#Volkswagen enthusiast

[christmaslightssalesman]

Stunning.

U-District Seattle, 2024.

#aesthetic #aesthetics #seattle #washington #washington state #volkswagen bus #volkswagen #vw #vw enthusiast #Volkswagen enthusiast #classic cars #canon photography #canon #canon eos rp #car photography

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Nudity. Fingering. Hand job. Cum play. Oral sex (M and F receiving). Squirting.

Summary: Things continue to progress between you and Pete, indulging in the slow buildup and all the fun that comes before sex, falling deeper in love with each other as each day passes.

A/N: I am so addicted to writing all these sweet moments between them that gives glimpses of how they are falling in love. There is so much more to come for this story and I am still so excited to share it!

*reader is not described other than having hair despite the photo used in the moodboard. And yes that's Jay and not Pete but LOOK AT HIM. It is so Pete coded I had to.

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pete Dunham Masterlist

---

You had to pull your phone away from your ear the moment the call picked up, the volume of Fiona shouting at you and going on about how worried she was too loud to keep it close, her annoyance at you not having answered her numerous calls not allowed to go unnoticed.

“Nothing happened!” you stressed, your grin splitting your face as you trotted down the sidewalk, listening to her accuse you of being too blissfully fucked out to communicate with your best friend and flatmate.

“Oh, my ass!”

“We kissed. All night.”

“Sure you did…”

“And talked…” you trailed off as you recalled every word and kiss shared, remembering each moment as if it had happened a hundred times over, his lips and voice ingrained in your memory forever. “Fi, I swear this can’t be real.”

“I can hear your grin through the phone. It’s making me ill,” she scoffed, but you could tell without seeing her face that it was in a lovingly teasing way. “And it’s real, so enjoy it, babes, you deserve it.”

Your smile grew even more as you made your way down the steps into the underground, not caring that strangers were noticing your blatant joy and staring at you as they passed.

“Put the kettle on, I’m on my way home.”

The lack of a vehicle was beginning to throw more of a wrench in your daily routine than you could have imaged, the difficulty of getting yourself to and from work let alone Jack to school and back turning into many inconvenient favours owed to Fiona and even Swill, and with neither one of them available to help today, you were relying on your very own knight in shining armour.

You yawned, your day having started earlier than you would’ve liked due to having to take the tube to your sister’s from Fiona’s in order to get there just as she was rushing out the door to work, praying you would get another coffee in your system soon.

“He’s here, Jack! Get a move on!” you called up the stairs, grabbing your purse and Jack’s cleats as he bounded down excitedly while sliding his arms through the straps of his backpack.

“Morning, Mr. Dunham!” Jack bellowed, practically skipping to Pete’s car as you locked the door to your sister's place.

“Morning, mate,” Pete greeted, his smile beaming as he stood in the open door of his car. He ruffled Jack’s hair as he flew past him and scooted into the backseat, tossing his things in unceremoniously as if getting into his teacher’s car was the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Pete winked at you over the roof of his perfectly maintained, claret red Volkswagen, his hands tapping on it enthusiastically as his cheeks stretched even more on his face at seeing your own beautiful grin dress yours.

“Right,” he started, shutting his door after sitting back down in the driver’s seat. “Seatbelts on.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, then at you, his expression somewhat stern.

You looked at Jack to make sure he was doing as instructed as you fastened your own, giggling when Pete gave a pleased nod and leaned across the console to get close to you.

“You’re precious cargo,” he murmured, kissing you quickly, laughing as he pulled away when Jack began complaining about it.

For the first morning ever, you didn’t mind the commute from your sister’s house to your office, content with spending time with Pete before your workday, getting to admire him as he focused on driving while you sat comfortably in the passenger seat.

He sang pretty much the entire time, listening to a mixed CD he had burned, and it surprised and warmed your heart to see your nephew singing along to what words he knew, remembering Jack telling you how Pete often played music during class while they were working.

Stopping at a red light, Pete took your hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to it as many times as he could before the light turned again, checking in his rearview mirror to see Jack looking out the window smiling.

“How uncool do you reckon it is to show up at school with your teacher?” Pete asked, his question serious even though it initially made you laugh, seeing his brows knitted together as he stroked his thumb over his lower lip.

You looked back at Jack who was still in his glory, nodding his head along to “Supersonic” by Oasis, and then back at Pete, recognizing just how important his reputation and influence was not only to his firm and all the others in England, but also to his students.

You reached for his hand, rubbing your thumb across it before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I think it’s different when your teacher is your idol.”

Pete couldn’t hide his smile even though he tried, licking his lips as he concentrated on the road again, his happiness making you wish the repairs on your car took longer than anticipated so you could do this for many mornings to come.

“Fucking hell,” Pete panted, his head knocking against the wall as you trailed your mouth down his neck, your hands slipping under his jumper to feel his abdomen expand and contract wildly under your touch, the desperation to have each other growing each time you were alone.

You had just returned to his flat after going out for a meal with Dave and Clair, unable to keep your hands to yourselves even in their company, the feel of Pete’s hand resting on your thigh all night in a confidently claiming way driving you insane.

It had been a mutual decision to take things slowly, carefully and progressively building up to the inevitable, the anticipation adding to the excitement of it all and making every moment with Pete feel that much more special.

It had been two days since your sleepover, the brief time spent together since without being able to be physical making you curious to know where things were going to take you now, but the way he had been kissing you in the back of the taxi told you he wasn’t going to ever leave you unsatisfied.

Your lips found his again after assaulting his neck and chest until it was made red from your attention, his blush spreading up onto his cheeks as he became more worked up, sweat starting to appear on his skin that allowed your hands to glide easily along it.

He pulled your lip with his teeth out of restraint as you ran your palm over the bulge in his jeans, stroking him through the material until his cock was pressing against it almost painfully, your fervor increasing as you appreciated his size.

Jackets were torn off and left abandoned on the floor wherever they fell, your shirt, and then his, following suit as you blindly stumbled away from the door and into the living room, Pete laughing as he crashed into his foosball table.

“Sorry!” you giggled, the words you were going to use to ask if he was okay dying before they had the chance to pass your lips, feeling numb from the way Pete was looking at you, his crooked smile and hands clasping your face as he leaned in to kiss you again making you forget about anything else.

He pulled you along with him into his bedroom, not stopping in kissing you even when you both frantically worked to unfasten each other’s pants, only breaking when you had to rush to kick them off your feet and catch your breath.

Pete smiled and took a sharp inhale, taking a second to admire you in your bra and panties, watching your eyes cloud over with lust as you admired him in his burgundy boxers that were no longer leaving much to the imagination.

He closed the space between you and crashed against your lips again, his hands holding your neck and jawline to increase the depth of his tongue in your mouth, moaning when he felt your fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers and edge them down his legs.

Your own moans of approval rang out when you felt his cock spring free, your hand catching it and stroking his length base to tip, your thumb smoothing over his head.

Shivers rushed down your spine as Pete unhooked your bra and peeled it off of you, the sensation of his fingers and the lace delicately slipping along your arms and chest making you ache, your heart pounding when he pulled you closer to him so you were pressed together.

His lips traveled from yours and down your neck, peppering along your shoulder as he breathed you in, your head tipping back at how incredible something so simple felt.

Continuing his worship of you, he kissed down your upper arm and across your chest, sitting on the bed as he did, allowing for a better height for his mouth to line up to your breasts.

Forced to release his cock from your hold, you stood between his legs with the help of his guidance, whining as your nails dug into the flesh on his upper back when his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, flicking and sucking it until it hardened to his attention.

“Pete…” you breathed, both a praise and plea.

He didn’t stop, repeating the same on your other breast, his hands gently slipping down your waist until they caught on the lace of your panties and slowly peeled them down your hips and thighs until they pooled on the floor.

Once you were naked, he wrapped his arm around your legs and bum and tugged you forward, forcing you onto the bed with him where you landed wrapped together in his unmade sheets, his smile bright as he shifted and looked at you lovingly. He ran his hand over your hair, dipping his face down so his smile met the one you returned to him, your hands squeezing his body as you held him close to you.

You smiled as you reached up to trace his lips, his soft laugh making your heart soar as he placed his forehead against yours and nudged your nose back and forth, both of your smiles fading as the weight of this moment settled in.

Pete’s hand slowly trailed down your side and onto your hip, scooping your thigh to sling it over his waist, your breath pausing in your lungs as you waited for him to touch you, his fingers carefully gliding between your bodies until he landed home.

You gasped, releasing the air you had been holding in, the sensation of him swiping through your slick folds before pushing his middle and index finger inside you making you moan and grip his shoulder without regard to how your nails were leaving half-moon indentations in his skin.

The groan that tumbled from his parted lips in appreciation of how wet you were for him made your arousal increase even more, unable to help yourself from grinding your hips against his hand for more friction where you needed it most.

“Fuck,” he swore as he exhaled, hooking his fingers to massage you as if he knew the very spot that would make your legs tremble, and while you indulged in his generosity of pleasuring you, it was impossible to forget about him, taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock again.

Spreading the precum that was leaking heavily from the tip, you stroked him up and down, feeling every vein pulse as his shaft flexed and twitched to your touch, his hips bucking forward slightly, causing him to work you with more fervor.

A breathy moan passed his lips before he brought them to yours, gently and almost to test it out as if he hadn’t kissed you a thousand times already, meeting your lips more confidently when you reciprocated eagerly.

You never stopped once, exchanging breaths and slow kisses the entire time your hands explored each other, the addicting sensation of Pete’s long fingers moving in and out of you expertly while his thumb circled your clit keeping you on the brink and ready to fall when he allowed for it.

“Are you gonna come for me, beautiful?” he uttered, his voice thick with lust, his eyes heavy-lidded when he parted from you enough to look at your swollen lips and the way you squirmed beside him.

“Fuck, Pete…” you whined, gyrating against his hand, prompting him to amp up his already-perfect efforts.

“That’s it, darling,” he groaned, his mouth hovering against yours as he felt you tighten around his fingers.

You somehow managed to continue pumping his cock even through the build-up of your climax, desperate to drag him along with you and to experience what you hoped would be the first of many simultaneous orgasms, but Pete had a determination that was unmatched.

He alternated between hitting your g-spot and rubbing your tingling clit, massaging both precisely, causing you to inadvertently halt your movements on him as your climax ripped through you violently.

“Good girl, fuck…” he hissed, watching you fall apart under his touch, your body so beautifully reacting to the pleasure he provided, the noises spilling from your lips sounding better than he could have imagined.

Stilling his fingers but not removing them from you, he kissed you until he felt your walls release the grip you had on them, growling into your mouth in discovering how much your creamy slick had coated his hand.

You wrapped the hand that wasn’t holding his throbbing cock around the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you, kissing him hard to show your gratitude as you resumed jerking him off.

“Hang on,” he murmured, his brow furrowed as he took his hand that was between your legs and gripped his cock with it, spreading your juices on himself, more curses coming out of his mouth as he did. Somewhat forcefully, he grabbed your hand and placed it back around him, guiding your pace for a moment before sliding his fingers between your legs again, swiping through your soaked and sensitive folds back and forth until your cries encouraged him to drive them inside your aching hole.

You kept the tempo he had set, not faltering even when occasionally adding a pass of your thumb over his head, feeling him begin to lose control with each second. His free hand moved to cup your face, the gold of his ring cold against your burning cheek, his tongue rolling with yours vigorously as he ground his body against yours.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound guttural and primal, his lips breaking from yours briefly as he came harshly, his hot spend shooting out onto your lower belly and core where he didn’t let up on his ministrations.

His breathing was sharp and heaving, and you didn’t notice yours turning to be the same, focused on the feeling of his thumb smearing his cum over your clit that threw you into another shattering high.

He let you ride out your second climax, relishing in every blissful aftershock of it, your breaths gradually slowing together as your kisses became lazier and less hurried. Pete smiled against your lips as he gradually pulled away, his eyes bright and full of joy and promise of more.

“I’ll go get a towel, yeah?” he spoke softly and winked, looking at the mess he had made on your bodies, but thinking how fucking good you looked covered in his cum.

Pete tossed the soiled towel down on the floor and sighed as he lay back on his pillow, lifting his arm for you to slip underneath it, your head laying on his chest like you were made to fit in the space against his side.

Your fingers danced on his skin, tracing his West Ham crest adoringly, the happiness buzzing through you unlike anything else you had felt before.

He kissed the top of your head, his voice sounding tired and comfortably sleepy when he spoke.

“Are you going to stay the night?”

You beamed, relieved he couldn’t see your grin from his angle.

“I was considering it…”

Pete chuckled as he rolled over to cage you under his body, smiling down at you while giving you a playful look, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“You’re dreaming if you think I’m letting you leave.”

What felt like an explosion of nerves burst in your stomach the closer you came to Steve and Shannon’s home, and you found yourself appreciating the decent walk from Bank Station in the brisk evening air, filling your lungs with it with each breath to try to calm yourself.

Like he sensed your unease, Pete squeezed your hand that he held in his, glancing over at you as he walked with his usual certainty.

“They’re gonna love you,” he reassured, his smile making you believe him a little bit. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” you hummed, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued taking strides together, smiling and returning his consolation by squeezing his hand back.

After a few more minutes of walking and being distracted by one of Pete’s insane fighting stories, he slowed and turned to lead you up the steps to the porch of a posh townhome, feeling yourself straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath as he hit the doorbell, the wink and smile he shot in your direction helping you steel yourself.

“Hi, bruv,” Pete greeted excitedly when Steve answered the door, walking through it when he stepped out of the way for you both to enter.

He introduced you with pride to Steve and Shannon, and as soon as the formalities were out of the way and Steve had taken your coats, you felt any unease about meeting them completely vanish.

“What’s this?” Steve asked when Pete handed him a bag before seeing himself through to the kitchen.

Pete scoffed, speaking over his shoulder, “Wine, a baguette, dessert…” he listed, like he was offended Steve was asking.

The look Steve gave him made you smirk, confusion written all over his face.

“Pete, when have you ever brought anything?”

