#this fucking photog really said

[blkwag]

church people are so annoying

[asheurbanipal]

You've Seen My Picture in the Daily Globe

<<Previous

Venom, Eddie x Venom, symbrock

Explicit

4k words

Content: somnophilia, tentacle sex, canon typical violence

Ep 2 in series

On Ao3

Summary:

With knowledge from the multiverse, Venom and Eddie are waiting for Spider-Man to irrevocably alter their lives. Better to chase him down than vice versa.

Notes:

Notes on continuity: Getting this to play nice with SSU (Madame Webb, specifically) puts Spider pretty young according to the years everything is set. Just going with it. Playing with some of the comic timeline stuff for origin of Spider-Man. We're in a weird place of canon-compliance and continuity since the SSU hasn't actually created Spider-Man, yet, so I'm going weird with it.

Eddie Brock woke up with a mouth around his cock, teeth grazing his skin, long tongue draped around the base. 

"Sweetheart, again?"

"You said I could, Eddie," The Other replied through an occupied mouth.

"Yeah, but doesn't it get boring after awhi-ile. Ngh."

"No."

"It cuts into your time."

"I like playing with you, beloved."

"Oh god oh fuck."

"Play time" was something The Other had picked up from both traveling the multiverse and being one with the hive again, temporarily. The Other got three hours a night (while Eddie slept), to do what they pleased. With a few specific restrictions, of course. It had been mostly working to keep the balance. The Other had absolutely eaten a head or two. He could feel that in his belly. The crime sheet and police scanner, though, hadn't turned up anything to suggest a problem, yet. No dead Nobel laureates or human rights attorneys. And the vague splash of memories that got uploaded into his brain each morning didn't feel overly horrific. 

And every few mornings he woke up to being serviced. Sometimes he didn't wake up at all, the evidence on the inside of his boxer-briefs. He wasn't stupid. The act wasn't really for his pleasure. It was just the only way for The Other to get that same, extra special boost of neurochemicals.

The Other pulled his face away. 

"I can always stop, beloved," they said. 

"No you finish what you start, you fu-ahhhhh…" He hadn't realized how close he was to the edge, and just a nudge brought him over softly. He flopped over onto his back and The Other settled their head up next to his. 

"It's early," Eddie noted. 

"Until we catch the photographer…"

"Yeah, I know. I know." The Other sunk back into Eddie as he rolled out of bed. He didn't have time for a shower, but he cleaned himself up quickly. "If this was the last of my briefs, we're gonna have an issue."

I did laundry. It's sorted in the hampers.

Eddie looked against the wall to see a couple of hampers half-full with clean, folded laundry.

"Are you using your play time…to do chores…"

You won't fucking do it.

He started getting dressed.

"When you get a handle on this making clothes thing, we're gonna be set." Eddie hopped into his usual jeans, but only went so far as a white tank top. The Other changed it into a blue and gray Henley. 

"What's with the teeth on the front?" Eddie admired the look in the mirror. 

Practice. You don't like it?

"Nah. It's cool. Alright. Let's go."

A few more rounds of the mystery photos had come in over the past six weeks. Pictures had also started appearing online. Whoever their photog was, their strategy was…ineffable. The way this mystery figure was blowing up, anyone with such close access could be making bank with their photos. Staying anonymous they were leaving money on the table. 

And they were really trying to stay anonymous. According to Lee's "ink guy" they were printed at home. As opposed to mailing them in from a trackable address, they were just showing up in the mailbox that adjoined the building near a side door. A side door that somehow kept loosing the fucking camera feed.

Eddie volunteered to catch their photog in his spare time, and Bushkin had given his blessing. 

They had figured out when they dropped the photos off, at least. That had them out just before dawn, eating a bagel sandwich, perched on a nearby rooftop, out of line of sight from the mail slot. 

"We could just talk to Spider-Man," Eddie said. They kept seeing him from a distance when they went out for their nightly constitutional, but the fucker kept booking it before they could ease up on him. Their stalking grounds were the same, though, running the boroughs in almost the same order. Like they were drawn to each other, dancing around a center orbital point between them. 

No. Not yet. Want to talk to the photographer. They're special, somehow .

"Something you got from the hive?"

That or instinct.

Despite The Other's best efforts, little drifts of information from the multiverse had impinged on Eddie's brain. Mostly when he was sleeping. 

"Do you know what Spider-Man was like as a host?" Eddie asked, biting down on his sandwich. 

Eddie, please.

"We have to be able to talk about this kind of thing if we're going to get past the whole 'another version of you cried over my corpse' kind of stuff." 

The Other gave their version of a mental sigh.

I feel anger when I think of Spider-Man, in the abstract. But when I focus on him being my host, specifically, it's yearning. Like I'm angry because I want him so bad. But it's not…a good desire. The Other pumped the emotion into Eddie.

"Like an addiction?"

Close enough.

"You don't get the same feeling with me?" 

Hmmmmm. You are also addicting, Eddie, but I like it. Under his shirt and jeans, tendrils slid down the inside of his thighs. 

"Bro. I'm literally drained dry. You gotta stop."

You love it.

"I do, that's the sick part." He would have to come back to the "addiction" part of this conversation, later. His watch beeped the hour. 

"Okay, they didn't come today."

Bushkin's gonna be pissed he doesn't have anything new to post.

"Yeah, well, I'm technically out of office today, so I don't have to deal with him. Let's go intimidate some cops, instead."

"Brock, are you really trying to bribe me with donuts?"

"It's not a bribe, it's a gift with the hope you'll hit me with some information in return."

"Fuck you, Brock, " Detective Hinojosa shot back as she bit into a cream filled. 

He had caught her in the park on the tail end of her run. He didn't exactly trust any kind of government agency after all he'd been through, but he knew Hinojosa through a series of interconnected friends in college. What few friends he had. She was still a beat cop when he was in New York last, but had since both graduated to detective and moved over to sex crimes. So far she had proved herself as one of the good ones. 

"Look, I'm trying to get a read on these people running around in spandex," Eddie said, sitting next to her on the park bench. 

"The red and blue one or the 'black slime monster?'" she asked. 

"Oh he's 'black slime' now? I liked 'goo-dude.' That was fun."

They moved away from alien surprisingly fast.

I know, Ironic.

"Yeah, well, the black slime guy I'm pretty certain is a shared manic hallucination," Hinojosa said. "This blue and red guy, though…"

"You think he's the real deal? What makes you say that?"

"Brock, you know I can't give you info from ongoing cases."

"We don't have to do this dance, you know," he reminded her. "You know I'm good for scratching your back if you scratch mine. Then bam, justice served."

She considered him. 

"Why are you asking about blue and red? Specifically. What's your interest?"

"What is not interesting about a guy running around in a onsie?" 

She leveled a look at him. He held up his palms in placation. 

"Back in San Francisco, there were some rumors of some weird shit that was really similar to this." The lie was easy because it was rehearsed. A lot. He was good at doing a little on the spot fabrication for journalistic reasons, but a practiced diversion was easier. "None of us ever got the full story, but some good cops died." Well, one good cop, for sure. The other ones he took out he couldn't be so certain of. It was a weird night. Other people had died, too, but he couldn't be so sure they'd be nearly as important to Hinojosa as her fellow officers.

"Just want to do what I can to get ahead of this thing," Eddie shrugged, taking a bear claw. Hinojosa considered him again. 

"You didn't hear this from me, but he stopped a rape in progress."

"Holy shit."

"She said she was being attacked, then this guy in a blue and red wetsuit just appeared out of nowhere, threw a few punches, then tied him up. That's how we found him."

"Tied him up with what?" He had seen the stuff in person, but he still didn't know what it was. 

"Now, we're getting into police secrets, Brock.' 

Because they don't know either.

Probably.

Hinojosa checked her watch. 

"I need to get into the office." She poked him hard in the shoulder. "We never had this conversation." She moved off the bench, then jogged off through the park.

Good intimidation tactics.

"Gets the job done."

Someone glanced at him vaguely as he spoke to himself but moved on. That was the beauty of big cities. No one noticed below a certain threshold of weirdness. For New York that threshold was higher than San Francisco by a significant amount. 

The next passerby threw their copy of the Daily Bugle in the trash next to him. Eddie fished it out. He hadn't had a chance to get any of the papers this morning or check the daily front page online. 

"Oh fuck. That explains why he hasn't shown up at the mail-slot."

Front page, exclusive, the clearest photo so far of their mystery guy. Red from mask down to torso with blue arms and legs and red gloves. His giant white eye shields almost looked like The Other's but smoothed around the edges. And through the whole outfit, the lines of a spider web shape. 

The headline read "Spider-Man Menaces City." 

"That sounds like Jonah," Eddie sighed. "He probably finally offered a cash prize."

Sounds like we need to intimidate a newspaper editor .

"Nah, I think we need to be done with this and go to the source."

There was a rumble of disquiet in The Other.

Fine.

Have any ideas on how to track him? It was easier to talk internally when they were fully enveloped. The night was cold, but symbiote matter was warm. pulsing in time with his heart as he free-floated inside. 

He's like us, Eddie. Trying to protect the innocent.

So look for crimes in progress. Okay cool.

No. Wait. I can smell him.

You absolutely cannot.

Shut up. Here, feel.

The Other closed the loop around his senses. Eddie already felt what the The Other felt in this form. Saw and heard what they heard with heightened senses. His brain couldn't process it the same way, though, unless he let The Other into one of those reserved spaces. 

Oh. He could smell something. But…not smelling. A sense that felt like a smell because there wasn't anything else to connect it to.

Are you sure that's him?

It's the same smell from the few times we've seen him in person. There's something…distinctive about it. Sweet? I don't know.

They clipped along in a jog on the edge of the roof, then leapt to the next one with a long stride, following the smell as it got closer and closer. 

Where the fuck is this guy?

Two feet slammed into the back of his neck from above. 

"What the fuck?!" Venom slammed face first into the textured rooftop. They turned quick, though, catching the next blow mid-air. Spider-Man's body flopped at the knee, losing all the structure that came with momentum. Venom tossed him, his body thudding against the roof access door. 

"Don't fight me," Venom warned. 

"Monster says what?" Spider-Man replied. 

"Jesus fuck, dude come on--" Another sock across the jaw stopped them short and sent them reeling back over the side of the roof. They caught the edge, the building crunching under their claws. Spider-Man hovered above them. 

"Who are you and where are you from?" he demanded. "What's your deal?"

"My deal?" Venom replied, pulling their body up. "Stop fucking punching me and maybe--" This time it wasn't a punch that cut them off. A wail of sirens careened around the corner, EMS and firefighters escorted by police. 

They shared a single look before shooting off across the rooftops. 

Three intersections down they found the pileup, a semi on its side and five cars scattered around it, three of them smashed to absolute hell.

"Kid, listen," Venom said. "Stay out of the way of EMS. They're trained to handle injuries, and you're not. Unless you know how to stabilize a C-spine?"

"Uh, no?" Spider-Man stuttered. 

"Alright. You seem strong. Think you can pull a car door off the hinges?"

"I've never tried?" 

