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tipsydipsydo · 4 years

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Poolside Kisses 🍹[M]

Pairing: Jimin x chubby! poc! Reader

Gender of the reader: female

Word Count: 5.6k

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Warnings: mentions of insecurities; Jiminie and his jealousy (but at the end of the fic they're talking about that); Jiminie is horny as fuck; swearing; petnames; filthy language + filthy dirty talk; praising; body-worship; teasing; edging; begging; marking; thigh-riding and thigh-fucking(?); a little bit dom-/sub-themes; a bit of spanking and pussy exhibitionism; semi-public sex (can you count fucking in your friend's house as semi-public sex?); creampie; unprotected sex (stay safe please!); mentions of aftercare

A/N: Finally, I wrote something for chubby! Readers and for poc! Reader as well. The moodboard was ready for weeks but the fic wasn't... And now it got longer than expected!

The texting with my dear @h0esvck inspired me again to write this fic here, after we talked about cute and sexy bikinis for chubby girls and how the boys could react to these swimsuits! (I really love that bikini in the moodboard💕)

Summary: Jimin said, you should pack a swimsuit into your suitcase when you're going to visit him in Korea. You thought, you'll go bathing somewhere privately, maybe just with the boys or so... and not going to a pool party of one of Jimin's Idol friends where you'll not know anybody! Since then you hate yourself that you only brought your new bikini to Korea that reveals more of your bare skin that you're used to...

Note: It's proofread but I'm sorry when there are still some typos

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And as always, everyone can read the fic who's interested in it 🤗💖 Enjoy!

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

Since ten minutes you've been staring at the bikini that is spread out on the bed in front of you. You try to come to a solution for the problem that has been bothering you since this morning.

When Jimin said a week ago that you should pack swimwear for your visit in Korea, you already had been a little suspicious and unsettled.

But you couldn't imagine anything else than maybe going with him and the other members to a privately rented pool. Or maybe going to a beach with them, where nobody knows them anyway, so that they don't get too much unnecessary attention.

The boys already know and love you, so they don't care much about how you look like, as long as you're happy and make Jimin happy as well.

With these thoughts, you calmed yourself a little bit down and quickly drove your worries into the last corner of your mind.

That was also the reason why you were thinking about to try something new, instead of just wearing this boring black one-piece swimsuit that you've had for the last six years.

Maybe something cute, a nice two-pieced swimsuit, something like a bikini or so, that flatters your curves and just hugs them in all the right ways. Something that makes you feel sexy and attracts Jimin's attention a bit more than usual.

The thought alone how Jimin always strips you down with his eyes when you wear something close-fitting, which emphasizes your large chest, your round butt or your juicy thighs in the right ways...

...oh god, just the thought of it makes your knees weak and your panties getting wet.

But that's not the point, you have a lot of other problems right now.

At breakfast this morning, Jimin told you for what exactly you need your swimwear. And it's nothing like you thought before, a day at the beach or at the pool and only with the other guys, no.

The real reason is, that one of Jimin's Idol Friends has his birthday today and throw a poolparty in his villa.

That's not how you imagined it...

Of course you are happy that Jimin is not shy about introducing you to all his other friends in addition to the members and showing up with you in public places.

Nevertheless, you're aware that being chubby is not one of the "desirable" standards of the beauty ideals in Korea. Plus, you're a part of people that have a colored skin tone and all of you still have to face unfortunately prejudice and racism in all corners of the world.

That doesn't mean Koreans are racists or they are going to bodyshame someone, oh hell no! But... of course there are always such kinds of worries, like that you couldn't fulfill all the expectations of his friends, ARMYs or in general the whole publicity.

But that shouldn't be your goal either. Jimin loves you the way you are and everyone else should accept and respect you as his girlfriend and thus your relationship.

Nevertheless, a dull feeling spreads out in your stomach at the thought of having to wear this two-pieced bathing suit.

You really like it and you immeaditly fell in love with this bikini when you tried it on while the shopping trip with your friends. You think that it emphatize your curvy figure wonderfully, hides your fluffy belly in a great way and still shows more skin than you are used to.

And that's exactly the point.

You would show more skin than you're actually used to, so you'd walk completely out of your well known and loved comfort zone... and now even in front of strangers you don't know at all!

Everything in you is reluctant to wear this bikini to this party. You had also thought about going on a quick shopping tour into the town this morning. Hoping to find a one-piece swimsuit that can hide your belly a little better than this bikini. But you rejected the thought so fast like it had came into your mind.

You know Seoul far too little to know, where to find the plus size clothing stores. You know they exist! After all, you had been in these shops with Jimin on your recent visits, but you have absolutely no clue where to find them. So you quickly throw this idea into your mental trash can.

So you have no choice but to put on this swimsuit here.

You sigh and look at this two-pieced bathing suit in frustration again. Why the heck were you so stupid and didn't pack both swimsuits straight away in your suitcase, then you wouldn't have this problem now! But you have no other option than to wear it, you don't want to explain to Jimin that you don't want to come to the party because of your swimsuit. He was so happy this morning to finally be able to introduce you as his girlfriend to all his other friends.

You are about to put your dress on when Jimin knocks gently on your door, the door of the guest room (which you hardly really "need" because you sleep with him in his bed all nights anyway) and asks you through the door if you're ready.

You answer him with a hasty "Yes, just give me two more minutes!" and quickly stuff your towels, a pair of fresh underwear, sunblocker and other things that maybe could be useful, into your beach bag.

You slip with your bare, dark blue painted toenails into your sandals and before you walk out of the door, you quickly fix your sun hat and sunglasses as you walk past the large full-body mirror.

You are as ready as you can be when you're going to show yourself to strangers in a swimsuit that is more skin-revealing for your usual standards.

When you open the door and give Jimin, who is standing in the hall and is waiting for you, a small smile, a bright smile spreads on his lips.

His eyes wander slowly down at your body, you don't miss how he licks his lips, which leave you even little bit embarrassed.

But he also looks so damn good in this white t-shirt that he wears, under which you already can imagine his well-built abs, together with this black, low hanging shorts and a pair of black sneakers, made of thin fabric. His outfit is so casual, but at the same time it looks so elegant on him!

"Damn, baby... you look absolutely gorgeous! You look so fantastic, to be honest I don't want to show you the others in this amazing outfit... I bet with you, that they start gawking and drooling because you are so damn sexy. I really have to be careful not to get jealous and to behave decently, so that I don’t do all these dirty fantasies that I have with you in my mind in front of other people’s eyes... ", says Jimin in a half serious, half playful tone and with a meaningful look into your eyes.

"Jimin! Don't say such things, I thought we want to go to the party of your friend!", you reply with a slightly embarrassed smile and hit him with gentle force at his right arm. He's whining a little bit, rubbing the hurting spot after your punch.

"Yes, yes! But that doesn't mean you have to hit me right away!", Jimin whines as you walk down the hall of the dorm to the front door. Like the gentleman he is, he opens the door to the passenger seat of the car dir you and let you get in with a charming smile.

On the way to the party you chat around, laughs about God knows everything and sings together to the latest summer hits that comes out of the radio. Jimin with his angelic voice and then you with your voice, that reminds you more of a screaming cat than anything else. Your boyfriend admits that you still have to practice a bit on your singing talent, but he motivates you with every new song again to sing along with him. But your exuberant, lively mood gets an unwanted damper when you turn into a street and you can already see all the countless cars parked on the roadside from the distance.

Some, like you, just seem to have arrived only a few minutes ago. When you see all these other slim, long-legged beauties in their gorgeous summer dresses or already in their bikinis outfits with these fit bodies, you swallow hard and start chewing on your lower lip. Jimin doesn't miss that.

"Baby?"

"Hm?"

"You think too much, my love. Just look at yourself, you are beautiful! And show that too, show them all how damn attractive you are. They'll love you, I promise! And if anyone giving you a weird look, this person will get a serious problem with me! Okay Darling? I love you and everybody else should know too how much you mean to me... and don't let these silly thoughts in your pretty head up there ruin the evening, okay?"

You take a deep breath and finally nod to Jimin confidently.

He is right, you are probably thinking too negative again. You should also go to this party without the prejudice, that they already dislike you for whatever reason and just think positive and enjoy the day.

"Ready, Baby?"

"Yes, I'm ready."

With a cheeky wink in your direction, Jimin gets out of the car and is fast enough at your door to open it for you again.

You roll your eyes in annoyance, but you can't help but smile.

"Jimin, that's really cute of you, but you don't always have to do that. I'm a confident, independent woman, I'm able to open the door by myself too!", you complain but have to laugh at the end of the sentences.

"Then show them with exactly this body here, how confident you are, my dear lady~", Jimin replies with a husky wisper into your ear, which let a shiver run down your back. You are only able to nod at this moment, try not to be too flustered by Jimin's sex appeal. The same person is fully aware of his influence on you and laughs contentedly as you walk together to the front door.

When the doorbell rings, it is opened by other guests who tell you and use vague hand gestures to indicate where the person, who has birthday today and is the actual party host, could be. You two thanks them and slowly find your way down to the terrace, between all of the chatting, sometimes already dancing and celebrating peoples.

It seems like you'll don't know anyone, really nobody at this party. Sometimes you only recognize some K-Pop Idols here and some other K-Drama actors and actresses there, but you don't know anybody really personally, except of Jimin.

That's why you hold his hand even more tightly, afraid of losing him in the crowd. His thumb draw gentle circles over the back of your hand, he can feel how tense you are, try his best to calm you down.

You're going to be stopped on your actual way to Jimin's Friend by some other idols or international celebrities. You have a small talk with them and you'll be greeted every time with very much enthusiasm when Jimin introduces you as his girlfriend.

You don't really know how to deal with it, least of all with their detailed gaze your body. They don't say anything and their looks are not to be rated directly as negative one, much more in curious and interested way?

But before you can start to worry too much about it, the small talk is already over and Jimin continues to guide you through the crowd to the rightful host, who is in the huge garden behind the villa.

This person greets Jimin with a buddy slap on the shoulder and pulls you into a warm hug, which you had not expected at all. You automatically stiffen up, so that the same person lets you go immediately and apologizes hastily for his inappropriate behavior.

At the same time, you want to make it clear that he didn't do anything wrong and you were just a little surprised. Now you both look at each other in an awkward silence and that makes you twoa little embarrassed, which makes Jimin laugh.

"...and may I introduce to you, that is my girlfriend Y/N."

"H-Hey Y/N! Nice to meet you! Jimin has told me so much about you and every time that happens, I got more curious to finally meet you! And when he said, that you'll be in Seoul in the week when I planned to throw my birthday party, I asked him, to please bring you here, so that I can finally get to know you in person. And when you two just showed up with holding hands, I got carried away a bit. Sorry for my overexited hug. But to Jimin's credit I can already say, that he has an exellent taste for amazing girls, like you are.", he says and gives Jimin and you a playful wink.

At this moment, a waitress with wonderfully decorated cocktails on a tray comes past you and Jimin's friend stops this person with a small gesture to give you two a cocktail of your choice. You all thank the waitress before letting her continue her round through the crowd.

Now the host returns his attention to you again.

"I am really happy that you made it to my party and that you-" at that moment he's looking at you with a big smile "... and that you have also agreed to come here! I assume that unfortunately you don't know that many guests here yet. But I can assure you, nobody will bite you here. But if somebody chat you up or so, please inform me or to the security guards, okay? Some of my guests may starts acting like the last idiots when they're drunk, but I don't let them ruin my party." The way he looks at you completely seriously and at the same time gives you an encouraging smile shows you, that he really tries his best to make you feel comfortable here.

You talk for another ten minutes or so, Jimin's friend already makes you laugh here and there with some jokes, so that you pretty fast don't feel like the "new girlfriend of his buddy" anymore. It's his charm that calms you down and you relax more and more with it. You realize, that everything isn't as terrible as you thought it would be.

To your relief, you also realize that your horror imagination is not coming true. Nobody is gawking at you like you're an exotic animal in the zoo. Nobody behaves weird around you and you haven't noticed until now that anyone starts gossiping about you or your relationship with Jimin.

Only one thing seems to be important to everyone. A great atmosphere and thus an unforgettable evening.

You are so engrossed in the conversation that you wince in surprise when someone taps your shoulder gently. You turn around and there is a girl in front of you, already in a bikini and soaking wet. She seems to have come straight out of the pool to you.

"Hey! You're... Y/N, right? I just want to ask you if you would like to come into the pool and play water volleyball with us? We need one more female player for our team, we want to beat the boys!", she says and point into the direction of the pool, where the other players wave with their hands enthusiastically and want to encourage you to play along with them.

Nevertheless, you look back at Jimin, still a little bit uncertain. Your boyfriend gives you an encouraging kiss on the lips and says teasingly: "Don't look at me so questioningly, come along and show them your talent. You can give me your dress and bag."

Before you can decide against it, you quickly slip out of your sandals and pull your summer dress over your head. You already put the bikini on when you still was in the dorm.

The girl who asked you for the game enthusiastically claps her hands together and immediately grabs your wrist to lead you to the pool.

Only in the corner of your eyes you can see how Jimin's jaw drop at your sight and look at you in disbelief.

However, you don't have time to think about his reaction. You are barely in the water and on your official position when the game already starts.

To be honest, you never thought that this afternoon and evening could turn out to be so good and that you just could play with the other games so boisterously. That everyone just treats you as normal like you are and nobody cares how you look.

But you get the first doubts, that everything is not as good as you think, when you see Jimin on the poolside with a less happy expression on his face. You apologize to the others and tell them, that you have to go to your boyfriend for a minute.

"Jimin? Is everything alright? What happens?", you als him, eyebrows drawn together in alarm.

"Y/N, can you come out of the water, please? I need to talk to you," Jimin replies shortly, looking at you intently.

"O-Okay, of course."

When you're about to step out of the water, he already starts to unfold your bath towel. As soon as you get out of the pool, he has put it over your shoulders and gripped your wrist. Without saying a word, he starts moving and pulls you to the door of the terrace and goes back into the house with you. Everything looks like that Jimin wants to drive home from the party prematurely and hastily.

"Jimin? Now tell me, what happened that you seem to want to go home just... now?!", you finally ask him, finding his behavior really questionable.

Your boyfriend just mumbles something incomprehensible, looks around in the hallway until he sprints up the stairs to the first floor with you.

"Jimin, we just can't-"

But the last words of your sentence get stuck in your throat when Jimin seems to have found what he was looking for all the time. The guest room.

He briefly looks around again to make sure that no one has followed you and noticed something about your unauthorized solo-action. Then he grabs the doorknob and quickly pulls you into the room and closes the door behind you.

You just want to start protesting again and ask him for a plausible answer for his behavior. But then you're already being pushed against the door and Jimin's hungry lips are chasing yours.

The kiss is intense and greedy right at the beginning, Jimin's tongue is demanding, doesn't give you any time to understand what's going on.

"Baby, how dare you! These things I said to you when you came out of the guest room in this beautiful and sexy summer dress, I meant them absolutely seriously. How dare you, despite of my warning, to tease me so fucking much?! Then you don't have to be surprised that I can't hold back anymore. And besides that...", growls Jimin in a husky voice between two kisses in your ear.

"...I hate it how all the boys just looked at you all the time. They're speculating whether you were already in a relationship and how they could flirt with you... don't you understand that every guy down there wants you because you're so damn sexy?"

"Wait what, Jimin? I-I don't understand..." you stammer helplessly, your mind is already clouded by these breathtaking kisses Jimin gave you.

Jimin takes a deep breath, acting like he's trying to calm himself down.

"Your bikini, Babygirl. With this damn bikini you drive me crazy and wrap every guy around your little finger without even noticing. Seeing you in such an outfit is a real sin, Baby...", he whispers in your ear.

Let the tip of his nose slide down your neck, inhale your scent, which has such an aphrodisiac effect on him. His hands find their way from your chubby cheeks down to your plush hips and grabs them firmly.

"Fuck, you're so sexy... I love you and your body so damn much that it hurts... I mean... literally!", he growls and rubs his already rock hard erection on your thick thigh.

"You look so damn sexy in this swimsuit and pretend that you have no idea what effect you have on me... and unfortunately also on these other guys down there... it's a shame! I think, I should show you what kind of indecent thoughts you've put in my head with this body, only covered by this little bit of fabric.", comes it panting from Jimin's lips.

He lets the wet towel drop from your shoulders onto the floor and steps a bit away from you to admire your whole beauty to the fullest. A shiver of desire runs down your spine, causing that something, that is all too familiar to you, starts growing in your abdomen. You start to squirm under his intense gaze.

"I'm really wondering who can be responsible for designing such a cute and at the same time so sexy swimsuit. And fuck. It looks incredibly good on you! How can you always wrapping me around your little finger? Hm Baby? Explain it to me...", purrs Jimin dreamily as he lets his hands wander on your big, perfect round ass and grabs it hard.

A whimper leaves your lips whe you feel his mouth on your neck, spreading kisses and is eager to give you enough hickey that everyone will surely see them. Just knowing that he marking you as his, as his girlfriend, makes your pussy even wetter than it already is.

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Jiminie~", you say teasingly, but at the same time you start moaning with closed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. He positions his right leg between your juicy thighs, flexes his thick thigh muscle just at the right moment and rubs it over your clit. Mastering thigh-fucking in a standing position so fucking well should be prohibited.

"Would you rather explain to me how I couldn't get horny and jealous at such a sight... and Baby? Do you like that? Do you like it how I fuck you with my thigh? How well I can stimulate your clit with it? I already can feel how wet you are... isn't that embarrassing for you, how desperate your pussy has become, just from grinding a little bit on my thigh?", he whispers. He doesn't even try to hide his satisfaction.

His words send an electric shock through your body... just the thought that you really look as good in the bikini as you hoped, so that Jimin can think of nothing more than to do dirty things with you. And then other guys also have noticed you, which has made Jimin so jealous, turns you more on at this moment than you would like to admit. You didn't want to make him jealous at all, but fuck... that's just so freaking hot and you could say your "plan" has more than worked out!

His hand travels to your breasts, pulls with a rough yank the top of your bikini over your breasts, a moan are leaving his lips when he see your big, beautiful breasts. Your nipples are already hard and are just waiting to be caressed.

"F-Fuck... Jimin... G-God... I-I need you!", you whimper as he wraps his lips around your left nipple. You grind in his thigh even more, at the end you start riding him.

"So damn desperate... but only for me. Right?"

"Yes, Jimin, yes! O-Only for you. B-But please, I-"

"Hm? What, Babygirl? What do you want? What are you so desperate for, my Dear? Tell me~"

Jimin loves to tease you. He doesn't give you what you need until you spell the dirty words out by yourself. He loves the way you get shy, always starting to stutter in a damn adorable way until those dirty words come over your own lips. He loves it when his good, decent girl says indecent and sinful things. He loves it when you talk dirty to him.

"I-I want your big hard cock in my wet pussy... I-I... Oh god, Jimin... P-Please just fuck me... Please just fuck me like you already imagined...", you whine and bite your lower lip because of all this desire and need in your body. You need his cock in your pussy now.

"Theoretically, you teased me a lot more with this godlike body, right? But we don't have the time for more teasing, I'll stuff your plump, pretty and sweet pussy with my big cock now and gonna fuck you so damn well~ Just look forward to the moment we're back home again... then you will get your well deserved punishment for making me so horny with this sinful outfit.", Jimin promised to you with a dark, lustful gaze.

With his hands on your delicious ass, he leads you from the door to the bed, which is placed on the opposite wall of the room.