“Bollocks!” Pete responded, his grin revealing the truth behind his brother’s accusation, giving you a look like you shouldn’t believe it as he opened the refrigerator door and helped himself to a beer.

“I see you’re already having a positive effect on him,” Steve said to you. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of wine would be great, thank you,” you smiled, already finding the relationship between the two Dunham brother’s endearing and ultimately entertaining.

Pete was on cloud nine, smiling to himself as he went into the kitchen with a stack of dirty plates, hearing your infectious laugh sound through from the dining room, having hit it off with his brother and sister-in-law effortlessly.

He wanted to show you off to everyone he knew, so proud to be with someone as beautiful and incredible as you, and he knew his mum would love you to pieces when he eventually was able to introduce you to her as well.

“That’s going well then, is it?” Steve asked, coming in and grabbing another bottle of wine from the rack beside the fridge.

“Yeah, it is,” Pete nodded, half expecting a negative comment or some sort of warning to come out of Steve’s mouth next, bracing for it as he retrieved dessert plates out of the cupboard.

“She’s really great, Pete. You suit each other.”

Pete turned to look at him, his eyebrows hooked high in shock, and he became even more surprised to see the genuine expression on his brother’s face when he did.

“I mean it, you know,” Steve stressed, seeing Pete’s doubt. “I’m really pleased for ya, mate, so is Shan. It’s nice seeing you happy.”

“I was happy before,” Pete countered, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, not questioning that they adored you but rather that Steve was about to lecture him on something about life meaning more than how he had lived it up until now and suggesting for him to leave the firm and fighting behind.

“Yeah, but this is different, innit?”

Pete nodded as he glanced over at his brother again, smiling when he saw his honesty hadn’t faded.

Steve stepped forward and embraced Pete, a hug something that was very seldom shared between them, but Pete welcomed it gladly, patting Steve’s back aggressively and lifting him up slightly, making Steve curse and groan.

“Thanks, ya old geezer,” Pete laughed, refocusing on his task of setting out dessert while Steve uncorked the bottle of red, both brothers smiling out of appreciation and gratitude for how life was turning out after everything they had been through.

It was hard to peel your eyes away from him despite the pleasure he was providing you feeling so divine it was nearly impossible to keep them from closing, the half of his face that wasn’t currently obstructed looking heavenly as he indulged between your legs.

His brows were knitted together, his focus and pride in his work written out on his expression as he ate at you appreciatively, the way his hands dug into the flesh on your hips yet another signal of his enthusiasm in being able to taste you.

Your fingers carded languidly through his short hair, it feeling velvety against the inside of your trembling hand before his tongue hit that perfect spot he kept finding and teasing and made you grip his scalp with a plea for mercy, your hips lifting off the bed as your cries filled the air.

Pete was more than generous when it came to pleasuring you, having already made you come twice on his tongue and fingers that didn’t leave the intoxicating comforts at the apex of your thighs, his drive to coax another orgasm out of you something to be awarded.

His moans told you all you needed to know about how much he loved tasting you, although he was sure to utter the words between licking and eating up all you had to offer, his praise making you soar and feel like a goddess even though you were simply laying there and doing nothing but being spoiled.

You smiled, feeling yourself grow more deranged from ecstasy as you neared another climax, unable to believe how lucky you were to find a man who clearly loved the act of performing oral more than you had ever experienced, his talent and passion for it evident in each swipe and suck, your pleasure the only priority.

“Pete!” you wailed, trembling on the mattress as he drove his fingers in and out in the way he learned drove you insane, his lips sucking on your clit to make you reach your high once more.

It felt different, more intense than all the orgasms he’d given you already, a pressure coiling tightly at the base of your spine, your whole body tensing.

“Relax, love,” he encouraged, pausing only long enough to say the words before returning to his position, his fingertips brushing your g-spot a few more times before withdrawing them completely from you, his tongue flicking your clit to finish the job.

You screamed, your body convulsing as a rush of wet exploded from you, soaking his face that he kept buried in your cunt as he drank up all he lured out of you.

“Holy shit, Pete,” you panted, your chest heaving wildly as you fought to catch your breath and comprehend what just happened, every part of you tingling and alight from such an intense pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of experiencing.

Pete hummed against you, shifting slightly as he moved his lips from your over-sensitive folds onto your thigh, his eyes full of lust as he glanced up at you.

Licking his lips, he sat up on the bed, a deep breath filling his lungs as he tried to keep control of himself, his voice deep and gravelly when he spoke.

“I fucking knew you were going to taste that good.”

His continued praise left you breathless, and although you barely had any strength left in your limbs, you propped yourself up on your elbows and met him in a kiss that tasted of your tangy essence.

One of your hands pressed gently on his chest to encourage him to stand while your other found his cock that strained with a need for your attention that you were so desperate to give it, moving off the bed with him as you slowly rubbed his length.

You reluctantly broke your kiss as you sank to your knees in front of him, keeping eye contact as you did, your hand remaining on his cock as the other slid down his defined abs to his toned thigh. His muscles trembled when you pressed your lips on his groin, then a little further down on his leg, your nose brushing along his heated skin that smelled so incredible it made your mouth water.

You swallowed thickly, bringing your lips to his leaking tip, smoothing it across them before parting them enough to invite him into your mouth, still managing to hold his stare as you did.

“Fuck, babe,” he hissed, his eyes clouding with a hazy ecstasy.

Moaning as you took him fully in the heat of your mouth, you relished in his taste and smell, your nose landing in the wheat-coloured hairs at the base of his cock that held that musky scent you were now addicted to.

Your hand clawed into his quad as you brought your head as close to his body as you could, his cock slamming into the back of your throat as a result, a shiver running through you to make your nipples harden and you to shift your knees on the floor to spread your legs apart.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, your eyes closing as you relished in his praise, his words encouraging you to make him feel as good as he had made you.

You gave him all you had, sucking and swirling your tongue around from base to tip over and over, bobbing on and off of his size that made you gag, but you never let up, hearing his groans and curses falling from his parted lips that made you even more eager to taste his load.

Gently, you cupped his sack, massaging it at the same time you moved him in and out of your mouth vigorously, feeling him tense and throb to your efforts.

Glancing up to check his expression to be sure everything you were doing was feeling as mind-blowing as you hoped, you carefully rubbed your knuckles against the spot behind his balls, increasing the pressure when you saw his mouth slacken and his eyelids shut.

“That’s it, fuck!”

His hips began to match your tempo, his hand carefully landing on the back of your head to remind you what he could do if you dared to stop, his subtle demand for you to keep on exactly how you were making your own arousal leak from you and drip onto the floor.

Pete stopped moving, instead digging his fingers into your scalp, his breathy grunts and moans signaling his end that made you work with even more enthusiasm until you felt him pulse into your mouth in powerful spurts.

You moaned appreciatively as you swallowed his thick, hot cum, still swirling your tongue around his girth until a shaky laugh rang out above you.

“Fuck me,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair as he watched you release him from your mouth with a pop as you sucked off the last bits seeping from his tip.

Pete held out his hand to help you up, nodding at the bed behind you, a mischievous look dressing his flushed face.

“Sit.”

It was exhilarating, wondering what he was planning now, trusting him completely while also indulging in the curious excitement mixing with nervousness that the look in his eyes gave you, and obediently, you did as you were told.

Pete kneeled between your legs, smiling proudly as he guided your feet to rest on the edge of the mattress, spreading you open wide for him to access all of your fresh slick that had accumulated in your folds.

“I’m not nearly done with you yet, darling.”

Pete woke up sometime in the early hours of the morning, having stayed up well past midnight due to the simple fact that neither of you could get enough of each other, indulging in discovering every bit of the other with your hands and mouths again and again until you eventually grew too weak and tired to tolerate anymore pleasure.

The window was open just as Pete had it any other night, the sounds of the other sleepless people of East London drifting into his bedroom along with the chilly air. A lazy smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, thinking how it couldn’t be possible to have ever been as comfortable in his bed as he was now, your presence beside him something he didn’t want to go without again.

He sighed as he shifted closer to you, moving his arm around your torso to tuck your back against his front even more, the warmth that was pouring off of you contrasting drastically to the cold clinging to the duvet. Nestling his nose into your neck, he searched for your hand in the dark, lacing your fingers together when he found it.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered, his voice sluggish, feeling you stir beside him as a soft whimper escaped you.

Sunday’s were already a favourite of his, a typical one spent down at The Abbey having pints with the boys or in the stadium cheering the Hammers on at home, but knowing he was going to wake up with you still in his arms had him looking even more forward to it.

If anyone had asked Pete a list of things he loved only a month or two ago he would’ve given his usual answer; football. West Ham United. The GSE. Scrapping other firms and the feeling that came with it. Teaching. Music and books. The soothing feeling of a pint on his hoarse throat after screaming through a match or the sting of a bruise on his face that reminded him of the minor injuries he had forgotten.

Never would he have considered the list changing to this.

You. Your smile and laugh. The way you looked at him. The way his heart jumped each time he saw your name on his phone or heard your sweet voice on the other end. The feel of your lips on his, or how supple your skin was against his palms whenever he touched you. Not to mention the way your quiet moans would grow whenever he did.

Pete inhaled deeply, drawing in your warm scent, knowing that if you weren’t wrapped up with him right now he would still have a difficult time believing this was real.

Something he never thought was possible. Something he never even considered as an option before his life had been completely turned upside down and nearly stolen from him.

Loving you was the best thing he had ever done in his life, and if it all vanished tomorrow with the rise of the sun, Pete would feel lucky to have experienced even half of what he had so far.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked from the back seat, noticing that you had deviated from your usual route to his house from his guitar practice.

“You’ll see!” you chimed, trying your best to relax as you drove, the anxiety you felt about being back behind the wheel ever-present, but knowing where you were headed was helping to keep you calm.

It was a relief to have your car out of the repair shop, no longer having to bum rides off of anyone or take the tube during the busiest parts of the day, but the convenience and gratitude you felt for having your independence again didn’t outshine the slight panic that lingered just below the surface, especially whenever Jack was with you.

The Stone Roses came on the radio, hearing the intro to “I Wanna Be Adored” bringing out your smile and making you turn the dial up, the lyrics allowing you to relax into your seat and loosen your grip on the steering wheel slightly.

Humming along, you felt your heart ache with that wonderful fullness that was becoming both familiar and craveable, the desire to chase it any time a thought of Pete came into your mind or a text from him came up on your phone a high you never wanted to end, the same feeling now related to songs you listened to together.

I don’t have to sell my soul,

He’s already in me.

The lyrics felt like a gospel, the words speaking the truth about how consumed by Pete you already were, the thought of having to sell your heart or soul laughable as you had handed it all over willingly and not once hesitated to do so.

You pulled up to the pitch where Pete and the other members of the GSE were playing a friendly game of football, seeing Jack’s face light up when you looked in the rearview mirror after putting the car in park.

“We’re only stopping for a bit,” you explained, not wanting him to think he was getting out of going home in time for tea and to do his homework.

The rain had been consistently falling all day, but that never stopped the love for the game, not minding being out in it now when you saw how happy they all were beneath the layers of mud and water.

Pete had just finished scoring a goal when he saw you and Jack standing at the sidelines, smiling brightly as he jogged over to you.

“Aye, aye!” he called, slowing before he crashed into you, his cold hands grabbing your cheeks as he planted an enthusiastic kiss on your lips.

“Hiya, love,” he murmured when he pulled away, sending you a wink before nodding over at Jack and ruffling his hair.

“Eh, Jack, you’re in, mate.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, go for it! You’ll be doing better than me,” he laughed. “My leg could do with a break, plus, these old geezers are all slowing down and getting tired so you’ll dodge around them no problem.”

Jack looked at you for permission to which you nodded and laughed, “Yes! Your cleats are still in my car from yesterday.”

“Yes!” Jack celebrated, jumping up and down on the spot before running back to the car to get his gear.

“You’ve just made his day,” you smiled, nudging Pete’s arm with your elbow as you swayed on the spot, wondering how they were all managing to stay warm when they were soaked through to their skin.

“Ah, he’s a good lad,” Pete complimented, both of you watching as he hurriedly changed his shoes and ran out onto the field where he was welcomed excitedly by Ned and Dave.

You couldn’t help but giggle, seeing Jack burst out laughing as Dave told him about Bovver’s bummed knee, explaining to him ways to twist him up and get around him fast enough he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Within a few minutes, the lads were all amping Jack up, calling him “Beckham” only to be corrected that he wanted to be like Ferdinand, and cheering and going on more than usual any time he got a goal, making the kid beam.

“Did you have a good day, darling?” Pete asked, taking your hand in his where he pulled you into him, his lips peppering over your forehead.

“It’s better now,” you sighed, allowing yourself to lean into him despite him being soaking wet.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You make everything better, Pete.”

You felt him hum, his chest rumbling with his approval at the same time his arms held you tighter, allowing you to inhale deeply to capture the mix of sweat, rain and fresh air as you nuzzled your face against him.

The tender moment lasted momentarily when Pete began shouting jeers at the boys, making you laugh the louder and more offensive his words became toward his mates, his body shaking as he began to crack up as well.

“Come on, Ned, the lad is almost taller than you!�� Pete teased, promptly holding up his middle finger to Ned after being given one on each hand in response to his insult.

He chuckled and then kissed the top of your head before flicking your hood up to cover it, holding onto the edges to make sure it stayed up and shielded you as much as it could from the rain.

“I should get in there and put those idiots in their places,” he smiled, his blue eyes bright against the gloomy sky.

“Yeah, I need to get the little lad home,” you explained. “Thank you for this. You always make him feel like a star.”

Pete smirked, pulling out the creases around his mouth. “Ah, it’s all good, darling.”

Still holding onto your hood, he dipped in and kissed you, once and then again, unable to get enough, both of you losing focus on his return to the match and your departure.

“Why is it always impossible to say goodbye to you?” you accused, pulling your lip in your teeth until he kissed you again and forced you to release it.

“I get that a lot.”

He laughed when you squeezed him, the sound of it adding to the intoxication he had over you, and you melted even more when it quickly faded into a moan of desire when his lips met yours again, his kiss deepening with a sudden desperation.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Ike’s voice rang out through the mix of someone else shouting for you to get a room and Jack yelling “Gross!”.