"I bet you can. Go to that red GT and carefully pull back the door to give access to the firefighters, then get the fuck out of the way. I'm going to do the same for the semi-truck. Got it?"

"Y-yeah. Okay." 

Spider-Man shot off ahead of him, and Venom leapt down on the semi. The shouting in the background became a gentle roar. 

Inside the semi, the driver looked up at him frantically, screams peeling through the glass.  

"Calm down," Venom said. "I'm here to help, believe it or not." They suctioned the door with some matter then yanked it free. He tossed it gently off to the sidewalk. The driver unbuckled his belt then started scrambling up out of the seat. 

"You might have a spinal injury, you probably shouldn't--" But he'd already flopped his body over the edge of the semi. "Okay, whatever." Venom grabbed him around the waist and brought him to the ground. Venom leapt back over the semi cab to see if Spider-Man had figured it out. He had, and now he was holding the car door awkwardly. 

"Just set it down, kid. Over there!" Venom pointed and Spider-Man flicked his head to the side of the road. He jogged over and set the door down gently.

Venom surveyed the area, looking for other places to help before they got out of the way. 

"Hey!" A firefighter had approached the semi, crouching low, ready to run if this was a mistake. "Can you safely remove the top of a car?" She gestured to the most crunched up of the cars. A few other firefighters were around it, apparently stuck on the best angle for the jaws of life. 

"Yeah, hold on. Spider-Man!" They whistled him over to the car, then jumped across the gap to land next to the family sedan. They crawled up gently on the trunk trying not to shake it. 

"Spider, stand on the hood, and do the pew pew thing on the roof and make a rope," Venom directed. 

"The what?"

"The thwip. The stuff. I don't know what the fuck it is."

"Oh, web fluid." He flicked out his wrists and two shots of webbing splorched on the roof. 

"Okay, I'm going to cut from this side, you pull the roof that way." Venom created blades from their hands, and dug into the metal of the roof. Together, they lifted the top free and deposited it on the ground next to the car. 

"This lady is really hurt," Spider-Man said quickly. 

"She's got a pulse." Venom hopped down from the car. They could feel her heart beating in her chest from a distance. Spider-Man lingered. "Dude, get out of the way of the paramedics."

"You two freeze."

Venom whipped around. A cluster of police officers had emerged in riot gear, guns up and ready to fire.

We could eat them, Eddie.

Or maybe we don't. Come on.

They launched upward, using the streetlight to swing to the nearest building, then up and over across the roof. A few gunshots fired after them, but they were long gone before the sound even reached them. 

"That was crazy." Spider-Man rolled up on the roof behind him. 

"Yep." Venom shot out a bullet of matter that wrapped around Spider-Man's chest and secured him to a utility pole behind him. 

"Yo, what the hell?"

"Just want to make sure you don't punch me again before we can talk." Venom pulled up a crate and sat down in front of him. "You're Spider-Man. We're Venom. To engender a bit of trust." The symbiote matter rolled down to his shoulders to reveal Eddie underneath. 

"You, too sweetheart," Eddie said. 

"Uhm…even if I wanted to take off my mask…" Spider-Man wriggled in the matter. 

"No, not you. Maintain your anonymity. I meant this guy." Eddie tapped his shoulder. The Other emerged in a slightly less jarring size than usual.

"Hey, kid," they growled, keeping their teeth at least a little clicked back. 

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Spider-Man warbled. 

"Kay, I'm gonna pull the matter back. You gonna be chill so we can talk?" Eddie tilted his head and raised his eyebrow in question. Spider-Man nodded his head emphatically. The Other brought the matter back into their form. Spider-Man dropped hard to the floor then shot back up. 

"Are you an alien?" he asked immediately. 

"I'm not. They are. They're a parasite."

"Fucking rude. I'm a symbiote." The Other smacked their head against Eddie's.

 "Kay…" Spider-Man shifted on his feet. "Are you…evil?" "Yes," The Other replied immediately. "I will eat your brains."

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose.

"They're not totally joking about the brain-eating…thing…They do have a hankering. But we are doing our best to be good Catholic boys."

"We have been in a church exactly one time since we've been together," The Other said. "And that was to kill my child. So…"

"K-kill your child?" Spider-Man froze.

"Yeah, no Carnage was straight up evil. They're host was a serial killer."

"Damn." Spider-Man dropped to the floor and crossed his legs. "You've been doing this for a minute, then? This, like…superpowers thing."

"I mean…I guess?"

"We've saved the world three times already." The Other preened. 

"Maybe a little," Eddie admitted. 

"That's so cool." Spider-Man looked up at them, the set of his face under the mask dramatic enough to change its shape.

"Okay, but…what's your deal?" Eddie asked

"Oh, well…" 

Spider-Man talked fast, words coming out quick and on top of each other. Radioactive spider bite. Changes in physical prowess. Speed. Something he was calling "spider sense." Sort of falling into crime-fighting when he saw injustice spring up all around him and other noble shit instilled in him by his aunt and uncle (parents by adoption). This had all started maybe a month before the photos started showing up. 

"So what are these wrist thingies?" Eddie reached forward to tap them, and Spider-Man pulled back. 

"Web shooters. Um…I kind of like to tinker? They're not quite right, yet, though."

"And you did all this yourself? The web shooters and the outfit and everything?

"Yeah?"

"Shit. That's cool as fuck. I just let the alien do everything." 

Yes, tell him how I wear the pants in this relationship.

A little more practice, and you'll literally be the pants. 

Spider-Man tented his fingers together in thought.

"This is going to sound like the stupidest question ever, but like…you're a dude?" Spider-Man asked.

"Yeah?" Eddie replied. Spider-Man shifted focus to The Other. 

"Are you also a dude? I mean like…you're an alien. Do you have…like…an alien gender?"

Eddie could feel The Other hesitate through the connection, figuring out how to answer that. 

"Klyntar reproduce asexually," The Other said. 

"I mean the two concepts aren't mutually exclusive," Spider-Man faltered. 

"Are you asking for our pronouns?" Eddie finally said. 

"Yeeeaahhh…I guess that would have been easier. If it was going to be awkward no matter what, I could have at least got through it faster."

"I mean, I--" but then Eddie stopped. He had always been a man. That wasn't really a question. Dude through and through. The Other made him feel like more than that, though. Like 'man' didn't quite cover it. This was the first time he had ever thought about it, though, and on a Manhatten rooftop in the middle of the night was not the time. 

"I tend to think of this one as an 'it,'" Eddie shifted the focus off himself with an even stupider statement. 

"That feels a little dehumanizing," Spider-Man said. 

"They're not human."

"But they're sapient, and they're doing most of the work. Feel like…I don't know…"

"Oh, I like this kid," The Other said, bopping their head against Eddie's. "He respects me."

"I respect you!"

"Oh okay, sure." The Other's sarcasm didn't always read, but this time it was seething. 

"I let you share my limbic system. How is that-- you know what. Not gonna fight about it."

"You guys are wild." Spider-Man eased back against the utility pole. "So, is this like…do we team up? You seem to know how to do this, and I don't."

"Barely, dude. Just picked up a little police and EMS procedure over the years."

They both looked up as a light flashed over them, the sound of a helicopter whirring in behind. A series of quick gunshots scattered around them. 

"I also know when to run from the cops, scatter." 

It was actually extrmely easy to get away. No one knew how to chase creatures like them or track them through the night. Venom rolled through their window, then became Eddie again as he flopped on the bed. He laid there in just compression shorts, kicking off his barefoot shoes at the end of the bed. It was stupid but it fucking worked once he got over the feeling of immodesty. 

The hugging bands appeared over his body, and The Other's face nuzzled his cheek.

"I know you respect me," The Other said. "You just like to pretend you're disaffected to avoid facing your actual feelings." 

It was annoying how spot on that was. 

"And I don't actually think of you as an 'it,'" Eddie continued. "At one point, yeah, but not anymore. Not for a long time."

"I know. I can feel inside your head." The Other spread their fingers over the side of Eddie's face.

"You're aroused," they hummed. 

"Don't….don't say it like that."

"You are, though."

"I know. It's the adrenaline." Eddie picked at the front of his shorts, but his hand that close to his crotch just made it worse. A tendril dipped under his waistband. 

"Let me handle it for you."

"No! No…no."

"Do you not like it, Eddie?" 

"No, I do. I just…I want to have sex. I haven't had actual sex in more than a year and a half." 

"Is that not what we're doing?" The Other spread their hand through his hair.

"No. It's just you jacking me off so you can get the vicarious dopamine rush. I want to fuck. " 

"I don't know the difference." 

Eddie stared at the ceiling, black matter creeping into his periphery as The Other wrapped around him tighter. They wouldn't know, would they?

"Okay. Do as I say." Eddie hooked his thumbs into his shorts and wriggled out of them, then rolled up on his knees. The Other shifted around him, following his movements.

"Can you…this is going to sound so stupid…can you make a body? Right here?" Eddie gestured to the bed in front of him. The Other rotated around their head falling down on the pillow. Matter dripped off him into the vague shape of a human form, feet still attached to him. 

"Is this what you want, my beloved?" The Other craned their head back into the pillows. "Can I touch you, now?"

"Yeah, but only a little and softly. Just until I'm hard then let me do stuff." Eddie sunk down against The Other, laying his weight in his forearms. He dove into a kiss. They were still working on this part. The Other's teeth were too sharp. Their tongue too long as it tried to creep down his throat. He didn't hate it. He just didn't know how to navigate it logistically. 

Between them, The Other worked his cock slowly, building it into a rock-hard tension. He pulled away from The Other's mouth to bury his face in their neck. A moan crept out, disappearing into the matter. 

"Do you want me to make sounds, too, dearest?"

"I know you'd be faking it so--" 

"Not faking. Just different." The Other purred and chirruped, the sounds vibrating through their matter and against Eddie's skin. 

"Okay, yeah, that's nice," Eddie panted. "Okay, follow my lead, here." Eddie pressed himself into the symbiote matter. The Other grunted, a sound he had never heard them make before. It was almost human. 

"Surprised me, Eddie, but now I get it."

Their manifested body changed underneath him, creating a soft, tight welcoming place. The Other started to undulate around him, pulling and pressing on his cock. 

"No," he said softly. "Let me do it."

Eddie thrust into The Other, the pullout creating extra friction as the matter clung to him. He thrust again, over and over. 

"This…this is what I wanted." He brushed some kisses along The Others jaw. 

"Is it really?" The Other asked. Their hands stretched across his back, legs lifting to wrap around his waist while never breaking the contact needed for their bond. 

"Yeah, I just wanted some control. I wanted to feel connected." He whipped his hips faster as the matter started creeping over the rest of his body. 

"We're always connected, beloved." The Other's hands curled over the back of his head, down his neck, until his whole body was drowning in it. The Other kissed him, holding their mouths together just at the front in a light touch.

"This is…hah…different." He pulsed into The Other faster and harder, rebounding against the grip of the matter. The thrust turned into rolls, chasing the pulsing the friction inside the place The Other had made just for him. 

