#anita's life sucked but she's slowly getting better.

[miss-choco-chips]

YJ College au: Zatara

Zachary Zatara is both a myth and their housemate.

In which Bart has a cryptic-buddy, Tim is stressed because cute boy insists on being annoying, and everyone else just rolls with it.

Tagging @animemangasoul and @marudny-robot cause I know you guys like this au

--.--.--.--

As usual after pulling an all-week-er (he had left the ‘nighters well behind at this point), Tim was up late that saturday. The window had been left open last night, so a soft streak of sunlight wamed his bed, waking him up slowly and peacefully. Yeah, he would have liked a few more hours, but sunbathing in his sheets for a while wasn’t all that bad either. What would make this half-awake-half-dreaming experience would be some chill music.

Muddled mind made, he rolled in his bed, hand patting the mattress for his phone, squinting his eyes open when he hit something different instead.

He found himself to be almost nose to nose with a dark haired, grey eyed boy.

Tim started that fine morning screaming himself hoarse.

-.-.-.-.-

Sitting at the kitchen’s table, getting everything ready for a late sunday breakfast, Kon raised his head when he heard the strong sound of a scream, followed by… yeah, that was a body hitting the ground. It was unmistakable, in this house. 

“Oh, hey guys”, he called to the attention of the rest of his housemates, all in equals states of zombie-ness, with not as good hearing as his. “Zachary is here.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“The fuck, Zach? My bed? Did you HAVE to crash on my bed? Why are you even here?”

Tim, four coffee cups after his pseudo heart attack half an hour ago, was ready to face the day and their intruder.

“Dude I live here as well, you know. Also your bed is literally the softest thing I ever slept on, you rich bastard. Learn to share.”

“I’ll buy you your own fucking mattress if you swear to never crawl on my bed uninvited again.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose, suggestively. “What was that about an invitation?”

Distressed and not feeling awake enough (he was still two cups away from that) to deal with bi thoughts this early in the morning, he turned his most helpless look to Conner.

Because he was the best friend ever, he threw a pillow to Zachary. And because he was a suck up to anyone who brought him food, Bart intercepted the hit and gratefully accepted the candy bag he got in thanks.

“But actually, Zat, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Berlin?” interjected Cassie, her own tea (the heathen) cup warming her hands as she cuddled with Cissie and Greta on the couch, legs in each other’s laps and generally being the cutest shit ever.

Anita, not very keen on that kind of sweet love, had been wrestling with Slobo for control over the remote for the last fifteen minutes. Miguel was keeping count on their hits for them, though it was mostly assured he would rig the whole thing up to whoever had bribed him better before the fight.

Tim just wanted to go back to sleep in his sun-warmed bed.

“C’mon guys, keep up”, moaned Bart, candy bag half empty already, “he was there two weeks ago. He had an exam yesterday so he came back last monday.”

“...come again?”

“I’ve been room-hopping ever since, though none of you seemed to mind. Until I disturbed sleeping beauty over here, at least.”

Miguel’s eyes left the fight to squint suspiciously at them. “We weren’t aware you were doing that. Where did you sleep? How didn’t we notice?”

“I'ma mystery. I also move around a lot when sleeping so I probably ended up under someone’s bed after crashing from studying. Oh, Anita, if you were wondering, your purple bra is under Cissie’s bed.”

Anita slowly let go of the grip she had on Slobo’s neck. Her eyes shone something dangerous. Cissie, the one who was apparently hosting the boy all along, also stood up and frowned.

“How do you even know that bra is mine!!”

“What the fuck were you doing under my bed, you bastard!”

Tim sipped his coffee, bitterly. “At least he was under it, and not sharing it.”

Kon patted his back.

-.-.-.-.-..- 

“I swear, Jay, he thrives on making me lose my shit. He just… comes and goes whenever, leaving no proof he was ever there, or acting like he was always around. Drives me nuts. I’m not sure he even attends classes, and I only know he actually has a right to enter our house because his rent money always appears on the kitchen table a day before its due. He doesn’t even have a room, why does he even pay? To have an excuse to scare the shit out of the rest of us. Except Bart. The little shit lives for our suffering.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, sipping his beer as he carefully examines his brother. Tim looked less tired than the last time they saw each other, and the modifications done by his psychiatrist had done wonders to the shadows in his eyes. But he seemed somehow… frazzled.

“And he was just there when you woke up?”

“His nose was touching mine.”

“I bet your little bi heart couldn't take that, huh? Is he cute? Maybe you invited him to share your bed the night before and just don’t remember. You know how you get after a week of disregarding your general wellbeing.”

“Oh, shush you. I take care of myself. When was the last time you went to your check in with Patricia?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I missed one session, because I have exams too you know? But I’m up to date with Silvio, and we are working on slowly easing me off the medication.” He noticed the way Tim looked at his drink, expression screaming bullshit, and he scowled in response. “Fuck off, it’s alcohol-free. Kori and Artemis would have my head if they caught me mixing my dosage with anything stronger than tea, and I can’t deal with Biz and Roy’s disappointed eyes.” 

Tim thought of the last time he refused to see his therapist, and the look in everyone’s  (specially Kon’s) eyes, and had to agree. Having friends sucked when one wanted to wallow in self destructive conducts.

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, he’s not cute enough for me to forgive his weirdness. You know the people I roll with, so this is saying a lot. And I would remember inviting him to my bed, if anything for the mortification of it. I’m also…”

The ring of the doorbell distracted them both of whatever Tim was gonna say next. Waving his brother off, Jason got up to pay for their pizza.

When he returned to his living room, Tim was no longer alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” He exclaimed, eyes going back to the hallway at his back, then again at the black haired, grey eyed kid sitting next to Tim. “And how did you get in? We are on the sixth floor and I was just at the only door I have.”

Tim raised his eyes at him, and he seemed equal parts resigned and frazzled. ‘Told ya’, he seemed to say.

“Yo, the food’s finally here. I’m starving. The name’s Zachary Zatarra, by the way. Tim’s friend and housemate.”

“Allegedly” mumbled the other under his breath, earning himself a smile and pat on the back. “Don’t question it, Jay. He’ll be gone after a while when none of us are paying attention. Just let it be.”

“But while I’m here”, the other boy continued, grinning devilishly as he looked at Tim and then Jason, “instead of questioning how did I get in, what about I tell you all about your lil bro’s crush? It 's adorable.”

Tim raised an eyebrow “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“Like I said, adorable. He’s so oblivious, it’s precious.”

Decision made, Jason left the pizzas at the coffee table and went to fetch a soda for their guest. Gossip, especially about his siblings, was the best way to gain his immediate cooperation. And he could always force the answers about Zatara out of Bart; the brat was terrified of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey, who has to cook tonight? Because I’m craving chicken nuggets.”

Cassie raised her eyes from her magazine, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Uhm… Zach, I think?”

Miguel nodded. “Okay, thanks, where can I find him to suggest my dinner idea?”

Cissie, legs on Cassie’s lap, dropped her head over the couch’s armrest. “Ask Tim? Wasn’t he crashing with him this week?”

That same moment, said boy entered the room, shaking his head. “No, he was sharing with Anita and Cassie.”

“No, he wasn’t… Slobo?”

“Not with us either”, denied Miguel, sharing a look with his roommate to confirm just in case.

“Conner?”

“Didn’t Bart say yesterday he was driving him to the airport?”

“Wait, he left the country again?”

“More importantly, can Bart drive?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When Tim came back home from class, Damian was in his living room. Using a laptop. Sitting side by side with Zatarra.

This couldn't be good.

“Hey, Timbo, welcome back.”

“Drake.”

Not uttering a single word, Tim turned around and walked out of there. Sleeping on a park bench seemed like a preferable choice, compared to finding out exactly why the two banes of his life were sitting together. It was healthier, good for his peace of mind.

Something something self care? His therapist would be so proud.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey dude.”

“Zatara. Your presence here disrupts my room’s feng shui. Please remove yourself from the premises.”

“This disaster zone is the farthest thing from armonious. If anything, I’m improving it.”

Tim raised his eyes from the computer screen. He could always kick the other man out, but that would require leaving the nest he made out of blankets and snacks on his bed. Perhaps a more civilized option would be better. Besides, as boundary-less as the dude was, he didn’t step into the room, just remaining on the doorstep, so whatever he was here for, he most likely needed Tim’s willful compliance.

“If I listen to what you have to say, will you leave?”

Zatara smiled angelically, like butter wouldn’t melt on his mouth, but the look behind his eyes was nothing short of devious. “That’s actually what I came to speak with you about. I have a show…”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“A magic show. Dude, you do know I’m a magician, right?”

Tim didn’t, in fact, know that, besides baseless suppositions about his disappearing-and-appearing abilities. But he had an all knowing facade to maintain, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

“Right, so, I have a show scheduled for tomorrow, but I took Bart out to dinner yesterday so I’m all dried up, and I need to buy a plane ticket asap.”

“Are you asking me for a loan?” he inquired, incredulous. As a general rule, all their housemates refrained from that. Something about not wanting to take advantage of their billionaire friend…

“No, no. I’m offering you a…. service.”

“Look, Zach, no offense? But you ain’t cute enough for me to stoop that low and pay for the… pleasure of your company. I can just give you the money and you pay me back whenever, dude.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! You wish I was offering something  of the sort” he laughed, arms crossed and side leaning against the doorframe, chest and arm muscles perfectly visible. Tim kept his eyes carefully above neck-level. No need to give any weakness away.

“Then?”

“I know you love me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make you miserable, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Are you familiar with the ‘Buy my silence, $8.000 a month’ meme? Then get ready for a ‘pay for my absence’, my good bitch. I thought maybe you’d like...”

“Sold. I buy it. Take my credit card and go, be free, roam the world. Just get out of my room and fucking text once in a while so I know you’re alive.”

[izzy-b-hands]

A Little Bit Louder

Brian/Trans M Reader, smut, and the difference the years can make in NSFW encounters (in other words, Brian goes from v quiet in bed to v loud and it is The Best Thing!)

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

"I don't think anyone can hear us in here," you prompt Brian.

He smiles and giggles softly into your ear, but otherwise is silent as he thrusts, your leg lifted up on his shoulder.

"Seriously," you murmur. "Let me hear you a little!"

But his lips linger at your neck, and he gasps when he comes, otherwise…

"Nothing," you report back later to your friends. "I know he's quiet onstage, but I thought surely, in bed…"

You sigh. "It was good regardless though. And what a story to have, hm?"

---

"And how many people did you tell that story to?" Brian teases. His hand loops loosely around the pint glass on the counter you both sit at, and his eyes reflect the night so far: drinking after his show, even after the rest of the band and crew had wandered off back to the hotel.

"None except my friends," you laugh. "And they just bet I couldn't get you to fuck me again, and that even if I did manage that, I couldn't get you to be loud."

"Loud?"

"In bed," you smile and sip from your own glass. "I don't mean that as a critique, it was…"

You let a hand drop under the bar counter to his knee, resting there for just a moment.

"Good. But I was surprised at how quiet you were; I thought you might make up for how soft and serious you seemed onstage."

His hand leaves his glass to find yours, holding it under the counter. The bar is empty, but not enough for a more open show of anything between the two of you.

"We're in town an extra day and night," Brian says, dropping money on the counter for the bill. "Stay with me."

You sigh. You never had any interest in pretending not knowing when he has people at home. "Brian. We aren't kids anymore, hell we weren't then either."

"I have permission," Brian says, deadly serious. "At least,I got permission when I knew we'd be near your town."

"We've exchanged letters maybe every three years with pauses in between," you smirk. "And you were so sure I would want to hook up again?"

"Not sure," Brian says softly. "Just hopeful. And Anita...we...I don't know that this is a topic for public conversation."

"No promises," you say. "But if you can give me some proof of this, then sure. I might be up for it."

Brian leads you outside, and you walk back to his hotel, holding hands whenever the street lights are off.

---

"She thought you would want something physical as proof," Brian hands over a letter. "She wanted to have a picture or video of her writing it, so-"

He hands over a sheaf of Polaroids too. In them, Anita smiles, raising her head from a paper that matches the look of the one in your hand.

"This-" you start to read it, and smile. "Oh! I didn't expect this, I thought-"

"It's unusual," Brian interrupts with an embarrassed laugh. "But this way, we get to extend our own scene a bit. I can play with people we both trust, but only if she agrees to loan me out, if you will."

You nod, handing the letter and photos back. "You did scream 'submissive' even back then."

"I did not," he laughs.

"Absolutely did so!"

"Do I still?"

Brian sets aside the letter and pictures, letting his hands fall at your waist. "The mustache has finally grown in. I like it."

"It only took what? Twentyish years?" you smile and lean into his touch. "You really do like it though? After all, I didn't have it the last time we-"

He leans down and kisses you, and you can taste the unspent energy, the beer you'd both been drinking. There's loneliness on his lips, the way he gasps into your mouth at a pause, yet the whine he lets out still surprises you.

"Has someone learned something since last we fucked?" you tease.

"I can make up for it," he murmurs against your lips, crushing his hips close to you, his cock half hard in the skinny jeans you couldn't take your eyes off of when he was onstage. "I was...shy, back then. Thought you'd get up and leave right then, or be embarrassed or-"

Your hands, resting at his hips, move to tug open the button of his jeans. "You'd have to do a lot of ridiculous shit to get me out of bed with you. Being loud will only keep me in it longer."

He steps back, and starts to strip off his clothes, watching as you do the same. "So if I'm loud enough, I can convince you to come visit me when I'm back home?"

You pause. "You'd want that?"

"Certain things Anita isn't into, or can't give me," Brian replies. "That's not the only reason we do this, but it's part of it. She said...she's read your letters. She likes you, so if you'd ever want-"

You nod, and stride forward, pushing him back onto the bed with your kiss. "It's been so fucking lonely here, I thought a different city would make a difference, but it's even smaller here. People watch me, the way they look at me-"

"Then come somewhere bigger," Brian interrupts, wrapping you in his arms. "I can't guarantee it's better by a lot, but you can disappear into London. And I can see you more often there."

"Anita will loan you out?"

"Anita will probably set up a schedule with you to get me out of the house and her hair, now and again," Brian laughs. "Though, if you'd ever be willing to join us…"

"I would be," you say. "If she'll have me."

Brian nods, and everything else melts away.

His hands linger over you just the way they did before, tracing gentle patterns over your skin. It's mesmerizing, and you snuggle up to him, grinding your cock against his.

It leaves Brian moaning, beautifully, in between each kiss. He's not overly loud, but it's a world's difference from your first hookup with him, and it makes you all the more eager.

"Enough, just get inside of me," you beg.

"I'll get there," Brian laughs. "I thought age would make you patient!"

"I can be patient for you another night," you say. "When I visit you, maybe?"

"If you insist," Brian smiles and motions for you to move off of him.

You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase for a bottle of lube and a condom, tossing them onto the bed by you.

"Did you buy these just because you were coming here and seeing me?"

He blushes. "I don't want to seem presumptuous-"

"I'm in your bed, I think it's a safe presumption," you interrupt with a giggle.