“Lovebirds?” Pete asked, his amusement clear in his grin as he laughed again and kissed you through his smile.

“Yeah,” you spoke against his lips, happy to confirm the sentiment.

He pulled away from you with a groan after another intense kiss, biting his lip this time out of restraint, his head shaking back and forth while looking at you hungrily.

“Mm. I'll be getting my hands on you later.”

Warmth spread through you, your love and arousal blooming for him even more in anticipation of what was coming next for you, seeing promises of intense pleasure glowing in his eyes as he stepped backwards and turned to jog back onto the pitch.

---

Part 5

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[purplelupins]

Happy Together

Part I Part II Part III

|The Black Phone|

Albert Shaw x Fem!reader

Summary: Nothing like a new city. You just wanted a fresh start, and something comfortable, but what happens when you start to see the exact same patterns in Denver as you did before?

Warnings: the following warning are for the full fic, and not just this first chapter. PLEASE READ THEM. This is a DARK fic.

Dub-con (note that this is a link so it is actually wanted), Daddy kink, size kink, pet names (princess, kiddo, sweetheart, honey and more) mentions of death (including murder, torture etc), cumming in pants, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f and m) begging, breeding kink, innocence kink, biting, adultery, infidelity, stalking, mentions of kidnapping, home break-in, fighting (verbal and physical)…more will be added.

MINORS DO NOT READ THIS. IF YOU ARE A MINOR AND READ ANY OF MY WORK ILL TAKE IT AS DISRESPECT FOR MY BOUNDARIES. GO TOUCH GRASS

Notes: yes we know I’m bad at summaries. This is an extended fic request for my dear friend @mandowifey

There is an original character in this story named Richard and the face claim I am using is Hamish Linklater (specifically his role in Tell Me Your Secrets)

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Albert Shaw.

50’s.

Single.

Egg and sprite enthusiast.

Hypnotic.

Part time magician.

You watched him leave for work almost everyday now; taking notes of his tendencies and quirks as if he were an animal in the zoo. Now that you had spent a sufficient amount of time around him, you had seen Al laugh, and smile briefly at Samson, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see anything but a predator showing off it’s canines before it plunges them into the unsuspecting prey. But you, of course, were not unsuspecting in the least. Certainly your little heart beat away in your chest like it would run to safe ground if you let it -and oh how you wished you could- but you knew you couldn’t just run, if you ever confirmed your suspicions.

You wondered if Albert Shaw had ever seen another person like him, or if he had taken the city of Denver as his territory. You wondered if he even knew what he was, and if those tendencies were still dormant. What you did know, however, was that seeing eyes like those still startled you to this day. Hell, you still remembered the first time you had seen a predator amongst the sheep like him.

Washington, 1974.

University of Washington Library.

He was handsome, and had a charming smile; not terribly tall or intimidating. In fact he looked like the ideal “perfectly nice young man”. Someone you would see at a neighbourhood cookout, or a birthday party.

But just like the man pulling away in his black van 20 feet from your window, he too had had those blue eyes that had made your fight or flight instincts go haywire. He had driven a Volkswagen Beetle though, not a van.

It wasn’t that you even spoke to one another- you had been in too deep of a conversation with a professor, but a glance was all you had needed.

Lifeless eyes.

It didn’t matter how many crinkles formed beside them or how sweet the laughter was, the eyes of a killer were and remain all the same. Devoid, and homicidal.

Not to be confused with the stare of a person who had given up on life like a mother of too many children or a middle aged man with an erectile disfunction.

But you had wandered into the handsome wolf’s den, so to speak, and getting out would be no easy task. You knew your heart still beat too hard when you saw that tall lean frame of Albert Shaw, you couldn’t lie to yourself, but a predator was a predator, and you couldn’t just roll over and beg that he didn’t hurt you. He’d go right for your jugular if your perception of him was correct.

-

“And would you like whipped cream with that, sir?” You asked sweetly, jotting down the man’s order as his wife glared unnecessary daggers into your head. Evidently friendliness was not something that was taken as a virtue in Denver…or perhaps it was just amongst unhappy couples. The poor man looked like he had the life sucked out of him, while his wife resembled a preened peacock; you knew he could use some extra kindness, even if it cost you a tip.

His wife inhaled sharply as she tapped her spoon on her coffee cup from stirring it. “No he-“

“Actually- yes I think I’ll uh…indulge. Thank you sweetie.” He barely even registered that his wife had tried to interject, and you paused for a moment to see if she would erupt into flames, but ultimately wrote down what you were told before you spun on your heel and ripped off the paper for the cooks.

A low-volume quarrel behind you was enough to tell you that this would not be a pleasant table to wait on. But while you contemplated caring a little less, you considered that little look of joy in the man’s eyes when you asked if he wanted the whipped cream, and you really couldn’t make his life any more miserable- not without regretting it.

“Phil?” You called to one of the cooks through the window to the kitchen.

“Yea hunny?” He turned and smiled. Phil Hander wasn’t a tall man, but he was round, and had red cheeks that reminded you of Santa.

Nice man. Loved his food.

“I just put in an order for table 6 over there, but can you add a little extra whipped cream to the pancakes? I think the poor soul could use some.” You winked, and he cracked a smile.

“You got it.” He said before turning back to the eggs he was frying.

You gave your thanks, and let out a long sigh that sat in your lungs as you turned back to the long wrap-around counter. Once you made the full turn, however, you found yourself nearly leaping out of your skin at the sight that greeted you.

“Fancy seeing you here, kiddo.”

That voice had you bolted to the spot for only a second before you recovered and fixed your smile.

What the heck is he doing here?

“Mr. Shaw! Can’t say I’ve ever noticed you coming to this side of town- do you work nearby or is this just a little coincidence?” You asked, getting him a cup of coffee like a good girl.

“No.” He rasped.

A blank answer- something he did often, you had noticed.

You wanted to fidget.

To roll your eyes.

To do something at his short and inconsequential answer…but you couldn’t.

So you just laughed and said “Alright. Can I get you anything? Eggs?” You asked. Your food suggestion had you nearly crying from laughter inside at your own joke. That man had enough eggs to feed an army in his fridge, certainly he wouldn’t eat more when he went out for food?

“Just the coffee.” He said, looking down the bar at nothing in particular.

Again, you nodded. “I’ll check on you in a few.”

And while you held your composure and did your best to put yourself at ease, you were squirming on the inside. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end; your muscles felt tight; your hearing felt too sharp. You were on high alert- senses peaking too fast just like they had in Washington.

You didn’t even know why really. It wasn’t as if you had actually seen him do anything or say anything of consequence since meeting him. If anything, he was very indifferent and tired of all of Max’s talk of that person- The Grabber and his many conspiracies. But there was just…something there. Something wrong.

You made your rounds with the steaming pot of coffee in your grip, including a stop at table 6 which earned you another harsh look, and a sharp intake of breath from the wife as she no doubt prepared a snide remark about you taking your time. Not that you gave her the time to do so before you were bouncing away to table 3.

All the while, however, you couldn’t help but feel those predatory eyes on you. Blue and sharp. You knew he was watching you. You wondered if he knew you knew…he had to. Why else would he be there? Was he trying to snuff you out before you could substantiate your gut feeling?

Once you had stalled enough in talking to one of your many regulars, you went back to the kitchen to retrieve a few orders, and cast a smile at the man hunkered over his coffee as he read a newspaper. “Still doing alright, Mr. Shaw?” You chirped to him.

“Unless you have coffee that tastes like peaches, I think I’m doin’ fine.” Al drawled, not even looking up from the forth page of the newspaper.

Jerk.

“Can’t say we do!” You tried to lighten the mood up to bo avail.

“Then I guess I’m doing just dandy.” He murmured, and scratched at the light stubble on his chin.

Then why are you staring at me, fucko?

“Great!” You forced out, and left him to serve the warm food in your hands.

This went on for a good ten minutes. You would top up your coffee pot, take orders and serve food that came through the window- almost like normal if it weren’t for the very big thorn in your side.

You took the newly finished order for table 6, and just as you had asked, there was a beautiful cloud of cream on top of the man’s pancakes, and you smiled genuinely as you walked to the table.

You couldn’t care less about how his wife’s food turned out, but regardless you served her first and relayed her order to ensure it was correct, then when she gave you a passive aggressive smile, you placed the pancakes down.

“And there you are sir! I’ll have you know the cream is fresh this morning and,” You looked at his wife quickly before lowering you voice just for him, “I may or may not have put a couple fingers into the bowl myself.” You winked and put your finger to your lips as if you were telling a deep secret, “Don’t tell anyone okay?” You whispered.

The man stared at you and you swore you saw his ears go pink. “Won’t tell a soul.” He murmured.

“Richard we need to be there fo- you haven’t started eating yet?” His wife burst, finally paying attention to her spouse just as you pulled away from his ear.

The man, Richard, jumped in his seat. You smiled at them both and said, “Enjoy your meal!” Before walking back to the counter.

You had half hoped that when you went back, a certain Mr. Shaw would no longer be there, but to your dismay, he was indeed still sat on one of the stools. This time, however, the paper was nearly finished, and you found yourself nervous that he might attempt a conversation…as if you would be able to hold one and remain normal.

“You must really enjoy your job, hm?” He murmured from behind you as you placed a new pot of coffee on the brew.

Your brow furrowed and you turned back with a slight tilt to your head in question, “It isn’t that bad. Can’t complain.” You shrugged your shoulders.

Then, Al finally folded the newspaper and looked up at you, and you got the same “deer caught in the headlights” feeling.

“That wife might.” He nodded over his shoulder.

Your hair began to stand on end. This sort of condescension and allusion wasn’t new to you at all…it was a good tactic for a predator like him to ensnare his prey, so to speak. Make them want to prove something to him, seek his approval. Tell him that “No I’m a good girl!” just like he would want to hear.

You blinked and straightened your back. “There isn’t anything wrong with being friendly, Mr. Shaw. Maybe you should try it.” The words were out before you could stop them. You were a nice person, but you definitely knew how not to be one, too.

“You might want to try and watch what you say. Some people don’t take kindly to a lack of manners.” Al rasped, and drank from his cup.

You sighed, but kept that practiced smile on your face, “I probably should. Good thing you’re not my daddy or I bet you’d have me bent over your knee.” It was most likely not the smartest come-back you could have made to Albert, but it his eyes widening and jaw clenching made it a little more worth it; even if it did put your head on the metaphorical or literal chopping block.

It seemed luck was on your side when you heard the bubbling of the coffee pot, marking its readiness; you grasped it with without looking, and sent him one more smile before making about your rounds again.

Albert ground his molars, and sipped at his coffee a little too harshly.

Brat.

The click of your shoes on the checkerboard tile calmed you, and gave you something to focus on as you stretched that smile of yours. You were starting to believe that Al was just a disgruntled older man who needed to get out more; each interaction felt akin to a kitten playing with a ball of yarn…though sometimes you had to wonder which one of you was which.

Then you came back around to the table with the nice man and his intimidating wife, and perched your hand on your hip as you held your pot, “How are you two doing over here? Everything alr-“

“Coffee.” The wife snapped and tapped her cup.

Your smile didn’t falter. “Sure thing.” You poured it a little too full and half considered making it overflow just to see her shriek, then turned to the man staring up at you with eyes that rivalled a puppy. “And how are you doing sir? Was I right about the cream?” You asked gently.

A smile fleeted over his face before he schooled it when his wife shot him a look and checked her wrist watch. “It’s very good thank you, sweetheart. Can’t say I can blame you for trying it.”

You laughed and poured him a little more coffee, “Well I’m glad you’re both enjoying.” You chirped, and ducked your head slightly to hide your pink cheeks.

“The bill please.” The woman said, checking her watch again.

Your eye twitched and a string of nasty words sat in your mouth.

Hope you’re going to court to get divorced.

“I’ll be right back.” You opted for.

Again, you hoped that when you turned around, Albert would have vacated his spot. However, that luck you had felt before evidently was washing away when you saw he was watching you quite unabashedly. His legs were spread comfortably and he braced an elbow on the counter. It was like he wanted you to know that he as trying to make you uncomfortable. If it weren’t for the fact that you were at work and that you heart was beating a mile a minute, you would have loved to give his attitude right back to him.

He needed to touch some grass and listen to a bird chirp.

The devil inside you made you look between his thighs -as if you could avoid it with him sitting so promiscuously- and you couldn’t help but note that there was a noticeable protrusion down the side of one of his thighs. Perhaps it was just a bunch in the seam, but you let you mind wander to less than innocent places for just a moment before you snapped back to reality and passed him by to get the bill the couple asked for.

Seriously, y/n?

“Blue suits you.” He said passively. Seemed he didn’t notice your slip-up.

You nearly laughed nervously as you wrote; you wondered if he meant the uniform dress or that you’d look nice all blue after he strangled you-

Calm down.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Shaw.” You smiled again, looking up at him quickly. It was hard to ignore the fact that he was watching you so intently.

He didn’t smile. Or nod. Or wink. He just sat there.

At his insistent silence, you sucked in a breath and began to walk back to the table waiting for you. You had just made it a few paces past the older man when your pen dropped right out of your hand and landed on the tile. With a mental string of curses singing loudly in your brain, you sighed out the air in your lungs, and bent over to retrieve it. The simple fact that your dress was short and you were bent at the waist went against your own common sense to kneel down is read, but you were getting frustrated and you were not thinking completely straight. Just as you stood back up quickly, you suddenly heard a squeak of one of the stools at the bar. Once you righted yourself, you turned back a little and noticed that Albert had turned back to reading his previously discarded paper far more intently than before.

What a strange man.

You tried to ease your nerves by focusing on the couple before you, and remind yourself that you might just be overreacting.

“There you are. No rush, I can get you two a piece of pie to-“ You started as you laid the slip of paper on the table.

“No, thank you.” The woman said a little less aggressively now that she was fed.

