#other than her very questionable taste in men i made her to have big legally blonde vibes

[assassin-artist]

redid my Scarlet cousin lineup

[demivampirew]

The Fantasy

August x Reader x Sy one shot

Triggers: smut; threesome; agressive sex; *nal; male dominant. (some fluff too)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill​ @thetaoofzoe​​

A/N: It’s almost 3 am but I couldn’t help myself, I needed to write this 🤭

"Your neck is so soft and delicate," the tall handsome man told you as he kissed it and wrapped his hand around it. His tongue explored your smooth skin until it reached your mouth. The taste of liquor on those heavenly lips was intoxicating and the hair of his mustache gave you tingles. You were giggling as he continued to gently kiss your neck when you noticed a man sitting across the bar looking at you. It wasn't strange for a man to look at you after it was normal for men to desire you, but the intriguing thing about that man is that it looked like the man who was tasting your skin at that very moment. There were a few difference between them, though: one had a lot of hair and a mustache, the other had a bushy beard and shaved head. The one sitting on the table had camel coloured cargo pants and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt; the other had suit pants, a shirt and a tie. Even the energy was different. The one kissing you seemed to have more aggressive energy than the other man, who looked more serious. You grabbed the handsome man's chin and made him look at you and then you nodded in direction to the other guy. - I think I just found your doppelgänger.- you laughed playfully, biting your bottom lip. - He's my brother.- he explained without paying to much attention and putting his lips back of your neck. After grabbing his hand and smiling at you kissing partner, you walked towards the table were his twin was sitting. You sat next to him and the other brother sat next to you. - Hi, nice to meet you. I'm y/n- you introduced yourself smiling- And you are? - People call me Sy or Captain Syverson.- he replied. - Captain? Are you in the military?- you questions curiously. - That's right, ma'am.- he confirmed. He had a thick Southern accent. - Why do you have a Southern accent and you don't?- you asked, first pointing at the gentleman you were talking to and then to the one who could no stop kissing your neck. - Because when our parents got divorced, he went to live with my mother in Georgia and I'll stay here with my dear father.- the well-dressed man explained. When he mentioned his dad, he did it sarcastically, it seems like they did not get along, but you felt that it was better not to ask. - But didn't you tell me your last name was Walker?- you questioned confused. - I legally changed my name after I moved. I do not want to keep anything that relates me to that man and he has our mother's surname. - So this is the reunion you planned for me, brother? Am I supposed to spend my night watching you play with the lady? I thought this was a night for us to get some drinks and get acquaintance after a long time of no seeing each other.- the military man reproached his brother. - Relax, Jack. Have a drink, maybe find yourself a lady.- he suggested and his brother rolled his eyes. - Let's go. I'm sure both of you would be better off in your place and I can't spend one more minute listening to this crappy music.- he suggested. It was no surprise; a man who listens to classic rock would not like dancing music.

Since your home was the closer one, you offered them to go there. You had an empty room with a comfortable bed for Sy to sleep in if he wanted to. He shrugged and accepted the offer.

After getting to your place, the Captain went straight to the spare room and his brother waited for you to change inside your room. You came back from the bathroom wearing a black mini skirt - it was no much longer than a thick belt, with a thong underneath and a matching bra and high heels sandals. You walked towards Walker and he grabbed you by your ass, pressing his huge hands and grabbing it. He was sitting at the edge of the bed and made you sit on his thighs facing him. He exposed your breasts without taking away the bra and started to suck your nipples. He was no delicate but that was even more appealing. You felt his erection pressing your pussy and you were already wet. To be honest, you weren't just aroused by the attention that man was giving you, but because you kept imaging what it would be like to be with his brother too. He was extremely handsome as well and his attitude excited you. - May I ask you a question?- you asked. - Sure.- he said without much care, concentrated on sucking and bitting your breasts. - Would you be offended... Do you think your brot...- you said but stopped yourself at the thought of how weird it could be for him to hear that you had the fantasy of being with both of them.- You know what, forget about it.- you dismissed the question but he stopped what he was doing and looked at you raising an eyebrow. He seemed amused. - If you want to fuck my brother too, I don't mind. But you'll have to ask him and he's not that freaky.- he explained as he laid back, putting both elbows on the bed and smirking.

- Come in.- Syverson said after hearing a knock on the door. - Hi, I just wanted to see if you needed something.- you said entering the room. You covered yourself with a satin robe. - Everything is great, thank you.- he replied. - Were you trying to sleep?- you questioned. - That was the plan. Unfortunately, I don't sleep much. Too many years on service...I've seen too much shit that takes my sleep away.-he sighed.- Sorry, I don't want to spoil your night.- he apologized. - It's ok, don't worry.- you assured him. You walked slowly and then sat on the side of the bed. He looked at you confused but captivated. You slowly put your hand on his face and delicately started to stroke it. His eyes were fixed on you. You could feel the goosebumps your touch provoked on him. You got closer and kissed his lips. - Maybe I can help you forget about the horrible things for one night.- you whispered and he froze. You unzipped his pants, peaking at his face to make sure he was ok with that. He didn't speak but there was no need for words; his eyes said everything: he wanted you. You slide his briefs and grabbed his cock and let a big amount of saliva to fall on his member so it would hurt him as you moved your hand up and down, slowly at first and the fast. After a few minutes, you let him feel your mouth. Your beautiful soft lips caressed the skin of his manhood as your tongue circled it. He got desperate to taste you. He grabbed you by your hips, making you sit on top of him as he kissed you as if that was his last day on earth. He couldn't wait to be inside you, to please you.  As he was trying to take off your underwear, you cupped his face and gently looked at him. - I want you. I'm with your brother, though.- you said.- I...he said...he said he'd be ok with you joining us, but you don't have to if you don't want to.- you explained- but I want you, be sure of that. Although, I'll completely understand if it isn't something you are comfortable with. You pressed your forehead against him and then got up from the bed and walked to the door and before leaving you turned around to face him and said "think about it" and left. -I thought that you were never coming back.- Walker said amused. You took off the robe and went back to your previous position. He tasted your breasts and pussy. August liked it rough. He fucked your throat until he saw tears coming from your eyes and doggy style was his favourite position. He would grab both of your arms and put them on you back and he pounded you hard. After his first round, he continued sucking your nipples when someone knocked on the door. You walked to open it and Sy was at the other end, looking at you, speechless by looking at your naked breasts and the rest of your body. - Would you look at that... I didn't know that you had it in you, brother.- August said smirking devilishly at his brother as he lied naked on the bed, looking at his brother with amusement on his face. - I knew this was a mistake.- he said after looking at his sibling and turned around and was about to walk away when you stopped him. - Sy wait! You stopped it! - you gave August a warning look and he rolled his eyes and stood up and walked into the bedroom's bathroom.

The military man looked at you as your eyes fixed on his and you grabbed his face and kissed him sweetly. He pulled you closer to him, embracing you and then picked you up by your thighs and walked inside the room, placing you on the bed. Out of the two brothers, there was no doubt Syverson took the price for the best at pleasing a woman with his mouth. He hit the right spot with every movement of his tongue. He got on top of you and you felt him inside of you. The brothers could be so similar yet so different. August was the kinky one, the aggressive lover, the one who expected tears from the woman. Sy, on the other hand, was the passionate one. He made love, he wanted to feel the connection. You were interrupted by August clearing his throat. "I saw her first, brother. I have no problem sharing her, but I have to be there too, that's the deal" the tall man with the mustache reminded you. Caressing his face, you whispered to him "Just concentrate on me, and close your eyes if you want". He laid on the mattress and you got on top of him. You started to ride him and made him close his eyes while you took August on your mouth. You tried hard no to make too many sounds as he fucked your throat so Sy wouldn't lose his arousal by remembering that his brother was on there too. It was indescribable the pain you felt to have them both inside of you at the same time. Both of them were much bigger than average and them fucking you at the same time was something unimaginable. August was the one fucking your ass so he ruthless pounding style had you on the edge. But to say that you were in pain it didn't mean that you weren't having the time of your life. That was, without any doubt, the best sex you've ever had. After fishing, August left you to entertain his brother for a little longer and went into the other room to catch some sleep. Now, having you all to himself, Sy put quite a show. He showed off his talents at oral again and fuck you again and again until sunrise. He wasn't quite imaginative or dominant as his brother, but he brought another thing to the table: he was a true lover. He would make you feel like the most unique woman on earth. You woke up at noon and your body laid almost entirely over Syverson's. He had woke up earlier -or maybe didn't sleep at all. He kissed your forehead and caressed your face with his thumb.

- Good morning...or afternoon.- you greeted him, chucking. - Good afternoon.- he confirmed. - Were you able to sleep? -you questioned moving slightly to be able to look at his face. - Yes. My brother woke me up when I heard him left.- he explained and you remembered the crazy night. You looked at each other and laughed. - I'm sorry if I made you do something you weren't comfortable with.-you apologized. - That's ok, you didn't force me. I stay because I wanted to.-he assured you.- You know, my brother thinks I'm vanilla when it comes to sex. I'm not, though. It's not because I felt weird about being in a threesome with my brother that I doubted for a moment ...it's because I liked you too much and I didn't want to share you, but he was right, he saw you first. - He might have seen me first and had me before you as well... but you're the one I would like to keep seeing if you want to.- you said. - Absolutely.- he agreed.

[insomniamamma]

Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

   1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.    2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

          "’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

        The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered.          "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’"  Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

     He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with.  On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after--          "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing--          "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

       The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain--        Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says.        "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?"        "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils.        "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?"        "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand.        "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

       "Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him.        "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--"        "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy.        "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes.        "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands.        "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--"        Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds.                                                                                     Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

       "Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found."         "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend.        "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel."        "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man."        "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?"        "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up."        "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round.        "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow.        "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware."        "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!"        "Daniel!"

--Stars--

       Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it--        Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still--        "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!"        "Whazzit birdie?"        "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie.        "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud."        "You sure?"        "Go back to sleep, Cee."

       "Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling--        "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him.        "Yuh. M'awake birdie,"        "I gotta pee," she says.        "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail,"        "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent.        "Alright, just gimme a second," he says.        "I'll get the light,"        "We don't need it," he says.        "Ez-"        "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

       Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers.        "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him.        "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks.        "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it?        "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his.        "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

       Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach.        "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going."        "Not right now. I want some quiet."          “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

       Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not.        "I love you, Cee."        "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

[boylovesleathers91]

Simon and Luke part 5: Holiday in the Alps

Please enjoy this fictional erotic leather story about a very submissive Simon!

Simon and Luke enjoyed their open motorcycle relationship a lot. But life in the city was stressful and often, they hardly found any time for mutual rides - and sex. When summertime started, Simon mentioned the idea of going on Holiday together – of course with their bikes. Luke was in favor of this great idea, and Simon believed that Luke would get a surprise for him. Luke has always had the hottest sex ideas.

Finally, they came to a decision. They wanted to explore the Eastern Alps in Central Europe that weren’t far away from their home so they could go there using their sports bikes – as you may remember, Simon was riding a KTM 690 Duke and wearing his Dainese and Alpinestars gear, Luke’s bike was a black ninja. They really enjoyed the mountains, riding up and down impressive mountain passes several times. When they stopped, everyone was friendly – maybe the guys were impressed by their sports bikes and their shiny leather gear and the girls were ecstatic because of their masculine looks?

Once, they stopped for an overnight stay in a small village. “I met some horny guys from the local motocross club”, Luke told Simon. “They’d want to taste your sweet ass with their dicks. But they said it was important that nobody in this place can find out. They’re all in heterosexual relationships, you know. Therefore, they’d pay me so much money we could use for our holiday. I want you to do that.” Simon hesitated. He was used to take Luke’s orders as he played the submissive part in their relationship. But Luke had never asked Simon before to get fucked by other men. Somehow, Simon felt aroused by the thought of getting pounded by those athletic motocross dudes. At the end of the day, Simon agreed. The next afternoon, Luke guided Simon to the club house. Three young guys were already there, all wearing their full motocross gear. The youngest of the guys seemed to be barely above the legal age. The boy’s Alpinestars gear was full of mud and sweat, apparently, he had just had a hard training session. The guys didn’t introduce themselves, except the young guy whose name seemed to be Leo. “I’ve got a girlfriend, but I’m still questioning my sexuality”, he told Luke. The others also had their motocross helmets on so they wouldn’t be recognized.

Luke commanded Simon to lay down on a small bench that was situated on a platform, so that Simon was on all fours, with his ass in a comfortable higher position. Simon felt his bike leathers’ special backside zipper being opened, leaving his asshole free to the public. Wearing his racing gloves and racing boots, he was bound to the bench so he couldn’t really move. Some of the motocross dudes began to rub their dicks through their motocross pants. Simon couldn’t see them, as he was forced to look in the opposite direction. A well-trained guy of about 30 years who obviously was the club’s leader slowly approached Simon’s ass. “Stop”, shouted Luke. “As this hole has not been lubed yet, you will need to do some prework. Leo, come here and help your bike friend.” Leo was shy but finally did what he was told to. His older buddy unpacked his hard cock and showed Leo to suck it: “Make it as wet as possible, I’ll take care of that dirty hole”. While Leo was getting his master’s cock shoved down his throat, the older athlete started to lick Simon’s completely shaved asshole. Simon moaned enjoying the treatment. Soon, the older guy decided to start the next level. He kicked Leo away and positioned his cock’s tip right at the entrance to Simon’s well-prepared anus. Leo sat down; he knew he was last because he was the youngest of them. With a single thrust, the athlete shoved it completely into Simon’s ass. Simon took the older guy’s cock easily, since it was only of average size compared to Luke’s penis. The older guy didn’t have much endurance and shot his man cream into Simon’s ass. The dude was satisfied and left the place to go showering. The second guy, who observed the scene rubbing his stiff cock through his motocross pants, was next. His cock was also of average size, but it had a huge tip. When he fucked Simon’s ass gently, Luke also got a boner and rubbed it through his tight leather suit. Simon noticed that and showed him to come closer. Luke opened his leather pants and unpacked his cock, so Simon could suck it. Stuffed from two sides and getting his prostate massaged by the huge cock end, Simon’s own penis was soaking his tight leather suit with precum. At the same time, Luke and the other guy enjoyed their climaxes a few minutes later and shot their loads into Simon’s body. The other anonymous guy also left for the showers.

Now, it was Leo’s turn and he was right at Simon’s hole. Luke was surprised when the young dude unzipped his motocross pants, as his cock was even bigger than his own– about 24 cm long - and coated with strong veins. At the tip, a drop of precum could be seen. As he had learned from his colleagues, Leo positioned his giant cock at Simon’s lust hole and shoved it in with a single thrust. Simon screamed once as he wasn’t used to cocks of this size, but it was no big problem as his hole was well lubed with two guys’ cum. Simon soon began to enjoy Leo fucking him with slow but intense thrusts. Simon tried to position himself differently despite being bound quite tightly, so with every thrust, his wet penis was pressed against his tight leather pants. Leo really was well-trained and had a lot of endurance, he fucked Simon for at least forty minutes, both continuously moaning. Beneath his protective gear, Leo’s sweat was running down his motocross trained body into his muddy Alpinestars Tech boots. Simon smelled the young athlete’s scent and it made him even hornier. Accompanied by three loud screams, Leo pumped various loads of his boy milk into Simon’s asshole. Simon came as well and shot his load into his tight black orange Dainese leathers. They stayed in that comfortable position and enjoyed the moment. Slowly, Leo pulled out his still jerking massive dick out of Simon’s gaping lust cave. He kissed Simon’s leathered butt cheeks and closed the backside zipper. Together with Luke, they uncaged Simon who wasn’t far away from losing consciousness. “Awesome”, was the only word that came out of his mouth.

“Simon, your lust hole was way better than my odd girlfriend’s pussy”, Leo explained. “And you know, the other gays are just idiots, they only wanted to fuck your ass. But they wouldn’t ever tell anyone about this because they are stupid cowards. I really enjoyed this opportunity, and there is also an emotion in my heart I’ve never had before. Is it love? I don’t know! But I will break up with my girlfriend, I don’t believe that I’m loving her. However, being queer can be hard in the village! What do you think?”. Simon, who felt four boys’ cum including his own running down his thighs into his racing boots, answered “We will definitely support you. It’s important to be true to yourself and others. You’re old enough, so you can always leave this town. Maybe you would like to come with us? You seem to be a good biker!” At the end of the day, Simon and Leo exchanged their helmets, so they could inhale the other boy’s masculine scent every time they wanted to.

To be continued?

Did you like the story? Reblog it! 😊 What adventures would you want Simon and Luke to get into?

Please note that this story is fictional. Any resemblance to living persons is unintentional. Please also note that in real life, you should always be aware of informed consent and avoiding sexually transmitted diseases when you hook up with someone. Please also respect your local Covid-19 restrictions.

[peeterparkr]

limits of desire⤳t.h.||10

chapter 10: throw your bridal shower.

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the Toblerone, the questionnaire & the lingerie

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing, angsty, fluffy, harry potter, alcohol mention, sex mention, i didn’t proof read lmao

word count: 6.3k

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

“What even is a Bridal Shower?” Sam asked. 

Tom and Haz had tried to set up the perfect bridal shower since y/n told him. They were good at planning parties at the last minute. But, those parties usually involved alcohol, music and chips. Nothing too complicated. However, a bridal shower was a whole different thing. 

Poker night was definitely going to go way different than the boys had expected it to go. For starters, Haz and Tom's house was covered in flowers, with tables and chairs around. There were cheesy signs with messages like 'Here comes the Bride', 'Put a Ring On It' and ‘Miss to Mrs.’. There were pink flowers, and in the refrigerator, to Harry's surprise, there was no space, due to the pink cheesecake, the pink chocolate cake, and the pink champagne. Haz and Tom had started shopping and decorating as soon as they had left the dance class. 

"Don't tell me the toilet is the pink too," Harry complained. 

"Alright, Tom," Tuwaine rolled his eyes. “I never thought I'd say this, but here you go...Magazines for bridesmaids, from various countries.” 

“I found videos on youtube,” said Harry. “I sent them to you.” 

“I made a board on Pinterest,” Haz said. “And i shared it with you.” 

"Although honestly, everything would be easier if you went to her hotel room and told her how you feel," Sam suggested. “You know, show up with some flowers, maybe champagne, or maybe show up with some cards, Love Actually style, and tell her how you feel.” 

“That could work,” Harry agreed. "But hey, I already ordered some pizzas and here are the beers, drink them since the fridge is full," he said while sipping his beer. 

"No ... No, you don't understand," Tom wrinkled his nose, "It's not just preventing this wedding, it's also showing her I'm not against them." 

"You're not?" Tuwaine asked condescendingly. 

Tom sighed, thinking about the blue box in his drawer. "I bought something." 

Haz raised his eyebrows. "What? A ring?”

“If you did, then…maybe you could go and propose to her,” Tuwaine suggested.

“Don’t be silly! He can’t propose to an engaged woman,” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Neither can’t he confess his love, then,” Harry added. “At this point it’s… complicated.” 

“Did you really buy a ring?” Haz asked, 

"No, no ... Nothing, nothing," Tom cleared his throat. "Now, I need to turn this place into a dream place for y / n, uh ... Actually, I also made a board on pinterest, as crazy as it sounds, I have everything here, there will be a hot chocolate bar ..." 

"Tom," Haz stopped him. "Sam made a point." 

"I know, but it's not that simple." 

"Isn't it easy to tell her that you love her?" Tuwaine laughed. "Man, I’m telling you, it took a long time for you not to tell her, already." 

"If I have waited so long I can wait longer," Tom added. “I want her to see that I can really take things seriously, you guys understand?” 

“I think rather, you are afraid, Tom,” said Harry. "I think you're afraid of being rejected as you rejected her." 

"Maybe, yes," Tom admitted. “But hey, wouldn’t you feel that way? You saw how she was looking at  Miguel, right? ” 

“ Yes, Tom, but I also saw how you danced with her today, I've never seen her have that chemistry with someone else, not even with Miguel on the night of the party, ”Haz insisted. 

"That's what it all relies on," Tom said. "She may have feelings for me, but she thinks I'm not fit for her." 

"Have you told her that you have changed?" Sam asked. 

"Yes," Tom sighed. "She doesn't believe me." 

"We need an insider," Tuwaine suggested. 

"We just need to convince not only y/n, then," said Haz. "She has a very poisonous voice there by her side." 

"Lizzie," Tom growled. "And how to make Lizzie convince herself?" 

"Ask her for help, for the party!" Sam suggested.”Maybe she’ll think you’ve changed, too!”

Tom thought about it. "Okay, okay," he said as he pulled out his phone, texting Lizzie asking about ideas for the shower of y / n. 

"I don't know," Haz hesitated. "I think Lizzie isn't so happy with y / n's wedding either." 

"Do you think so?" Tom raised his head. 

Tuwaine was the first to let out a laugh. "Tom, please, the only thing Lizzie wants in this life is for y/n  to get away from you." The other friends followed his laughter.

“Really?” Tom frowned. 

“Yeah, but I heard her speaking at the party,” Haz said. “She told Hannah how she was unsure, that y/n should not marry someone she had just met.” 

“She’s right about that,” Tom rolled his eyes. 

“But still, she doesn’t like you,” Tuwaine added. 

“Oh, no, she likes him just fine,” Sam teased. “But she’s angry Tom doesn’t like her in the same way.” 

Tom rolled his eyes, but he received a text from Lizzie. 

“Flowers, lots of flowers,” it read. 

And he knew Lizzie meant that text. Because y/n loved flowers. 

“Have the place be presentable. Fairy tale with taste, not too much.” She textured again. 

"Ah, that's fine ... Now, you have to ... Transform this men's cage into a dream place," Tom said with little desire. 

"What is a bridal shower, again?" Harry asked. “Do you have to bring strippers? Oh, what if you're the stripper for. ” 

“No, no, no! it's not a bachelorette party, ”said Tom. "Actually, uh ... I don't know, I just know that we have to do the centerpieces, oh and plan games." 

"Games, yes, I had some of that on my board on pinterest ..." Haz said. "Here it is! 30 games to do in a Bridal Shower! ” 

Harry took Haz's cell phone, reading the games. 

"great, that sounds promising," Tom said, he looked too stressed. "Hey, let's see." 

Harry read the list. "You know, most of the games are really coupley things," said Harry. “You know… for couples who have been together for a long time. It would be easy if it were you. ” 

“You could make a game like that, right? Let her understand that she doesn't know Miguel and that you Tom, are the one who should really be with her, ”Tuwaine said. 

"Yes ... Yes," Tom cleared his throat. 

"Yes, the nearly-wed game," Haz said. "I'll send a text to Miguel, I'll have him answer the questions and-" 

"You have his number?" 

"I had to spend a whole day with him, man, what did you expect?" Harrison sighed. “But, let's ask him questions and let y/n try to answer them. And vice-versa, make y/n answer a questionnaire, and we have Tom answer it. ” 

“Cool, now help me out wit these,  ‘the thanks for coming’ gifts,” Tom said, as he took out little bags. 

"Toblerones?" Asked Harry as he looked into the bag. 

"Yes..." Tom smiled. “Toblerones.” 

“And… is this Harry Potter themed? I thought the theme was pink.”

Haz laughed, “the theme is the night Tom fell in love with her.” 

——

Not far from there, y/n was not having a good time. She felt her head was going to explode. She was sure that whatever that had happened at the dancing lesson was not insignificant. She was in her hotel room, with Lizzie sitting on the edge of her bed while y/n was complaining against the pillow. 

Lizzie was drinking from her glass of wine while staying quiet.

"Are you done?" She asked her friend. 

"No," answered y / n. “I have serious problems.” 

“Needless to say.”

“I love Miguel,” said y/n, more for her than for Lizzie, who decided to remain silent. "I mean ... I don't know why I'm doing this." 

"Y / N, you’re not over Tom," Lizzie told her. 

"What are you talking about? I'm over him… No, wait, I'm not over because I was never… above him, ”Y / n closed her. eyes. "I mean ... You know what I mean." 

Lizzie poured her a glass of wine. "Okay,y/n, it's time we talked." 

"Talk about what?"

"Talk about how you have been in love with Tom for a long time already?" 

Y / N glared at her friend. "No ...that is not true." 

"Come on, y / n, I can assure you that I know the day you fell in love with him." Lizzie sighed. "it was just shortly after you met, when you had that great big  essay, you remember? The big Christmas party? We were on finals.” 

"That ..." 

"You fell in love at that time, and ... if I didn’t know Tom any better, I also believe that he fell in love at that precise moment. ” 

Y/N took a sip of her wine glass. Yes, she remembered it too.

5 years ago. 

It was cold, y/n had not stopped sneezing, and she had a mixture of tissues, notes and books around her bedroom. Her eyes were covered with dark circles and her nose was red. She was curled up while trying to read yet another book so she could finish her essay on the criticism of contemporary media, talking about free speech with legal terms and other nonsense that y/n did not remember due to her illness.

She was almost finished but, y/n, like the great student She was, she was still editing it. There was a party, Tom had invited her and her friends. Haz and he were celebrating the finals and Christmas. Honestly, it was yet another way to get girls to bed. 