"But I also wanted to be prepared," Brian finishes, and drops to his knees at the edge of the bed. "Get over here."

"This is new," you grin as you wiggle your way down to the end of the bed. "But then again, we didn't have as much time back then, did we?"

"We didn't, but I still should have," Brian winces. "Like I said: making up for things."

You lay back and relax as he slips your legs over his shoulders, reaches up to hold your hands, and starts to lap at your folds.

"Not everyone is comfortable at first," you say. "Sucking me off, I mean, so if you need a ti-"

Your advice cuts off as he takes your cock between his lips and sucks, with just enough pressure to short out your brain.

He pauses and lifts his head. "Alright?"

"Why did you stop?" you groan. "Please don't stop."

"Hm," Brian raises a brow. "Someone might need a gag, if you're going to be round with Anita too."

"You have something that could keep my mouth busy," you smirk down at him.

"That I do," he murmurs as he kisses at your thigh. "We'll keep that in mind for next time."

"But-"

"I said I was making up for our last time together," Brian says. "Let me focus on you for tonight, alright?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he dips back down and sucks at your cock, humming and moaning around it, holding you down when it makes you squirm.

"I know I'm not making you think of me as any less impatient," you whine. "But Brian, please."

"What was that?" He lifts his head and smiles.

"You little shit," you shake your head. "I said please."

"Please what?"

"Brian!"

He licks up your folds, and you break.

"Fine, fucking hell! I want you to get up here, get this condom on, and fuck me until I can't walk or think straight. I don't want to leave this fucking room until you have to get on the road again, and god help me, but if you'll have me, I'll leave my shit here and follow you on tour and back home, and never come back to this piece of shit town again!"

He slips out from under your legs, and sits back on the bed as he rolls the condom on. "Do you mean that?"

"All of it?" you ask. "Yeah."

"Even coming with me, making that your move elsewhere?"

"My job I do from home anyway, it's all paperwork I mail out and get mailed to me," you reply. "I haven't been here long enough to get another cat, so all I have is to toss what little I have in a few bags, and go."

You move over to let him roll into the bed, tossing a leg over him as he slips his lubed up cock in between your folds, slipping inside achingly slowly.

"You'd really upset your life for me?" Brian asks as he starts to move his hips, too slow for your liking, but at a pace that's easy to match.

"It's not an upset when you've been spending months figuring out how and where to move already," you reply. "This isn't an upset, it's... perfect."

"I'll make sure you have a place, somewhere safe, and-"

You kiss him wrap your arms around him. "I know you will. Every letter you've sent, you've told me as much. That once we could be around each other again, we'd look after each other. First few years I'll admit, I thought it was maybe rockstar bullshit-"

He cackles at that, burying his face into your shoulder, curls in your face.

"But you kept writing me, and you were always interested in how I was and if you could help me or come see me, and even if we didn't have the time and ability to connect until now…"

He raises his head, and you press a kiss to his forehead, moaning at the harder thrust he offers.

"There's some saying about good things not happening until we're ready, right? Well, now we're both ready."

He nods, but buries his face back into your shoulder, whining and moaning and gloriously loud in your ear. His thrusts are more forceful now, and you cling to him, leg pressed tight against his hip.

A bang echoes against the wall, and you both pause.

"Are...is that the room next door?" you giggle.

"That's Spike, next door," Brian replies, and reaches a hand up to slap at the wall.

There's an echoing bang again, and you both break into giggles.

"You've gone too far the other way now!" you tease. "Too loud!"

"I didn't think I was that loud," Brian says as he starts to move again, hips snapping against yours. "Not yet, at least."

You let him roll you into your back, and the memory of your first night together comes flooding back. One leg propped over his shoulder, his cock hard and deep in you, his other hand rubbing at your cock.

But this time, he's loud. Whining and moaning and mumbling your name, until he comes.

He shudders as he flops forward onto you, and lets your leg drop to his side, still working his hips though any hope of rhythm is gone.

You follow him a moment later, wrapping your legs around him, crying out his name even as another set of bangs echoes from the wall.

You cling to him, pressing kisses to his chest and shoulders until he rolls of off you with a sigh.

"Better?" he smiles.

"Fantastic," you reply, and lean over to kiss him.

"I can do you one even better when we get home," Brian sighs. "No angry neighbors interrupting us."

"You've not gotten any noise complaints with Anita?"

"No," he laughs and shakes his head as he gets up to toss the condom away.

"Then Anita and I have a goal to work towards," you say sweetly. "And we'll apologize to Spike in the morning."

"And every morning after this, if we've got time," Brian smiles and drops back into the bed. "Speaking of…"

[warren-lauren]

Still Got It - Present Day!Brian May x younger!reader

Omg I am totally dying for a present day bri x reader fic! Haven’t seen one of those in awhile haha could you write a smut one where a way younger reader (like mid-late 20s) and bri have been casually hooking up and then bri suddenly feels self conscious about him being older and reader makes him feel better about it and then feels?

----------

Warnings: age gap, reader mid-20′s, dom!Brian, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it), cheating, self-doubt on Brian’s part

Still got it...

Being Queen + Adam's publicist, as well as the publicist for Brian and Roger's solo projects, meant you spent a lot of time around them. No one questioned your presence around them, even outside of touring. You became very close to the three of them, you were one of their close friends.

You were closest to Brian. The two of you were... intimate. There'd always been something there between the two of you. You didn’t mind his age, it only showed he was mature and a gentleman. You loved that he was kind, and caring to you, treated you like a 'little girl', that needing taking care of. Sometimes he treated you like a 'naughty girl' and gave you a spanking if he needed to.

"Is Brian in?" You smiled politely at the young girl behind the desk of the rescue centre.

She nodded. "He's in his office, Y/N, but he said not to be disturbed." She glanced over to the unusually shut door that leads to him. "He doesn't seem himself." She whispered as she leaned over the desk towards you.

You frowned, "What do you mean?"

She let out a little sigh as she glanced back over to the door. "He hasn't come out of his office all day. He's not even gone out to the hedgehogs."

"Oh," You looked over to the door. The blinds were pulled down, essentially blocking the world out. "Well, don't worry. He can't, not, talk to me." You gave her a sly smile.

The young girl grinned. "You always manage to put a smile on his face, Y/N."

Yes, I wonder why.

"Do you want coffee?"

You shook your head, "I'm good thank you." You smiled before heading over to Brian's office. You took a deep breath and slowly pushed his door open. "Bri?" You called out to him. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze finally landed on him.

Brian lifted his head, his eyes seeming to brighten ever so slightly as he looked at you. "Hello, love." He gave you a weak smile, taking his glasses off. "How are you?"

You shut the door behind you, then walked over to him. "I should be asking you. Tina says you're not yourself? Everything okay?"

"Fine." He huffed, dropping his gaze back to what was on his desk and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

Your brow creased as you dropped your bag to the floor. "You don't seem fine."

"Well, I am."

You rolled your eyes, "No, you're being grumpy." You dropped into the seat opposite him. "What's going on with you? You're usually bright and cheerful."

"Everyone is allowed a day to be, grumpy, Y/N," Brian grumbled as he hunched forwards.

You studied him in silence for a few minutes, before you stood up and moved around his side of the desk and forced him to turn his chair around. You slipped your arm around his shoulders and sat on his knee.

"You're sad," You gently pulled his glasses off and put them on the desk before you brushed some of his curls back. "I can see it in your eyes, Brian, something is wrong."

He sighed and leaned into your touch as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "It's nothing, love, honestly."

You shook your head. "Bri, please tell me. Are you okay? Is it your leg again? Your heart?" You asked slightly panicked as you placed your hand on his forehead as if you'd work out what was wrong with him.

He huffed and grabbed your wrist. "No! It's none of that shit. I am, fine!" He glared up at you making you feel guilty for pestering him.

"Sorry." You mumbled and pushed yourself off his lap.

"Y/N," Brian leaned forwards, "M'sorry, baby girl, I didn't mean to snap at you." He took your hand and pulled you closer to him, pushing you gently until you perched yourself on the edge of his desk. "It's just..." He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm bloody old, Y/n."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm old." He sighed, "What on earth do you see in me?" He sat back in his seat and removed his hands from you. “I'm grey, wrinkly, fat, fragile, slow... almost triple your age." He shook his head and pushed himself away from you. "You shouldn't be wasting your time with an old fool like me. You should be off with someone your age, who can take you out and not keep you a secret. Who's not married-"

"Stop! Just, stop it, Brian!"

You dropped to your knees in front of him and covered his mouth with your hand, your other one rested on his shoulder.

"One, yes, you're older than me but you've never let that stand in your way of anything. You use your wisdom from the years of living your life to the fullest to teach others, including me, and Adam, and all your followers and fans. Two, your not wrinkly, just aged like a fine wine."

You smiled up at him softly as you removed your hand from his mouth and cupped his face. Brian smiled weakly, leaning into your touch ever so slightly.

"You're still as sexy, if not more so with your grey curls."

Brian scoffed, "If you say so." He smiled.

"I do, and you're nowhere near fat, so you can stop thinking like that and as for fragile... my arse, you are. And, tell me again you're slow when your slamming into my pussy," You whispered against his ear before moving and pressing a soft kiss to his lips that he thankfully returned. His hands slipped across your sides, giving you a soft squeeze. "And the married thing, I thought we both agreed we knew what we were getting into when we started this?"

Brian nodded, "You're right, I just... I don't want you getting hurt by any of this if, things go tits up."

"I'll be right there by your side if that's what you want. Any time you want this to end, you just say the word and I'll leave. Do you want me to?" You asked, feeling your heart practically bursting out your chest.

Brian shook his head and leaned forwards, pressing his lips against yours in a much harder kiss this time. "Please, don't leave me, baby girl. I need you." He whispered before kissing you again.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your tongue tangling with Brian's as the two of you deepened your kiss.

Brian was the first to pull back, the two of you taking in a deep breath. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

You nodded biting your bottom lip. "Back to mine? I have something to show you, actually." You grinned cheekily at him as you began to get up from where you knelled between his legs.

Brian nodded, "Sounds good, baby girl. I'll meet you there." He pressed one final kiss to your lips before he too got up from his seat.

The two of you left Brian's office, saying your goodbyes to one another before heading off in different directions.

You had a feeling you knew where Brian was going, most likely home to make his excuses for his absence for a few hours. You tried not to think about it, it made you sad.

A little guilty, sometimes but Brian assured you his marriage to Anita wasn't anything more than just on paper anymore. In all the years you've known Brian, you've never really spoken to Anita, even before you and Brian began being extra friendly with one another.

You'd spoken to Roger about it before, not giving too much away but you were sure Brian had informed his friend of your relationship because he knew Roger would never judge. He'd said himself it was like they were just housemates now, not like they were a married couple.

Once you had arrived home, you took a quick shower, mostly to soften your skin with some of the body lotions and oils Brian had given you. Before getting changed into your surprise for Brian. It was a baby pink silk slip that split up the sides until it came to your waist, where lace covers your breasts, showing your already pebbled nipples. It had a matching thong, that you knew Brian was going to love.

“Y/N?” Brian called out as he shut the door behind him and dropped his key onto the small table the door.

“In here, Bri!” You answered from your bedroom.

Brian quickly took off his coat and hung it up, before he kicked his shoes off and then made his way to you. “I got us a bottle of-” Brian froze, his mouth going dry as his gaze landed on you, knelt on the bedroom floor before him. “Jesus, Y/N, are you trying to give me another heart attack?” He grinned at you.

You bit your lip as you shook your head, giggling. “Of course not, sir.”

Brian let out a deep growl as he put the bottle of wine on top of the chest of draws before he walked towards you. “No, of course not.” He placed his hand on the back of your head gently. “I know what you want to give me.”

You nodded and reached up to unbuttoned his jeans. With his help, you dropped his jeans and his briefs to reveal his hard cock. You licked your lips at the magnificent sight before you. You didn’t care that Brian was in his seventies, he had a cock like the God he was.

“Can I taste you, sir? Please?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Brian nodded. His eyes fell shut as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, giving it a light squeeze before you leaned forwards and ran the tip of your tongue over the head of his cock.

“Oh, baby,” He breathed in deeply as you ran your tongue over his smooth skin slowly. “Oh, I’ve missed this.” He moaned as he threaded his fingers through your hair. “Please, baby, don’t tease me.”

You smiled up at Brian. You pressed a light kiss to the tip of his cock before wrapping your lips around it and giving it a firm suck before sinking down his hard length. You moaned around him, the taste one you easily became addicted to.

Slowly you bobbed your head, your lips tightening around his cock as you sucked. Your tongue running up and down on his underside before you pulled off his length and began to pump his cock using your saliva as lubricant.

“Is that good, sir?”

“Oh, God,” He moaned. “That’s it, baby girl.” He pushed your head back towards his cock. “Please, keep sucking baby girl. You’re so good with that pretty mouth,”

You grinned up at him before wrapping your lips around his cock again. You sped up, sucking his cock harder and twisting your hand around his shaft.

“Oh, fuck... baby,” Brian’s hips moved forwards, pushing his cock further into your mouth.

You moaned around him, sucking and slurping. You moved your hand from around Brian’s cock and cupped his balls, lightly squeezing them. You pulled off smiling up at him, “Please, sir, cum in my mouth. Let me taste you.” You begged.

Brian nodded as he pushed you back. He held your head in both hands and began pushing his cock in and out of your mouth. After a few more pumps he held your face close to him, his cock down your throat, and let out a deep growl as you swallowed around his cock.

“Fuck!” Brian growled as he came.

You pulled off Brian’s cock, gasping for air before licking your lips and looked up to him through your eyelashes.

Brian smiled, exhausted but happy as he held his hand out for you to take. He pulled you up, wrapping his arms around you and pressed his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. His large hands squeezed your waist and hips.

“Let’s get a look at you then, love.” Brian grinned, pushing you back slightly. A low growl left his chest as his eyes drank you in. “Yep, definitely trying to give me a heart attack.” He chuckled lowly. “Get on the bed, baby girl. Spread your legs for me.” He winked at you.

You let out an excited giggle, doing as you had been told to.

Brian kicked his shorts off, along with the rest of his clothes. He licked his lips as he watched you spread your legs. Your tiny thong doing nothing to hide your wet pussy.

“Beautiful,” Brian whispered as he knelt between your legs, running his knuckles over your wet thong. He pushed the thong to the side and pushed two of his long fingers inside your dripping core, stretching you open. “So, warm and wet.” He moaned.

“Please, sir,” You moaned, “I need you.” You begged, your voice was breathy.

“Shh, baby, let me play with you first.” Brian lightly caressed your thigh as slowly pumped his fingers inside of you, twisting them before scissored his fingers. “Fuck.” He moaned, “I love this pussy.”

You cupped your breasts and rolled your nipples through the lace as Brian rubbed his thumb against your aching clit.

Brian grinned as he slowly pulled his fingers from inside you. You let out a deep moan as he lifted his fingers and put them into his mouth. “I can eat you all day, baby girl.” He winked as you before he leaned forwards. “Good girl,” Brian praised you as you opened your mouth for him to place his fingers in.

You moaned and sucked around his fingers.