You nodded, and smiled, “Well then it was a pleasure folks. Hope to see you soon.” The last part was spoken mostly to the man- Richard, you corrected yourself. You heard him reply with a very soft “Thank you.” And you gave them one last nod of thanks before leaving the table one last time.

When you went to go back to your station by the pie and coffee, you were greeted with an empty stool and a finished coffee cup on the bar. You looked around quickly to see if Albert was still lingering somewhere out of your immediate sight, but there was nothing. You only spotted him when you turned to the window and caught his back as he disappeared out across the street and into the crowd. A sigh of relief washed your mouth of that horrible taste of discomfort.

You shivered again. You didn’t like him showing up like that, especially since you had only seen him a handful of other times, namely around your home and neighbourhood. Neither of which were odd anymore since you had started spending more time with them. But this one was.

This time was different.

Usually when you saw the Shaws, it was Max talking your ear off, and Al standing there arms crossed like an impatient father with a toddler. As nervous as the older man made you, you couldn’t help but giggle at how accurate the image was.

But seeing Al just show up at your work without Max or you even telling him where you worked made your stomach churn.

Had you told them accidentally?

Was it a coincidence like he said?

Had he followed you?

Were you being paranoid?

It wasn’t like he hadn’t grown up there…Al had probably been to that diner alone many times in his life. And it wasn’t as if it was illegal to eat there or try a new place to eat. For all you knew he might have been driving by and seen you and thought he would try and spook you a little.

No harm in that.

God, get yourself together…

Your mind ran far too fast as you absentmindedly began wiping down tables and clearing them away. Then, just as you were about to crumble up one of the napkins from that couple’s table, you noticed something slipped inside. You paused and placed your tray down to get a better look, and as you opened the white paper, your heart stuttered.

Inside was a $50 bill, and a business card.

Richard Orson.

History teacher.

Your brows found your hairline and you stood there for a long moment in shock. Never in a million years did you ever think you would receive such generosity; the poor man must have felt terrible for the way you had been treated by his partner…and the lack of tip with the cheque. A genuine smile crept over your face, though you bit your lip to keep your face from betraying too much excitement; you knew how your regulars liked to stare and gossip.

All thoughts and worries of the potentially homicidal magician faded as you pocketed the tip, and card. In fact your thoughts faded so much that you didn’t even register that the tip left by the said magician under his coffee cup was in fact equal to that of Mr. Orson’s. You didn’t even notice it until you were gathering up all of your tips from the day, and saw double.

Two $50 bills given to you in one day, what were the odds?

Perhaps the same odds of a certain Mr. Shaw watching that nervous history teacher slip that bill and card into his napkin when neither you nor his wife was looking. The same odds that a bitter, unfavourable heat burst under Albert’s fingertips at the sight.

The very same odds, that Albert Shaw was in fact, just a little jealous.

But jealous of what, however, was what bothered him the most. He didn’t know what he was jealous of. Albert had decided that he would try to pick you apart- this strange girl who was so damn comfortable everywhere. The girl who had settled so easily into his quiet life; the girl who got along with the nosy biddies on their block.

The girl who scared the shit out of him.

Yes, you scared him. You scared him because no one had ever looked at him like you did. Like you could see past skin and muscle and see inside him. His mind and his memory. Like you could see what he had done, and knew what he was capable of.

He had seen the recognition and terror in your eyes…and something else he couldnt quite place. He hated how little he knew about you. Hell, he’d beaten all the information on you he could out of Max’s empty head. All he knew was what you had told his brother, and a few little things here and there that you had said…but Al wondered how much of those things were even true.

You had no reason to tell them the truth…based on how odd you were, he was fairly certain that you making up a story to tell them wouldn’t be beyond your imagination.

And indeed it was not beyond your imagination to concoct a false backstory, but recently you found it easier now to just tell the truth. Most of it. Parts of it…

You pondered your strange day, and and turned the steering wheel of your blue Ford pinto at a leisurely pace. The rear lights of the car in front of you glowed red, and you followed suit to stop.

Go.

Stop.

Go.

Stop.

It was at the fourth intersection that you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. This had become a regular feeling for you, whether you liked it or not. Just like always, you checked around you, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Yet another reason why you thought you must be getting a little too paranoid.

You tried to chalk it up to being tired and still a little on edge from your visit from Albert, but the further you went and the closer to your home you got, the more uneasy you felt. Your eyes wandered briefly to your rear view, but with the night so dark and the lights so bright, you couldn’t tell if the vehicle behind you was new or had been behind you all along. Your gut churned, and you felt bile rise into your throat at the very thought of someone following you. But your rational brain tried to chime in; tell you that you drove a very popular route, and that even if the person behind you was the same since you left downtown, it was most likely just a coincidence.

But you didn’t like coincidence or most likely. You wanted yes or no. Fight or flight.

Sweat began to well on your skin as you fought with yourself internally, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you were scared. You veered off your way, and began down a side street. At first, you breathed a sigh of relief when there was no light behind you…but then after a few seconds, the car that had been behind you turned as well.

Your stomach fully dropped.

You shoved your foot down on the accelerator and turned haphazardly onto the next road and peeled down it to take a left, then a right then another right, then straight.

But every time, even if it took a second or two, those god damn headlights came back. It was no small car too, you could tell. A truck or a-

You swallowed.

A van.

You didn’t even care if you got a ticket or lost your way, you hit the gas as hard as you could and your little car screamed at you as you did. It took off down the road, and received a few middle fingers and honked horns, but you didn’t care. You drove through neighbourhoods until you found a house that looked to be tucked to bed, and you pulled into the drive way and shut off your engine and hid. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You heard a dog bark, and laughter one from the houses; a porch light switch on, and the rhythmic sound of a bicycle wizzing past, but nothing else. Fear gripped you so tight that you were certain your breath would never come back; you feared that if you looked up from your spot shoved down against the seat, the person you were running from would be right there.

A boogeyman.

Or worse, maybe that vehicle would be waiting down the street- illuminating the road with its bright headlights as if to taunt you and tell you to run. That it’s fun. Because it’s all a game.

Your hands shook, but you knew you couldn’t stay there all night. So against your better-or perhaps just terrified- judgement, you slowly crept up to look over the edge of the window; eyes wide.

Only to see an empty dark street.

There was nothing. Not even a strange car parked on the side of the road.

You swallowed and checked every window and side of your car to see if you had missed anything, but again, there was nothing. A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat as your strung-out nerves began to settle, and you placed your hand on your forehead. Had you imagined it? Did that even happen? Were you just so spooked by your day that you had let your tired mind run away and get lost in your deepest fears?

The air in your lungs gradually returned, and you started to feel your heart slow to a steady, healthy beat. A half hour passed before you finally turned the key to start your car- the sound alone was loud enough to make you jump. You drove slowly, and cautiously; you didn’t care that you got home well past 6pm, or that your stomach was howling at you. All you found yourself caring about was that there were no headlights behind you for more than a few blocks at a time.

Your home called to you as you pulled in, and you nearly cried with relief. But in the back of your mind, there was an itch. An itch that demanded to be scratched. An itch that reminded you that whoever’s car you had seen or thought you had seen behind you had been a large car of sorts.

You very slowly got out of your car, and jerkily looked down one direction of the road, looked then looked down the other…but still saw nothing. Then, you reluctantly moved your gaze across the street to 7742 Irving Dr. That black van you saw everyday was parked, and the house was still. The entire street was fairly still, in fact.

You knew you should just leave it be and go into your home and sleep it off, but you couldn’t help yourself. Sleep would evade you if you didn’t check, and you would be haunted by your cowardliness.

So you forced your stiff limbs to move, and slowly wandered across the street. You rubbed your clammy hands against your skirt as you approached the large van, and walked to the hood; with each step you took, you checked that there was no one watching you or someone creeping up on you. Then as you stood there, with nothing holding you back, you stared at it for a long moment, debating once again just going home, but you couldnt. Your palm hovered over the metal for a long minute, but then you bit your cheek and placed it down on the hood.

The sensation your hand was met with made you breathe out an incredulous laugh. You very slowly removed your hand, and walked back to your home at a leisurely pace; relaxed right up until your front door was closed. That night you locked your doors and windows like you always did, but instead of simply letting sleep take you, you found a few sleeping pills you had kicking around, and swallowed them with a sip of water. Your nerves were shot from the day you had had, and letting your paranoid mind take over had been the final straw.

As you laid there staring up at your ceiling, your hand was still fuzzy from touching the hood of that van, and still just as warm. You were certain you would never forget the shiver that made every vertebrae in your back freeze when you felt the metal; it had been so warm…as if it had just been shut off just moments before you pulled into your driveway.

A few days passed without incident.

The morning following that night was evidently the most difficult to get through. You had half expected to wake up in a warehouse, strung up like a pig to bleed out, or tied up in the forest; something so horrible that the fear from the experience might be enough to kill you…but nothing like that happened at all.

On the contrary, things seemed to go oddly smoothly.

You coffee tasted extra rich, the milk you were certain had spoiled was good for another week, and your aging car had started on the first try. Even when you finally laid eyes on the elder Shaw brother for the first time since that fateful afternoon, he had given you a simple wave as he carried his paper bags of groceries inside without even a hint of mischief or ulterior motives.

You had stood there, mail in hand, for an extra five minutes to see if he would come to his front window and peer out at you; march up to you and stab you or drag you by the hair into his house. The sick part of you hoped he would, actually; if he did, then you could confirm your worst fears and either die knowing you had been right, or try and escape.

Yet every time you thought you would be able to catch Albert Shaw and prove to yourself that he was the psychotic man you thought he was…he would prove you wrong.

It drove you nuts.

You felt that you couldn’t even believe your own mind, let alone your eyes or ears or common sense. Everything felt upside down and flipped front to back no matter how you tried to look at it.

Indeed, the hood of Albert’s black van had been warm -that you did not deny- and certainly, there was something in him that made you go on very high alert. But there was a nagging in the back of your mind that said “Take a deep breath and calm down.”

If you were honest with yourself, you felt a part of you begin to experience a deep seeded guilt. Had you been wrong? Were you overreacting to everything? Had you really seen that deadness in Albert Shaw’s eyes, or were you just startled by his handsome face and were looking for something so terribly wrong with him; the poor man was probably just dead tired and had no life left in him from looking after his hyperactive, adult brother.

The guilt settled into you almost immediately after you had woken up after your horrible night, and you let yourself feel that guilt; the more you did, the more you realized how nice of a man Al was -albeit very rough around the edges. Perhaps nice wasn’t the best word for him…perhaps altruistic would suit him better. While he did not show a great deal of outward care and kindness, he did show a certain level of helpfulness and openness with those around him. He said hello to his neighbours, and you noted how Harriet called him Bert; you also noticed him cringe at it which made you cough up a laugh. He held doors open and helped old ladies with their groceries; threw kids balls back when they landed on his yard and would make sure Max had his car keys when he left the house.

Three days after you had let the guilt envelop you, just when you were about to head to work for a morning shift, your car wouldn’t start. As fate would have it, the one person you were so uncertain about had been taking the trash out in a large black bag, and had just so happened to look up and see you.

You had been so focused on trying to get the Ford to start that you had jumped and subsequently honked your horn by accident when you glanced out your window and saw him leaning down to it; you didn’t know if you had been so engrossed with the car that you hadn’t heard him, or if he had just been that quiet. The satisfied smirk he had poorly hidden made you want to replace his eggs with rotten ones, but to his credit, he had fixed the issue within 10 minutes. While you had told him you didn’t need any help -determined to figure it out yourself- it had felt…nice to receive a hand from him.

Albert also had the decency to not mentioned how red your face was after embarrassing yourself so badly at 6 am.

In keeping with honesty, however, you had to have a very real conversation with yourself about the great unease you had begun to experience nearly every day. It felt so cliche to admit that you felt as if you were being watched, but it was the truth, and you hadn’t the faintest idea why you felt it. Everywhere you went it was as if someone was breathing down your neck, specifically when you were out alone. Walking, driving, sitting in that coffee house talking to regulars you saw- even grocery shopping.

It didn’t seem to matter how many times you were able to rationalize what you were experiencing, it always came back to the fact that something felt off. It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself that it was just that baby in the shopping cart staring or even an elderly man with a loose gaze. A festering unease began to grow in your stomach, and you started to wonder if perhaps you had been a touch too friendly with someone in town, and they now thought it was within their rights to pursue you. You knew there was a fair share of deranged people in the world, and wouldn’t put it past any of them to take it upon themselves to follow you after giving into their delusions, or worse…

No.

No you couldn’t think like that.

Saturday was your day to treat yourself without errands or obligations. It had been a few weeks now that your time to explore the city had been cut short by Max, and now with what you hoped would be a free day, you wished to do just that; see Denver properly, minus any ice or snow. With summer right around the corner, you took the little joy you felt for the warmer weather and wore a sun dress to brighten your mood. Then, you found yourself in that coffee house you so enjoyed, sipping away at a caffeinated beverage that the waitress had suggested.

Your peace, however, ended quickly as a crowd began to form inside, and your personal space was intruded upon repeatedly. Claustrophobia began to get the better of you, and you found yourself finishing your drink quickly; making quick work of weaving between tables and bodies until you were outside and taking a deep breath. You squared your shoulders, and set off down the street to a main road, and let yourself get lost amongst shops and barbers and mechanics and grocers. Streets and avenues led you deeper and deeper until you-

Crashed right into someone.

Your gaze had been locked on a particularly beautiful view of the mountains and had completely missed a very tall person walking opposite you, and evidently they had missed you too.

“Oh- I am so sorry, I can’t believe I-“

“No, no please that was my fault. Are you alright-“

You talked over one another as you righted each other, and ensured neither of you were hurt, only for you both to finally look up and pause and laugh.

“Hello stranger.” You smiled up at those brown eyes you had seen so recently.

Sure enough, this was no stranger, not really. He had given you his card and a $50 tip after all.

“Oh! H-hi. Gosh…um, I- I’m sorry I didn’t uh…get your name.” Mr. Richard Orson managed to get out. You hadn’t realized just how tall he was when you had served him and his wife, but now as he stood before you, he dwarfed you completely. Not that he was large- he was quite lanky really, but very tall. Easily a foot or more on you.