He came with a stuttering groan, falling forward into the matter and letting it wash over him in a tight hug. At the same time, The Other gave a tight, full body growl, vibrating with the mirrored climax. 

Fingers ran up and down his spine. 

"Do you love me, Eddie?" 

"If I say yes, will you stop asking?" 

"Only if you mean it." 

"You're really concerned with the idea for a species that reproduces asexually." Eddie repositioned himself within the matter blob to find The Other's still manifested head. He nudged his head against theirs. 

"Two different things." The Other reformed some fingers to run down his cheek then created two more hands to caress his thighs. "I don't want to lose you again." 

"You're nervous about Spider-Man?" Eddie asked. The Other answered in a flash of uncertain emotions. "He's not the same guy you saw in the hive. Things will be different this time. Not everything is inevitable." Another flash of emotion in response. "I don't want to be apart from you either. Not anymore."

"Hmm," The Other vocalized before sinking away into the mass.

Your skeptcism isn't very sexy.

Good thing I'm just an alien slime monster. We need don't need to be sexy. 

The other kept encasing him, pulling around him tighter. 

Go to sleep. Our body's already too exhausted for play time, as is.

We're coming back to this at some point. 

Sure we will, dearest. 

"What's with all the kids at the front desk?" Eddie moved down the stairs of the Daily Globe with Bushkin, heading out to grab some lunch. The news over the weekend had blown up about menaces and monsters rampaging through the city. Bushkin had given him a side-eye, but didn't ask the question he very clearly wanted to. 

"Journalism club field trip. We drew the short straw. One of these little bastards already has a byline, though. Sold their photos of Spider-Whatsit to the Bugle ."

"Are you serious? The one giving us pictures is…a high schooler?" Brock hesitated with his hand on the railing, searching the faces. 

"I don't know if he was our mystery photog, but he's certainly on Jameson's payroll, now." Bushkin spit with dissatisfaction. 

"Sucks for us, I guess," Eddie replied, still focused on the teenagers. 

"Which one of you is Peter Parker?" Bushkin said as they passed into the lobby. A kid raised his hand. Mop top. Glasses, but they were clearly just plain glass. The light didn't refract through them right. Slim, gangly, but a little muscle poorly hidden under his long-sleeve shirt. 

Bushkin was introducing Eddie's resume to the kids somewhere in the background of his hearing. He was focused on the kid. On Peter Parker. 

It's him, Eddie.

Fucking clearly. He's a literal child. Shit.

More importantly, Peter Parker had recognized him, realization dawning on his face with an owlish expression. 

"Brock?" Bushkin was saying, "Anything to add for the kids?"

"Uh….stay in school? Um…actually wait." He dug into his wallet. "I have a few of these still." He pulled out some business cards. "Any of you want to ask more questions about journalism or whatever." He handed the cards out, making sure one of them pressed into Peter's hand.

"That was nice of you," Bushkin said at they moved of the building. 

"Children are the future," Eddie said noncommittally.

What now, do you think?

We wait, sweetheart. Whether  it's all inevitable or not, that's up to Spider-Man, now.

[alarrytale]

Can we talk about tzp? I’m glad to have found your blog since you seem to have the same opinions as I do about this situation (as opposed to the Twitter fans who want to force people not to talk about it lol).

I have to say, I absolutely LOVE that he is gay and married for a very long time. I’m so happy for him. His hubby seems like a cool dude too. They are CUTE! That being said, selfishly I wish he’d be more open about it. It bothers me that there’s this elephant in the room now and it’s not being spoken about as if it’s a bad thing! The fans are the worst! A fan met tzp yesterday in London. This fan said he was walking alone with his friend (lol…obv his husband). In the comments someone said “oh how cool! Glad you met him! Was the friend his husband?” And within hours the whole post was deleted. Last weekend he went to Joey Kings wedding with Garrett and a friend of joeys posted a Polaroid of them. Someone reposted it but so many people were commenting “delete this!!” I don’t understand why these fans are intent on keeping this info buried. Instead of just saying “wow that’s great congrats!” and moving on they just want it ignored.

I’m not really sure what my point is with all of this, it just kind of bothers me. Sure he’s entitled to privacy and I imagine he wants to protect his hubby since he’s not a public figure. I respect that. But trying to come off as straight feels a bit problematic. And fans saying he’s been outed is just ridiculous. Apparently he was very out before kissing booth and at that point deleted things and took his ring off. Which makes me sooo sad. But he did post his man several times since then. Just not a whole lot like before. I noticed he hasn’t posted him at all since the movie came out and he’s blown up. It’ll be interesting to see what he does now. He hasn’t deleted him off his ig so that’s good. They did, however, delete the video that people dug up of tay using the husband’s last name. Not sure what to make of that. Anyway I don’t think he needs to do anything or announce anything. But I wish he would post him more!

By the way it seems literally everyone in his professional life knows. First of all G went to London and hung out with T, Nick and some other cast (there was a picture), the director and a couple of the actors follow G, all the the photogs, fashion people who work with tay follow G, etc. So he’s clearly very out. Just not to fans. But I’m not understanding why I guess…

Would love your thoughts on it!

Hi, anon!

Of course we can talk everything tzp! He looked absolutely gorgeous last night! It's not fair, it looks so effortless! Styled by harry lambert too. He's killing it, both him and nick are. I'm so happy for them!

I'm sort of on the fence here. One one hand (what i'd like to believe) is that they're going for a glass closet. It's the perfect example of what a glass closet would look like. He hasn't really commented on his sexuality, but he's not afraid to be himself (manners and all) and have his husband tag along to events and posting him on ig. He just let things be without denying or confirming a thing.

On the other hand, it seems like they are trying (at least some effort) to make him seem straight (or not married to a man at least), deleting the taylor gerson video, taking off his wedding ring and not coming clean after being out for years before. I don't think this will work very well and for long. Fans and the queer community knows. The evidence is there and easy to find. Deleting things off the internet once people know is impossible.

The fans are guarding his closet for him (as we've also seen fans do for h and l - it's annoying as fuck...). It leads to fan policing, lying and the elephant in the room is growing. If his husband comes with him to events and are seen with him by fans, they're clearly not that set on hiding it. If they're pictured publically together fans and uas should be able to share it. Take cues from them, if they wanted to hide they would.

So since i'm not totally sure what they're going for here (closeting or glass closet) and i'm not clear on tzp's ambition, it's hard to have an opinion on why they are doing what they're doing. Other than the obvious reasons celebs are closeted in Hollywood.

[figula]

was gonna try and find this post on my blog to reblog it but tumblr being tumblr i couldnt find it even tho i searched for the words "wedding" "photography" etc lol which i definitely used in the FUCKING POST

anyway, the wedding photographer i hired, who is also one of my oldest friends, has not given us the pics. she told us it would take about 2 months. she told us this 9 montsh ago. lol

i checked in once and once only after the 2 months were up but she never got back to me

we paid her £1000 which is FAR below market rates, and absolutely a factor in why i haven't chased her for the pics beyond a "hey you ok?" type thing, but i want to stress that i specifically said to her even after she told us she'd definitely give us a reduced price bc she loves me etc: tell us how much to pay you and we'll pay it without argument, bc obviously i work in a similar type of field and i dont want to mug my friends off. this is fully the price SHE set!

bc she was ignoring me i messaged a mutual friend we have - she said that wedding photog is leaving her man, with whom she has 3 kids, this is obviously stressful... i just wish she'd told me instead of me having to hear it from someone else only when i asked??

i just dk what the appropriate course of action is really like i would be understanding if she sent am essage apologising for the wait and explaining her circs a bit more (again ive had radio silence since like the day after the wedding when we got a few taster pics sent over) but it has been SILENCE and even tho it was heavily reduced i did pay for like... what is a significant amount of money to me?

im feeling uncomforatble w/ doing it at all bc of our friendship (genuinely like fuck me for hiring a friend even a professional wedding photographer friend i was so pleased to have a professional wp friend lmao i was like ha ha i wont suffer like those people who just pay a friend with an iphone!!) so im probs just gonna hand the task over to ben bc he barely knows her so it'll be less awkward

[thelasttime]

Funny thing is Harry approves all pics before his photog posts them so he really said fuck it we ball

fuck if we ball (it’s because he looks cute in the photo so the sacrifice is worth it)

[backwardswalks]

i feel INSANE

i'm gna make a separate post w the more relevant stuff about the q&a and stuff that carter smith talked about so this is just all the personal stuff and me losing my mind lmafaooao

so. basically. me and my friend only heard about the screening on thursday night cause kyle posted about it on instagram and we realized that the theater is 10 minutes from our house, so we bought tickets on friday specifically to the passenger screening/q&a (it's a whole fest but we just bought tickets to that block). we get there and as we're checking in the guy who runs the fest asks how we heard about the screening thing and i was like "oh one of the actors posted it on instagram!" and this man goes "was it kyle?"

and i was like. record scratch "yeah it was kyle" and he was like "oh cool i'm buddies with kyle, we're making a movie!" and then because i am insane i pulled the saint benson candle i made out of my bag and showed it to him and he DIED and he was like "can i take a picture of this??" and ofc i was like yeah absolutely and then he was like "oh kyle will love this" and i was like WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNN and he was like "yeah i'm totally gonna send him this" and i was like ok i will die

and then we went into the theater and sat and there weren't like a TON of people there but a solid amount! so seeing the movie in a theater on the big screen was fucking incredible and it just. man. was so cool and then after it was over the guy running the fest (brandon) was like "is carter here?" and we hear "yeah i'm here!" and the guy who was two seats away from me the whole movie stands up and me and my friend just look at each other like

and i had literally crushed my cup in my hand during the last diner scene like this

anyway the q&a was lovely and i'll talk about what he said in a different post in case ppl don't want to read all this nonsense lmfaoaooaf but he's very smart and has such interesting things to say about filmmaking and it was just very cool to see his thought processes and approaches to filmmaking

after the q&a as he was coming up the stairs i was like "hi carter i'm the insane person who messaged you on instagram asking if i could bring my poster to have you sign it" and he was like "oh absolutely!!" and we walked back to the lobby so he could sign it on a table and we talked about how much i love the movie and i told him it's my #1 on letterboxd and a guy that was with him laughed LMFOAOO and he was just so nice about it. the festival guys had a pro photog there who took pictures of carter signing my poster so that is out there somewhere i am sure. also i showed carter the candles of saint randy and saint benson and he also died and was like "oh i am sending these to johnny and kyle" so he took a couple pictures of them as well and is going to send htem i'm bagjnkljkhfsdgjladfkhjlgdjlhkfgdfghjlk

and then afterward everyone met up at a bar and me and my friend talked to one of the woman filmmakers who did one of the short films we saw before the passenger and was AMAZING she won an award later that night which was so deserved and then we were just standing around talking and carter came over to us and we just hung out and talked!! we talked about the movie but we also talked about other stuff like his fashion experiences at FIT and his photography and some of his other films. he said a lot of cool stuff about the passenger but i'll save that for the other post to condense the info

we took a picture together but i dont want to post me on here lmfaoaooa but he gave me the biggest hug when i left and he was just so friendly and really cool and i'm absolutely in shambles

also just checked and kyle reposted the fest's post about me and my friend and the picture of the candles and i am going insane in my room dryheaving on the floor etc etc

ok bye

i will have to expand on my thoughts tomorrow when i’m more coherent and not absolutely reeling but. carter smith is an absolute darling and seeing the passenger on a big screen in a theater was so amazing. the q&a was great and then hung out with carter at a bar afterward and got to talk even more and he took pictures of the saint candles i made and said he’s going to send them to kyle and johnny and i’m just. ABSOLUTELY REELING