“Get on your hands and knees, baby girl,” Brian ordered. You nodded eagerly and turned over, pushing yourself up so your backside was in the air.

You let out a loud cry of pleasure after Brian slapped his hand across your backside. Brian pushed the silk up until your backside was visible before pulling your thong down to the middle of your thigh.

“Are you going to fill me up, sir?” You wiggled your ass in the air for him.

Brian let out a short chuckle before slapping his hand across your cheeks once more. “Yes, baby, I am.” He said as he took a hold of his cock, frowning slightly. “Hmm, do you have-”

You picked the bottle of lube up from next to your pillow and looked at Brian over your shoulder. “Here,” You smiled softly, “It’s flavoured. In case you decided to have a taste after.” You winked teasingly at him making him chuckle.

“Thanks, baby girl.” He took the bottle from you and squeeze a generous amount onto his cock and began to slowly pump his cock, hissing at the feeling and the excitement of soon being engulfed by your heat. “Ready for me, baby?” Brian asked as he ran the tip of his rock through your folds.

You hummed, pushing back onto his cock. “Yes, sir.”

Brian moaned and slowly pushed into you, his hands sliding over your backside to rest on your hips. “Oh, fuck,” You moaned out along with Brian as his thick cock began to open you up. “So, good,” He breathed out as he bottomed out, his balls laying against your clit.

“Please, sir.” You begged.

Brian was usually a soft, caring lover unless you had been naughty and then he would fuck your brains, but tonight he had to prove to himself.

He quickly pulled out of you before slamming back into you, the head of his cock hitting your G-spot and causing you to cry out. He growled deeply as your pussy swallowed his cock, over and over. His hands tightened around you as he pulled you on and off his cock, his balls slapping against your clit, adding extra pressure and causing you to see stars.

“Oh, God. Fuck. Brian!” You cried, “Yes! Yes!”

“That’s it,” Brian hammered into you, slapping his hand against your cheek. “Fuck, baby... God!”

Breathy moans and cries of pleasure echoed around the room as Brian slammed into you. He reached over you and wrapped his hand around your throat, lifting you up until the two of you were pressed together. As he tightened his hold around your throat, Brian used his other hand to pull down the front of your slip, a slight tear here and there as he fought to get to your breasts.

He pressed his mouth against your neck, his breast fanning over your sweat-covered skin as he squeezed and pinched your breasts. “Fuck, baby girl, I can’t last much longer.” He heaved.

You shook your head, “Cum, Brian, please. Fill me up!” You begged. You turned your face towards him as you reached up and grabbed Brian’s face, crashing your lips against his.

Brian growled into your mouth as your pussy quivered around his cock. Brian gave one final, sharp thrust and came. His arms wrapped tightly around you as the two of you held onto one another.

As you pulled back from one another you could help let out a small giggle, “Told you, you’re not slow... sir,”

Brian chuckled, “No, I guess you’re right, but don’t be expecting that for a bloody while.” He kissed you once more.

Still got it...

[pengychan]

[Coco] Down to Dust, Pt. 13

Title: Down to Dust Summary: After it all came crashing down, Ernesto’s to-do list is short: stay hidden, and wait for the Final Death. Héctor’s is even shorter: enjoy being with his family again. But life - or rather, the living - will get in the way even of the simplest plans. Characters: Hector Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, the Rivera family in general, Miguel Rivera, Socorro Rivera. [Part 1 can be found here. All parts up so far here.] 

A/N: Adding the read more makes weird characters appear because Tumblr is weird like that, but it reads fine once you click on said read more. Tumblr WTF. Also, did you know that one of the Coco deleted scenes has given us a glimpse at what happens if someone from the Land of the Dead fails to cross the bridge back by dawn? No? Well now you do and it’s gonna be relevant.

***

When the petals disappeared and Socorro with them, Héctor let out one of the biggest sighs of relief he could remember heaving. He wasn’t the only one: they all did. Miguel looked like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Imelda’s hand found his own.

He knew that they would have to talk soon - that she deserved and certainly expected an apology and an explanation over his silence regarding Ernesto’s whereabouts - but for now, there was only relief. He squeezed her hand back, and smiled.

“She takes after you a lot, you know,” he said, and her mouth quirked upwards for a moment - then her gaze moved to Ernesto, and the smile disappeared.

He hadn’t moved at all: he was still kneeling down, the now unlit petal gone from his fingers and his gaze fixed on the pavement. Finally, slowly, he lowered the hand that had been holding up the petal and placed it over his damaged ribs, his shoulders tensing. With his only bargaining chip gone, he looked like he was bracing himself for a blow - but none came, neither physical nor verbal. When Coco broke the silence, her voice was quiet.

“Thank you for sending her home.”

Ernesto scoffed. “I didn’t do it for any of you,” he said, his voice hollow.

Imelda scowled, and her hand was halfway to her boot when Ezequiel moved first, causing her to still; he let go of Rosita’s gown to walk up to Ernesto, the alebrijes close behind. He crouched and wrote something on the whiteboard that was clearly meant for Ernesto’s eyes only, because none of them got to read it. Ernesto let out a snort. “Oh, is that what you asked of her? I’m moved,” he muttered, only to pause when Ezequiel wrote something else.

This time, he stayed silent for a few moments before he shook his head slowly. “I’m not your family, niño. Only a relative. Though I do see the resemblance now. Must be the dashing good looks, or the nose,” he said, the ghost of a smile on his face. He seemed to hesitate before he reached to brush back the boy’s tousled hair. “There, much better. You’re going tibia all right,” he added. Ezequiel let out a snort that might have been a snicker, and threw his arms around his neck. Ernesto stilled, taken aback and hand still in mid-air, before he sighed and lowered his arm to hold him back for a few moments.

When he spoke again, he did so with his eyes shut.  “... Héctor.”

He didn’t need to add anything else. “We’ll look after him. We promised.”

Ernesto let out a long breath, opened his eyes and let go of Ezequiel. Rosita moved in to gently pull the boy away; he looked saddened, but not surprised - the look of someone who has been left behind before, and who knows it’s for the best. Ernesto slowly pulled himself on his feet, glancing down at his alebrijes.

“You stay with him,” he added, causing the tiny dogs to lower their ears, huge eyes almost unbearably sad. Ernesto turned away from them to look at Anita, his own eyes empty. He was the very portrait of defeat. “I believe there is a reward you’re after.”

For a moment she looked almost confused, like she’d forgotten why she was there, but she recovered quickly and nodded. “Sí. Come with us without giving trouble, and-- Fabricio, stop crying, seriously - we might even forget the stunt you and the kid pulled at the warehouse.”

“How generous of you,” Ernesto said drily, and put up no resistance at all when they moved in to tie his hands behind his back. Ezequiel scowled and moved to step forward, but Rosita’s hand on his shoulder and a silent shake of Ernesto’s head were enough to stop him. The boy turned to Héctor, and he found himself calling out without thinking.

“I’ll keep my promise. I’ll drop the charges,” he said, not quite knowing if he was talking to Ernesto or to Ezequiel. He half-expected Imelda to say something, to protest against the idea, but she said nothing. Ernesto scoffed without turning.

“I told you, I don’t care what you do,” he muttered, and that was it. Héctor could only stare at his retreating back for several moments, at a loss for words, before Victoria spoke suddenly.

“It’s almost dawn. We need to send Miguel home, too.”

“Oh, of course!” Coco exclaimed, suddenly alarmed, and they all turned to look at Miguel. His skull was beginning to show beneath his face, like it had eight years earlier. That had been close, much too close, and Héctor didn’t want to waste another minute. Luckily, Coco was already pulling a petal out of her pocket. “Miguel, I give you my blessing-- oh. What is it, dear?” she asked when Ezequiel suddenly pulled at her gown. He looked up at Miguel, and reached into his pocket to pull out a… a… what was that?

“Ah, Socorro’s player. You had it when that van hit you, didn’t you?” Miguel asked, crouching in front of the boy. Ezequiel nodded, and held it up, only for Miguel to take his hand and close his fingers around it. “No. It’s all right, chamaco. I’m sure Socorro would want you to keep it. Think of her when you listen to her favorite songs,” he added, and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t give our familia too much of a headache, all right? That does include running off with wanted people and ticking off criminals,” he added, winking.

Ezequiel nodded, holding the player to his chest, and gave a somewhat sheepish grin. Miguel smiled back, and ruffled his hair, laughing at the subsequent huff of protest. “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he snickered, and stood again, turning to Héctor. “Good luck with this one, guys. And... sorry for all the mess. I’ll have a new song for you next year to make up for it.”

“Oh, don’t mention it!”

“It was nice catching up, chamaco.”

“And meeting Socorro properly!”

“Oh, can I take a look at that player, Cheque? How does it work?”

“We won’t break it, honest…”

“... Just take it apart to see how it works…”

“Sun’s almost out,” Imelda spoke up, a note of urgency in her voice. “Coco, the blessing.”

“Of course.” Coco held up the petal, and smiled up at her great-grandson. “Miguel, you have my blessing to go home, and give Elena… no, give everyone your biggest hug from me,” she said. The petal glowed, and Miguel smiled.

“Of course, Mamá Coco. Love you,” he said, his voice breaking up just a bit, and reached for the petal - and then he was gone in the blink of an eye. Héctor let out another sigh of relief, reaching to put a hand around Imelda’s shoulders, and she didn’t move away from his touch.

They would still need to talk but, for now, he felt it was enough.

***

“Miguel!”

“Ooof! Easy there! I’ve got a stomach again and might just throw up if you jump on it!”

“I couldn’t see you coming back! I was getting worried!”

“Oye, I’m the big brother here. I’m the one who has to worry. Don’t leave me out of a job.”

Socorro laughed, and Miguel found that the sound was worth enduring all of the worries in the world, all of the terror a human being could bear. He picked her up despite her protests that she was too big to be picked up now, and twirled with her a couple of times among the graves, causing her to laugh again. They walked away from Mamá Coco’s grave, past de la Cruz’s defaced mausoleum, and paused by Cheque’s tomb. The cracked whiteboard was back on top of it, and a few words had been added to it, in Socorro’s round handwriting.

I knew you would never.

They were quiet for a few moments, then Socorro broke the silence. “I need to tell Abuelita he’s all right. And his fosterers, too. I promised him I would,” she said. “Oh! And I’ll get our school to make him a plaque so that no one forgets him! And I want to learn how to make shoes so that Abuelita and I can make him new ones for next year! And… and something he can play! Just not a guitar, because people would expect him to sing along and he can’t. Maybe one of those funny flutes, what’s its name...”

“An ocarina?” Miguel guessed.

“Yes! I’ll get him one of those! And… can you write a song for him, too?”

Miguel laughed. “Your wish is my command. I’ll write a song for him and play it next year, so that he can hear it,” he promised. They kept walking to the exit of the cemetery, coming up with ideas and plans for the following Día de los Muertos, as a street dog who was not a street dog at all ran up to them and began walking by their side, heading back home.

Above them, dawn was breaking.

***

“Is he sleeping?”

“Yes, fast asleep.”

“Well, he had an eventful night. Aw, he’s sucking his thumb! Isn’t he adorable?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about letting the dogs on the bed with him, though. It’s not hygenic.”

“Oh, please. When you and Elena were children, you kept sneaking that pet goat of yours in your room all the time.”

“Diego was a very clean goat, papá. We don’t know where those have been.”

“Well, they are alebrijes. Not just dogs.”

“Pepita is an alebrije, too, but she doesn’t try to climb in bed with people.”

“You know that she would if she could fit through the door in the first place.”

“Fair enough.”

“We’re all out of spare rooms now, though.”

“We have to add new ones. Can’t leave Elena and Franco without one when they come!”

“Oh, I don’t think there is any rush. They looked well and healthy yesterday evening. They might just live longer than I did. Now come away from the door, let the boy rest. I think we all could use a good pot of coffee…”

Imelda watched her daughter lead the rest of the family towards the kitchen, smiling faintly. She would join them in a minute, but for now she wouldn’t mind some peace and quiet, given how frantic the night had been. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. Peace and quiet. Peace and--

“... Imelda?” Héctor’s voice caused her to open her eyes, recoiling a little. He had walked in so silently that she hadn’t even heard his footsteps - and to think that usually she could even tell what kind of shoes someone was wearing by just listening to them walking. She turned to see her husband standing in the doorway, his hat in his hands.

“Dropped all charges?” she asked, unable to keep some distaste out of her voice. She didn’t like the idea, not at all… but Héctor had promised as much, and de la Cruz had, at least, given Socorro the blessing she needed. It was something she could not ignore.

Héctor nodded. “Yes. They’ll release him next week. I… can we talk a minute?”

Imelda knew right away what it was that he wanted to talk about, of course. She was tired, but may as well do it. She had spent enough years refusing to listen to him and, justified as her anger may have been, she did regret it knowing what she knew now. So she drew in a deep breath, crossed her arms, and looked straight back at him.

“You had known where he was hiding for years,” she stated, and Héctor nodded.

“Yes. The first time I spotted him, I… I honestly just forgot all about it. It was the day Coco joined us,” he added, and his expression melted in an almost dreamy smile. It made it nearly impossible for her to keep frowning, because she remembered so well how overjoyed he had been to see their daughter again. It had taken a very, very long time before he let go of her to let anybody else hold her, and even longer for him to resume speaking coherently.

By then they had been working for a few months to rekindle their relationship. It had been so long, so much had happened, and they couldn’t really pick right up from where they had left off. Music united them as it did before, but more was needed to fix something that had been shattered such a long time ago… and Coco’s arrival had been a turning point, balm to old wounds. That had been the day Imelda had known, beyond doubt, that they were going to make it work. And they had; they’d come too far to let de la Cruz come between them again. So, at the very least, she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

As long as he had a good explanation, of course.

“But the second time I saw him, I… I did decide to leave him be. I know you’re angry,” Héctor was saying, unaware of her thoughts. “And I am sorry--”

“And why do you think I’m angry?” she cut him off. Héctor fidgeted a little with his hat.

“Because… I put our family in danger. I let Ernesto be a danger.”

A sigh. “That is what terrified me,” Imelda admitted. “The thought that monster could succeed where he’d failed eight years ago… I hadn’t been so scared in a long time.”

Héctor smiled a little. “And it didn’t show at all.”

“Everyone was counting on me to know what to do,” Imelda said. That had been true that night as it had been eight years earlier: she couldn’t afford to show how terrified she was.

“I… I am sorry. It was my fault. And it all ended up on your shoulders again,” Héctor muttered, but Imelda shook her head.

“It wasn’t your fault. Looking back now, perhaps it was for the best that he was never arrested,” she added, and smiled a bit at Héctor’s stunned expression. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know what I’m getting at - Ezequiel could never give any blessing. Maricarmen would have still faded away too early, and de la Cruz would have been our only chance regardless. If he’d been arrested, tried and imprisoned years ago…”

“... He would have never given his blessing tonight,” Héctor finished, and nodded. “Right. Couldn’t really promise to drop all charges after the trial had ended, right?” he added with a small grin. Imelda nodded, but there was a moment of silence that said, loud and clear, that they both knew that promise hadn’t been the reason why Ernesto de la Cruz gave Socorro his blessing. Maybe there was a shred of decency there, after all, but it hardly mattered. It wasn’t de la Cruz Imelda wanted to talk about, now or ever again.