You smiled and laughed, “I told you- good whipped cream will make the world melt away. Y/n. My name’s y/n.” You held your hand out to him, and noted that his long fingers wrapped around your hand comically. His hands were a little clammy, but warm.

“Richard.” He smiled a little nervously, though he seemed happy to see you, not displeased.

“I know…thank you by the way.” You said sincerely, “You bought my groceries for this week and next!”

His ears went red and he ducked his head, “I apologize for that, I didn’t want to just leave the money so I left my card too, and then I felt a bit ridiculous because I think people only do that in the movies… I…I just felt so awful for how my wife was treating you. We were just in a rush and I burned the toast that morning, and she was- well…it doesn’t matter.” He sighed and looked around, a little exasperated.

He wasn’t in a suit, and you found yourself enjoying how relaxed he looked- he seemed to be the kind of man to need relaxation. You hoped he was taking the day to do just that…though with how tight his shoulders looked, you had a hard time believing that.

“You’re a nice man, Mr. Orson. I’d be happy to see you there again.” You smiled, and touched his arm to remind him that not everyone was going to snap at him. It seemed like he existed on eggshells.

You watched him move his gaze from your face down to stare at your hand, then looked back up at you again, “You’re a very nice girl, y/n.” He grinned slowly, “I…-“ he started then shook his head.

“No- what is it?” You asked, suddenly concerned you had overstepped, and removed your hand.

His ears began to go pink again.

You hadn’t expected him to ask something like that…but you couldn’t say no, not when he looked like a kicked puppy.

“You know…I did just have a coffee.” You started, and his shoulders seemed to shag a little, “But I would love another one…can’t say the one I had was very enjoyable.” You laughed lightly.

His brows rose up and he grinned, realizing you had been teasing him, “You’re sure? I’m- I’m not interrupting your day?”

You shook your head, “Not at all, I was actually going to explore the city a bit…I just moved here in January.”

“January? God you must have been freezing.” He said, finally loosening up, “Well I- if you need a guide I was born and raised here.” He rubbed the back if his neck.

“I’ve seen worse.” You laughed and shrugged, “I would actually love a guide…can you promise to avoid all Baseball stadiums and anything including a hike?” You pleaded.

At that, he laughed. Properly.

“I think I can do that.” He grinned, and gestured for you to continue on your way, side by side.

It had been a wonderful day, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so at ease around someone; there was, however, that feeling in the back of your mind that simply would not leave. Like eyes watching you at every moment, or a hand hovering over your back about to snatch you. Your eyes would quickly darted around your surroundings in an attempt to pin-point the perpetrator, but to no avail; each time, in fact, that gentle voice of the older man in your company would bring you back with his concern. Asking if you were alright, or if the food wasn’t good, or if you were bored of a certain site he took you to.

Such a nice man.

You truly wondered how his wife would treat him so poorly; it seemed that at every turn he was trying to ensure that everything was right, nothing out of place. It was strange to have someone care so much for your well-being even though you were practically strangers, and you knew you shouldn’t be so enamoured with a man wearing a gold ring on his finger, but that hollow part inside you was head-strong and stubborn, and you could only fight it for so long.

That night, when he walked you to your car, that was still parked in the city by the coffee house, you kissed his cheek, and the blush that covered his face made it worth it.

“G-goodnight y/n.” He had stuttered out and waved as you darted away to your vehicle before you said something stupid. You had your head in the clouds like a teenager walking home from the school dance; it was ridiculous and unrealistic and perhaps invasive into their marriage…but a girl would dream. If you were playing the devils advocate with yourself- he even admitted himself that there was no love left there…hadn’t been for a long time.

So really, no harm done, right?

On Sunday, you ran your usual errands. Groceries, cosmetics, and anything in between. Really, you were aimless. While you did indeed have a list to do, you found yourself wandering through shops once again with no end in sight, and just like every other time, you began to feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, one by one. In the back of your mind. You briefly wondered if you had some kind of condition that made you so sensitive to being in public, but no matter how much you tried to blame yourself, you always came back to the same conclusion. Your paranoia had been growing. So much so that even Albert had made a jab at you about it.

Of course he knew exactly why you had that feeling. In fact he was surprised that you hadn’t noticed him acting as your shadow for weeks now- you seemed so perceptive, but perhaps he was wrong. However, he had noticed that you had the tendency to convince yourself of conclusions in order to…cope. He knew you were well aware of his little brother’s cocaine habit, but always asked if he was sick when he would sniffle or sneeze uncontrollably. Or how you were positive that the family down the road was having marital issues, despite having seen only a little tiff between husband and wife.

Very much in your own mind. Perhaps a little lost, if Albert was honest with himself.

Albert could see you from his spot, parked down a small street that was practically an alley, or could have been a service way. He made a note that now as the weather was warming you tended to avoid the heat peaks and often wore the sweetest little sundresses that made watching you all the more worth it. He had an entire filing cabinet in his mind with your little name on it- hobbies, habits, likes and dislikes, speech patterns, body language…

He could see you standing there having just stepped onto the sidewalk, a shopping bag over your shoulder. There was a breeze that toyed your hair, and lifted your dress ever so slightly. Then, Albert watched you go completely still. With such a sudden change in your demeanour, Al had half expected you to turn around and look right at him; as if you could sense he was there. You did that often, but never spotted him. Even when he had followed you and that man from the diner, you never saw him.

Albert’s thoughts were cut off when he realized he had zoned out and gotten lost in thought. When he refocused his eyes, he froze- you were gone. Albert kicked himself for letting himself slip like that-

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Shaw!”

Now Al was not usually one to jump, but when your face was suddenly right outside his open window, he did just that. Nearly shook the entire van.

Your brows pinched in concern when you saw how startled he was, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you!” You said, putting your hands on the window ledge.

Albert let out a bothered sigh, as if you were one following him. Making him uncomfortable.

“What the hell are you doing out here, hm?” He rasped, crossing his arms over his thick chest and looked out at the streets.

He didn’t like how your eyes followed his every movement- at least he had the decency to do it when you didn’t know he was there.

“Oh you know- this and that.” You shrugged, “I was about to get something to eat if you want to come. Always happy to have the company.”

Al looked down at you like you were a cheeky child and shook his head, “Don’t be out late again.” Your eyes went wide at the statement. And with that, he went to put the key in the ignition, but then that spike of fear you often felt crept up your spine.

You didn’t know why you did it, but the words were out before you could stop them. “Would you mind giving me a lift?”

This stopped him. Albert blinked, but didn’t look at you, “I’m not your dad, Kid.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and smiled, “Haven’t you heard of being neighbourly? You don’t have to be my daddy to give me a ride.”

Albert’s eye twitched.

Cheeky brat.

But when you didn’t move, Albert sighed and started the van, “Get in.” He rasped.

You smiled and ran to the other side, and hoped inside. “Thanks a lot! Thought I was going to get stuck in the heat later.” You didn’t want to tell him about the fact that your nerves were unsettled again, lest he crack another joke or ‘old man’ statement about it.

Albert didn’t say anything as he pulled out, and started down the road towards home. As you drove, you remembered the cold treat you had sitting in the bag you had tossed just behind your seat and found your mouth watering at the the thought of it. You quickly unbuckled your seatbelt, turned, and started rifling through the bag- smiling when you found the box.

“Sit back down.” Al grumbled behind you. He wasn’t about to have you fly through the windshield if he slammed on the breaks.

Not that you saw how his knuckles had turned white on the steering wheel or how he had rolled down his window even more to let in fresh air and distract from the intoxicating smell you had. Now as you were bent over, your dress had ridden up, and he had made the mistake to look over. Just like he had at the diner. And just like at the diner, you only had on simple black cotton panties under that goddamn summer dress. Albert looked out the window and forced his thoughts away through gitted teeth and heavy breaths.

“Hold on old man.” You teased him, finally coming back to sit with an orange popsicle in hand. “Let a girl cool off, would ya?”

Al looked back at you and nearly slammed on the breaks to tell you to get out. “Don’t you go making a mess with that, its already dripping down your damn arm.” He rasped and nodded to the mess you were already making.

You blushed and smiled. “Come on give me a little credit- I won’t let a single drop go to waste!” You licked the sweet trail down your arm, to your palm, and smiled sweetly, “See? No mess.”

But Albert could barely look at you. Seeing a young thing like you with her dress riding up her soft thighs, and happily sucking on a popsicle as it dripped down your arm made him nearly snap the wheel in two. He could feel his pants grow tighter and tighter, and he felt a wave of rage move through him; like he was being reduced to a hormonal teenage boy by some strange girl in a dress. His jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly.

Beside him, you had started babbling on about something Albert could only go “mhmm” to every so often lest he snap and drag you-

No.

No you weren’t right.

He shook his head and took a deep breath of the fresh afternoon air.

“- Mr. Shaw?”

Finally, Al snapped back into his body. “What?”

You blinked, sucking on the wooden stick, “I was just asking you about work…noticed you’ve been having more free time.”

He could have throttled you right there. Smart brat.

“Yeah, and why does it matter?” He rasped, turning onto Irving street.

“N-nothing- uh it doesn’t. I just…was curious. Maybe you can work on those nice wood carvings you told me about!” You chirped. Indeed he had told you offhandedly about a hobby of his that included wood work.

Albert pulled into his driveway, and sighed, “Need me to carry you to your house too?” As he opened his door and stepped out without waiting for an answer.

A warmth came to your cheeks, but you shook your head and hopped down to the pavement unbothered; your bag in hand and stick in your mouth- though it had lost its flavour.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Shaw!” You called to him as he disappeared towards the door; you could hear Samson barking for him already.

“Don’t make it a habit.” He called back. You couldn’t see it, but the older man was about to rip the door off its hinges to get inside and deal with the aching cock between his legs.

You lingered for a moment, and your smile faded when he entered his home without a second glance. But Albert wouldn’t be around you longer than he needed to. Couldn’t.

It wasn’t even that you had seen him, that startled him so much. It was how quietly and quickly you had snuck up on him. He hadn’t heard or seen you at all before you were right on top of him. Was he getting old? Had you been calling his name the whole time, and he just hadn’t heard you? Or had you spotted him and slipped under his nose to scare him?

He didn’t know, but he sure wasn’t about to find out.

Your evening had been a quiet one. You had settled into bed early, and even started on a new book that had been staring at you for a month. Which was why you were so startled at around 10 pm when a loud argument outside in the street broke out. You nearly leapt up when the sound roused you from your lull, and you drew the side of one of your curtains back in your living-room.

At first all you heard was yelling, mostly one voice but a little of another; then you looked outside and listened carefully, and found that these voices were ones you knew fairly well.

Your eyes widened when you saw both Max and Albert Shaw come out from their backyard. Max’s voice raised especially. You couldn’t even pay attention to the words he was saying before you noticed lights from other houses turning on in response to the row. Before you could think, you were out the door in your nightie, slippers and a robe. You were just past your gate when Max, who was now pointing his finger in Al’s face, punched his brother clean in the jaw.

You froze, and watched as Max made a beeline for his car and peeled out down the road. In his anger, he didn’t even see you.

Albert did though. He walked to where you stood, and cast a weary eye around the neighbourhood as a few heads poked out from their doors.

“The hell are you doing?” He rasped out, and took your arm, pulling you from the middle of the road and to his gate. You didn’t even see the car driving down the road that he took you out of the way from.

“I-I heard your fight and wanted to see if you were alri-“ you looked at his face in the light from his house and saw the mottled pink and red on his cheekbone from his brother’s punch.

He seemed to understand what you were staring at, and he took a breath to calm himself, if only for a moment.

“Sorry folks…just a brotherly quarrel. Have a good night.” He called to the last of the old biddies who wouldn’t go inside; you wondered if this happened often. You gathered it must have, what with the two of then being so drastically different.

He looked back at you, but said nothing. Albert simply turned around and walked back inside his house, calm as ever.

You were torn between just leaving it be, and keeping your nose out of their business, but these two men were a part of your life now…and you weren’t about to pretend a violent fight didn’t just happen. So you took a deep breath and followed after the older man.

Inside, you saw that there was indeed evidence of a fight. The board Max used to organize his thoughts and theories was hanging by a corner, there was a dent in one of the walls, and a mess of cocaine on the coffee table.

Ah.

“You can’t just leave things alone can you?”

You jumped and spun to face Al who was icing his knuckles…which you now saw were bruised and bleeding.

“Not like you really left me a choice…” you said, already walking over to him. “Sit.” You pointed to one of the dining chairs.

Albert stared down at you, and relented after a moment, sighing as he settled into the seat. You brought a chair in front of his, and took the ice from him before positioning it better over the open and purpling skin.

“What happened?” You asked.

“The wall bit me.” He said dryly.

You fixed Albert with a look. “Like how Max’s fist bit your cheek?”

You swore then, that you saw the tiniest of smiles on his face for just a second.

He was silent for about three minutes, and you didn’t say a word either. If you wanted to know what had happened, you needed to let him tell you.

So you waited.

“He doesn’t know when to stop.”

You looked up at Al, and saw him looking at Samson.

“Stop with…?” You prompted.

“Everything. His brain…the drugs, the people, the whores…he just…he’s an idiot.” He sighed.

“He’s your idiot though.” You breathed out a laugh.

Albert nodded and you saw that little smile again. “He is.”

You could tell he was softening towards you, and if you were honest you felt your heart beat a little faster.

“Well, I think I’ve done all I can here…I have a pretty extensive first aid kit at home if you’d like to come over?” You posed your question, and found it difficult to meet his eyes.

“Oh do you? Clean up lots of accidents?” He asked. You could feel his eyes on you and his gaze burned. There was something behind his eyes right then that made the air in your lungs feel heavy. It was as if he was asking one thing but was demanding to know something else, and you didn’t like just how sure he seemed of himself. Like he knew something you didn’t.

“I- safety first you know? I tend to be a bit clumsy.” You blushed and bit the inside of your cheek, as you fumbled a little.

“I noticed.” He rasped, leaning towards you slightly onto his knees. His voice dropped then. “I don’t think I’m quite right for you though, am I?”