"On your hands and feet, I want to fuck your naughty pussy nice and deep from behind. And you know how I loves it, to see your ass cheeks jiggle when I fuck you doggystyle~"

Oh God, now it can't be ans longer just water, that drips through the bottom of your panties onto the floor. Even if you don't want to admit it, his dirty talk and dominant behavior always makes a mess out of you.

In a matter of seconds, you turned your back to him and crawled onto the bed on all fours. For a very short moment you're sorry to ruin the neatly made bed with your still dripping body and the unrestrained sex, that will follow now.

As soon as you have brought yourself into a comfortable and "stable" position, Jimin pulls your bikini panties down with an impatient tug. You moan in anticipation when you feel the cold air on your bare cunt, even starts to wiggle with your ass a bit more, knowing what kind of effect it has on Jimin.

A deep growl leaves his throat when he sees your plump, fluffy pussy lips are coated all over with your arousal. The way your thick ass cheeks jiggle causes that he gives you a hard slap on the your right butt cheek, what makes you whimper.

"Behave, little Girl.", he says quietly from behind with a warning undertone.

But he doesn't fill your needy pussy immediately, he prefers to pull your ass cheeks apart at first, to have a much better view of your cunt. When he spreads your pussy lips with his index and middle finger open and sees your desperately waiting hole, clenching around nothing. Then he also lost his patience.

With uncoordinated movements of his hands, he pulls his shorts and boxers briefs down to his knees, grabs your hips with a firm grip and push himself into your tight pussy without any warning.

A little cry out of surprise and initial pain comes over your lips, but then you remember that you're having sex in a place where you shouldn't (especially not at this early hour!) and pressing your hands on your mouth quickly.

That’s better anyway. When Jimin fucks you hard, there are always noises coming out of your mouth that you never heard before from yourself.

In short: When Jimin fucks you hard, you're loud. Shamefully loud.

Your boyfriend doesn't give you much time to get used to his cock. But after these days you barely need to get used to it anyway, you have been doing it too often for the past few nights.

His thrusts are perfect, absolutely perfect... hard, fast and incredibly deep. Stretching your pussy just in the right way in all perfect places. And the more you can't hold up yourself on your arms because of the pleasure, the more you sag with your upper body onto the mattress.

This changes the angle even more and Jimin fills you up even deeper than before, finding that sweet spot in your body again. That spot that lets you see stars and the desire almost explodes deep inside your abdomen. But only almost.

This here is the best method for Jimin to torture you. Driving you to the edge of lust, but it's still not enough to let you cum.

Jimin loves this sight.

He loves how your chubby body just shows him how well he fucks you. How the soft, plush flesh of your love handles or your ass cheeks jiggle with every hard thrust that his hips gives your plush body.

How plump your pussy lips are, but how fucking tight your hole is, gripping his hard cock so damn well. He loves to places his palm between your thick thighs on your fluffy vulva, so soft because of that delicous extra flesh and toying your clit to elict even more sweet moans and whimpers from your lips.

"O-Oh my God, Jimin! P-Please don't stop, oh god, please don't stop fucking me and rubbing my clit like that! I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna c-cuu-", you moan, scream at the end, but you just can't stop yourself from being fucking loud.

And to be honest, Jimin doesn't want you to mute your voice. Deep inside of him, his little, dirty devil wants everyone down there to know that he's fucking you onto cloud nine.

When you cum, your walls contract so tightly, Jimin can't help but cum too, your pussy literally milks every drop of his cum out of his cock.

With a deep groan shoot Jimin his load deep into your pussy, mark you in the filthiest way possible as his girl.

You two are breathing heavily and have your eyes closed, Jimin lies himself down on your back. His hands slowly relax from the rigid grip on your hip, then he wraps his arms around your soft belly and lets himself fall to one side together with you, before he becomes too heavy for you.

In the following minutes your breath regulates themself and a certain silence gradually returns to the room. Only the dull bass of the music from outside breaks the silence, accompanied by laughter when someone jumps into the pool, screaming.

Jimin has softened and now slides out of you easily. You can feel the mattress sink under his weight as he gets up and goes into the guest bathroom to get a soft, wet washcloth for you.

He quietly asks you to turn yourself on your back. He gently opens your legs and carefully cleans the mess between your thighs, trying his best to get you rid of his cum. After all, you want to stay a few more hours after this... Quickie? Can you call his here a Quickie?

It takes a moment for you both to straighten your clothes and hair so that no one can immediately see that you had wild sex less than 15 minutes ago.

Jimin is about to unlock the door when you grab his wrist.

"Jimin, let's be honest. No more strange jealousy actions today, okay?"

Jimin turns to you, looks at you thoughtfully until a cute smirk forms on his lips.

"Jealousy? I don't know that word, not anymore after I've marked your beautiful neck and chest all in detail. Now everyone will know that you're my girl!", says Jimin and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You roll with your eyes and look back at him, pretty annoyed.

"Jimin!"

"Yes, yes, Honey. I know... I know that I have to work on my jealousy problem...", Jimin says in a reassuring voice and looks at you seriously, showing you, that he understood what you mean.

"... but still you can't deny that you like it when I give you hickeys. When I visited you last time, I saw you proudly and satisfied admired my love bites in the mirror!", he reply with a mischievous and playful smirk.

"Oh god Jimin, you're going to shatter my last nerves!", you grumble and shoo him through the door.

You hate it that you can barely be mad at him over a longer time!

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illeee-girl · 3 years

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La La(chimolala) Land Chapter Four: To the Hills

jimin x reader genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff word count: 2.5k warnings: none

[Inspired by La La Land]

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Read on Ao3

You wait on the sidewalk outside your apartment building, gazing up at the palm fronds directly towering over you and the electric blue sky beyond. Late spring in LA is usually nice, after the rainy season has finished—but this year's weather is phenomenal. If you weren't waiting on the car to come pick you up, you'd have headed for the hills hours ago. For a moment, you consider ditching. A picnic up the canyon sounds nice. After all, you do love your alone time.

But you've been anticipating this moment all weekend. So when the limo pulls up, you climb inside.

Is a limo really necessary? I'm just one person. But it doesn't seem like this Jimin guy does things halfway.

The driver takes the 405 up into the Valley, and ventures out onto Mulholland Drive. As you climb higher towards the cloudless sky, you take in the view below. It's a clear day; you can see for miles. You think back to your first meeting with Jimin. You have to look up, he'd said.

Now, you wonder why you were ever looking down.

You reach San Vincente Mountain Park, a picturesque spot perched atop a peak in the Santa Monica Mountains. The dirt road ahead has been blocked off, but a team of men arrive almost instantly to remove the barriers for you. Trailers, cameras, and lighting equipment are spread across the dusty mountain landscape. The driver opens the door for you—nice touch—and you step out of the limo.

"JIMIN-SSHI, SHE'S HERE!" You hear a voice yell.

The door to a trailer across the way bursts open with a dramatic flourish, and Jimin appears in the frame. His blonde hair is freshly washed and blow-dried, his makeup impeccably applied. He's dressed in a crisp, baby-blue suit that compliments the afternoon sky in a way that had to have been planned. The top few buttons of his white dress shirt are undone, and as he eagerly approaches you, you notice a tiny mole resting on his collarbone.

"Y/N! You're here! I'm glad you made it before we start filming—I can show you around a bit. Was the ride comfortable? I wanted a white limo but the service said they only had black available. Did you find the strawberries I put for you in the cooler? I was worried you wouldn't open it and find them there, so I wanted to put a sign, like a sticky note that said 'Hey, Y/N! Open here for strawberries!'—but Tae said that would be tacky, and I think he's right. Oh, and I hope you like strawberries. I hope you're not allergic. In The Parent Trap, Lindsey Lohan's allergic to strawberries. That's how I know it's a real possibility. You can learn so much from movies. Have you seen—"

"Jimin-ah, breathe." One of Jimin's bandmates appears behind him, slapping his back and stopping his monologue. "I'm sorry, Y/N. He gets chatty when he's nervous." He winks. "I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae."

"It's nice to meet you, Tae."

"That's Jungkook over there, downing donuts at craft service. He's the one who shouted when your limo pulled up."

"I am perfectly able to introduce her to Jungkook myself, hyung," Jimin defends.

"Yes," Tae responds, "but can you do it in less than eight thousand words?"

Jimin stares daggers at his bandmate, but quickly turns his attention back to you. "Come with me," he says, grabbing your arm to lead you. He lets go just seconds later, and looks as if he'd just reminded himself of something important. "You look great, by the way."

And he's right. You still feel terribly outclassed by him in the fashion department, but you spent a lot more time on your ensemble this time. It's warm out, so you paired a collared, pinstriped dress made of light cotton with a pair of wedge sandals. Walking along the dirt road makes you regret wearing open-toed shoes, but you can't help but notice that the blue of your dress exactly matches the blue of his suit. And with the vibrant California sky as a backdrop, you're both a picture in azure.

You make the traditional amount of small talk—how's your day, how was your weekend—as he leads you down a path and up some stairs to a viewing platform. From here, you can see both the Valley and LA: slopes and canyons, palm trees and sage brush, dirt roads and highways. You can certainly see more from up here than you could on top of City Hall.

You lean against the railing, and Jimin lags behind a bit before joining you. He doesn't seem too enthralled by the view beyond his immediate location.

"We always seem to find ourselves high up, huh?" You smile at him.

"We sure do," a grin tugs at his lips before he licks them nervously. "You're not . . . scared by being up here, are you? We can go back down."

"No, I'm fine." You assure him. "It's . . . beautiful up here."

"It is," he agrees—but he still isn't looking out towards the city. A gust of wind travels through his hair and shirt, reminding you again of the time you met. You feel the urge to grab his collar again—but why? You're not frightened.

In fact, you feel enchanted.

"So, what can I expect today?" You ask him.

"Oh, right," he says, remembering the reason you're here. "Well, we're filming a music video for our new album. The song's about flying high through life—above the chaos and noise of all the distractions—so we figured a mountain peak would be a good fit. Or, rather, the directors did. I don't get to make these decisions."

"Wait . . . is that why you were at City Hall? To shoot at a place high in the air?"

He nods. "As the video progresses, we travel higher and higher up."

"That's . . . way cool."

"As always, you have such a way with words, Y/N."

You smile. "I sure hope so. My entire dream depends on it."

He turns serious. "Well, you'll learn a lot today. We're going to film the parts of the song that we need to, and it'll take more than a couple of tries. You'll see us get flustered, and tired, and hungry, and frustrated. One of us may even get mad at another—it's been known to happen—but someone else will step in and help out."

"And are you usually the peacemaker around here, or the instigator?"

"I . . . opt not to answer that question."

"By refusing to respond, you answer it for me."

"That's only because you're highly intelligent." He moves closer to you.

"Not at all. It's common sense. People want to save face. They'll avoid saying anything that will make them look bad. I've studied this in my character development classes—I know."

"I don't doubt it." He half-whispers, getting closer still.

"And seeing as how you were such a chatterbox earlier when you were nervous, you probably get quiet and despondent when you're frustrated. They're quite different emotions—at least in my book—so you're bound to have converse responses."

"You already know me so well." His lips are inches from yours.

"JIMIN! WE START SHOOTING IN FIVE!" A yell interrupts.

"Ughhh," he whines. "Duty calls."

_________________________

In what seems like a flash, Jimin is in front of the cameras. It's a real "Avengers Assemble" moment, except with seven extremely attractive Korean men dressed in suits. Tae's in navy, and Jungkook—who seems to be the star of the show—is in white. You're unsure of the others' names; there was no time for introductions like Jimin had planned.

They line up in a v-formation with Jungkook at the helm. Jimin's near the back . . .

But you cannot, for the life of you, take your eyes off of him as he starts dancing.

It's anything but a simple dance. The song has a steady, powerful beat—and Jimin follows it exactly. Every part of him is moving: feet, shoulders, hips . . . you cannot stop watching his hips.

You brought your favorite notebook and pen, planning to absorb as much as you can for your research. But not a lot gets written down. What words could you even use to describe it? Enthralling? Entrancing? Mesmerizing?

How about just sexy?

Woah, you tell yourself. Stop it. You can do this. Focus.

They do about five takes of the dance. A few of them sing along with the backing track (they'd recorded the song beforehand so they would have something to dance to), but Jimin isn't one of them. They take breaks in between to swig some water, and the makeup artists come out of the shadows to freshen the boys' looks. By the fifth take, the directors are fairly satisfied with the results—but Jimin doesn't seem to be.

"I don't think I'm hitting the beat quite right when Jin starts singing," he says. He crouches behind the camera equipment to watch the playback. "Yup. Right there. I'm coming in late."

"Jimin-ah, you've been dancing perfectly," says one of the taller ones. He seems to be the leader of the group. "If the film crew doesn't see a problem, I think we can move on to the next shot."

"One more try, Namjoon-ah. Please," Jimin pleads.

You watch as Jimin practically writhes in discomfort. He nervously pulls at his fingers and runs his hands through his hair as he watches the playback over and over again. What's going through his head is as clear as day to you.

He's being much, much too hard on himself.

You're unsure of how to approach him. You feel out of place among all these professionals—you're just some random, nerdy screenwriter, after all—but you want to help him.

Your feet start moving before your brain realizes what you're doing. You emerge from your comfortable spot in the background and walk towards the camera station. He sees you approaching out of the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. You stop in your tracks, sheer panic hitting you like a semi-truck. What do I say to him? You manage a weak, shy smile.

And he matches it with a grin: one that holds the power to explode any heart.

"Very well," Jimin says to Namjoon. "Let's move on."

The team quickly shoots the scene for one of the rapper's parts, and then it's time for Jimin's solo at the bridge of the song. The hair and makeup team has altered his look just a little bit; the suit jacket has come off, and a few more of the buttons on his dress shirt have been popped. He struts out of his trailer, spotting you waiting off to the side.

"I'm sorry for all the wait. But at least now you know that the industry requires a lot of patience."

You force your eyes to leave his bare chest. "It's okay. I'm learning a lot." Only half a lie.

"That's awesome." A long pause ensues. His eyes travel downwards. "It's . . . it can be intense. I wish—"

"Park Jimin! Get up to that viewing platform, now!" Interrupted again.

He cringes. "I'm sorry this keeps happening."

A director walks up, and proceeds to literally drag Jimin away from you.

You trail behind the posse, struggling to keep up in your wedges. You clutch your notebook to your chest. What was he about to say? He wishes . . . he wishes what? Thoughts swirl through your head, and excitement swirls through your stomach.

Focus up, you tell yourself. You review the minimal notes you've taken on the band members—just a page of bullet points—as you walk. Supportive of one another. Self-deprecating to a fault. Busy as can be . . .

You stand on the fringe of the film crew as Jimin readies himself for his solo. He does a few vocal exercises and stretches, and even takes a few moments to do some deep breathing. After a few minutes, he says: "I'm ready."

You, however, are not ready for what he's about to do.

There's no dancing this time. His job is pretty much just to walk across the viewing platform, lean against the railing a bit, and sing his part of the bridge. It's a beautiful scene, but next to what you witnessed earlier, it seems underwhelming—at first.

But then he opens his mouth.

It's your first time hearing him sing—and you are again at a loss for words. You can't imagine a sound clearer, a voice more beautiful. It's a voice with the power to caress you gently, to bring you to tears, to take you to places unexplored. The pure emotion he puts into it is unparalleled.

If I could capture this feeling in my writing, you think, I would be the most renowned screenwriter in the world.

It takes him about an hour to get it "just right," but every single take sounds like perfection to you. When he's finally finished, he downs a bottle of water and uses a towel to dry the beads of sweat forming along his hairline and collarbone. He's exhausted; clearly, he's not used to the heat. His face goes white, and he looks like he might pass out.

But you catch his eye, and he summons up enough strength to climb down the stairs to talk to you.

"Jimin, that . . ." you stumble over yourself, averting his gaze. "There are no words."

"There had better be. Your dream depends upon it, remember?"

"There's no way I can capture what you just did."

He glances down at the ground, kicking a pebble, hands in his pockets. His smile makes another appearance, the color returning to his face.

"Jimin," you start. He looks up. "Earlier, outside your trailer, you started to say something. Something about wishing . . ."

Suddenly, panic fills his eyes. "Look at the time, Y/N!"

You notice he's not wearing a watch.

He starts leading you down the path back to the main setup. "You must be getting hungry. I'll have the car take you back home. You've been up here all day—you've probably sunburned. Later, I can show you some skincare products that I swear by. J-Hope and Yoongi and I love to do face masks together. It's great bonding time, you know?" By the time you reach the road, the limo is there waiting. "Text me and let me know you got home safe. I hope you learned a lot today—you're going to be a great screenwriter someday."

He stuffs you into the limo, closes the door, and walks off.

During your descent back into LA, you feel deflated and disappointed. What the crap was that? He'd almost kissed me earlier . . . what changed since then?

Besides Jimin's enigmatic goodbye, the only words that run through your mind on the trip home are those Tae had said to you:

He gets chatty when he's nervous.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #park jimin #park jimin x reader #park jimin fanfiction #jimin #bts jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfic #jimin fic #inspired by La La Land #La La(chimolala) Land

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crackedoutgiraffe · 4 years

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To the Moon and Back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

A/N: Chapter 8

You woke up the next morning feeling a pit in your stomach. By 8 o’clock tonight you were going to be on a “date” with Spencer. First, you had to meet everyone at the station. You got ready in your dress pants and blouse, fixed your hair, and put on minimal makeup.

When you left your room you saw Prentiss standing outside of JJ’s room, “Good morning, Y/N,” Prentiss was very happy this morning. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Not really,” you sighed, “I mean I’ve been undercover before, but then I could have a gun on me.”

“Yeah, you’re going dress shopping later right?”

“I am,” you smiled. JJ opened the door right as you were about to speak, “Good Morning, JJ.”

She looked surprised to see you and Prentiss outside her room this early, “Good Morning to you too.”

“Are you ready to go?” Prentiss asked JJ.

“Yeah, I am,” JJ smiled. “Y/N, do you want to ride to the station with us.”

It felt nice knowing that they wanted to be around you, “Sure.” The three of you made your way to the elevator and then to the SUV. JJ offered to drive, so you sat in the back. You all talked the entire drive to the station. You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt. When you pulled into the station parking lot, you saw Reid and Morgan waiting outside. You, JJ, and Prentiss all got out of the SUV laughing. As you walked toward the door Reid and Morgan’s attention shifted toward the three of you.

“Good morning, boys,” JJ said happily.

“Good Morning,” Reid responded.

The three of you continued to walk inside, “Y/N, can you wait out here for a second?” Morgan asked.

“Sure,” you turned around and headed back toward them.

“Hotch should be out here any second,” Morgan said, and right on queue, Hotch walked out and toward the three of you. “There he is.”

“Morgan, what did Garcia find about the connection between the jewelers and the restaurant?” Hotch looked as stern as ever.

“She found that three of the employees at the restaurant worked at jewelers all throughout the city,” Morgan explained.

“Ok, Reid, you and Morgan are going to go to the jewelry stores and look at engagement rings,” Hotch started to explain what was going to happen today, “make sure that if anyone helps you, show them a picture of Y/N and how old she is.”

“Ok,” Reid nodded.

“Also, mention that you’re going to dinner tonight at Isla Flavorosa,” Hotch continued. “Y/N, you are going dress shopping today, you have $500 dollars to work with, I’m going to have Rossi go with you.”

“Ok, when am I going?” you asked, nodding.

“We have more information for the board, so get that up and then you can head out.” Hotch nodded.