[forgotyouraxe]

i just think about this a lot

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

💙Sat 12 Dec ‘20💙

◟̽◞̽ LIVE FROM LONDON aka “5 TIMES LOUIS NEARLY GAVE US HEART ATTACKS AND THE ONE TIME HE RAISED OUR BODIES BACK TO LIFE” ◟̽◞̽

The hype leading up to the event was beautiful and nerve wracking, with Louis' Walls streams showing the largest gain since release week, new merch dropping (pink! So much pink! It is the color of rock n roll after all...plus it's available in sizes ranging from XS to 3XL fuck yeah, so nice), LTHQ and Veeps whipping everyone into a frenzy with a barrage of tweets, plus Louis tweeted “if you have a speaker round the house plug it in, if you're old enough get yourself a drink. This is going to be special!” (fan: if I do that my mom will kill me! Louis, basically- fuck that, do what you want!), and then he posted the set list which genuinely took my stress levels down like 90% THANK YOU LOUIS, I was able to simply enjoy the cool static-y countdown with its rainbow glitches for a few. But ofc any calm went completely down the toilet the second he walked out with a giant ass H on his chest (the first heart attack) and started singing maybe the best he's ever sung in his life?? My heart was still pounding three minutes later when he sang the softest, most gorgeous version of We Made It, standing in front of a giant rainbow wheel. The arrangements on every song were incredible (the string section? YES!). He did the best version of Through The Dark I've ever heard and that song is already my fucking favorite, That Version of Two Of Us, ACOUSTIC ONLY THE BRAVE, rock Always You, stadium rock Fearless, and we all know about his version of Beautiful War (WOW), listen do I need to list every song? I WILL DON'T TRY ME. But on top of all that-- the NEW SONG!! Copy of a Copy of a Copy is, uh, amazing?? It's just... so GOOD...so.. gestures vaguely at like... all of it. The sound! The lyrics! GORGEOUS, and he really gets into the figurative lyrical territory that he admires so much in others' songs and has said he wants to do more, I love seeing that so much and the results are just... sublime. Truly. Much chatter now about the similarity in sound to Sign of the Times, as if it wasn't terrific enough already. So much to love about it! And I even loved the inclusion of the fan videos on KMM-- they were just on the screens behind Louis, it totally worked with the general cool look of everything and didn't detract at all, and tbh Louis singing directly to the wall  of singing louies was actually so lovely and precious. In conclusion, his voice throughout was PHENOMENAL, the band were great, strings included (hire those women Louis take them on the road, please!), the sets and lighting design and direction were awesome, the whole aesthetic was just SO on point, Louis said it best-- “we smashed it”. YEAH. YOU DID.

Other things: you didn’t think I was done with THAT FUCKING H SHIRT did you? It doesn't just have a GIANT H in the middle, above that (like tags!) are five asterisks, *****. YEAH. Look familiar? Yeah to me also damnnn. So, “end it”, “Harry”, or both? Poll time! Hair update: in a combined “you always come thru for your louies” and “you fucking demon troll” moment that's perfectly Louis he DID take his hat off to show us the glorious mane but I'm pretty sure he also trimmed it before the show! And: Hot Oli is already in the rearview I guess; ah we barely knew ye, but a new photog has appeared on the scene: enter Josh Halling (prev worked with Sam Fender) taking show pics today, including a super cool one on Louis' insta. Welcome to the team? Being a better guy than Jordan is a low bar, so just try to clear that one sir? And keep feeding us those great Louis pics! And: WBK Louis likes his backstage vodka redbull (and onstage 'water' bottles), and he confirmed between songs- “the power of vodka for me mate I’m loving it!” (straight? no, gay!). And: was the CK hoodie Louis was wearing in the pre show publicity photo (thanks Hot Oli) Harry's CK hoodie? Or simply a Copy of a…. well you know. And: hey guess what-- I gotta hand it to Veeps, against all odds that stream was flawless! Plus they got rid of the chat which was probably to facilitate that but also I simply appreciated it, good call. The Genius lyrics page for Copy of a Copy of a Copy did crash after the show though so it's cool don't worry; we've still got it. And finally: lots of people are talking now about how cool the show was but do any of them matter except DMAs reposting the pic on insta with hearts?! LOVE that for Louis.

And for the aftershow we got Louis on twitter! He thanked everyone (us, the crew, the band, Charlie, the strings, veeps, “all my personal team”), and answered a Q about doing another one-- “potentially but I doubt it, wanted to make this one special so no plans at the moment to do another.” About Copy he said “it will remain in the set for the tour and live shows but not sure when/if it will be released yet” but also re inclusion on LT2 “Probably but I want to keep all my options open. Very early in the process. Enjoy the moment!”

The rest of the day was pretty slow thank god, just some prerecorded content from Liam (a wizarding world spot) and a tik tok that's just him in the dark, shirtless, reacting to a fan screaming (literally) about how he apparently got relationship advice from Liam via facetime last night. And today's daily alarm, which was actually pretty wild, Liam and Roman reading a whole long rhyming poem about waking up! Very impressive indeed, I especially like when they rhyme “santa” with “banter”, perfectly British! And then also a strange interlude of Roman talking about how to impersonate Keanu Reeves, okay.

[swimfuel]

have any fav davekat tropes??

oh very much so yeah

the classic meteorstuckisms/friends of convenience learn about one another on a deeper level/you know what i mean will always hold a very warm place in my heart like YES they come a dime a dozen YES i am collecting said dimes in those little coin paper roll up things im sorry i dont do it on purpose

i think i saw this on twitter or on here at some point but i will never stop thinking about twitter leftist karkat vs crypto bro dave like oh my god OH MY GODDDDDD😭😭😭😭😭

i dont know if ive seen this anywhere yet but letterboxd review meetcute>>>>>>

huge fan of superhero/mutant/superpower humanstucks in general and the davekat ones also inevitably hit like a truck

they are so great in my dubiously humanstuck au but that is for me to post about on tumblr in vague terms just to never actually draw

this is just a human/alien thing in general but i just really like it when [insert alien] thinks [trait human think as normal/take for granted but doesnt really exist for said aliens] is insanely cool.... can you tell that dimple comic crossed my dash again LIKE SORRY IM CORNY.............

YOU KNOW THAT ONE SCENE IN FAILURE TO LAUNCH WHEN THEYRE MAKING FUN OF DAVES GAGS FROM WHEN HE WAS 13. MORE OF THAT

the slight gilmoregirls roryparisisms of opinions column karkat being forced to pair with photog dave for the school paper

karkat to me feels like a bio major who doesnt want to go into medicine. a living oxymoron

i think well intentioned but ultimately overstepping and tunnelvisioned matchmaker karkat is the funniest shit ever AND THEN HE ROPES DAVE INTO HIS BULLSHIT>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

i read this alpha universe davekat and rosemary thing once that was SOOOO fucking good but idk if i could find it again

i know ive mentioned this on here before but i cant stop thinking about dirk and kankri having fucked ONCE (and a half apparently) off at college and its the most embarassing moment of both their lives and then kankri comes home for thanksgiving break and daves staying with the lalondes for his last year of high school and he cant for the life of him tell why his brother spits out his drink at the sight of rose's homoerotic rival's annoying friend's somehow more annoying brother arriving late because he was lecturing a random motorcyclist he'd almost ran over with his red 2012 honda civic on the way to the lalonde house. cue dave and karkat locking eyes in one horrible moment of realization as the night drags on. it progresses from there

[ramp-it-up]

cometa de hiedra

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Word count: 1.4 K

Warnings: 18+ Only (Cause it’s SMUT) Cursing; seemingly Dark Daddy Lin, but not really; oral, fingering (F receiving), car shenanigans, not much plot, just pure SMUT. Probably some inaccurate translations in here as well. Not beta’d.

This is a fic for @ivycomet‘s Birthday which begins.... Now. I hope you like it, Love.

Sorry it’s not very long. I hope you have a wonderful day.

Summary: Lin gets handsy.

Lin had been assaulting you all night.  

You were mingling and having a good time, playing the good hostess, but he kept jabbing you. You’d notice the flash of his watch crystal,  and you would look at him and he would hit you. Right in the eye.  The violence was just untenable.

And he was acting all innocent about it, playing the part of the dutiful, loving partner.

Finally, during the car ride home, which had you cross and turned away from him, he pushed the button to roll up the sound proof partition, then spoke.

“What is wrong? You’ve been acting weird all night.” He widened his leg to touch your in the seat, relaxing on the ride home.

You huffed.  

“As if you don’t know.”  

Lin just stared at you, those eyes menacing.

“No. I do not know what the fuck is wrong with you.”

You bared your teeth at him.

“Those fucking hands of yours, Lin Manuel. You’ve been using them against me all night.  Don’t play innocent now. I’m tired of it.”

Lin looked at you and shook his head, then leaned toward you, bringing his right hand up to your face.

You flinched.

He gently traced your lips as he looked into your eyes.

“What about my hands, mi amor?”

His hand traveled down and grasped your neck gently as you spoke.  You moaned.

“You know how your hands turn me on, Lin. You were talking with them all night, on purpose.  I caught you checking to see if I was watching a couple of times. You were trying to drive me insane.”

“Huh.” Lin smirked at you.  “Is insane a synonym for wet?”

 He ghosted his hand up the back of your head into your head into your hair. Then he grasped and pulled it so that the tug was the right mix of painful and delicious.

Then he brought his expert left hand up to your leg and rubbed all the way up to your thigh, long fingers barely brushing your pussy through your ice blue lace La Perla panties.

“Because, yeah, I was trying to do that.” 

And he leaned in to bit at your pulse point as his fingers roughly pulled your panties to the side and coursed up and down your soaking wet slit.

You looked down and saw his watch band peeking out from underneath your skirt and got hot.  You lamented the loss of control from this man..

You took both hands and tried to pry his hand away from your core, which caused Lin to grab your neck tighter and push you back into the seat.

“The fuck you think this is?”  

Lin growled at you and watched as your eyes widened in fear and lust, but mostly lust.  He felt your cunt quiver at his words and actions and as you closed your eyes and tried to will your arousal away. He only continued to swipe up and down your slit, lubricating everything he wanted easy entry to.

“What’s the matter, Love?  You mad because you’re such a greedy little slut for me?  Mad because your pussy doesn’t care how I’m inside you?  My fingers, my tongue, my cock?” 

He looked down at your legs quivering from his fingers not yet entering your canal.  He was teasing you badly.

“Mad because I cant enter you anywhere, and know that you were made for that?”