Your brows knit together and you felt the hair on the back of your neck rise, “No-not right? What do you mean, Mr. Shaw?” You tried to meet the older man’s gaze, but you couldn’t. Your eyes flitted around his face instead.

This time he smiled. Actually smiled. And your stomach plummeted.

“I’m not married…got no kids. Pretty sure I’m a little older than what you’re used to as well.” He tilted his head to the side.

You flushed. Did he think you were trying to seduce him?

“M-mr. Shaw please I’m just trying to help-“

“You’re good. Smart…cute even. But I’d rather not be another body in your trunk, thanks.” His breath fanned across your face as he spoke.

The blood from your face drained, and you began to draw away from him as fear clutched at you, but he caught your arm in a tight hold before you could run from him.

“Ah ah, you’re not going anywhere.” He tsked you. “What do you use, hm? I hear ladies are partial to poison…but you…no. You don’t seem like the poison type.”

“Mr. Shaw you’re scaring me.” You whispered, trying to pull away as hysteria set in.

“What about…a bat? Or a hammer? An axe?” He pushed. “Come on, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He was completely in your space now. Your breathing came in short, fast gasps- your anxiety raging as all of your fears came true right before your eyes and you couldn’t even run. Your hand gripped your thigh like a lifeline-

Then it all stopped. You breathed.

“A knife.”

He paused. Your voice dropped, and you went eerily still, just as he had seen you do in the parking lot that same day.

All frightful doe gone.

You smiled.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@dogmatic255 @wayward-persephone @ethanhoewke @honeycovered-bandaids @dancingisdangerouss @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @theroadreader @lxdyred @eth1calcannibal @al-shaw @ebiemidnightlibrarian @katehawke @blep-bloop @astroo-babe @Ixdyred @ethanhawkestan @ratpackash @doc-blu @al-shaw @possessedjoker @destiel394 @darkvoidz @belladonnaaura @ang311te @pecter-specter

#ethan hawke #the grabber #albert shaw #the grabber x reader #the black phone #Albert Shaw x reader #slasher x reader #slasher

[spark-my-nature]

Baby You Can Drive My Car - DRW

Hi friends! The boy's posting that picture earlier of them at the racetrack, ironically, nearly caused me to drive into a pole. This is entirely unedited and typed in a rush, but I absolutely could not stop myself, because... good god, Danny could run me over and I'd thank him.

Anybody notice the zipper sticking out of Danny's suit at the bottom? Implying it can unzip from there? I'm so normal about that little fun fact.

Words: 3.4K

Summary: Danny looks ridiculously good in the racing suit, and you show him just how good.

Warnings: Language, oral sex (m receiving), semi-public, Danny being unfairly gorgeous, that's about it

Cars were never of much interest to you. You could appreciate a cute old fashioned Volkswagen, and you loved car rides with your boyfriend, but that had more to do with his hand on your thigh as the wind tussled your hair, and the abandoned dirt roads outside Nashville that you went for some fun in his backseat. But the moment any of the men in your life started rambling about models and motors, you were tuned out faster than a radio playing pop music at Sam’s house. You weren’t necessarily ignorant to the subject, not when you’d grown up surrounded with auto enthusiasts like your granddad and father, but cars just never sparked your interest.

Daniel Wagner, however, singlehandedly may very well change your mind.

The boys’ time in Bahrain was just as magical as you’d hoped and expected it to be. Such amazing people showing the very love and community that made you so proud of the guys for inspiring. And Danny made every moment offstage with you just as incredibly magical, as he always managed to do. Even something you found as dull as racecar driving. 

One of the things you loved about Danny was that he was the perfect balance of masculine and boyish, without being too much of a douchey bro-type guy. You knew he liked cars, and he spoke about his interest in a way that made your heart rush with affection. And who were you to complain that your sweet boy wanted to take you driving in his porsche? Especially when he looked so ridiculously delicious leaning his toned arm against the sleek black door of the car, eyeing you up so hungrily. Cars didn’t interest you, but Danny driving them certainly did. 

You hummed to yourself as you came back down the steps between the bleachers of the racetrack after a trip to the bathroom. You’d left your sweet drummer in the management office area when you’d escaped for a bathroom break, drawing out a sweet goodbye kiss as long as was socially acceptable. His eyes crinkled with playful affection, and he murmured softly to you, “Hurry back, babe,” as he gave your ass a playful swat. You’d giggled and spun around, leaving him to sign waivers and listen to details about racing that, frankly, bored you to tears. 

But as you returned now, you nearly dropped your phone as your eyes looked up, landing on your boyfriend. The four guys posed against the railing that separated the seats from the track, Josh hopped up of course, and Jake posing suavely as he leaned back beside him. You giggled slightly at Sam, the only one sporting a pink version of the suits they sported. 

Your eyes kept coming back to Danny though, like a magnet. His large, callused hand easily gripping the globe of the helmet, the other hanging as he leaned an elbow on the rail beside his best friend. His heavenly mane of curls draped effortlessly down his shoulders, and his eyes dark and mysterious as he stood still, the boy’s photographer snapping away. You stood frozen for several minutes, drinking him in shamelessly. Hell, he was yours to ogle, you may as well. 

Finally, the camera returned to it’s travel bag and the guys broke into laughter and jokes once more. Danny’s bright smile returned, lightly backhanding Sam as he no doubt teased him for the colour of his suit. Sam’s eyes found you before Danny’s did, and you would have noticed the smirk on his face if your own weren’t glued to your boyfriend’s. He tapped Danny’s shoulder with his fist, nodding behind him toward you, and Danny turned to look over his shoulder, finally noticing you. 

Realizing you’d been caught drooling, you blushed and swallowed, all of a sudden noticing how flustered you were. Danny’s pleased smile could’ve brought you to your knees, and you nearly folded as he bit his lip, suggestively raising his brows at you, a silent “Yeah? You like this?”

You smiled bashfully, approaching him with your wrists held behind your back, a light skip in your step. You cleared your throat softly, looking up at him once he was in front of you, “Hi.”

He smirked wider, and his hands came to rest on your hips, his eyes raking up your body. “Hey,” he playfully returned. “Somebody got a staring problem?” 

You giggled shyly, resting your hands on the material covering his chest. “I’m not allowed to appreciate my boyfriend?” You batted your eyelashes up at him. 

He quickly glanced behind him, making sure nobody was still listening to your exchange, before turning back to face you with that naughty twinkle in his eye. 

“I think you’re appreciating a little more than usual,” he observed coyly, letting his hands slip slightly down over the curve of your ass, stepping closer to your body. 

You simply shrugged, letting out a flustered giggle. “You look good,” you said softly, rubbing his chest through the suit. 

He raised a brow at you, his eyes lifting nonchalantly to gaze around the room as he quietly said, “And you look like you wanna eat me alive.” 

As his eyes landed back down on yours, he looked far too smug for your comfort. You blushed, stepping closer, if only to hide your flushed cheeks. “Maybe I do,” you mumbled. 

He hummed deeply in his chest, squeezing your ass quickly, his reply rumbling near your ear, “Be a good girl, and I might let you.” 

Your breath hitched, and you could feel his lips twisting into an amused smirk, but he simply smacked your ass lightly, gave the apple of your cheek a playful bite and pulled away, winking at you before turning and following the rest of the guys towards the track. 

That fucker. 

*************

You took a seat right up against the barrier, ensuring a front row seat as they readied up. You snorted, watching Jake and Sam’s slapstick comedy-like interactions, bickering over helmets and such. As the guys approached their assigned cars, Sam put an end to the argument with a skillful wet willy in Jake’s ear, tearing off to take cover behind Danny. You snickered, quickly filming the interaction to laugh with Danny later in the hotel, but you ended up focusing the camera on your boyfriend long after Sam had moved on. The screen magnified the mouthwatering sight of Danny shaking out his curls, then pulling the helmet over his head. He tugged at the racing gloves, opening the door of the car and slipping in. 

You swalloed, shaking your head at yourself. Yeah, Danny was gorgeous, but why were you thirsting so hard over this?

You decided he might like some cool footage of himself whipping around the track, and so you started a new video as you watched the guys have their fun. 

After the best part of an hour, they’d pulled to a stop in front of the barricade, hopping out as the whooped and hollered excitedly. You giggled at their adrenaline buzz, always finding them all so cute when they were all excited like this. Four puppies, honestly. 

Then you caught Danny’s eye, as he sat in the drivers seat, having merely opened the door but not moving out. He was already watching you with a dangerous smirk crossing his face. Your heart fluttered, and you bit your lip as he nodded towards him, silently beckoning you down there. You took a breath and quickly hopped the barricade, descending the stairs and strolling towards him with an extra sway in your hips. 

If Danny thought you looked like you wanted to eat him alive, he should see the look on his own face. 

His eyes, dark and wild, lasered in on your body as you approached him, and as soon as you reached the car, he growled softly, “Get in and shut the door.” 

Your eyes widened and you checked around you, seeing the Kiszka’s backs as they retreated into the office area of the facility, the door closing behind them. Danny and yourself the only people left in the track, you looked back at Danny questioningly but sat in the seat beside him, pulling the door closed behind you. 

The second you turned to face him, he leaned over the console and his lips met yours in a rush. You whimpered quietly, your hand coming to cup his sharp jawline, instantly melting into his frenzied kisses. His lips were rough against yours, his hands reaching to grip and paw at your thighs and hips. His lips curled into a dark smirk against yours, and his tongue slipped between both pairs of parted lips to brush against yours. He moaned quietly through your open mouths, his hand sliding up under your shirt and scraping those rough fingers you adored along your belly and up your side. You shivered under his touch, breaking away from his searching mouth for a gasp of air, fluttering your eyes open. 

“Danny,” you panted, a teasing lilt to your tone, “What’s gotten into you?” You ran your thumb across his smooth cheek, feeling another rush of heat in your belly as he shamelessly undressed you with his dark eyes. 

He bit his lip, muffling a needy whimper, “Dunno,” he confessed, “Guess the adrenaline, and then I kept thinking about the way you were lookin’ at me before.” Your nose brushed against his as he teased his face close to yours, your brow furrowing with growing desire as he spoke. “Just wanna make a fucking mess of you… right here, in this car.”

You whined softly, your eyes darting all over his face. “God, baby,” you breathed, kissing him quickly, “I want that too, but… we can’t, the car… the guys,” you looked over your shoulder, double checking you were still alone. He grabbed your jaw, forcing your gaze back on him. 

His voice deeper and breathier, he looked directly into your eyes. “Windows are tinted, and they’re getting a drink in the casino.” He licked his lips, brushing them against yours as though he couldn’t get close enough to you. You felt his hips shift in the driver’s seat, his thighs brushing and squeezing his growing erection. “Need you so bad, please babe,” he breathed. 

You tugged his lips to yours by his hair, your hand at the back of his head. He kissed you frantically and you moaned against his lips, barely breaking away as you nodded quickly, whimpering, “M’kay.”

He let out a sigh of relief, quickly running his hand up your shirt and cupping your breast through your unlined bralette. His thumb rolled over your nipple as you kissed, moving his lips down your jawline at your quiet whine. Your free hand that wasn’t tangled in his silky curls ran down his chest slowly, your nails making the meshy material of the racing suit whine as they dragged downwards. It came to rest over the hard bulge in his crotch, earning a growl from deep in his chest. You squeezed it needily, moaning rather pathetically as Danny pinched your nipple and sucked at your neck in teasing retaliation. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his dark eyes finding your as he pulled away from your neck. 

Wordlessly, he held eyecontact as he guided your hand on his crotch slightly over, where he smirked as you found the zipper with a shaky breath. 

Your eyes dipped downwards then back up to his. “It… it zips from there too?” you whispered. He nodded, simply smirking so smugly at you. You bit your lip, your brows knitting together as you breathed, “…fuck…”

You wasted no time, quickly pulling that zipper upwards, abandoning it at his abs in favor of slipping your hand inside. His sweats blocked your access though, and he snickered at your frustrated huff, lifting his hips for you as you wiggled them down slightly. “So many fucking layers,” you grumbled, then finally, pulling his cock out over the waistband and spreading open the hole you’d made with the zipper. He shuddered slightly as your hand wrapped around his base, so achingly hard and hot. You ran your fist up and down his length slowly, your lips parted in a shaky breath. 

“Fuck sweetheart,” he sighed, shifting and slumping down in his seat a little. His hand reached down and pulled the small adjustment lever, moving the seat back a few inches for more room. You let out a breathy giggle, looking up at him. “What? You want something?” you nodded to the extra space between him and the steering wheel. 

He smirked, giving you a playful eyeroll. “You want it just as bad as I do,” he smugly teased.

You blinked innocently, squeezing him tighter before swiping your thumb over his little slit at the tip. “Want what?”

His eyes watched your hand’s movements for a moment, biting his lip hard as you teased at his tip. Then he looked up at your face through his lashes, “To suck my cock.”

You closed your eyes before he could see them roll back. 

Focusing back on his lustful face, you licked your lips. “Wanted to get on my knees for you the second I saw you earlier,” you confessed. 

He groaned, leaning back into the seat further, as though in invitation. “Fuck babe,” he rasped, “go ahead, then. Make me feel good, make me cum in that sweet mouth.” 

You whimpered softly, brushing your hair to one side and leaning forward across the console. His abs tightened and he gasped softly as you licked at his tip. His hand gathered up your hair, holding it back out of the way. He would tell you it was for your sake, but you knew he loved to watch himself sliding in and out of your throat. 

You hummed softly, taking the head into your mouth, letting your tongue slide over his sensitive underside as you sucked gently on him. He groaned softly, shifting impatiently. “Oh fuck yes…” 

You giggled around him, making him jerk slightly, letting your fist pump him as you suckled teasingly on his velvety head. Releasing him with a wet noise, you peered at him through your lashes. “Feel good baby?” you said darkly. 

He hissed, watching you squeeze and twist your fist the way he’d trained you. “Yes, so fucking good for me,” he breathed, pushing your head back down. You moaned at his forcefulness, that aggressive side of him that rarely made an appearance but was oh so fucking hot when it did. You took as much of him as you could in your mouth, beginning to work up a rhythm. Up and down, slicking up his length with your spit and the accumulating precum leaking from his tip. 