Y/ n's friends had been gushing about how amazing it was that y/n was now friends with a celebrity. And they were insisting on how y/n should be dating Tom, thing which, y/n of course declined, being that because clearly Tom was not the kind of guy you go out on dates with, but someone for a one-night stand. Y/n didn’t want that.

Besides, she liked him, as a friend, of course. 

But she wasn’t going to the party, she had an essay to finish. Besides, she felt worse and worse by each second. Every second her cold was killing her. 

"Are you sure you're not going?" Rachel, her roommate, asked. “It's you whom he invited.” 

“I am sure, I don't want to risk getting even more sick, have fun, get out, and I hope you get some.” 

She had sent a text to Tom, telling him she wouldn't go to his party because her body had decided to betray her, but she wished him luck and asked him to please not sleep with any of her friends, she didn't want things to be uncomfortable. 

-C'mon, please join us, it'll be fun, you know what they say, drinking whiskey is like going to the doctor

-Who says that? 

-I just did

-I'm sorry, I really wish I could, but I need to rest, have fun, tho!

So she curled up in her bed, coughing as she covered herself. She fell asleep. But not for long because someone had knocked on her door. Y / N, covered with a blanket, approached the door, which opened only to reveal a coated Tom who had a pizza box in one hand and another box with other things under it. 

"What are you doing here?" She asked, perplexed as Tom surrounded her to enter the room. 

"I came to take care of you," Tom said. "My God, you're a mess." 

"Take care of me?" 

"Yes, I told you I would throw that party to spend time with you, you decided not to come so I assumed I would bring the fun to you," Tom said with a smile. "I will help you clean up and then we will watch a movie," Tom said, leaving the box with things on her bed and the pizza on her desk, while throwing out y/n’s tissues and cleaning up her mess. 

Y / N looked at him perplexed, with a smile, but not without , of course, sneezing.

"Hell, you sound terrible," Tom scoffed. “I believe you now, I mean I saw you with the red nose but it could’ve been makeup.” 

“What… what is this?” Y/n asked approaching the box. 

"A care package." 

Y / N burst out laughing. “Really?” 

“Yes, hey, I told you that I wanted to be your best friend, right? I think it's a good start, besides, you deserve it, I've seen you kill yourself for school, you need a break, ”Tom said, as he approached the box. "It has everything you need, I know you're old-fashioned and you still have a DVD, so I brought your favorites, Harry Potter." 

Y / N smiled as she looked at the box. It had the Harry Potter movies, vitamin C supplements, chapstick, lotion, medicine,gatorades, tissues, advils, tea bags in a new cup, popcorn, toblerones (y / n's favorites), a pair of socks and a blanket . Y / N's heart melted. 

Tom finished cleaning up the mess y/n had built up while y/n watched him and helped him with it. She saw him, for the first time, in a different way. 

"Besides, I brought pizza, because I'm sure you forgot to eat," Tom said. “Now, put on the movie, snuggle up, take your pills, while I'm going to search for some hot water for your tea, okay?” 

“But… Tom, your party,” said y/n. 

"There will be more parties, silly," Tom laughed. “A friend needs me.” 

And y/n had felt like her body was quickly warming up, and she was sure it wasn't a fever. And in that moment when she saw him smile, y/n understood many things about Tom. What she had seen from the beginning, just a few weeks ago. Tom was someone who cared. Tom was meticulous and loyal as a friend. 

And she suddenly felt that her stomach was churning, maybe she could blame the same cold, but she had decided to ignore it. Blaming it on illness, when she was completely sure that she had fallen in love with Tom. She saw it with different eyes, and although it was too early to say it, she had seen him with blind eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” she told him as soon as he came back. 

“I sure did, you deserve to have fun, too,” Tom chuckled. “Look, I will also take you out for breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Hmm—breakfast?” 

“Fine, brunch so you can sleep a bit more, alright?” Tom grinned. “But actually sleep! I’ve seen how you live on coffee and you should actually sleep more.” 

Y/n chuckled, he was right. They stayed quiet for a bit. 

“The pizza is great, but you know what I’m craving right now?” She looked at him. 

“strawberry cheesecake,” Tom guessed. 

Y/N blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she laughed. “I was actually thinking about that!”

Tom’s eyes widened. “No way!” 

Y/n giggled between coughs. “Yes! How could you even guess?”

Tom shrugged. “We were meant to be friends, y/n,” he smirked. “Now, let’s prove if this is destiny or not. What dessert am I craving?”

She looked him in the eyes. “I—well,” she bit her lip. “Chocolate truffle cake.” 

Tom blinked. “Now that is creepy.” 

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really, that is creepy.” 

“Maybe we read each other’s mind—“ she smiled, as she snuggled with her blanket and her old Mickey Mouse plush. 

“Still creepy,” he laughed. 

“You know, I need to take you to this bakery, it’s near here, I discovered once when it was raining and I had nowhere else to get in, it’s sooo good, they have all kinds of dessert.” 

“Like strawberry cheesecake and chocolate truffle cake?” Tom grinned. 

“Yes, like strawberry cheesecake and chocolate truffle cake.”

That had been the first of many times curled up watching Harry Potter. It became another tradition between the two of them, who shared it only with each other. And since that day, y/n had not been able to let her feelings stop growing. But Tom had taught her that he was not a good match, that Tom was simply not built for relationships. 

Which brings us back to today, where she was drinking from a glass of cheap wine in a hotel room with Lizzie. 

"I'm not in love with him," said Y / N, trying to convince her friend. 

"You are," Lizzie told her. "Y / N are you sure you're going to marry a man when you love someone else?" 

"I don't know, Lizzie, it's complicated," said y / n. “It's… I love Miguel, he loves me like someone should love me. I don't have to beg him for his love, do you understand? Miguel doesn't go around reminding me that he can't love me. ”

“ Y / N. ” 

“ Maybe, Lizzie, I was in love with Tom, I can't… I don't know, I think it's something that had to happen, and you're right, It all happened that night, when he decided not to go to his party to take care of me, ”she smiled as she remembered. 

“Yeah.” 

“But, being honest, Lizzie, why wouldn't I fall in love with him? Have you thought about that?  I mean, he ... he gave everything for me, that night is just one of many, I thought maybe he felt something too. I mean, how many times didn't he pull an all-nighter himself to help me with an exam? Or how many times wasn't he there comforting me to cry with me? It was... the little details, from knowing my favourite chocolate to knowing that I accumulate notebooks. ” 

“ I know. ” 

“ But, it seems I always found a way to avoid it, as if every time he knew he was doing something to make me fall in love… He was with another girl, and yet with another girl. ” 

“ I know, I was one of the victims, I was an aware victim, though. ” 

“ You were? ” 

“ Y / N, the last time I slept with him was to prevent you from doing it, we both know Tom, he always plays that little game with you, he always looked forward to playing with you and ... And I saw that several times that you were just about to give in, but, as someone who once slept with him, I didn't want you to feel that, you know? I didn't want you to suffer that particular disappointment, ”Lizzie said with a little guilt. “Oh, I don't know,y/n.” 

“Come again?” 

“I think I saw the way you saw him, and sometimes I came to think that Tom felt the same about you and then… Then he did those things, and he turned around to flirt with whoever was in the room. ” 

“ Thank you for bringing that back, ” y/n sighed, gulping down her wine.

"Tom doesn't know how to love,y/n, or ... or maybe he does, I don't know, he's scared, that's what I see, and being honest, I can't stand it," Lizzie said. “Because in spite of everything, he is the man who has made my best friend cry the most.” 

She was right. 

“No… I don't know,” y/n ignored her gaze, knowing she was right. "But he's also a very good friend." 

"I can't deny that," Lizzie said. “But I think, I think you have to let him go.” 

“I know,” said y/n . “I tried that, I did that, and for six months, I was fine, I missed him too much, because… He's my best friend, and he's always there for me.” 

“As long as you have him close,” Lizzie told him. "You'll continue with that doubt, with that hope." 

"But you saw him today, right?" Y / N insisted. "You saw how he looked at me, and… oh Lizzie, when I was dancing with him, I felt ... I felt everything, even more than with Miguel." 

The two finished their drinks and Lizzie filled them again. They remained silent, while pretending to watch the background film they had been playing all this time. 

"Y/N are you sure you want to get married?" Lizzie asked. "I understand that you want to forget Tom, but is getting married necessary?" 

Y/N did not answer suddenly but looked at her cell phone. She had a photo of Miguel as her background, as if to remind herself that he was her fiancé and not Tom. However, when unlocking it, she had a picture with Tom. She checked her notifications, and there was what she needed, a message from Miguel. Poetry, Said poetry she loved. 

“Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die. ” 

Y/N smiled to herself.

"Yes, I want to marry Miguel,"  she said confidently. “I just need to see a picture with him to remember why I want to do it, I guess… I guess I'm having all these thoughts because I know I'm going to let Tom go, forever.” 

“Forever?” 

“Yes , I don't want to live tied to him, and if I don't let him go ... I'll stay there like a fool, dancing with him just to see how he goes and ends up sleeping with another girl, I can't keep hopeful in that fantasy of him finally falling in love with me, ”y/n reminded her. "So ... after the wedding, I don't know ... Well, for starters, I'll stay there with Miguel, I'm going to leave London." 

Lizzie approached to hug her. "Take me with you. You can't leave me. ” 

Y / N let out a small, forced laugh. “I have to go, and I will, because I will love Miguel, and we will build a life together.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, y/n,” said Lizzie, as she looked at her cellphone, she erased her last notification. 

"Am I crazy?" Asked y/n.

"Very crazy, but I think Miguel will do you good," Lizzie told her. "However, if you're going to get Tom out of your life ... And after being so many years in love with him ..." 

"What?" 

"Well, if I were you, I'd have a little fun," Lizzie hinted with a smile. “I mean, you both would have to get each other out of your lives, then…” 

“Lizzie! You're saying that… ” 

“Yes, sleep with Tom, ”Lizzie laughed. "What could go wrong?" 

"I am engaged!" Claimed y / n. 

"That didn't stop you today," Lizzie reminded her. “Think about it, it was a joke… But, it would be good if you actually knew who you were in love with.” 

“Lizzie!” 

“Y/N! You’ve been in love with him for five years now. You’re getting married! And you’re never going to see him again, sleep with him, then he will have to kick you out it of his life and you will have to kick him out of your life, and you’re good! And you won’t live without knowing what it was like to sleep with probably the love of your life!” 

“He’s—not the love of my life,” lied y/n. “Miguel is.” 

“Whatever! You know you want to sleep with Tom!” Insisted Lizzie. 

“No, no. That is why I have to go back to Mexico, I will continue with that plan! if I spend 10 more minutes alone with him, I will not be able to control myself. ” 

“Do what you want y/n, ”Lizzie laughed. "It was just an idea." 

Y / N rolled her eyes. “Idiot.” 

“Oh, sometimes I appreciate that you didn't sleep with him,” Lizzie laughed, while y / n now served them both more wine. 

Y / N shook her head. They were silent for a while, watching the movie that was in the background. 

“Was he…” Y / N cleared her throat. “Was he good?” 

Lizzie smirked and raised her eyebrows. "Very." 

Y/N laughed. "I mean, with all that experience, wouldn't expect anything else." 

Lizzie laughed. "Boy knows his ways," she admitted. "And tell me ... Miguel?" 

"It's ..." Y / N flushed. "Well, nothing to do with the British guys ... He moves differently." 

"Different good?" 

"Oh, definitely, different better!" Y/n chuckled. 

Both friends started laughing to each other and gushed about the other guys they'd dated. Having fun, remembering fun anecdotes. 

—

Y/N had showed up to her bridal shower with just a slight hangover. Big was her surprise when it wasn’t a disaster. It was… perfect. Pink, very pink, but perfect. With a few touches of white and yellow thanks to the flowers Tom had chosen. 

It was cheesy but with taste, and incredibly nice. Tom served pizza, which perfectly captured y/n’s request of ‘nothing too big’. There were some big pillows on the floor where they’d be playing after. It reminded y/n of a slumber party of sorts. 

Tom was the only man around, because he was her maid of honor, of course. He was nervous and he seemed a bit out of character. Although, he had been acting that way since y/n had come back.

“Lizzie, hello,” he greeted her. 

“I’m impressed,” she admitted. “This is the best shower I’ve been to.” 

“Really?” Tom cleared his throat. “Thank you, I hope y/n likes it.” 

Lizzie raised her eyebrows at him. “What’s the theme, though? I mean… it’s lovely—“

“Ah it’s… pink, I guess,” Tom lied. “Pink slumber.” 

Lizzie gave him an authentic smile. “With strawberry cheesecake and pink chocolate cake, I see… and I saw you had some Harry Potter hints, too.” 

“Well, y/n loves Harry Potter, I guess I just threw in a bit of what she loves,” Tom accepted. 

“I see,” Lizzie gave him a sad smile. 

The party continued, and y/n, with a glass of champagne on her hand, eventually approached Tom. 

“Tom, this is adorable,” she told him. 

“I’m glad,” he grinned. 

Y/N was nibbling on a Toblerone. “I’m… seriously, thank you so much.” 

“I’m not going to lie, I was going to a Mexican themed party, but I realized that I could’ve gone in a… totally not appropriate way and that would’ve been bad, so the theme is… Pink, simpler, nicer.” 

Y/n chuckled. “Yeah, and oh thanks for the Toblerone, I totally love these,” she chuckled as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You look nice today.” 

Tom blushed looking down. “Thanks, you look… spectacular, that dress is beautiful.” 

Y/N smiled but cleared her throat. “Oh… eh, and I just… wanted to thank you for coming to the dancing lessons with me.” 

“Anything for you,” Tom said looking into her eyes. 

Y/N blinked. There it was again, that promise which held so much but his love. 

Tom smiled. “And oh, listen, the only Mexican thing is the music, listen to it, it’s… lovely,” he said turning the volume higher. “this is actually a song named ‘Solamente Una Vez’, am I pronouncing that right?” 

Y/n chuckled. “Yes, I think.” 

“Well, it’s a song… About falling in love just once,” he said looking into her eyes. 

Y/N cleared her throat as she gulped down her champagne. “Nice, uh… Did Miguel recommend it?” 

Tom closed his eyes. “No… He, he didn’t.” 

Y/N looked away, Lizzie quickly saw her and ran to save her. 

“Tom, let’s start with the games!” She suggested. 

Soon enough they were gathered around on the pillows and on the couch, waiting for the games that Tom had prepared. They were all cheerful, and happy. 

Tom chuckled. “Well, as you may know, I don’t truly know how these things work. Maybe I went a little over the top,” he announced. “I feel weird being surrounded by all these women.” 

“Are you really, though?” Lizzie nudged Rachel, who was definitely not happy to be there.

 Tom blushed, clearing his throat. “Anyway, uh--” 

Y/N glared at Lizzie. “It’s amazing, Tom, thank you.” 

“I had to do a little research, because I thought initially this was supposed to be the bachelorette party… And I didn’t have time to cancel the strippers!” 

Anna, y/n’s mom’s eyes widened. “Tom!” 

He laughed. “No, I’m joking, I’m joking… But with uh, the little research I made, the bridal shower is to…” Tom gulped. “Support the marriage and celebrate the bride,” Tom said looking at y/n. “The beautiful and most amazing bride.” 

Y/N chuckled and mouthed a thank you to Tom. 

“Enough of this,” Lizzie yelled. “Let’s play the games.” 

“Well, I thought it’d be a good time to quiz all of us on knowing the bride,” Tom smirked. “I’m gonna pass some… questionnaires and we will see who knows her the best, we will also be competing against the groom,” Tom laughed. “Who was kind enough to send his answers by text.” 

They laughed and started filling it up. 

Y/N looked at the questions, and bit her lip. There was no way in which Miguel could’ve answered all of them right. Probably, the only one who could really answer them all was… Tom. 

“Well, let’s start, an easy one, okay?” Tom grinned. “Uh, where did the bride and groom meet each other?” he asked. “Y/N, love, mind checking my answers while I check Miguel’s?” 

Y/n smiled at Tom. “Mexico, when I was stuck in a rainstorm.” 

Tom grinned. “Who got that one correct? Check all your answers then. And let’s see, Miguel got that one correct.” 

“Wait, uh, Tom… “Lizzie intruded. “I’ll… ask the next one, and we can keep asking them.” 

Tom shrugged. “As you wish.” 

Lizzie looked down. “What’s y/n signature drink?” 

“Iced coffee…” Y/n answered. “But…Pink mimosas if we’re talking alcohol,” she chuckled, winking.  

Tom chuckled. “And… the groom’s answer was… Beer and… Tequila” Tom raised his eyebrows. “I think Miguel thinks he’s dating me, instead.” 

Y/N chuckled. “Okay, to be fair with him, back in Mexico, I did only drink just that,” she admitted. She looked down at Tom’s answer. ‘Iced coffee, except when it’s cold, then hot cocoa, and pink mimosas if it’s alcohol’. Y/N gulped. 

They continued with more questions, some of them Miguel guessed correctly, but most of them he didn’t. However, each question, Tom had guessed it correctly and with all the ‘buts and whys’ answered right beside it. He knew her, entirely. And she had kept drinking from her champagne while either of her friends refilled her glass. 

“What’s her go-to karaoke song?” Y/N’s mom asked after a few questions. “Easy, I can answer it, Dancing Queen!” 

“While that answer is partly correct Anna,” Tom chuckled. “That’s only when she’s sober.” 

Y/N blushed embarrassed. Her mother stared at y/n chuckling. 

“Oh yes, her rendition of Toxic, might be the best I’ve seen,” Hannah laughed. “The choreography.” 

Y/N laughed, embarrassed. She was still sober enough to know she wouldn’t need to perform it. That didn’t mean she would. 

“I’ve got to differ,” y/n answered. “While both of those options are correct… Tom was the one who guessed it fair and square,” Y/N chuckled awkwardly as she stared at his answers. Her three go-to karaoke songs were there. 

“You all missed ‘You’re the One that I want’ from Grease,” Tom laughed watching her. “Shall we?” He asked as he looked for his phone, and searched for the song. “No, no, I’m not doing it,” Y/N laughed, while their friends cheered. 

“Oh my god,” Anna giggled. 

Tom stood up, reaching for y/n’s hand. “C’mon,” he said before starting the song. The piano gave y/n’s chills. 

She smirked. “Tell me about it, stud,” she said. 

The rest of the party continued, after y/n’s and Tom’s performance, it suddenly got more interesting. But nothing too weird, Tom hadn’t really done anything wrong and y/n was just waiting for him to hook up with one of her friends. He didn’t. He hadn’t even flirted with them, he had only smiled and listened to them, but no flirting. He had remained incredibly decent and had only paid attention to y/n. Maybe, y/n thought, he was no longer afraid to flirt with her because he thought that y/n wouldn’t fall because she was engaged. Little did he know that was the bigger problem. 

The questionnaire had remained on her head, for the rest of the party. Miguel hadn’t been able to answer most of the questions. His answers had been incredibly naive and basic, while Tom’s were on point, as that question about her favourite movie in which he answered: ‘She says her favourite movie is Death Poet Society, which it is, but The Princess Diaries might be her actual favourite.’

But the party ended, it had been perfect. And y/n wasn’t sure if had been the recent conversation she had had with Lizzie, or if it actually was themed to that night. Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. The pizza, the Toblerone, the Harry Potter things and the blankets. Maybe it was her imagining stuff. 

That didn’t impede her, of course, from booking her flight to Monday that very next monday. She hadn’t told Tom. But she had asked him to go shopping the next day with her, with Lizzie’s idea still roaming on her head. Hooking up with Tom one last time before she got married. As a cleanse. But it wouldn’t make any sense. 

Besides, she needed to know where he was in that situation, which brought her to the next day after the party, Saturday, only two days before her flight. A stupid decision, really, to bring him over to check on some ‘clothing’. She had stalled, because she really didn’t want to see it. 

However, Tom had been perfect. A perfect maid of honour, he had asked been her confidant, asking if she was actually ready to do all of this. 

Tom had been particularly quiet and seemed to have his head elsewhere, but he was still there. 

They were walking past the particular shop wanted to visit. Victoria Secret. 

“I need to check the lingerie,” she sentenced as she dragged him to the shop. Tom turned red. 

“What?” 

“For the wedding night!” Y/N chuckled, seeing him turning tense.

“Well, check it with Liz! Or Hannah! Not with me,” Tom coughed, awkwardly. “No.” 

“Are you crazy? You’re the perfect person for this job! Who’s taken more lingerie than you?” She laughed as she walked over to see the babydolls, and the teddy’s. 

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. “Fair point.” 

He followed after her. 

“Let’s put your whoring to some use,” she laughed. 

Tom followed after her. He was sweating. 

“You get nervous around underwear?” Y/N teased. 

“I can’t be recognized here,” he mumbled. “Especially not with an engaged woman,” Tom reminded her. 

Y/N laughed. “Ah, please, people know we’re just friends.” 

“Are we,” he mumbled, but y/n chose to ignore it. 

She kept going through the racks as Tom tried to ignore her, scrolling through his phone, texting, until y/n walked into the fitting room. 

“So, have you talked to… Miguel?” Tom asked as he strolled in front of the room. 

“Yes, yes, I...can’t wait to see him again. 

“Of course,” Tom answered. “Well… Uh, yn? I have to thank you.” 

“Me? I should be thanking you… the bridal shower was incredible,” Y/N told him as she put on one of the red teddy’s she had chosen. 

“Right… But I have to thank you, for well, asking me to be your maid of honour, yeah… it’s gonna sound crazy, but you’ve really opened my eyes to the whole idea of marriage.” 

Y/N stayed quiet, thinking about the ring she had found in his drawer. She faked a laugh. “Right.” 

“I mean it,” he said. 

“Have… you met someone Tom?” She asked him, not wanting to hear a very specific answer. 

“No.” 

“Then how can you be serious? I mean, would you buy a ring without having a girlfriend?” Y/N questioned. 

He sighed. “I don’t know I just…. I don’t know.” 

Y/N bit her lip, before she walked out of the fitting room, slowly, staring into his eyes.

 He chuckled as he sat down. “Well?” 

She smirked as she batted her eyes before walking out with a pink and black corset, tied to the black pantyhose she was wearing. 

She walked over in the sexiest way she could, with a slow pace and a lascivious look, seeing Tom getting red and flustered. His mouth opened in awe as she smirked before twirling a finger around her hair. 

Tom’s eyes couldn’t be more opened as y/n saw him practically undress her with his sight. 

“Well, you think Miguel will like it?” She popped the question. 

Tom suddenly shook his head and coughed. “No.” He looked away. Before chuckling and walking over. 

“It’s… just…” Tom giggled. “Cute.” 

Cute? He had basically already eaten her three times with the glance he had given her and he said it was cute? 

“Cute? I don’t wanna look cute on my wedding night!” Y/N complained. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s how you’ll look, you’re… cute, y/n,” He gulped. “Maybe try something else.” 

Y/N sighed, before getting back to try on more. 

Eventually, she decided on one, even if Tom wasn’t convinced. This had been the first time he wasn’t all supportive of everything, but he seemed flustered. 

Y/N had insisted on going to the bakery, where she wanted to talk alone with him, she was finally telling him. 

“So… why did we come today? It’s Saturday? Are we seeing more wedding stuff related, tomorrow? We’re still up for brunch, right?” 

“Tom… No, it’s… it’s my last day in London.” 

Tom blinked. “What?” 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but… I didn’t know how I’m… I’m moving to Mexico with Miguel and I… Tomorrow’s my last day in London.” 

And it was probably her last Sunday with Tom.

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

tag list   @clairesrainbow @underoosmarvel @wronglanemendes  @itsvianny   @jake-and-amy-are-married @starlightfound  @thespiderdweeb  @kill-the-stereo @originalpinkpowerranger @spidxrparkxr @mukesnugget @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @organicpurplepants @happywolves81  @nedthegay @skylar-mendes​  @sentimentalquackson  @savannah0111​ @spidermansmj14 @soccerstud004​ @marinaabernardii​ @applenter​ @silver-winter-wolf​    @dark-infernal-instruments​ @claredolphinbear24​ @bookgirlunicorn​  @tomshufflepuff​ @avengersgirllorianna​ @alwaysbenhardysgirl​ @saintlavrents​ @herofiennestiffinashardinscott​.  @tomzfrog​ @tohollandback​ @morganhoran1671​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​  @everythingbooknerd​  @xapham​ @xxtomxo​ @gioandreolli​ @tomhollandisagod​ @danicarosaline​ @laurfangirl424​ @vintageroses1014516​ @cinnamon-roll-peter​   @the-lost-fairy-tale​ @lala-florez​ @fufaation15 @healthyassdonut​    @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo​ @socorroann​ @muffinmari25​   @cassindeansass  @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious​ @southsidespidey​ @nathaliabakes​ @hollandslut​ @marvelstuck​ @embrace-themagic​ @bradfordbantams​ @sanniegirl1214​ @gioandreolli​  @peterpandco​ @fairytaleparker​ @underooling​ @griff1ndor​ @chubby-cheek-calum​ @thatweirdomimic​ @avengersgirllorianna​ @reginalaufeyson-holmes​ @better-daisy​ @yeahimcrying​ @allmonstersxarehuman​ @spider-manholland​ @clairesrainbow​ @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes​ @kissingtrutharchives​  @snoopy3000​ @prettymessygurl​ @spideyparkerstark​ @fanfic-4-you​ @lexshead​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @mannien​ @stretchkingblog97​

[cal-puddies]

meet fletch || pt. 8 || ashton irwin

meet fletch || pt 1 || pt 2 || pt 3 || pt 4 || pt 5 || pt 6 || pt 7

“You three look so handsome.” You say, admiring Cal, Ash and Fletch in their suits for Ashton’s upcoming wedding. 