“It worked out in the end,” she  said, then, “You know it wasn’t you leaving him be that really made me angry, don’t you?”

Héctor nodded, the small smile fading. He reached to hold an arm close to his side, as he often did when he felt guilty. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s because I never told you I’d found him. You, or… anyone else in the family.”

“Sì. De la Cruz didn’t only murder you - in doing so, he hurt our entire family. And you are part of it now. When you found him, you should have never kept it for yourself. We could have left him alone if you really wished to, but we should have decided together.”

“I know.”

Imelda sighed. “Why did you leave him be?”

Héctor hesitated, and looked away before speaking again. “I guess I pitied him,” he admitted. “I know I shouldn’t, after all he did - to me, to you, to Miguel, to Coco. I was knocked down so many times and one would think I’d have been satisfied to see him in my place, but… it was just sad. To look at him and think, this was my best friend. Like Cheque and Socorro, you have seen them - we were that close, before I even knew you. We grew up together, he even saved my life once or twice, so what happened? And I know that he happened, that the blame is his and not mine,” he added quickly, much to Imelda’s relief.

It had taken a lot of time for Héctor to stop blaming himself for everything. If only he’d never left, if only he’d thought of leaving the songbook to Ernesto, if only he hadn’t dismissed how desperate he’d been, if only he hadn’t taken the drink - if only, if only, if only. So much blame that should land squarely on Ernesto, and no one else. At least he knew that now, but Imelda could tell it was easier to blame himself than to admit that he had been horribly wronged by someone he’d loved like a brother.

Seeing Socorro trying so desperately to help her best friend, shouldering so much responsibility as she hoped against hope that he would never, no matter how bad things looked… well, it had helped her to really see why for the first time.

“... But it was still hard to think about, and I didn’t want to. If I just walked away, I could almost pretend that it hadn’t really been him. That I’d imagined it and it had really only been bad luck. I didn’t want to think about him again,” Héctor was going on. “There would have been a trial, witness statements, a lot of media attention just when it had died down. I didn’t want it to consume any more of my time again. Not after I had you - all of you - back with me,” he added, and looked up at her. “You were all I wanted to focus on.”

His words might have been enough on their own, but it was the look he gave her that sealed it: it was the open and utterly vulnerable look of someone who had been nothing but completely sincere. With a sound that was half a sigh, half a laugh, Imelda crossed the distance between them and threw her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace at once, a hand reaching to stroke her hair. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“I know. You’ll drive me crazy one of these days.”

“Maybe, but not too much. Only un poco loca,” he said, and that made her laugh a bit. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I will never keep a thing from you again.”

“You had better,” she retorted, and they shared a quick kiss before she pulled back and tilted her head towards the kitchen. “They’re making coffee. I don’t know about you, but I need it.”

Héctor nodded. “Sure. I wonder if they’re using the coffee machine Óscar and Felipe built.”

Imelda blinked, an alarm bell beginning to ring in her mind. “They built a coffee machine?”

“Yes, they said it would brew faster than any other, blah blah, something about pressure and steam, blah. They wanted to try it out soon. Huh… didn’t they mention it to you?”

The alarm bell turned into a blaring siren. Óscar and Felipe were gifted, but their prototypes did have a tendency to malfunction, and rather badly at times. That had been how they had died, and Imelda remembered all too well the sense of helpless exasperation when they’d turned up in the Land of the Dead together, mere months after her death, looking all the world like chastised schoolchildren. Without her supervision, things got out of hand quickly.

“They knew better,” Imelda all but snarled, and turned to march into the kitchen, to put a stop to whatever disaster was about to happen.

Too late. There was a sudden, furious hissing sound that turned into a whistle and then a bang that stopped Imelda on her tracks, followed by several shrieks, and bout of barking. Then, Felipe called out.

“We’re okay!”

“That was calculated!”

“Sort of.”

“That wall needed a new hand of paint, anyway.”

“We’ll do it!”

“As soon as we get that lid out if it…”

There was laughter coming from the kitchen and, Imelda realized, from behind her as well. She turned to see that Héctor was almost bent on two, snickering madly despite his clear effort not to. He gave her an apologetic grin.

“Hehe! I mean, sorry! It’s just--” he tried, but Imelda didn’t get to hear whatever he meant to say next. She had no idea if it was the exhaustion or the still lingering sense of relief - maybe both - but the next moment there was more laugher and it was coming from her own mouth.

The rest of the family stepped out of the kitchen - and a boy with tousled hair and eyes full of sleep stepped out of his new bedroom with four yapping alebrijes in tow - to find her and Héctor holding onto each other, cackling and cackling, seemingly unable to stop.

***

Honestly, Ezequiel didn’t see it as lying or anything.

No one had asked whether or not he planned to stay in touch with Neto - de la Cruz - and he’d never promised not to, either. So, all was good. It was only a matter of keeping that for himself. It was no one’s business but his own and besides, if anyone had asked him to explain why he’d want to keep in touch he wouldn’t be able to explain it at all. He just did.

He wasn’t going to meet him, because he had almost hit him with a hammer - fine, he’d hit him with a brick first, but he maintained that was justifiable all things considered - and he wasn’t an idiot, thank you so very much. But he had given Socorro his blessing, and he’d left the alebrijes with him, too.

That latter bothered him a lot, now that he’d had a few days to think about it . Diablo had bonded with him, but the other three were restless and Ezequiel was sure being away from Ernesto was the reason why. It wasn’t fair: they were Ernesto’s alebrijes, not his own, and they were all that he had left. They were not supposed to be apart.

So when he’d heard Héctor mentioning he would be released that day, Ezequiel had known that the right thing to do would be sending them back, and maybe write a few lines while he was at it. Just to let him know that he was all right. After all, alebrijes were supposed to be messengers as well as spirit guides. May as well put that to use.

Slowly, keeping a finger on his lips in case the alebrijes had the bad idea to start yapping and get everyone’s attention, Ezequiel opened the front door. A tilt of his head was all it took: three alebrijes ran out in the dimming light of dusk, already looking for a familiar scent.

Diablo paused, and looked up at him, tilting his head on one side; then, when Ezequiel gestured for him to go, he took off after the others - carrying with him a rolled-up piece of paper, tied to his neck with a shoestring.

***

Aside from one memorable night in Oaxaca - there had been a bit of a brawl in a cantina, and he and Héctor just hadn’t been quick enough to get away before he police got there - Ernesto had never been in a prison cell before.

Back on Oaxaca, it hadn’t been too bad; Héctor had been there to laugh it off with him, and mock him on how lucky he’d been that the police had burst in before a very angry guy with a broken bottle could do something drastic to his ‘pretty, pretty face’. They’d been brought into the cell snickering like idiots, and they had walked out still snickering the next morning. One more funny story to tell once they returned home, rich and famous.

But neither had ever returned home alive, only one of them had gone on to become rich and famous, and now - as he left the cell he had spent the previous week in before word came that all paperwork had been processed and he was to be released - Ernesto was alone and silent.

He’d been lucky, he supposed: the agents had put him in a van after he’d been handed over to them, and taken him straight to the police station. He’d had to face no crowd nor jeers, not coming in nor getting out. It seemed his capture and release had been kept under wraps, and it was a relief. It would become known eventually, but by the he’d be hiding away. Of course, not everyone was happy about it.

“If it were up to me, you’d have stayed to rot in there until your Final Death,” one of the guards had muttered, watching him leave. But it was never up to him, and Héctor had kept his word to drop all charges. There would be no trial, no nothing. His possession had already been taken to repay the Riveras for the theft of Héctor’s songs and the resulting loss of revenue - of course, he was already aware of that - but no further action would be taken against him.

That hardly made a difference, of course, no matter what that insufferable sap may think. As he moved quickly towards Shantytown - because where else could he go? - with the hood up to hide his face, he knew he would still have to hide for the rest of his afterlife… but now he had a way to cut it drastically short, if anything.

Now that he was no longer wanted he could cross over the bridge in a year’s time without risking arrest, and staying on the other side past dawn was all that it would take - whether or not he was remembered. Maybe it wouldn’t even hurt. And even if there was something else past the Final Death, it couldn’t be worse than the hell he’d made for himself there. It would be a relief; it certainly was a relief right now, to think that the end was within sight.

He needed to keep going for just another year, only one more year. And if he tried his best to stay drunk as much as possible throughout it, maybe it would pass quickly eno--

“Yip! Yip!”

A familiar chorus of yaps caused Ernesto to recoil, snapping him from his morbid thoughts. He turned the way he’d come and sure enough there they were - his alebrijes, clambering down the wooden steps leading to Shantytown. He blinked, taken aback.

“I had told you to stay with him, not to run off,” he said, and he tried to sound angry about it, he really did. Granted, the fact he was kneeling a moment later and letting them jump up to lick his face didn’t help his Angry Act very much. Neither did the laugh that left him a moment later, when he reached to pick them all up and hold them to his chest. A paw or two jabbed against his damaged ribs, and he found he didn’t even mind the sting.

He opened his mouth to say something - likely a string of mushy nonsense and praise, to hell with the Angry Act - but paused when his gaze fell on Diablo. Tied to his neck, there was a rolled-up piece of paper. He knew, right away, who it was from.

You didn’t run off at all, did you? Of course not. Spirit guides, but also messengers. I see what you did there, niño.

Ernesto pulled the piece of paper free and unrolled it, holding it up so that the dogs couldn’t try to nip it, and found himself looking at what was without a doubt the handwriting of a child. It wasn’t a long message, but Ernesto went over it several times in the dimming light, and paused on the last few words most of all.

Write back. Send Diablo. The others will stay with you.

Slowly, Ernesto de la Cruz stood, still staring at the letter. His gaze fell on the signature - Ezequiel - and he brushed a thumb over it. It was a quick scribble, a contrast to the neat handwriting in the rest of the letter, but there was a loop on the E that reminded Ernesto of what his autographs used to look like, back when he signed thousands at a time until his wrist hurt.

No one had asked his autograph in years, but now someone was asking for a letter,  and he supposed that was as close as it would ever get. There had been a time when he’d received thousands of letters, too many to even begin replying to any, but that was gone, too. Now there was only one letter… and plenty of time to reply, if so he chose.

Write back.

Well, may as well. He had no other commitments until the following year, after all.

He just needed to find pen and paper.

***

After getting a blessing for Socorro out of him, Héctor had thought he would never again find himself needing something from Ernesto. Apparently, he had been wrong. Ezequiel was well, settling in just great, but now it turned out that to make things entirely official, and legal, they needed his signature.

“He is the boy’s next of kin,” the clerk had explained, almost apologetically. “It’s the rule - for you to have legal custody of the minor he needs to forfeit it first, or this goes to court.”

“This is ridiculous. He’s a murderer, and tried to kill a living child,” Imelda had pointed out, her voice sharp, and the clerk had instinctively pulled the computer closer to himself to keep it safe. “And last time we saw him, he reeked of alcohol from a mile away. Are you telling me anybody would be insane enough to consider him fit to look after a child?”

“Well… no, if he were convicted, but the thing is that all charges were dropped,” the clerk had said, and Héctor had barely held back a sudden urge to groan and slam his skull down on the desk. Why was it that every time he tried to do the right thing it just turned around to bit him in the tailbone?

“All right,” he’d muttered, reaching up to rub his forehead instead. “Right, right, right. Is there a form or something he needs to sign to forfeit all rights to custody?”

“Oh, yes. Here it is.”

“And if I get him to sign it, that’s it, right?”

“Pretty much. A signature here, one here, another one here, and it’s done,” the clerk had explained, pointing at several blank lines across a few papers written densely in strict bureaucrat-ese. “If he doesn’t, it will need to go to court. We’d have already taken care of it ourselves, we have no idea where he is. No fixed address or anything.”

Héctor had taken the form, stared at it for a moment, and then exchanged a glance with Imelda. He knew that they were both thinking the same thing: there was one place, and one place only, that came to their mind when asking themselves where he may have gone back to hide from sight.

“We might know where to find him,” Imelda had finally said slowly, then, “I suspect that if I have to see him again, he may find himself unable to sign anything. I’d rather not break another shoe on him, either. You go and get him to sign that, I don’t care how. But Pepita will come with you.”

It had been a fair compromise, and Héctor had gone to Shantytown with Pepita - although he instructed her to stay at the outskirts, within earshot should he call out but far enough not to be too threatening. He wasn’t there to scare the crap out of Ernesto, after all, tempting as it may be. He needed a signature - three, really - and that was all he would focus on.

Much like last time he’d been there, seven years earlier, finding him was easy: he was the only person there. Héctor spotted him from a distance, leaning on a fence someone had built over a section of the pier, staring down at the water with a bottle in his hand. He was wearing a dark coat, a hat and what looked a lot like an old scarf, likely to avoid being recognized... but the three Chihuahua alebrijes playing and tumbling together only a few feet from him were a dead giveaway.

So they had returned to him, as Cheque had guessed when they’d wondered why only one of them had stayed in the house with them. As he stepped closer, they spotted him and froze. They didn’t snarl, but they were clearly on alert, and one of them gave a sudden, warning bark that caused Ernesto to turn. He blinked at him, alarm turning into confusion and then into a wary look.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice cautious. His eyes scanned their surroundings, and Héctor was suddenly very glad he had opted to leave Pepita out of sight.

“I need an autograph,” he replied, trying to make light of the situation. That gained him an unimpressed look, but at least it did seem to reassure Ernesto that he wasn’t there to make a xylophone out of his bones. Speaking of which… “How are you ribs?”

“Could be worse,” Ernesto said, his tone still slightly guarded, but he did take a swig from the bottle before turning back to the canal, and Héctor decided to take it as permission to get closer. He went to lean on the fence as well, a few feet away from him. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Héctor glanced back at the alebrijes, looking for a neutral subject.

“How can you tell them apart? They’re identical,” he muttered, gaining himself a look that was nothing short of offended.

“No, they’re not!”

“Sure, if you say so.”

“They are completely different! If you look at Clara’s markings compared to--”

“All right, all right! Sorry!” Héctor replied, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. Ernesto turned away with a scoff, and there were a few moments of silence before Héctor dared speak again. “Ezequiel is doing very well,” he finally said. “We started to show him the ropes in the workshop, and he seems to like it. He has a thing for chemistry, which might be worrying news, but it can’t get worse than my brothers in law’s experimenting. Did you know he’s got some really good sleights of hand to show? He wanted to be a magician when he grew up. Well, he can still a be a magician, even if he won’t grow up. Óscar and Felipe almost went crazy trying to figure out the one with the string and the coin.”

Ernesto shrugged, taking another swig from the bottle - it was strong stuff, by the smell of it - before he spoke. “When?”

“Last week. In the end they figured--”

“Allow me to make myself clearer. When did I ask?”

That caused Héctor to frown with a pang of annoyance. “Oh, so sorry for thinking you might like to know. Being family and all.”

“I am no one’s family,” Ernesto said flatly.