Danny’s jaw fell slack, his head falling backwards against the headrest as his hand followed your bobbing head, your hair his leash on you, controlling your speed. You moaned against him, feeling his head nudging your uvula, triggering your gag reflex. The wet cough you let out egged him on even more, as he grit his teeth and stared darkly at you as you descended even further around him. “Good girl, fucking choking on my cock,” he growled, shifting around slightly as he rolled his hips into your mouth with your movements. Not quite fucking your mouth, just toeing that line. 

You nodded around him, filthy wet slurps echoing in the otherwise silent car. You let your hand that was resting on his knee slide up and down his thigh, squeezing at the muscle as you held your head down, swallowing around him. You gagged and pulled off him, jerking him quickly in your mouth’s absence. 

Finally getting a good look at him, you panted softly. His eyes glazed over and dark as night, watching you through hooded eyelids, and his curls slightly frizzed from tossing his head against the headrest. He focused on your swollen lips, his jaw clenching in time with his fist tightening in your hair.

“Did I say stop? Fucking suck me,” he growled through gritted teeth. 

With a shove that would have been easy to resist if you wanted to, you moaned as his hot, slick cock slipped back into your mouth. His words sent a rush of heat straight to your core, and your thighs shifted together for friction. 

He chuckled, although it sounded shaky in his current state. “Wish I could watch you grind that pretty pussy against the seat.” 

You whined pathetically, sloppily bobbing your mouth around him as you rhythmically squeezed and jerked his base. He groaned, biting his lip before sighing. “Mmm, you like that idea, huh?” 

You nodded around him, resulting in a filthy slurping noise, pulling off him momentarily with a broad lick up his length. You gasped out, “I could cum just from this, I swear.” 

He let out a feral sounding grunt, looking down at you hungrily. “You could cum just from sucking my cock? Fuck baby that’s so hot,” he whined, his panting getting heavier. 

You groaned into him, angling him so his tip pushed into your cheek with each movement. He watched with his jaw hanging open as his cock stretched your cheek, his brows knitting tightly together in the centre of his forehead. “Oh fuck,” he gasped, his eyes squeezing shut as his head fell back. 

You pulled back, jerking his cock frantically, filthy wet fapping noises sounding everytime your fist met his pubic hair. “Fuck my throat Danny,” you begged breathlessly, a whine coloring your words. 

He grunted, nodding his acquiescence. With a tightened fist in your hair, his other hand held your jaw and he began thrusting his hips up into your face. 

“You’re gonna have to swallow, baby,” he reminded you, sounding delicious fucked out. “Can’t get cum in this car.” He managed a breathless chuckle. You moaned softly against him, nodding your understanding. No problem at all. As if you’d waste a drop anyway. 

His hips sped up, fucking into you desperately now, chasing his peak. “Ohh… Uh-“ He cried, holding your head in place as your tongue worked him while he thrusted. “Fuck… ohhh my God, fuck, I’m cu- OH fuck, I’m cumming,” he whined loudly, bucking into your mouth with reckless abandon, shallow quick thrusts filling your mouth as you moaned into his thick length. Then with a final, animalistically growled cry, he pushed deep into your throat, holding you there and spasming slightly with the intensity of his orgasm, spurting into your mouth as you swallowed and gagged around him. 

You pulled off as soon as he was through the peak of it, stroking him to work him through it as he came down from his high, both of you panting heavily. He let out a feeble whimper as he jerked away from your hand, becoming sensitive in his afterglow. You released him gently, pressing a kiss to his softening cock. Straightening out, you stretched your back, then smiled lovingly as you leaned into your boyfriend. He smiled lazily, pulling you into his chest and kissing your hair sweetly. 

Once he caught his breath, you pressed a kiss to his warm neck, nuzzling into him affectionately. He hummed contentedly, whispering into your hair, “Thank you baby…” He kissed your temple, “you’re so good to me.” 

You giggled softly, lifting your face to look at him. His eyes had gone back to that soft, affectionate glow, his soft smile absolutely melting your heart all over again. “I love you so much,” you told him softly, gently cupping his jaw and running your thumb over his cheek. 

He turned his head so his lips were under your hand, and he kissed your palm while holding eye contact from the corner of his eye. Facing you straight on again, he smiled brightly, mischief dancing in his eyes. “So should I buy one of these suits?” 

You groaned dramatically, playfully holding your hands over your heart. “I don’t think I could handle it.” 

He giggled, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up. “Have I changed your mind about cars then?”

You bit your lip, eyeing him up. With a teasing finger tracing down his chest, you cocked your head thoughtfully. 

“Mmm… not yet, I’m gonna need more convincing.”

#greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #gretavanfleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #danny x reader #danny wagner smut #danny gvf fic #danny gvf #danny wagner #daniel wagner #daniel wagner fic #daniel wagner smut #danny gvf smut #danny wagner fic #danny wagner gvf

[automotivealchemy]

Volkswagen Off-Road Thing Compact SUV Concept

What if...Volkswagen made an off-road oriented version of the Thing with a few configurations? This version would have a solid top, removable hardtop, and a targa top version of it. The ride height would be a lot taller than the standard gasoline and electric Thing, with larger wheels and tires and all wheel drive for that offroad conscious enthusiasts.

#autos #cars #automotive #classic car #sports cars #sedan #compact suv #fast cars #car #auto #volkswagen thing #volkswagen

[aiautos]

The Chevrolet Corvair was a compact car produced by General Motors from 1960 to 1969. The 1965 Chevy Corvair was a part of the second generation of the Corvair, which was produced from 1965 to 1969.

The Corvair was introduced in 1960 as a direct competitor to the Volkswagen Beetle. It was notable for its rear-mounted, air-cooled engine, which was a departure from the traditional front-mounted, water-cooled engines found in most American cars. The first generation of the Corvair was produced from 1960 to 1964, and it included a range of body styles, including sedans, coupes, convertibles, and station wagons.

In 1965, the Corvair was redesigned for its second generation. The new model featured a more angular design with a squared-off roofline and a longer hood. The engine was also updated, with a larger, 2.7-liter version replacing the previous 2.4-liter engine. The new engine produced 140 horsepower and was available with either a four-speed manual or a two-speed automatic transmission.

The 1965 Chevy Corvair was available in several body styles, including a two-door coupe, a four-door sedan, a convertible, and a station wagon. The coupe and convertible models were particularly popular, thanks in part to their sporty styling and relatively low price.

Despite its popularity, the Corvair was not without controversy. In 1965, consumer advocate Ralph Nader published a book called "Unsafe at Any Speed," in which he criticized the safety of the Corvair and other American cars. Nader argued that the Corvair's rear-mounted engine made it prone to instability and rollovers, and he called for stricter safety regulations for the automotive industry.

The controversy surrounding the Corvair did not stop production, and the car remained in production until 1969. Today, the Corvair has a dedicated following of enthusiasts who appreciate its unique design and engineering. While it may not have been a commercial success, the 1965 Chevy Corvair remains an important part of automotive history.

#Chevrolet #human generated images #ai written context #reality #nonfiction #this is getting suspicious

[airkewld]

Friday June 30th, 2023 | Airkewld HQ | Stage 1 PRObuilt Beam & GEN 2 BAD Series Disc Brake Combo

A major part of the #AirkewldArmy contingent is our dealers who trust in the PRO's when it comes to building projects for their clients and it starts and ends with quality products that makes life easier, not harder.

That is why Auto Fanatik in Florida uses #PRObuilt components from Airkewld.

Alvin and his team are working on a Late-Model Karmann Ghia that needed the drive-train to be adjustable and tunable. Up to 10" of ride height adjustment and 24 different ride quality settings. That is STANDARD with a Stage 1 PRObuilt Beam (4" narrowed) with adjustable shocks from RideTech/Fox Racing. Then couple that with a set of American Made disc brakes, utilizing a 4 Piston Wilwood caliper, coated in Black powder coat. This GEN 2 BAD Brake set up uses a 5x4.50 bolt pattern and can easily be changed out to any other 5 lug configuration in a few minutes and ft lbs, due to the removable bolt patterns on the (Billet Assembled Disc) assembly.

Super trick feature is the hidden speedo cable connection under the Airkewld Star. I love it.

Every PRObuilt Beam comes with a PRObuilt Steering System that allows for an effortless and playless steering enjoyment.

Stage 1 PRObuilt Beam - https://www.airkewld.com/Stage-1-PRObuilt-Adjustable-Beam-Complete-2200-p/2200.htm - $3096.94

Labor to install Brakes - https://www.airkewld.com/Install-Brakes-onto-Ball-Joint-PRObuilt-Beam-p/9825.htm - $75.00

GEN 2 BAD Series Brakes - https://www.airkewld.com/Classic-VW-Front-Disc-Brake-Kit-4152G2-p/4152g2.htm - $1610.40

Total shipped to an R&L Terminal near you (Lower 48 States) ( https://www.airkewld.com/article-a/342.htm ) for pick up, $4700+

Save some moolah with coupon code AKArmy when checking out as well. Due to a high volume of orders, 12-14 weeks is standard turnaround for this.

I am AirkewldArmy

Coming together in a community of like minded enthusiasts who have a passion for the Classic Volkswagen and learning how to build them the right way with education, candor, and safety in mind. Together…., we are the AirkewldArmy.

[arsistq4545]

At the Pinnacle of Wonders: The Legendary Tale of Bugatti

Bugatti is renowned in the automotive industry as an unparalleled luxury and performance brand. The French sports car manufacturer has earned a massive fan base worldwide for its unique designs, revolutionary technologies, and top-tier performance.

Roots and History of Bugatti

Established in 1909 in the town of Molsheim, Germany, by Italian-French automobile designer Ettore Bugatti, the brand has consistently focused on not only perfecting performance and speed in its cars but also placing a significant emphasis on aesthetics and elegance.

Securing its first major success in the 1920s with the Bugatti Type 35, the brand gained recognition for its unique design and lightweight construction. The Type 35, with its distinctiveness and agility, dominated over 1000 races, solidifying Bugatti's legendary status.

However, Bugatti's history extends beyond racing triumphs. In 1998, Volkswagen Group's acquisition marked a new era for Bugatti, leading to the creation of groundbreaking models like the Bugatti Veyron.

Bugatti Veyron and Chiron: The Perfect Fusion of Luxury and Performance

When Bugatti introduced the Veyron in 2005, it set a new standard worldwide. With a 1001 horsepower engine and a top speed of 400 km/h, the Bugatti Veyron held the title of the fastest and most powerful production car of its time. The Veyron not only redefined speed but also elevated the concept of luxury with its impeccable design and specially crafted materials.

Upon the Veyron's successor, the Bugatti Chiron continued this legendary tradition. With 1500 horsepower and a maximum speed of 420 km/h, the Chiron remains a celebrated legend in the automotive world. Its luxurious interior design and handcrafted details provide a first-class experience for both the driver and passengers.

The Future: Bugatti's Vision

Bugatti aims to continue pushing boundaries in the future. Adapting to the trend of electrification, Bugatti's upcoming models will merge high performance, elegance, and eco-friendly technology. This approach will allow the brand to marry its rich history with the expectations of the modern world, bringing a breath of fresh air to the automotive industry.

Bugatti's unique design, outstanding performance, and luxurious details tell an iconic story that continues to captivate automotive enthusiasts and luxury car aficionados. As Bugatti persists in the automotive world, we eagerly anticipate the brand's future innovations and successes.

#nct 127

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

Hi I love this blog you are so cool keep doing your thing!!! Lots of love from a Volkswagen enthusiast over in Europe ❤️

(btw. Opinions on the Karmann Ghia pls I love it and one day I hope to have enough money to own one 😭)

hi, thank you! i think the karmann ghia is my favorite classic VW honestly, i’ve always found them really charming and funky in a great way! shoutout to the VW thing, love that weird little car too

#not a car id #asks #anon

[christmaslightssalesman]

The Sexuality of Steel

#aesthetic #aesthetics #vintage #seattle #washington #washington state #volkswagen #volkswagen beetle #vintage volkswagen #vintage vibes #vw #vw enthusiast #vw beetle #vintage cars #cityscape #city #town #street photography #groovy #vintage photography #photos #photography #my photos #photograph #canon photography

[en-wheelz-me]

#vw #volkswagen #vw id #xtreme #concept

[eleemosynecdoche]

The reason fascists sometimes express an admiration for Israel is the same reason Adolf Hitler both saw the United States of America as one of the two ultimate expressions of Jewishness in the world (the other being the USSR) and deeply admired American prosperity and industrial excellence and demanded more Fordism, the Volkswagen as the Aryan Model T. Or American cold warriors expressing admiration for the USSR or PRC. Not just fascists, but most people, are capable of finding an opponent detestable and admirable at the same time. For fascists in the contemporary world, the "cult of the badass" and the fetishization of the Israeli victories in the Six-Day War and Yom Kippur War by more normal conservatives and military history enthusiasts help make this duality more digestible, by producing a ready depiction of Israel as virtuous (by fascist definitions) and thus potentially admirable.

[enbysiriusblack]

ten lines, ten people

thanks for the tag @drownedlove <3

rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. if you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart (or else my heart concealing it will break)

Marlene Mckinnon drove up to Hogwarts sixth form, cherry red volkswagen and music on full volume as she pulled into one of the last driving spots. A car, packed with girls all laughing and talking, abruptly stopped, the driver just about to drive into the spot before Marlene. 

Marlene grabbed her bag and jumped out the car, throwing a finger up at the other girls and ignoring their shouts of dismay. 

She walked towards the entrance to school, to Lily, her only friend, who stood by the door immersed in a Shakespearean play. She looked up as Marlene approached. 

“You realise we’re not studying that till the end of the year”, Marlene said, leaning against the wall next to Lily. 

“Better three hours too soon, than a minute too late.”

Marlene rolled her eyes, “nerd,” before glancing onto the poster on the wall just next to her head. 

‘Prom’ the words said in large bubble letters at the top. Marlene instinctively tore it down without a second thought.

