her pregnancy shortly after her arrest. Unable to contact Neal, and having no family to speak of at the time, she'd had no choice but to let her son go into the foster system until she could finish her sentence. She was extremely reluctant for her son to be a foster child, remembering her own bad experiences, and she begged the Social Worker to find a good situation for him. He'd been placed with Regina, and lived the first two years of his life with her, until Emma was released, able to get a job, and set up a stable home.

After being reunited with her son, Emma realized she had no help. Regina offered to step in for Henry's sake. Regina was…prickly, to put it lightly, but she did truly love Henry. She and Emma were slowly starting to build a good relationship. It helped that Regina had recently married Rob, a man she met when Henry and Rob's son, Roland, were in daycare together. Rob was a widower whose wife died in childbirth. He and Regina began dating when the kids were a little older than two, and just married in a small ceremony about 6 months ago. Emma liked Rob, and though they were only a little more than 10 years older than her, in their mid-30s, Emma looked up to Regina and Rob as her surrogate parents.

Henry and Roland were very close in age and greatly enjoyed each other's company. They still attended the same daycare and had playdates nearly every weekend. It was not uncommon for Henry to spend the night at Regina's, though Emma usually did nothing with those free nights but sit around her small apartment and binge watch shows on Netflix.

She picked up the phone to call Regina and explained the situation. Regina said she was happy to help, and offered to let Henry sleep at her house and drop him off at daycare in the morning. Emma was grateful and said she would call to talk to Henry before the boys' bedtime.

With that out of the way, she returned to the situation of what to wear on her date. She didn't have anything slutty to wear, so Mu decided they needed to go shopping.

"I don't really have the money for a dress," Emma said.

"No worries," Mu replied. "I'll put it on my credit card. I'd consider this a work-related expense."

Emma knew better than to protest. She figured that whatever dress she got would definitely not be worn again unless they had another job like this one, so it was justified as work-related expense.

A few hours later, Emma stood in the back of the office, wearing a skin tight pink dress and black heels that were higher than any she'd worn before. In addition to buying the dress and shoes, Mu had dragged her to a salon for a blowout, which left her long hair hanging in soft waves down her shoulders. They'd finished the transformation by Mu dragging her to an empty office that served as a break room, saying it had the best lighting, in order to apply makeup. Emma had never worn this much makeup in her life. Her green eyes were rimmed with black liner in a cat eye shape that was just thin enough to not be garish. Her lips were accentuated with a soft pink color that emphasized their shape and made her face glow. As she looked in the mirror Mu held up, Emma couldn't help but feel pretty.

"Hot," Mu said. "I'd bang you if I were single."

Emma blushed involuntarily. "Thanks for the compliment," she said with sarcasm.

"Remind me when we get there to take a few pictures of you before we catch the guy. It will be useful if we need to pull this Tinder sting again."

They headed out to Emma's car, an old, yellow VW Beetle and the only thing Neal knowingly ever gave her. She was surprised she got to keep it once she was released from jail. She and Neal met when she was attempting to steal the Bug, which he'd already stolen. He must have gotten a clean VIN for the car, because when she got out, the keys were returned to her. Despite the bad memories from Neal, Emma loved this car. It probably wasn't the best family car, but it was reliable and had been a huge help when she was trying to rebuild her life.

Once at the restaurant, Mu and Emma reviewed the plan one final time and headed inside. Mu wore a beanie over her purple hair, and kept her distance several paces behind Emma. Emma spotted her target at the bar and walked over to him.

"Hi," she said, putting on her most charming smile. "Are you Jack?"

"Yes," he replied, returning her smile. "You must be Emma. I have to say, I'm somewhat relieved."

"What?" she said demurely. "You thought I lied on the app?"

"Well, truth be told, your profile pic doesn't do you justice."

She put her hand on his arm and leaned in a bit closer. "Same to you."