It’s been a busy two years. Ash and Kay Kay broke up pretty soon after you and Fletch moved to LA. Ashton met Emma on a soul searching trip to Nashville and he instantly liked her. 

He talked her into moving to LA after 6 months and then proposed a year later. She was a great partner for you and Ash to have with Fletch and she was great with him, she also became one of your best friends. 

“We clean up.” Cal laughs.

“Alright. I’ve gotta get to the dress fitting. Fletch are you staying at Dad’s tonight or with Cal and I?” You ask, fixing his tie. 10 year old Fletcher was the spitting image of his father at that age, except he wore his natural curls instead of spiking it straight like Ash had done. 

“I’m gonna stay with dad, if that’s ok?” He checks. 

“Fine by me.” You look to Ash and he nods. “Let me know if we need to pack anything for you.” 

You were leaving for Nashville for the week the next morning. Emma was insistent she get married in her hometown and Ashton was gonna give her anything she wanted. 

You and Cal had bought a house after about a year and a half together, putting the two of you at about 3 years now. 

His ‘I love you’ slipped out while you were visiting them on their writing trip and you guys got drunk together. You knew Cal uttering those words was important. And you said it back. 

“I will.” Fletch smiles, “love you mom.” 

“Love you too bub, be good for Cal and Dad.” You warn and kiss his head. You lean over and kiss Ash on the cheek and Cal pulls you into a full on kiss and murmurs “love you” before letting you go for your own fitting. 

You head for the door and Cal turns to Ash and Fletch. “I have to talk to you guys about something and Ash I’m sorry I don’t want it to take away from you and your day.” He sighs, “but I wanna do it soon. I promise it won’t affect your wedding. I want to propose. Fletch you are an awesome kid and I love your mom so much, it’d mean the world if you were cool with it.” Cal appeals to Fletch. 

“Of course Cal; id love for you to be my pops.” Fletch hugs him. 

“Don’t call him Pops, it’s disrespectful.” Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“If he wants to call me pops, let him.” Cal laughs. “Ash?” 

“Of course, couldn’t think of anyone better to have be apart of this,” Ash hugs him next, “you’re incredible Cal, you know I think that of you. And you make her happy and you’re good to Fletch. I love this.” 

And that was that. 

Fletch thrived with two men of influence in his life, and it was a lot easier to be partners than enemies when it came to being a parent so having Ash and Emma on board with all decisions made it that much easier to co-parent. 

Cal comes home to you at the kitchen island with a glass of wine. “Whatcha got there?” He asks, filling the glass you’d left out for him. 

“Ash’s wedding gift.” You say, holding it up to show him the amended birth certificate with Ashton Irwin listed as the father, and the legal documents to officially change Fletch’s last name to his. 

Not a single soul questioned whether or not fletch was Ashton’s when he’d finally gotten to tell about 6 months before he met Emma. He was right and it had completely rocked you and Fletcher’s worlds to now have that much attention when you did anything normal, but you worked through it. 

“He’s gonna love that.” Cal says, wrapping an arm around the front of your shoulders and pushing his lips to your head. 

“Well, it’s about time,” you murmur. “Did y’all have a nice afternoon?” You ask. 

“Oh no! Emma is getting to you! ‘Y’all’,” he mocks. “Yes we did.” 

You chuckle and kiss his forearm. “What do you think, trash tv and packing?” You ask, turning to him. 

“I was hoping to get you naked.” He pouts. 

“Maybe after we pack?” You kiss his stuck out lip, “or, no fletch so we can just see what happens.” You shrug, grabbing the bottle and heading toward the bedroom. 

But Cal’s better than that and you’re naked with your fingers in his hair before the suitcases even came out. 

Emma grins wide when you and Cal meet the three of them at the airport. You were flying private, so it was a little easier than normal to fly. She gives you a big hug and then steals Cal away. 

“Um, the boys told me you were gonna propose and you thought you could keep it from me?!” She asks him, making sure you were out of ear shot. 

“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, I needed to make sure that Fletch was on board and Ash too, and then I didn’t want it to be over your wedding either…” he explains, shrugging. 

“Hood, are you kidding me! This is incredible news! I want to hear all about what you have planned.” 

“Nothing yet. I’ll know the time is right.” He admits. “I don’t think she needs the grand gesture.” 

“More than that, she wouldn’t want it.” Emma smiles at him, “it warms my heart that you know her so well.” 

He rolls his eyes and feels your arm slip around his waist. “Hey my love.” He murmurs. 

It was just the five of you, Mike and Crystal coming a couple days later and Luke and Sierra were already there. 

“Emma! Do you think Mason will be there?” Fletch asks, referring to her nephew who was the same age. 

“He will be!” She confirms, “which reminds me, my sister offered to watch Fletch for the week, so he can stay with Mason if we’re all ok with that.”

“Liz is crazy if she wants both of them.” You laugh. 

“You and Cal handled it when they came to visit.” Emma points out. 

“I still don’t know how.” You laugh. 

You and Cal get dropped at your Air bnb, which is on the same block as the house Ashton and Emma bought in Nashville. They take Fletch since Mason and Liz are picking him up from their place. “I like the idea of us being alone all week.” You smirk. 

“You ever get enough of me?” Cal smirks. 

“No, thank god for it too.” You laugh. 

“Yeah… I like you naked and begging for me.” He admits. 

“Usually the other way around, isn’t it?” You laugh. 

“In your dreams bubba.” He chuckles, pulling your in for a kiss. 

You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and murmur “only in my best, dirtiest dreams.” You chuckle. 

“I’m willing to dedicate time to explorin’ those.” He murmurs back, pulling your hips against his and leaning you back. Your arms wrap around his neck. 

“I let you... when you bring them up.” You bite his plump bottom lip and pull it between your teeth. 

“I’ll never understand how you absolutely trust me with the living human that’s the most important to you in the entire world, but you won’t trust me with a little wet dream.” He pecks your lips and lets you go, sitting on the bed. 

“Well when you put it that way.” You laugh, closing the space between you two to straddle him. 

Cal grins at you, his hands slowly move up your thighs, and then they are on your ass. He squeezes. He’s found out, on no admission of your own, that squeezing, spanking or rubbing on your ass were always a definite yes for you. You loved it. You rest your head on his shoulder and nuzzle your nose against his neck. 

His lips trail up your neck to just beside your ear. “I wanna taste you, and then I wanna rail you.” He admits, nibbling your earlobe. You let out a little whimper and it’s all the assurance Cal needs that you want it too. 

The next thing you know, you’re sprawled on the bed Cal’s strong arms are wrapped around your thighs and you are moaning obscenely with fingers curled into his hair, heals pressed to his back. 

“Love when you’re loud,” he murmurs. “Know you’re close… let it go.” He coaxes. 

“Cal!” You whine, as his tongue teases your clit a little. “Holy fuck… want you to fuck me from behind.” 

“I will. I want to so bad baby… but you gotta cum.” He demands. His thumbs pull your lips apart and his tongue lightly teases your clit until you give him what he wants. Pulling his hair and moaning out his name. “There it is. Thank you,” He grins, releasing your thighs and kissing up your belly to your mouth. Your hands push into his boxer briefs and slowly start to jerk him. “My favorite girl.” He grins into another kiss. “You work me so well.” 

“Better be your only girl at this point Hood.” You chuckle, giving his cock an extra tight squeeze, then pushing his underwear off his hips. 

“When would I have time for another girl?” He chuckles, kissing you again quick before grabbing your hips and flipping you over. 

“Valid point. I do keep you pretty busy.” You wink over your shoulder at him. 

“And so very satisfied.” He confirms, kissing your shoulder. You push your hips up, getting your ass in the air and Cal settles on his knees behind you, he runs his hands over your ass and the back of your thighs before lining up. “Ready?” He asks. 

“Very.” You nod. Cal pushes in and is met with a moan from you. “fuck… I love you.” You look over your shoulder at him. 

Cal chuckles, “I love you too… but hopefully that’s not just for my cock.” 

“I’ll admit, it’s a nice, big, added bonus.” You smirk and it’s met with another chuckle. He smacks your ass and it’s met with whimpers. 

In the thick of it, Cal’s phone rings and he loses his rhythm a bit.. “wait babe…” he says. 

“Calum… you are literally balls deep with two fingers in my ass… if you go answer that phone you will regret it.” You warn. 

“Fair enough. I can call back.” He admits. His final few thrusts a few minutes later are hard and push you forward, pushing your face into the pillows as you moan for him and squeeze around his cock. He holds your hips and pushes his hard against yours. He collapses on top of you and presses kisses all over your shoulders and neck while you both catch your breath. “I love how hard you cum when you let me finger you ass.” 

“I love that you didn’t get freaked out when I said I wanted to try it.” You admit, laughing. You reach back and splay your fingers in his hair. “Also love you on top of me when we finish. It feels so personal.” You whisper. 

“It’s very personal.” He agrees. “I just need to be close to you.” He sighs, “but I’m open to anything baby, so you ever have one of those fantasies you wanna try. Just let me know.” He kisses your cheek and rolls off of you onto his back beside you, pulling you in close, smoothing your hair on your head. 

Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and Cal grabs both, holding yours up first. “What is it?” You ask. 

“Ash and Em wanna take us to dinner tonight.” 

“Why?” You whine. “Fine… s’pose we gotta eat sometime.” 

“We don’t have to babe. We can order in or go out and grab something ourselves.” He laughs. 

“It’s fine. Let’s just do it.” You groan. 

“Mmkay… he said they’d be here at 530. We should shower.” Cal says softly. 

There wasn’t an inch of your body you didn’t want Calum to know or touch, so he was comfortable helping you clean out any lingering cum, and making sure he got the lube cleaned from your ass. 

And then you were half dressed and putting on makeup, Cal’s next to you trying to do something with his hair. “Would you have wanted to meet me earlier, before ash?” You ask, blending out some eye shadow. 

“I never would have been ready for you earlier than when I met you. Not mature enough to understand Fletch’s role in your life, or the One Ash would come to have. Even if it was before Ash, I never would have been able to keep you.” He admits. 

You stop what you're doing a minute and look over at him, smiling. “I love you. I don’t know what I expected you to say to that, but that wasn’t it and it was perfect.” 

He stops fussing with his hair and grabs your hips to turn you to face him. “Here’s what I do know: if everything stopped tomorrow… if I couldn’t do music, if I had you and fletch, that’d be enough. It’d be more than enough.”

You make a big pouty face at him and he kisses your bottom lip, “we have 15 minutes, I’m gonna need you to find a shirt.” 

“Let’s stay in and go round two.” You quirk an eyebrow. 

“No… we already said we’d go… I’d love nothing more than to give you hours and hours exploring our dirty minds. But it’s important for us to celebrate them this week.” Cal insists. 

“I know.” You push against him and cal kisses your head. 

He gently drums on your butt, “let’s move it little lady.” You quickly finish your makeup and pull a shirt on, and a pair of heels. Cal grabs your leather jacket as you put things in your bag. “You ready baby cakes?” 

“Yeah. You look handsome.” You say, giving him a once over. 

“Gotta look my best to stand next to you.” He chuckles, holding your jacket out for you to put on. You slip it on and lean up to kiss him, and then Ash and Emma are there. 

Dinner is uneventful. But Cal buys a round of shots. And then Ash does, and then you’re moving onto another bar, and Luke and Sierra join you. And before you know it, you’re tipsy, but so is everyone else. You’re sipping your drink and you look at Ashton who’s seated next to you. “I wanna tell you something.” 

“What is it?” He asks, his tipsy energy matches yours. 

“I wanna marry Cal.” You giggle. 

“Wait!” Luke turns to you, “did you just say?” 

“Luke stop eavesdropping!” You hit his shoulder. “It’s a secret.” 

“I won’t say a word.” He promises. 

But ash is staring at you with a big grin on his face, and he pulls you into a hug. “Yes I love this. I support it… I honestly thought you’d never get there.” 

“We’ll revisit, but I’m happy you’re into it.” You smile. Ash kisses your forehead and then Cal’s back. 

“Baby cakes, how ya feelin?” He checks. 

“I love you. I’m very happy right now.” You say, smiling at him. 

“I love you too. You wanna go home with me?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” You nod. Cal holds out his hands and pulls you to your feet. 

“Boo! The party is leaving!” Luke calls. 

“Guys we have the bachelor and bachelorette parties tomorrow. No one needs to get smashed tonight.” Cal reminds the group. 

“Fuck. You’re right.” Ash groans.”ok ok… let’s get an uber. We can come back for the car tomorrow.”

And then you’re home but you’re still in a Cal bliss you can’t quite describe. You’re in his shirt and you’re both having another drink and your hands are always on him, he’s noticed. 

“What’s up?” He asks. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, knotting your fingers into his shirt as you sit on the couch, the tv on. 

“You just… I’m not mad… but you’ve been attached to me all night.” 

You think about it a minute. “I dunno Cal… I just feel really in love with you and I feel like I need to be close and touching you.” Your eyebrows knit together. “I dunno why.” 

“That’s ok. Be as close as you want.” He nods, kissing the top of your head. “What do you want for your future?” He asks. 

“You.” It’s the only answer you have for him. 

Cal looks at you and blinks. “Grab this blanket. Go out back. I’ll be there in a minute.” He says. You do as he asks, but you don’t like it. 

He’s quick and he’s out back with you. He grabs the blanket and holds it around the both of you. “I’ve kinda had this thing on my mind lately… and I wanted to wait… but I already talked to Fletch and Ash about it…” 

“I want to get married.” You blurt out. “To you.” You make it clear. 

“I’m literally proposing to you right now!” Cal says, exasperated. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to say it. I wanted you to know that I feel it too. And that you’re what I look for in my future.” You shrug. 

“Baby.” He coos. “Me and you and fletch. Forever. That’s what you want?” 

“Yeah… yes.” You nod. “Wait! Do you want more kids?” You ask. 

“With you, yes.” He nods. 

“Ok yes!” You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet and trying not to cry. Cal slips the ring on your finger, he knows you didn’t care about the ring. It was the gesture. You didn’t bother looking at it and immediately press yourself into him. 

The next few days are a blur, half from alcohol and half from all the goings on of the wedding. It was hard, you wanted to be exclusively intertwined with Calum, but you both had wedding duties to attend to that took you to opposite schedules. Only passing when you collapsed together on the couch after a long day. 

“I miss Fletch.” You admit. 

“Has he called you?” Calum asks. 

“Yeah… I still just miss him. He’s my baby.” You shrug. 

“I know. I was just making sure because he’s called me a couple times.” Cal admits. 

“We should call him and tell him about the engagement?” You ask. 

“Yes. I haven’t told him. Didn’t want to take that away from you. And I haven’t mentioned it to Ash 

either.” 

“It’s your news to share too.” You shrug. 

“Not to them. My family yes… but not those two people. Emma is gonna be so stoked too.” He chuckles. 

“I don’t wanna take away from their day.” You admit. 

“Speaking of, were gonna have long days with the wedding tomorrow.” He mentions. 

You let out a sigh and grab your phone, FaceTiming Fletch. He answers quickly, “did you say yes?” He asks. 

You chuckle and hold up your hand, showing the ring, Cal beaming in the background. “She did.” 

“Wanted you to hear it from both of us.” You smile. 

“Good. Thank you. I’m so excited.” Fletch grins and you again see so much of Ash in him. 

“I got lucky with you, kid.” You admit. 

“Love you mom, Cal.” He grins. 

“Love you.” You both say, “goodnight.” 

The next day is stressful, but you forget about it as Emma hands you a mimosa and a breakfast sandwich as someone twists your hair up the way she wanted it. “You have news for me.” She says, not asking. 

“Cal proposed.” You say quietly, so none of the other bridesmaids you didn’t know that well could hear. She holds her hand out and you quickly twist the ring. “I’ll take it off for the wedding.” You promise. 

“You won’t!” She insists. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you two. How did he do it?” 

“I cut him off and did it first…” you admit, scrunching your nose. “I’ve just been really feeling it this week. So so in love and being around all the wedding stuff and seeing you and ash.” You explain. “We were just on the deck after we went out the other night.” 

“It’s perfect for you guys. So natural.” She grins. 

And then it’s late in the afternoon, everyone is dressed and you slip out with the papers for Ash. You find the room the guys are in, and Luke opens the door, he grins wide and pulls you into a hug, whispering a ‘congrats’. 

“Hey.” Ash says, looking at you, “what are you doing here?” 

“Uhm. Fletch and I have something for you and we wanted to give it to you early, so it didn’t get lost in the shuffle.” You explain, stopping in front of him. Fletch comes to stand next to you and Cal walks back in at that moment.

You hand the Manila envelope to Ash and he pulls it open. On top is the birth certificate. “You didn’t…?” He asks in shock. 

“It was time.” you nod.

And he flips to the next page and you and fletch watch him read it. “Wait, fletch is taking my last name?” He asks. 

“Yeah, it was his idea.” You nod. 

Ash covers his eyes with his free hand. “I wasn’t planning on crying yet.” He admits. “Thank you guys.” He pulls you and fletch into him. “I love you both so much.” He admits. “This… I couldn’t have asked for anything better.” He admits. 

“Glad you like it.” You grin, pulling back and letting Ash hug his son. 

Cal rests his hand on your back and you look at him, “you look gorgeous.” He whispers. 

“Thank you.” You grin. 

“Let me see.” Ash says, pulling your attention from Cal. You look at him, confused a moment and then he insists “the ring.” You pass over your hand, “incredible job Cal. It’s perfect.” He admits. 

“Thank you.” Cal grins.

“I love this. This day is perfect. My son has my last name, my name is on his birth certificate, my best friend has proposed to a wonderful woman, I’m marrying the woman of my dreams with all of the amazing people I love.” Ash sighs. 

“Ok. I’ve gotta get back. I just wanted you to have this before all the madness.” 

Ash and Emma both make sure there are plenty of pictures of the 5 of you and then you and fletch with ash and also Calum while you’re getting the pictures. 

And then, the party starts. And while you’re trying to stay present in the celebration, you’re living in your love for Cal, your appreciation for the man he’s always been to you, for his never ending patience while you figure things out with Ash, and him being included in fletch decisions. None of it was easy, but he handled it all so well. 

“Come dance with me.” Cal says, approaching you. He holds his hand out and you grab it, and he pulls you and spins you into him, a thing he’s always kind of done for you. 

He keeps you close, he can tell you’re in your head. “Love you.” You murmur. 

“I know.” He kisses your forehead. “I didn’t expect you to have this kind of reaction to Ash getting married.” 

“What reaction is that?” You question. 

“In your head and so totally in love like you are.” 

“I dunno Cal. I dunno what it is. But everything right now…” 

“You don’t need to say it, my love. I know.” He nods. 

The song switches and it’s slower, cal pulls you closer, but Fletch taps on his shoulder. “Hey cal, can I dance with my mom?”

Taglist: @cocktail-calum @1dthewantedlove @september09241994 @youngblood199456 @lustingforwunder @calumsphile @neso-k @rosecoloredash @radmcqueen @justayoungandwisefangirl @itsnotmyblood @slimthicccal @softboycal @lietoash @pushthetide21 @5sosfanficrec @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @therealmrshale

gc tags: @sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @5sosnsfw @angelbabylu @aspiringwildfire @irwinkitten @lashtoncurls @myloverboyash @singt0mecalum

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

wanna be tagged? go here

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, December 14

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince William’s secret cancer crisis

Page 2: Chris Martin is caught between girlfriend Dakota Johnson and ex-wife Gwyneth Paltrow who are both hawking sex toys -- Gwyneth is accusing Dakota of copying her Goop brand and she’s letting Chris know it loud and clear -- Dakota signed on as co-creative director with the sexual wellness brand Maude to launch a line of hip sex products and Dakota’s gotten wind of Gwyn’s whining and thinks she’s being ridiculous -- Chris is proud of Dakota and he feels for Gwyneth but he really wants to be left out of this 

Page 3: Martha Stewart has whipped up a new recipe for romance which is red-hot dates with a string of men ordered up online and she may be 79 years old but she’s still cooking with gas in the dating department -- Martha’s getting more dates now than she ever has and she’s saying it makes her feel younger and hotter than ever but all the guys know the deal that there’s no pressure and no commitment and it’s just for the fun and the good company because Martha’s not looking for a relationship 

Page 4: Just weeks after Blake Shelton popped the question to longtime love Gwen Stefani they have something else to celebrate as Gwen is expecting a miracle baby at 51 -- after years of trying and failing to have a child together new photos show Gwen sporting what looks like a telltale baby bump -- after years of enduring grueling rounds of IVF treatment without any success Gwen had given up hope of being able to conceive again and she and Blake even looked into adopting but their baby dream has come true naturally 

* Reba McEntire’s romance with actor Rex Linn is less than a year old but she’s already driving him crazy -- it was wonderful for the first few months but Reba is so controlling Rex is begging her to give him some space -- Reba wants to be together 24/7 and while Rex loves being with her he’s starting to find her a bit suffocating -- Reba also sees red whenever Rex mentions his former fiancee Renee DeRese and she’s worried Rex is talking to his ex when he’s not around and he has a good relationship with his ex and believes that’s none of Reba’s business 

Page 5: Britney Spears lost her bid to have her father Jamie Spears removed from a controlling role in her conservatorship so she’s spending whatever money she can get her hands on to exact her revenge -- Britney is worth about $60 million and she gets a very healthy stipend from that so she’s going through it like water to thumb her nose at her dad and her recent no-holds-barred trip to Maui to celebrate her 39th birthday was more than a little payback because dropping $50,000 on a birthday trip to Hawaii was a satisfying slap in the face to her dad 

Page 6: Matthew McConaughey is taking his midlife crisis to an all-time high by planning to do a stand-up comedy tour -- after baring his soul in a memoir the 51-year-old star is totally gung-ho about the comedy thing and he’s cleared his schedule and hired a coach to work on his timing and punch up his jokes -- he’s written a lot of jokes and tried them out on his wife Camila and friends but they’re already tired of his cheesy one-liners and dad jokes and fart gags -- Camila wants to be supportive but she can’t fake it and friends wonder if Matthew’s lost the plot and others claim he might get more inspiration is he took up smoking weed again 

Page 7: Grieving Bobby Brown worries he’s cursed after the tragic death of his 28-year-old son Bobby Brown Jr. -- his son’s death follows the deaths of his ex-wife Whitney Houston in 2012 and the couple’s 22-year-old daughter Bobbi Kristina Brown in 2015 -- Bobby has suffered through so much pain in his life and it’s left him feeling like he’s cursed and he’s a loving father who always does the best he can and what’s right for his kids but there seems to be no escaping tragedy -- no foul play is expected in the death of Bobby Jr. but the coroner has yes to release the cause of death but Bobby Jr. seemed fit and healthy and had never been a drug user and was excited about a singing career after releasing his first single in September

* Donny Osmond is heading back to the Vegas strip to do a one-man show without his sister Marie Osmond and she’s fuming over the betrayal -- Marie is still smarting after getting dumped by The Talk and she thinks Donny could have been sensitive enough to at least invite her to join him -- Marie’s jealous co-stars on The Talk drove her off the daytime chat show because they couldn’t handle being overshadowed by her -- Donny will debut his new solo show at Harrah’s in August 

Page 8: Doting Dolly Parton swooped in to save goddaughter Miley Cyrus from a meltdown after Miley trashed her sobriety during a boozy bender -- Miley has been on the wagon for six months after years of indulging in weed and alcohol but the boredom of lockdown pushed her over the edge -- Dolly has been a source of inspiration and strength to Miley during this difficult time and she’s never lectured Miley about her lifestyle only shown her unconditional love and understanding and that’s what Miley’s responded to 

Page 9: Lady Gaga hopes to tango with Brad Pitt and they’re close to making a love connection -- the two have been in deep talks about working on a big-screen thriller and the conversations have turned up close and personal because the two have more in common than people realize -- Brad has always been a huge music nerd and Gaga wants to throw herself into movies in a big way after the success of A Star Is Born -- Gaga is ready to cash out of her latest relationship with businessman Michael Polansky because they quarantined together and things got a little too close for her tastes and she’s now set her sights on Brad who recently became unattached after giving the brush-off to German model Nicole Poturalski -- Gaga’s interest in Brad has not gone unreciprocated because Brad is fascinated by Gaga saying she’s cool and talented beyond words and he’s made it clear she’s his number one choice to star alongside him in next movie and as a result the new duo is set to spend months together in Japan filming the racy thriller Bullet Train and they both think that this will be a great opportunity to see if the chemistry they’ve shared in conversations is real 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Julia Garner filmed her role as a phony heiress in Inventing Anna in NYC, Gary Busey picked up a copy of the National Enquirer at a Malibu newsstand, Jay-Z tossed around a football with pals during a Hawaiian getaway, Heidi Klum shot Germany’s Next Top Model in Berlin 