The world will be our family. The distant memory of what his childhood friend used to say - often after a rough day in his household, with a stubborn look that challenged anyone else to say otherwise - made it back to Héctor’s mind for a moment, and the annoyance turned into a sort of sadness he couldn’t quite place.

The World Es Mi Familia. It used to be one of your favorites. I had written it for you.

Forcing himself to ignore the pang of nostalgia, Héctor shrugged. “Well, legally speaking, you are. Did you think taking a kid in would be anything short of a bureaucratic nightmare? Think again,” he added, and that got a sound out of Ernesto that resembled a chuckle.

“Heh. True enough,” he muttered, and held out the bottle. “Want a dri-- ow!” he let out a yelp when Héctor acted out without thinking, slapping the bottle out of his hand like he’d been handed a grenade. The bottle fell on the ground and then rolled into the water; Ernesto watched it sink before giving him an unimpressed look. “... Really now?”

Héctor blinked at him, suddenly feeling rather stupid. He lowered his hand slowly, and reached to rub his arm. “Uh. Sorry. It’s that last time you offered me a drink. Well. You know.”

Ernesto blinked back, then his gaze flickered to the spot where the bottle had sunk and, unless Héctor’s eyes were playing tricks on him, he actually had the good grace to look somewhat awkward. He turned away, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Right. That,” he muttered.

“Yeah. That,” Héctor repeated. There were a few moments of silence, both of them staring at the water, before Héctor heard himself speaking. “... Were you ever sorry at all?” he asked, and he only realized how much he needed to know it as the words left his mouth. He glanced at Ernesto, half-expecting a scoff, but there was no such thing. Ernesto was resting his elbows on the fence, staring down at the water, and his shoulder rose and fell in a silent sigh.

“I sure am sorry now, since it got me in this dump, but I’m guessing that's not what you mean,” he muttered, then, “Before, I was... sorry it had to come to it. I never wanted to do it.”

Oh no, not that again. “It didn’t have to come to--”

“I am aware,” Ernesto cut him off, his voice still flat. Under Héctor’s silent gaze, he reached to rub his forehead as though to try getting rid of a headache. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

“You don’t know.”

“It’s the only honest answer I can give you at this point. Take it or leave it.”

And Héctor did take it, because it was better than a ‘no’ and certainly more sincere than a ‘yes’ would have been. He nodded. “I understand,” he said.

“Lucky you,” was the dry reply. “Is that all you were here to ask?”

I wish, Héctor thought. “No,” he replied, and took the papers out of his pocket. He unfolded them, and handed them to Ernesto. “I mentioned the bureaucracy issue, right? And needing an autograph? Well, you need to sort of… sign off your rights to Cheque’s custody.”

That caused Ernesto to turn back to him, blinking. “Are they serious?”

“Well, we did drop the charges. If you don’t sign, it will have to go to court and--”

“I was filmed throwing a living child to his death.”

“Believe me, I know. I was there. Still, bureaucracy,” Héctor repeated with a shrug, holding out the papers. Ernesto took them, and began reading. It didn’t take long for him to pause.

“... Rosita? Who's that?”

“My son in law's sister. We’ll all look after him, but we needed to pick one of us as the legal guardian. No one was going to fight Rosita over it and, well, Cheque likes her a lot. She dotes on that kid,” he added, but Ernesto was no longer listening.

“Legal guardianship,” he read on. “Not adoption. Not good enough for your precious family?”

Héctor blinked. “Wha-- no! None of us thinks that. We meant to adopt him, but it’s… complicated, especially with still living relatives that will die at some point. Plus, he was adamant on keeping his surname. So that his mother can find him once she dies, if she looks for him,” he added, and he was unable to keep some sadness out of his voice. The hopeful look on Ezequiel’s face when he’d brought that up had been almost painful to see; his Coco’s understanding one had been worse.

Ernesto gave him an odd glance. “What do you mean, if she looks for him? Why wouldn't--”

“Cheque hasn’t seen her since he was three. No idea if she even knows of his death.”

“Ah,” Ernesto muttered, and looked down at the papers again, reading on. His fingers traced the blank lines, and Héctor had just a moment to fear he wouldn't sign them after all before he sighed and held out his hand. “Got a pen? I don’t have one on me. Haven’t signed autographs in a while.”

“Huh? Oh. Sí, just a moment… where did I put it, where… wait, wait, wait… ah-ha! Found it!”

Ernesto rolled his eyes, but took the pen without commenting and quickly signed all the blank lines before handing the papers back to Héctor. “Here. Three autographs at the price of one,” he scoffed.

“Thanks. Uh… can I have the pen back?”

“What pen?” Ernesto said flatly, pocketing it.

“The one you just put in your pocket.”

“I did no such thing.”

Héctor opened his mouth to protest, then he thought better of it and just shrugged. “Well, whatever. I have better ones at home,” he informed him, folding the papers. He paused, not quite knowing what to do or say, and Ernesto entirely ignored his presence: he just rested his folded arms on the wooden fence and resumed looking down at the canal, saying nothing.

Well, he supposed that meant the conversation was over. He opened his mouth to say he should be on his way, but he never got to speak. A sudden chorus of barks and yaps caused him to wince and turn just on time to see a tiny Chihuahua alebrije running up to join the three that had been playing nearby, rolling and tumbling with them for a few moments before running up to Ernesto. There was something familiar about it, about that red collar it wore.

“Hey, isn't that the one Cheque keeps?” he asked, blinking, when the tiny alebrije ran to Ernesto and stood on its hind legs to greet him. “Why-- wait. What’s that around his neck?”

“Nothing,” Ernesto said quickly, snatching the rolled-up piece of paper from Diablo’s collar.

“Ernesto…”

“Nothing of your concer--"

“If Cheque is involved, it is my concern. It’s sort of a thing when it comes to family. Not that I’d expect you to understand,” Héctor cut him off, vehemently enough to make him fall silent for a few moments. His grip on the rolled-up sheet of paper tightened.

“He writes, sometimes. It was his idea,” he finally admitted. Thinking back of how often Diablo went missing from the household to roam, Héctor could easily guess it happened more often than just ‘sometimes’. And none of them had realized what was going on; the boy could be so sneaky it was almost hilarious.

“Heh. He’s a smart kid. And I assume you write back?”

Ernesto looked away, still holding the letter tight in his fist. It was as though he thought Héctor might try to take it from him any moment.  “... From time to time.”

Always, then. “We never suspected a thing.”

“You were not supposed to,” Ernesto said sourly.

Héctor remembered sitting down after a tiring performance to write to Coco before he fell asleep, usually with Ernesto already snoring away at the far end of the room. He’d poured his heart in those letters, not knowing just how much or for how long his daughter would treasure them, but hoping they would make her feel his love despite the distance between them. He highly doubted Ernesto’s own letters were quite like the ones he had written for Coco, of course, but if Cheque kept writing back they had to be important to him… and, if the look on Ernesto’s face was anything to go by, for Ernesto as well; maybe he needed that exchange more than his great-great-grandson did. Unlike him, he was alone.

It was a link, and one Héctor couldn’t in all conscience bring himself to break: he knew too much of broken bonds and the pains it took to mend them. Plus, he suspected that trying to do that would only make Cheque more likely to run off on them, and they’d rather avoid that.

“Us knowing will change nothing. We won’t keep Ezequiel from writing to you,” Héctor finally said. He would find a way to tell Imelda without triggering immediate retaliation against Ernesto - he would never hide a thing from her again, no matter how harmless - and they would sit with the boy, explain him he didn’t need to hide anything from them, either. He could rely on them, without fear of reprisal. The sooner he’d fully understand it, the better.

And after all, there was nothing inherently wrong about them staying in touch. If Ernesto had wanted to use the boy against them again… well, he could have simply refused to signs those papers, and hadn’t. Unaware of his thoughts, Ernesto was giving him a doubtful look.

“Am I supposed to believe you?”

“My word is all I can give. Take it or leave it,” Héctor replied, and put the papers in his pocket. His fingers touched something else he had stuck in there, and that he’d entirely forgotten about: an envelope stuffed full of money, coming mostly from some ninety years of missed royalties on his songs. It was a lot of money, much more than their family knew what to do with, especially with their shoe making business doing so well.

Héctor had given most of it for the people if Shantytown, along with de la Cruz’s mansion, but it still kept coming. He’d brought a good chunk of cash with him, just in case… well, in case Ernesto needed some convincing to sign those papers. It’d have felt an awful lot like he’d bought the child, even with the best intentions, so he was relieved it had not come to it.

Still, there was that money. And he didn’t want it. “Here. Take this.”

Ernesto blinked, staring down at the envelope Héctor had pushed in his hand. He opened it, and the confused look turned into one that was nothing short of stunned. “What is this?”

“Money, last time I looked. Unless Cheque did one of his tricks and turned it into feathers or something. It’s revenue from my-- from your movies. I don’t need it or want it.”

The stunned look turned into a frown. “It was to bribe me if I’d refused to sign, wasn’t it?”

Héctor saw now point in denying that. “An incentive,” he said, and Ernesto had the galls to look offended next, which got on his nerves a lot more than he’d expected.

“So you thought I would sell you the kid--”

“Why not? You took my life for much less.”

That made Ernesto pause, but just for a moment. “I need nothing from you,” he said, and Héctor’s left eye twitched a little. Of all things he could have said, that had to be it? Really?

“I wish you'd come to that conclusion a bit earlier. Say, about a century ago,” he retorted, and it did get him to shut up, recoiling slightly. Good, Héctor thought, and turned to walk away. “If you don't want that money, throw it into the canal. I don’t need it. Good luck.”

Had he turned back he would have seen Ernesto lifting a hand and taking a step before he paused, scowled, and lowered his arm. But he didn’t turn, and only heard him calling out.

“You owe me bottle,” he snapped, and Héctor scoffed without breaking his stride.

“With or without poison?” he asked aloud, refusing to turn. There was no reply, and he didn’t pause, didn’t even wonder if Ernesto had heard him at all. He was done there.

They were done.

***

[Narrator voice] They were not done.

***

[Back to Part 12]

[On to Part 14]

[kovacissues]

There’s No Way I’m Falling (Dejan fic) Chapter 3

A/N: Okay so I never write like this, but I hope the Last part of this chapter isn’t too cringe. I hope you enjoy.  - You can find the rest of my writing on this page!  Warning: Sexual language/Activities (Smut)

Chapter 3: Just go be with your boyfriend

*Noémie’s POV*

It had already been a week since she had last seen Dejan, but she didn’t really feel like that at all since she had have him visit her dreams almost every night. However, today she knew she would have to face him again. There was going to be a gala in town for the footballers and her boss had told her to be there, not to work, but to get an in with the players. Mimi, however, dreaded this as she knew she sucked at Smalltalk and honestly preferred having a couple of questions tailored to the person she was talking to.

“dress formal” her boss had told her before she left work that day. This had made her panic, she knew she had one formal outfit in her wardrobe. She wasn’t much of a girly girl.  Sure, she loved dresses, but only if they were somewhat down to earth, and makeup was her worst enemy. She couldn’t do a winged liner even if her life depended on it.

Grabbing the only long dress she had in her closet, she sighed as she knew today was a braless night. Of course, she was all about freeing the nipples, but she felt somewhat uncomfortable about her own breasts. What if Dejan is there and he would think she was ugly, she thought to herself. Wait, no… fuck what he thinks. She put on the black tightfitting dress and a couple of sky high heels that she had worn when joining Sergi to some Barcelona gig once.

She did her makeup classy and simple, her take on a smoky eye and a devil red lipstick. When saying smoky eye, in reality she felt like it kinda made her look like a racoon, but who cares? She liked it that way. The only thing she actually knew how to put on was her highlighter and as always, it was on point. To top the entire look off she went with a Meghan Markle inspired messy bun. Mimi wasn’t the type of girl to spend long in front of a mirror, but damn she loved her look, and hopefully at least one guy would want to take her home… she was long overdue for some fun in the bed.

---

“Come on Noé… you’ll love my buddies” Stephen, one of her coworkers, tried to persuade her to meet some footballers he knew very well from parties and press gigs. Stephen was actually one of the better-looking guys she had met in England. He was 10 years older than her but he was so handsome, with dark blonde hair and green eyes and a body to die for. She only liked him as a friend though, he was like her mentor.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she realized just who his friends were, Mo Salah and a couple of other Liverpool players stood there all in suits. “The journalist girl!” Salah exclaimed in an excited tone. “you look stunning, Naomi” he added with a grin. Oh my god! Had Dejan called her that on purpose!?

Stephen chuckled a little before he introduced her officially to his friends. “This is Noémie, you can probably call her Mimi or Noé if you want though” he began and all the guys said hi to her “She’s Spanish by the way, so bear with her if the communication isn’t going perfect”. After he had stated that she playfully hit his arm and all the guys laughed.

“Your girlfriend is very charming” one guy, who she later found out was Loris Karius, said, causing Mimi to almost choke on her wine. Before she or Stephen even got a word out to defend their friendship, she heard someone behind her say “oh” and she turned around and saw Dejan stand there looking like a lost puppy. Was he upset?

“Dejan! I haven’t gotten the chance to thank you for those flowers, how could you possibly know they were my favorite?” Mimi smiled at him, but realized that he was upset. “Wait, what’s wrong?” she then asked with a worried look on her face. It killed her seeing him like that, even though she hardly knew this man.

“Just go be with your boyfriend” he said sharply to her and chugged the glass of wine he was holding. Was he… jealous? All she wanted to do was to explain how it all was a misunderstanding, but she was to slow as he had already pushed past her and walked over to another group of people. It took all the power in the world not to go after him, she felt like her heart broke watching him walk away.

She turned to the group again, feeling the tears trying to escape her eyes. “We’re not together okay? We’re just good friends and coworkers” she explained to the men, and for some reason she kept her eyes locked with Salah’s. Deep down she probably knew that he was the easiest way to Dejan. She had to admit to herself that she wished Dejan was single and that she would have a shot. Wished that she would get to know him better.

---

Some hours later Mimi had talked to virtually everyone and gotten the number of quite a few guys. However, none of those guys mattered. In her desperate search for food she had lost Stephen and she was all alone. There were hundreds of people around her so she realized finding him would be close to uncomfortable. Being short also didn’t help her a lot since it made her disappear in the crowd. She felt a couple of tears fall down her face and a panic attack coming, she hadn’t experienced that for years but it all crashed in her head. She was all alone far away from “Home” far away from Spain.

She was soon sitting in a corner by herself crying like a baby, hoping nobody saw her. All those hopes disappeared when she felt someone sit next to her and touch her shoulder. “Are you okay Noémie?” Her head shot up when she heard HIS voice.

“Dejan…” she barely managed to say through the tears, her eyes scanning the man sitting next to her. “I’m just.. cómo se dice… homesick” He sat closer and held around her after she said that. She leaned her head onto his chest and he started stroking her arm to calm her down.

“I know how you feel” he eventually confessed. “When I first left Croatia I would cry so much because I felt so small and alone.. but I had Anita, my wife. Not that she was the best help in the world, but at least I wasn’t alone… and you have Stephen, I am sure he must make you feel less alone”. By now he was just rambling, trying to make her feel better.