He winked at her, and Emma felt a rush of adrenaline. This was actually kind of fun. She continued to talk with Jack while they ordered drinks. The plan was for her to maneuver him to a secluded corner table that Mu picked when she scouted out the place, but Jack was proving resistant to moving from the bar. He seemed to want to show Emma off to the other men there, which made her want to scoff in disgust.

When Jack turned away to order more drinks, she let her eyes wander around. They landed on a man across the bar who was almost too good looking to be real. He had dark hair and lightly tanned skin. A scar was on his right cheek, just above the dusting of a copper-tinted beard along his jaw. Even in the dim lighting, she could see that his eyes were a brilliant blue. Though he was sitting, she could tell he was tall and muscular, and his body language exuded confidence. He met her eyes and held her gaze, raising his right eyebrow in a curious gesture. She had to stop herself from responding with a smile, remembering that she was supposed to be here with Jack. Tearing her eyes from the delicious-looking man, she refocused on Jack, who thankfully had not noticed her distraction.

Eventually she got Jack into the corner, and Mu came up and cuffed him, just as they planned. Mu told Emma that it would be better if she took Jack to the police station in the Bug and then came back for her. Emma agreed and wandered over to the bar. She was perusing the menu for something to eat when she felt someone walk up behind her.

"That was not how I expected your evening to end, love."

A shiver ran down her spine and she turned to see Captain Delicious. In addition to his amazing looks, he had one of the sexiest accents she'd ever heard. She tried her best to school her features and not give away her attraction.

"Well," she began, "I like defying expectations."

He smiled, and his whole face lit up. He gestured to the empty stool next to her. "May I?" She inclined her head and he sat down.

"So," he said, "were you in on that performance?"

"Yes. I work with the woman who took him away. She's my friend and she's training me."

"You work as a bail bondsman?"

"Bondsperson," she corrected. "It’s not official yet. Mu just started teaching me how to catch skips. Most of my days are spent at the office doing admin work."

"I see. Could you tell me your name? Or would that blow your cover?"

She smiled. "Emma. Emma Swan."

He extended his hand and she took it. As they shook hands he said, "Killian Jones, at your service."

"It's nice to meet you, Killian."

"And you, Emma."

"So, Killian, what do you do to earn a living?"

"I'm a professor. I teach History at Storybrooke U."

"Interesting," she said, dragging the word out. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Well, in my younger days, I was in the Royal Navy. But I never saw myself as a career soldier, so when my time was up, I got out. I spent some time traveling with my brother, and we went diving on shipwrecks. I started a blog about our travels, which turned into a book deal. Then I took the money from that, went back to school, and many, many years later, ended up with my PhD in History. My specialty is Maritime History, but I mostly teach World History now."

"A PhD? So you're actually Dr. Jones?"

He laughed. "Only to my students."

Their conversation continued, and Emma found herself truly enjoying the exchange. All too soon they were interrupted by Killian's phone ringing. He looked at the screen, frowned, and silenced the ringer.

"Apologies, love. I need to make my exit. I unfortunately need to go have an unpleasant conversation."

"Is everything alright?"

"Nothing dire. I just need to go talk to my sometimes girlfriend. She's been a bit hot and cold lately."

Emma's heart sank a little. Of course a gorgeous guy like him would have a girlfriend. She put on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she extended her hand and said "It was really nice meeting you, Killian."

"You too, Emma. I hope I can see you again. Do you come to this bar often?"

She shook her head from side to side. "This is my first time here."

He fished out his wallet and placed one of his business cards on the bar in front of hers. "Well, if I can ever do anything for you, please reach out to me."

"Thanks," she said, unable to hide her disappointment at his departure. He put a hand on her shoulder and winked at her. Even that innocent touch was enough to fan the flame inside. He seemed to realize this, smirking as he walked away without another word. His arrogance helped her move beyond her attraction, and she scoffed out loud.

She put his card in her purse, finished her drink, and closed out her tab. When she stood to leave, Mu was there with a happy look on her face.