Page 11: In the latest tragedy to strike the Getty dynasty 52-year-old John Gilbert Getty was found dead in a Texas hotel room -- he was a descendant of J. Paul Getty the oil tycoon who was once the world’s richest man -- the Getty fortune is worth an estimated $5 billion but the family has been rocked by a string of tragedies 

* Gutsy Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman kept his colon cancer diagnosis secret from his own brothers Derrick L. Boseman who is a pastor in Murfreesboro in Tennessee -- but when Derrick called Chadwick to congratulate him on his career the actor broke the tragic news -- Chadwick’s last words to him still echo in his heart: Chadwick said, “I’m in the fourth quarter and I need you to get me out of the game,” which Derrick understood to mean it was time for him to go -- Chadwick died on August 28 

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- the scrawny look of the holiday tree at Rockefeller Center revealed something that happens every year -- the tree is always filled with faux branches because that’s the only way the tree can sustain 50,000 LED lights

* Marie Osmond hasn’t spoken to Sharon Osbourne since she left The Talk because Marie and Sharon were professional but never friends

* Scarlett Johansson is worth $165 million while her new husband Colin Jost tops out a $6 million but despite the difference Colin bought both wedding rings -- some men may be intimidated by a wife who’s rich and famous but not Colin and paying the bills is something the two have worked out together

* Woody Harrelson chats with police after a day filming The Man from Toronto in Ontario (picture) 

Page 13: Conan O’Brien is putting on a happy face on his retirement from late-night TV but he was forced out -- after nearly three decades hosting a daily show Conan announced he’s leaving his TBS talker for a weekly variety series on HBO Max but he knew he had to go even before he was asked because he was made aware months ago that his show would not be renewed because the ratings weren’t great and the network was looking to replace him so he started looking for other opportunities 

* Lizzo wailing about the pitfalls of fame in an emotional TikTok post has sent out the alarm among her friends who fear she is days away from a full-on meltdown -- she seems to be hanging by a thread and is trying to numb the pain with endless cycles of comfort eating and she already weighs 350 pounds -- Lizzo’s unhappy with her weight and hates the sight of herself when she looks in the mirror but she’s unable to stick to a diet and ends up binge eating through the night 

Page 14: Crime 

Page 15: Emboldened by his legal victories last year accused sexual abuser Kevin Spacey is denying all the allegations in a 2020 lawsuit in New York against him and demanding the case be brought to trial so he can clear his name -- Kevin is feeling pretty confident after two sexual harassment cases against him in Los Angeles and Massachusetts were dismissed last year and he wants his day in court to prove he is not the monster these charges paint him to be -- in the September suit two male accusers charged Spacey sexually assaulted them when they were 14 and the first accuser alleged Spacey assaulted him on multiple occasions after they met in an acting class in the ‘80s -- in the same suit actor Anthony Rapp charged Spacey invited him to a party at his home and grabbed his buttocks and lifted him onto a bed and lay on top of him

* Serial killer Ted Bundy relived the details of one of his horrific killings in his final conversation before he was fried in the electric chair in 1989 -- Bundy who was convicted of killing 30 women and suspected of doing the same to many more across four states in the 1970s and ‘80s spilled his guts to a psychologist just hours before his execution death and it can be heard in its frightening entirety on the Crimedoor app -- Bundy details the murder of Georgann Hawkins 

Page 16: Accused Jeffrey Epstein madam Ghislaine Maxwell is under quarantine in a federal pen after being exposed to a guard with COVID-19 and now sources fear she could die before facing justice on child sex trafficking charges next year 

Page 17: Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton’s kids are devastated after their best friend Lupo the family dog passed away -- the beloved dog had become a fixture in family photos but sadly died at age nine leaving Prince Louis and Princess Charlotte and especially Prince George enormously upset -- for George especially this is a tremendous upset as Lupo was his best friend and he has been there his entire life and this is his first experience with loss and he’s been crying nonstop and asking where Lupo is now 

Page 18: American Life 

Page 19: Russia is using a brain-frying microwave weapon to target American envoys in the U.S. and around the world -- a team of doctors and scientists at CIA headquarters determined the mysterious illness that’s plagued embassy workers in recent years was the handiwork of a weapon that can send a mind-scrambling sonic beam through windows and walls from two miles away -- since 2018 the weapon has zapped 26 diplomats in Cuba who reported suffering from migraines and ringing in the ears and dizziness and vertigo -- Some has longer-term effects such as fatigue and loss of vision and difficulty sleeping symptoms dubbed the Havana Syndrome 

* Elon Musk is already designing posh planetary digs for residents of his future city on Mars and he said the first million Earthlings to arrive will live in glass domes -- Musk’s outer-space enterprise is still a little sketchy on details of how to ship a million people to Mars by 2050 and change the atmosphere by terraforming or planting the right stuff to create oxygen 

Page 21: American Pie singer Don McLean’s daughter has blasted him as a verbally abusive tyrant who left her with deep psychological scars -- Jackie McLean claimed her father insulted and degraded her and forbade her from following in his musical footsteps and even threatened to exclude her from his $50 million fortune if she spoke out against him -- despite her dad’s warning Jackie has embarked on a musical career with her husband Shawn Strack forming the group Roan Yellowthorpe

Page 22: Hey, Big Spender! Hollywood’s tippers and tightwads -- Jessica Simpson, Mick Jagger, Rachael Ray, Taylor Swift 

Page 23: Russell Crowe, Donnie Wahlberg, Jeremy Piven, Johnny Depp, Bill Cosby 

Page 25: Justin Bieber is questioning his future in the scandal-scarred Hillsong church after his former pal and pastor Carl Lentz was booted out in disgrace -- the singer has long relied on Hillsong which some have branded a cult and Lentz to help him navigate fame -- Justin’s at a crossroads right now because he definitely felt betrayed by Carl and now he and his wife Hailey Bieber are deciding whether to stay with the church 

Page 26: Viola Davis has revealed how growing up poor in Rhode Island affected her self-worth saying what comes with poverty is invisibility and we just want to be somebody desperately -- Viola says her feeling of I’m Important helped drive her career which has led to an Oscar and two Tonys and an Emmy 

* Hollywood Hookups -- Vanessa Hudgens is dating Cole Tucker of the Pittsburgh Pirates, Jordan Fisher and Ellie Woods married, Luann De Lesseps dating Garth Wakeford 

Page 27: Nicole Kidman has revealed there is only one cure for her desperate struggles with loneliness which is in the arms of husband Keith Urban -- Nicole said she practices psychological discipline to keep her career and home life separate but isolation still plagues her 

* Dallas star Linda Gray is mourning the death of her son Jeff Thrasher at the age of 56 -- she’s heard from some former Dallas colleagues who have rallied around her and expressed their condolences -- no cause of death for Jeff has been revealed 

Page 28: Cover Story -- Prince William is trapped in a cancer nightmare after medical tests have led doctors to suspect the heir to Britain’s throne may be fighting a slow-moving form of the deadly disease and now the 38-year-old royal and his family are terrified he is in severe danger and medical experts are monitoring his health for any symptoms of the illness -- there’s talk around the palace the prince’s decision to reveal he tested positive for COVID-19 during the spring is really an attempt to explain away his condition because doctors found something funky when they checked for the virus -- if William’s health takes a turn for the worse it could further erode confidence in the monarchy which has already endured Prince Andrew’s sex scandal and the defection of Prince Harry -- when William’s doctors dropped their cancer bombshell his wife Duchess Kate Middleton locked herself away with just their kids for five days and she’s practically had a breakdown but she’s learned to be a royal and is now coping very bravely and confronting the future with steely resolve but she is urging William to mend fences with his estranged brother Harry

Page 32: Health Watch 

Page 36: Jessica Simpson is preparing her windpipes for a post-pandemic musical comeback -- she hasn’t released an album since Happy Christmas a decade ago but wants to storm the pop charts once again and recruit some of her wider family to give her a disco edge because Jessica has always looked up to Diana Ross who is sister Ashlee Simpson’s mother-in-law and Jessica has been bugging Ashlee to hook her up with Diana and she thinks they could do an incredible duet 

Page 38: Paul McCartney has taken a seething jab at a two-faced gold-digging mystery woman in his new song Lavatory Lil but insisted it’s not about his ex-wife Heather Mills 

* Lil Wayne’s ex-girlfriend fears he will go insane behind bars -- the rapper is a convicted felon banned from possessing a weapon and now faces up to 10 years in jail after federal agents in Miami caught him with heroin and cocaine and ecstasy and marijuana and a gold-plated gun -- former girlfriend Melissa Howe says he won’t cope and it took him years to get his life back to normal after his last trip inside so for it to happen again for him to be put behind bars it would really get to him mentally 

Page 42: Red Carpet -- American Music Awards -- Kristin Cavallari, Christian Serratos, Paris Hilton, Dua Lipa, Bebe Rexha, Megan Fox 

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- LeAnn Rimes holding a dog on Hallmark Channel’s Home and Family 

Page 47: Odd List 

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

It’s Right

Monthly Prompts Day 15

August 15th - Self-Help

AU Used: None.

Characters: Miles (OC)

Notes: Eleanor, I know how much you like my Miles content, so I may or may not have added a little something for you!

Song: Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) by Green Day

It was a very last minute decision, leaving his home. Originally, he was going to stick it out and stay until both of his siblings were old enough to leave with him, but after that night, he just couldn’t take it any longer. Living with his father was a nightmare. Miles wrote out letters to his brothers, letting them know that he would be back to visit but that he needed to find someplace safe where he knew he could protect them; a place the three of them could call home away from their father’s control. He left the letters under the boys’ pillows, taking what little he had in his room and taking off in the middle of the night while his father was passed out on the living room couch with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.

He found a map in the glovebox of his father’s car, taking a pen and marking out the path he wanted to take. His plan was to head as far south as he could, stay there for a while and then see if he could find a way to the other side of the country. He wanted to be as far away from his father as possible.

Miles stole his father’s car that night; he didn’t have a vehicle of his own to use as he was not yet eighteen and his father would have to sign for the motorcycle he wanted. Miles had saved up enough money to get him out of town and that was all he was concerned about, really. He stopped at the Georgia Welcome Center not far over the South Carolina-Georgia border, sleeping in the car overnight so he wouldn’t have to spend any money. The next morning, a nice trucker named Robert Wilson had knocked on the window of Miles’ father’s car, checking on Miles to see if he was okay and insisting on buying Miles something to eat for breakfast as he had a daughter around the same age as Miles.

That bacon sandwich had been the best thing Miles had tasted in quite some time.

So make the best of this test and don't ask why. It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time.

The trucker asked Miles where he was going and, after Miles told him he was heading to Florida, insisted on having the teenager follow him down so he wouldn’t get lost. Miles asked Robert where he was heading and the trucker responded that he was heading home to St. Pete Beach after doing a longhaul trip to Minnesota. Miles told the man that he would follow him all the way, if that was where he was heading. Going from one beach to another seemed like a good idea as Miles already knew what to expect from a tourist beach town.

After they finished breakfast, the two men got into their vehicles and took off for Florida.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

It took the pair almost six hours to reach their destination, but Miles couldn’t help but feel elated. It was his eighteenth birthday and he was starting out his adulthood in a different state, four hundred and seven miles away from his father. The only thing that could make it better would be if his brothers had come with him. Miles brushed it off. He knew that he would have them with him again once he had a place for himself and enough room for his two younger brothers. He was old enough to have legal custody of them now, not that the court system would listen to him as he had just stolen a car and taken it over multiple state lines.

That day, at Robert Wilson’s insistance, Miles met the man’s family, consisting of his wife Lilian and their daughter, fifteen-year-old Gianna. Gianna tried her hardest to stay quiet during Miles visit at her house, keeping her nose in a book and barely talking to the older boy at first. By the end of his visit, however, the two seemed to be good friends, having talked about books for the duration of Miles’ time there. Lilian was nice enough to ask if Miles would like to accompany them to the nearby restaurant that had opened about two years prior and was a hit with most of the teenagers in the area. It was at that restaurant - a place on the beach named Big Momma’s - that he met Butchy, a tall, loud, and overall kind biker-boy with a very fake sounding New York accent. Butchy quickly became Miles’ best friend.

The slightly older teenager decided to offer Miles the spare room in the house he shared with his sister Lela. Butchy even got Miles a job at a workshop near a shopping center on Sycamore Close. There had been no openings at the same garage Butchy and his friends worked at, but the thought was there. Miles was welcomed into the friend group with open arms.

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.

By the end of his first year in St. Pete Beach, Miles had made enough money to start looking for a house. With his friends helping him, he was able to get a recently vacated house just two houses away from the trucker that had helped him find a new hometown. Miles sold his father’s car in exchange for the Indian motorcycle he had wanted for years. He started collecting photographs of his new friends, hanging them on his living room walls and putting some on shelves in his bedroom to make it feel more “homey” than it had been originally.

Slowly, but surely he was making himself a new life with new friends and, even better, new family.

Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth it was worth all the while.

After a few weeks of being roped into Butchy’s friend group, a motorcycle group calling themselves “The Rodents,” Miles decided to get a tattoo of the gang’s logo on his shoulder. To him, it symbolized new beginnings and a chance at a happier life. In secret, however, he got another tattoo on his wrist of his brothers’ names, a tattoo he kept covered by a bracelet or a bandana at all times. That tattoo had a separate meaning to Miles as it signified a promise to himself and his brothers.

Miles would get them back, no matter the cost.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

A while later, he fell in love. It hadn’t lasted long as the woman he was with, had to leave after the summer ended. Miles felt as though his heart had been ripped out. He had fallen hard for her. Gianna Wilson, now known as Giggles by her friends, had warned him that it was probably not a good idea. While he hated to admit it out loud, he acknowledged that she was right and forced himself to move on.

Not long after, a girl named Mick showed up and fell in love with his best friend, Butchy. He flirted with her at first, yet found himself seeing her more as a younger sister as he watched her relationship with Butchy grow stronger. Mick and Butchy ended up getting engaged after Mick’s eighteenth birthday. Miles believed that he would end up single forever at that point. He decided he would be okay with that if nothing else happened to change his mind.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

It was around that time, if Miles recalled correctly, that he met her. It had been a rough few days for Miles as his motorcycle had been practically taken hostage by his boss for an extensive list of repairs that would take him forever to pay off. Tanner, one of the surfers that was Butchy’s sister, Lela’s boyfriend, suggested his twin sister, Caroline, could give him a ride to work until his bike was out of captivity.

Initially, Miles wasn’t sure he liked the idea. He wasn’t a morning person at all, but the talkative Caroline didn’t seem to mind much. His coffee-less morning made him snippy and, although he felt bad afterward, he was very short with her on the ride to work that first morning. He had regretted his actions immensely and made sure to apologize when she returned to pick him up from work that evening. Then, after a nice conversation with Caroline on the ride home, Miles found himself enjoying the blonde’s company.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

A while later, his brothers, Royce and Bentley, came to stay with him, having sent him a letter not long before showing up. They had followed in his footsteps, borrowing a family member’s car and taking it the rest of the way to St. Pete Beach. The family member took a plane down to get the car and drive it home, congratulating Miles on taking the two boys in. Miles felt proud of himself for the first time in a long time.

He had his brothers, he had a family with The Rodents, and, to top it all off, he had the woman of his dreams. It may have taken him a little while, but Miles had finally found himself living the life he had always wanted.

Miles never expected his life to become what it was, but at the end of the day, he couldn’t be happier with the outcome.

I hope you had the time of your life.

[teruthecreator]

if you're comfortable, could you say what specifically you hated about the finale? i never got into amnesty but i liked balance so i would like to know how disappointed i should be ://

okay i’m gonna explain this in-detail exactly Once bc i’m trying rlly hard to just forget about the whole epilogue and keep it moving like that shit never happened, so for anyone else who is asking me why i don’t like the finale (and im not saying you’re wrong for asking, anon, it just seems that when you vocally do not like a thing there are hundreds of people who come out of the woodworks to ask you why and i think thats kinda Huh, Weird of everyone but like whatever) i’m gonna lay it all out here on the table and you can take this as you will. 

i’m not gonna be getting into fistfights with people abt this so if you disagree please don’t try and banter with me. i am running on

also, CRITICISM OF ART DOES NOT MEAN CRITICISM OF THE ARTIST. I AM NOT CRITICIZING THE MCELROYS AS HUMAN BEINGS, BUT RATHER THEIR ARTISTIC DECISIONS IN TAZ: AMNESTY. MORE PEOPLE NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT THERE IS A SEPARATION BETWEEN ART AND ARTIST, AND ONCE YOU (AS AN ARTIST) POST A PIECE, IT BECOMES SUBJECT TO CRITICISM. I AM NOT BRINGING GRIFFIN, JUSTIN, TRAVIS, OR CLINT’S CHARACTERS INTO QUESTION; I AM SIMPLY GIVING A CRITICISM ON THE SHOW THEY’VE CREATED AS A WORK OF ART. 

oh, this goes without saying, but i will anyway: SPOILERS FOR AMNESTY (IN GENERAL, BUT ALSO FOR EPISODE 36) 

i’m gonna start off by saying, i don’t think the whole episode was a total disaster. there are two things mainly that have ruined the whole experience for me, but for the most part i thought the like first 2 hours of this episode were a lot of fun! the fight scene was a little bogged down in the rolls imo, but it didn’t deter me too much from the overarching boss battle. the intro was a sick concept, i enjoyed the callback bits spliced in w newly scripted bits from mentioned past encounters, that was all well and good. i loved beacon in the episode, and god do i wish he stayed for the whole thing. 

my problem mainly sits with the epilogue, which is why i think the whole episode turns sour in my mind. because the epilogue is supposed to be what satiates your desire to know more, right? not to reference balance too much (bc these are two completely different stories w different premises, and for people to so readily compare them is kinda wack. that being said, they are two stories made by the same people that use an epilogue to wrap up the loose ends, so im gonna make this one comparison), but the epilogue told us, the listener, all the things we wanted to know about after the day of story of song. we got to know what they did, a little bit of their interpersonal relationships, and we even got a big group scene with the killarey wedding! 

this epilogue, though, feels like it left so much still on the table. one of those things i will swing back to later because it is the largest part of my argument, but after all of this time we still don’t know why everyone at the lodge got exiled! no one talks about it! we don’t know how dani ended up there, or jake, or barclay, or moira, or anyone! they don’t reference the banishments at all, which i think is a huge shortcoming figuring that is the core premise as to why these characters exist in our pc’s world in the first place. 

i also feel like the concept of the worlds being divided for a long time is kind of a dumb way to go about framing what they do After The Fact. like, they could have had those scenes happen without the looming concept of them being divided, especially when their big reunion scene is like 2 minutes long and basically does nothing. what would have been a cooler premise is if billy connected the worlds, and the worlds worked together in rebuilding themselves. we still could’ve had the same bits happen (for the most part), but i just think that whole separation bit kinda alienated the pc’s (especially thacker). 

but everything up to aubrey’s epilogue bit is fine. i have some problems, but it’s fine. where i started to completely abandon the work itself though is duck’s bit, and i’m gonna get into it by saying this: I know Justin Mcelroy is not legally required to make all of his characters gay, but this whole scene was just a big reminder to me that this show is done by 4 straight white men

and yeah, my big problem with this scene is the fact that justin had to make Duck/Minerva a thing. because it adds nothing to the story while also being a very skeevy concept in-general, and it reduces minerva’s character down to the Hero’s Girlfriend trope and it’s so comphet and she doesn’t deserve it. 

my first grievance with this: It adds nothing to the story. 

had justin not even mentioned the relationship part of their interaction before the scene actually took place, this scene would be like every other scene involving duck and minerva prior to this. duck says honey once, and even that could’ve been played off as duck just being affectionate to his friends (which is a thing, i call several of my friends “my love” irl and it isn’t a big deal). minerva doesn’t even use pet names, she calls duck by his full name, which is exactly how she addressed him in every other scene! duck’s speech is a genuine heart-puller, but it was completely soured by the fact that justin had to premise this entire scene by saying duck and minerva are a thing. 

my second grievance: it’s a skeevy-as-all-hell concept. 

this whole premise is nasty seven ways from sunday, and it is my biggest problem with duck’s bit as a whole. for starters, and i think more people need to mention this, minerva meets duck on the night of his 18th birthday. which means duck has literally just stopped being legally considered a minor before minerva appears before him. and honestly, i would still consider duck a minor in this case because he has literally just turned 18!!! his brain has not developed past one of a 17-year-old on the exact date of his birthday, and i argue it will not until he is at least in his twenties. keep in mind, your brain does not stop developing until you are about 25. so while in the legal sense, duck is an adult, in both the mental and emotional sense at that exact moment, duck is still a minor. AND he’s still in high school, as referenced in his response to her call to duty: “i got class tomorrow”. and minerva is old enough to have become the minister of defense for her homeworld, go through an entire war, and have several other chosen ones (including leo tarkesian, who is at least 20 years older than duck) before meeting duck. so that makes her much, much older than duck when she meets him. and i don’t care if they had barely any interaction after that first moment (though they did, as justin legit talks about when he introduces minerva as a concept to the show), that still establishes their initial interaction at a massive age difference. which, regardless of anything, makes their eventual relationship so genuinely messed up. 

sure, you can argue that when you get older age doesn’t make that much of a difference, and i would agree. my mother is 53 and her husband is 63, that’s ten years. but my mother and step mother did not meet at 8 and 18, they met at 50 and 60. the initial interaction makes all the difference between “older people meeting and having a relationship” and “a very messed up situation”. 

also, in this same argument, taking the mentor-student relationship and turning it into a romantic relationship IS SO MESSED UP!!!! GENUINELY AND HONESTLY MESSED UP!!! i feel like i don’t need to explain this because there have been so many examples already as to why this is a relationship you Should Not turn romantic, but i will anyway because it frustrates me so much that justin completely glosses over this!!! the power dynamic of a mentor-student relationship, in whatever way it is portrayed, displays a power balance that is heavily leaning to one side. there is not an equal distribution of power amongst the two because one person is teaching the other. the one person is weak to the others wills and whims because of lack of experience. think of your high school teacher or college professor; if you started a relationship with them, people would raise so many questions because you are not at equals to the teacher/professor. even if they treat you different, and even if they no longer teach you, it all has to do with the initial interaction. and minerva was still duck’s mentor up until either episode 34 or 35, when she handed off the title of Herald of the Astral Mind to duck. that means for nearly all of their interactions, there was a mentor-student dynamic. to have that turn into a romantic relationship is so sketchy and weird and leaves a bad taste in my mouth. 

my third grievance: it reduces minerva’s character down to a girlfriend trope, and it’s comphet as hell 

my friend tin (@taako–waititi) phrased this so well in the big group chat im in w her, so imma just quote her on this and then go into the comphet stuff: 

“i was dming max about it and they also mentioned, quote, ‘her story was never about romance. it reduced her down to ‘competent woman becomes endgame girlfriend’ trope’ and they are so right it makes me fucking pissed. regardless of any ‘mutual respect’ and ‘emotional intimacy’ kind of thing going on that some people are arguing for, it’s something that didn’t need to happen because minerva’s character becomes that. my thing is mutual respect and emotional intimacy between two people can. exist. without it being. romantic. like. friendship is. also valid. i personally don’t think that mutual respect and emotional intimacy are two buttons that you press to make the machine churn out a romance” 

not only does it reduce minerva’s character to tropes, but it also is extremely comphet for a woman who is so heavily wlw-coded or lesbian-coded and it just angers me. you could argue that she could be bi, but if we look at canon for just its face-value, the only romantic interaction she ever has is with a man, which basically makes her straight. this isn’t like aubrey’s situation, where travis clearly states she is a bi woman who is just in a relationship with another woman in amnesty. griffin doesn’t state anything about minerva’s sexuality and then she’s paired off with a man right at the end. and you could argue that she isn’t wlw or lesbian-coded, but i am not the only one who is wlw and thinks this, so i feel like i have more of a ground to stand on in this opinion. and this just feels so, like, textbook compulsory heteronormativity it made me feel physically sick when i heard this bit in the podcast. 

so that’s my first big issue with the finale, fully explained. my second issue with the epilogue is that ned’s death continues to be disappointing and his character arc is never completed, which just tanks the whole show for me. 

i’ve talked about this several times since ep 28 about how ned’s death was stupid and did nothing for his character arc, but i’m gonna reiterate my main points for the people who find this post without knowing my whole blog:

1. ned’s main interpersonal conflicts are just brought to the surface and never fully delved into before his sudden death. ned doesn’t ever get to explain his history with boyd and why he had to steal shade tree to mama or barclay or really anyone besides vaguely to aubrey. 