Lin’s fingers entered your two holes down there, the smallest one in the tightest opening. You keened, and he brought his hand up to clamp over your mouth.

“Be quiet, Baby.” 

Lin licked up your neck to your chin, moved his hand and covered your mouth with his, fortunately muffling your considerable noises.  Your pussy clenched and were about to go over that cliff when--

He pulled his hand away.  You tried to scream in frustration, but Lin covered your mouth again.

“I did not say that you could cum yet.”  

You whimpered as the Lin glare came back.  You tried to look apologetic and nodded at him, not not quite knowing why but to silently beg for release.

“Wanna cum, baby?”

You nodded again, lowering your eyes demurely and hoping that might work.

Lin grunted.  He loved when you acquiesced. And you looked and smelled so fucking sexy right now.  He needed to add another sense.  He pulled away from you, shivering and desperate.

“Turn around, kneel on the seat with your ass to me. Quickly.” 

Lin sat back and rubbed his hard cock through his pants as he watched you scramble into position.

You faced the window as Lin reached over and rubbed your skirt covered ass.  Then he slowly lifted your skirt to reveal your wrecked pussy peeking out at him from beside your panties.

“Tan hermosa y es todo mío.”

Suddenly, Lin kneeled on the floor of the car, turned your ass toward him and pulled your panties down your legs just enough so that he could have access.

He pulled you back toward him, wishing you were home already so that you could fully sit on his face.  But this would have to do because he had to taste you.

You felt his breath on your innermost parts and you tried not to wiggle or just throw your ass into his face, not knowing his complete mood.  

He would have loved that, but you didn’t  know that until he buried his face into you like he was an Olympic diver going for the Gold.

He shook his head as he buried his tongue deep within you and somehow circled it to make you feel the sun, the earth, the moon, and the stars. 

Then, he pulled his face out of the deep and inserted his  left hand’s infamous two fingers inside as he licked long, broad stripes from bottom to top, swirling, poking, then starting again and humming along the way

Shooting stars painted your eyelids as you tried to lean into it at first, and then when you were sure that Lin’s right arm was going to make marks on your thighs because he was holding  you in place as you started to run from your orgasm.

You didn’t want him to stop to silence you, so you tried to clamp your lips shut as you pressed your face into the leather of the seat as you came forcefully.  You prayed you didn’t make a mess.  

You panted and screamed into the hot skin of the car seat so much that you had to pull back to breathe.

“Fuck! Lin!”  You were panting as your legs shakily held you up as Lin sat back down and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his suit jacket. 

You collapsed and curled up on the seat just as you were and started to drift off as Lin shook you as the car slowed down.

“Not now, but get up and get yourself together.  There are paps outside our building.”

You groaned and turned over, lifting your hips to pull your panties up, Lin taking the chance to run his hand from your chest down to your sensitive pussy again just as you were covering it with your panties.

You jumped and laughed.  “I hate you!!!”  

You sat upright and straightened yourself out, opening up your front camera to look presentable.  When you were finished, Lin was staring at you with puppy dog eyes.

“You hate me, mi, amor?” The tough guy act was over. 

Simp-for-you-Lin, his true form, was back.

You smiled and leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, tasting your hidden secrets.

“Never, my darling.”  You pulled back and looked at the love of your life, and kissed him again.

“It’s just hard to breathe through leather when you’re eating the groceries like that. And you didn’t seem to care.”  

You looked at him mischievously.

“It was kinda hot.”

“Agreed.”  

You two were looking at each other, grinning like fools, when the car slowed to a stop.

Lin opened the door and climbed out, smiling at the photogs and waving. He extended his hand, which you took and as you got out of the car, he positioned you in front of him, to hide his humanity.

Had to keep up the Angel Lin image, even though you knew he could be quite the opposite.  You were grateful that he could be a real-life, human man with you behind closed doors

“Remind me to order a leather gag when we get inside,” said Lin, as he poked you in the behind with his still hard caramel joy.

Your eyes went wide just as the paparazzi snapped the pic.

----

Tagging:

@theatrenerd86 @ivycomet @lonelydance @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @sebastianabucknettastan @theatrenerd86 @imatyoursurrvicesurr @curtainremote @6lackfiction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Secrets ~ 3

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Finished this before work! Hope y’all enjoy.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

There was a flurry of activity around the jet waiting on the tarmac. You sat in the car, still cuffed, trapped, as you watched the crew hurry. It was barely noon yet and you were exhausted. Barnes returned and slid in the other side. You ignored him and kept your eyes out the window.

“Shouldn’t be long before we can board,” He said. “You look unhappy, your highness. Is there any way I can help?”

“Uncuff me, let me go home and live my life,” You snapped dryly. “That would about do it.”

“Get it all out now.” He chided. “The king won’t stand for your lip.”

“‘The king won’t stand for your lip’,” You mimicked and grunted as you leaned a bit too heavily on your hands. “I really don’t care what he wants and I certainly don’t care what he thinks of me. All the better if he hates me.”

“This isn’t about feelings. He will marry you regardless of his personal bias,” Barnes assured. “It will be easier, however, if he has a reason to tolerate you.”

“Do you really live by the forgotten words just because they were written down?” You scoffed. “You know how absurd that is? I’ve seen the stories, he could marry anyone--”

“No, he can’t,” Barnes intoned. “Those forgotten words are not forgotten. The kingdom remembers the agreement. They remember how much we gave to the flagging country of Ecklun. They remember we were promised a princess.” He looked at you. “You. We paid our dues and we expect a return on it.”

You shook your head, finding it hard not to laugh sardonically. It was all backwards. This was the shit you read about in textbooks or fantasy novels. It was bullshit.

“Would it disqualify me to tell you I’m not pure?” You snickered. “To tell you I didn’t save myself for the king I never gave a second thought about?”

“It doesn’t bother me and surely not him.” Barnes shrugged. “He’s had his own fun, but I would advise you to not be so flippant about it with him. He is not one for cheek.”

“If I am who you say I am, I will do as I like.” You snarled.

“Very well. I can’t stop you. I can only warn you against it.” He pushed his head back and sighed. “You know your history, you recall how kings can be.”

👑

You sat on the plane in a plush leather seat, white and pristine like the rest of the interior. Barnes was across from you, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Once you’d taken off, he’d quit checking his watch and settled into the flight without a second glance at you. You couldn’t do the same. 

Aside from your anxiety and anger over all that had transpired, your hands remained bound behind you and kept you from leaning back or getting comfortable in the least. You teetered on the edge of the seat and glared at him.

“What do you want, Duchess?” He asked without lifting an eyelid.

“Can’t you at least take these off?” You grumbled. “My shoulders are killing me.”

He shrugged and said nothing.

“You can’t expect me to sit through this whole flight like this.” You hissed. “Shit, you don’t treat me like a duchess or whatever you claim I am.”

His eyes opened sharply and he uncrossed his arms. He sat forward, his jaw ticked as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“You will not use that language further,” He warned. “Understood. It is unladylike. Unseemly. I won’t tolerate it and neither will the king.”

“Language? I’m sorry I don’t talk in iambic pentameter.” You scowled.

“You know what I mean. No more shits, fucks, and all that.” He seemed disgusted by the words on his tongue. “If you feel the need to moan, pretend you are a child.”

“Oh, gosh, will do, mister,” You said dryly. He raised his brow and his nostrils flared. “If I promise to watch my mouth, will you undo these?”

He blinked and checked the time again. He seemed to weigh the option as he angled his head one way then the other.

“Well, I can’t have you arriving in cuffs, I suppose,” He stood and reached into his pocket as he neared. “But don’t think I won’t bring them back out if needed. You understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes, I swear to be a good little duchess,” You quipped.

He huffed and pulled you forward as he reached around you to grasp the cuffs. They came free and he drew away. He backed up as he put the key back in his pocket and dropped the cuffs in the empty seat next to him. He leaned an elbow on the rest and held his chin as he watched you. You sat back as you stretched your arms in front of your, turning your hands and rolling your wrists.

“We have a lot of work to do,” He ran his fingertips along his short stubble. “A lot.”

👑

Time seemed to stand still. When you arrived, it was morning in Astrania, the rest of the day lost in the difference. A man in black led you down the steps to the tarmac, Barnes behind you, and another man. You were taken into the airport, away from the general public, and guided through the corridors meant for employees only.

Barnes came up to walk beside you. A sudden tide of displacement washed over you. It was all real. You were far from home, stranded, trapped, in a land you didn’t know. With a title you didn’t want. For a purpose you dreaded.

The man in front of you stopped short before a door and turned back to look at Barnes.

“Cameras are here.” He said curtly.

“Already?” Barnes frowned. 

“They must’ve seen the royal jet circling,” The man replied. “Apparently, they’ve been on alert since your departure.”

Barnes sighed and nodded. He unbuttoned the single button of his jacket and pulled it off.  “Just make sure you keep them away.” He opened his jacket and turned to you. “Here.” He tried to shroud your head in his blazer and you dodged it. The man behind you blocked you. “Come on. There’s gonna be at least a dozen photogs out there and you far from ready for an appearance.”

“Are you serious?” You snorted.

“The longer we wait, the more will be there,” He said. “Now come on.”

He threw his jacket over you and you caught it. It smelled like expensive cologne and sweat. He wrapped it around you so that you could barely see and grabbed your arm to guide you onward. Unsteady, unsure, you let him usher you ahead and a heavy metal door opened, a streak of light visibly past the hem of the jacket as you could barely see your own feet.

A buzz of voices and the shutter of cameras greeted you outside and you clutched the  fabric tighter. Barnes kept on, a few warnings to the vulture-like photogs as the way was cleared ahead of him by your stalwart escorts. A car door opened and you were angled inside quickly. 

You caught yourself on the seat and felt a nudge to move over. Barnes climbed in as you righted yourself and the door closed heavily behind him. He pulled his jacket away and shook it out as the tinted windows flashed with the cameras outside. He grumbled and folded his jacket in his lap.

“Well,” He bemoaned. “That does change things.” He shifted on the seat. “Driver. Go on.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Your arrival will be a headline by the next hour,” He explained. “That means we have even less time to get you… ready.”

“Oh, such a tragedy.” You snipped.

“Trust me, duchess, while you insist on making a mockery of this, you do not want to face the media without preparation,” The car began to move and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “They will tear you apart. What matters is their perception not your intent.”

“Ah, is that your job then?” You wondered. “You’re supposed to make a lady of me.”

“I am to educate you,” He insisted. “A tall and no doubt foolhardy task,” He growled. “But my king gave me an order and I will do what I can to mold you into at least a semblance of a lady.”

👑

Lush green fields turned to rolling hills. You watched the scenery, almost forgetting where you were and why. The picturesque countryside awed you and sent a chill through you. It truly felt like you had stepped back in time; even as if you had arrived on an entirely different planet.

Trees planted in careful lines closed in around the road and led to a row of tall hedges and you stopped before a gate of curled metal, topped by sharp points. It opened after the driver gave a short honk. The long drive was laid with mosaic stones and curved before the rounded steps of a great mansion. The double doors at the top were decorated with golden knockers and the handles were wrought and twisted elegantly. The car came to a halt and Barnes, as was his habit, checked his watch.