"All done!" she said. "Leroy will get you your cut tomorrow. Let's head back to the office so I can get my car. I need a hot shower."

"Sounds great," Emma said, following her friend out of the bar.

The next day started well, with Emma collecting her payout and finding herself $500 richer. She was tempted to spend it all on something frivolous, but she decided it would be better to save it. Nearly all of it went to her savings account, but she did set aside $50 to take Henry to do something fun that weekend.

After that she quickly finished the paperwork she had waiting, and gave a client a ride to court. When she got back it was lunch time and she was out of things to do. Mu wa in, so Emma decided to work on her personal project: trying to track down Neal.

Emma would be perfectly happy if she never saw Neal again, but she knew that wasn't fair to Henry. He was starting to ask questions about his father. Emma had considered lying and saving her son some pain, but Regina counseled her against it. After considering Regina's advice, Emma had told Henry that she didn't know where his father was, but that she would do everything she could to find him so they could meet.

The trouble was, Neal Cassidy was hard to find. There was no record of him in Boston. It was a somewhat common name, but every lead she tracked down was a bust. After a while, she started to lose hope. Luckily, her friend David, a police detective, offered his services to help.

Emma met David through his wife, Mary Margaret, a teacher at Henry's daycare. Mary Margaret was quite possibly the most upbeat person Emma had ever met, but she was so genuine that you couldn't help but like her. David was not quite as chipper as his wife, but still annoyingly positive. They were good people, and Emma was happy to have their help. She hadn't heard from him lately, but still felt it couldn't hurt to call.

"David Nolan," he answered when she called his cell.

"Have you still not saved my number in your phone, Dave? Or are you just messing with me?"

"Nope, still haven't saved it. I like the mystery of not knowing who's calling me."

"You're weird," Emma replied.

"I'm glad you called. I was meaning to call you. I got a lead on your project."

"You did?" Emma was cautious. She'd run into so many dead ends in this search.

"Yeah. I came across some arrest records from about 15 years ago. A kid gave the name Neal Cassidy at arrest, but his real name was Neal Gold."

"Of course!" She exclaimed. "He gave me a fake name. I'll add that to the list of lies he told me."

“Well, the trail runs cold there, but he was picked up by a woman named Milah Gold. She was listed as his mother."

"Milah Gold...I'll look her up. Maybe I can find her and get to Neal that way. Thanks Dave!"

"Happy to help. Oh, and Mary Margaret mentioned having you and Henry over for dinner Friday night. You in?"

"Sure. I'll let her know when I pick up Henry this afternoon."

"Great. See you then, Emma."

Emma hung up feeling refreshed. She began searching for more information about Milah Gold, and the search was immediately fruitful. Milah owned a small boutique in a trendy part of town that sold vintage clothes. Emma decided to pay the boutique a visit that afternoon, before she lost her nerve.

She parked a few blocks down from the boutique, in the first open spot she found. Taking a deep breath, she began to walk to the store. Unfortunately, she wasn't paying attention where she was going and ran right into a man carrying two cups of coffee, which were spilled all over her white shirt.

"Fuck!" She cried out. The coffee wasn't too hot, thankfully, but it stained her shirt and her bra was now clearly visible under the wet fabric. She looked up, ready to chew out the offender, when she recognized his blue eyes.

"Emma?" He asked before she could say anything.

"Killian...hi," she replied, giving him an awkward smile.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"I could say the same."

"I'm here to-" he started, but was interrupted by the shop door opening and a stunningly beautiful woman with flowing brown hair stepping out. She was taller than Emma, and looked to be somewhere in her 40's. 

"Killian?" The brunette asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Milah," he replied. "I'm afraid there was a bit of a mishap with our coffees." He pointed to Emma.

"Oh no!" Milah replied, taking in Emma's soaked shirt. "Come inside dear. I am sure I can find you something to replace the shirt my boyfriend so haphazardly ruined."

It took Emma a moment to connect the dots. "Milah?" She asked. "Milah Gold?"