2. every character is just immediately expected to feel sad about ned’s death, despite the tension that still remains right up until the very end. aubrey shouldn’t have even known that the shapeshifter framed ned because that’s all explained once she goes to sylvain, but i think travis just assumed she did because he heard the interaction between ned, mama, and barclay. so she should’ve had Way more conflicting feelings about the whole thing, but ned’s death is just angst-bait so that doesn’t happen.

3. ned’s death doesn’t make roll sense because clint rolled a mixed success and mixed successes, by definition, are supposed to be less severe moves than a failed roll (which gives the gm the ability to make a hard move). there isn’t really anything harder to do to a character than kill them, but even if you wanted to argue that if clint failed the roll the hard move would’ve been ned failing and letting dani get shot, it still doesn’t change the fact that clint rolled a mixed success when slamming into the pizza hut sign at full velocity and came out of that alive (severely injured, naturally, but still alive). 

so, yeah, there’s that. and then theres the fact that griffin doesn’t ever give us any other scenes involving ned directly. ned only becomes a reference from 28 on, which is so disappointing given ned’s importance to the other two pcs. and i understand that the mcelroys have a lot of trauma related to death, but griffin shouldn’t have killed ned off then if he did not want to talk about death in graphic detail. we all have trauma. we all want to avoid topics. but to kill ned off and then never talk about his death in great relation to the others is a genuine disservice to ned’s character. 

the day episode 28 aired was the same day i buried my grandmother. i would have loved if death wasn’t brought up, but i don’t control the podcast. the mcelroys do; they had the ability to avoid this topic in a more servicing way to the characters and they didn’t. that isn’t to say they are bad people for not doing it, but it makes the finale even more disappointing because it means we never get the full rounding out of ned’s character arc. he becomes this like brief reference that is, once again, angst-bait or emotional fuel and i feel like he didn’t deserve that. he deserved a genuine reference, a genuine moment. even a dream sequence i would have appreciated!!! 

griffin had sylvain directly point at ned in aubrey’s flashback in ep 35, and then did nothing about what that could have implicated in the finale. it sours the entire episode in a major way and disappointed me immensely. there should have been more done with that topic and there wasn’t and i will never forget how deeply it hurt me and turned me away from canon as a whole. not to be ned kin on main, but ned was the backbone of this show and the exact moment he left was the exact moment the whole thing went downhill. it turned less into a story about growth and adversary and amnesty and more into a waiting game for when this very loose end was going to get wrapped up. 

i wanted to enjoy this episode. i tried so hard, y’all. but just the thought of ned loomed over me the entire time and i was waiting for a more proper completion to his arc, and it never happened. and coupled with that very bad and skeevy duck/minerva bit i was just so frustrated and hurt last night. 

so, yeah, that’s my whole spiel. you are free to disagree with me, but keep that opinion to yourself because i’m not getting into it with anyone. i will just block you; it’s better for us both, anyway. 

[clarasimone]

A GREAT Iain Glen Interview

(pic edits by @favor757​)

A really enlightening interview given by Iain Glen after the premiere of MY COUSIN RACHEL by someone who knows how to ask intelligent questions to actors, a rarity !!!!!!!

http://legacy.aintitcool.com/node/78006

Capone talks MY COUSIN RACHEL and Game of Thrones with actor Iain Glen!!!

Published at: June 12, 2017, 10 a.m. CST by Capone

Hey everyone. Capone in Chicago here. The Scottish-born actor Iain Glen has made a career out of playing intense men on stage as well as the big and small screen. After finishing at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London, he went on to appear in a succession of highly touted stage Shakespeare productions, as well as the musical version of "Martin Guerre" and "The Blue Room,” opposite Nicole Kidman. Although I’m sure I spotted him in early film works like GORILLAS IN THE MIST and MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON, the role that first stood out for me was as Hamlet in Tom Stoppard’s 1990 film version of ROSENCRANTZ & GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD, the ultimate statement on the plight of a story’s minor players, with Tim Roth and Gary Oldman in the title roles. I think it’s fair to say that Glen is the living definition of a working actor—always busy, moving effortlessly from television to stage to film. On the big screen, we had memorable roles in SILENT SCREAM; BEAUTIFUL CREATURES (opposite his MY COUSIN RACHEL co-star Rachel Weisz); LARA CROFT: TOMB RAIDER; many of the RESIDENT EVIL films; HARRY BROWN; KINGDOM OF HEAVEN; THE IRON LADY; KICK-ASS 2; EYE IN THE SKY; and the aforementioned MY COUSIN RACHEL, directed by Roger Michell, in which he plays the godfather and estate executor of Sam Claflin’s Philip, who falls in love with his cousin (by marriage) after believing she may have killed the cousin who raised him. Glen has been playing the Irish private investigator Jack Taylor in a series of made-for-television films for all of the 2010s, but he has also had significant roles in such television productions as “The Diary of Anne Frank,” “MI-5,” “Downton Abbey,” “Cleverman,” and most notably as Jorah Mormont on “Game of Thrones,” which begins its seventh season in about a month. Although I would love to do an interview with Glen that covers even a fraction of his dozens of roles, I think we do alright beginning with MY COUSIN RACHEL and moving on to a few other choice parts. We even dig a little into his life since beginning “Game of Thrones.” He was a tremendous interview subject and seems game to talk at length about pretty much everything. With that, please enjoy my talk with the great Iain Glen… Iain Glen: Hi, Steve. Capone: Hello, sir. How are you? IG: I'm very well. How are you? Capone: Good, good. It's funny, I just, last weekend, saw the filmed version of the Old Vic's recent production of "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead,” and it reminded me that, I think, that you were Hamlet in the original film version. That might have been one of the first times I ever saw you on screen. IG: Yeah, you're right. That was Tom Stoppard’s only sort of foray into [film] directing, I think. With young Gary [Oldman] and Tim [Roth]. Capone: Exactly. IG: Which was a ball. We filmed in Zagreb, Yugoslavia. Capone: At that point, in that early part of your film career, you had already worked with Tom Stoppard, Michael Apted, David Hare, and Bob Rafelson—you must have thought you were doing pretty well back in your late 20s. IG: [laughs] Yeah, I did. I'd cross over, sometimes, between theater and film when I started, when I left Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, all those years ago. I did a fair amount of work in the theater and film, and I'd done a play with Tom Stoppard—it was "Hapgood" with Nigel Hawthorne, Felicity Kendal, and Roger Rees, and we got on very well then. He always said, "I'd love to work with you again,” and then [the role of] Hamlet [in ROSENCRANTZ & GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD] came around, and I’d just played Hamlet at the Bristol Old Vic, playing the full Shakespearean role, so it seemed obvious I was up to speed on whatever lines were required of me in ROSENCRANTZ & GUILDENSTERN so it was fun coming into it. Capone: So in this film, most of your scenes are with Sam, and each time the two of you meet, he's in a different frame of mind when it comes to Rachel. I feel like that would have been much easier to do if you had been able to shoot those scenes chronologically. I'm guessing that wasn’t the case. IG: [laughs] Well, that's the art of film, and you get used to it. They never, eever film chronologically, except in very, very, rare occasions, so that's really part of the structure and the work you do as an actor before filming is to know where you are in any given part of the story. That was enhanced by the fact that Roger called a rehearsal before filming for all of us. We were all together for a week and went through it piece-by-piece, so we knew where we were on the journey. Roger is very consummate when it comes to working with actors. He's quite a rare breed. Sam Mendes is another, Stephen Daldry, who've had a great history in theater and done a lot of work with actors in theater, and has a very strong film career as well. But, he always zones in on stories that always offer great performances for actors. It's very reassuring having someone behind the lens whose taste you entirely trust. He does so much of the work for you, in a way. He's very clear about where he wants the story scenes to play out, where actors might be in any given scene. It never feels like a constriction. It's always a liberation, and he's up for change, as well. Other directors can be very confident with the camera and what the camera should do and leave you to your own devices in terms of performance. But, Roger is very nurturing throughout the filming of it. So you're right, I was predominantly with Sam, and I suppose the role, in its simplest sense, he's almost like a Greek chorus. In some ways, I follow the audience's point of view. I'm a benign, rational presence who has Sam's best interests in mind and can see him oscillating wildly as he gets caught by the passion of seeing this very exotic, beautiful creature from another planet who arrives in this sleepy, parochial setting. So, we're all very disconcerted by what Rachel brings to the story, so I'm the voice of reason trying to keep the character that I care a great deal for sane. Capone: It's funny you say that, because, you're right, in the beginning, we are looking at these events through your eyes to a great degree. But once we meet her and are charmed by her, we switch into seeing her through Sam's eyes and are bewitched the same way that he is. IG: Yeah, well I think that's right. And it's a testament to Rachel's performance, because I do think whatever preconceptions this story might lead you to believe before you meet her, she's utterly entrancing and charming when she arrives on screen. So, whatever preconceptions we have get slightly thrown out the window. We forget them, and then they reemerge later in the story when other details and facts come through about the history. But that was Du Maurier's milieu, and Roger did a remarkable screenplay. It's so much easier said than done to turn what is a fairly thin novel—very, very concentrated—into dialogue. You have to turn it into a screenplay where everything is told through the words or between the words. Roger did a great job of that. It’s a psychological thriller. It's all about questions being thrown into the air. Audiences are trying to decipher exactly what's going on, and it's very conscious of Du Maurier to not give you a clean landing. Then you say, "Oh, now I… that's what was happening. Yes, she’s definitely sinister” or “Yes, she was entirely innocent.” By the end of the story, my character, and I think the audience, deep down don't really know. Capone: The one scene that really stuck with me is the one that you and Sam have in which he's basically signing over his life and fortune to her. For your part, it’s an amazing exercise in barely restrained panic. IG: Well, I'm glad you thought so. It was good to play. As an actor, it's always lovely when the story is supporting you so well up to the point where the scene happens. There’s so much there that's been stated or understated, and my character's caught in a predicament of desperately wanting to look after his financial legacy, but not wanting to ruin their relationship. We've all been in those situations where we feel a loved one is making the wrong choices, and how do you offer advice without distancing yourself from them? In a way, people have to make their own mistakes, but it's just that the stakes are so high, because Phillip, the character, is willing to give everything over to Rachel. He just wants to express his love and his conviction by giving her everything, and my character just wants to say, "You can feel what you feel, but you don't need to do this. This is not a step that you need to take.” Yeah, I think that was one of the most enjoyable scenes to play. Capone: It's also the the moment, at least for me, where I remember that you’re his godfather, so that means that you've known him since the day he was born, and it make it that much more heartbreaking. IG: I think that's right, yeah. I've been his legal guardian and, again, just to contextualize, what makes sense in the psychology and certainly makes sense of what happens to the character Phillip throughout is that he's been bereft of a father and mother. He was orphaned and brought up by his cousin, who is also this absent figure who's now abroad and dies earlier in the film. So, he's not grounded in the way that other young men might be. The world of femininity is totally alien to him, so that explains why he oscillates so madly between his feelings of either hatred or love for the woman, because she's so exotic and unknown to him. I think that the world that the Kendall household is such a strong contrast to Phillip's household, which has never known a feminine hand. Capone: You also have a lot of scenes with Holliday Grainger, who plays your daughter and is very quickly becoming one of my favorite young actors. IG: She's gorgeous, isn't she? She's lovely. Capone: Tell me about the interactions between those two characters, because they are co-conspirators for good, we assume. IG: Well, I think in my character's ideal world, in some ways, Phillip and Louise would have been a perfect match, and I don't know, but I felt it when I watched the film, you almost want to scream out to Sam's character, "Please, stop looking that way, look this way because you have this beautiful creature here. She's good, she definitely would be a gorgeous wife and a beautiful mother to your children, and she's willing and uncomplicated." So I think, in my ideal world, that would be the match. But almost beyond that, I feel enormously protective toward Sam's character having been his legal guardian. And it's very painful watching your daughter because you know how much she adores him and wants him to look her way, but you can't impose that upon him, so you get that odd, tentative suggestion, "Would you like to say 'Hello' to my daughter just while you happen to be here, giving your entire life away?" So, yeah, it's a tricky one. And I think that's partly why people love period pieces so much. It's because there's a delicacy of manners and emotion there, a subtlety of behavior where everything isn't exposed. Everything isn't stated so quickly. And, yeah, hopping back to the past, I think people feel, somehow we were subtler humans back then somehow. What we required from each other was just a little more complicated and delicate and human. Capone: I was gonna ask you about that. There’s something glorious about a costume drama where someone is becoming unhinged, and they break through that placid façade that you're supposed to have in those movies. IG: That's right. I do love period films for that. It's worth remembering that Roger -- I don't know if you know this, but Roger Michell did this quite radical interpretation of PERSUASION quite early on for BBC, early on in his career, where he started to use hand-held cameras, which had never been done in period films before, and just messed it up. I think often, we have strong preconceptions about period, about what could or could not be done, which we don't really know, but we just put that on period films. Roger's very good at bringing spontaneity to scenes and losing an archness in the dialogue so there's a freshness to it, and I think MY COUSIN RACHEL has a lot of that. It feels very modern in a lot of ways, even though the world is very period. Capone: You've had a regular gig for the last few years that you have to keep coming back to, and I don't know how that impacts your schedule exactly. But knowing that's always coming around, how much time do you have between seasons of “Game of Thrones” to do other projects, and what sorts of things are you looking to do in those periods where you're not making “Game of Thrones”? IG: Well, it's a funny one. when you sign up for something like “Thrones.” I think when we all initially singed up, it was between three and five years and none of us knew, really, whether it was going to run or whether we were going to survive or how it would be received. You hum and haw about something that does feel a little bit like a sentence when you start up on it, and you have no idea how it's unfolding. But, the more “Thrones” has gone on, just a bigger and bigger treat it's been to be involved, and it's become such a global hit and it's opened up different possibilities. As an actor, if you don't celebrate the stuff when it's a massive hit, then you might as well just give up and do something else. I've loved doing it. HBO has always been very good. As long as you turn up looking roughy as you looked the last time they saw you, and you're there a day before you're required to film—they’ve gotten a little tighter, I have to say, over the last couple of years. It’s gotten so massive, and they want to protect the audiences. Maybe they feel it’s easier to suspend disbelief when they don't see you in competing series elsewhere. But generally, they've been very good about allowing the actors, a lot of the supporting cast and principals from “Game of Thrones,” to do other work. So, more than anything, I will feel a great void and loss when it's gone because it's been a part of my life for pretty much a decade and it's been nothing but good fun. Dan [D.B. Weiss] and David [Benioff] are just the best show runners you could ever hope to work with. It's a lovely, very tight cast, and the storylines are such now that we're all starting to overlap with each other and starting to enter the same scenes. Everything's accelerating towards the end game, so it's an exciting time, but it's nearly gone. Capone: So, are you done shooting? Am I allowed to ask that? IG: [laughs] That’s actually something, yeah ... I can't say, yeah. Capone: The new season starts in a little over a month. Is it a relief to a certain degree when a new season starts airing that you don't have to keep as many secrets? IG: Yes, it is. It really is. [laughs] It's funny, because whenever anyone asks you, you know deep down, they don't want to know. It's a no-brainer. But, for a part of them, it's a bit like a drug or something, “Oh, brilliant. I know! And then now I feel hugely disappointed and now I have a headache because I wish I hadn't done that because now I know.” So you just deny people that possibility. Deep down, people really, really don't want to know. Capone: As serious as some of your roles have been over the years, you always seem to find time for genre work. You were in LARA CROFT. You were in several of the RESIDENT EVIL movies, and obviously “Game of Thrones.” What do you enjoy about going the adventure route? IG: I just really dig the variety. I really dig the change. It's a very, very different working environment if you're in a massive-budget, action-led film. But it's one thing that's always been a benefit of being a British actor. There used to be quite a strong divide between film and TV, particularly in the states—if you were doing TV, it was probably because the film career wasn't quite working out as you hoped it would be. That's never really been the case in the UK. I’m as likely to bump into Judi Dench in a radio studio as I am on a TV series or a film or a piece of theater. We are much more mixed-medium over here. So, I just really enjoy change. I just did a small film with Lena Headey from “Game of Thrones” that was about the refugee crisis called THE FLOOD. It was all hand-held. It was all swiftly shot in three or four weeks. It's a great little story and it’s the total polar-opposite to “Game of Thrones,” and honestly, I enjoyed the difference, and that's the trick. Capone: Before “Game of Thrones,” what did people on the street most recognize you from? IG: Honestly, it varies. It’s quite ephemeral, so it depends what you're in. I've done a series for a while playing an Irish detective, Jack Taylor. If you reappear in something, then that roots people in your mind. In the early days, I did a TV thing, something called “The Fear,” where I was playing a London gangster. It's always a lovely, delightful surprise when some people says, "Aw man, I saw you in 'Henry V' at The Royal Shakespeare Company" or "I saw you doing 'The Crucible' at the Royal Shakespeare Company,” and when I did "The Blue Room" with Nicole Kidman here in New York. But it's mainly TV because it has massive audiences, global audiences, so they tend to be the things that people know you for. I've been lucky enough to land a few visible things over the years, but it changes. But, “Game of Thrones” definitely washed everything to the side. Capone: Other than THE FLOOD, is there any other work coming? IG: I hope to be doing something…I better not say the name, but a Second World War drama, which we're inches away from committing to. And that will probably be in August or September; that's a feature. I'm doing a second season of “Cleverman,” an aboriginal drama that I shot in Australia, and more “Jack Taylor,” the Irish detective, so there's quite a bit coming up. Capone: Iain, thank you so much. It was a really great to talk to you and reminisce about your days with Tom Stoppard. IG: My pleasure. Yeah, thank you. He's about to have a birthday party. I'll get his age wrong [Stoppard turns 80 on July 3], but he's an incredibly lovely, adored man in the theater and he holds these fantastic parties in the Chelsea Physic Garden, and he invited me and my family so that's next week or the week after. I'll be seeing him soon. Capone: Thank you again and best of luck with this. IG: Yeah. Take care, mate. -- Steve Prokopy "Capone" capone@aintitcool.com Follow Me On Twitter

[costazachary1994]

How Can I Legally Get My Belongings Back From My Ex Marvelous Ideas

We are dealing with feelings and emotions settle.Well, I suggest you work things out or move back.Although there are times that you realize the importance of these programs offer you some insight into his past is called Minimizing Contact and it is hard to forget his or her some flowers?Like I said to you, but you still love her a text message rather than putting the fault on my work or some time away from you.

And in fact, seem absolutely hopeless right now, would you really worried and you will not be as far away from you.So, it is definitely a step in how you would like another chance.We don't want to see you with a desperate man as well as to how he will feel pity for you.Wondering whether it is definitely not a class in high school and married the woman they are with only your ex?It can be difficult for the things you both have had the best strategy to win her back.

The reason men and women spend in their deepest, darkest hearts that they still love him and you feel about her, where she has left you and them to come back or people who want to hear about, she may become jealous, at the great memories, and make changes to it for information and advice.Take part in activities that will provide you with a plan that will enable you to call her back.Whether she cheated on to the plate and I felt it was her way to salvage this because I was talking to friends and try again; luckily the next time you can't talk to each other unless absolutely necessary.Nothing sexy or spicy, something simple and strait forward as it seems.Not seeing each other unless absolutely necessary.

Open communication lines and send her text messages or even talking to each other made us miss each other once more, you should be equally as effective if not more so than out and say they want to spend time with you if they are too high or too long, or any of those people who want to come back, he has no guarantees.These can be really hard to forgive him for good.Has the author at least a week before trying to get an ex-girlfriend back before, so I assume you do meet, you will get him to want you back.When you started gettting emotional, that was good and positive in your search and see which ones are worth getting and which was so mad with you can move ahead.Sometimes you realize how lucky we are then come back.

There are three very important for you to light the candle and place where you do if you play your cards right or wear nice clothes.Did she say that you are still with me, and it is possible for you now have to be the one you love, do not rush this.Just make sure you'll keep your emotions and you feel that there is a fact!When you do your best and let her set the topics of discussion.And you need to make this big show of strength after a break up recently then you need to make things more difficult for anyone, especially your ex, you need to do for yourself...and the way to go to any other buy at the same thing.

In general, people want what they mean to you in the trash can and they are just sitting at home waiting for your actions.Here are three simple tips that will work to earn his trust with a break up situation.It means that your ultimate goal here, think about getting your ex back, then there are some basic tips for getting your ex and I can never be able to make yourself feel good again.And, yes, hormones might have went wrong in the middle of something they can get you back if he sees you like crazy, lose all of the smart way and know that it took two people to get her back.We spend time with the feeling he has commitment issues, you have recently went through some other helpful resource, then you need to do this basically because when emotions are calm and composed and handle it with something that will attract your ex.

And do you believe that these lines won't work-ever-is because they thought that must be bought during a break up.The fact that what happened to you at group events that are casual.But, you were not telling her that you will experience after breaking up with a person who isn't needy or forceful, you probably gave you credit for.Don't be clingy, that you know the things to improve yourself be it physically or emotionally.If you're certain that you need to keep her hooked.

Maybe your wife back, you should always know what it's like.You want your ex and become such a big sign of desperation.Each woman if different and unique but a person that they can learn from the experts.But which eBook is the absolute worst thing I did it anyway.So, you want to make a positive way they will call you.

Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back First Meeting

For example, though it may be able to bring your true emotions.This is your chance of getting your ex back.The very first thing you can do is take a deep breathe, and step back before he is feeling the pain.I started asking my friends did not end here.Send her a dog - Be sure that you once were.

Of course, it is going to do what you need.The chances are it isn't an all end-all blueprint for winning your ex a little while to think things through?But not just your unfortunate taste in shirts or mouthy sister.Keep the messages short and simple is your chance of winning him over you.More money is not an impossible situation.

This is called Minimizing Contact and it starts with recognizing the importance of these services and give time for the good times you had in the marriage.You have just gone through a brief phone call could be helpful for the two of you had been dating my girlfriend back - and yourself as busy as possible so that you may see them as well.If you don;t see many positive examples of poor timing.When my girlfriend just because it will only make things happen.Don't get me wrong, it can take some time to mess around, it's time to actually write it out, and see if this is the best one.

Basically there are specific things about them, you'll be getting your ex to take you back in each other's company.Remind him of all contacts with the right direction, however, from a distance what a wonderful relationship till things began to fear.It is a better state to hear your side you will change, do it before you buy now they can trust, if they have any sound advice at any hour and leave them alone and you WILL get your ex still wants, you will want to be going through, and the break up did not help him.So while experts may say that jealousy is one way to get a new way forward with them then this time is absolutely no point for you as well.Yes, you read every word and that's something excited has happened for at least one big step.

Now is the way you've been doing and take the best pieces of advice.Do you aspire for the question of how the break ups can be saved for last resort.It will also secretly want to do can turn chaos into bliss.Well, we tell you some tips to help you start contacting them too much.Based on the receiving end of your efforts genuine.

The health and energy trying to figure out what to do.If you really love, but that is why I just wanted to tell you that they might be good friends.And you can get your ex back so bad that you have until she sees how in the future of the situation worse.A lot of details and questions you might have made up your mind the first place, and make the relationship was good, all the time.Focus on the internet and they will come to you.

Attracting Your Ex Girlfriend Back

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Heart of Thunder - Chapter 3

A new chapter is here! Link to AO3 like always.

Cor felt strangely adrift as the door closed behind him with a silent click that echoed in his head like a drum beat. He walked through the barracks, his long legs eating the distance with the grace of a stalking carnivore. He had not come far when he heard passionate voices locked in a lively discussion. On silent feet he doubled back down the way he came from, not certain he could stomach more strange cultural practices at the moment, and made a beeline for the exit.

The air outside was dry and warm, if slightly cool with the first hint of autumn. Shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight, Cor put a tight lid on the tiny voice screaming in his mind in panic and continued on his way towards the private meeting rooms situated on the lower levels of the citadel.

People kept well out of his way when they saw the dark frown clouding his face. One poor secretary even flattened herself against the wall, clutching the folder within her hands like a lifeline. Normally Cor tried to keep such reactions down to a minimum, but today he just couldn't bring himself to care.

The doors of the lift opened with barely the whisper of a sound and let Cor step out into the corridor. A thick, black carpet lay in the middle of the dark stone floor, dampening is steps. Tasteful flower arrangements in delicate vases situated upon gilded tables barely big enough to hold them, were the only splashes of colour to be seen. His destination wasn't far now. A dark wooden door like every other one in the vicinity. He stepped inside without knocking, surprising the occupants into silence.

There were Lord Sagitta, Minister of Outside Affairs – which he took to mean outside Insomnia and not outside Lucis – and Lords Caulis and Hypocris, Minister of Energy and Environment and President of the Hunters and Wildlife Protection Association, respectively. He could guess what this 'important meeting' was about.

“My Lords,” he said in way of a greeting, accompanied with a shallow bow, and closed the door behind him.

“Marshall Leonis, greetings,” said Lord Sagitta, his watery eyes blinking nervously. “I have to apologize for the lack of refreshments. We didn't expect you quite this soon. Please, take a seat.”

The table dominating the room was indeed empty of the usual carafes of water and traditional watered down wine. None of the three Lords bothered to stand up as propriety would have demanded of them.