You went up the stairs after that and headed inside. You quickly got the information up on the board in an organized manner. It was pretty much just stuff you went over yesterday. When you were done you got Rossi and headed for the SUV. He drove you to a boutique not that far away.

When you walked in, one of the workers came up and greeted the two of you, “Good morning,” she was so perky, “My name is Jessica, how can I help you two today?”

“Agent David Rossi, FBI, This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” Rossi was quick with his badge, the girl’s face dropped.

“I need a dress and shoes for tonight,” you smiled at the frightened girl, “perfectly tailored and all that jazz.”

“We have a seamstress in house who can get it fitted once you pick a dress out,” she seemed to relax, knowing that she wasn’t in trouble. “What kind of dress are you looking for?”

“Something simple, yet elegant,” you giggled, “and black preferably.”

“We keep all of our black dresses over here,” she pointed to a section of the store, “Why don’t you pick out a few while I set up a dressing room for you?” you nodded and walked the way she pointed.

“There is no need to scare her, Rossi,” you teased.

He sighed, “Pick your dresses,” he was doing that sly smile that he tends to do.

You had an idea of what you wanted but didn’t know if you’d find it. You were looking for a black dress with a high slit or side-cutouts, that hugged your curves. There was no need to look at the ball gowns, but they were really pretty. You grabbed three dresses that caught your eye and brought them over to Jessica.

“Let me write down the designers and the numbers for you really quick,” she said, you handed her the dresses and she looked at all the tags. “Portia and Scarlett PS6376, La Femme 28569, and Sherri Hill 53332, you can try these on in there.”

“Thank you,” You walked over to the dressing room with your name on it. The first dress you tried on was the La Femme one. It was a lace, off the shoulder, almost mermaid gown. It fit you perfectly. You walked out of the dressing room and you looked in the mirror.

“You look wonderful,” Rossi said, almost as if he were your dad.

“I don’t know,” turning to look at the back, you frowned, “It’s a little much.”

“Go try on the others,” he motioned you toward the dressing room. You got off the platform and walked into the dressing room again. This time trying on the Sherri Hill dress. This one was strapless and had a high slit with a few jewels right above it.

“I really like this one,” you pulled the base of the dress up and climbed the few steps to the mirrors. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a little bit, turning to see different angles. “Ok,” you breathed out while walking down the stairs and back to the dressing room. Taking off the dress, you held it up and smiled, then hung it up again. The last dress you wanted to try on was a black glittery dress, it didn’t have a back and had a high slit. “This one is a lot,” you looked at the dress with a frown. It was extremely beautiful but it was a bit much for dinner. You turned to look at Jessica, “I’ll take the second one.”

“Ok, I’ll get the seamstress,” she smiled, “Can you put the dress back on?”

“Yeah, of course,” you went back to the dressing room and put on the gorgeous dress. Leaving the dressing room you saw a lady standing there with pins and a seamstress’s measuring tape. She pinned back parts of the dress that needed to be tightened and then you took it off. You grabbed your normal clothes and put them back on. “Alright let’s find some shoes,” you smiled at Rossi, who sighed. You walked to the shoe section and looked at some of the heels that they had. There were three shoes that really caught your eye. The ones that you liked the most were the Michael Kors Antonia Sandal in a dark gray color. You tried them on and they were oddly comfortable. You put them back into the box and walked over to the counter.

Jessica rang up the shoes and typed the dress number in, “Your total comes out to be $575.”

“Oh, um- let me pick out a different pair.” You grabbed the shoes and turned to walk away when you saw Rossi standing behind you.

“What’s wrong?” Rossi asked.

You’re face dropped, you didn’t want to bring him into this, “The shoes are too expensive,” you explained. “Hotch gave me $500, and the total was $575.”

He patted you on the shoulder and pulled out his wallet, “Let me cover the overage.”

“No, I can’t make you do that,” you sighed.

“It’s fine,” he smiled, “It’s only $75.”

You smiled at the man’s kindness. The store phone started to ring and Jessica answered and hung up shortly after, “the seamstress is done with your dress. I’ll be back in a minute.” She left and came back quickly with your dress in a bag. You tried it on one last time and it fit perfectly. You and Rossi left shortly after and headed back to the station. On the drive back you had a feeling that you were missing something.

Morgan and Reid were in the conference room when you walked in, “how was dress shopping, Princess?” Morgan chuckled as you walked in with a dress bag and shoe box.

“It was good,” you smiled. “How was ring shopping?”

“I now see why women love jewelry so much,” Reid smiled. The four of you talked about the case and the people at the jewelry store who seemed suspicious. Once five o’clock rolled around you dismissed yourself to head to the hotel to do your hair and makeup. You curled your hair and pulled back some front pieces for a half-up-half-down. Your makeup consisted of a smokey eye, neutral lip, and basic face makeup. Driving back to the station, it felt weird to think that you are being paid to go to dinner and get kidnapped. You arrived back at the station and found all the guys in suits and JJ and Prentiss were still in pantsuits. You grabbed your dress and shoes and headed to the bathroom, changing quickly.

When you exited the bathroom Rossi was standing outside, waiting for you, “You look absolutely stunning, Y/N.” He kissed your hand, “Wait till Reid sees you,” He winked at you with the last statement. What did that mean?

You two walked back to the conference room. When you entered Morgan’s jaw dropped, Hotch’s jaw dropped and Reid was facing the whiteboard.

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” Morgan was baffled with how you cleaned up so well. When he said that Reid turned around and just stared at you.

“Do you have a way to carry your badge?” Hotch asked.

“That’s what I forgot,” you sighed, “a clutch, yeah I don’t think I can carry anything.”

“Ok, Reid?” Hotch tried getting boy genius’s attention.

He was still staring at you, but snapped out of it when he heard his name, “Yeah, Hotch.”

“You cannot bring a gun into the restaurant, you won’t be able to carry it without someone seeing it.”

“So we are going to be kidnapped without weapons?” You were confused at how they wanted you to do such a dangerous task.

“Unfortunately yes, Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, and I are going to be in the restaurant with you, and Rossi will be outside with some cops.”

You nodded, “What time is our reservation?”

Reid checked his watch, “7:30.”

“We should get going then.”

“We have a car for you two,” Hotch added, “we don’t want you looking so official.” Hotch tossed Reid the keys, you nodded. Reid offered you his arm and you interlocked your arm with his and walked out to the car.

“I’m driving,” Reid smiled at you with that lovely smile of his.

“You sure?”

“Y/N, we have to pretend that we’re in love for this to work.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “Yeah, pretend.” Luckily, Reid was too socially awkward to realize what your statement meant.

You two drove in silence, but it didn’t feel like it. There were so many things going on in your head that it felt like you two were having a conversation. Reid stopped at the front of the restaurant. He turned the car off and got out, he walked around to your side and opened your door, helping you out of the car. He handed the keys to the valet and led you inside, “The valet was one of the people at the jewelry store today,” he whispered into your ear. You nodded as you slowly approached the front desk, “Reservation for Spencer Reid,” he was completely different tonight, more masculine.

“This is a very nice restaurant,” You looked around at the decor and made eye contact with your team members.

“Yeah, a special place for a special girl,” He held your hand from across the table and stared into your eyes. Is he pretending to be in love? The waiter came over and filled up your wine glasses before asking if you were ready to order. You requested a few more minutes as you hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. The restaurant had received praise for their spaghetti carbonara.

The waiter came back five minutes later, “Did you have enough time to look at the menu?”

You smiled, “I’ll have the spaghetti carbonara, Spencer?”

“I’ll have the steak, medium-rare.” He turned his attention back toward you as the waiter walked away.

“So, what did you do today, honey?” He seemed taken aback by the name you’d called him.

“Work was boring, like usual,” he sat up straighter and was looking at something behind you.

“Are you closing the account with MetLife soon?” you had heard your mother talk about stuff like that when you were a kid.

He nodded, “There is a man staring at us from the kitchen,” he said without moving his lips.

“Ok, don’t make a big deal out of it,” you signaled Morgan to the mysterious man. Your food came quickly. “Do you see anyone else from the jewelry stores?” you asked.

He turned his attention back toward you, “No, I think we’re good.”

“That’s good,” you smiled. “So, your mom called me today and we had a lovely conversation.”

Reid tried to figure out how you could possibly know his mom before realizing that you were acting. “And what would that be about?”

“She was asking me what my dream wedding would look like,” you smiled, still trying to eat your food.

“What a weird thing for my mom to ask you,” he was smiling into his food.

“How’s your steak?”

“Good, really good, actually!” he was acting really weird, being all shady.

“Why are you so nervous, honey?” you were still acting.

“It’s nothing,” he smiled. “How is your spaghetti carbonara?”

“It’s good, some of the best I’ve had.” “One of my friends, David Rossi, do you remember him?” he asked calmly.

“I met him at Derek’s party right?” This is fun, being all secretive.

“Yeah. He makes a really good spaghetti carbonara,” he was looking at you like you were dying. “I’ll see if he’ll have us over some time.”

You giggled, “Do you have any interesting facts about spaghetti carbonara?”

“There are many theories for the origin of the name carbonara, which is likely more recent than the dish itself. Since the name is derived from Carbonaro, some believe the dish was first made as a hearty meal for Italian charcoal workers. In parts of the United States, this etymology gave rise to the term "coal miner's spaghetti". It has even been suggested that it was created as a tribute to the Carbonari secret society prominent in the early, repressed stages of Italian unification in the early 19th century. It seems more likely that it is an "urban dish" from Rome, perhaps popularized by the Roman restaurant of the same name. The names pasta alla carbonara and spaghetti alla carbonara are unrecorded before the Second World War; notably, it is absent from Ada Boni's 1930 La Cucina Romana. The carbonara name is first attested in 1950, when it was described in the Italian newspaper La Stampa as a dish sought by the American officers after the Allied liberation of Rome in 1944. It was described as a "Roman dish" at a time when many Italians were eating eggs and bacon supplied by troops from the United States. In 1954, it was included in Elizabeth David's Italian Food, an English-language cookbook published in Great Britain.” you thought it was cute when he rambled.

The waiter came back to collect your plates and asked if you were interested in dessert, you both declined. Reid paid for the meal and you two left. When you left the restaurant, it felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees from before. The valet had left to get your car and you started to shiver.

“Are you cold?” Reid asked tenderly.

“Yeah, who knew it could get so chilly in LA?”

He took off his suit jacket and put it on your shoulders, “it’s normally in the low 50s at night.”

The valet came back with the car and walked around to Spencer to give him the keys. You felt something in your back, and Spencer’s face dropped, “Get in the car or I shoot her,” he demanded. There was a gun to your back, the valet was the unsub. Reid quickly walked around to the other side while the valet put you in the back of the car, still pointing a gun at you, “follow my instructions and no one gets hurt.” Reid followed the instructions to a T. The unsub had him drive in circles for a while and then to an abandoned property in the city. He dragged you out of the car and forced Spencer out with the gun. He led you inside and to the basement. He put chains on your legs and zip ties on your wrists, doing the same to Spencer, before heading back upstairs.

“Are you ok?” Spencer asked you calmly.

“Yeah, how about you?” you were still trying to grasp what was happening.

He breathed a sigh of relief, “I’m ok.”

“You won’t be in a minute,” the unsub said from the top of the stairs.

“What do you want with us?” Reid was breathing really heavily, his hair had gotten really messed up, it was cute.

“It’s not you I want,” He looked disappointed with Reid’s question, “it’s her that I want.” He walked toward you with a menacing grin. “Do what I say, and we can live together forever,” he breathed on your neck.

“What do you want?” you spat.

The unsub held a gun out for you, “Shoot him,” he handed you the gun while keeping his hand on it.

“What?” you were completely taken aback, “You want me to shoot my boyfriend?”

“Shoot him or I shoot you,” he hissed in your ear, loud enough for Reid to hear. Reid was completely taken aback.

You grabbed the gun and pointed it at Spencer who looked mortified, “No.” you lowered the gun, and you felt a stinging pain on your face when the unsub slapped you.

“Do it,” he raised the gun with your hands still on it. “Do it, and I won’t kill you.”

You felt a single tear go down your cheek, “No.”

“You ignorant slut!” the unsub shouted at you before grabbing the gun and stomping back up the stairs.

Tears were now flowing down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry,” you repeated over and over again,

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” Reid was trying to calm you down. You silently sobbed for what felt like forever before the unsub came down again.

“Wanna try this again, princess?” He held the gun out to you.

“I won’t do it,” you tried making yourself seem bigger and stronger than you actually were.

“Fine, then.” The unsub aimed the gun at you and you closed your eyes knowing what was about to happen. You heard a gunshot and felt a stinging pain in your side. Before you opened your eyes you heard a scream and another gunshot.

“Reid,” you shouted, “Reid, answer me! Are you okay?”

You felt someone pull you into their lap, “Yeah I’m okay,” he was brushing your hair out of your face

“Reid, I think I'm going to take a little nap, ok?” you calmly said, feeling your body starting to give out.

“No, hold on just a little longer, the team is almost here,” his voice was really calming.

You put your hand up to his face, he pulled you closer. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours. After you pulled away, you smiled and felt your body go limp. Everything went black.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

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Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot

Hi to anyone reading,

Where TF has the time gone!?

After experiencing the longest January of all time (when your birthday is right after New Year, you get that between Boxing Day before NYE slump like a couple of weeks after everyone else), February has gone by in, like, 5 minutes and already we’re well into the throes of the F/W 2021 collection presentations. Meanwhile, I’m here like! Surprise! Here are my reviews of the S/S 2021 collections if anybody still cares! I mean I’m mashing it up with corresponding haute couture week reviews to fool everyone into thinking that doing it so many months later was intentional and it was totally working right up until this sentence, right?

In all fairness, I originally thought that I wasn’t going to bother reviewing S/S21 because it seemed kinda redundant given the circumstances and I wasn’t keen on the idea of collections being showcased via photo sets which is the route so many brands chose to (understandably) go down. Buuuut, the more I saw of what designers had put out there, the more I was tempted to put this post together and now here I am. The fact that designers are even able to churn pieces out during a pandemic when I’m out here like 0__0 no thoughts, head empty...it’s impressive to say the least, especially the way so many used the circumstances to inform their designs. In a way, it would be a disservice not to do a post on the season, and yeah it’s late, but given that it we are actually about to enter spring and the shows are kind of the deciders of what’s going to be “in” and “out”, they’re more relevant than ever. With plans for our way out of lockdown materialising-now is the perfect time to add that I don’t want ANYONE suddenly developing selective amnesia over how our government has failed us now that Boris has announced when the clubs COULD reopen-let this post serve as a roundup of every bit of inspiration available for our spring fits. I also want to use this opportunity to disclose how irritated I am at myself for starting the previous fashion week reviews post by declaring I was going to work through the designers in chronological order when I meant fucking alphabetical because I now can’t go back and change that. So this time, let me start properly. I’m going to be reviewing the collections in ALPHABETICAL order. Now that’s out the way, let’s do it. First, Acne:

It’s so great to start on a high, it really is, and fortunately Acne is reliably good. It’s still got that deconstructed, minimalist feel that the brand is known for but for the summer season; we can see creative director Jonny Johansson and his team moving away from the heavier pieces we saw last time round, away from upcycled bohemian curtains and towards a breezier, more season appropriate aesthetic, boujee kaftans and swimwear rebelliously hacked up and artfully rearranged, and it feels correct. The net pieces, the beachy colour palette, the oil spill-esque print (though this represents an intruder of the marine ecosystem, as a print I loveee it and 100% want more!) and the accessories, reminiscent of shells, coral and anything else you might find on the seabed, give me a hipster mermaid washed ashore vibe which completely fits with that rugged, mysterious sense of Nordic folklore references and adventure the brand has established as its foundation. If it’s a nod to some kind of new age cult that Johansson was going for, which apparently is the case, I’m guessing said cult worship sea goddesses and perform pagan rituals on the beach by moonlight, and though indoctrination doesn’t sound at all inviting, it's a party compared to scientology.

The chiffon trousers here are actually chic and seeing them styled under a blazer makes me realise done right they CAN be more than just a PrettyLittleThing summer sale piece, so I’ll store that away for outfit inspo when the time to get rid of some layers comes around. The glasses, too, are very Gucci. Flip flops with socks I don’t think I can ever come round to but-

Whilst it was a favourite of mine last season and it sticks to that same bohemian vibe with a lot of the elements I love, Ferretti lacks a little oomph this time round; it’s more stripped back, neutral, easy-going, and it is lovely, but for those same reasons it doesn’t grab my attention as much as the past couple of collections have. If you’re an influencer wanting to shoot a Joshua Tree desert lookbook this is sublime, but compared to the flair I saw in their last winter show, for example, there’s something lacking.

I’m very glad to see neutral coloured boiler suits on the runway, however; I snagged myself one off Depop the other week so I might be unintentionally ahead of the curve for once! The crochet detail dresses are nice too but very much remind me of past Zimmerman collections, or an Ermanno Scervino grab for the most high street friendly parts of Erdem SS2020, something along those lines. What I’m trying to say is that it’s definitely been there done that, even by Ferretti themselves and not in a continuity kinda way, in a kinda…this is basic and pretty so we know it will sell kinda way.

Eurgh, I wanna be one of these Alessandra Rich girls so bad.

I end up repeating myself every single time because I always love her collections but really, this is what a high fashion novice thinks Chanel is. Alessandra Rich outsold. As much as her dresses have looked amazing on people like Kate Middleton and January Jones, I’m just waiting for one of the modern it-girls to take the nostalgia-tinged femininity of her pieces and put some kind of daring, street-style twist on it; if that doesn’t happen I’ll gladly take 5 minutes of fame so I can do it before fading back into obscurity. Let me fulfil my modern first lady fantasy, reenact the croquet scene from Heathers, drape myself on a chaise lounge whilst smoking with a cigarette holder, and then throw me back into the trash where I belong. I can die happy. Also, can we once again appreciate how much more iconic the Alessandra Rich two piece made the already moment Dakota Johnson singlehandedly brought down the Ellen dynasty?

Dakota knew exactly what she was gonna do and the energy that she was gonna channel when she wore that piece and I admire it. Alessandra Rich, if nothing else, will go down as a key moment in pop culture history, and you know what? It’s what she deserves.

Whilst I do wish she’d branch out a little and try and get back in touch with the dark drama of old McQueen collections now and again, Sarah Burton has made a very recognisable Alexander McQueen silhouette and it’s beautiful; this season is gorgeous as always. A leather biker and tulle affair that’s perfect for a grunge ballet, it’s easy to avoid lamenting the excitement and theatrics of old collections when Sarah creates such consistently sophisticated pieces. Stunning.

Now, a quick haute couture detour with Alexandre Vauthier:

Compared to other haute couture collections, this is pretty toned down and by appearances alone (I know haute couture is more about meeting technical requirements more than anything else but there is a level of grandiose you expect to see) is more like a RTW collection than its counterparts. That being the case, I don’t have a huge amount to say about this one, though I do really like it-the ruched metallic boots especially. The Studio 54 vibes and the glam rock influences are clear and a lot of these pieces could definitely make it into Lady Gaga’s AHS Hotel wardrobe which is a compliment of the highest order, so there ya go. Plus, if a collection IS gonna be presented through stills, a format like this is preferable to some of the others I’m gonna talk about. There may be more exciting ways of doing it but simple allows us to see the clothes properly and at the end of the day, that’s what I care about the most!