Milah stopped and stared at Emma. "Yes...and you are…?" Her tone was wary, but not unkind.

Killian stepped in. "This is Emma Swan."

"You know each other?" Milah asked. "Are you one of Killian's students?"

"Um...no," began Emma. She remembered Killian mentioning there was some tension with his girlfriend, and she chose to take his lead on this.

"Emma and I met the other night at Tony's. She had some trouble with her date."

Milah smiled, but there was definitely some jealousy there. "Always the gentleman."

Milah pulled Emma inside and found a shirt for her. She led the younger woman to the changing room and Emma gratefully replaced her shirt with the much nicer sweater. She tried to pay Milah for the item, but Milah refused, saying she would put it on Killian's tab.

"So," she said after Emma was cleaned up. "What brings you here?"

Emma sucked in her breath. This was awkward, but she would not back down. She hated disappointing her son.

"Do you have a son, Neal?"

"Yes…" Milah said.

"He and I used to date. I haven't heard from him in almost five years, but I really need to talk to him."

"Why?"

"Well, you see, he and I have a son together. Neal doesn't know about Henry. I want my son to have the chance to meet his father."

"Neal has a son?" Milah asked. "You mean to tell me that I'm a grandmother?"

"It would appear so," Emma responded. She took out her phone and showed Milah a picture of Henry.

"Oh," Milah replied. "He looks just like Neal did as a boy."

"Do you know where I can find Neal?"

"I'm sorry, no. I haven't spoken to my son in ten years. We're not on the best terms. Maybe Robert can help.”

"Robert?"

"My ex-husband." Milah replied. "He's a lawyer, but he also teaches at Storybrooke U."

"With Killian?"

"Different department, love," Killian chimed in. "He teaches contract law."

Milah seemed to have forgotten Killian was there. She stepped closer to her boyfriend and looped her arm with his in a clearly possessive gesture.

"I don't like talking to my ex, but I agree that Neal should know he has a child. I'll reach out to Robert. Could you come by again on Saturday, maybe around 10? I should have an answer then. And maybe you could bring my grandson? I'd love to meet him."

Emma was unsure, but decided to continue on this path. Milah was obviously insecure about her relationship, but she figured it couldn't hurt for Henry to get to know another family member.

"Okay," she said. "We can do that."

"Great!" Milah said. She picked up a business card from the holder by the register and circled her cell phone number. "Call me if anything changes. I can't wait to meet Henry!"

Despite Milah's territorial behavior, Emma could see she was truly was excited about meeting Henry. She gave Milah a warm smile and said goodbye. Just then a customer came through the door, carrying a box of clothes. Milah indicated this was a client who was selling some pieces, and asked Killian if he would go get new coffees for them. They gave each other a chaste kiss and Killian followed Emma out the door.

Killian and Emma stood awkwardly looking at one another, just outside the store's entrance. He began nervously scratching behind his ear before saying "she's a good woman, Milah is. She's had a hard go of it, but she's got a good heart."

"Good to know," Emma said. Even now she couldn't shake the attraction she felt toward this man. He now had his hands in his pockets, the muscles of his forearms flexing as they peeked out from his rolled up shirt sleeves. She caught herself staring a moment too late, and looked up to see him with that damn eyebrow cocked up again.

"I have to go," she said as she felt her cheeks turn crimson. "See you around Killian."

"You too, Swan."

Emma got in her car and berated herself. What was she doing? This man was dating a woman she'd just learned was her son's grandma. Was she really lusting after a man who was, for all intents and purposes, Henry's step-grandfather?

#cs fanfics #cs fanfic #cs ff #ouat fanfiction #ouat ff #killian jones #emma swan #milah #complicating factors fanfic

[gingerambition]

Ginger Ambition Update

If you don’t know me, I’m assuming I’m your favorite ginger you’ve never met. If you’re reading this and you have met me however, you either have a huge secret crush on me, you’ve dated me and you’re looking for a subtle reference to yourself, or you recite my name each night as part of your Arya Stark–esque murder list. Honestly you’re more than welcome to my face, it takes an hour to put on before a first date anyway and is almost immediately ruined by excessive heat and pouting. You’d really just be saving me time at this point.