She laughed a little “Stephen? Do you really think? We’re not… he’s not my boyfriend”. At least her tears were gone now, because the look on Dejan’s face was all that she had wished to see in her life. He looked like a mix of worry, shock and… was that… happiness? “Are you smiling Lovren?” she asked and grinned a little bit at him.

“Maybe I am” He said and leaned in closer to her “My marriage… it’s bad… I mean… I am basically single… I promise” he stuttered, and she blushed a little. Their eyes met and the only thing Mimi could think was “Kiss me you idiot”. He was so close to her and they could feel each other’s breath on their mouths.

“WHOOO GO DEJAAAAAN!” their heads snapped away from each other as they looked up at Mo Salah.

“hijo de puta” Mimi said under her breath after the Egyptian ruined their chance of kissing. She looked over at Dejan who groaned and threw the first thing he could grab after his friend.

“By all means, go back to what you were doing... use a condom!” Salah advised before running away, scared of getting hit with something harder.

“Where were we?” Dejan asked when they finally were alone again, turning towards Mimi.

“Just kiss me already” Mimi answered, and he obliged. Oh my, those lips were so soft, he really knew what he was doing. When their lips parted she looked at his face and smiled before she suddenly stood up. “let’s get out of here” where did she get this confidence from?

Dejan followed her out of the venue and she turned to him exclaiming “I’m craving Nuggets!” when they got on the street. He chuckled and looked at her “That was not where I thought this was going”. Mimi just laughed and grabbed his hand. “well we need some calories to burn off later” she said with a wink as they walked into a McDonalds.

---

While eating she had discovered that Dejan and her had a lot in common. For instance, they both preferred staying inside watching movies over going to parties. They both liked Disney movies too, she figured he must’ve seen most of them because of his kids, while she had seen them because she was younger. They also had an unhealthy relationship to junkfood, both having a weakness for McDonalds.

When they reached Mimi’s apartment they wasted no time in starting to undress each other while kissing passionately. When her dress fell down at the floor, Dejan stepped back and looked at her. She panicked a little at how quiet he suddenly became, was it her breasts? Did he regret his choice?

“You’re so damn beautiful” he eventually stated and she looked at him and saw a huge smile on his face. She didn’t know what to answer him, so she just took his hand and guided him to her bedroom. When they got there he pushed her to the bed before taking off his shirt and crawl ontop of her. He flipped them over so she was ontop before resuming to kissing her. Mimi didn’t even think, she craved the footballer so badly.

She grinded onto him and she could hear a small moan escape his mouth, she took this as a sign to continue as she moved her lips to his jaw and kissed slowly from the jaw down his neck. When getting to his chest she looked up at him as she started to take off his pants, and saw him meet her eyes with a huge smile. “I need to taste you” she said and bit her lip seductively. He helped her get the pants off and took of the boxers in a quick motion and Mimi’s eyes grew when she saw him.

He just grinned looking at her expression, but that grin quickly became a moan when she started stroking him slowly. She positioned herself and took the tip of his cock into her mouth while looking him straight into his eyes. Slowly she took more and more of him until she couldn’t fit more. Just then she felt one of his hands grabbing her hair as she picked up the pace.

“I’m… I’m.. so close” as soon as he said that she stopped and moved up to his face and kissed him. He looked so frustrated and she just grinned. “not yet” she said quietly in between kissing him. “You gotta please me first” she teased and laid down on the bed next to him, hinting for him to repay the favor.

He rolled over and cupped one of her boobs in his hand while slowly licking the nipple of the other. Noémie let out a moan but quickly bit her lip to quiet herself a little bit. Dejan noticed her trying to be quiet so he playfully bit her nipple to try making her be a little loud. “Oh my! Dejan!” she screamed as he grinned. He gave the same attention to the other boob before kissing down her body and took off her underwear. She had never wanted someone as much as she wanted Dejan right now, and seeing his smirk as he slowly rubbed her pussy giving extra attention to the clitoris just made her crave him so much more. She was breathing heavily when he suddenly stopped which made her look like a deer in headlights. “I bet I can make you cum using only my dick and fingers” he teased.

“I bet you can’t” she stated, knowing very well that she had not once had a man who knew how to satisfy her. “Oh well… loser makes breakfast” he shrugged and moved up to kiss her. “I like my eggs soft boiled” she said with a wink and he rolled his eyes. Without saying a word he put on a condom and kissed her before slowly entering her making them both moan.

After ten minutes of rough and fastpaced sex, he suddenly slowed down which made Mimi go insane. It felt so good and she wanted more, she wanted him to make her scream. He obviously must have seen her desperation as he slowly started rubbing her clit while slowly thrusting in and out of her. She did not want to admit it, but she was nearing a climax. It was as if he could read her mind because just then he went faster and harder, matching the movement with his fingers while starting to kiss her neck. Fuck… no… he could not win this! “OOHHH!” she couldn’t keep it in anymore and she came, hard. Just after he had mouthed “I win” to her he also came and his eyes widened and he looked at her “I think maybe the condom broke…”

Mimi’s heart stopped for a second before she pushed him off and ran towards the bathroom. She cleaned herself up and got back to the bed. “don’t worry, I’m on the pill” she reassured him before kissing his cheek. “You want to stay the night?” she then asked to which he laughed.

“You owe me a breakfast so I might as well” he answered and pulled her close. “Goodnight… Hermosa..?” he said and kissed her head. “Goodnight” she replied and closed her eyes, smiling wide.

[maddie-grove]

Little Book Review: The Year We Left Home

Author: Jean Thompson.

Publication Date: 2011.

Genre: Literary fiction.

Premise: The Ericksons, a sedate family in small-town Iowa, make their way from the 1970s to the early 2000s. Eldest child Anita struggles with the conventional life she thought she wanted, second-eldest Ryan goes out into the world, second-youngest Blake stays put, youngest Torrie finds an alternative path, and troubled Vietnam vet Cousin Chip/Ray drifts around.

Thoughts: Last summer, I greatly enjoyed Thompson's mordant short story collection, The Witch. I wasn't particularly interested in the premise of this novel. However, it was the only Thompson book readily available to me. Although the book has some good writing, I was right not to be intrigued. The tone is the polar opposite of The Witch; instead of delicious bitterness and cruel irony, there's a gentle, earnest exploration of the lives of Iowans. There's nothing wrong with gentleness, earnestness, or Iowans, but I so wasn't in the mood.

Less subjectively, the novel is overstuffed. Besides the siblings and cousins, we have chapters from the mom and a grandkid. Some narrators get more chapters than others; Ryan, Chip, and Anita predominate. The narrative marches forward in time, slowly and steadily. Sometimes, an interesting situation comes up: Anita's disagreements with her banker husband over the farm crisis, Chip/Ray's deteriorating mental state, Torrie's career as an outsider artist. Thompson moves on all too soon, though, and then you're stuck hearing about Ryan's tech career or Blake's Star Trek opinions. Wilton Barnhardt did a similar thing better in Lookaway, Lookaway, another saga about a family with four kids, two parents, and various aunts, uncles, in-laws, and friends. There, each family member is limited to one chapter, resulting in a much tighter book. Also, the characters in that novel do exciting things like extort people or attempt murder during Thanksgiving dinner.

Going back to the subjective: Ryan is just a total pill for the first half of the book. He's super-judgmental of women--his sister Anita, his well-meaning mom, his artsy college girlfriend, the insecure undergrad student that he considers sleeping with--and he has no idea that he's being such a dick. He's actually more likable when he becomes a computer guy and cheats on his wife later in life. At least he seems to like his wife and his girlfriend pretty well as people. It's okay that he kind of sucks, but it's really annoying being in his head so often in the 1970s.

Hot Goodreads Take: "I think it does fall in the 'beach read' category," says the writer of a two-star review. Yeah, if the beach was in New Jersey. In November.

[mrskandiibaby2269]

For Old Times Sake Pt.4-6

For Old Times Sake Pt4 So here we are yet again On the phone Wondering what's about to happen Passing nervous small talk Like before Wyd Oh same old same old Watching Martin and sucking on A blow pop Oh for real that's wassup Whatcha got on Laughing out loud really Really what We gon do this again I told you we got to So stop playing girl I'm not saying Please Why fool Because you know you wanna Tell me and plus I wanna know What's covering that sexy body It needs to come off I'll tell you but it's not coming off Yeah ok under your breathe What you say nothing just tell me What you wearing I'm wearing my blue shorts With a black crop top Mmmm damn that sounds good Send me a pic Ok tease you and send a gag text "Use yo imagination" Man come on boo stop playin Send me a pic of what you got on I wanna see and I ain't gon lie I wanna have some more fun Sent the image And your response is Three emojis with kissy face Once again we here go With that smooth fuckin' voice Of yours Making me clinch my thighs Together getting a lil' wetter I must resist but then again I can't Damn you sound so good right now Your voice sounds sexy too I miss you Close your eyes and sit down Let me move your hair to other Side of your neck and slowly Kiss you kiss your cheek then Your neck While you softly let out a moan Mmm You so tense you need a massage Rub your shoulders from behind And continue to kiss your body While you moan again Got the candles burning Music in the background I'm in the mood for a lil Joe "*music fade in* 🎶Hey love you say you need some one to be there for you to love you all night long🎶." 🎶Kinda funny but, I don't think you have to look no further because I'm right here and I'm ready to do all the things your man wouldn't do. Tell me what kind of man would treat his woman so cold, treat you like you're nothing when you're worth more than gold...🎶 I can picture us on the beach when The sun is setting After getting your body all relaxed Like it's suppose to be Flip you over and get on top Kissing you from your lips Your neck Mmmm Left Mmm To right Ahh mmm To Your breast Unclipping your bra Licking your nipples Mnmmm damn Nibbling on them just a lil' bit Shit You like that ? Hell yeah Kissing and licking your sides And your stomach Inserting one finger in you Rubbing your clit nice and slow 🎶All the things your man won't do, I'll do them for you...🎶 Ahhhh mmm ohhh Just relax baby, let me take your stress away You don't have to.. But, I want to Now I got two fingers in and deep I'm leaning my head back and Biting my lip twirling my hips To match the sync and rhythm Of your movement Boi you betta stop Or what Or you gonna get some shit started Whatcha tryna do? Shit let's go Shidd, I'm tryna to eat you out You looking so sexy like a tropical Goddess in you two piece Bikini You body glisten and shining When the sun hits you just right Lemme open your legs Kiss my way down Mmmm ooouuu Taste so sweet like candy and Pineapples 🎶Nothing can be sweeter than the sound of making love. Baby when I start I just can't stop🎶 🎶Baby. I wanna do. All of. The things your man won't do. I'll do them for you🎶 Shit_________ that feels good I know baby mmm 💦💦💦 ________ damn you taste so fuckin' Good Gimme more stop tryna run away I'ma be defiant and run any way Ok pull you closer to my tongue And lock my arms down on your Thighs now you can't go no where Now let's take this to the Hotel room You got me feeling some type of way You got me saying 🎶My, my, my, my, my, my, sure look good tonight 🎶 Ooh no you didn't got some Johnny Gill playing what you Know about that song I know a lot let me show you Kissing you so passionately You picking me up And we fall on the bed Rolling on top of each other Untying your hair and let it fall Brushing it out of your face Kissing you once again Letting my tongue trace The places where I left off Mmmm your lips are so soft Mmmm thank you mmm mmm Damn _____ 🎶I wanna show you things that you never never ever seen before. Put your night gown on, let your hair hang low step in our room. I'm in the mood to love you all night long🎶 My, my, my ________ All of sudden you flip me over Pin my arms down And kiss me on my lips Shit the sweet hint of your lips Got me secretly and low key Fallin' In love with you all over again Damn got me thinking what have I been missing out on Go ahead mamácita take control I mean damn it, got me hard as Fuck. Got me ready to fuck the Shit out cha but I'ma take it as Slow as you want it It's ok baby let's follow each other's Pace this time tonight Shit I'm down you ready Ready Set Both of us biting of our lips I'm getting wet and I'm getting hard with anticipation Go Both sets of our clothes Thrown and hitting the floor Kissing you here You kissing me there Getting on top Rocking back and forth On your boat loving Your motion In my sweet ocean damn nicca Got me over flowing Making angry sexy sex faces Scratching up each other's backs I'm going so deep inside of you Making me a sexy pouty face Bending you over on all fours Arching my back so perfect Griping on your hair Gently massaging your back While I'm hitting your soaking pussy Oooh shit yassss________ right there You like that? Hell yeah don't stop Say my name baby _______ mmmmm ohhh ________ Mmm fuck yea Don't stop baby keep doing What you do Shit daddy you making so fuckin Wet ooouuu .... To be continued ... Pt.5 Oooh damn ohh damn Ahhh fuck shit Got damn it The climax of the music Got us climaxing too But keep going though 🎶Here comes my darling. Here comes romance. Here comes my love will you dance with me baby. Pretty Brown Eyes🎶 Damn they so beautiful When you look at me deep Now here I go going deep You bending flipping your hair Back looking up to the ceiling While I'm holding your body tight Got damn riding me so right Don't stop baby shit don't stop I'm not daddy don't stop going Deep deep deeper deeper inside Me I got you mommy _________ fuck your pussy feel So good Ahhhh dick is amazing__________ Shhit Yeah baby there you go Take this dick Fuck you got me gripping the Sheets And you got me toes curling mamí Bodies tumbling and turning Round and round like clothes At a laundromat Girl you keep being bad I'ma smack that ass Go ahead you ain't bout that life Ohh I'm not ok Ahhhhh Smacked yo ass so hard Left a hand print It's cool tho daddy cause I love it Rough the rougher the better Bring it come on Don't slow down now Got damn I feel you sweetness Flowing down on my dick Damn baby I'm loving How nasty you is with it Watching our reflection in the Mirrors turning us on even more Got damn it leave before our Lips damn we sore But fuck it We fuckin so mothafuckin' good We in the mood for an encore So dear reader if you are intrigued And interested I got you please believe me Pt6 is a real panty wetter You prolly sweating getting hot and what not So here's what we gonna do and Get straight to it and get it done We gon Take a quick intermission Go get some ice cool off for a bit come back and have some real fun ....... Welcome back hope you ready For some naughty turns and tricks Let's go already and get into Pt. Mothafuckin' 6...... 🎶she said she want some Marvin Gaye, some Luther Vandross, a little Anita we'll definitely set this party off right. She said she want some Ready For The World some New Edition. Some Minnie Rippleton we'll definitely set this party off right yes we will🎶 Do it faster baby I need it faster baby Please daddy please I got you mamí Get ready cause here we go Ahhh shit Yes yes yasss yassss beat this Pussy up Like the bedroom bully you is Yeah girl that's right girl Take this dick there you go Now I'ma put you against the wall I want you to do a spilt Ready ? Yass I can't hear you I said are you ready Yass You are ready Hell yea Hell yea fuckin right Shit it's make no sense How wet you is Lips smacking and juicier than Juicyfruit Haa I know right Now lay yo fuckin back Ima jump up and do a spilt on yo Dick like Thisssss...... Oohhhh ahhhh Shit Mmmmm ahhh Bouncing on you harder and harder Griping yo hips smacking yo ass Leaving hickeys on yo neck And I'm leaving em on you titties Ohh fuck this you ain't bout To make me tap Flip yo sexy ass over Back on top Rocking the bed More than bedrock Ooouuu shit yasss 🎶ooouuu I can make yo bed rock ooouuu I can make yo bedrock girl I can make you bedrock ooouuu I can make yo bedrock🎶 You loving this dick, huh? Hell yea I see you lovin yourself This sweet pussy too Damn sure is You want me to stop Girl you better not stop till you cum I ain't ready yet so ha good luck Going at it like fight night In a boxing ring Boi you know you can't handle me I got this special technique Something like a 69 But instead you won't be able to Eat me this time cause I got you Tied up and you didn't even know Hope you ready cause I bet you Ain't seen this coming tho I might be thick but I can do a Back bend I can bend all the way back And insert yo dick my mouth I can do push ups too Let's calculate what this Equation come up to Me doing a back bend Sucking yo dick Me doing push-ups Upside down constantly Yeah nicca now I got yo legs Trembling and toes curlin' Got you cussin' and moanin' my Name _________ hell yea baby go ahead Yell it out It's ok boo just Scream and shout How good it feels How good I'm killin' it Suckin' and devouring yo soul Mmmm shit damn it Yea nicca that's what I'm talking Bout Let em know bout me word of mouth Should I untie you now Since that's your 3rd nut hmmm Idk I can untie myself And tie yo sexy ass up now Put yo legs in the air And have a pussy eating fest On you Damn________ it feels so good Just like it use to be Back in High school Yeah baby I told you I got you Ooouuu shit keep flicking yo Tongue like that Bout to make me squirter jet Wet wet all over the place That's what I'm talking bout baby Get wet I don't give a fuck If you splash all over my face Mmmm ahhhh shit mm ahhh Come on baby come on Let's go 3 for 3 I nut 3 times Now squirt 3 times for me Don't slow down now You ready ? Here we go Spinning my tongue like a AK On your pussy lips and your clit There you go tryna run again But you can't escape It's feeling some type of good to ya All saying is "ahhhh" Ahhhhh 🎶As I stand here contemplating On the right thing to decide will I take the wrong direction all my life ? Where will I go ? When life's ahead of me? 🎶 🎶I have strong determination and I'm not afraid of change I have yet to find that some one who has cared to satisfy me to stay right by me, oh, who can I run to to share this empty space ? Who I can run to when I need love ? Who can I run to fill this empty space with laughter? who I can run to? when I need love?🎶 Aghhh mmm Sweet kisses Setting our lustful bodies On Fire with blissful passion As we slow it down and make love Feeling some kind of good All we can say is Mmmmm Ahhh Our moans Taking over the room Our bodies take control As we groove to the classic jamz CD damn we having so much fun I don't want this to end Especially when I hear Jodeci Fading in next 🎶I'm lying here waiting for you Girl you can get it anytime you want it. Every moment is so sweet🎶 Boi I swear you don't know what these songs and our voice Is doing to me Oh I know I can hear how wet you are over there pussy just talking Damn don't stop tho baby Keep going let's keep it going Ring the bell time for the next Round You sure you not tired I'm positive I'm full of energy So stop stalling Let's go Aite Bring it But let's continue to slow it down As we lay here kissing and touching Bodies still in such smooth sync Mmm ahhh ooouuu Yea that's it baby Let's do something a lil different Let's role play Oohhh ok name some one you Always wanted to fuck Tyga Ok baby girl I'll be Tyga and you be A fan not a groupie I see you for the first time I ask you if I can take you out And I say yes you can One thing lead to another Yo shirt and my skirt hits the floor You kissing on my tattoos Mmmm damn "Tyga, Tyga, TRaww" 🎶 I ain't seeing nothing else my eyes closed tight On the living room couch one hand up my (uummm) putting fingers In my mouth cheating on my man I'm getting my freak on long as it ain't real I ain't doing nothing wrong just a dirty fantasy on the Football field me layed in the grass wanna love how it feel🎶 But I see us back stage in the dressing room No one around just you and me We was on the vanity against the Mirror now we on the floor Mmmm yasss "Tyga" make that Famous sound you do "Rawwr" Make me drip got me On the faucet wetness type of Flow Oohhh shit Here we go Put me in the air Bounce me up and down on You dick Like you just don't care Make it Nasty baby Ohhh yasss daddy I love to Make It Nasty just For you Don't forget when you bend me Over remember Don't worry I'ma pull your hair too Hold up hold up This freaky shit is just too good We gotta have another To Be Continued.... Pt.7 MrsKandiiBaby💋🍭👅💦😏😘😜