Heading back to good ole’ RTW, we have Altuzarra; I wasn’t hugely keen on their last collection but this is definitely a step up for me and justifies keeping them on my radar. Though in some ways this seems like less of a summer collection and more of a late winter/early spring transitional one on the basis it can’t seem to decide which temperature its catering to, there’s a lot to like: a colour palette that reminds me of a Dion Lee collection, harnesses evocative of those sprinkled throughout the last few Alexander McQueen shows, and more of the utility wear trend that I’m still very much into nicely contrasted against lighter, airier pieces for an overall fresh, modern vibe. The interpretive dancewear style pieces are interesting and the woven platform sandals are the shoe of the summer but the white shirt with the cape incorporated is definitely the high point of this show and I absolutely adore it.

Anna Sui was actually pretty cute this time round. Her pieces have always been kooky, but in the past a little too lairy and occasionally cheap-looking for me. This collection, however, is kooky in more of a Melanie Martinez styled baby doll kinda way, as opposed to in an eccentric Bjork loving aunt whose idea of heaven is an all-must-go Primark sale kinda way (I know some people are going to vehemently disagree with my aesthetic preference there) and I love that. There seems to be a lot more creative direction going on, a much clearer vision of what Sui wanted to achieve, and yes a few of the looks went a bit too hard on the cookie cutter vibes but on the whole, they were more edited than usual; it seems Sui actually paid attention to the “take one thing off before you leave the house” rule this time. The staging is the perfect compliment to the doily style bucket hats and the sandals paired with frilly socks, and really adds to the whimsy of the collection, and as a whole, it really reminds me a lot of the way my mum would dress me as a toddler but styled up for a grown adult. Cute AF.

Armani RTW I was pleasantly surprised by, considering I don’t usually rate it. It’s a cool, androgynous take on retro shapes and styles that’s simultaneously fit for the hustle and bustle of the modern world. Strong 2021 Peggy Olsen vibes, and a bit muted Lacoste-I can 100% imagine Elisabeth Moss as Peggy swanning around in one of those huge minimalist houses with the floor to ceiling windows after a long day at work, though we’ll switch the cigarette for a vape because...you know...welcome to the future. And sure, maybe the vision is slightly influenced by THAT scene from Us, but whatever. As for the men’s wear, if I have to look through an endless gallery of straight white men in plain ass suits every time I do some kind of red carpet fashion review, I at least hope they’re wearing Armani. I need me some impeccable tailoring to soften the blow.

I do wonder, however, how the clothes would look on plus size models. I feel like it’s a collection that’s very catered to a person who is straight up and down, and it feels like a bit of an easy cop out not to have any kind of versatility. Say what you want about Christian Siriano but he caters to all body types very well.

I actually quite liked Armani’s haute couture collection too; the pops of colour and the intricate embroidery give me what I’ll later talk about missing from Valentino haute couture. There were still some of the frumpier pieces that I usually associate Armani with but also a lot of Great Gatsby-esque looks that I really enjoyed.

Returning to RTW, Ashish was amazing. I LOVE that there’s always some kind of unique print (this time round, kitschy illustrations) and whilst a whole maxi swan print dress may not be the most wearable for the majority of us, Ashish Gupta does bold and innovative really well. There were a few boring striped pieces in there but I adore the one shouldered butterfly print dress and I NEED that Hail Satan jumper; it reminds me a lot of something by sustainable fashion brand Minga, which is one of my absolute fave websites to buy from when I’m treating myself to some new clothes.

Azarro’s haute couture collection is full of supreme awards show afterparty fits, and I was shook to find out that Olivier Theyskens is the brand’s creative director! My newfound obsession with his pieces really had me like :O when I realised he was behind Azarro too. I loved their collection last time round, though this I’m finding a bit harder to give much analysis on because of the way it’s shot; whilst it could be a YSL perfume Vogue ad, which is obviously far from a bad thing, it comes at the cost of lacking visual clarity. That being said, from what I can see, Theyskens once again masterfully channels the wardrobe of the effortlessly cool, messy haired, smudged eye make up rock ‘n roll girl, and I think that’s someone we all want to be.

Balenciaga RTW was an interesting one for me-on first inspection, I was kinda disappointed. Without the usual drama of the bold, exaggerated silhouettes and the theatrical production of their shows, I felt it was missing a bit of the magic I’ve come to expect from them. The streetwear elements infused throughout, a departure from their typical pieces, was very hit and miss; the shearling slip-ons in particular were not my thing at all. I’d be admiring some beautiful gothic dress and then my eyes would slide down and see those monstrosities and it would bring the whole thing down a notch or two, despite bad shoes being something I can typically overlook if I otherwise enjoy the rest of the outfit. My initial conclusion: that the Balenciaga Myrtle Snow would choose as her last words this collection.

However, upon re-evaluation when typing this post up properly and knowing what to expect, I like the collection a lot. I’m getting a bit of a Seoul streetwear vibe from it, and I can appreciate that although it is a lot more trend focussed, it’s got an edgy, daring quality to it, with a lot of androgynous, utility wear elements on show. I loveee the Balenciaga chokers too and in my wildest dreams would get my hands on one before it goes the way of the Gucci belt and gets overdone and flaunted by social media influencers as a show of wealth to the point of tackiness.

At Balmain the sculpted body armour made a comeback but on this occasion, not in a way that I liked, and there war far too many neons for my taste too. No matter how many times it rears its ugly head, I find it hard to get on board because as a colour palette I can’t help but associate with Claire’s Accessories circa 2007-it has to be SO well done to avoid looking cheap, imo, and these Balmain pieces weren’t good enough for me to go against that gut aversion. A collection with 100+ looks isn’t usually a good sign and expecting Olivier Rousteing to achieve the impossible and manage to do both quality and quantity is a recipe for disaster; it’s a shame because his last collection was so original and yet this one feels like a cheaper looking rip off of other brands. It was just a bawdy display of 80s overkill IMO and if I can only find 8 outfits to include out of 100 that’s clearly not a good sign.

Bottega Veneta is a brand that the high fashion side of the internet loves that I can never 100% get on board with; I get it, they’re behind the gorgeous square toed heels, but other than that none of their collections have ever really wowed me. The chunky knitted pieces are very Miu Miu style futuristic grandma chic and as someone on the cusp of being either a millennial or gen Z (depending on which website you visit) it’s got me outfit planning for my retirement years. Utilising so much wool for a summer collection, however, seems like a choice because can you IMAGINE wearing a heavy knit in blazing sun; I almost didn’t include the collection to be honest but then every so often something really cute came long, and one of the signature crisp, classic BV pieces would be done well and so I felt I had to. Am I missing something given all the hype here? IDK tbh.

Burberry? Meh. You could also call this collection how many ways can I do a trench coat, with results of differing quality; occasionally the mix match of styles worked and I saw the deconstructed outerwear concept that Ricardo Tisci was presumably trying to go for, though it can’t come as much of a surprise that the combination of a trench, denim and leather jacket was mostly just messy and came off as a last ditch attempt to make the classic coat more interesting by just chucking other fabrics at it and seeing what stuck.

One thing I will say is that there were some really sick prints going on-the snakes in particular-and it was those prints that were really the saving grace of the collection; as I said with regards to Ashish, I like it when you can tell a brand has gone out of their way to experiment with patterns and actually incorporate illustration and graphic design into their pieces. Prints notwithstanding, though, it wasn’t a memorable collection and I really can’t wait for the day we put this whole multiple denim jean waistband trend to bed once and for all; in the wise words of Regina George “stop drying to make multiple waist bands happen. They’re not going to happen.”.

Carolina Herrera was just as I expected. Whilst Wes Gordon was a little more daring with the structure of the pieces than usual, you can still he’s still committed to designing for the wealthy, modestly dressed socialite (yes I’m talking about Tinsley Mortimer and yes, I have recently become obsessed with Real Housewives) and her insatiable need to collect more charity gala gowns than she’ll ever possibly have opportunities to wear in her time on this earth. Sounds like a great life, sure, but it’s not like it gets my heart racing when I see the looks on the runway. The most memorable piece for sure was double breasted blazer w the asymmetric ruffle; I haven’t seen anything like it in a RTW collection in recent memory.

Now onto the fucking train wreck that was Celine RTW.

It’s not even bad for a runway fashion show, it’s just like…straight-up bad. Like Hedi Slimane went back in time to 2013, took a bunch of models into my local Topshop (and I have to clarify my local Topshop rather than the flagship Oxford Circus store-RIP-because to do the same in the latter would produce far better results), picked up some cheap basics, switched the lights off, and then, finally, dressed them in the dark. There’s very few positive comments I can make so I’m just going to move on.

Chanel RTW I actually didn’t hate as much this season; maybe it’s because coming from Celine, my standards are like, on the floor, but it’s slightly better than usual. Whilst most of it was same old same old, the opening 10 or so looks and then from 40 onwards were alright. The colour contrast pieces were classic Chanel in a good way, that is to say somewhat modernised and appealing to a younger clientele as opposed to the elderly women who still see a boucle jacket as the height of fashion. The mini chiffon capes were also cute, and if it weren’t for COVID putting pause on everything I can see the Chanel headband being duped ad infinitum.

The worst part of the collection was without a doubt the pieces with the neon logo print, which I wish I could erase from my mind. At this point, with Virginie Viard seemingly refusing to make any attempt to reinvent the brand, Chanel is best when it’s subtle; that way it appeals to those regular customers who rely on the prestige of the garment and the new generation of consumers who are further branching out into experimenting with their personal style and want a quality base. But who I ask are these tacky ass pieces aimed at? Because though it appears to be an attempt to infuse a kind of youthful spirit into Chanel, it is very out of touch with what gen Z actually like, and I can’t imagine any rich old white ladies buying them either. Big shoulder shrug.

Whilst I tend to find Chanel’s haute couture collections a bit better than their RTW, this is probably on par. Still rather meh and frumpy at times, but there were some pretty, whimsical pieces in there that were definitely elevated by the staging which, I must say, was very dreamy. I’ve enjoyed the last couple of haute couture shows a lot more (the one with the library set was v cool), which were comparatively restrained with the frivolous details and the chintz, so this seems a step back. The dresses with the 50s Audrey Hepburn for Miss Dior style silhouette are lovely but obviously, as per the reference, nothing new.

Onto something much more exciting, we have Charlotte Knowles’ RTW collection, whose work has made her one to watch. I’m not as huge a fan of this as her last instalment, but Knowles’ (who I recently found out only just graduated from Central Saint Martins, making her achievements all the more impressive) continues to create clothes for a girl far cooler than myself; I know, that wouldn’t be hard, but we’re talking like, miles cooler. One of those women who can literally pull anything off and immediately make you want to try it yourself even though 9 times out of 10 that would be a bad idea-I could probably take, like, one piece and make it work but anything more would most likely just be me embarrassing myself. You wouldn’t think San Fransisco psychedelic summer of love motifs would mesh with futuristic Mad Max style biker vibes but Charlotte and her partner Alexandre Arsenault make it sexy AF, like a combo that was always meant to be. They are a dream team.

And lastly for this post, we have another collection I really liked: Chloe. Sadly Natacha Ramsay-Levi’s last collection for the brand, she truly went out on a high note, with a reliably gorgeous iteration of her sophisticated take on bohemian style. Who now, will we look to when we want to cosplay as one of the Jessas from Girls of the world? When we want to pretend we’re a rich, party girl socialite backpacking across Western Europe (along the foothills of Mount Tibidabo…) on a commissioned trip to “find herself” for the fashion magazine column she’s writing, whilst we’re actually on a budget family holiday in Spain? When we can’t decide if we’re dressing like a modern day Rachel Green or Phoebe Buffay and say fuck it, I’m gonna do both? I mean sure, I could never afford Chloe anyway and sure, I’m interested to see what Gabriela Hearst can do with the brand, which despite its loveliness is quite predictable, but it’s definitely sad to see Ramsay-Levi go when she has become a reliable source of elegance and class each season. She brings a quietly confident brand of femininity to the fashion world where the high profile design houses are increasingly dominated by men who are sometimes too focussed on being bold and brash enough to be hailed as the newest design visionary, and I have huge respect for that. She will be missed.

Now it feels right to end the post here, given that I just finished with a kind of dramatic memoriam for a woman who is very much still alive and given that I would really be playing with fire by trying to push Tumblr’s edit post feature any further, so I’ll wrap it up for now. In part 2, which will hopefully be out over the next couple of weeks, we’ll be looking at a surprisingly strong haute couture collection from (can’t believe I’m about to say this) Maria Grazia as well as some of my faves, Etro, Dion Lee, Gucci, and of course Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture. In the meantime, I’m hoping to get a post out on my favourite sustainable clothing brands and to shoot my take on the “what I would wear sat front row at X” video trend that’s been going around lately on TikTok and Instagram reels, which I know I am kinda late to the party with.

I’m also looking at starting “photo dump” posts where I basically just substitute what I would be putting on my Instagram feed as photo posts on here, all the way back to when I first started my fashion Instagram account. I know this is hardly a hot take, but Instagram has really gone to shit, and once I’ve moved all my photos from there to here, I’m probably going to be deleting my account and just keep my private personal one. I’m sick of the endless scrolling past photos of people edited to the point of being unrecognisable and of seeing faces that all conform to that exact same Eurocentric beauty standard with the exact same surgical procedures to the point that even I, as a thin, white cis girl feel disgusting (so god knows how others without my privilege feel) because I don’t have a fucking fox eye lift or whatever it is that internet famous surgeons are telling us we need for our faces to fit the “golden ratio” at the moment. I am OVERRR all the promoted posts from people who preach social awareness and equality and authenticity and kindness making money off promoting companies that rely on slave labour rather than those who make me feel uplifted and inspired. And I am VERY MUCH done with scrolling through share for share and like for like pages because I am embarrassed by the fact that my likes don’t match up to my follower count since that must mean that NOBODY LIKES ME AND EVERYONE HATES MY FACE, right!? Even though I’d like to think that mentality was something I grew out of a long time ago. Instagram, much like Facebook before it (which is no surprise since the latter now owns the former), has just become another cesspit of an app which exists solely to convince you to buy new clothes and follow the latest filler trend and blow money on holidays you can’t afford to convince everyone you’re living the good life. Like many others, I have finally come to the conclusion that the way Instagram operates now is nothing but detrimental to my wellbeing. So, all that being said, I’m moving my feed over here, to a place where I can just arrange my silly little photos into silly little collages and not care if I’m shouting into the void by doing so because they’re just a screenshot of my life that I can look back on in however many years time and think Oh, Cool! That’s What I Was Interested In Back Then! That Outfit is Timeless! Or That One Was a HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE! Because I do love the creative element of Instagram, turning your feed into a collage, picking out which colours compliment each other, posting your favourite art and your outfits and the makeup looks you’re proud of, the beautiful sights you’ve seen-I just hate how unbridled capitalism and unrealistic social expectations have once again destroyed a good thing, and caused it to stray so far from its original vision of connecting people. Here, I don’t care if I get 0 interactions on those kinds of posts, because I am putting stuff out there I am proud of that expresses who I am and that interests me, and when I put a lot of hard ass work into something that’s actually important or that benefits others in some way as opposed to indulging my own vanity, it does get some circulation and I hope that it does make a positive difference, regardless of how small. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone too much seeing my initial photo dump posts on their dashboard as I try and catch up to where I am now; you’ll probs see a mini influx of 2015 fashion and I’m sorry about that! But I don’t *think* it will be too long until I’m up to date and then the photo dump posts will be much less regular.

Anyway, sorry about the Instagram rant there at the end! If you read all the way til the end, this is a huuuuge thank you! I hope you enjoyed the post and I will get the next one out ASAP, potentially with a few posts in between. As always, feel free to inbox me if there’s anything you wanted to talk about or suggest and make sure you stay safe. There may finally be some light at the end of the tunnel:D

With a cautious dose of optimism, and the acknowledgement that I will most likely regret saying this: bring on June the 21st UK gals!

Lauren x

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spider-quackson · 7 years

Text

Like it's Real (2/3) Tom Holland X Reader

Summary: Tom and Y/N are childhood best friends. So when Tom’s publicist told him to fake-date someone, Y/N seems to be the best choice. But will it stay fake, or will true feelings start to blossom?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Some swearings

A/N:

Wow guys, thank you for the 100+ followers, you’re all so sweet. If you would like to be tagged in the future parts, you can leave a comment to let me know ❤️

P.S: The italicized sentences are your internal thoughts

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Tom’s Publicist: Good Morning (Y/N), I’ve dropped off some stuff for you on your front door. You: Stuff? Tom’s Publicist: For you to wear to the date. Tom’s picking you up in an hour. You: Oh sure. Thank you.

You opened your door to find a box. You carried it into your room, placing it on a chair before rummaging through it.

Apparently what the publicist refer as “stuff” includes several dresses, 4 pairs of shoes, bags and purses, and even hair accessories. No wonder the box is a bit heavy.

All the dresses seems to be a little extra for a lunch date in a local café. Well except for the simple pale yellow sundress with floral prints.

Putting it on, the dress fell just right above your knees. It flows beautifully. You put on a nude platform sandals and looked at the mirror.

This should do it

“Y/N?” came Tom’s voice, followed by three knocks.

“Coming!” You yelled back, hurriedly grabbing a purse then stuffing in your phone and money.

Opening the door, you greeted him with a cheerful smile, “Hi”

“Hi (Y/N), you look beautiful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself” you said, blushing a little from his compliment.

“I was thinking that we could walk to the café?. It’s only a few blocks away. I wouldn’t mind driving if don’t want to though,” He asked.

“Sure Tom. I could use some exercise.“

After a 5 minute walk, you both arrived at the café. The bell jingled as Tom opened the door for you, being the gentleman he is.

“Let’s go sit by the glass window. My publicist said the paparazzi would get better shots of us that way.”

After you both had settled in, the waitress came to take your orders.

“What can I get you?” smiled the waitress.

“I’d like a soufflé and a glass of iced tea please,” you ordered.

“And for me, a hot tea and a quackson would be nice,” Tom added smiling at the waitress.

“Excuse me, what?” the waitress asked giving him a weird look.

You tried muffling your laughs, but when Tom looked at you with his confused face you coudln’t help but roar in laughter.

“Tom! You - you just said quackson instead of croissant!”

Realization dawns on his face. “Oh shit. I meant a croissant. A croissant and hot tea would be nice,” he corrected, grimacing a little.

You’re still howling with laughter as the waitress leave. You’re laughing so hard that tears are escaping your eyes.

“Oh my god Tom. I can’t believe that just happened,” you said still chuckling at his red face.

“I’ve been asked to say quackson so many times now that it kinda stuck,” He explained, still not smiling.

“You have to admit it’s funny though,” You snickered.

He cracked a small smile, “I guess it is a little funny.”

With all the fun you’re having, you almost forgot that this is supposed to be a fake date. Almost, but then your phone vibrates.

Tom's publicist added you into a group chat Tom's Publicist:: You're both doing great. Tom: How did you know that? Tom's Publicist: I'm three tables away from you

Both of you looked around the café trying to spot the publicist. Sure enough, he’s sitting in a booth at the corner of the café.

You made eye contact briefly, then he starts tapping on his phone again. You looked back at your phone as it buzzes.

Tom's Publicist: Y/N, put your hand on the table, and Tom put yours on top of hers. This is a great chance.

You could feel the blush creeping up your neck at the thought of this. You lift your head up to see Tom already staring at you, his cheeks tinted with a slight blush.

You placed your hand on the table and Tom looked at you, asking for permission. You nodded, heart racing with anticipation.

As his palm rest on top of your hand, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body. You have a thousands thoughts rushing through your mind.