 Anyway, before I can publish my drafts about receiving dick pics in my late 20′s (FUUUUUUCK), Tinder dates that result in me either A. bailing him out of jail or B. ending up at a bar that is actually a wake, and being a proud member of the girls still blacking out in Ubers while everyone else is getting engaged club, I have to get some things off my (perky) chest. It’s kind of long but typing it out will be like losing 20 pounds of emotional weight. 

It’s been eight months since I got dumped. Two hundred and forty days later (I haven’t been counting I just did 8 x 30 on my phone) and I am still getting the same questions, so to avoid prolonging the graduation party effect (answering the same 5 questions on repeat the way I’m currently listening to “Look What You Made Me Do”), I am going to just put it all on the table. 

I got dumped at the end of December. It was days after celebrating Christmas with his family and attending my best friend’s 90′s throwback party where everything seemed normal AF. In fact I hear he’s up for an Oscar for his portrayal of communicating, loving boyfriend. So no, it was not mutual. He had his reasons. (Sidebar: the self-control I just showed in resisting the urge to put air quotes around the word, reasons, is similar to how I felt the other night when this old dude who was buying me Coors Lights was texting Taylor Kitsch, YES – THE ACTOR, and all I wanted to do was spider monkey across the table, grab his phone, and get the digits of a B-list celeb).  I felt the breakup was out of the blue.  I’m sure him and I will never see eye-to-eye on it, and that’s because he’s way taller than me so it’s physically impossible.  If I’ve told you “my story” in person, just skip this post. If you’ve been curious, here it is . . . 

I Ubered to our apartment from the San Francisco airport (he couldn’t pick me up because he was drinking), and he was on the couch. He hadn’t unpacked from being home for Christmas yet. He got back to our apartment a day earlier. His shoes were on. I made us mac n’ cheese. I started nagging that he wasn’t eating his and it was getting cold, I even put the pepper out for you. I was snuggling our cat and asking him how much he missed his girls. He turned off the TV and said, using my full name, we need to talk. Every part of me between my throat and my belly button knotted together and tasted like acid and pennies, my limbs felt distant and heavy, I moved to him, but I felt more like I was watching myself. After we spoke (he whispered, I cried), he took his still packed bag, I tried to kiss him (I got his cheek), and I watched him walk down the hall as I so often did in the morning when he left for work before me. That was the last time I saw him. After 2 states, 4 apartments, 5 years, countless "babe, you need to double flush after that,” kitchen slow dance parties, and putting our mattress in the living room for pizza fueled sleepovers, it was done. And it is done, because I don’t believe in second chances when it comes to ex-boyfriends. At some point they always come back. Of that I am certain. It could be 5 weeks or it could be 15 years, but it always happens and I take comfort in that.

I called my best friend, she didn’t answer so I texted her husband. I called my mom. I called my sister. My best friend called back. I told my college best friends. I texted a few more girls. I told everyone I wanted to hear it from me, and gave them permission to pass it on like a shitty game of telephone, so I wouldn’t have to live it over and over. I cried myself to sleep wrapped up in a nest of blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes I made out of things that smelled like him. I woke up every hour, realized where I was, cried, fell back asleep, repeat. I left the TV on to feel less alone. The small studio, that I couldn’t wait to return to less than 24 hours prior, felt less like home and more like stumbling upon a movie set or the apartment of a stranger I follow on Instagram. I had an idea of who had lived there, how they felt, how I should feel, but I was suffocated between collections of crap full of memories I could imagine but not grasp, and inside jokes I could make an outline of, but not see. In 12 hours I had aged 5 years. Everything felt fresh, and sharp, and distant, and numb, and a thousand other emotions all at the same time and I didn’t understand how that could be. 