[mredlich21]

Last part!  Which is also frankly my favorite part because the Rajesh Khanna funeral was INSANE!!!!  Also, I really like Twinkle’s post-marriage life. (part 1 here and part 2 here)

First, my usual disclaimer so no one gets mad at me: Everything I am about to say may be true, or it may not be true.  I don’t know these people personally, I am just telling you what is the generally accepted “truth” about them, in case you are new to the films and hadn’t heard it before.

  In the first two parts, we went over Rajesh Khanna’s rise to be India’s first superstar, his surprise marriage to an untried teenager Dimple, Dimple’s leaving him and taking her kids and restarting her career, their respective post-marriage relationships (Rajesh with Tina Munim-going-to-be-Ambani, Dimple with Sunny Deol), and then the launch of their daughters, Twinkle and Rinke resulting in average careers and retirement and marriage for both daughters.  Twinkle married one of the top actors, and top playboys, in the industry, Akshay Kumar.  And she was the making of him, guiding him towards profitable and critically acclaimed roles, improving his career enormously post-marriage.  Which Akshay acknowledges.  Which makes him seem like a really great husband, even if he was a terrible boyfriend (secretly engaged to 3 woman at once and cheating on all of them with Rekha).

Post-marriage, Twinkle retired almost immediately and had their son and became a housewife/interior designer/writer.  “Interior design” is one of those things star wives like to do, Suzanne and Gauri are “interior designers” too.  I’m putting it in quotes not because I don’t believe they take it seriously, or even have made a success of it (with Gauri’s branching out into real estate development and everything else), but it’s definitely a kind of job you can only have if you are that kind of wife.  With the start up funds and the connections and the free time to focus on it.

What really impresses me about Twinkle is that she is all 3 of these things, and does all 3 of them well.  She is very very good at being a star wife/house wife.  She knows what to wear and where to go and who to be friends with.  And she makes it look easy and natural, not like she is trying to suck up to anyone.  And she is also a good interior designer.  She may not have the huge success that Gauri is enjoying right now, but she has her store and has had it for several years.  And finally, as a writer, she has had a column for several years and kept it up regularly.  Her first book, a collection of columns, was released a little bit ago.  And her second book, a collection of sort of human interest sketches, just came out.  I haven’t read the new one yet, but I read her first book and highly highly recommend it!  It’s a fun and easy read, she has a charming voice in it, and it’s a really fun inner look at life in a superstar’s house.  I am sure she wouldn’t have been offered the original column if she hadn’t been Akshay’s wife/Rajesh’s daughter/Dimple’s daughter, but after being given that first chance, she has succeeded on her own merit as a writer.

(Highly recommended!)

Oh, and she also made Akshay’s career!  He credits her with helping him focus and work better, and it’s certainly true that the years after their marriage were very very good for him.  And more recently, he credits her with reviving his artistic merit, because she straight up told him she wouldn’t have a second child unless he stopped making rubbish movies.  I believe that it is good for Akshay to have someone who tells him the truth and is upfront with him in general, this is a big advantage of having a wife.  And I also believe that Twinkle is very smart and insightful just on her own (like I said, I really liked her book).  But I can’t help thinking about Twinkle growing up watching her father make those producers wait, watching her mother successfully get her second innings in the industry, even watching her “Chote Papa” navigate his launch.  She’s got way more knowledge and training in how to build a career that lasts than Akshay ever could have.  That’s the difference between a sort of insider-outsider like Akshay (right schools, right neighborhood, right friends), and a real insider like Twinkle (grew up with 90% of the people working in the industry today).

(Love her and Karan together. That’s why Rani’s character was named “Tina” in KKHH, it was supposed to be played by Twinkle)

My favorite thing about the Twinkle and Akshay relationship is how AWESOME Akshay is as a son-in-law!  This all female family had been struggling along for years, and now suddenly there he is!  Escorting Dimple at every event, joking with her, taking care of her, and seeming to sincerely enjoy all of it!  I also, by the way, love the little glimpses we get of how Twinkle and Dimple get along in her writings.  While Akshay is enthusiastic and interested in everything, Twinkle is a bit more sarcastic and irritated with Dimple’s sudden impulses and constant optimism.  Kind of reminds me of the stories that are coming out about Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds.  I would love it if someday Twinkle writes her own Postcards From the Edge book!

(here’s Akshay joking with Dimple while Twinkle laughs at them.  And Aamir is there too for some reason.  It’s Twinkle’s book launch, maybe she pulled on those “I’ve known you since we were in diapers” connections)

Akshay, supposedly, also settled down.  Likes to avoid location work, to be at the studio at 9 and out by 5, to be home and in his own bed before ten and up to have breakfast with his kids.  But there are, very occasionally, still rumors about his little flings with his co-stars.  Priyanka, Katrina, Sonakshi.

When rumors are this consistent, I either don’t believe any of them or believe all of them.  With Akshay, I’m not sure which way to go.  It could just be that he is a supportive and friendly co-star, and so it appears that he is having an affair with everyone he works with, but really he is just being nice.  Or he could actually be having an affair with every co-star he works with.  However, if he is, I think it would be with Dimple’s awareness/permission.  Maybe it’s just the afterglow of their fabulous Koffee appearance, but really, all their public appearances feel the same way.  Not touchy and respectful and putting on a show for the media, but just kind of casual and natural and unrehearsed.  And, if nothing else, I’ve seen Twinkle’s old films!  She just isn’t that good of an actor!  So they must be happy in their marriage for real.

Before leaving Twinkle and Akshay, I want to take a moment for their kids.  They are very protective parents, there are few photos available of their son and almost none of their daughter.  But as their son gets older, they are slowly bringing him out more and more.  And I have to say, he looks EXACTLY like his grandfather!  Or maybe I’m imagining it, what do you think?

  Since I mentioned Rajesh, yaaay!  I finally get to talk about his funeral!  And, I guess, the slow decline that lead to it.  Rajesh’s film career was essentially over by the 90s.  He switched to politics at this point, and Dimple even campaigned for him.  Again, I am fascinated by how the lifelong marriage works!  Sure, they had been separated for years, and still were living separately, but he was also her husband and always in her life, and so she would campaign with him and appear together on his victory parade.  And, from the other side of things, sure Rajesh had had at least one other serious relationship post-marriage, but when it came time to appear in public, the only woman who would want by his side is his wife, forever.

That “forever” was true at the end as well.  It came fast, his end, the rumors started going around that he was sick, and suddenly Dimple had moved back into Aashirwad to take care of him, Twinkle and Rinke were in and out of the house too, we all got daily updates, and then he was gone.  But not before making a few final appearances to greet the crowds who were once again, after years away, massed outside his gates.

  Now, look at the timeline of these photos.  Akshay helps him out.  Akshay explains what is happening.  Akshay shows him how to wave.  Rajesh waves.  Akshay starts waving too, and Dimple backs up and tries not to cry.

You see why I love Akshay for this?  He is SUCH A GOOD SON-IN-LAW!!!!  And it’s not just that he showed up to help take care of his ailing father-in-law, anyone would do that.  It’s that he took charge of the public face of it too, used his own stardom powers and experience to give dignity to Rajesh and take some of the public scrutiny off of Dimple.

He couldn’t protect them from everything though.  Remember Anita Advani who I was a little mean about in the last section?  Yeah, there was a reason for that.  She had lived with and taken care of Rajesh for years.  But at the very end, he asked for his wife and daughters.  Dimple dropped everything and moved back into that house (which must have been all kinds of painful for her), and eventually so did Twinkle and Rinke.  Even Anju, his very first girlfriend (who never married after they broke up), came too, because he wanted her.  But Anita was quietly shut out.  And, after Rajesh died, she learned that he hadn’t even left her the house, the one thing he promised her.  He left everything to his daughters, and they did not want her there.

Okay, all of that kind of makes me sympathize with Anita.  But what kills all of that sympathy is that instead of trying to find some way of gently conveying her situation, homeless and having wasted 20 years of her life on a man who never really cared for her (sample memory: “When I would ask him if he slept with other women while he was on location, he would say ‘what does it matter, I come back to you, don’t I?'”), she went straight to the media.  And I mean STRAIGHT to the media!  Like within days of Rajesh’s death, while the family was no doubt still in shock with grief, suddenly there are stories everywhere about “Rajesh Khanna’s last love”.  And how Dimple was so cruel and heartless to her, how the whole family didn’t appreciate her feelings, how Rajesh really really loved her, not his horrible old wife.  I’m sure poor Dimple, having just lost her husband who, no matter what problems they had, was also the father of her two children and the man she married at age 15, having had this emotional rollercoaster of moving in and taking care of him, only to see him fade away, was not in any state to read a bunch of articles about how she was the villain in a soap opera, getting into a catfight and heartlessly throwing out the poor innocent heroine.  Anita even filed a lawsuit against them, including the random detail that she claimed her relationship with Rajesh started when she was only 13, and threatening to release photos and videos of “intimate moments”.  I just googled a little, and it looks like the lawsuit is still dragging on in various ways, and Anita is still popping up to offer quotes criticizing the family at the drop of a hat.

Let’s see, is that it for the Twinkle-Dimple-Akshay-Rajesh story?  I think so!  YAAAAY!  My reward!  I get to write about Rajesh’s funeral!

Rajesh supposedly left detailed specific instructions for how he wanted his last journey to go.  But really all he had to say was “I want to go out like freaking Snow White!”  The end result was, a funeral train the wound through Bombay, featuring Rajesh’s corpse in a glass coffin for all to see.

And they did!  “All” that is.  Thousands upon thousands of people turned out, whole streets had to be shut down.  In the end, the trip was cut short because the crowds were so large it was becoming a civic problem.  Let’s see if I can do this like it’s a crane shot pull back thing in a movie.  First, the close up on the front of the crowd, which is being driven back by policeman.

Then slightly farther back, so you can start to grasp the size of it.

And a little bit further

And a little bit further.  This is immediately outside the crematorium where Rajesh’s body was being taken.

  And, in case you thought I was exaggerating about the Snow White effect, here’s a close-up of his float, complete with the closest members of his family riding along.

(Notice the glass coffin that Dimple is trying to balance)

And again, by the way, I love Akshay!  He was right there, front and center the whole time, organizing this incredibly complicated send-off and taking the emotional weight so his wife and sister and mother-in-law could just focus on their grief.  Even handling the kids!  That’s Aarav next to him on the float.

  But you know what the biggest honor was for Rajesh?  Not all of this send-off and the pomp and the thousands who gathered.  No, it was the honor given him by possibly the only living person who could really understand what his life was like back in the day when he was king of films.