Why am I being like this. It’s just Tom, I shouldn’t be feeling any of this. It’s even staged for fuck’s sake.

After a few minutes, the paparazzi left but Tom’s hand is still resting on top of yours. You tried continuing the conversation. But it’s kinda hard with his thumb occassionally sweeping back and forth on the back of your hand.

He’s staring at you with such intensity, you felt like you could melt into a puddle. But then the waitress came back, bringing your orders making both of you break the physical contact.

“Do you still have any room left in your stomach?” Tom asked as you both exited the café.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I saw an ice cream truck on the way here. Thought we could maybe make a quick stop,” he grinned, knowing you wouldn’t turn down free ice cream.

Thanks for the ice cream,“ you thanked him, as he handed you your cone. You start licking on your heavenly treat, sighing in content.

Tom chuckled at your antics, “I’m glad you like it that much.” You can only hum in agreement as you continue to devour your sweet treat.

“Y/N, I’m going to try something. Just go with it okay?”

Narrowing your eyes you questioned, “What exactly?”

“Can I try your ice cream?” “Umm, sure?” You answered, utterly confused. What is he trying to do? You hold out your ice cream for him to try. But instead of licking your ice cream like you thought he would, his soft lips meet yours instead.

Your eyes flew wide open. As you body froze in shock. It’s the most innocent kiss anybody has ever given to you. Even though it only lasted for 3 seconds, it’s enough to leave you feeling lightheaded.

“It worked!” Tom exclaimed all of a sudden. “They’re all taking videos and photos”

You turned around to see a small crowd video-taping you and Tom. Of course it was an act. How stupid of you to think it was real?

Tom held your hand the whole way to your apartment, awaking the butterflies inside your stomach.

“I had a great time today Y/N. Time seems to fly when I’m you,” He smiled at you softly ad you reached your door. “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to this,”

“Hey, I had fun too. And I should be thanking you for being such a great ‘date’ today,” you assured him, doing the air quotes gesture.

Chuckling Tom said, “Well then I should be going. See you tomorrow!” The he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“Bye Tom,” you squeaked, waving at him before entering your apartment and closing the door. You closed your eyes as you leaned on the door, heart still racing from his forehead kiss.

Fuck, I have a crush on Tom

Part 3

@i-dream-of-taxes @harrysbbby @peterparkersayingmrstark @rosaetum @5-seconds-of-sarcasmm @purpleshowers @seargantbcky @sarcasmismyonlyweaponofdefense

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland

644 notes · View notes

boardwalk-absurdist · 5 years

Note

All the numbers! 😊

Aaahhh thank you~ I haven’t done one of these in forever but I love them, so let’s go (under the cut)!

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? Coffee mugs~ I have one standard reliable water bottle that I carry with me, but I love me a clever/cute coffee mug.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? Chocolate bars, natch.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? Cotton candy~

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Usually stuff like energetic, bubbly, and smart. They used to say gifted but around 4th grade they weren’t allowed to say that anymore.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? None of the above, I don’t drink soda. The bubbles hurt my tongue.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? Oh man this is an eternal struggle tbh. I think I usually dress a bit more grunge or boho, but I want to be pastel and goth as well? The others I could take or leave.

7. earbuds or headphones? Earbuds, as long as they aren’t those Skullcandy kind with the squishy part that you jam in your ear canal. I hate those.

8. movies or tv shows? Depends on my mood and how much time I have.

9. favorite smell in the summer? This may be weird, but like…sun sweat? You know when you’re laying out comfortably in the sunshine and there’s a nice breeze and you sweat a lil but it’s like just warm? Also the ocean, I love the beach but I live nowhere near one.

10. game you were best at in p.e.? Uh, avoid competitive people as much as possible by running in the opposite direction from the ball? Walk laps rather than play the game? I did not like gym class.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? Nothin’. Sometimes I’ll have a donut or poptarts or pain au chocolat but usually it’s a lotta nothing.

12. name of your favorite playlist? “Players musicals”, a spotify playlist with songs from the 4 musicals my college theatre group did while I was there. Or on my iTunes, I have one called “Power Up” that is all my pump-up jams.

13. lanyard or key ring? …both? I have a keyring on my lanyard.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? Ooh, the Haribo gummy frogs. With like the white part on the bottom? Idk what that shit is but I love it.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. I know it’s a play but we did read it, and I loved it. Alternatively, maybe Brave New World? I found that one fascinating.

16. most comfortable position to sit in? Curled up sideways in an armchair or with my legs thrown over one arm and my back against the other.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? In the summer, I always pick one pair of sandals with a fun pattern so I get cool tan lines on my feet. Otherwise, Merrell Mocs 5evr.

18. ideal weather? Sunny and dry, maybe with a light breeze, and in the mid- to high-70s. Either that or clear, sunny, and between 15 and -15 for like a perfectly brisk day.

19. sleeping position? I usually sleep on my side with my top leg flung out so I’m like half on my stomach. But I can’t actually sleep on my stomach cuz I have titties and they are Not Comfortable.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Literally anywhere and on anything. I doodle and write on p much any surface I am given.

21. obsession from childhood? …uh. There were several. But I guess Jerry Lewis was the biggie/most embarrassing.

22. role model? That’s a tough one. Probably Bonnie Bassler.

23. strange habits? I eat most foods around the outside and save the center for last. Like poptarts, waffles, sandwiches… I also have a tic where whenever I have my car in neutral I jiggle the stick shift back and forth to like prove to myself that I am in neutral. I’m sure there are more that I’m unaware of that I just think are normal, so hey, if you know me irl and you know of a weird habit that I missed, send it my way.

24. favorite crystal? Idk. Does tiger’s eye count? It’s my favorite semi-precious stone.

25. first song you remember hearing? LORDT I have no idea, probably a Bruce Springsteen song.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? Lay in the sunshine. Or swim outside.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? Play in the snow.

28. five songs to describe you? These are more songs describing what it feels like to be me, but: “Fear and Loathing” and “Teen Idle” by Marina and the Diamonds, “I Wanna Get Better” by Bleachers, “Yo Girl” from Heathers, aaaand “Carmen” by Lana Del Rey.

29. best way to bond with you? Work on a show together.

30. places that you find sacred? Difficult to say. I guess anywhere that feels like a liminal space.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Ooh okay so I have this black cropped sleeveless hoodie that says “never trust the living” on a tombstone and has a skull, I like to pair that with some burgundy high-waisted short shorts and tights with embroidered skulls and butterflies. Then those go with my platform black and white sneakers or my 6 inch platform boots with flames on the heels.

32. top five favorite vines? rOaD wOrK aHeAd?; I AM THE SAND GUARDIAN; …wow; “little diddy”; and either happy crismus or WELCOME TO BIBLE STUDY

33. most used phrase in your phone? Probably “fair enough”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? “if you needed brain surgery, would you go to a general practitioner? No? THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL BUYING FISH FROM THE GENERAL STORE” fishtopia may finally be dead but that fucking commercial lives on

35. average time you fall asleep? Like midnight?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? I can has cheezburger?

37. suitcase or duffel bag? Depends. If it’s just for a few days, duffel bag. But I prefer to travel with a suitcase for anything longer than a week.

38. lemonade or tea? Lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? Uh I guess lemon cake?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh! One time this girl tackled this dude allegedly cuz he wouldn’t share his beef jerky. The school was put on a code yellow while the security guard separated them.

41. last person you texted? Myself, to send some gel pictures from my phone to my laptop.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Jacket pockets. I have shitty girl pants pockets.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? why must you hurt me in this way. I have a denim jacket that I adore, so I guess that one? But I really appreciate the aesthetic of bomber jackets.

44. favorite scent for soap? Irish Spring. am cermet

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? I guess sci-fi.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? I sleep in my underwear.

47. favorite type of cheese? Cheddar or Gruyere.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? No clue. Strawberry, maybe?

49. what saying or quote do you live by? “Once you’re in it, it’s okay.” - This is How, Augusten Burroughs Alternatively, “How unlikely! Yet here we are.” - Spaceman of Bohemia, Jaroslav Kalfar

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? An inside joke with the Brit, I think.

51. current stresses? oh the thousands

52. favorite font? Currently I’m really feeling Book Antiqua.

53. what is the current state of your hands? Uh, fine? Clean? My nails are Ready for some new polish.

54. what did you learn from your first job? How to scoop ice cream.

55. favorite fairy tale? I don’t think I have one.

56. favorite tradition? So in my family, we have a routine for putting up the tree (we have a fake tree that we use every year). My dad puts the tree together, my mom rearranges and bends the branches to make it look more realistic, my dad puts the lights on, and then my little brother and I decorate it with all the ornaments. It’s a lot of fun and my favorite part of Christmas.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? An abusive relationship, getting help for depression/anxiety, and my mom’s attempted suicide.

58. four talents you’re proud of having? I’m a p good writer, a decent swimmer, I can do cross-stitch/needlepoint, and I am very good at taking tests/learning.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? “Eat an entire ass.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? Slice of life goofy high school comedy. Like Ouran, or the lighter parts of Fruits Basket.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? There’s a line in @scifigrl47‘s fic “Hollow Your Bones like a Bird’s” that has really stuck with me over the years: “It is the farthest from death that I can get, to decide, second by second, not to jump.” In a similar vein, the line “I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spat it out” from the original Avengers movie really made an impression. On a funnier note, the lines “I’ve frequently not been on boats” and “One can hardly eat cucumber sandwiches in an agitated manner” from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead and The Importance of Being Earnest respectively never fail to make me laugh.

62. seven characters you relate to? Lordt that is so many. Okay. Alissa Meson from the Truth series, Chidi Anagonye from The Good Place, Lee Fiora from Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld, Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket, Shiloh Wallace from Repo! The Genetic Opera, Augusten Burroughs in his memoirs (not technically a character but I relate so hard), and Bo Burnham’s stage persona (it COUNTS dammit).

63. five songs that would play in your club? “1, 2, Step” - Ciara, “Night Fever” - The BeeGees, “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” - Journey, “Chelsea Dagger” - The Fratellis, and “Damn You Look Good And I’m Drunk (Scandalous)” - Cobra Starship

64. favorite website from your childhood? Quizilla, RIP

65. any permanent scars? Several on my hands (they used to be cat scratches but I picked at them so much they scarred up), two punctures from my cat biting me on my right inner forearm, and one biggun on my left asscheek from when I fell out of a tree and had to get 6 stitches.

66. favorite flower(s)? Poppies, lavender, fireweed, and forget-me-nots.

67. good luck charms? Not really? I have jewelry that I wear every day but that’s more a habit/ritual rather than for luck.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? LORDT okay so I worked at an ice cream shop two summers in a row, right? There was this DISGUSTING cranberry stout flavor, and a p gross ginger one, plus every time someone ordered a weird milkshake we’d make a little extra so we could try some. One time someone got like a large stout (the regular, not the cranberry, which was still nasty) and pumpkin milkshake with malt. It was horrid.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? It takes as much pressure to bite through a human finger as it does to bite through a carrot.

70. left or right handed? Rightie.

71. least favorite pattern? Uh. I guess paisley? It doesn’t really do anything for me.

72. worst subject? Organic chemistry or physics.

73. favorite weird flavor combo? Oooh so nutella and honey is DELIGHTFUL if you’ve never tried it. Also those parmesan bread bites from Dominos taste real good dunked in the icing that comes with the cinnamon twists.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? Like a 4 or 5.

75. when did you lose your first tooth? I genuinely do not recall.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? Scalloped potatoes with cheese.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? Idk I kill all my plants. I have a lil sempervivum that I’ve kept alive for a few months though~

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? Grocery store sushi.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? Lmao they both are bad but I’ll say driver’s license.

80. earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel tones.

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? Are they not the same thing? I call them fireflies.

82. pc or console? PC. I grew up without a console so I lack the intuitive understanding of their control mechanisms that most people seem to have.

83. writing or drawing? Writing.

84. podcasts or talk radio? Podcasts.

84. barbie or polly pocket? Barbie I guess?

85. fairy tales or mythology? Mythology.

86. cookies or cupcakes? …cookies.

87. your greatest fear? Disappointing people who took a chance on me.

88. your greatest wish? If I tell you, it won’t come true.

89. who would you put before everyone else? My little brother.

90. luckiest mistake? Not applying for summer internships. Instead I just talked to the one microbiology professor and she offered me a summer job in her lab and it’s because of her that I’m at the school I’m at for grad school and have experience and all that.

91. boxes or bags? Uh. Bags I guess? Easier to carry.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Sunlight.

93. nicknames? My parents call me Squirrelle. Some people call me T (my real name starts with a T).

94. favorite season? Spring, I think. It’s so nice to come back out of the cold.

95. favorite app on your phone? I guess fb messenger, I use it the most.

96. desktop background? It’s a colored collage of Jareth and Sarah from pika-la-cynique’s “Girls Next Door” massive crossover series on dA.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? I dunno, like a handful? Some are totally useless.

98. favorite historical era? Probably the 80s.

#Anonymous #carmen answers #meet the blogger #thank you!#these are so fun

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brynnaverse · 7 years

Text

Last Night’s Dream

Foreward:

No one likes hearing about other people’s dreams, I know that. I remember hearing Noel Fielding once say something like, “listening to other people’s dreams is dreadfully dull.” But I can’t find the source for that quote, so I may be wrong. Therefore, I don’t expect you to read this. It’s written badly anyway.

Preface:

I have apocalyptic dreams all of the time. They’re usually extremely vivid. Pieces of these dreams sometimes sneak into my consciousness and it will take me half the day to realize they’re fake dream-memories and not memories of actual events. Typically, in these apocalyptic dreams I either (a) accept my fate relatively quickly in a wave of calmness or (b) find the group of people I trust, who I can hold up with and survive the impending doom[*]. You would think that my brain would register these biological hallucinations as nightmares, but 90% of the time, it doesn’t. Ninety-percent of the time dream-self is either completely at peace with the situation or is excited to bring my important people together to solve the puzzles/ problems at hand until my eyes decide to wake up. When my brain has decided to survive Armageddon, I wake up inspired. I can solve anything, even if I don’t become the leader of the team, I know that I’m important to survival (not the survival of mankind, to say, but the survival of my team...they’re the important ones anyway).

So here we go. From this point forward I will be writing in first person: I, Me, Mine, blah blah blah, are all going to be in reference to the dream-self. All footnotes are in reference to my real life, or day-self.

The Dream:

I was living in California[**]. I ran a small business managing performing artists[***] while spending the other half of my time learning about marketing and performing contortion. I was making a decent living, I wasn’t worried about bills and taking courses to help further my career came across as affordable. My life was entirely ran from my laptop, my external hard-drive, & my phone. The world was in a relatively troubled state. There were horrific events happening around the globe, but none of them directly effected me or my happy little life on the fringe. Ignorance is bliss. My dad was in the Air Force[****], if I needed to worry about anything, he would tell me. My dad is also the sort of person who believes in independence, problem solving, adventure, and working things out on your own: therefore, he’s likely to withhold information if HIS interpretation of said information will irrationally scare you and hold you back from your own freedom.

I was reading about a cruise. It was a small networking cruise that was intended to be packed with people in the variety-show industry. There would be performances, seminars, socials, and other general conference things. The focus was to get professional performers to present themselves better, on the back-end, to improve their footing in their desired market. I wanted to go. I felt like I needed to go! I had never been on a cruise, and this was the ideal opportunity to brush up on my skills as a manager.

With the world in its current state, I called my dad and asked him if it was the appropriate time to go on a cruise. He had mentioned a few countries that weren’t ideal to visit & that things on the American front were a little rocky, but that it should be okay. So I enrolled.

When I called to schedule my booking the lady on the phone told me that the ‘Performers & Networking Retreat’ was on a larger ship than the flyers proclaimed and it was due to the fact that we would be sharing the boat with an ‘Adult Christian Retreat’. She assured me that both conferences were on opposite sides of the ship and it was unlikely that the two groups would mingle. I didn’t care. I wasn’t even sure why she thought it was so important to go on about. I took a mental note of it and registered for the conference.

The weather was beautiful the day the ship left. I was a little intimidated going on this networking retreat by myself. Usually at conferences I have one of the performers that I manage with me and simply speak on their behalf, and I’ve never presented my performer-self in such an established environment. I packed lightly, we would only be on the water for 48-hours and the dress code said casual. Thus, my packing consisted of 2 clean black tank tops, a pair of clean jeans, structured sandals, my laptop, my external hard drive, a notebook, a pen, a water-proof disposable camera, & a crappy little Nokia phone that I would be able to keep signal and be used while at sea. I left my real phone on land. I kept my clothes and major electronics in my backpack in my room and carried the other things with me in a hip-satchel as I wandered throughout the ship taking in the full retreat experience.

For a long time, everything was running smoothly. The social events were ran a lot like raging college parties with a speakeasy vibe. You needed passwords and handshakes to get into certain areas and the only way to get those was to meet the right people and ask the right questions. You were forced to make friends, otherwise you were basically excluded from the conference. Each of the event spaces was set up like a performer's wonderland. There were a few traditional stages with lush velvet curtains. Some were small lit platforms where people could gather around and watch the showcase. Others were improvised stages set up on the backs of broken down trucks in warehouse caverns in the heart of the ship. There was beautiful graffiti, sparkling lights, small private bars in hidden rooms, and mazes of color, each area was its own rabbit-hole where you had to gather information from various people and collect your own unique-clique of industry-individuals. It was getting dark, the weather was turning gloomy and the waters a little choppy.

I ended up in a section furnished with classic cars that had been gutted and modified to create seating areas, bathroom stalls, bars; even flipped over and covered in a layer of acrylic to become a stage of gears, engines, and tubing. The group I had bonded with was made up of magicians mostly, a few people who owned venues, and a sprinkling of actors with a small awkward array of skills. There were one or two agents that I wanted to talk to and a manager who was an ancient juggler who really made it big back in the day, but wasn’t interested in being on stage anymore. There was a magician on stage. He kept complaining that the waters were too rough and that it was ruining all of his tricks. I assumed that he was just too drunk to perform them well. Every once in awhile a new person would wander in, look appalled, and storm off. The magicians rotated. I was happy to have finally found some sort of routine. As much as I loved the rabbit holes, it was nice to be somewhere comfortable for a little while.

I wandered off through a maze, a beautiful magician was leading me by the hand swearing that he needed to show me something. We ended up on the deck of the ship. The water was black, the sky thick with clouds, and a thin cold mist filled the air. I liked the way it felt when I breathed it in, but the way the boat was rocking hurt my ankles. I caught glimpses of stars through breaks in the clouds. The planes flew low into the city. You could tell the airlines by the colors of the wings. We were close enough to port that you could still see a line of lights and buildings, but it was too far away to make out definite shapes. I noticed a few other boats in the water. Big freight ships slowly bobbing along next to giant military vessels. They made our cruise ship seem insignificant. I guess it was romantic. We didn’t talk much, just listened to the thunder rolling in and kissed hard like we were really in love even though we barely knew each other [*****].

---I don’t have much memory of the next part of this dream, knowing the way that I dream it was probably sexy stuff but it’s not integral to the story---

Struggling to remember puzzles and passwords, I was determined to find my way back to the stage of deconstructed cars. The events were dying down as the night went on and less and less people were out and about. Everyone I saw seemed to have sour looks on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. It wasn’t the vibrant retreat that I’d left... but it was. I stumbled through a curtain onto the acrylic stage floor, the tides turning for the worst. Standing there was a woman in a black pant suit swaying back and forth holding a book. The audience, though a mere 20 or 30 people, was mostly made up of people in white tank-tops and grungy jeans, a few of them wearing blazers nodding along to the string of hate flowing from the woman’s mouth. I noticed the clique I had created sitting high on top of the roof of a car in the back of the room looking-on with confusion.