Lily glanced to her in unsurprised annoyance, “Was that necessary?”

“Yes.”

Just a prank? (they cry themselves to sleep)

"Sirius? You alright? It's like 2am, what are you doing up?" 

Sirius crawled back into bed, with a small laugh, "I'm not up. You're up." 

"Well yeah. You woke me up by being up." 

Sirius laughed, and James got out of bed, making his way over to Sirius. 

As he got there, he smelt a strong stench of firewhiskey.

"Are you drunk? Where did you get alcohol from?" 

Sirius shrugged, "Brought it with me." 

James snorted, crawling under the covers, "You were on a limited time to pack everything you own and you decided to pack drinks?" 

"Bare essentials, Prongs." 

James laughed and closed his eyes, "You're an idiot." 

When all is said and done

"Hi, how can I help?" Mary asked with a tired smile.

The customer smiled back and a distant image of James Potter appeared in her smile. Mary shaked it away. 

"I was wondering if you had this in xs? I could only find large and xl on the rail." 

"If you wait here, I'll check in the back for you." 

She walked off and entered the backroom, where her work friend was taking a break. 

"Mary!" She cheered, like Marlene did, "I had to clean some kid's puke earlier. I am definitely quitting. It was disgusting." 

She spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, just like Lily's.

"You say that every day." 

She shrugged, "One day, I promise you. One day. I'm going to do something so much more. What about you? I don't think you've ever talked about any big dreams." 

Mary found the shirt in xs, but turned back to her friend before leaving, "this was my dream." 

All the fools sailed away

The Carrow's manor was almost as dark and ancient as his own; he could feel the dark magic that haunted the home, radiating off the walls like lingering curses. 

Other death eaters started to take off their masks and sit down in the dining hall. He followed with them. Peering at the faces of those sitting around him, he recognised all of them from growing up or other meetings. It was all the same.

Apart from one new member. They sat down in an empty seat on the other side of the table. And as they took off their mask, a shock ran down Regulus as he recognised the tired, shrinking death eater. 

He looked older than before, not just in the way someone did when you hadn't seen them for around three years, but in a haunting way. Like the person had changed dramatically. The person he once knew was hopeful, enthusiastic, and innocent. So innocent. And now they were drowning. His face pinched and withdrawn, a sort of despair written on them, down to their bones. A zombie of who they once were. 

And as Pettigrew turned to Regulus, his face washed in a familiar guilt. His eyes full of lies and regret. Regulus knew it well, the same thing he caught every time he saw his own reflection. 

The devil wears an angel's face

"It's been three weeks and Potter still hasn't been in touch", Moody said with a sigh, "I'm going to need you to go out there."

Remus looked up from his desk, "I'm in the middle of researching this monster. James is fine, he always forgets to check in."

Moody nodded in agreement, "I know. But Mia and Monty keep bugging me saying they think something is wrong."

Remus groaned, "Alright. I'll go out there but don't blame me when James is perfectly fine and you have to deal with the phones ringing nonstop from hunters knowing absolutely nothing."

Remus went upstairs to start packing for the journey, when Euphemia came into his room.

"Thank you so much, Remus. We're really worried about him, he should've gotten in touch by now."

Remus shrugged, "Just doing my job. He'll be fine, don't worry."

Euphemia laughed, "I can't help but worry. Now you be safe too, alright? And borrow Monty's horse, you'll get there quicker."

Remus pulled his bag over his shoulders, "Thank you, Euphemia."

She pulled him into a hug, "Be careful, darling."

We are the dead

James slid down the bannister of the stairs, and once at the end, jumped off and ran inside the kitchen.

"Hi dad!" He grinned, sitting down at the large table.

Fleamont winked at his son, before piling food onto a plate for him.

Euphemia walked in, kissing her husband's cheek. He filled up another plate for her as she made tea for them all.

"Jamie, sweetheart. Where are your things? I told you to put them in the hall yesterday."

James' eyes widened and he jumped out of his seat before running back upstairs.

Euphemia shook her head with a grin on her face, "that boy. I'll go help him pack."

She made her way up to James' bedroom, opening the door and seeing James whizzing around.

"Mum! Hi!" James grinned at her as he sped around his room, throwing things into his trunk.

Euphemia sighed and sat on the bed, neatly folding the clothes he threw in.

Two hearts colliding

"Are you sleeping?"

Dorcas crunched a nut between their teeth, "Yes."

"Are you eating?"

Dorcas picked up another nut from the complimentary bowl, "Your guess?"

"Are you suicidal?"

"Depends how much longer I have to sit here for."

"Are you hurting yourself?"

"Only mentally."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's a joke. Regulus, a friend of mine, makes those sort of jokes a lot. Guess it catches on."

"Please don't joke. This is serious. Why did you try to set your apartment on fire?"

"It was an accident."

Fistclenching, heartaching

Marlene ran down the corridor while eating a slice of buttered toast, slamming into the doorway and falling onto the floor.

"Ah. Come in, Come in, Miss Mckinnon. Take a seat."

She stood up, putting her bag back onto her shoulder and finishing her toast. She took her usual seat, starting to zone out as she drew on her hand with gel pens that she stole from Lily the other day.

Slughorn read out a list of names, partnering people up to avoid an incident like last lesson when he let everyone choose their partners and Remus and James blew up half the classroom.

"Mckinnon. You're going to be with Meadowes over here."

Marlene looked over to the slytherin she was assigned to work with. She hadn't spoken to them before, but recognised them from around the quidditch matches, around the castle, and in classes.

Dorcas moved over to Marlene's table after a few minutes of neither of them moving. Marlene rather liked her seat, it was at the back and in the corner out of the teacher's eye and all her friends were sitting nearby.

She simply refused to move to appease them.

What is this, parent trap?

"Have you even tried telling Mother I don't require outdoor experience? When would I ever need to learn how to row a boat or roast a marshmallow in a civilised society?"  The family butler forced his smile away as he glanced at Regulus through the car window, "What if you were to join the rowing team at Eton? And that is besides the point, Regulus, your mother has requested for you to attend this summer camp and you will obey her wishes."  Regulus leaned forwards in his seat, sparing a glance to the other kids as the car pulled up, eyes drawing to a messy looking boy scrambling with a blonde girl in a pile of dirt, "But look at them! Half of them are already covered in mud!" "Making connections with peers is an important step to take at your age. You'll be surprised of the sort you may meet in a place like this."  He leaned back in a huff, "I doubt that." 

The butler stepped out of the car, tutting as his shoes instantly stepped in a puddle of mud but still went round the car and opened Regulus' door.  Regulus didn't get out.  "What about chess camp? Or I could go to the Rosier's for the summer? They have a villa in Greece, that could be educational."  The butler sighed, moving instead to the trunk and pulling out all of Regulus' bags.  "This was your mother's wish and you must respect it. I'm not leaving until you get out of this car." Regulus groaned, slowly standing up and grimacing at the rocky, muddy ground he had to stand on.  "This is grotesque." 

Red strings burning our souls together

"Hello" A little boy with short black hair and grey eyes leaned against the doorway, he was dressed in a fitted suit as if for a funeral or wedding.

Remus stared back at him, "Hi", he said back.

The boy grinned and walked over to his bed, standing by the end of it.

"I'm Sirius Black", the boy grinned.

"Remus Lupin." 

Sirius paused before speaking again, "Why are you in here? Are you ill?" 

Remus nodded, "Obviously." 

Sirius tapped his fingers on the bed sheet until his mind thought of something bad, "Are you going to die?" 

Remus nodded with a small smile. 

Sirius gasped in shock and took a step away from the bed.

Remus smiled even wider, "Well everyone will eventually." 

"Even me?" Sirius looked confused. 

He nodded again, "Yep. But probably in loads and loads of years when you're wrinkly and grey though." 

Sirius' face contorted into disgust, "I don't wanna be wrinkly and grey. I'll be absolutely handsome and beautiful and I'll never look old at all." 

tagging: @queerdeadwizards (pretend I tagged 10 ppl and not 1, I cant think of ppl rn in too ill)

#tag game #my fics #my wips #marauders era #marauders #marauders fics

[diabolus1exmachina]

OSI 20M TS 

The  car developed by Ghia for Ford would be called the OSI 20M TS, or alternatively the OSI-Ford 20M TS or the Ford OSI 20M TS.It was a handsome coupe thanks to the design work of Sergio Sartorelli – also the stylist of the Volkswagen Karmann Ghia, the Fiat 2300 S Coupe, the Fiat 126, and a range of other cars. The car was produced in two key versions, both with essentially identical bodies. The key difference was the 2.0 Ford V6 fitted to earlier cars and the 2.3 liter V6 fitted to later cars.From an engineering perspective the cars were relatively standard for the era, with a steel unibody inner shell, MacPherson strut front suspension, a live rear axle on leaf springs, front disc brakes, and rear drums.The elegant design of the 20M TS is still winning it fans today, few people who see them can identify them due to their rarity, and there’s a committed enthusiast base in Europe who find and restore them.The OSI 20M TS was only produced in 1967 and 1968, some say 2,000 were made, others say 2,200, and some even say 3,500. The one thing that all agree on is that there are 200 or fewer remaining today.

#OSI 20M TS #Ghia #Ford #v6 #Sergio Sartorelli #Volkswagen Karmann Ghia #fiat 2300 s coupe #Fiat 126

[adamwatchesmovies]

Bumblebee (2018)

Calling Bumblebee the best of the live-action Transformers movies is faint praise. Even if you consider the 2007 film's action sequences and special effects/character designs, the bar wasn’t high. It's a shame. This is what a movie translation of the series should’ve been from the beginning. It focuses on just a few characters (including a charismatic lead) and builds their relationship using methods that have worked before but are no less effective.

On the robotic planet Cybertron, the Autobot rebels are on the verge of defeat at the hands of the cruel Decepticons. Young Autobot scout B-127 lands on Earth to establish a new base, only to be ambushed and critically injured. Disguising himself as a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle, the amnesiac "Bumblebee" is discovered and repaired by Charlie Watson (Hailee Steinfeld), an 18-year-old music lover and car enthusiast.

The obvious comparison is to both E.T. the Extra-terrestrial and The Iron Giant. A lonely child befriends an alien who must be kept hidden from the authorities. Shenanigans ensue when it’s left unsupervised because it acts more like a child than a member of an advanced species. There are a few times when entire scenes in Bumblebee feel like they’ve been copied and pasted from those other stories with only the names swapped out. This means the best it can get is a bronze medal while Spielberg and Brad Byrd’s movies duke it out for a combined gold. That’s ok. This movie is miles ahead of the next contestant and the Autobots/Decepticons bring some new ingredients to the mix.

It’s a prequel, which means the plot’s set in the ‘80s. Rather than feeling like a cheap bid to exploit nostalgia, it really works here. The Transformers is an ‘80s franchise and setting things in the past allows us to get back to its roots in multiple ways. Aside from Bumblebee and the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime (voiced by Peter Cullen), all the characters are new. We’re not trying to tie up the innumerable loose ends created by the "previous" movies. We’re just telling one effective story centered around friendship and personal growth. The big threats are Bumblebee being discovered by U.S. Army Colonel Jack Burns (John Cena, a great choice for this role) and a pair of villainous Decepticons (voiced by Angela Bassett and Justin Theroux). Charlie’s summer job at the carnival - though crappy - also makes you recall simpler times. Gone are the bathroom jokes, the dubious roles for women and visual minorities and the cacophony of shredded metal while entire cities are laid to ruin.

Then there’s the music. Throughout, we hear great tunes - and not simply the usual “best ofs”. This soundtrack feels like it belongs to Charlie. They help flesh out her character and her relationship with the alien robot. It helps that Hailee Steinfeld is a gem. You just want to walk up to her and give her a big hug, particularly when she’s lamenting the death of her father (a subplot that’s nicely handled by the director and the actress alike).

The action scenes we do get are clearly shot and remain tense because we care about the characters. You want Charlie to survive. You also want her to overcome her grief, make friends, maybe even fall in love with her shy neighbor, Memo (Jorge Lendeborg). You like Bumblebee because the amnesic robot is funny and because he's kind of cuddly in a "child-like giant metal man that can inexplicably understand English" sort of way. Yes, the bulk of the times we saw the yellow 'bot he was in some bad stories but you still have a bond with him, one not unlike Charlie’s.

Upon initial release, Bumblebee was merely billed as a prequel to the franchise. I say ditch those other stories and keep going with this route. While it may be slightly derivative of other projects and the mechanical villains could’ve been developed further, this is solid ground on which you could start a franchise… for real this time. (On Blu-ray, September 18, 2020)

#Bumblebee #movies #films #film reviews #movie reviews #transformers #travis knight #christina hodson #hailee steinfeld #john cena #jorge lendeborg jr. #john ortiz #pamela adlon #jason drucker #2018 movies #2018 films

[aiautos]

The Volkswagen T1 camper van, also known as the Volkswagen Type 2, is an iconic vehicle that has captured the hearts of many around the world. It was first introduced in 1950 and has since become an important part of popular culture, associated with road trips, camping, and adventure.

The T1 was designed as a commercial vehicle to transport goods and people, but its versatility and reliability quickly made it popular among families and outdoor enthusiasts. The spacious interior allowed for comfortable sleeping arrangements, and the van's compact size made it easy to maneuver on narrow roads and fit into tight camping spots.

In the 1960s, the T1 became a symbol of the counterculture movement, with hippies and surfers adopting the van as a means of traveling and living off the grid. The T1's unique style and customizable interior made it an ideal vehicle for those seeking freedom and independence.

Throughout the years, the T1 underwent several design changes and improvements, including the addition of a larger engine, a split windshield, and a sliding side door. The van was produced in Germany until 1967, and then continued to be manufactured in Brazil until 2013, making it one of the longest-running models in automotive history.

Today, the T1 remains a beloved classic, and many enthusiasts continue to restore and customize these iconic vehicles. It is a symbol of adventure, freedom, and the open road, and its popularity shows no signs of fading anytime soon.

#Volkswagen #human generated images #ai written context #reality #nonfiction #what's going on here