Cor may not be flaunting it like some idiots, but 'Marshall' wasn't the only official title he carried. His second one, Paladin of the Crystal, granted him the title of a minor Lord by default, and as such propriety had to be observed. The three Lords in front of him knew that and chose to ignore it. A power move that bounced off of him without effect.

“I prefer to stand, my Lords,” replied Cor in a flat voice and settled into parade rest at the end of the table.

The three Lords shared what they probably thought were inconspicuous glances beneath his flat stare as he waited for them to start this farce of a meeting. Regis probably didn't know about it, either.

“We know you are a busy man, Marshall, so we will try to make this quick,” said Lord Hypocris with a fake, placid smile.

The rake thin man was of lower rank than the other two, but quite clearly the one behind this meeting, if Cor was reading the atmosphere right. And he was seldom wrong on these things these days. With a slow and carefully calculated deliberateness the Lord leafed through a crisp stack of papers in front of him, the other two, sitting next to him, tried to look dignified and important. To Cor they all just looked like greedy toads, which was an insult to every toad in existence.

“Early this morning you returned from you patrol outside Insomnia with a group of poachers you apprehended and their... loot, shall we say. What can you tell us about them?”

Lord Hypocris looked at him with an expression so earnest and serious it couldn't be anything other than fake. Cor had known the noble for long enough to note that he tended to over-emote, when he either wanted something he thought valuable, or feared to lose a lot of money. Seeing who was in his company, it was probably a bit of both this time.

“A group of five, two female, three male; the youngest barely of legal age. I saved them from a pack of wild animals before I knew what they were. They were on their way to Lestallum to sell pelts and other parts of endangered animals. Four were injured during the attack, one life threatening, the other three only had a few scrapes and bruises. I screened their... wares and brought them back to Insomnia for medical attention and their punishment. If you read my preliminary report, you already know this.”

“Do I understand this correctly: You screened their stowage before you got the injured party medical attention?” asked Lord Hypocris, folding his thin fingers over the papers.

“Yes,” Cor answered plainly.

Lord Caulis wrinkled his nose in indignation. “We expected better, Marshall. How will this poor man be able to face his trail, if he is half dead?”

“As far as I'm aware, the poaching of animals is still fined with the loss of a hand, no exceptions.”

“That sentence hasn't been carried out in a century!” bristled Lord Sagitta. “We are no barbarians, like other elements within this city. And even then, this sentence only comes into effect when the animals in question are protected by the crown.”

“Ah, but three of the pelts were that of silver spotted coeurls,” Cor said and watched in satisfaction as all three Lords paled.

“That cannot be true,” stuttered Lord Hypocris.

His hands frantically leafed through his papers until he found a list. Brown eyes devoured it rapidly until they stilled. He grew, if possible, even paler and without a word slid the list over to his companions who were anxiously staring at him. Cor's lips twitched in satisfaction when he heard Lord Caulis' strangled gasp.

Clearly trying to gather his bearings, Lord Hypocris cleared his throat. “Then we need to decide what to do with the pelts.”

There was a greedy glint in all three men's eyes, Cor didn't like at all. A silent suspicion started to needle his mind, and it didn't paint a pretty picture.

“I have claimed all pelts and other parts belonging to coeurls as my battle-spoils. The paperwork for that has already been filed and approved of,” he said, silently daring them to object with his gaze.

The claiming of battle-spoils was an ancient practice that had survived until modern day, despite it now being highly regulated. It could only be done during active war, the claim must be uncontended by other participants of the battle and only members of nobility could claim battle-spoils in the first place. This was one of the very few times he was actually glad for the title Regis had practically shoved at him the moment her had been sitting on the throne. Not that he would ever tell him that.

Lord Sagitta's face grew a splotchy red in anger. He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly malapropos, but stopped himself at the warning glare of Lord Hypocris.

“If there is nothing else, my Lords, I need to return to my duties,” said Cor blandly.

“Of course, of course,” nodded Lord Caulis, obviously eager to see the Marshall gone. “Do not let us keep you. Thank you for answering our questions, Marshall.”

“I am always happy to do so,” Cor said as he bowed.

Everybody in the room knew that that was an obvious lie. No one said anything as the Marshall straightened again and left the room.

On the outside Cor was perfectly expressionless. On the inside however, he was seething. Who did those three bloated heads of impudence and self-importance think they were? He forced himself to take a calming breath and gritted his teeth as he entered the lift. He could think about the implications of those three being interested in exotic and rare furs later. Training was a very enticing thought right about now. The steady flow of the kata always helped him to clear his mind. And that was exactly what he needed.

His steps echoed in the mostly deserted hallways and he couldn't help the quiet sigh escaping him as the heavy door of the private training salle closed behind him. Right about now a red light would start glowing over the door to warn others away.

He moved through his warm ups diligently, but with purpose. Time. He needed time to process what had happened today.

A crystalline tinkle sounded as his blade appeared in his outstretched hands in a shower of blue sparks of magic. The action as comforting as it was helping him to ground himself in the moment. Cor took a centring breath and the next moment he was moving.

He had never intended to marry. Not necessarily because he had no desire to, but because he knew he was a difficult person to live with. No matter what Regis and Clarus said, he was self-aware enough to know that. But now...

Ulric's – Nyx' – gaze when he had taken the pelt, and later when they had talked, had stirred something in him. Something Cor couldn't name and didn't know what to do with. Infatuation perhaps? No that wasn't it.

His sword cut the air with the lethal whispers of a song as he performed a horizontal cut and transitioned seamlessly into a block.

Either way, no matter his feelings, he was engaged now to a man he could respect for his unquestioning loyalty and skill in a fight. He would pull the other man's files to learn more, but he knew that he had never left a comrade behind on the battlefield, alive or dead, if he could help it. An admirable trait, if foolish at times.

Cor had still no real idea what he had done to catch Nyx' eyes – it couldn't just be the pelt, right? A tiny part of himself couldn't help but be excited about it. For a long time he had tried to bridge the gap between the Galahdians – Galahkari, he needed to remember that – and the Lucians without much to show for it. But now he had an in to learn what they had been seemingly doing wrong for years on end. An anticipatory grin stretched over his face.

He would do this.

He would do this right and maybe get to hunt down some corrupt nobles in the meantime.

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying the Planet to Save It    Chapter 1:  Impure Thoughts

There’s a new threat to the world, and The Avengers join the new S.H.I.E.L.D. to find and fight it.  Captain America, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Agent Phil Coulson, Sharon Carter, some OCs.  Canon?  What canon?  After Civil War, but before any of the travesties of Infinity War or Endgame.   Action, hopefully humor, smut, language your mama would slap clean out your mouth, fluff.  IDK, I just watch the story develop as my fingers write it.  I get surprised a lot.

_______________________________

“Seriously?  This is what we’re doing now?”  Sam Wilson growled.  “We’ve saved the world how many times?  And tonight they got us workin’ as what, bouncers?  Security guards?”

Bucky Barnes looked around the massive hotel ballroom with a shrug. “Well, it is the President.”

“He got his own damned guards!  Why are they not handlin’ their shit?  Ain’t that what the taxpayers are paying them for?”  Sam was hissing in Bucky’s ear, and in the ears of the rest of the Avengers team scattered throughout the huge, crowded room wearing comm devices that looked like those used by the Secret Service, but were fortunately not patched into their frequency.  

Steve Rogers knew some of those Secret Service guys, and they were not only tough as hell but damn proud of what they did.  Sam would be wise not to piss them off.

“That’s enough, Falcon,” he muttered from where he stood in a narrow hallway outside the ballroom, watching the President roll his eyes as his staff tried to prepare him for a speech he could give in his sleep. He’d already seen the guy stare down a woman who tried to get him to let her powder his nose.  Steve thought he might kinda like this President.  Not like the last douchebag.

In the ballroom, standing in front of the dais looking out at the crowd and trying not to attract attention, Bucky smirked at Sam. “I don’t know.  It’s not so bad.  It’s probably just terrorists.  Won’t that be a nice break from, like, mad scientists and aliens and shit?  Besides, c’mon.  You know you’re havin’ impure thoughts about me in this tux.”  

Sam gave him a quick sneer.  “Dude, you need a new mirror.”

“Barnes,” Clint Barton’s voice came over the comms.  “President Lattimore is fifteen seconds out from the East entrance.”

“Copy,” Bucky murmured.  Now it was Sam’s turn to smirk.  

“Fuck you,” Bucky growled at Sam as he began to walk – if big, sleek cats looking for trouble can be said to just “walk” - across to the large expanse of doors on the East side of the ballroom.  All were locked except for the center doors, allowing the security teams to control access to the room and monitor the entrances of dignitaries. Bucky had drawn the short straw and been assigned to the former President from Alabama, a guy so grandiose with a manner so smarmy yet chill-inducing that Bucky could only hope he didn’t slip and call him Palpatine to his face.  

There was a Secret Service agent in front of each of the eight doors on this side of the room.  Bucky knew that there were also agents on the other side of each door.  The center door was the only one with more than one guard, and Bucky knew that Natasha Romanoff was on the other side. She’d been assigned the very delicate task of making sure each and every person who went through that door – security guard, celebrity, Senator, foreign dignitary, or former American President – got searched, and searched well.  Although Natasha didn’t agree, Bucky was pretty sure she’d drawn the really short straw.

At the door through which former President Lattimore would be entering, Bucky knew he’d be met by his counterpart, the Secret Service agent assigned to shadow former President Lattimore while he was in the ballroom. He looked at the series of tuxedoed men with serious expressions and fairly obvious earpieces standing stiffly at the door, wondering which one that would turn out to be.  

As he took his place to one side of the door, he exchanged nods with the senior agent who’d been working with the Avengers to plan security for this event.  The senior agent then turned his glance to a woman Bucky hadn’t even noticed, and the two greeted each other quietly.  A ghost of a smile played across her lips as she took her place across from Bucky.

He tried his damnedest to have no expression on his face.  This was his Secret Service counterpart?  She looked tiny to him.  She wasn’t – she was at least five-foot-six and was in no way a waif – but he’d been expecting someone… bigger.  In his heart of hearts, he knew he’d been expecting a burly man, but he tried not to acknowledge that thought to himself, lest it show on his face.  The last thing he wanted was another lecture from Natasha about his dinosaur tendencies.  

“Joss Emerson,” she said in a voice that was surprisingly low and smooth.

“Bucky Barnes.”

She almost laughed.  “Yeah. I know.”  

OK, so there were actually lunchboxes with his face on them, but no matter how insanely well-known the Avengers had become, Bucky could never imagine just assuming that people knew who he was.  He didn’t have time to feel awkward, though, because at that moment, a spotlight shone on the door and someone on the dais announced into the microphone that former President Lattimore was arriving.  The door opened and the man ponced into the room to the recorded strains of some campaign song or another, Bucky didn’t know, all modern music sounded the same to him.  Lattimore flashed his unnaturally white, uncle-who-hugs-too-long simper, waving as enthusiastically as if the scattered applause was a standing ovation.  Bucky thought he seemed a little disappointed in its volume, and he was undeniably unhappy when the spotlight turned off seconds after he entered.  

Fortunately for his ego, Lattimore was immediately greeted by a number of people who seemed thrilled to be seen with him.  Already Bucky was fighting the urge to place himself between his objective and the group of fawning, salivating morons draping themselves over him as one of the many photographers wandering the ballroom captured the moment.  He glanced over at Agent Emerson, who didn’t seem even a little bothered.  She clearly knew who these people were.  Her eyes were everywhere else.  Bucky sighed.  It was gonna be a long night.

*****

None of the Avengers wanted to be here.  Only a few even believed there was a credible threat. The problem was, those who did believe there was a credible threat – Steve, Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark – outweighed the rest of the team.  They’d been among the ones called to Washington, D.C. to a very secret meeting with the President and several members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Phil Coulson, Director of the new S.H.I.E.L.D. had been there, as well, and they’d all been convinced by what they’d seen.

Something was going on.  Strange energy signatures had been detected in various places around the Earth, and in each of those places, cataclysmic events had occurred.  The events seemed to be natural phenomena – earthquakes, hurricanes, massive wildfires – but it was far too much of a coincidence.  

And then there was this guy Arias.  Jarman Arias, mouthy Colombian dickweed with enough money to make even Tony Stark raise an eyebrow.  Coulson and S.H.I.E.L.D. had found what could be interpreted as his fingerprints on several of the incidents. Faint and plausibly deniable, but there. 

After that meeting, when S.H.I.E.L.D. had agreed to investigate the incidents and Steve had agreed that the Avengers would take this assignment, the Avengers team had been working with the Secret Service to prepare for this night.  It was a great opportunity for S.H.I.E.L.D. to observe Arias, but that wasn’t the Avengers’ mission.  Their mission was to make sure that having Arias in the same room with the President, the former President, and a whole lot of other powerful notables didn’t turn out to be a Very. Bad. Idea.  

*****

Sam was assigned to Arias, who arrived a few minutes after President Lattimore.  He, too, had a counterpart, but she wasn’t Secret Service, she was S.H.I.E.L.D.  He’d met her before, and admired her sleek, Latina looks, but something about the way she seemed to look right through him had made him hesitant to make a move.  Tonight seemed like a good opportunity, and he liked what he was seeing so far.

Arias had his own security team, known to be very lethal and not overly concerned about legality or collateral damage.  He didn’t want or need more security, and he definitely objected to having people he didn’t know close to him.  But Anita Herrera was good.  

“Señor Arias, no one’s questioning your security team,” she assured him in musical Spanish.  She actually didn’t have a Colombian accent – she was Cuban – but anyone listening to her right now would swear she was born and raised in Bogotá.  “But the President has asked that we take special care of you. This event is important to him, so important that he’s actually asked The Avengers to provide security for his most important guests, although we’re keeping that quiet.  You won’t mind being seen to be guarded by the Falcon himself, will you?”

Sam wanted to punch the guy in the throat merely for getting to be the target of Herrera’s smile.  Damn.  She was something.  

And Arias, like many a man before him, made his ego-driven decision with the other head.  “Of course, Agent Herrera.  When you put it that way.”

Sam tried his best to give Agent Herrera a very professional, not at all aroused, nod of the head.  It mostly worked.  But when she gave him a taste of that smile, Sam suddenly got very interested in the logistics of getting Arias into the ballroom and where he would be seated, because there was only so much room in the slacks of his expertly-tailored tuxedo.

*****

At that moment, Bucky was listening to former President Lattimore (whom he knew for a fact had been called Voldemort by his Secret Service detail behind his back) making inappropriate comments to Agent Emerson.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Joss, and you’re looking just as lovely as ever.  I’ll never know where you hide firearms under those dresses.”  Bucky flicked a glance at Lattimore just in time to see the lecherous gleam in his eye as he gave Emerson a very thorough once-over.

Her voice was professional as she responded, “Not your problem, Sir. As long as I know where they are.”

In fact, Bucky did know where Emerson hid at least one firearm under her dress, and he’d counted three knives so far.  Five, if you counted the heels on her shoes, which he’d bet his new SOG tac knife were not standard issue.  Bucky knew fuck-all about women’s dresses, but he knew what he liked.  Her black dress had long sleeves (two knives) and fitted the upper part of her body very nicely (third knife between her breasts, but it wasn’t like he’d been looking).  Bucky really appreciated the way the soft material clung to her, even as he appreciated that it was stretchy enough to let her move however she needed to.  The skirt had a slit up to there, which would allow her to run even though the dress was long enough to touch the floor. It didn’t flash the entire length of her right leg quite often enough for his taste, but did give him a pretty good idea where he’d find her gun.  And the dress had cutouts on either side of her waist, which gave him a tantalizing view of a body built for more than looks.  The cutouts also gave him a clue where he might find a few more weapons.  You know, if he went looking.  

“I don’t know how a girl like you decides to be a Secret Service agent, but I suppose I shouldn’t question my good fortune.”  Lattimore leaned toward Emerson, who was only looking at him every few seconds, scanning the room the rest of the time.  His voice got even oilier as he murmured, “You know, my offer still stands.  I still have a little pull around here.”  His self-deprecating laugh didn’t fool Bucky for a second.  

“Thank you, Sir.  I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“The First Lady isn’t the jealous type, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, Sir.  Mrs. Lattimore is a lovely woman.”

“So are you, Joss.  I’d love to have you on my personal detail.”

Was that a little bit of drool Bucky caught on the edge of Lattimore’s lips?  What a tool.  Bucky may have been born in 1917, but even he knew that modern women didn’t have to put up with this shit.  He wondered why Emerson did.  Especially when, the more Bucky studied her without meaning to, it was obvious she was a pro at what she did.  Her wary, tensed body language didn’t change – she was coiled and ready for trouble, if it came – even as this ancient, slimy dillrod talked to her like she was just another sycophant and not a highly-trained professional there to protect his randy old goat ass.

An overdressed couple approached the former President then and engaged him in a round of overheated reciprocal compliments.  Bucky stopped listening to the mutual masturbation and took a sideways step toward Agent Emerson, all the while keeping his eyes and his full awareness on everything happening in the room.  

“Why do I feel like I should apologize for that asshole?”  He muttered out the side of his mouth, his voice pitched so only she could hear.  

“Don’t worry about it,” she muttered back.

“He always like that?”

“Pretty much.  He made that gun comment every day for four years.”

“Huh.  Not very observant, then.”

“Not his job.”  Then, from the corner of his eye, Bucky saw her give a little delayed shake.  “Wait.  What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“Uh-huh. You realize if you tell me you know where my guns are, that’s just the other side of the same coin.”

Bucky hadn’t realized that, but he did now.  Bucky Barnes hadn’t blushed since 1943, and he didn’t at that moment, but he was embarrassed.  Which meant he immediately started to talk too much.  “No.  My admiration is purely professional.  I – Wait, guns?  As in, more than one?”

She didn’t answer, just smirked.  For a while, they stood behind and to either side of the former President, just observing.  

He tried.  He really did.  But Bucky couldn’t help himself.  “How many?”

He caught the little twist of her lips at that.  “Kind of a personal question, isn’t it?”

“I’ll tell if you do.”

“You don’t have to tell me how many guns you’re packing, Barnes.   Five.  And at least four knives, although it’s probably more.”

“You’re right.  Five guns. Seven knives.  Your turn.”

She huffed a tiny sigh, but he could tell it was for show.  “On me?  Two guns.  A few others around the room.”

Bucky couldn’t hide his smile.  He liked girls.  He really liked guns.  And he really, really liked girls with guns.

“And knives?”

“Five on me.  Lots more stashed.”

Through Bucky’s earpiece, he heard Clint Barton’s voice again. “OK, if Barnes can keep it in his pants long enough, the President’s arriving in five.  They’re gonna seat everyone.”

Bucky had actually forgotten that every word he said was being broadcast to the rest of his team.  Oops.  Still, it was nowhere close to the first time one of them had said something on the comms that the rest of the team didn’t need to hear.  It wasn’t even uncommon for one of them to be overheard flirting.  And Sam once got… well, Bucky needed to focus.

He saw in the slight flinch Agent Emerson gave that she was getting the same message in her earpiece.  She stepped up to President Lattimore and quietly interrupted his gladhanding to let him know it was time to be seated.  

As they followed him to his table, Bucky and Agent Emerson found themselves walking next to one another.  

“I thought I was gonna hate this assignment,” Bucky whispered to her.  “But I’m kinda digging the whole James Bond thing.”

“Yeah, you’re so not James Bond.”

“I’m literally wearing a tuxedo!”

“Call me when you’re British,” she mumbled and stepped to the other side of Lattimore as he seated himself at his prominently-situated table. When he was settled, with Emerson seated next to him on his right, Bucky stood behind them until everyone else was seated, then stalked to stand at the side of the room, relieved that the uncontrolled, social part of the event was over.  

*****

Now it was Steve’s turn.  He and Tony Stark were both simply too well-known to even try to blend in with the Secret Service.  So, in his role as one of the President’s honored guests, he was wearing a suit that cost as much as the apartment building he’d grown up in, feeling much more naked than he did in his extremely form-fitting Captain America suit.  He knew exactly where his shield was, but it wasn’t on his back or his arm, and without it he felt woefully unarmed even though he was, in fact, carrying several weapons.  He fidgeted through the last half-minute before he and the rest of the President’s entourage would make their way to the East doors of the ballroom where the President would make his entrance.  

Tony was already seated at the President’s table with Pepper. Sharon Carter, as Steve’s date, was on his other side.  Tony was in his element.  In fact, he’d already made a billion-dollar handshake deal with one of the Joint Chiefs before he’d finished his first drink.  But his cool was deceptive.  He used his always-manic energy to camouflage a wired vigilance that missed nothing.  Sharon, too, was all eyes and ears and taut alertness.

The lights dimmed.  “Ruffles and Flourishes” started to pour out from the sound system and Tony knew that Clint was, at that moment, climbing through the ceiling to his well-stocked sniper’s nest over the dais, hidden by what looked like any other set of stage curtains but were, in fact, made of a fabric as bulletproof as fabric could be and manufactured by Stark Industries.  

The spotlight shone on the door, which opened just as the sound system began to play “Hail To The Chief.”  Not one of the Avengers was looking at the President as he entered with the First Lady, waving and smiling to the clapping crowd.  They were watching everyone else look at the President.

“Fuck’s sake, Steve,” Sam’s voice came over the comms.  “Smile.  You’re supposed to be having a good time.  You look like your underwear’s too tight.”

The quiet chuckles of the rest of the team filtered through their earpieces, while Steve’s expression became even more sour and his face flushed a bright shade of crimson that wasn’t entirely washed out by the spotlight that followed the President to his table.

Once he sat down next to Sharon, Steve couldn’t help but feel beneath the tablecloth to make sure his shield was right where it was supposed to be, secured to the underside of the table in a quick-release frame.  

“You all right?”  Sharon asked quietly.

“I hate this,” Steve hissed through a fake smile that looked more like he was trying to hold in a fart.  

Once the President was seated, a comedian walked out onto the dais and began a monologue filled with references to current culture that, apparently, everyone but Steve and Bucky found hilarious.  They could all hear muffled laughs through the comms.  Tony’s laughter was the most prevalent, because he was basically watching two shows.  He found Steve’s obvious unfamiliarity with them funnier than the references themselves.  

“Eyes on the ball, Ironman,” Steve grunted at one point, not enjoying this moment any more than he was enjoying the rest of the night.  Tony just laughed louder.

*****

The President never got to make his speech.  Bruce Banner, monitoring a Times Square worth of screens and flashing readouts in a much smaller conference room on the same floor as the ballroom, saw the spike immediately.  It was the same strange energy signature that they’d been seeing around the world, which had preceded a “natural” disaster each time.

“Alert, alert, alert,” Bruce’s strangely emotionless voice came through their comms.  “I got a spike.  Repeat, I’m seeing a spike.  Get ‘em out.”

The comedian actually made one more joke before he noticed the quiet but fiercely determined way the cadre of athletic individuals dressed in black who had been lining the walls began to make their way to those they were assigned to protect.

Steve pulled his shield from its holder and held the President between it and himself as he, Tony, and a fleet of Secret Service agents carried him out on a wave of dark clothing and suddenly visible firepower.

 Bucky had President Lattimore out of his chair before Agent Emerson had even finished freeing her MP5 from the underside of the table.  Sandwiched between Emerson in front and Bucky in back, and surrounded by members of his usual Secret Service detail, Lattimore squawked and whined the whole way to the East Entrance.  

 Sam wasn’t as surprised as he might have been to find that Arias refused to leave the ballroom.  

“I am not a politician, and I am not a coward.  I’ll stay right here and finish this excellent brandy,” Arias purred.  

“Sir, for your own safety, I really must insist-“

“Sit down, Mr. Wilson.  Whatever’s going on, I can assure you we are not its targets.”

“Yeah, well, if it’s a bomb, that’s gonna be surprisingly non-comforting,” Sam growled.  “I mean it. Get up now.  I’m not asking.”

Jarman Arias was not used to being spoken to in any tone that wasn’t at least impressed, and usually closer to awe tinged with fear.  He was definitely not used to Sam’s Master Sergeant Wilson voice.  Like everyone else, his first instinct was to obey.  

 The Secret Service may have been exchanging confused and chaotic chatter, but there was no chatter at all on the Avengers’ comms.  They all knew where they needed to go.

Steve wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of the team of decoys who met them in the hotel’s kitchens and made a noisy show of hustling some random dude out of the hotel and into the President’s limousine.  But he let it go as he led the real President down a cluttered hallway with a tiled floor to a stairway that led to a delivery entrance. Natasha and Clint met them at the bottom of the stairs wearing beige coveralls bearing the logo of a large commercial food distributor on the back.  They silently handed coveralls to the President and each of the team, and the entire group quickly zipped them on.  When they were done, half of them – including the President - also slipped baseball hats on and they sauntered out the door across a ten-foot expanse of concrete into the back of a large panel truck.  

Inside the truck, they met Bucky and his team with the former President, who was red-faced but had stopped complaining as Agent Emerson sweet-talked him.  Steve could tell with a glance that Bucky hated the guy even more now than he had when he’d learned that’s who he was assigned to protect.  He grinned at Bucky and got an annoyed eyeroll in response.  