Your door was opened by the driver as Barnes climbed out the other side. He rounded the vehicle and beckoned you towards the steps. He walked beside you and you could sense him watching you from the corner of your eyes. The doors opened as you approached the stairs and liveried servants appeared from the other side as they welcomed you with eager smiles.

“All is prepared duchess,” He gestured ahead. “The palace has been readied for your seclusion. You are the only task left.”

“What a welcome,” You sneered. “I might be unlearned in the habit of nobility, but I don’t think it is usual for one to speak to a duchess in that tone.”

He smiled and took your arm, hooking it through his as he urged you up the stairs.

“The king has permitted me full reign in your training,” He said as he guided you through the open doors. “He will forgive me my own missteps if I can prevent your own.”

You dragged your feet as you entered the vast foyer. The floor was of white marble veined with gold, the decor shared a similar color scheme, and portraits hung from the walls, vast likeness of women in garb dating from the earliest medieval periods to the last century. You detached from Barnes and looked around.

“This is the Palace of Regia,” Barnes explained from behind you. “These are your foremothers. The queens of Astrania, each of whom took their pre-marital seclusion here. Each who married and served their kings proudly.”

You recalled the tradition, common to many countries but mostly retired since Victoria reigned over England and much of the globe. You turned back to Barnes and blinked.

“How long?”

“Two weeks,” Barnes answered. “Two weeks to ready you for the king’s presence. You will be taken to the capital at the end and attend your engagement party so that you can acquaint yourself with your future husband. Your wedding is scheduled the next week.”

“Engagement party? Wedding?” You echoed. “That’s… three weeks. Not even a month.”

“Yes, so we should get to work.” He neared and grabbed your shoulders. He pushed them back. “Stand straight.” He poked your chin up with two fingers. “Head high, shoulders back.”

“What are you--”

He rounded you and his hand gripped your waist and squeezed. He shushed you and ran his other hand up your spine.

“You must hold yourself like a queen. Mind your posture, your highness.” He said.

You pulled away from him harshly. “What are you doing?”

You were shocked as you felt a slap on your ass and he swiftly caught your hips and drew you back to stand before him.

“I am trying to save you a lot of grief.” He said. “Stay.” He bid as if you were a dog. He released you and came around in front of you. “As I said, head up, shoulders back.”

He stared until you obeyed. You sighed and stood straight as you could. He grinned.

“Let me tell you, Duchess, the cameras, the public, they will judge you even more harshly so you want to give them as little ammunition as you can so that they cannot turn their muzzles on you.” He girded and grabbed your arms, adjusting them before his hands settled on either side of your neck. He tutted. “You cannot hang your shoulders like a hunchback.”

“I don’t--”

“You do.” He insisted. “Now,” He removed his hands and walked backwards until he was near the wall. “Walk to me.” You squinted and he lowered his chin. He chuckled and waved his hand to beckon you forward. “Come on.”

You rolled your eyes but took a step. He hissed. “Keep your head up. Shoulders straight. Don’t sway like that.” Each footfall had another comment until you were right before him. He gestured you to turn around and he kicked your feet closer together and again touched your hips. “Let them know you’re a woman but do not flaunt it. Walk as if there is a string running straight through you. Lift your feet.”

He nudged you and you began to walk again. He followed not far behind and you heard his displeased grumbles. He fixed your shoulders, your hips again, told you to keep your feet closer together, head up! 

You were growing more and more annoyed by the second. You were tired. You hadn’t even had a chance to register everything. You were in a palace, marching beneath the eyes of dozens of dead queens, far from home and all you had ever known. It was all so foreign, so different, so startlingly unfamiliar. You hated it.

“Enough!” You spun to face him and he stopped short. “Holy shit! I haven’t even--”

He grabbed your hand and smacked it like you were a child. “Language.” He warned.

You tugged your hand back and gaped at him. “What the fuck--”

He took your hand again and smack it harder. “Your highness, let us not be children.”

“Don’t touch me--” You tore yourself away. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“If you insist on acting like a child, I will bend you over and spank you like one.” He said. “Now, stand straight.” He crossed his arms. “And mind your mouth.” You stared at him, stunned. He raised his brows and nodded to you. “Don’t make me count, Duchess.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Rumor Has It {3}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Nah.

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

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

“I think my marriage is done.”

    Zora and Kizzy looked to each other then back at you. They didn’t speak; it was like they were waiting for something else from you. “Hello, bitches! Did you hear me?”

    “Hold up, don’t go calling us out our name because you’re going through stuff,” Kizzy snapped. You rolled your eyes. She was right. You were high strung. It had been seven hours since your conversation with Chris. He hadn’t called you back, didn’t text, nothing. You were hurt and still pissed.

    “Is this because of the video?” You nodded.

    “What did Chris have to say?” Rolling your eyes, they knew the answer to that. You didn’t have siblings; your cousins were your siblings, and your best friend was your family. They’d been with you through everything, childhood, road to fame, big break, they were even there when you’d met Chris in France. You told them everything. “That great huh,” Zora continued.

“It was like he refused to see my side, he refused to say he’d set boundaries, refused to care.” You tried not to get emotional again. You hated crying.

    “Was this a productive conversation Riah or were you the pissed off wife throwing accusations?” Your jaw dropped at her insinuation. You knew they were on your side, but sometimes you just didn’t know.

    “I didn’t insinuate anything. Yes, I as the pissed off wife because I am pissed off. If he ever expresses he is uncomfortable with something I make a note to change it. It was whatever to be this way when he was single, but he asked me to marry him, it wasn’t the other way around. If it was what he wanted, he should move away from that behavior,” you ranted.

    “We hear you and agree. We just want to make sure you understand part of a marriage is also proper communication. You can’t press his buttons and disrespect him verbally.” Raising your eyebrow, you looked between them wondering if they’d talked to him. There had been plenty times he sought them out for advice on how to handle you. Yes, you could be a handful, but you had standards and refused to lower them even being married.

    “Did you guys talk to him?”

    “No. We know you Riah, we know your fighting style,” Zora explained.

    “Nothing will ever get resolved unless both of you actually listen to each other.” You listened to them carefully; you knew what they said was true, but you listened to Chris; he was the one who always had selective hearing. Then when he spoke, it was always to reply to something. He didn’t listen. Sometimes you wondered if he knew you at all.

    “Anyway, I have some days free. What do you say we hit up MIA and unwind?” Again, Zora and Kizzy looked between each other. They expected this. Whenever you and Chris argued you both disappeared for a few days. He disappeared with communication, and you actually disappeared preferring to get out of dodge.

    “You can’t run away from your husband Riah,” Kizzy informed.

   “I’m not running from anything. I just want to enjoy my few days free on the beach in Miami. Are y’all coming or not?”

    You knew they’d come. Slowly they smiled, and you knew you had em. You finished dinner taking heed to stay away from any of your drama and listening to theirs instead. When you left, you were bombarded by paps shouting questions at you. “Uriah, any comment on the footage of Chris with his costar?” “Uriah, is there trouble in your storybook romance?” “Do you and Chris have an open marriage?” You and yours pushed through the paps to your valeted car.

Before you got in one more photog shouted a question; “Any message you want to send to Ana De Armas?” That one tripped you up. Your slick ass mouth almost went off and said “back the fuck up off my man and find your own you thirsty bitch” but thankfully you caught yourself. Keeping a smile plastered to your face, you climbed into the driver’s side and drove off. You refused to play the jealous, territorial wife that was not the part you auditioned for.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twelve hours later, you were in Miami being shown to your penthouse. When the three of you walked inside, you marveled at the interior decoration; it screamed South Beach. You smiled and walked out to the private pool and closed your eyes with your head tilted to the sky. It was beautiful weather, and you intended to take advantage of it. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. It made your heartbeat pick up thinking it was Chris. Glancing down at the screen you sighed out seeing it wasn’t him. It was his sister Carly. Sighing you put it back in your pocket. It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to her you just didn’t want to think about him, or anything related to him. You’d already failed your self-given challenge with a simple thing like a ringing phone.

    He didn’t call last night or text. It’s not that you expected him to, you didn’t—well part of you didn’t. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t hoped he’d call and apologize and say everything you wanted him to but you learned long ago individuals were their own people, no matter how much you hoped and wished for them to do something or be a way they probably wouldn’t because you couldn’t control them. It was a hard lesson to learn and an even harder one to stomach in a marriage.

    Last night you’d gone over everything minuscule detail of the conversation with him, and you didn’t think you’d been irrational. You were actually surprised you hadn’t gone bat shit crazy on him. in the four years you’d been married you could remember worse arguments. Yes, you did say a few things with a disrespectful tone, and yes you may have pushed his buttons with some things just because, and yes the comment about kids was a low blow that could have gone unsaid, but besides that, it was a rational, calm discussion. “Fuck,” you mumbled realizing you’d let the kid comment slip and it would lead to an even bigger argument.

    “Ready to get some grub?” Kizzy’s voice snapped you out your thoughts, and you pasted the same smile you’d worn for the last twelve hours.

    “Yeah, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

    “You’re always hungry,” Zora responded. She wasn’t lying. You could always eat. It was one of the reasons Chris said he fell in love with you.

    A few minutes later you were in a car on your way to one of the best restaurants in the area. With one ear you listened to Kizzy and Zo talk about some guy they’d met on set. You put the rest of your attention on social media. You scrolled through Instagram first not looking for anything in particular just a past time from point A to point B. you came across a picture of Chris signing autographs, it was the first in a series. You sideswiped to the ones that followed and knew they were from his current engagement in Toronto. The last picture he was posed by himself, but he wasn’t smiling, his jaw looked tight, and his stance looked tense. It didn’t come across like his usual self. Part of you felt a tinge of guilt that maybe it was because of you, but as soon as it washed over you, it faded.

    The driver announcing your arrival brought you to close the app and slide out the car. You were grateful there were no paparazzi. When you sat down and skimmed the menu, you quickly found what you were going to eat and wasted no time ordering. “Shopping next or beach?”

    “Definitely shopping, we can hit the beach tomorrow and make it an all-day event,” Kizzy responded.

  When your food came, the three of you joked like always. You were relieved that even with everything going on, they hadn’t switched up. You’d lost friends on this road they called fame. Some you’d lost because of your rising star, some you’d lost because of drifting apart, and some you’ve even lost because they thought your husband was a challenge to see who he’d sleep with.

    When you made it back to the penthouse, the sun was setting, and you really didn’t want to be left with your thoughts. So, you suggested a night of fun--fun you desperately needed. The three of you showered and changed. When you were finished you assessed Kizzy’s work in the mirror, she really was the best make up artist around, and she was all yours.

  Pulling up to the club, you could hear the music from the outside and see the long line wrapping around the sidewalk. Everyone knew this was the hottest club in Miami. As the three of you approached the security at the front, you knew when they recognized you. The two burly men nodded to you as they opened the door for you. Once inside the music became even louder. You looped arms with Kizzy and Zo and walked through the red-tinted corridor. At the end, you were met by one of the girls who worked there, she was dressed in a short, tight white dress and held a bottle in one of her hands. The closer you got you made out her face, she was pretty.