Amitabh goes to almost every funeral.  He seems to consider it part of his responsibility as the Biggest Superstar.  And, of course, he had to come for Rajesh’s funeral.  Not just the funeral, but the cremation as well, which was more of a family affair.

The photos I showed above of the parade, that was on the way to the crematorium.  Amitabh had to get there as well, with Abhishek to support him.  Only their car got caught in the crowd.  Here, have another group of photos.

The crowd realized who was arriving and swarmed the car:

The car couldn’t move and the crowd wouldn’t be beaten back.  In any other situation, the police would have forced an exit route and Amitabh would have been whisked away.  But in this case, it was Rajesh Khanna’s funeral.  So instead, Amitabh and Abhishek exited the car and walked.

And walked

And walked.

and walked

And walked

All the way through this wild crowd scene the last 300 feet to the crematorium.  Because it’s Rajesh Khanna, the one man that even Amitabh Bachchan will lower himself to the human level to honor.

      Oh, I’m all emotional!  Okay, to recover, time to think about who I am covering next!  I’m gonna make this simple, you only have 3 choices:

  Rekha

Meena Kumari

The Chopras

  Hindi Film 101: Khanna-Kapadia-Kumar, the Final Chapter! Unto Death Last part!  Which is also frankly my favorite part because the Rajesh Khanna funeral was INSANE!!!!  Also, I really like Twinkle's post-marriage life.

[charmscale]

A Demon’s Lust Chapter 6

Saban

It was a bad night. As I lay there in Marian’s room, tightly bound and gagged, visions of what must be going on in Anita’s room paraded through my head. Maybe, at this very moment, that bastard was licking her pussy, and then kissing her with slightly damp lips. Perhaps she was riding on top of him, impaled on his cock. Maybe they were-

I tried to drown out the thoughts by imagining what I would do to to this Lord Umbron if I ever got the chance. First I would break both his legs, so he couldn’t run, and his arms, so he couldn’t even crawl away. Then I would shove something up his ass to give him an erection. Even with the pain of four broken limbs, I knew I could make him hard if I manipulated him just right. And, once he was hard, I would skin his dick, sliver by bloody sliver. I would make him watch as his cock was slowly reduced to a thin, bloody bit of meat. All the while I would be feeding, too, first on the little bit of magic even non wizards had, and then on his life force, so that, as I reduced his manhood to a red ruin, his hair would grey and his skin would shrivel with premature age. I would torture him further, slowly draining him of life. Then, as he finally expired, I would pluck his balls from beneath the thing that use to be his penis, and eat them like grapes.

I would make Anita watch as I did this, and then, after he died, I would fuck her on top of his body, his blood still wet on my lips, all the while reminding her that, if she had just told him no, Umbron might still be alive. The look of horror and revulsion on her face as I forced her to cum…

Wasn’t satisfying at all, for some reason. Quite the opposite, actually. The idea of hurting her like that bothered me. Maybe I wouldn’t rape her on top of Umbron’s corpse, then. But I would tell her that it was all her fault. Or, well, maybe not. And perhaps I would let her look away, if she liked, as I tortured her lover. In fact, perhaps I could do this while she was somewhere else entirely. And not tell her about it. Ever.

I blinked in confusion. Revenge was a traditional demonic pastime, but, for some reason, the idea of avenging myself on her, my Anita, wasn’t pleasing me, angry as I was with her. Why? In fact, why was I angry at all? She was just having sex. Why did that mean anything to me? Regardless, the idea of her touching him, and letting him touch her, made me livid, but, despite my rage, I didn’t want to hurt Anita. At all. Ever. Why?

It was morning now. Marian woke up, and a servant brought her breakfast. I wondered if she would unchain me. Probably not. Not without Anita.

Through the bond, I felt Anita approaching. When she got close enough, I could feel that she was angry. At Umbron, perhaps? The idea pleased me.

The door opened, and Anita stalked in. “Marian? Do me a favor. Next time I decide to spend quality time with Lord Umbron, remind me what an arrogant prick he is.”

Marian looked up from her breakfast, startled. “I take it last night didn’t go well?”

Anita sighed. “Last night? Last night went fine. Last night was great.”

I felt a surge of rage as visions of what last night must have entailed danced in my head. My chains rattled as I fought them.

Anita continued, “It’s this morning that was the problem.”

“So he spent the night? What happened this morning?” Marian gestured to her bed. “Sit down, eat something, and tell me all about it.”

Anita sat and grabbed a sweet roll. She took a bite. It seemed to calm her somewhat. “So, yeah, he spent the night. When we woke up this morning, he wanted to go again, so I said ok, and we were just getting started when a servant boy walked in with breakfast.” She growled. “Umbron hit him.”

“I wouldn’t be happy if someone walked in on me, either,” Marian commented, brow furrowed.

“Well, the kid was just doing his job. Granted, he should have knocked, but I, personally, think hitting him hard enough to break his nose was a little uncalled for.”

“You’re right, that was a bit much, if all he did was open the door,” Marian said. “I take it you gave Lord Umbron a piece of your mind? And he didn’t take it well?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We ended up having what basically amounted to a really heated debate on peasant rights. He tried to prove his point by ordering the kid to suck his dick. I kicked him out of my room.”

“I can’t blame you. Is the kid ok?” Marian asked.

“Yeah. I took him down to the palace healers and paid for a full healing before I came here.” Anita put her head in her hands. “You know what really bothers me though? About the whole thing? More than Lord Umbon, or anything else?”

Marian put her hand on Anita’s shoulder. “What?”

“The kid was going to do it. Suck Umbron’s cock.”

Sensible of him, I thought. The best way to deal with a more powerful being was to acquiesce. It was the driving force behind demon society, such as it was.

“Marian, I just… Well, I don’t know anymore. My parents, especially my father, brought me up to believe that everyone is equal. Some people are born with more money, or power, but that doesn’t… That doesn’t change the fundamental personness of a person. You know?” Anita sighed. “Am I actually making any sense?”

Not really, I thought.

Marian nodded. “I get you. It’s like you always say, what a person is capable of doesn’t define who they are.”

Anita nodded. “Exactly. And I understand it when people like Umbron think they’re better, more important, than other people. It’s kind of, like, natural, for a person to think like that. I hate it, but I understand. What I don’t get, what bothers me, is when other people believe people like Umbron, believe that he’s on top, and they’re on bottom, and stuff. It just…” Anita shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense to me. Humbleness? Like the reverse of pride, or maybe just a different kind of pride, or something like that.”

Marian gave her a quick hug. “I know. I grew up a noble, remember? You see a lot of that sort of class consciousness in servants. I never did get it myself. But it’s how people are. And you can’t change that.”

Anita looked thoughtful for a second, and then shook her head. “No. No, you can’t change how people are. Even if you could, it wouldn’t be right. Even if it would fix things.”

Mortals. So sentimental, I thought. So hung up on guilt and what was ‘right.’ But I wouldn’t have them any other way. It made them so much easier to manipulate.

Anita looked down at me. “Did he keep you awake at all?”

Marian shook her head. “Quiet as a temple mouse.”

“Good. So, what are the plans for the day?”

Anita

I yawned, exhausted, as I handed my reins to a stablehand. I hated hunting. I really, really hated hunting. If it were anything less than my best friend’s life on the line, or if the king hadn’t been attending the hunt, I would have made an excuse not to come. On the plus side, Saban had been a sight to see, with his perfect ass, running down a stag, and bringing it back to throw at the feet of my horse. And his impressive performance had led the king, mostly sober for once, to seek me out and chat with me. I had been able to mention the matter of Marian’s special dispensation, and he had promised to look into it. I looked over to my familiar. “You’ve earned your feeding this evening, demon.”

His eyes gleamed. “Does that mean-”

“Yes. When we get to the room,” I promised as I smiled and waved at Marian and her parents. They were having a private family dinner this evening.

I stopped by the kitchens to grab some dinner. Might as well save the servants the trip. Then I headed up to my room, with my demon behind me.

I closed and magically sealed the door, and then turned to my familiar. “You know the drill,” I told him. “Turn around with your hands behind you.” Grudgingly, he obeyed.

Once I had chained his wrists and ankles, I made him lie down on the bed. He acquiesced readily, eyes gleaming. Somehow I was no longer as tired as I had been immediately after the hunt.

Mounting Saban on a bed, as opposed to in the woods, felt different. More intimate. It made me a little nervous as I lowered myself onto Saban’s face. As he began to lick me, I closed my eyes. His rough penetration of my pussy with his tongue, combined with his continual attention to my clit, made me moan. I was ready very quickly indeed, but I waited a bit longer, until I was close to cumming, to disengage myself from his tongue.

As I lifted myself away from Saban’s busy mouth, he growled and fought his restraints, trying to follow me. “Calm down,” I told him. “I’m not ending the feeding. I’m just moving.” Saban quieted.

With a quiver of pure pleasure, I began to lower myself onto the demon’s cock. He immediately thrust upward, filling me completely. I yelped in surprise, and then yelped again as he immediately began to move within me at an almost painful pace. With a shudder and a cry, I began to cum.

Abruptly there was a snapping noise, and then another. Before I could wonder what it was, before I could even come out of my orgasm, Saban’s hands were out from behind his back. One swiftly captured both my wrists. With the other, Saban grabbed me by the hair and forced my mouth, still open in an orgasmic yell, against his. His tongue quickly surged between my lips, preventing me from speaking.

As I began to come down from the high of orgasm, I was flipped over on my back so Saban was on top of me, pinning me down. He tangled his legs around mine, preventing me from kicking. I began thrash frantically, trying to get free. With my wrists caught, and my mouth full of Saban’s tongue, there was little I could do. I began to form a spell in my mind, one that wouldn’t require gesture or voice, to send Saban flying across the room.

However, Saban was making it very difficult to concentrate. The way his tongue moved against mine and the pressure against my clit were very distracting. When he began to gyrate his hips against mine, moving his cock within me, I almost lost the spell. And I would lose the spell if he kept this up. I was going to… I was gonna…

I came. My scream was muffled, and my movements confined, but I was cumming all the same. I lost the spell. Panic, oddly enough, added fuel to the fire, lengthening my orgasm. “Mmmmmmmm!”

When the overwhelming pleasure finally subsided, I began to form the spell again. This would be my last chance. My power reserves were low. Next time I came, Saban would drain my magic dry. I would be helpless. The binding on him that kept him from harming me would break. I had no doubt he would start draining my life force then, as slowly as he knew how. When that was gone, I would die.

I was fighting to form the spell, and, at the same time, fighting to force down the growing heat in my nether regions as Saban stimulated me mercilessly. He wasn’t taking much magic, oddly enough. Probably waiting for the big finish. I whimpered as he pulled out of me to rub the tip of his cock against my clit. I didn’t have much longer.

Fortunately, I didn’t need much longer. I unleashed the spell, and Saban went flying across the room to slam against the opposite wall. “Freeze!” I ordered him. He fought to move, to come pin me down once more. I glared at him. After what felt like an eternity of mental struggle, he stopped fighting, and lay frozen on the floor.

I stood, ignoring the parts of me longing for another orgasm. The remains of Saban’s chains lay on the bed. They, and the spell that reinforced them, were shredded. I shuddered. If I had been just a bit slower in forming the telekinesis spell… But I hadn’t been. And that was what mattered.

I clenched my fist. Saban, still unable to move, moaned. “Thanks to that little stunt,” I told him, “I am never, ever going to let you bring me to orgasm again. You will still be allowed to feed by pleasuring me, but you will never, ever taste my magic as I cum again. This isn’t just a punishment. It’s a natural consequence. I no longer feel safe letting you make me cum. Are we clear?” I released Saban.

He sighed in relief as the pain subsided. “I understand,” he said. He looked up at me. “You will regret it.”

“I would regret it a lot more if you’d managed to kill me,” I told him evenly.

“I wasn’t-” Saban began. I clenched my fist. He whimpered once, and was silent. I released him.

“As I have said before, never, ever lie to me,” I told him. “You might not have been planning to kill me immediately, but you would have eventually gotten around to it.”

Saban

It was useless to protest that I would never dream of hurting her. She wouldn’t believe it. Hell, I had a hard time believing it myself sometimes. I wasn’t sure exactly what I had planned on doing once I had drained all of Anita’s magic, but I wouldn’t have touched her lifeforce.

Anita informed me that we were leaving the capital tonight, and bound me in a spare set of chains as she began to pack. I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she was expecting me to break these, too. And I could have, if I’d wanted. Now that I’d broken the chain spell once, I knew where it was weak, and could break it again much more easily. But I didn’t want to. Not right now. It would serve no purpose.

I remembered the sudden sense of freedom as I had broken the chains that first time, and then the surge of joy as the other set broke as well. I remembered the feeling of Anita, fully in my power, thrashing beneath me in a mixture of fear and pleasure. And, best of all, I remembered the taste of her magic as I forced her to cum.

I also remembered how much weaker the arm chains had gotten once I had broken the ones around my legs. Was that suppose to happen? My knowledge of the more intricate aspects of magic was limited, but I knew some. A spell like that would be crafted so that, if one part failed, the other would get stronger as the remains of the first part reinforced the second.

This seemed like something Anita should know. “Mistress-” I began.

Anita silenced me with a glare and a partially clenched fist. “I’d really rather not talk to you right now. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet.”

“It’s important,” I insisted.

“It had better be,” my mistress warned.

“The set of chains around my arms were easier to break once I broke the ones around my legs,” I informed her. “Is that important enough for you?”

Anita went to examine the shackles where they lay on the bed. Her eyes glowed briefly as she examined the spell in more detail. She turned pale. “Fuck.” She turned to me, suspicion in her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

I shrugged as best I could from my position on the floor. “It seemed like something you ought to know.”

She examined the chains I was wearing, eyes glowing once more. I considered breaking free and overpowering her, then and there, but decided against it. Her power flexed, and suddenly the chains were just a bit more difficult to get out of. I would still be able to do it, but it would take a little more time and effort.

“The chains were sabotaged,” she told me, still suspicious. “Very subtly. I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me what to look for. Why?”

“Why does anyone sabotage something like this?” I asked. “They wanted you dead.”

“I know that. What I want to know is, why warn me about the sabotaged chains? What’s in it for you? It seems a little counterproductive, you telling me this,” she said, eyes narrowed.

I met her gaze. “It seemed like something you ought to know,” I repeated. In truth, it was all about lulling her into a false sense of security. Well, mostly about that. Partially. A little. It was mostly because some part of me honestly felt I ought to tell her things like this. It was… An odd feeling.

Anita sighed. “Whatever your game is, it won’t work, demon. But enough of this. I have packing to do.”

As I watched her pack, I wondered what would happen, what she would do, if she found out I was a demon lord. I imagined her look of panic, horror, and regret. She would immediately dismiss me, of course. When she first summoned me, that was all I wanted. Then I wanted to stick around to get my revenge, and being dismissed would have been irritating. And now… Now the idea of her dismissing me sent a jolt of panic through my mind. I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to be with her, to have and to hold her, to protect her. If she ever found out what I really was…