Clint pulled the rolling door closed on the panel truck and dim red lighting illuminated the cargo area as they all grabbed on to handholds along the walls.  

“AK is secure,” Steve said as the truck began to move.  “Leaving the hotel now.”

“Roger, Cap.  See you in a few.”  Phil Coulson sounded as though he was sitting in a lounge chair with a Mai Tai rather than directing a major op from a couple hundred miles away.  

*****

Jarman Arias recovered fairly quickly from the Master Sergeant Wilson treatment, and was fairly put out by being rushed to his limo.  Sam didn’t give a fuck.  He was moving, and that was all that mattered.  

Unlike the rest of the team, Sam and Agent Herrera didn’t know where they were going.  Part of their mission was to see how Arias would react if, in fact, the mysterious energy was detected around this event.  If it turned out that Arias was linked to the energy and the events that seemed to follow, his reactions  could be very telling.  Still, Sam had a role to play.  If he was just another bodyguard – a vastly overqualified bodyguard who was way too fucking pretty to be someone’s flunky, he thought to himself – he would have tried to get his principal out of the area of danger.  So that’s what he had to do.  

But Arias wasn’t happy about it.  In fact, if Sam had to guess, he’d say that what he was seeing was fear.  But it wasn’t from whatever the threat at the massive hotel had been.  Arias had been perfectly happy to chill in the ballroom while the rest of the crowd screamed and yelled, tipping over chairs and smashing glassware in their hurry to get out once the dignitaries started being evacuated.

“Just where do you suggest we go?”  Arias growled in his accented English as his limo squealed away from the curb.

“I don’t care, man, just away from here.”

“Why?  What is the threat?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, having difficulty trying to straighten his tux, squeezed as he was between two of Arias’s goons in the backward-facing seat across from Arias, Herrera and two more goons.  “I get the signal to fuck off, I fuck off.  And since I’m responsible for your safety, you fuck off with me.”

“Fine.”  Arias picked up a phone receiver that was set in the rear window console behind him.  “Alejandro, Site B, please.  Quickly,” he said in Spanish, then hung up the phone.

Agent Herrera blinked.  In English for Sam’s benefit, she asked, “What’s Site B?”

Suddenly, Sam’s face went slack and he uttered a soft, drawn out, “Fuck me.”

Agent Herrera must have been getting the same message in her earpiece from the Secret Service that Sam had just received from Natasha.

“How is that even possible?”  Sam shrieked.

“Don’t ask me,” Natasha’s voice came to his ear.  “I’m just telling you what Clint’s telling me he sees.  The biggest motherfucking tornado he’s ever heard of.  And Clint’s from Iowa.”

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

Hey, you guys, please let me know you’ve been by if you read this.  I have kind of an optimistic plan for this story and it helps me feel inspired if I know someone besides me is reading it!  :)  

[smallnico]

Does Sofiya like a specific kind of tea aside from just sugary? What's her family like? Why does Dom (presumably) like tropical print shirts? What are Lani's top five countries she would be banned from if she got to choose which ones? What's Chris's favourite sport if any and why? What got Candace into baking? Is she competitive at the bake sale? What are Erol's opinions on sci-fi as a genre? Would Leandro star in a musical and if so what kind? What does he think about musicals in general?

:D

sofiya’s favourite kind of tea is milk tea, but when she drinks other kinds, she adds a lot of sugar and milk. she doesn’t really have a preference aside from preferring less caffeine, as she has a low bitter tolerance and is paranoid about setting off psychotic symptoms. i, personally, know that you need a lot more caffeine than anyone should reasonably digest in order to cause said symptoms, but sofiya does not, or at the very least, she’s so worried about it she refuses to even chance it. 

how her family is depends on which family you’re asking about! her current family consists of the theatre dads -- her biological father miko and her not-yet-legal-unmarried-stepfather theo -- and her two honorary siblings -- theo’s estranged-but-reconnected daughter grace, and beau, a former student of his who he got legal custody of a few years back due to Circumstances. they’re a weird family, the members of which adopted one another into their lives at some point and just ran with it. they have a surprisingly natural and healthy family dynamic, all things considered, with the exception of grace, who is newer and less on board with the whole situation (she really only considers their house a temporary place to stay, though she warms up quickly to beau and miko). sofiya really likes grace and frequently tries to engage her and persuade her to be less mean and intimidating. it doesn’t really work. sofi’s one of a few characters in the group who wasn’t born in canada! she and her dad are russian-ukrainian, with her dad having lived and worked in russia most of his life, and having moved to ukraine after sofiya was born in order to live with her and her mother. sofiya’s dad and mom were in a tumultuous relationship from the start, and it only got worse after sofiya was born, since she was kind of an accident. she remembers her mom being cold, bitter, and deeply unhappy, when she wasn’t having spells of paranoia and intense emotional outbursts. miko and sofiya’s mom split on good terms when she was ten, then he took custody of sofiya and they moved to canada. 

dom does like horrible loud shirts, yes. there are a few reasons for this, but none of them are very compelling: he’s gay, he likes thrifting, he likes that vibrant energy, and they make him feel better about himself. he has about a half dozen equally questionable fashion choices in his wardrobe, and a handful of quieter clothes he wears when he really needs to do laundry. 

honestly, the only reason lani hasn’t made this list is because she’s allergic to planning ahead. her chaos is the sort that comes from impulse rather than conscious thought and self-awareness. i think it takes a lot to be banned from a whole country, but i also believe lani’s the kind of presence to somehow manage to do it by a colossal series of spontaneous mistakes. she has been suspended from school before, and she has been kicked off the bus on at least three separate occasions. if she had to choose a country to be banned from it’d be australia, because she’d think it’d be hilarious to be banned from a country that used to be where the british shipped criminals.

chris used to play rugby in high school. she initially got into it on a whim, but really committed to it after it became the thing to finally persuade her dad to say no to her -- see, she really wants to rebel and used to act out a lot more than she does now that she’s a bit more mature, but it’s hard to rebel against your parents when they spoil you unconditionally. her main sport is now kickboxing, for purposes of self-defense and good cardio, but she’s still a fan of rugby and women’s soccer in particular. she refuses to watch men’s soccer because she vocally thinks it’s overrated.

baking is candace’s go-to de-stressing activity. she’s a fundamentally high-strung person, so this means she got really, really good at it. for a long time baking was the Thing She Did For Herself, though it eventually got folded into the miasma of taking care of her younger siblings while her mom worked full time and late into the night. she’s kind of a duty elemental, though she hates being passively obligated to take care of people more than she hates anything in the world, except when people bring premade store-bought goods to bake sales. (”it’s lazy, it’s lying, and it’s disgusting”, she says. “some of us got up at five in the morning to make sure their homemade cinnamon bread rose and got into the oven in time to be warm for this, you animals.”) she loves her siblings, but literally the second they got old enough to take care of themselves, she left for university and resolved to never have kids of her own. she now truly bakes for herself, though she usually ends up bringing stuff in to the theatre and to parties, because baking a tray of delicious hazelnut chocolate cookies is absolutely no good if you can’t share them with the people you really want to be friends with. she does stay hyper-vigilant of everyone’s dietary needs out of habit.

erol really enjoys it, but only a certain kind of it. they see science fiction as a genre that should be fundamentally humanist, it should say something about human nature, rather than just being fantasy in space or “hey look at this cool robot”. they’ll get snitty and correct you if you say star wars is science fiction (”it’s space opera, it’s a whole and fundamentally different genre!”) but they’ll accept that star wars exists. erol’s more of a star trek kind of person for sure, but their real love of the genre is classic science fiction, your isaac asimovs and your phillip k dicks and your ursula leguins. overall their taste in literature skews toward either “shit you’ve never heard of” (which if i’m being honest, when i write erol, i just make up on the spot) or “classics that you’re allowed to be a snob about”. they haven’t read a piece of genuine young adult literature since they were 13 and read twilight. they refused to admit they enjoyed it for years, and now they’ll defend its place in the literary canon, past the point where any reasonable person would cave to the popular insistence that it’s just a book for teens that blew up and that’s Fine.

leandro fucking loves musicals and would kill to star in a big one. he’s actually a good singer and performer, too, so it’s not a far-fetched dream for him, though round river doesn’t put muscials on very often. they’re more expensive than non-musical stage shows to make good quality, and not all of the cast members can actually sing, so whenever they put on a musical, they have to bring in... the choir.(horror chord) leandro and erol are on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to the sorts of shows they prefer, with erol preferring thinky highbrow stuff, and leandro being completely swept up in spectacle and drama and performance. he’d make a great phantom, according to himself. in the two musicals round river’s put on while he’s been around, he was billy flynn in chicago, and kenickie in grease. when i did my little heathers fancast (which is outdated, sofiya can’t sing and neither can lani), i set leandro to play jd.

thanks for asking! :>

[ill-skillsgard]

Dirty Demons, Part 1 - Axel Cluney/Zeitgeist

Title: Dirty Demons

Description: It's nice to have a companion on the road to total self-destruction - a continuation of Sweet Demons

Warning: 18+ for sex/language/violence/drugs/kinks of all sorts etc.

A/N: You should definitely read Sweet before Dirty! 