    “Mrs. Evans,” she began. Raising your hand to stop her before she continued you corrected her.

    “Uriah is fine.” She smiled, then held out the bottle she carried. Taking it, you read it — Ace of Spades, the good stuff.

    “Tino, the owner, wanted you to know how glad he is that you’re in the house.” You didn’t know how he knew you were in the house, you literally just walked in. “Follow me; I’ll take you to VIP.” You nodded and followed behind her as she took a path that was close to all the other patrons but not close enough where they could grab you. Some recognized you as you passed and called your name. You smiled and waved while forcing the awkward feeling down. This was never something you’d gotten used to. You never got the draw of being fascinated with celebs. The fact Chris was a celebrity was one of the reasons you ignored the hell out of him and disappeared from the street festival you’d met at.

    When you got to VIP the three of you situated and popped open the bottle, the first round you guzzled, as you did the second. By the time you were on your third glass, you were standing up dancing to the music and beginning to have a good time. With every Nikki Minaj song, and Drake anthem and Reggae bop that came on you drank more and more and twerked your ass faster and faster. By the time Beyonce came on, you were sure you mouth every lyric of “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” a special request by Zo. All of your problems drifted, and the only thing you cared about was what your next drink was going to be, tequila, bourbon, vodka, or maybe something that really fucked someone up; rum.

    By the time you staggered out the club, the paps were there to snap your less than ladylike exit. You knew you’d had too much to drink and there they were to catch all of your disgracefulness. They shouted questions, none of which you clearly heard. As you, Kizzy and Zo shuffled into the waiting car you did make out one question “What do you think Chris will say about your party girl days coming back and you not wearing your wedding ring?” Groaning you dropped your head back on the headrest, you knew he’d hate it.

    The next day was torture. It was a day you remembered why you’d slowed down on your party days when you got married. You were hungover. What’s more, you got text messages from your team showing headlines of you across many internet blogs. Somehow they’d gotten pictures of you and your friends in VIP drinking, laughing and dancing. There were even pictures of your brief conversation with the owner; Tino. The pics looked suggestive, but the attention was purely one-sided—his side. Then to top it off they got picture of you exiting the club and close-ups of your hand sans wedding ring.

    There were so many comments and people who wanted to have their piece of the conversation. Much of it was from your fans and supporters agreeing with your actions. Comments ranged from women who were saying you should live your best life and teach Chris a lesson, to offering to put “the homewrecker”  in her place, and even those telling you to go off and do some straight-up messed up shit. There were even comments from men saying you were acting like an immature girl trying to one-up Chris. Some were saying you should respect your husband and work it out between each other and not over social media. There were even a few who went above and beyond to say you deserved this treatment because you went out without your wedding ring which shows the woman you are. It was all overwhelming.  

    Your team wanted you to do damage control and release a statement that explained you going wedding ring free and appease the masses by assuring your marriage was fine. You felt that was bullshit. Why should you have to explain shit? You actually did nothing wrong. So, you told your team to back off and let the chips fall where they may. While you lied down you began to wonder if he’d seen any of the headlines, or if he was pissed or if he cared at all. You hadn’t gone out with the intent to get back at him you just wanted to cut loose and forget some things. You knew to him it would look like one of your subliminal messages. He hated your sometimes passive aggressive messages. You tried to work on it, but sometimes you did revert.

    Your head was killing you, so you spent the majority of the daylight hours in bed nursing it. The only thing you could do was watch TV and wish you felt better. It was brutal, something you’d forgotten about. As you laid in the bed feeling absolutely sick to your stomach, you began to miss him. You missed him a lot. You usually would talk several times a day and text all throughout. He would tell you all about his day, and you’d do the same. Usually every night you were separated it ended with Facetime sex. It was one of the personal vows you’d made to each other on your wedding night when you had a second more private vow ceremony. It had been two nights now that hadn’t happened, two days you hadn’t talked or texted, and you hated it.

    You were so close to caving in and calling him, so close to just giving in to your feelings but every time your finger hovered over the green phone button you hesitated. You wanted to hear his voice more than almost anything, but you also knew you weren’t wrong for thinking what you did or feeling like your husband was being a dick about it. When you remembered all of that, you tossed the phone away and tried to get some sleep.

    When you awoke, it was night, and Kizzy busted in the room squealing. “Oh god Kiz, the volume.” She jumped on the bed sending everything on it flying into the air before it dropped back down. You had no idea why she was so chipper. She drank even more than you or did you drink the most. You couldn’t remember exactly. “Guess who got an invite to the white party tonight!” smiling and jutted her thumbs to herself with a self-satisfying grin across her face. “Zo and I went for a swim in the rooftop pool on the other side of the hotel and bumped into Christina White, oh my god she is so beautiful. Anyway she recognized me, can you believe that Riah? Then we got to talking, a few glasses of champagne and a couple dozen compliments later she invites me to the party tonight. The hottest party and we got an invite.”

    You didn’t want to burst her bubble by telling her you’d already been invited and had opted to stay in bed for the night. Instead, you smiled. “Of course, she invited you, and of course she recognized you. You’re the hottest makeup artist in the game Kiz. It’s long overdue they started to put some respect on your name, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re too big for me.” She smiled then rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll always give you the best rate.” You laughed together as Zo dropped herself on the bed as well.

    “So, we’re going right. How can we pass on The White Party, come on?” Zo’s voice was pleading. You’d been invited for the last eight years and for the last four years you passed. The last one, you and Chris, planned to go together but something came up with work for the both of you, so it never happened. You took up your phone and checked your messages. There were more messages from your team, some from you mom no doubt having seen and heard all the hoopla and wanting to check to see if her favorite son in law was being treated well. The only name evidently missing was Chris’. He still had yet to call or text. It hurt yes, but it also made you angry all over again.

    “Of course, White Party here we come.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  After staring at your rings on the dresser top for almost twenty minutes, you decided to leave them there. Your fingers looked bare; you almost didn’t recognize your hand. You’d gotten so used to the accessories that you felt strange not wearing them. Brushing the feelings to the side you set out for the exclusive White Party that was hosted by none other than the White siblings.

    Christina and Christiano White were affluent royalty. They weren’t actually royalty, but they were set for life like them. They were the twins of billionaire Randy White and his third wife ex-beauty queen Mariposa De La Verde Cruz-White. Randy was so rich he made old money seem like lunch money. Instead of keeping up with the Jones’ a lot of people tried to keep up with the Whites, you weren’t one of those people though.

  When you made it to the Versace mansion where the party was being held, your jaw dropped at the outlandish display of opulence. It was like Mardi Gras, Carnival, and Crop Over all mixed in one with bling bling everywhere. “How rich are these people again,” Zo whispered to you. “So rich, they could give every American a salary of twenty grand a year.” You’d read that in some tabloid magazine. The three of you walked down the white carpet and smiled for photographers. You made sure not to stop for any questions. You knew everything they were going to ask.

    After slipping inside the three of you got a much needed drink, you decided to go slow tonight. You didn’t want to fly with a hangover tomorrow. Scanning the room, you saw most of the big names in the entertainment and fashion industry. They all were dressed to the nines in their sexiest white outfits and no doubt trying to one up each other in some way. Sipping your drink in your own sexy outfit, you and your friends gossiped about everyone’s outfits, the thirsty women there trying desperately to snag some hot star for the night and even the décor. Zo and Kizzy pointed out some cute ones they wouldn’t mind getting close to. You gave the go ahead to go shoot their shots knowing they wouldn’t voluntarily leave you.

      You watched from across the room as they each flirted and no doubt dazzled the two guys, you knew them as Aaron Blake and Quentin Porter. They were cute but not your type. You made your way back to the bar for another drink. “The beautiful lady will have a glass of Armand de Brignac Champagne, make it rose̒.” You looked to your right and saw none other than Christiano White. You smiled, then shook your head. “Still your drink of choice, right?” He leaned on the bar and smiled at you. He was still very handsome.

    “Eh, everyone seems to think so. It’s the one thing I always get sent.” Laughing he sipped his own drink, it was probably Vodka, he sure loved him so Vodka, or he did four years ago. “How are you little Dove?” you took up the glass placed before you and drank half of it down before answering him.

    “All right. How are you?” Christiano nodded his head, then finished his glass. “Better now. Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

    “I got invited.”

    “You’ve always been invited. You stopped coming when you decided that I wasn’t good enough to be around anymore.” You could hear the disdain in his voice. Here we go, you thought. You finished the glass and raised your finger to the bartender to request another.

    “I never said you weren’t good enough. Those words never came out of my mouth.” Christiano nodded, but he didn’t look like he agreed.

  Christiano looked around again before he looked back to you. “Sure seemed like it. What exactly was it you said then, a month before you married some actor who looks like the carbon copy of me? what was the point of that?” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to get into this.

    “He doesn’t look like you Chris,” you clarified, using the nickname everyone called him. he scoffed hearing it. “Isn’t that his name too? Sounds like a carbon copy. Miss me, little dove?” You looked over him. He was in a white linen shirt and white board shorts. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down showing his toned chest and abs. Christiano wasn’t an ugly guy, in fact he was hot as hell, hot enough for you to have had an on and off two-year relationship.

    “I recognize that look in your eyes.” He stepped closer. Before the space was respectable of your marital situation, now it was personal, intimate. He lifted his hand and moved it toward your jaw. Before he made contact you slid back a little. “Come on Christiano, play nice.” You gave him your sweetest smile, a smile he couldn’t help but return. “Are you enjoying yourself little dove?” Looking back to your glass you nodded.

    “You always did know how to throw a party.” Before you could register it, Christiano leaned to your ear and whispered. “We could be throwing these together, as Mr. and Mrs. White.” He slowly pulled back, and your eyes met. Once upon a time you had thought about marrying him. You didn’t know Chris then, and things were good. Clearing your throat and breaking the eye contact you looked down to your exposed thigh.

  “I’m already a Mrs.” Christiano scoffed and nodded.

    “Are you sure, little dove? I’ve seen the tabloids. Trouble in paradise?” You clenched your jaw and fought off the urge to roll your eyes. “Low blow?”

    “You know anything you say could never hurt me, Chris.” He laughed and leaned closer. ���That’s right; you’re bulletproof, no shots fired could ever touch you.” You’d told him that years ago and meant it. You were still the same woman, but you’d never tell him you weren’t entirely bulletproof anymore.

    “You don’t deserve that, Riah, you know that right.” You shrugged off any emotion and looked at him. “You’re still as sweet as ever.” You placed a chaste kiss to his cheek and turned back to the bar and finished the champagne.

    “Come on, say hello to everyone.” He took your hand and led you through the mansion and before you knew it, you were surrounded by your old crowd, some new and some you’d seen plenty of times over the years. Everyone greeted you with hugs, cheers and a lot of vodka. It was like old times. The music cranked, and your friends joined you.