The woman was going on about how, “magic is all lies and deceit given to man by the Devil” preaching how, “God would be ashamed if he knew what we were congregating over.” and that “we would be cleansed by fire and brimstone if we did not beg for forgiveness.” This went on continuously as more and more nodders trickled into the space. After a while of sitting at the back of the stage I stood up and asked her, “If you’re so offended by all of this, why are you here?” She looked back at me with hatred in her eyes as if to say, “it’s the only thing I’ve ever known.” but her voice shrieked with profanities as she had her minions drag me off stage.

My emotion at this point, confused. I didn’t have much time to question the situation. A loud crash that echoed through the ship. The colorful lights that once lit the rabbit holes became a violent, fluorescent white blinking between red. I squirmed out of the clammy hands of the security guards and ran through the maze that my temporary love had shown me. The space was small, filled with quick turns and dead ends so I didn’t worry about anyone following me, not many other people would fit. Especially not the nodders.

I returned to the deck of the ship. There was a scattering of people emerging from their rooms, obviously performers awakened from a deep sleep, still coated in their glitter and hairspray. There were also a few people in white tank-tops and grungy jeans adorned in their thrift-store blazers. Everyone looked out into the ocean. A hundred yards away, if you looked really hard, you could see the black curved top and periscope of a U-boat. It was facing the wrong way, the tides had turned it around, it had rammed into the side of one of the giant barges that seemed so peaceful before. The percussive waves from the collision began to reach the cruise ship and we rocked at mercy to the sea. I thought to myself, “Maybe the freight ship is okay, maybe everyone is okay. It wasn’t a head on collision and the barge is so much bigger than the U-boat that it wasn’t enough force to have any real effect. Maybe! the water absorbed most of the shock and everything is fine!” I wound my disposable camera and took a picture placing the strap around my wrist.

It was raining pretty heavily at this point and lightening was littering the sky. I asked a few people if they had seen more of the situation and if they could explain it to me. They said there was a loud rumble and everything shook before the U-boat ever reached the surface, other people mentioned that there was a smaller military boat behind the barge & that they collided as a result of the U-boat’s interference. I had noticed that there were more ships in the water now than there were earlier. Everyone was talking at this point. Every story was different. The planes were getting lower.

I ran to a stairwell and called my dad.

Out of breath and covered in rain I opened with, “Hey! so, I know it’s late but I have a few questions.”

Concerned he responded, “Is everything Okay?”

I was becoming worried, “I don’t know....but you may know more about the situation than I do. I don’t know if it’s made it to the news yet, but a U-boat has just crashed into a barge off the coast...”

“It hasn’t made the news yet, but I knew about it, I just got called into duty”

“What?! You’re never called into duty?”

“We don’t really have time to talk about this.”

My father quickly explained to me that war was on the horizon and that tensions were so high that almost any catalyst would be seen as a direct threat and initiate an international war. Though the military knew that it was a large earthquake that caused the U-boat to veer off course they would announce it to the public as aggression from international powers leaving them with no choice but to use nuclear action. He said that he had been “On Hold” from the Air Force for deployment. That he knew he would probably be leaving soon, but that no one knew when.

“How could you not tell me this?!” I screamed into the Nokia brick. People on the cruise ship and transitioned from gossipy-confusion to actual panic.

“I didn’t think it would happen so soon! I’ve been on hold before and nothing has happened, it wasn’t worth worrying about. You going on a cruise wasn’t going to change any of that.”

Ocean water was sloshing onto the lower decks, people were running around scrambling and screaming. I’d never been on a cruise, but I’d been on a lot of ships. For the most part, they were pretty self correcting. At this point our best option was to ride the waves until we made it through the storm.

Dad asked, “Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, please say something.”

I hadn’t noticed my silence, eventually I responded, “Yeah, I’m okay, I understand.”

Someone grabbed my hand and pulled me up-stairs to the captain’s deck [******].

Dad yelled, “Bryn! are you okay?!”

“I think so, I don’t really know what’s going on anymore.”

I looked out over the edge and saw smaller ships get swallowed by larger waves. It had seemed that the port had deployed every boat it had, like everyone was fleeing the city.

Dad barked, “Stay on the line as long as you can, I need to know you’re okay!”

“I’m trying!” I quickly responded out of breath, as the few people on this deck began adorning life jackets. I snapped pictures of the city burning in the distance. I looked up, most of the rain had stopped but lightning was booming all around us. It struck one of the wings of a plane which came barreling into the ocean slicing into the sea like a steaming butter knife made of screams.

I tried to stay calm, but I was scared, I was legitimately was scared. This was real! The world was going to end with a huge storm opening for nuclear holocaust and there I was on the top floor of a ship with a bunch of strangers wearing life preservers like they were playing dress-up. Our ship jerked as Captain Alex [*******] tried to stay on top of the waves. People shouted information at me to relay to my Dad, he was our only contact to the outside world at this point, he was our best bet at being saved.

We had been turned around so many times that the end of the barge was swinging toward the bow of our ship. The sea was saturated with vessels and chunks of metal.

A metallic boom echoed through the ship, water violently drowned the lower decks.

---At this point, I was terrified, I wanted to hope that I would survive this, but I thought about how useless survival would have been. My notes, laptop hard-drive, my professional life was in my room. My room was filled with water. Even if I survived I would have nothing, the life I had spent so long building was over. It was hard to accept that. All I had was a crappy Nokia phone, my ID, and a waterproof disposable camera. Livid at myself I thought, “What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t how the world functions anymore! All of these things you feel like you need to carry with you are archaic and useless in modern society?! Why can’t you just function like a real person?!”---

Dad was still on the line, “What was that?! Where are you?!”

You could taste the salt of the sea in the air. The ocean was creeping closer to our peaked oasis, Captain Alex knew that our time was up. More planes crashed into the ocean in the distance angering the sea. The group panted and panicked as we inflated the life raft. Everything was slippery and nothing was working.

I cried back onto the phone, “I have to go! I know you and Mom don’t talk but if you don’t hear back from me you need to call her and tell her that I love her-”

A huge wave toppled over the inflating dingy, swallowing my plastic brick and pulling my arm down into the cold void of the angry ocean. I was stuck to something. I gripped the side of the dingy with my right arm and felt the water rush up my nose. After a good deal of struggling, I was pulled up onto the raft by the other people who were on the captain’s deck. That was it, the ocean was destroying everything in sight. I snapped pictures of everything. Debris in the water, planes smashing into the water, explosions off of ships in the distance. I took a picture of the cold, scared group with my camera and began crying. The angry preacher lady was there, the fight completely wiped out of her, the fear I read in her face before radiated throughout her entire body. I didn’t recognize the others. My anxious brain ran through the situation, “Could it have happened differently? What did I do wrong? Was this the end?” A Southwest plane nose-dived into the water less than 50 yards away sending an aftershock that the little raft would never survive... I was scared... legitimately and genuinely scared.

I woke up.

[*]: We all know that the latter is ridiculous, everyone thinks that they’re special enough to collect the perfect team of miraculous misfits who can survive Armageddon. Let’s be real, the likelihood of that is EXTREMELY improbable; no one is a superhero. If the ground fell off the Earth everyone would die unless they were in a plane & then they would die when they ran out of gas; the longest lasting survivors would be the handful of individuals in space, but they too would (most likely) run out of resources and too, meet their demise.

[**] My mother is extremely superstitious, I was raised being taught that California is going to fall off. My mother, though primarily atheist and extremely skeptical, genuinely believes that if SHE goes to California it will fall off due to her presence. She is scared that I have inherited this curse and that if I move there, it will fall off... because of me.

[***] This is what I currently do for a living, though I plan on moving to California, I don’t believe that I will be able to support myself on my current business structure and will require another part-time job to supplement my income.

[****] My dad is actually in the Air Force.

[*****] I love these moments. I’m really into short term, hyper-condensed relationships where both people can really experience that ideal of ‘love’. Everyone involved is 100% a part of the moment and truly wants to be with the other forever. When everyone knows that there are definite factors that will terminate the actual possibility of this never-ending love, but disregard that knowledge because of the moment. “It’s only forever. Not long at all.” My friend once called them “Weekend Marriages”. I’ve adopted this term, even though they rarely happen on weekends for me.

[******] I’d like to say it was the hot magician from earlier in the dream, but I don’t remember. #dreamlogic