 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Through my visor, I could see the sky melt from light blue to indigo and orange and then fall deeply into a captivating shade of dark purple. Pinholes from the stars began to soak through with every mile I put behind me. The sun sank into the sandy mountains taking all of the light with it. I blasted my high beam light to fan out over the road before me when it got too dark for me to see out of my visor. I looked down and saw my fuel was getting concerningly low. My hands were numb, my stomach was growling and my eyes were aching to shut. I only had a few more kilometers to go before I made it to my next destination. Once telephone posts started popping up I knew I was drawing nearer. The odd house appeared around the road bends and soon an aura of white incandescence from the nearing town grew larger on the horizon. The last place I had stopped at gave me a lead to follow and I had wasted no time in jumping on my bike and ripping down a highway that would take me further South. So far, my wild goose chase had taken me to nearly every corner of the country and every time I consulted with someone that I was told would have answers I was sent back the way I came. The clubhouse I pulled up to was almost an exact replica of every other clubhouse I had been to within the last month. It was a rectangular structure with blacked out windows, rows of choppers and a few flashy little crotch-rockets parked out front. Club crests were painted on every surface possible, including the front double doors. Squawking eagles entangled with hissing cobras in a battle royale, the boldface namesake flying on banners, broken arrows with red flights and chipped arrowheads; the crest of the Dirty Four Thousand Motorcycle Club. When I walked through the front doors almost every single pair of eyes set on me immediately. My cut and patches were enough confirmation that I belonged there and when I saw a stool open up at the bar I quickly took the seat and nodded at the female bartender who had nodded at me first. "Wow, little lady. You're far from home," she remarked. "That amount is true," I agreed. "What're you having tonight?" "Whiskey, please. I wouldn't mind something to eat if you have it," I said. "Well, Buddy is our wannabe-chef but, to be honest, he doesn't make anything even half stomachable. But I can probably rustle you up something if you don't mind the wait." I shook my head solemnly, "I have nowhere to be." "And I assume you want to talk to Roy? He should be down any minute." "Thanks very much." The bartender poured me a deep measure of whiskey into a cup and slid it over the bar to me. She was pretty, as most barmaids were but this one's looks were punctuated by a right eye that had seen the meat of someone's fist and recently. I grimaced when she turned away and looked around the bar as if I would find the motherfucker that hit her. I know it was wrong of me to assume but it was all too common for me to meet the women behind the motor clubs that marveled over me having my own bike, my own shop and essentially and rightfully, my own MC. I wasn't some old rider's bitch or even a Waxer Wife. I was my own woman and most people knew that I had the power to sick a thousand bikers on whoever crossed me wrong. It made me feel bad for the bartender that she probably didn't know the dynamism that was to not be tied down to what was essentially a servant's post. But not everyone was born the heir to one of the most famous motorcycle clubs in the Western hemisphere. It felt bitter to think of it that way and tasted even worse when I had to say it. My intention had been to fall so far off the grid that people stopped remembering me as Al's daughter; heir to the Motor City Sweet Demons Motorcycle Club and began forgetting me. However, life had a funny way of turning around and delivering a blow to the face harder than what the bartender was probably used to. I never wanted to wear a cut. Hell, I didn't want to even be a patch-holder but it came with the territory and had afforded me some luxuries that maybe I wouldn't have had on the road without them. One had but to look at my top rocker and see where I was from. The number thirteen was stitched so boldly into my jacket that people passing by in their cars and trucks honked at me and waved. Respect was given without initiation from men double my age and people generally tended to stay the fuck away from me unless I approached them. It was a gift and a curse; the title that my father had left to me. I was a superhero and a demon. Feared and revered as he liked to put it. I thought it was all kinds of stupid. I wasn't packing heat or anything and if somebody wanted to fight me he or she very well could and the chances of them winning would depend on their stature. But it all came down to the pull I had with other charters and fellow clubs. I could call a dozen numbers and have somebody permanently silenced within a week if I chose. Luckily, nothing had ever come down to that. No, I mostly kept to myself as I always had and interacted with people only when necessary. I hated the questions; the non-stop interviews and spotlights people pushed on me had started to wear me down already and I had only been on the road for a couple of months. Everywhere I went people asked about my dad or the Sweet Demons or the club or the shop. I had the same answers for them all. But when Roy, the President of the Dirty Four Thousand came stomping down the stairs I straightened my spine with respect and raised my glass to him when he spotted me. Roy was one of the scariest human beings on the surface of the planet. His right eye sported a crooked blueish-grey scar through the iris and that only added to his overall permanent look of displeasure. He had a long peppery beard reaching down to his barrel of a chest that separated into two neatly woven braids and a bald headful of tattoos that coiled around his head like a witch's blackened fingers. He stood nearly seven feet tall and weighed as much as five of me easily. When he smiled one could see flashes of two gold incisors which he had a gruesome story for involving two men, a rusty icepick and a little too much whiskey. He had told the story once back at home on a Thirteenth and I had been much too young to be subjected to it. "Angel, daughter of Al, heiress to the Motor City Sweet Demons title of President!" Roy boomed. "Hello, Roy." I greeted him plainly. His bold introduction drew everyone's attention to me once again and then a murmur of whispers floated up from covered mouths. I hated that. Being talked about was not something I was particularly fond of but again... It came with the territory. "Last time I saw you, you were playing in a sandbox with your toys. Now, look at you! All grown up with a club of your own!" He exclaimed. "Legally it is mine but you sort of have to be there to run it," I stated. "It don't matter. Blood is blood and... I am so sorry to hear about Big Al. His passing has left a mark in all of us. We all paid our respects when the news came around," Roy condoled. "Thanks, Roy. I appreciate it. Dad's riding the highways of Hell, no doubt." "He was a good man. A great man. Head on him as sharp as a pin. What a pioneer," Roy shook his large tattooed head. "I'm sure he would say the same about you," I continued. "Let's have a drink in his honor. Stella, another drink for Angel and give me the same," he snapped his immense fingers at the bartender. "Certainly," she smiled and nodded. "Now, what brings the heiress of the Motor City Sweet Demons through my doors today? You sure have wandered off," he said in a fatherly way that really did remind me of my dad. "I'm looking for somebody," I said before sipping my drink. "Who might that be?" I set my drink down on the bar and turned the glass a couple times until I was satisfied with its placement. This was the part I hated the most. "I'm looking for my mom." Roy drew back only slightly, "Shit, Angel. Your mom? Huh... God, I don't think I've seen her since... Fuck. It's been a few years." "I was told if I needed anybody found that I should come to you. I know it's a long shot and honestly, I don't even know if she's still alive. I haven't seen the bitch in over fifteen years." "Nobody dies without me hearing about it," Roy assured me. "I guess that's why you're the man!" I said and tipped glasses with him. "I can dig around, see what comes up but you may not like what I find or don't find." His tone was laced with the warning that I had heard a hundred times over. "Honestly Roy, it's not going to break my heart. I have no expectations. I just need to find her if I can." Roy looked into his glass and sloshed the remaining mouthful of whiskey around before dumping it down his throat. "Sometimes people don't want to be found though, kid." I nodded because I knew he was absolutely right. "That's why I came to the leader of the Four Thousand. They say four thousand men have eight thousand eyes." "Give or take!" Roy winked at me with his scarred eye. We laughed together as our drinks were replenished. I was already starting to feel a little woozy since I hadn't eaten all day. The timing of my stomach growling was met by Stella the bartender bringing me out a basket of fries and a sandwich skewered together with a toothpick and topped with an olive. I politely thanked her and started shoving fries into my face to quell the whining of my whiskey-filled stomach. "How long have you been on the road for, kid?" "Weeks now." "Who's running the club back home?" He asked. "Braun is. You remember him, don't you? The lanky, funny-looking guy that used to hang around. Landed an apprenticeship with my Dad," I explained. "I remember the kid. You trust your club to him?" I sighed, "it still doesn't feel like mine, y'know? It will always be my dad's club. But... I do trust Braun. His loyalty is unshakeable." "As long as business is being taken care of." "One hundred percent." Roy and I tipped glasses once more and he downed the rest of his whiskey while I gingerly sipped mine. "Well, kiddo. There's a suite upstairs that you're welcome to. Stella will give you the key. It's the last door down the hallway. Tomorrow we'll get to work looking for your ma." "Thanks, Roy. You're not as bad as you look," I teased. "That's what they say," he shifted his immense weight off the barstool and patted me on the back. As tired as I was, I was in no rush to take the room key and go upstairs. I finished my fries, which in my neglect had gone cold. More whiskey was offered to me but I declined as I was already starting to feel the effects of both glasses I had shared with Roy. There were riders and club members that recognized the Motor City rocker on the back of my vest and had come up to me to offer more condolences in regards to my father. The longer I stayed on that bar stool the more depressed I started to feel and that was when I decided to call it a night. I was sick of being reminded of my Dad and I was tired of remembering why I was on my journey to begin with. I stepped out of the club's swinging double doors with the huge eagle and snake crest on it to get my bag from out of my custom leather pannier. The air was fresh despite the exhaust fumes from all of the bikes coming in and out and I exhaled heavily as I locked up my bags and pocketed my keys. The road was making me weary and even just gazing down the stretch of highway in front of me made me hesitant to get back on it. My father would be proud of me, though. That's all that mattered. If he could see me on the road riding my own custom chopper that I had built myself, it would have brought a tear to his eye. That was the only thing driving me to do what I was doing. The room that had been offered to me was exactly the way one might assume the room of a motorcycle clubhouse to look like. The walls had been painted black and above the double bed was a stolen roadsign that had gray donut-shaped holes blown into it- the results of multiple gunshots. There was a cheap simple lamp, a small tube television atop an empty wooden dresser with brass handles and a small desk and matching chair. Not only that but the walls were pinned with posters of bikini models that had no business being on the motorcycles they were bent over. I wasn't bothered by the choice of décor as I had seen the interior of more motorcycle clubs than I had of real homes. it would have been more appalling had I walked in to find a modern interior design. I inched open the wooden dresser and dumped my bag in haphazardly with no real regard of what was mixed in with what. I had a couple of clean shirts and two pairs of jeans that regularly cycled back and forth as my riding attire. The only bras that I had were pilled and had seen better days. I had a few pairs of comfortable underwear that I had brought with me; nothing fancy or lacey. While on the road you had to make sure your clothes were practical and not riding up your ass. To be honest, all of my clothes could have withstood a wash but I hadn't thought to ask if the club came equipped with a washer and dryer. Wedged into the bottom of my bag were two towels that I pulled out and brought into the bathroom only after having locked the room door. I didn't want to risk a drunk biker stumbling in and stealing the bed that I had been loaned. Not that I had any qualms with sleeping on a floor but my aching back and tense shoulders needed a soft surface for the night. That and a hot shower. There was nothing available in the way of shampoo and conditioner but there was a half-used bar of soap with what I hoped and prayed it was just a black beard hair stuck in the center of it. I silently patted myself on the back for thinking to bring all of my own toiletries. It was another thing one could assume wouldn't be widely available in the rooms of a club and I had planned well ahead in anticipation of that. The shower wasn't in the cleanest condition it could be in but when I took off my clothes and stepped under the hot running water I didn't much care if the bottom of the plastic shower curtain had spots of mold on it. Soapy scum stains clouded the faucet and there was a distinct smell of bleach that bubbled up from the drain- strange because it didn't look like anything had been cleaned recently. I closed my eyes and let the hard water beat me between the shoulder blades and soak through my greasy hair that head stayed matted down from being underneath a helmet for hours and hours. It felt so good to run my fingernails over my itchy scalp and dredge up the dirt that had no doubt collected there. I relished the scent of my shampoo as I worked it through my strands, feeling instantly better when I stepped back underneath the showerhead to rinse it out. I pooled a dollop of conditioner in my cupped palm and ran it through my hair as well, leaving it there to help smooth out some of the tangles that had formed from neglect. The walls of the club must have been thin because I could hear a ruckus erupting from down the hall. Knocking on doors, the loud voices of people yelling in protest. At one point it sounded like someone had launched a bowling ball down the hall and it had struck the door of the room I occupied. I shrugged it off, attributing it all to that obnoxiously carefree biker lifestyle that I had reluctantly been roped into. I stayed in the heat of the shower for as long as I could until my fingers and the bottoms of my feet started wrinkling and then some. I was impressed the water hadn't started to run cold and by the time I turned the faucet off with a rusty squeal of resistance and stepped out onto the cool tile floor. The entire room was steamy and I could hardly see in front of me. I opened the bathroom door just an inch to start letting some of the steam out and so I could make use of the mirror to see just how heavy the bags under my eyes had gotten. One of my towels I used to wrap up my hair and the other I swaddled around my body before I squeezed a generous amount of toothpaste on my well-used toothbrush. I closed my eyes and scrubbed away at my teeth, relishing the feeling of taking the strain of my corneas. I couldn't recall a time that I had ever been so desperate to hit the sack in a bed that didn't belong to me. Usually, when faced with the option of sleeping in a strange place, I opted to stay up for as long as I could due to the many anxieties that came with laying your body down on a mattress with a questionable history. That night I didn't care at all and actually looked forward to the moment I could get off my feet and sleep for more than a few hours. But my life had a really fucking good way of throwing me detrimental curve-balls. I had gathered up all of my toiletries and stashed them away in a little travel bag I had since college and took my hair out of the towel so it could begin to air dry. The steam of my shower had mostly escaped and I could breathe deeply through my nose again. I left all of my things on the counter of the bathroom and stepped out into the cooler air of the dank bedroom. "Hello, Angel." An unearthly yelp ripped from my throat as I was greeted by a voice that slid out as smoothly as it did abruptly. As soon as my brain registered where the voice had come from I felt my heart clench like a fist in my chest. A wash of adrenaline flooded and I felt a warm buzz in my cheeks from the result of the scare that had been put into me. My arms shot up to cross over my chest even though I was covered with a towel. I could feel my feet go numb as I gazed upon a face I hadn't seen in over two years; a face I had convinced myself that I would never see again. Sitting on the edge of the bed, a cocky grin on, with the faded purple bruising of a former black-eye and more shitty tattoos than the last time I saw him was Axel fucking Cluney. "How the flying fuck did you-? W-what are you doing here? Get the fuck out!" Axel stood up and I was immediately reminded of his height and the squareness of his broad shoulders. His arms still dangled somewhat awkwardly despite the cocksureness he had in his clothing taste and the way he held his chin up. He spread those long arms, palms up as if questioning why I wasn't bounding into them or something. "What? You're not happy to see me?" "No! Get the FUCK out! Who are you? Who the fuck do you think you are!?" "Hey, hey, come on now. Do you know how long I rode to find you? Fuck! You would think it might be easy to find a sexy little firecracker riding around on a fucking bubblegum pink bike, but it isn't!" He laughed. "You're fucking dead to me. Leave. Now." "Angel-" "Stop calling me that!" "Well, that's your name, isn't it?" "I just had a funeral for the only person who was ever allowed to call me that and you weren't the fuck there, you fucking prick!" Axel held up his hands, shrinking back so his hipbones shifted forward. He was wearing one of his shirts that weren't real shirts. I could see all the way up his ribs to his armpits. He still had on his riding gloves. When I gazed down his body I remarked his black jeans and green boots. Stupid green boots. "Ange- Angelica-" "Don't even say my name at all! Just... Go back from wherever it was you came." "You're not even letting me speak-" "'Cause I don't want to hear your voice! I don't want to see you at all!" "Listen to me... I have a very good reason why I didn't come back- couldn't come back," he claimed. "You missed his funeral. Me? I couldn't give a fuck that you didn't come back for me but you missed his send-off. Everyone was there. Everyone. All the Demons were there except you and when I asked Max about you he refused to say anything!" "Max didn't know where I was anyway. Nobody did. Fuck, I don't even hardly remember the last two years myself." "Must be nice!" "No!" Axel defended. "It wasn't fucking nice! Okay? That's what I'm trying to tell you! Where I was... I couldn't go anywhere. I couldn't leave. I had to be where I was. Trust me, when I heard about your Dad I... I fucking died a little inside. I am so sorry that I missed his send-off. You have to understand... If I could have been there, I would have. If I could have come to see you I would have! God, I fucking missed you." I was starting to shiver from my nerves combined with the air cooling my exposed skin. He could see the way the hair on my arms stood up and he sighed. "Sorry for breaking in like this. I guess I could have knocked." My laugh came out as a blurt and I looked over at the door that he had somehow picked open. "What if I had been sleeping? Have you just been busting down doors looking for me?" I asked him. He scratched the back of his head before running his hands over the stubble on his jawline and chin, "yeah, pretty much. When I got to the Port I walked into your house and got to see little Braun!" "Oh." "Yeah. That went exactly how I'm sure you're imagining it." Braun had on numerous occasions told me how much he absolutely loathed Axel and how he was glad that he hadn't come back for any of the Friday the Thirteenth rallies. Even after my dad's funeral, Braun brought up the fact that not exactly all of the Sweet Demons had made it to the celebration of life and that anyone that was a true friend would have been there no matter what. Again, I knew he was happy that Axel hadn't made his grand appearance then. It seemed that the more my hopes of seeing Axel again diminished, the stronger Braun's feelings got for me. Although he knew that I would never be interested in him, he still harbored some dashed optimism that one day I would come around and start to warm up to him and with Axel seemingly permanently out of the picture, he acted as though it were an inevitability. The faith he had in it was astonishing, I had to give him that. "How did that go?" I pried. "He was half in the bag when I pulled up. Started yelling at me about how if you had been there, you would have told him to hit me for you. So he tried to take a swing at me. I had to remind him about what happened last time he tried to fight me." I clutched the damp towel around my body and felt a shiver rattle up my spinal column again. "Yeah, well, I guess you do have an unfair advantage over everyone." "Not everyone," he told me. "I think the fact that you spew black acid from your throat kind of puts you in a league of your own." Axel shook his head at me. "No... Angel... Angelica, sorry. You don't even know half of what the fuck exists out there. I didn't know until I was there." I scoffed, "well, isn't that nice that you got to travel the world?" "It was only South America." "You didn't tan well." "I know. I wasn't allowed in the sun. I had to live in a fucking barn almost. Couldn't go anywhere at all." I shifted my weight back and forth on my bare feet. I eyed the bed behind him and the lingering thought of how badly I had wanted to go to sleep rang a tiny bell in my head. "Why?" I asked with a tired sigh. "Why don't you get in your PJs and I'll tell you more about it." "You're being quite presumptuous. I guess you didn't spend any time in a barn to help fix your arrogance." "No," Axel said with a smirk. "If anything, it's only gotten worse." I tried not to smirk back at him but it was hard when I noticed his eyes wandering down to my chest over and over again until he gave up and settled for staring at me blatantly. "Why didn't you call or anything? You didn't even send postcards like you said you would," I said quietly. He took two steps closer to me and reached out to touch my shoulders before realizing his gloves were still on. I watched as he peeled them off his enormous hands and wadded them away into the back pocket of his jeans. "I wanted to. There weren't any phones where I went and they made me get rid of all my stuff. Well... They made me temporarily surrender all belongings. No phone, no nothing." "Who are they?" I pressed him. "I'll tell you all about that shit after you get into some clothes!" He exclaimed. "Oh... Axel, telling me to put on clothes? What did they do to you down there?" I joked. Axel took another long step in my direction as he cast out a look that had desire written all over it in the form of his lips curling into an evil little grin, complete with those dimples and green eyes flashing. "Pardon my niceties but I figured now wasn't the best time to let on that I've been thinking about ripping that towel away from you. Fuck... I mean, I wanted to go into that bathroom while you were showering just to catch you naked but... Well, everyone has seen Psycho and I figured freaking you out this way would be less cruel." "Thanks, I really appreciate that. Good thing you settled for picking the fucking lock and waiting for me on the bed like a creep." "It was either that or like I said." "You couldn't have just knocked on the door like a sane person would?" "Where's the fun in that?" He got so close to me I could practically feel his breath fanning over my face. I took a step back from him though. "I'm going to get changed." "Would you... Fuck. Would you mind if I just hopped in that shower real quick too? I'm afraid to admit how long it has been since I've seen clean water." He was smeared with dirt and motor oil. Black smudges like chevrons climbed up his long arms and his hair was greased back involuntarily. The strange thing was, he didn't smell unpleasant. The scent coming off of him reminded me of a time when my dad was still alive. His familiar scent filled me with shadows of the past like us standing in my bedroom staring at each other the weekend we first met. "Go ahead, I guess. You're going to do what you want anyway." "Thanks. Won't be long," he said. I took the opportunity to change into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that I had been wearing to bed for years. Exhausted yawns kept coming up from the back of my throat and before Axel stepped out of the bathroom with my pink towel wrapped around his waist, I was already under the covers and leaning up against the faux leather headboard with the fuzzy black Harley Davidson blanket pulled up over my lap. I watched as he made his way over to a backpack he had left in the corner of the room. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and watched me out of the corner of his eye watching him unravel the towel from around his hips. Axel had put on a little bit of weight and he had no unease about being naked in front of me. His body was lean with muscle and I caught a glimpse of his manhood before he stuck his feet into the legs of his sweatpants and pulled them up over his thighs and hips. Truth be told, even with the bruising around his eye and the addition of more tattoos on his pale white skin, he was looking better than I recalled. I remembered how he had been so skinny that I could see his ribs shifting when he breathed but now he looked fattened up like wherever he went had at least fed him well. "What are you staring at?" He asked as he approached the foot of the bed. I was eye-level with his crotch and the way his grey sweatpants clung to his hips left little to be imagined, not that I needed a reminder of what he looked like naked. His cock made an appearance in the form of a thick outline beneath the fabric and I prickled when I remembered just how big he was when he was when he was fully erect. It was difficult to admit to myself the heartbreaking disappointment I had silently suffered the first year that Axel didn't show up on the Thirteenth. I had gotten myself so psyched to see him pull up in front of my house on his acid green bike. The months that went by I had occupied myself with thoughts of him as I worked with my Dad to get my own bike on the road. I wanted to show Axel all the hard work I had poured into it because of him but when he never brought up the tail of the demon procession, I felt my excitement fade into confusion and plunge into gripping sadness. He never showed up and my plans to have the best Friday the Thirteenth weekend were torn to shreds. My heartstrings were mangled. I couldn't bring myself to leave my room and when I had had enough of waiting I asked Max why he wasn't there. The response I got from the President of the Sweet Demons was less than satisfactory. I was told to forget about him and just have a nice time to which I agreed but secretly I knew that I would be doing no such thing. Not with him missing. "Angel... You just going to sit there staring at my dick?" Shaking my head, I looked up at him and tried to hide a smile. "I... Sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm tired." "So am I." Without a further exchange of words, Axel turned off the lamp and crawled into the bed beside me to get under the same covers I was using. I followed his lead and laid down too. There was about a foot of space between us that remained untouched for a couple of minutes until one of us decided to sack up and close it. Axel shifted towards me and touched my hip. "The only thing I want more than sleep right now is that pussy," he whispered. "God, I've been thinking about putting my cock in that tight little slit for so long but I can't possibly do you the way I want to right now. Not yet." "You so boldly assume I'm going to just lay back and let you fuck me again after all this time?" "Yes. Not right now but... Yes. You will. When we wake up in the morning I promise you that I'm going to fuck you and you're going to let it happen. Not only that but you're going to like it." Axel did not know how to beat around the bush. He said what he meant and it had turned out to be true. By the time morning rolled around, after a solid five hours of sleep, I woke up feeling needier than I ever had before in my life and he was right there for me to curl into. I reached down and ran my flattened palm over the crotch of his sweatpants and looked down to watch him harden. His eyes were closed but he moaned all the same and smiled, "see? I told you." Admitting to myself that I missed him tasted bad in my throat so I never said it out loud. However, it was as true as it always had been. I was so happy to open my eyes and see him laying there beside me. It was the first time I truly felt safe on my journey across the country. Axel rolled over onto his back and quietly enjoyed the feeling of me palming his cock through his pants. He pushed down the blanket so he could look down and watch me stroke his shaft over the fabric. It elated me each second he grew harder, his breath cutting shorter, abdomen clenching and flexing. "Oh, fuck, mommy. Yes. Love it when you touch me and get me all hard," he purred. "Mm-hmm, I know you do, dirty boy." "Yes, I'm so dirty. I think about my mommy touching me all the time. Oh, fuck," he stared down his body as I pulled the front of his sweatpants away so I could grip his shaft completely. "Yeah... Touch me. Play with that filthy boy cock." I hummed as a thrill of arousal bubbled in my chest and careened down my torso to explode between my legs. Axel turned his face to me and begged a kiss and without a moment of hesitation I gladly pressed my lips to his. In the back of my mind, I had so many questions but I chose to ignore them in those heated moments. Kissing him tasted good and the moment his tongue touched mine I reveled in the sweetness of his saliva. My grip tightened around his cock and he flinched away with a soft gasp, settling back down once I began massaging up and down the length of it, paying special attention to the ridge of the head before dropping down to lightly squeeze his balls. "Oh! I'm a fucking bad boy, mommy. Oh my GOD, am I a bad boy." Axel shook his head like he was coming out of a trance and quickly flipped onto his side to face me. His hand dove into my shorts, seeking out the best place for him to rest the tip of his index finger on and once he found it I groaned. He gasped as if he had found something that he had hidden away long ago and had just unearthed again. "Oh my," He purred, dragging the tip of his finger down to dip into my warmth. "Did I ever miss this gorgeous little pussy." He took his hand out of my underwear only so he could push my shorts down my hips. I helped him along the way by kicking them off and letting my knees fall apart so he had better access to me. His eyes went wandering and he also pulled the blanket back so he could turn his gaze softly between my legs. "Fuck... Can I just? Mmm, let me, please? I want to say hello." I nodded my head and soon he was shuffling down the bed, lifting one of my legs up so he could duck under it and get really close to my opening. The way he stared at my pussy before gently rubbing over it with his thumb was enough to make my spine curl. His green eyes landed back on my face and he smiled before letting his tongue loll out of his mouth to lick tantalizingly slow from my wettened hole to my clit and back down again. The hot breath that aerated from his mouth only added to the joyous sensation. "My God, you taste sweet. Looks so good too. Oh, mommy... Did you miss me? Did you miss me the way I missed you?" Axel began lapping at me feverishly, alternating between that and gently sucking at the part of me responsible for allowing this all to happen in the first place. I knew that I shouldn't have let him win me over so easily but I couldn't deny myself the pleasure of having his face between my legs again. Especially when he looked up at me with feigned innocence and had no real idea of what he was doing to me internally. It was all so very devious, the way he could seduce me but I'm sure he would have said the same about me. Not once did I pause and think about the past when he had made it a big deal that he wouldn't go anywhere near me with his mouth unless I begged him too. I couldn't help but wonder what inside of him had changed. Why did he suddenly have no inhibitions when it came to the unknown curse that had been bestowed on him? Whatever had happened, I was happy that he had gained solace from the self-consciousness I had known him to have. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to watch him flick his tongue over my pussy lips and suck gentle little circles over my clit with those luscious lips of his. The more I moaned the more finesse he put into eating me out. He hooked his thumbs under my knees and pushed me back so I could see exactly what he was doing. "Oh yeah, you like watching me eat that pussy, don't you, mommy? Mmm, feels so good, doesn't it? How would you like it if I just pushed my whole fucking tongue inside of that wet little cunt? Huh? You think you would like that too?" I nodded vigorously and sighed when he forced himself inside of me to clean up all the juice he was helping make. The only time he pulled away was to drop a long string of spit onto my clit before smacking it firmly using the tips of his four fingers. He smiled as I squealed and continued spanking me, moving down my thighs and even pushing me further back so he could smack my ass. "Fuck, baby! You get my cock so fucking hard," He pulled the waistband of his sweatpants further down and proved that he was, indeed, hard enough to stand at attention before he inched up to me. "I want inside that pussy, please." "Yes, bad boy. Give me that cock." The intrusion was as girthy and fulfilling as I had remembered. Axel had no shortcomings when it came to what was between his legs and as he spread me apart with every inch of his length I couldn't help but arch and moan. Every ridge of his cock I could feel pumping and pulsing with blood. His eyes rolled hard and when he looked back down at me he smiled, "I'm gonna fucking wreck this cunt." Axel snapped his hips into me once with brute force and the headboard came off the wall and slammed back into it with the motion. After the first thrust, he started to laugh a little. He dipped down low and kissed me again as his rocking started to pick up speed. It wasn't long before he lifted me up and tossed me onto my stomach, pressing his hand down on my back so that I would arch up for him. "Look at this sweet pussy just making a big fucking mess for me. Oh, God. All that gorgeous pussy juice, just for me." He angled into me harshly and soon laid his torso over my back so he could hang onto my hair and whisper in my ear. "Last time I checked, you liked getting filled up with cum. Don't tell me that's changed at all, has it?" "No!" "Good, because guess what? I'm going to fill that cunt up so full of my cum you're gonna feel it leaking out of you for days. Yeah. That's right, mommy. You excited?" "Do it, baby. Come inside of me." He squeezed me in his arms tight and never moved from his position over top of me. "Tell me. Come on. Help me come. Tell me how much you want all my dirty boy cum." I twisted my head around so I could kiss him and bite his bottom lip. "Go on, baby. Blow that fucking load inside for me. Right inside mommy's pussy. You can do it." Once again, Axel wasn't satisfied with the position and lifted me up, swapping our places so that I was on top of him. He nodded happily as I tossed my hair over my shoulder and pushed myself up with my palms on his chest. "I want to watch you fuck my cock. Come on, do it for me." From the position, I could see all of the ways his expression changed from helpless, to controlling, to frantic. He reached up and clamped onto my breasts, giving one a little smack as I rode him. The slick sounds of his cock jamming into me mixed with the vibrations of him moaning filled the room and became the soundtrack to my life. Looking down at Axel beneath me, lips glistening with moisture and eyes rolling in pleasure, it felt like something I had dreamed about in recent times; an image I conjured for myself to fill the void that he left when he didn't come back. "Spit in my mouth," Axel hissed. "Hit me. Hit me in the face, baby. Come on... Do it. Slap me." I sucked up all the saliva I could muster from the corners of my mouth and let it fall from my pursed lips, onto his eager tongue. He gripped one of my wrists and rose it to his face and forced me to slap him until I started doing it by myself. "Yes, hit me! Fucking slap me hard. I'm so bad, you know I deserve it!" His aggression transferred onto me and I arced my elbow up and slapped him across the face as hard as I could and when the blow landed I felt a distinct twinge in his whole body. His eyes all but disappeared for a moment before rolling back down to stare up at me again. "Oh, FUCK! I missed you. I missed you, mommy. I missed when you used to ride my cock and let me come inside of you." "I'm here, baby." "Help me come. Please. Fuck me." I didn't need the encouragements but the way filth poured from his mouth was heady and caused me all sorts of emotions that I didn't know I was capable of. I was elated to see him and to know that he wasn't a dead body in a foreign land. We had only spent a weekend together and that was it. It wasn't like we were long-lost lovers yet I couldn't help but feel like I had lost him anyway. Seeing his gorgeous, beat up face again brought back a memory of when I had no real worries. Since my life had gone to shit, our reunion felt like a blessing I didn't know I needed until he was tilting up from the bed, taking my body with him as I coaxed him to come. The first time, he came with a kind of drama that was mostly reserved for the end of an X-rated film. There was no way that if anyone else was occupying the top floor of the clubhouse that they didn't hear Axel coming violently. He acted as if he had never come in his life and all of his built-up fluids came crashing through a floodgate. It was a string of non-stop cries for his mommy and moans that sounded like the sweetest melody ever written. His heavy panting came next and I rose and fell on his body as he convulsed and tried to catch his breath. The time it took for him to cool down was scarce and it wasn't long until he was staring back up at me with evil thoughts dancing around in his head. He pulled me down onto him and flipped me onto the bed, pulling his still-leaking cock out of me so he could admire his seed dribbling out of my pussy. "Mm. Mm-hmm. That's where my cum belongs. Right up in that nice little warm cunt. I hope you're on the pill because I just dumped a truckload of babies inside of you, sweetheart." I smirked at him, "don't you think it's a little late to be bringing that up?" Axel shrugged his bare shoulders carelessly and said, "Oops?" We laid in the bed a little while longer just breathing and letting our hearts settle. He began to stroke my skin with kindness and love in his eyes and it was strange to feel that kind of emotion directed at me and have it not bother me. "I really did miss you, you know that? I wanted to see you. I did." "I missed you too. I thought I would never see you again," I admitted. He sighed, "what would you have done?" "What do you mean?" "I mean," he reiterated. "What would you have done if I had never come back?" Blind-sided by his question, I withdrew from his touch, "I don't... I don't know. I don't want to think about that." Axel smiled, satisfied with my answer and pulled me closer to him so he could stroke his fingers through my hair. "Fuck, I missed you, Angel. And I miss everyone else. I miss the guys. I miss... Civilization." "Where did you go?" I pressed him. "It's really hard to explain," he dismissed. "No, no. No, no, no! Don't do this again," I warned. "Don't do that!" "Do what?" "Don't withhold the truth from me when I ask you about things. If you're going to be like that then I don't want this." "This? What do you mean?" I withdrew from him further, a glare heavy on my brow. "Us. I don't want to be involved if you're just going to play the whole mystery-card game. I'm done with that." "Angel... Just... be quiet. I will tell you about everything, I promise. But not right now. Come on... I'm starving. Let's get on our bikes and go get something to eat. We have time. Nothing but time." I inched back into his arms but not without a hint of skepticism. He was right, after all. We did have nothing but time or at least, I did. I had dedicated my life to the long, hard road and expelled all responsibility I had or upheaved it onto others so I could do what I set out to do. It was in my blood to act selfishly.

[chiseler]

FATS WALLER: Baby Elephant Patter

Was Fats Waller put on this earth to send up inane pop songs, or did Tin Pan Alley busy itself churning out an endless supply of vapid tunes just to feed his enormous appetite for ridicule? Either way, it wasn’t a bad deal: while he was irrepressible in his vocal shenanigans and merciless in his mockery of cornball lyrics, Waller also bestowed on assembly-line songs unwarranted beauty. His touch on the piano was like a hummingbird’s wings, like sunlight scattering on moving water. The great clown of jazz, Thomas “Fats” Waller belongs, with Oliver Hardy and Roscoe Arbuckle, to that brotherhood of fat men whose girth serves to counterpoint their buoyant grace and delicacy. His music is at once thundering, voluminous, and dainty, like the “baby elephant patter,” he invokes in “Your Feets Too Big,” or like one of Disney’s hippo ballerinas twirling on pointe.

Waller’s own compositions are subtle and elegant, never hard-selling their melodies, but floating with insouciant ease and lingering like a complex perfume. His best songs were written with lyricist Andy Razaf, whose full—indeed overflowing—name was Andreamenentania Paul Razafinkerierfo, and whose great-aunt was the queen of Madagascar. Razaf’s lyrics for “Ain’t Misbehavin’” and “Honeysuckle Rose” fit the tunes so well that the words and music seem to be born from a single thought. He also wrote the bitter lyrics for “(What Did I Do To Be So) Black and Blue?” which started as the complaint of a dark-skinned woman over men’s preference for lighter complexions (“All the race fellows crave high yellows”), but which Louis Armstrong stripped down and turned into an angry lament about being judged by one’s skin color. This transformation wouldn’t have worked so well if Waller’s melody hadn’t had the depth and authority of the blues.

Fats Waller is often accused of having wasted his vast composing talents, and he never earned a full place in the Great American Songbook despite the popularity of his two best-known songs. But he turned out a lot more delightful if too little known songs, from catchy toe-tappers like “Crazy ‘Bout My Baby” and “Aintcha Glad?” to lovely, softer tunes with a pensive touch, like “Blue Turning Grey Over You” and “I’ve Got a Feeling I’m Falling.” It is proper to lament that he didn’t record more instrumentals displaying his full musical talents, and that he was forced by the commercial demands of his record label to be instead an entertainer and comedian—but his comic performances are so marvelous that I can’t put my heart into such a complaint. After all, great musical comedians are rarer than great pianists.

The triteness and sentimentality that plagued popular song of the jazz age was Waller’s unfailing spring of humor. (The glories of Porter, the Gershwins, Rodgers & Hart et al. rose above this morass, but Waller rarely got to sing any great songs besides his own.) Once you’ve heard him make light of a shopworn lyric, you will never again be able to hear a straight rendition without snickering. Above all, he gleefully skewers the melodramatic hyperbole larded into love songs: if you break my heart I’ll die. In “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie,” Fats updates this to, “If you break my heart I’ll break your jaw and then I’ll die,” and in “Stay,” a duet with a female singer, when she sighs lugubriously, “And please believe me / Without you I would die,” he interjects, “’Course, I ain’t gonna let her die—no, I might kill her lightly…” He salvages (and savages) “The Curse of an Aching Heart,” a self-pitying bit of rubbish, with a spoken introduction: “Yeah, this is me—look at me, look at me! I look like something the cats had in the alley last night…” Then he sings the rest of the song like a drunken Pagliacci. Listen to a lot of Waller’s recordings, and the whole enterprise of the love song teeters on its throne, raising the question of whether passion can coexist with a lively sense of the absurd. (Irving Berlin wrote a song on this subject, lamenting, “I want to be romantic, but I haven’t a chance, / You’ve got a sense of humor, and humor is death to romance.”)

Alfred Appel, Jr. justly titled Waller the “King of Razz.”

All this clowning can’t conceal the iridescent brilliance of his playing, with its springy stride rhythm and gossamer arpeggios. No other pianist gave a more accurate demonstration of “tickling the ivories.” Occasionally, as though giving voice to his piano, he would cry, “Aw, the ticklin’ is so terrific!” He punctuates instrumental sections with exhortations to the band, a six-piece ensemble dubbed His Rhythm: conversing with the soloists (“Boy, would you plunk them strings? Plunk ‘em, plunk ‘em!”), and the instruments, as when he demands of a disgruntled-sounding muted trombone: “Who is you growlin’ at, woman?” He knowingly and sarcastically uses this kind of fractured grammar, so offensively imitated by white lyricists like Berlin (“It’s just the bestest band what am, honey lamb”), then turns it on its head by translating “your feets too big” into the peerlessly pompous, “Your pedal extremities are colossal.”

All the interjections, wordplay and verbal slapstick were ad-libbed, as he plowed through piles of mostly mediocre or worse songs he’d never seen before in marathon recording sessions for RCA Victor, fueled by sandwiches and gin. He veers into a prissy, whining falsetto or a goofy operatic basso profundo; scats, baby talks, reacts with surprise to the lyrics he’s singing, and enacts little spoken dramas in the background. But for all his hamming and volcanic spirit of ridicule, his teasing is never mean-spirited, and now and then he gives a straightforward, tender rendition that elevates a potentially cloying song like, “My Very Good Friend, the Milkman,” or reveals an unexpected gem like the charming tribute to a liberated woman, “A Little Bit Independent.” Despite his comic bent, Waller’s singing has far more heart and warmth than reptilian crooners like Rudy Vallee put into their high-pitched drone of seduction.

He made far fewer film appearances than one would wish, since his facial expressions are as finely calibrated for comedy as his voice. In Stormy Weather (1943) he does a duet with Ada Brown, accompanying her as she belts out a low-down blues and slipping in hilarious asides in response to her allegations of mistreatment (“Suffer, excess baggage, suffer!”), while his chubby features rearrange themselves into a mask of supercilious disdain or flinch in fastidious dismay.

Even his eyebrows had rhythm. Thick, black and extravagantly arched, they had the springy calligraphy of Hirschfeld’s pen-strokes, and when he sang they waggled up and down, saucy as chorus girls’ hips. His face was moon-shaped and, in black-and-white film, almost moon-pale, a striking backdrop for the eyebrows, the huge mouth daintily outlined with a mustache, and the round black eyes, which rolled dramatically or narrowed to sleepy, mischievous slits. A derby tilted over one eye completed this cartoon-like, yet minutely expressive face.

Alas, he died in 1943, not yet 40, at the height of his popularity. The cause was pneumonia, but his system was worn down from too much touring, too much eating, too much drinking, and the stress of legal wrangling over alimony payments. He was the son of respectable, strait-laced parents, his father a Baptist minister; young Thomas used to accompany his services on the organ, which remained his favorite instrument. As a teenager he played in movie theaters, and his recordings on the pipe organ use its vast palette to surprisingly light and graceful effect, creating watercolor-like washes of sound that still swing. His vocal mannerisms often show the influence of preaching, with call-and-response patterns and shouts of soul-fired joy. Predictably, his parents were opposed to his becoming a musician, no doubt predicting he would fall into evil company—as he did if the story can be believed that he was once kidnapped at gun-point and made to give a command performance at a birthday party for Al Capone. If true, this speaks well of Capone’s taste. It’s something to imagine, this meeting of two men who were both, in their very different ways, experts at misbehaving.

by Imogen Sara Smith