Then I did something I never thought I would do, I just left. I took a red eye flight back to Michigan, where I was just 24 hours prior. I left all of the apartment lights on, the TV, and our Christmas tree. I cut up our favorite t-shirt then refolded it and put it in his drawer. I snapped my Harry Potter wand in half (from our 4 year anniversary trip) and put it under his pillow. I took everything of his I could see from my bed and put it in the corner. I tore every Uno card in half and left them in a pile. I wanted to break all of his Legos and throw out the directions but my mom said no, and for some reason I listened. I pulled the felt monogram I made off his nightstand lamp shade. I deleted my wedding Pintrest board. I deleted all of our pictures together from my phone. If you don’t want me anymore, I don’t see the point in lingering. If I said doing all of that petty crap didn’t make me feel better, I’d be lying. It was better than drunk Taco Bell after a sorority date party. 

I took as many sweatshirts and yoga pants as I could fit in a carry on, my large suitcase, my purse, cornered our cat into her carrier, and I left the rest for him to ship. Here’s an old school story problem to give you a break from brown out figuring out how to tip and write your number of a bar tab at the same time, 1 sobbing ginger + 2 suitcases + 1 purse + 1 cat that weighs like 2 cats = this blog can write itself. But wait, there’s more! The Titanic soundtrack was playing at my gate and my Uber driver almost killed us. He didn’t understand English, so when my cat started clawing to get out of her soft side airplane regulation carrier, and I pleaded with her to stop (when it rains it pours), he slammed on the breaks - on the HIGHWAY - and said “stop? stop? stop?” I yelled, KEEP FUCKING GOING. Not a moment I’m particularly proud of, but it happened. I put in my 2 weeks notice and worked remotely, wrapping up projects, and apologizing in emails. I tried not to burn bridges. Hurt has a ripple effect not always immediately evident. 

The worst part for me is knowing one day, every adventure, every nickname, every private moment we shared together will be forgotten, will disintegrate, and I will be reduced to, “that ginger I dated for like 5 years in my 20′s and had a TV show no one watched.” I will be become one of his two truths and a lie options. I won’t even have a name. He will tell some Cliff Notes version of “our story” to the daughter he has with someone else who isn’t me when it’s her heart that is broken and craves assurance there’s someone out there for everyone.

I slept on and off for the next 4 days, a very Carrie in the “Sex and The City” movie when she’s on her honeymoon with her friends instead of Big, of me to do. I never said I wasn’t dramatic. I didn’t drink. I made myself shower. I went on long walks with my parents’ dog and listened to a “Guys Are The Wooooorst” Spoitfy playlist I made. Everyone was so proud of me and impressed by how I kept it together, how I’m still keeping it together. Friends were happy to have me home, to have me so close to them. I felt wanted again. It’s not hard to act fine when he’s on the other side of the country. I wasn’t going to run into him. He never drunk dialed me, never texted. As much as distance can make things hard, it can also make things easy. 

My first breakup with my first boyfriend when I was 19 was horrible. I lost a ton of weight (not in a hot way - in a, “her head is too big for her body” kind of way), I didn’t go to class, I passed out on porches, I took my anti-depressants on and off sometimes with whatever shot was on special or being handed to me. This time, simply put, I would not allow myself to be that girl again. I was like nope, too cute, too sassy, too many people who love me to go back to that. (Although it would be nice to basically fit my American Girl doll’s clothes again.) I received so many cards and presents in the mail from best friends, girls I hadn’t talked to in years, and old co-workers that I almost wish I got dumped sooner, preferably around the time of a Kate Spade Surprise Sale. 

So it’s been eight months. I’m 27-years-old and I’m starting over. I’m living at home. I bought a new old car. I thought 2017 was the year I’d be planning a wedding. Now the extent of my planning is what I’m wearing to work tomorrow and what city I will visit next weekend. But you know what? I’m happy. I’m loved. I’m done settling. 

#boybye #GingerAmbition #Breakup #KellyannWargo #Single