[*******] I don’t know why I knew the name of the captain

#dream #end of the world #apocolypse #nightmare #ocean

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tickletherapy · 7 years

Text

Acceptance

“Are you sure there’s nothing you’d like to do, honey?” the woman asked. “No mum! There’s nothing here! Nothing at all! Well… nothing I want to do anyway…” her daughter exclaimed, glancing around. The older woman sighed and glanced around. The shopping centre was teeming with people, as it usually did during the January stocktake sales. It was fairly warm outside today, too. Thus, it made sense for people to escape the heat and seek refuge in a shopping centre. The slender, average sized woman wore a pair of sandal flats, a pair of white three quarter trousers with a loose turquoise blouse. At least she was better dressed than the other people here: they were ambling about in tank tops and flip-flops, showing off thickset beer guts and broad arms, or hairy chests. It made her shudder. Still, the woman ambled along, her eight-year-old daughter’s hand folded inside her own. “I’m still quite amazed that you’ve behaved so well today! I know you hate shopping, but wow, the way you’ve responded to everything today has been impressive. You’ve just rolled with it, honey,” the woman said. Her daughter tittered and glanced up, grinning gleefully. The young girl was small and skinny, with tanned skin and average sized hands and feet. She sported long light brown-blonde hair and forest green eyes. She currently wore a pair of white shorts, a green and white striped polo shirt and a pair of blue and black sandals. To most people, she would have appeared to be a surfer boy with longer than average hair! “Thanks, ma!” the girl said, grinning. “But I still can’t find anything I want!” the woman’s daughter replied. Her mother sighed and stopped in the middle of an intersection. In the direction they were currently facing in the large, airy, three-storey building, they could see the huge central food court. To their left there was a short passageway leading to every child’s favourite store: Toys ‘R’ Us. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything from the food court?” “No thankyou. We’ve already eaten, and you said there’s ice-cream at home,” the girl replied. “How about a toy? Or a video game you’d like? Perhaps some new kneepads for your skateboard?” her mother suggested. The girl shrugged. She seriously had no idea! Sweeping her long brown hair away from her face, the older woman continued glancing around. She hoped – no, she prayed – her daughter would find something. And in that moment, it was as if her prayers had been answered, for the woman suddenly felt her arm jolting. She glanced up to find her young daughter padding off in the direction of Toys ‘R’ Us. The woman smiled, realizing her daughter had found something. But as they hurtled towards the toy store, the woman’s daughter suddenly wheeled around to face the opposite direction. “I KNEW I could her laughter from somewhere!” the youngster cried, grinning at her mother with a mischievous smile. At last, the sweet, playful eight-year-old had found what she wanted. “What’s that?” the woman asked, glancing around, expecting to find some sort of punk shop or a skateboard shop. Her daughter, for some strange reason, had developed a love of punk music, but it was increasingly hard to find good songs without a bucket load of swear words in them… “There!” the youngling cried, pointing to a shop front. It looked like it wasn’t going to be sticking around for long; such was the case with most, if not all, popup stores. Some ended up becoming permanent locations, but this was rare. This shop was narrow, with a brightly coloured sign above it and on both sides of the entrance, at forty-five degree angles and facing the direction of on comers. These signs were brightly coloured, with a green and gold backdrop, with red letters. But these letters seemed to be made of feathers! ‘GIGGLES GALORE: A HOTFUB POPUP STORE!’ When the two females peered in, they could see a long red couch along one side, with fold down benches. At the back, there was an office desk with a small refreshments station. The desk had a computer on it, with several stacks of paper on it. The shop was brightly lit, with lighting in the white walls. There were red, blue, green and yellow glow sticks in the sides, giving the room a bright, fun appearance. On the walls, there were a few photos, containing children being tickled on their feet and upper bodies by feathers or fingers… But by far, the most interesting part of the shop was in the front. It looked like a dentist’s chair, but it also looked ten times scarier, yet ten times more enthralling at the same time. The little girl couldn’t help but amble closer, to steal a better look. The purple and white chair had a black beam directly behind the headrest, where a series of cuffs were located. At the other end, there was a huge wooden platform with two holes cut into it. They seemed to be padded, too. Beside the chair, there was a small, round white table with a chair, and also several items on it. The girl could recognise the hairbrush and paintbrushes there, but there were also feathers and electric toothbrushes! Right now, there was a boy currently sitting on the chair. His bare feet were secured in the restraints, and his arms were locked in position above his head. He currently wore a pair of shorts, but there was a tee shirt and a pair of shoes and socks on the floor. A woman was watching the action and smiling, snapping photos of the boy and encouraging a second lad. The restrained boy was frantically laughing his head off whilst his tickler’s fingers spidered about all over the balls of his tender, soft looking feet. The toes, currently tied back to stop scrunching and disrupting the tickles, squirmed and wiggled as much as they could. “NAHAHAHA MAHAHAHAHAMEEHEEHEE DAHAHAHAHAN’T TEHEHEHEHEHELL HIHIHIM!” the blond kid cried, screaming with wide eyes. The woman snapping photos, obviously his mother chuckled. She stood up, unable to control her impulse, and stepped up behind the restraints and began spidering her nails over the child’s soft, hairless hollows, resulting in another frantic bout of hysterical laughter. The woman’s scarlet nails spidered rapidly up and down all over her son’s ribs, pits and sides. She also occasionally grabbed at his tummy with the dreaded claw attack. Then, to make matters worse, she reached forward and squeezed his thighs too, resulting in even higher-pitched giggles, before returning to the upper body with a few belly button pokes. The foot-tickler was busily threading feathers back and forth between the boy’s tender, dainty toes, whilst scrubbing a hairbrush over the other foot with his other hand. He wasn’t doing a great job of it, since holding three feathers in one hand; a hairbrush in the other and performing two different methods was quite taxing on a young mind. Actually, it was rather taxing on anyone’s mental capabilities, no matter how talented they were! It could be done though, as this kid was proving. A sudden jolt to the sides alerted the little girl to the fact that she was currently in a trance like state. She had also been squirming as she watched, and when her mother zapped her flanks, she squeaked and giggled endearingly. “Come on Dixie, shall we go and have a closer look, my little tickle bug?” the girl’s mother asked. When her daughter nodded, she steered her towards the store’s entrance. Dixie, for as long as she could remember, had always been known as a tickle bug. She loved everything about it, from the sensations it made, to the laughter and the accompanying workout. She also loved how it made her feel relaxed, or wound her up, or pulled her out of a bad mood. It was the great all-rounder. Often was the case that if Dixie was bored, she’d ask for a supermassive tickle session, which her mother would happily dish out, teasing the girl’s body from top to toe for as long as the little one could handle it. In fact, if she hadn’t found anything, she was going to ask for exactly that when they returned home. The mother-daughter duo entered the shop. The woman currently tickling her son to pieces smiled at them. They smiled back. In fact, they couldn’t stop smiling, because a short, skinny young lady was ambling towards them. She wore a white sleeveless crop top, with blue jean shorts and flat dress sandals. She had long, yellow blond hair, which came down to just under her bosom. Her bright blue eyes twinkled in the light, and she smiled warmly. As she approached, Dixie saw a clipboard and a pen in her hand. “Hello, how are you today?” the young woman asked, smiling. “Very well thanks. How are you?” Dixie asked. She was never scared to say hello to someone. “I’m very well, too! I’m Libby by the way. Welcome to Giggles Galore, the HOTFUB popup store!” the girl exclaimed. As she spoke, it was evident that she had something of a lisp going on, and her voice was quite airy, yet deep at the same time. “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Jane by the way,” said Dixie’s mother, smiling politely. “And I’m Dixie!” the youngling chirped back, grinning ever so sweetly. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you both! I saw you watching from outside earlier. I guess you liked what you saw?” Libby asked, grinning. She gestured to the couch and they all collapsed onto it, so they could chat and watch the blond boy being tormented out of his little mind. “Yeah, we were!” Jane remarked. “So this is a HOTFUB thing?” “Yes, that’s right. So HOTFUB decided that the Christmas shopping time would be a time where many kids go to shopping centres against their will, so we organized this so kids can drop heir kids off and run around for up to half an hour. However unfortunately this is one of the smaller clinics. I believe the popup store they have over at Forest Hill shopping Centre is much bigger, with up to five chairs like that,” the woman explained, gesturing to the seat. “I see. Well this is nice and cosy. I like it,” said Jane. “Is there just you and that boy here?” Dixie asked curiously. “Actually we have rotating shifts with the kids turning over every three to four hours. And I’m here for the whole day,” the woman explained. “Oh okay, that sounds cool. So why are the stores here?” “Well, you can come here and be tickled or tickle one of the boys here. And we have sign up sheets and the like,” the HOTFUB employee explained further. “Oh cool! That sounds awesome! But what’s so different about it here? Like… I could go home and ask to be tickled at home, couldn’t I?” asked Dixie, grinning mischievously. “You could, I’m sure. But tell me something… do you have this fun chair and these awesome tickling tools at home?” the lady asked, smiling kindly. The brunette thought for a moment. “Um… no, we don’t… but we have toothbrushes and stuff at home,” Dixie replied. “Oh of course you do! Otherwise your breath would be all stinky!” “Ewwww hehe!” the girl giggled. “No, I meant as in you wouldn’t usually think to use them for tickling, would you?” Libby asked. “Oh… well now that you mention it…” Dixie replied, grinning at her mother, who smiled back. “So, will you have a session here today? It’s quite economical actually. It’s fifteen dollars to tickle our HOTFUB lad, or five dollars to be tickled,” said Libby. “Twenty dollars all up!” Jane exclaimed, feigning shock. Dixie glanced at her mother with wide eyes. “Oh well of course you don’t have to pay for both sessions,” said Libby, smiling. “Ah, well that’s alright then!” Jane replied, chuckling. “But I want to do both! Can I please do both, mummy?” Dixie asked, clasping her hands together as if she were praying. “Well I’m not sure. It’s very expensive. It’s twenty dollars you know!” the girl’s mother teased. “Yeah, and if I decided I wanted to buy skateboard pads, it would cost fifty dollars, hehe!” Dixie remarked cheekily. She knew which stores were not having clearance sales right now, and if push came to shove, she’d drag her mum to one of those ones if she said no here. “Of course… so I’m not spending as much here, am I?” she asked. “Not as much as you would if you were to purchase skate pads, no,” Libby giggled. But it was evident that Dixie was becoming antsy, as she was now standing up and bouncing up and down on the balls of her little feet. Meanwhile, the room had become much quieter now, since the tickling had ceased and the now ex-ticklee was climbing gingerly out of the stocks. His face was bright tomato red and he was sweating profusely. He looked like he’d just been destroyed! “Please mummy! Please! We don’t have this cool stuff at home!” she cried, pulling a puppy-eye face. “Oooh I don’t know,” Jane said, smirking slightly. “I mean…. I could just tickle you at home for free. But what the heck? Here we go then!” she said, smiling and reaching into her purse, drawing out the red twenty dollar note and handing it over. Whilst they’d been talking, the young boy’s mother slipped her son’s socks and shoes back on, since the poor, panting lad was too worn out to do so himself. He downed the entire cup of water the tickler handed to him. “That’s the spirit then! Nothing like a good tickle session! And we’re very thorough. So if you’re worried about her being full of beans when you return home, have no fear, because she’ll be out like a light!” Libby explained, her lisp becoming more and more prominent as her speech speeds up. “Oh that’s very good then! Much like that one, you mean!” Dixie’s mum replied. “Haha, my son just endured twenty-five minutes in this thing. If I could buy one for him, I would. He’s an absolute tickle holic!” the lad’s mother exclaimed, helping the exhausted kid to his worn out feet. “You ought to send him to HOTFUB!” Libby suggested. “Oh don’t worry, I intend on doing that!” the woman replied, taking her son’s hand and heading out the door. The two women chuckled and waved her off. The boy gave a tired wave to everyone too. Dixie stood up, leaving the adults to their chatting and inspected the tickle chair closely. It was quite an intriguing device, capable of exposing a kid’s body and thus allowing it to be tickled nonstop without any hindrance from flailing limbs. She liked the foot restraints. They seemed interesting… “Hello,” said a voice behind the girl, making her jump. She wheeled around on the spot. “Hi,” she said shyly, smiling. She was currently staring into the deep brown eyes of an Indian born lad. He must have been about her age, because he was about the same height, if not a tad shorter, but not by much. He was small and skinny. His liquorice black hair was short, and his bright white smile was broad and energetic. His skin was fairly pale brown. He currently wore dark blue sports shorts, with a grey tee shirt with the white Nike tick on it, and a pair of sandals. “I’m Kiran, by the way. I’m going to be your tickler today,” the boy said, with an Australian accent. “Oh okay. I’m Dixie, by the way,” the girl said. “How old are you?” she asked. “I’m eight, and you?” “Same!” the endearing lass replied, grinning. “Cool. So you like to be tickled, huh?” “Yeah, I do! It’s really fun. Do you?” “Yes, I do. But I prefer to be the tickler,” Kiran replied, tittering a bit. “Cool. Where is your most ticklish spot?” Dixie asked, grinning. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours!” the boy replied, giggling. “Well for me it’s my toes, hehe!” the girl squeaked, wiggling her little tootsies as she spoke. “I see. For me it is my armpits!” the boy replied, his arms clamping beside them. “Cool. So do you normally get tickled here?” Dixie asked curiously. “Actually not really. I very rarely get tickled in these places. I usually do the tickling,” the boy replied. “Oh okay. Well I asked for both types of sessions today, so I can tickle you as well!” the girl exclaimed, grinning mischievously. Kiran giggled, grinning broadly as he did so. “That would be nice. I don’t usually like being tickled too much, but sometimes it is fun,” he added. “I see. So do you work for HOTFUB?” Dixie asked. She couldn’t help the questions. Meanwhile, Libby and Jane sat together, watching with interest. “Yes, I do! It is very fun there. Now can I ask you to please to jump up onto the chair and place your feet into the holes?” Kiran asked. Dixie giggled and leapt up and sat down. She placed her feet through the open holes and allowed Kiran to close the top part over them. She waved her feet in circular motions, and grinned nervously. Jane supressed a chuckle, before leaning over to Libby. “You know, I always say to her to not take her shoes and socks off when I tickle her feet, because it’s like unwrapping a present for me as a tickler. It’s funny how she’s done the same here. I guess she’s just used to doing it like that, now,” the lass’s mother whispered. “Haha yeah, seems that way. I have to agree with you about the shoes and socks, by the way…” Whilst the two women whispered to each other, Dixie cast them suspicious glances, but her mind’s attention as redirected when Kiran locked her hands into the wrist restraints by her sides. “Not above my head?” the girl asked curiously. “No, not today I’m afraid,” the boy replied. “We have lots to get through, teehee,” he replied. He returned to the front of the stocks and unstrapped the left sandal. As he did so however, he also playfully tickled the youngster’s delightfully soft foot over the top. Dixie jumped back in her seat and tittered sweetly, prompting a smile from her tickler. “This is going to tickle so much!” the endearing child cried, tittering as the sandal slid over the foot, exposing it. The heel strap glided over the lass’s arch, sending her into a fit of cute, uncontrollable giggles. After placing the left shoe on the floor, Kiran turned his attention to the right foot. This time, he tickled the top of the foot between the two straps, then the tops of the little toes, and even the back of the heel, before unstrapping the shoe! Dixie giggled sweetly. “Just get to the good stuff!” she cried impatiently, and giggling rambunctiously in the process. The Indian born tickler tittered as well. He shrugged his shoulders and rapidly unstrapped the shoes. When the Velcro straps tore apart, they made that familiar uncomfortable scratchy sound, sending shivers up Dixie’s spine in the process. When the shoe was pulled free from her foot and slid over her arch, the girl tittered again. Placing the shoe on the ground, Kiran admired the tender soles for a moment. Since Dixie’s skin was quite tanned, the soles were a milky pink colour for the most part. They were small and delightful to look at. The heels were narrow, and at the balls of the feet, the super soft, silky smooth feet tapered out ever so slightly to accommodate the five little tootsies. There was a partial amount of toe stem visible on the second, third and fourth digits. The digits also complimented the small and slender soles, for they were just right in terms of their length and width. The big toe was naturally the biggest, and then from there they fanned down in a near perfect arch. “You have really nice ticklish looking feet,” said Kiran, teasingly. He grinned gleefully, wiggling his fingers ever closer towards the girl’s squirming soles. “Oh why thankyou! But if you think they look ticklish, just wait until you actually try it!” the girl teased, tittering uncontrollably and wiggling her toes frantically. “Okay, then I’ll do just that!” Kiran cried sweetly, flashing her a smile before tracing one curious finger from the base of the girl’s left heel up towards her big toe, zigzagging it up as he went. Immediately, the girl’s arms and legs twitched and she lurched forward, tittering desperately. The boy giggled and started on the right foot as well, raking all ten of his fingers up and down the soft, tender soles. “How is that, Dixie?” Kiran teased giggling as his fingers brushed lightly across the balls of the girl’s soft, sensitive feet. The girl by was cackling even harder, jiggling about in the restraints and shaking her head. Her eyes were practically bulging out on stalks, and she was squeaking as the tickles rushed through her delightfully sensitive and highly cute soles. “THAHAHAHAHAHAT REHEHEHEHEHEALLY TIHIHIHIHICKAHAHAHAHAHALS!” the youngster screeched back, thrashing hard as the boy fingers now progressed to a spidering method, working all over her little toes as well as the soles, tops and sides. He couldn’t help grinning as he teased her little tootsies. He teased across the pads of them, and in between them too. At first he used his fingers, but then reached to the table and picked up a special HOTFUB creation: the Tween Toes Tickler! This device had a special handle, and then five little fingers, each lined with fluffy and fuzzy pipe cleaner material. To make matters worse, the tips were plastic, and they vibrated, so they could easily tickle little toe pads and soles too. The tiny fingers had different colours on them. These were pink, purple, blue, green and yellow. The one on Kiran’s other hand had red, yellow, orange, white and black. The boy slipped both of these onto Dixie’s heels and slid them up her soles, so she could experience the tormenting vibrations. “GYAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA WHAHAHHAHAHAAHAT’S THAHAHAHAHAT?” she screeched desperately, her eyes widening in the process. The two women chuckled when they saw that response. They were both chatting about HOTFUB and TOYAAG and their differences. Kiran was half listening too, but he was also concentrating on making young Dixie scream her lungs out. He slipped the two Tween Toes Ticklers’ into the undersides of the girl’s little digits, before flicking each one up so they tormented the little digits. Since they were her weakest spot, the poor girl understandably screeched for all she was worth, thrashing about desperately and fanning her animated toes out. The tickler capitalized on her mistake, slipping the devices in between her little digits, and holding them there. “AHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA TIHIHIHIHICKAHAHAHAHALS TOO MUHUHUHUCH!” the girl cried desperately, thrashing as hard as her restraints would allow. They squeaked and croaked in protest to her frantic tugging and kicking. “You want me to stop?” Kiran asked. He rested the handle of each device on little holders extending up from the stocks, which had been fitted for this very purpose. With Dixie writhing about so much and kicking her feet, she was actually tickling her own toes! “NAHAHAHAHAHAHA IT’S FUUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUN!” the little girl screeched desperately, her cheeks blushing and a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks. She shook her head to flick them off her face, before taring back down at the stocks where her feet were being tormented. The tickles only increased from there, for Kiran returned to the soles, his fingers skittering and scribbling relentlessly all over the heels, arches and the balls of the feet. The double ticklish assault made the poor girl scream even louder, and her laughter scaled an octave now. It also passed the threshold between proper laughter and nonstop squealing. “Well then I’ll have to keep going!” the young boy teased, lifting the Tween Toe Ticklers’ off his ticklee’s toes and picking up a few feathers instead. He started sliding them all over the girl’s soft soles, working the soles, sides and tops, as well the cute, squirmy digits. The feathers were delightfully ticklish for Dixie’s tender soles, and her heavy laughter subsided a fair bit. Her body wasn’t convulsing as much now, suggesting that this was quite pleasant. The tickler started with two feathers – one in each hand. They were stiff but big, and tickled greatly. Eventually, the boy switched to softer feathers, which tickled more. He added more of these soft, fluffier feathers, eventually holding three in each hand and sliding them all over the little girl’s soles and tickly toes. “AHAHAHA WE NEEHEEHEED THESE AT HOHOHOHOHOME!” the girl shrieked, as the feathers slid all over the arches and balls of her tender feet. Kiran turned to face Jane. “Would you like to have a turn with them?” he asked. The woman thought for a moment. “Yeah sure, I’d love to!” she said, racing over. But she didn’t take the feathers. Instead, her nails spidered and skittered relentlessly all over the little girl’s left sole, leaving Kiran to tease the right one. “WHAHAHAHAHAT? THAHAHAHAHAT’S CHEAHEAHEAHEATING! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” young Dixie screeched, as the two ticklers made short work of her tender soles. Her mother’s nails slipped effortlessly between her daughter’s hyper ticklish tootsies, teasing the tips and pads of them with ease, as well as between them too. She seemed to know exactly how to make it work and drive her young child completely insane. Kiran felt like this was almost unfair, but he decided against this idea, and after using the feathers thoroughly, he cycled through the feather dusters, paintbrushes and q-tips. Dixie’s soft soles seemed to be thoroughly reactive to the paintbrushes, since they were so dense and tickled well. In fact, for the first time in the entire session, and mainly since her soles were completely awash with tickles, the girl’s toes scrunched down! “Oh well, fortunately I have a way to fix that!” Kiran cried gleefully, picking up and pair of electric toothbrush and turning them on. When they whirred to life, Jane stepped back to watch the youngster work his magic. The brushes touched the tips of the eight-year-old brunette’s delightful big toes and she screeched! The poor girl actually screamed so loudly that she accidentally slipped into silent laughter! All that could be heard now was the banging of her arms against the restraints, the squeaking the chains and padded manacles and the scratching of tickling tools on soft bare feet. Occasionally, the poor girl squeaked. But as the brushes slid down over her tender tootsies, she had no choice but to unscrunch them, thus paving the way for the hairbrush tickles. “Will you hold the toes back for me?” the tickler asked as he slid the two electric brushes over Dixie’s tender soles, focussing namely on the arches and heels. “Oh, I think I can do that!” Jane replied. But she was quite devious on her approach. The woman eased back on her daughter’s tender, ticklish tootsies and slipped a piece of cord around the two big toes and the two littlest toes. “There, that should do it,” she said, winking. Kiran didn’t need further encouragement. He put the two electric brushes down, and brandished the hairbrush. When young Dixie saw it, she squealed. If electric toothbrushes had almost killed her, then a hairbrush would be pure hell. And she wasn’t wrong. Since her soles had started sweating up ever so slightly, thus blanketing them in a thin film of moisture, the plastic balls on the ends of the bristles ended up sliding up and down the girl’s tender feet with ease, thus heightening the sensations and making Dixie more jumpy than she already was. Her screechy laughter had returned, and she screeched as loudly as she could, making a few passers-by stop and edge closer for a better look. “It’s okay, she’s my daughter and she loves it!” Jane cried to a shocked onlooker and her own son and daughter, who looked to be about nine and eleven respectively. She shook her head however and padded off, despite the boy glancing back hungrily at the pop up store. The girl continued screaming her cute head off, thrashing wildly. But it was only going to get worse for the poor child. As the hairbrush continued sliding up and down each foot moving from he left sole to the right and back, Jane crouched beside her daughter’s midriff and began spidering her fingers all over the girl’s tender stomach and ribs, attempting to also dig into whatever she could reach of the sides. She wasn’t tickling under her daughter’s shirt, though normally at home she’d be topless for such a ticklish workout, which was how the little one preferred it. But the double attack suddenly caught the endearing lass off guard, and her eyes one again just about ejected from their sockets. And if there hadn’t been anything holding her down, there would have most likely been a Dixie-shaped hole in the ceiling by now. The girl kept screeching and screaming for all she was worth. “Are you having fun, honey? I’ve never tickled you THIS hard before,” Jane asked. She was slightly nervous at the moment, too. But Dixie nodded her head and squealed. “SO FUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUN!” she managed, before slipping into silent giggles again. The hairbrush was now sliding in circular motions over the girl’s soles. It did that method mainly over the balls of the feet and toes, where it was most effective. The girl also had to put up with heavy scrubbing across her heels, arches and the balls of her feet too, but the light circular motions were where it tickled most. A few moments followed, and Jane eased up on her daughter’s upper body, now returning to the feet. “If I hold the brush here, you tickle there,” said Kiran, whispering so Dixie wouldn’t hear. He picked up a second hairbrush and rested them lightly against the girl’s toes. Then, Jane placed her nails against her child’s arches and began scribbling her nails hard. The girl screamed with laughter and began waving her ticklish feet from side to side. But as she did so, she tickled her own toes against the brush! It all too much to bear now, and the youngster screamed desperately. “ORANGE OCTOPUS! ORAHAHAHAHANGE OCTAHAHAHAHAPUHUHUHUSS!” the lass cried. Kiran cast a sideways glance at Jane, who chuckled. “That’s her safe word. She calls it when she’s had enough,” the woman explained. The Indian born kid gasped and pulled the brushes away. “Hehe, I like that one! Orange Octopus! That’s a funny one, teehee!” the boy giggled. Dixie was a mess. She was sweating quite hard, and her cheeks were deep crimson. Her feet were red too, from the stimulation they’d just been put through. The girl was panting heavily, sighing and moaning every now and then as she did so. It was hard to get air in right now. As she panted away, Jane cuddled her daughter and kissed her, before releasing her wrists from the restraints. A few tired titters and an unlocking sound later, Kiran swung the device open, freeing the girl’s feet. She wiggled her toes gratefully, and sighed. Libby padded across the room with a cup of water for the girl. “Here, drink this, you’ll feel better!” she said. The little lass took the water and downed it all in one gulp, sighing. She was glad she’d relieved herself before they came here… “Man, that was awesome!” she sighed, her voice coming out croakily. “I think you enjoyed!” Jane exclaimed, as the girl leapt down from the seat and slipped her feet back into her sandals. The girl nodded as she stumbled back to the red couch. Her legs, arms and whole body in general felt like a huge pile of jello right now. “Yeah! Hehe! That was the best tickle ever!” Dixie cried, giggling. “I’m glad you enjoyed it! What was your favourite part?” Kiran asked, clasping his hands together and sitting on the tickle chair, facing her. “Oh, I’m not sure. I liked it when you tickled me with those funny vibrating thingies!” And the feathers were nice. They were really nice actually. If someone wanted to tickle me all day, I’d let him or her use feathers. They tickle, but they feel really nice, hehe!” the girl cried, grinning. “I bet they’d do the same at TOYAAG, so maybe you can join there,” Kiran suggested. At hearing those words, Dixie looked like she was about to be sick. “EW! I HATE TOYAAG!” the girl cried, her loving, peaceful and kind eyes flashing angrily for a second. “Oh? How come?” Libby asked, surprised. “They’re the girls’ tickling capital of the world, as they say!” “No, they’re really not. They don’t like all girls. They think some girls should not be allowed in. They didn’t let one of my best friends in because they said she was too fat. She’s STOCKY! And she wanted to be a tickler, anyway. But I’ve watched their videos and they don’t tickle very well… and I find the situations too boring and stuff. The best stuff they do is with HOTFUB, anyway,” Dixie explained. “Thank you,” said Libby, grinning. “Which situations do you find boring?” “Well, I’ve seen many of the on-site ones in their tickle studio. It’s just tickling for the sake of tickling. I really hate that. It just doesn’t seem as fun. Like the scene opens up and they’re tied into a device like that one and then it goes from there. There’s not really a story line,” said Dixie. “I like how HOTFUB do their sessions at the studios. You set them up well with a story,” she said. I mean I watched a video of a kid named George who signed up. His first sessions were about his feet, upper body and being tickled in different ways. But rather than just doing tickles for the sake of tickles, they set it up as a story, with him walking into a doctor’s clinic where they test for healthy nerves. Or they’ll do the ‘Camp Tickles’ one, which is a holiday program type thing. Those video clips are really good!” the girl explained. “I see. Yeah we had the same feedback so we changed it,” said Kiran. “And Syd, our director, usually asks us for our suggestions and stuff,” he added proudly. “See that’s what I’d like to be a part of! A place like that!” Dixie exclaimed. “I know, you always speak of how much better HOTFUB is!” Jane said, smiling a bit. “Because it is! The girls aren’t treated well at TOYAAG. They have to be a certain height and weight, and maintain their weight and all that. It’s not a fun lifestyle. You might as well be a dumb model. As you can tell I’m not big on girly things, hehe!” the tomboy exclaimed, giggling a little. “Oh okay. That’s alright though. Everyone is different,” said Kiran. “I think people would like you as a tickler and ticklee. You’re fun. If you could join up to HOTFUB, that would be awesome. I’d let you in now if we could!” he said. “So I can tickle you again properly, hehe!” the Indian boy replied mischievously. He was wiggling his own little toes in his sandals. “Come on you! Swing those feet around! I think my daughter wants her revenge and you’re holding her up!” Jane said. Libby chuckled and nodded in agreeance when the youngster glanced at her. He gulped and tittered, swinging his feet around. As he did so, he wriggled out of his tee shirt, throwing it across to the chair, which it draped over. “Nice throw, hehe!” Dixie giggled. “But yeah, I never want to be a part of TOYAAG. I wish I could be part of HOTFUB!” she cried. “Awww, we wish you could as well!” Kiran said. “Oh well, that will never happen,” the little one said. As she was speaking, Jane locked the stocks shut, and Libby took the scrawny lad’s little arms and secured his wrists to the padded cuffs above his head. The girl’s mother wiggled her fingernails tantalizingly close to the lad’s underarms and playfully spidered them inches from the soft, tender skin. It didn’t stop Kiran from barking out a sudden cry of tickly giggles. He squirmed in his chair, tittering. “Nawww, I wish you tickled my upper body longer,” the girl cried, standing up now that she felt recovered and padding over to the stocks. Jane smirked. “Well, if you’re up to it, we can have a mother-daughter tickywicky time before beddy tonight!” the woman said, grinning. The little girl giggled and nodded, brushing a few locks of brown hair away from her face. “You said you weren’t into girly things… what do you like to do?” Kiran asked, as Dixie stepped up to his feet. She thought for a moment. She knew he was stalling, but she played along. This was fun… “Well, I like skateboarding, bike riding, board games, listening to punk and rock music, playing my guitar and playing pranks on people. I have a whole box of tricks and stuff at home, hehe!” the girl explained. Jane grimaced and nodded her head chuckling, along with Libby. “I was a prankster too, in my childhood,” said Libby playfully. “Oh it usually ends up with her on he floor being tickled,” said Jane, grinning. “Why do you think I do it, hehe!” the youngster replied. “Fair call, haha!” her mother replied. “What do you like to do?” Dixie asked, now loosening Kiran’s left sandal straps and lightly spidering her fingers over the tender skin between each strap. She also teased his toes and the back of his heel, too. The black haired boy tittered endearingly, showing off his pearly whites as he did so. “I like airports and tickling,” the lad said simply. “He sure does! And he’s very knowledgeable in those areas, too!” Libby cried, grinning. “I also like other stuff. I just obsess over airports. I also like cricket and soccer,” he added. “Oh cool, those are good sports,” Dixie replied, grinning. “You know what else should be a sport?” “Tiggling!” The boy exclaimed excitedly, tittering as his sandal was pulled off. It brushed against his tender sole, eliciting a cute squeal. The eight-year-old lass nodded her head, tittering. “Yup! Don’t you think! The person who lasts longest wins,” Dixie cried. “In which case, you would be the winner for sure in the kids’ division!” cried Jane, back over at the red couch. Libby was at her computer, eagerly tapping on her keyboard. It must have been important. But right now, with one foot bare, Kiran’s tickly torture was about to commence. “Now I seem to recall that you liked to take my sandals off earlier, so I hope you don’t mind me having some fun with your feet as well,” Dixie teased, giggling. Kiran shrugged. “The less time you spend tickling my feet, the better, ehe!” the black haired kiddo squeaked, tittering sweetly. He wiggled his toes and his titters broke out again as Dixie’s short, rounded nails spidered and drummed lightly over the top of his foot between the two sandals straps. She also teased the tops of his delicate toes and behind his heel. After a few seconds longer, the girl unstrapped this shoe as well, peeling the Velcro straps apart and loosening them. Even that tickled a tad! “Normally girls don’t like feet,” Kiran observed. Dixie giggled and shrugged her shoulders. The lad wasn’t wrong either. Most of Dixie’s friends were pretty indifferent about feet, and even disliked their feet. But being the tickle bug she was, and considering they were her most ticklish spot, and her favourite spot to be tickled, it made sense that she, at least, appreciated and liked her feet. “Yeah, most girls I know are like that. But I like mine. I like how I can run and walk with them, and I’m lucky. I mean… some people don’t have feet. But I like mine. They’re fun, ehe!” the girl replied, removing the sandal from Kiran’s squirmy foot. She admired his tender, wiggly-toed soles for a brief moment, and smiled. The lad had very nice feet. “How come you have brown skin, but the bottoms of your feet are white?” the girl asked curiously. As she asked, she watched the feet closely. They were, like hers, narrow at the heels, but tapered out at the balls of the feet for the toes. Kiran had shorter toes, with a visible toe stem on only the second and third digits. The skin on his soles and toes for the most part was terracotta pale pink, whilst his arches were a slightly lighter shade. But above everything else, they looked hyper tickly, and they felt it too. Just from the initial touches on the lad’s tender, warm feet, the tickler could tell his feet were soft, smooth and well cared for. “Actually they are like that because the bottoms of the feet and palms of the hands don’t se the sun much in India, where I am from. So therefore the skin on the palms and bottoms of the feet are much lighter,” the lad explained. Occasionally when he spoke, a faint Hindi accent emerged. “Be careful with your questions, sweetie,” Jane admonished, though she herself had been curious about it too… “Some people might be uncomfortable with a question like that…” “Oh you’re telling me! People so titchy these days!” Libby exclaimed. “Actually it is quite alright. I am used to people asking me. I think they ask because they’re curious, not because they want to be mean,” the lad replied, grinning. Dixie smiled. “Ready to giggle?” the girl asked. The sweet eight-year-old shook his head and squealed sweetly. “I was born ready!” Kiran replied, giggling. “Oh really… good!” she cried. And with that, the girl placed her nails on the boy’s curved arches and began scribbling with all her might. Immediately, the brown skinned kid jerked his legs back and began twisting and struggling mightily. A bellow of hysterical, high-pitched screechy laughter accompanied the struggling, as did a pair of now wide eyes. The lad’s arches were his weakest spot for his feet, and he screamed furiously as they were scribble tickled. Dixie’s fingers spidered down to the heels and then back up towards the balls of the feet via the arches again. She even spider tickled the sides and tops of the tender feet, and then began working the child’s stubbornly clenched toes. Her nails scrubbed across them, resulting in endless peals of laughter emanating from the youngster’s wide-open mouth. He thrashed about, arching his back into the air and tugging hard at his legs. His toes by now had unscrunched, so Dixie grabbed the two big ones, scratching them with her index fingers. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HOHOHOHOOHHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOAAAHAHAHAHA!” the poor ticklee screamed furiously, still convulsing as cavalcades of laughter streamed out. “These little piggies went to market!” Dixie sang, scratching at the two big toes further. She switched to the next digits. “These little piggies stayed home!” she added. As she moved sequentially down the nursery rhyme, she switched down the toes, before arriving at the last two. She scratch tickled them extra slowly, grinning at her tickle target as she did so. “And these little piggies… they went… WEEWEEWEEWEEWEE ALL THE WAY HOME!” the tickler cried, scribbling her nails down over the balls of the boy’s feet towards his tender arches. “THEY WENT HEEHEEHEEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHO MERHERHERHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Kiran screeched. Dixie giggled at him, and his frantic laughter only encouraged her to keep tickling. She focussed on the boy’s bare arches, exploring them thoroughly, though she did also tickle away at his tender toes again, and the heels, sides, top and balls of the feet. It was all too much for the poor kid to take, and he could only sit there, screaming for all he was worth as the sensations engulfed him. They flew through his nerves to his already overstimulated mind, confusing him even further. All he could do was sit there, cackling away. The girl slowed her sensations down, and her fingers tickled lightly around the arches in small circular motions. As she did so, a second nursery rhyme came into her head. “Round and around the garden, like a teddy bear! One step!” she cried, spidering across the heels. “THAHAHAHAAAAAT’S NAHAHAHAHAT A STEHEHEHEP!” the lad frantically screeched. “Two step!” the girl cried, scrubbing her nails horizontally back and forth across the balls of the lad’s feet. “Quiet, or you’ll make me forget my place and you don’t want that, do you?” the girl asked, grinning as she listened to his intense, high-pitchy and almost banshee-like screamy laughter. “And tickle you under there!” she cried. Her nails now scrubbed hard over the undersides of the little toes. The boy’s digits pulled back and fanned out at this point, and the devious, revenge-seeking tickler giggled, glancing at her mother and Libby. She gestured to the tickle table and the little girl nodded excitedly, her pretty forest green eyes lighting up with exhilaration. “Well, I’ve wanted to do this ever since you did it to me!” Dixie cried, reaching across and picking the two Tween Toe Ticklers up. When Kiran saw them, his eyes just about bulged from their sockets and he shook his head. Tears for fears were written all across his face, and though he knew everyone wants to rule the world, the only one ruling his world right now was Dixie. She had him wrapped right around her little finger, and there was nothing the poor, about to be overwhelmed Indian cutie pie could do about it. “NOOOO! NONONONONONONO! NO! NO! NO! NO! AH! AHAHA! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA MAHAHAHAHKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” the poor kid screeched for all he was worth, thrashing about desperately. Dixie giggled and shook her head. “You really can’t handle it, can you?” she teased, holding both devices to the kid’s arches. She held them there for a few moments, before sliding them up over the balls of the feet, threading them between the toes after titillating under them for fifteen seconds. By now, Kiran was sweating, and tears cascaded down his searing hot cheeks. He felt like he was going to explode. “Tell me Libby… what does he react well to? Should I do the feathers or the electric toothbrush and hairbrush?” Dixie asked. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t you that!” the twenty-three year old replied. But Jane snuck her hand around the young HOTFUB worker and tweaked her side, resulting in a surprised squeal and giggle from the employee. “I have a sudden urge to tell you,” she said, pushing Jane’s hands away. “Good move, because my daughter and I would make you suffer in those things next,” the second woman replied, grinning wickedly. Libby gulped. She remembered her job interview, when her soon to be boss had her in the stocks for fifteen minutes. After that, she really had no idea as to how the boys could last longer than that. She as wiped afterwards… “Well, skip the soft stuff. Electric toothbrushes on his armpits and big toes will destroy him, as will hairbrushes on his feet, focussed naturally on his arches. If you want him to suffer more, the tickle lube he mercifully didn’t use on our delightful tootsies is there too, so if you apply some of that then he’ll be a real screamer,” the girl explained. “Thanks!” Dixie replied sweetly, continuing to torment her ticklee’s tender soles. She placed the little tickle tools on their holders, and returned to the soles, lightly spidering and skittering her nails all over them for a minute longer, before easing off. “I think I’ll leave that there, thanks!” said Dixie, grinning. The young girl was now standing behind the tickle chair. She held her hands out on either side, and then flicked them up into the child’s deep, slightly moist hairless hollows. He shrieked as hard as he possibly could, thrashing about and bouncing from side to side. “SERVES YOU RIGHT! YOU MADE ME PEE MY PANTS!” came a cry from a ten-year-old boy as he ambled past with his mother (and about three thousand bags of shopping). Dixie poked her head out from behind the chair and groaned. All those shopping bags made her feel nauseas, and she felt sorry for the poor kid. At least all their bags were in the car right now. They hadn’t purchased food, so they could get away with doing that, and covering it all up. “Oh dear,” said Jane, smirking. She was quite antsy herself right now. “Am I allowed to go and tickle him?” she asked, peering at Libby. “Oh yeah, go for it. You’d be surprised how many parents join in,” the young lady replied, grinning. At that moment, her computer made a ding, and she raced back over to it. Jane stood up and padded over to Kiran’s tender looking feet and inspected her nails. “OH DEAR PLEASE NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOA AHHHHH! AHHHH! AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!” the kid screeched as the older woman edged closer and closer. Dixie’s nails were still skittering relentlessly all over the lad’s soft hollows, teasing them heavily. She teased the lad’s neck and shoulders briefly as well, before teasing down his ribs with light grazing sensation, to ease his giggles. “So, you decided to tickle my daughter, eh?” Jane teased, crouching beside the boy’s cute bare feet. “NO! NO! SHE ASKED! SHE AHAHAHAHAHAHASKED!” the poor eight-year-old squealed. This wasn’t just physical torture, but psychological as well, and this mother-daughter combo was good at it, too! “Well, then I think the punishment should fir the crime. Time to give you something to really laugh about!” Jane exclaimed, lowering her nails to the lad’s pink, soft, rounded heel and spidering slowly over them. She flicked her nails up over the soft, delightfully tickly soles towards the toes. She bounced her nails off the balls of the feet, like the skin was a trampoline and the skin was pushing her nails back each time she pressed into it. This only succeeded in having Kiran’s laughter reach new heights, and he screamed desperately, pleading for mercy as tears stung his eyes. By now, Dixie’s fingers were digging into the poor lad’s sides, alternating between that and the armpits. Each time she squeezed, the lad’s back arched out, and she spidered her nails all over the ribs as she returned to the delectable hollows. She also claw attacked his stomach with one, poking his tiny innie tummy button with the other. The poor kid’s laughter disappeared, becoming completely silent as the tickles continued to torment his body. Jane was still tormenting the HOTFUB ticklee’s soles right now, raking up and down his soles rapidly and occasionally spidering her nails over the balls of the feet or the undersides of the toes. She’s also tied them back, chuckling as she di so, because the youngster had somehow managed to dislodge the Tween Toe Ticklers’ and scrunch his little digits in protest. But now they were tied back, it was harder for the poor kid to defend his cute soles. Now, Jane’s nails wiggled all over the lad’s arches, starting of with gentle caressing, but building up gradually until she was scribbling rapidly there. That, combined with Dixie’s brutal torture inside the boy’s tender, sweaty hairless hollows, was just about all the kid could take! He screeched desperately and pleaded for mercy, but his cries fell on deaf ears. “We’ll give you mercy!” Dixie cried as she recited a trick her mother usually did to her. “I’ll give you mercy for the next ten second whilst mum and me swap places!” the girl added, giggling rambunctiously. She loved it when her mother would say something like ‘I’ll give you mercy whilst I let you run off for ten seconds’, but only to trick her and chase after her anyway. Those tickles were always very fun. But as predicted, the two swapped places, with Jane standing behind Kiran’s tender pits. She reached into them and began spidering slowly. The boy, with his nerves already on high alert and now feeling ticklier, yelped and jerked about desperately. He thrashed mightily, struggling as hard as he could to pull free, but all he wasn’t going anywhere! “NAW! NAW! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAWWWW!” the ticklee cried as his pits, ribs, sides and stomach were now teased all over. Dixie giggled, picking the two electric toothbrushes up and sliding them over Kiran’s big toes. At first, she treated them like manual toothbrushes, and then built up to turning them on, allowing the boy to experience the vibrations. He screamed again, and then fell into the pit of ticklish despair with silent laughter. But Dixie wasn’t quitting. She kept on teasing, listening to her mother’s taunts of ‘tickle-tickle-tickle’ and ‘cootchie-cootchie-coo!’ Her brushes slid down over the soles to finish off, but that’s when the girl found the tickle lube. “Destroy his pits, mum!” the young girl giggled, as she picked a paintbrush up and applied some of the oil to the bristles. Libby gasped when she saw that, but no one heard her because of Kiran’s frantic screaming. By now, several more onlookers had stopped to come and see what all the commotion was about. Some left, with disgust written all over their face, whilst others styed and watched. The HOTFUB office employee found it surprising that there were more elderly people watching and laughing at the affair. “NAW! NAW! NAW! NAHAHAHAT THE PITS! NAHAHAHAT THE PITS! NAT THE PIHIHIHIHIHEEHEEHEETS AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAAAA AAAAAAGH!” the kid screamed, his voice faltering more and more as the seconds wore on. Time was tireless, but he was tiring – rapidly, too. Jane’s nails scribbled as hard as they could there, but when she saw the oil covered brush, she eased off and returned to sit down with Libby, deciding she’d had enough – and so too had Kiran. Dixie slid the brush all over the boy’s soft soles and toes, applying several more drops of oil and lathering it up. The paintbrush made it tickle even more, which Kiran seemed to really struggle with. He shook his head and giggled excitedly. Throughout the entire tickle, despite his frantic screeching and struggling, the youngster’s eyes had remained full of energy, and he was still smiling broadly. That was about to change, because now his feet were oiled up and super slippery. “You may want to look away now. You may cry, you may laugh… and you may scream. Oh yeah… you’re really gonna scream!” cried Dixie playfully, holding the hairbrush to the lad’s feet. His eyes bugged out of their sockets and a look of pure terror spread across his face. He screamed, just as Dixie had predicted. The brush slid slowly from the left heel up to the toes on the left foot and back down. She scrubbed up and down slowly and lightly at first, but then applied further pressure and speed too, making it tickle even more. Next, she scrubbed the brush across the ball of the foot, and then the arch. Kiran screamed. But this time, his scream had something else attached. “AAAAH!” Dixie screamed, giggling a little in surprise. She glanced back at Libby and Jane. “I made him pee,” she said, blushing a bit and looking suddenly bashful. Libby chuckled and stood up. She grabbed a canvas blind and pulled it across the front of the store. It read ‘WHOOPS! CLEAN UP ON AISLE 9! BEAR WITH US WHILST WE CLEAN THIS SPILLAGE’. The poor kid’s shorts were soaked through now. “Don’t worry about it, Dixie. It happens quite a bit. And you heard that boy ambling passed earlier… so don’t worry about it. You get used to it after a while,” she said, releasing the restraints and fussing over Kiran for a bit. The boy was panting hard, and he was sweating profusely. With the sweating, tears and the accident down south, the young woman was surprised he had any fluid left in him! “Girls are evil!” he moaned through his panting. Dixie and Jane both laughed. “Haha, hey I’m going to get this one into the back room so he can clean up, and then I’ll be back to clean it up. Oh whilst I’m gone, can you please write your names and a contact number, postal address and email address down for me? There’s paper and pen over there by the computer,” Libby said, pointing. “I’ll explain when I return,” she said. Jane wrote her details down on the piece of paper provided. “Were you a bit surprised by that?” she asked kindly. Her voice was warm and full of love. She wasn’t upset with her daughter for pushing Kiran to that accident. It was an accident, after all. “A little. Well… not really. You’ve tickled me to that point before. It happens,” the girl said. “I guess… I hope he doesn’t hate me or anything.” “I see. That’s alright, sweetie. I don’t think he will. Like you said, these things happen.” “Yeah… and I liked how he tickled me hard too. He didn’t back of anything because I’m a girl. I liked that,” the brunette said, smiling. From the backroom, they could hear a shower running. By the sounds of it, thanks to the water main running close by, they were able to hook up to get a portable shower operating for kids having accidents as side effects from the tickles. “That’s clever!” said Dixie, jerking her thumb in the direction of the shower. “See I like how much thought HOTFUB outs into stuff,” she said. At that moment, Libby emerged again, wearing rubber gloves and armed with a bucket of hot, soapy water, hospital grade disinfectant and a cloth, along with some towels. “You’re armed and clean!” Dixie chirped sweetly. “That I am, sweetie,” the young woman replied, grinning as she set to work. She wiped it down, poured boiling water over the device, wiped it down again, and sprayed it with disinfectant before wiping it and washing it again, just to be thorough. Dixie and Jane watched the whole time. “So anyway, I just thought I’d let you know… I was messaging Syd earlier. He said that if he can get your contact details, he’ll try to get you into HOTFUB, Dixie,” said Libby. Upon hearing those words, the young girl cupped her hands over her mouth and grinned broadly, before squealing and jumping up and down in excitement. Libby smiled. “How about that, eh?” Jane exclaimed, smiling warmly. “Now you CAN make your dream come true!” “Yeah! Syd said he’s been hoping to get girls into his company for a while now. He has a few as ticklers, but they leave after a while. So he wants someone as a tickler and lee combo, and I think I’ve found him one. He has to pass it by the board of directors, but if they approve it, then you’ll be auditioning for a special position at HOTFUB,” Libby added. “Yup. It’s all about acceptance, you see. The girls at TOYAAG can’t accept boys or girls who don’t fit in with their beliefs. And we can accept girls and boys of all walks of life,” said Kiran, grinning. He was wearing his tee shirt with a different pair of shorts, and his sandals again. “Besides… it’s the right thing to do,” the lad added. “Yippee!” Dixie squealed, wrapping her arms around the boy and squeezing him tightly. “That means I’ll get to tickle you again!” she exclaimed sweetly. Dread filled the lad’s eyes. “Not before I get you back for making me pee my pants!” the lad cried. They both giggled *** In the following two months, Dixie ended up being granted a position at HOTFUB. Though she didn’t have to, she opted to take the audition. She failed, however this was overlooked since because Kiran was her tickler for the day. Though it started off rocky, the boys eventually soon came to respect Dixie, and spoke highly of her tickling abilities and her ticklee abilities, too. In fact, she was often requested for one-on-one tickle sessions by many of the HOTFUB lads. The audience soon came to appreciate her too, and they too spoke highly of her. By showing Acceptance and displaying diversity, Syd had proven once again that HOTFUB was a strong and revolutionary organization, leaving its only competitor back in the dark ages. It was a masterstroke that would play well into Syd��s hands in a matter of months…

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