    The rest of the night passed with drinks, laughs, and dances. You danced with Zo and Kizzy and with Christina and in a circle with other girls. You could feel Christiano’s eyes on you the entire night, and you knew it was wrong, but you didn’t mind it. You’d never take it anywhere in a million years, you’d said your vows, and you meant that shit with everything in you. That didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun and remind Chris that he isn’t the only hot piece of ass that people want to get on top or under. Close to two in the morning you felt bold enough to give Christiano a dance, you kept it clean, but his hands roamed as they always did. Every time they traveled anywhere but your waist, you were quick to wag your finger at him. He always laughed it off. Christiano always thought everyone was fair game. Maybe you being there was giving him those vibes. You were far from fair game.

    When the sun was coming up was when you made your way out the hidden entrance of the mansion. Christiano tried to convince you to stay with him in one of the rooms, but you heavily declined. There was no way you’d do that. When he finally got it he made sure one of his drivers were on hand to get you back to your hotel. Christiano opened the door, Kizzy, and Zo slid in the car talking amongst themselves about nothing, they were drunk as hell. You turned to Christiano and nearly lost your balance. His hand slid around you, pulled you close and held you up. Your eyes met his hazel ones, and you shared a moment—a literal moment. You found your balance and pulled away. “Thanks.” He smiled and nodded. “Don’t be a stranger little dove. My doors are always open for you.” You snorted.

    "Which doors exactly LA, Miami, Greece, Virgin Islands, Bahamas, Mexico, Brazil--.” Christiano cut you off with a roll of his eyes. “You missed quite a few, but all of them. Anytime.” You knew just what he meant. He wanted you to leave Chris and go back to him. “Uh-huh.” You slid in the car as Christiano shut the door. He waved to you while biting his bottom lip. Another lifetime maybe. In this one your heart belonged to one man. As the car drove off you began to wonder if he even deserved it anymore. You closed your eyes, sighed and decided that tomorrow you’d worry about your problems.

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

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[surprisinguprising]

When we walked into the photo area he asked for Jessie's name and then recognized me from the autograph line and was like "Ahhh..." like bless this precious cheese Danish trying to remember my name love his lil heart

I said, "You remember the hair. Everyone does"

And he was like, "Yes! I remember the hair!"

A friend of mine couldn't make it so I told her I'd show him the picture of her daughter dressed as Brienne and he said "Gwen would love to see that" so now I'm on a mission to get Gwen to see this adorable picture okay okay okay

Anyways, he's very sweet and very tall and told us to have a wonderful day and I was like boo you're meeting like 3000 people and you're still so nice and everyone keeps asking me what he smelled like and y'all need jesus

And here's Persephone as Brienne <3

LOOK WHAT I DID AHAHAHAHA

I CANNOT STOP LAUGHING

I FOUND THIS FRAME IN A DUMPSTER 3 OR 4 YEARS AGO AND I COULD NEVER GET RID OF IT BECAUSE IT CLEARLY HAD A DESTINY AND THIS WAS IT LMFAO

MORE BUBBA FEST STUFF

Y'all thought I was playing about that Tennessee tuxedo? Naw lol he was dad af literally every man in my family has worn this exact ensemble

Like...

As we were waiting in line for his autograph my friend was telling me how she didn't get how people thought he was so handsome on the show. She was like, "I mean he's okay." When we got up to where we could actually see him she said, "aw he just looks like...a dude" lmao

Smash cut to the photo op.

We were getting no direction from the photog so he put his arms around us and was like guiding us onto the taped mark on floor bless him and as we left my friend sighed and turned to look back into the tent

"That is the most attractive man I've ever seen. " loooool All she talked about the rest of the day was him and how she just wanted to go and /look/ at him and and and lmao

*side note for someone weird racist nonsense: picking up the picture, the guy at the booth was like "you'll want a reshoot you're squinting your eyes really hard"

BRUH this is how I smile you fucking ASS

But Jessie was like WHATEVER I WANNA HUG HIM AGAIN

I refused on

Principle

But I digress

So we wandered back over to his booth at the end of the day so Jessie could L O O K and debate about going to talk to him which she did not, after all and this woman walks up and stands right beside her so they're both just standing there STARING AT NCW so weird why lmao

He's just off to the right, a few feet away. He'd stepped out from behind the booth as his line died down and was chatting with everyone and I guess he must have made eye contact with this lady because I saw him gesture to her

And this woman starts hollering at him hahaha

"Oh no honey, we're just admiring you from afar"

(Jessie's face turns bright red hahahaha)

"We don't grow 'em like you down here"

(I'm cracking up and mad that I didn't record it or get more pictures)

Also he had a 2 person camera crew with him and I spoke to the camera briefly, he said they were filming a documentary about convention so be on the lookout for that

[puthyflapps]

The hot gos on the photo thing is that they said apparently bobo used to set up photo shoots to help A with her body dysmorphia and he would go go them and help her out and she would always praise him. Apparently the friend of the photog dmed a blarke saying they didn’t believe her allegations because she would always say good things and sent them a pic from a shoot. Again, some rando reaching out to another rando and you do know abusers are not always abusive it’s so much more complicated

They really saw people starting to wake up and realize he’s an abuser and went and crafted another fucking story to make her seem like a liar

[convivialcamera]

Rewrite, an ‘On Deadline’ story

Dec. 15, 2016

“This is the last boarding call for India Air flight 144 to Mumbai. All passengers please proceed to gate B32.”

I sat with my head between my knees, passport and boarding pass clenched in my shaking hands. My fingers tingled, a cold trickle of sweat ran down my neck; the ball of ice that had been growing in my stomach since I took the assignment was suddenly threatening to choke me to death. I had to breathe. I had to get on the plane. Breathe, stand, board the plane. Breathe, stand, board the plane. Breathe, stand, board the plane …

“Ma’am.” I felt a warm hand on my knee, and looked into the kindly face of a flight attendant, who was now kneeling in front of me. “Are you well, ma’am?”

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Beauchamp, get on the fucking plane.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m having a panic attack,” I gasped out, between wheezing breaths.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe …

“We need to close the gates soon,” the flight attendant said in a soothing voice. “Are you headed to Mumbai?”

I heaved in air. “Yes.”

“Can you get on the plane?”

I sat up, trying to make the crushing panic abate. I focused my eyes on the horizon I could see out the terminal windows, like I was fighting seasickness, and nodded. I could do this.

I picked up my bag, and stood up, slowly adjusting as I felt my blood rush through my veins. I took one step, and then another, and then after a surge of nausea everything went black.

“Lady Jane. Wake up, girl.”

I cautiously opened my eyes, and Joe was there.

“Fuck. What happened?” I was in a makeshift medical room, and clearly not en route to my assignment in India.

“You passed out after saying you were having a panic attack while trying to board a plane,” Joe said. He was clearly trying not to scold me.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I groaned, rolling onto my side. I felt weak, like everything had been drained out of me. “I have to call my editor.”

“I already did,” Joe said calmly. I was clutching my hands to my chest, and he covered my cold, clenched fingers with his. “When you’re feeling up to it, I’ll take you home.”

Home. Joe meant his home, not mine, because I no longer had one. I had never really had one. I spent my childhood globetrotting with my uncle; I thought I had found home with Frank, that fuck, but that never really was one either. I felt a surge of sadness and frustration boil over and I burst into hysterical, gasping sobs.

“Oh, Lady Jane, come on, don’t cry,” Joe said, trying to comfort me.

“Shut up! Don’t look at me!” I curled up into myself like a shrimp, covering my face with my mass of hair. My curls stuck to the tears on my cheeks. This made Joe chuckle, to my outrage. “You have Gail. And the kids. And your studio. I can’t even get on a fucking plane. Who’s going to hire a photog who can’t get to an assignment?”

“Someone who doesn’t need you to go far,” Joe said. “You know you don’t have to go to Timbuktu to work, right?” He smoothed some of the hair out of my face. I let it all pour out of me: the fear, the anger and rage. I carried so much of it with me since Libya. I was still working on letting it go.

When the sobbing had been reduced to a snivelling, I sat up and shook my hair out. I wiped my eyes on the hem of my shirt, leaving mascara smudges.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long. About 15 minutes.”

“You never left the airport, did you?”

“Nope,” Joe said. It wasn’t the first time, after all.

He carried my gear bag and held me by the elbow, guiding me out of the airport and back to the car.

Feb. 7, 2017

I ended the call and and threw the phone on the bed. “YES! HA! YES! YES! YES!” I jumped up and down, excitement overcoming me for the first time in … I couldn’t remember.

“DID YOU GET IT?” Joe hollered up the stairs.

“I GOT IT!” I flew out of the guest room and down the hall, flying down the staircase and into Joe’s home studio, where he had just put down some new prints. I launched myself at him, and he spun me around once, and then put me down solidly on my feet. “You’re looking at the new senior photographer at the Leoch Times.”

Joe beamed at me. “I knew you could do it, Lady Jane. And Gail’s going to be thrilled.”

“Yeah, thrilled I’ll be out of her hair and her house.”

“She loved having you, and you know it.”

“Yes, I’m sure living with two traumatized, fucked up photogs has been just a walk in the park for her.”

Joe just looked at me.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get the kids and the wife and celebrate.”

Joe, Gail and I had champagne, and poured apple juice into fancy cups for Lenny and Josie.

“Claire, I wouldn’t have made it through these last eight months without you,” Joe said, holding up his glass in salute. “And vise-versa.” I laughed. It was true. “The Times is lucky to have you. And it’s only a few hours upstate, not the other side of the world, so it’s perfect.”

“The pay’s shit, but you are always welcome in whatever hovel I find.” I tipped my own glass, and took a swig.

It was time. And I was ready.

On Deadline: News in Brief I

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Umbria

He’s looking at you @dirtystyles! Be the world’s best fic commenter, get custom made smut!

A halene drabble in the Italian sunlight.

“Umbria”

"What are you doing this weekend?" The text comes through from a known number very late on a Tuesday night a month after tour ends.

Helene's mind starts racing. He said he wanted to do that with her in Paris, she is in Paris.

Is he coming to see her?

She would love to see him. It's only been a month. It's been a whole month.

He didn't say much in LA, just rocked her socks off, mentioned doing it again, or at least wanting to, and then she got on a plane and posted pics for him that were so bittersweet it was like drinking real hot chocolate in Mexico. She's trying to think of  a response. Something funny, and that lets her appear available but not desperate.

If those merde gray dots didn't appear every time she would just write something out and then erase it until it sounded right. But before she can decide between, 'Nothing set in concrete', or 'you?' another message pops through. He had his grey dots turned off, how did he do that? That was handy!

"Come to Italy?" he put a winky emoji at the end, so she flirted back.

"Bologna?" she had major nostalgia for Bologna, vibed herself to oblivion with her face in her comforter to remember the feeling.

"No, we've done Bologna. Let's try Umbria..." her heart raced. He wanted to kiss her everywhere, everywhere it seemed. But-

"Why Umbria?"

"I have a job for you." Her boss man, former/current lover sent. Oh, she deflated, a job. Well, things had been quiet, not really, but certainly in comparison to the whirlwind her last nine months had been.

"Ok, how do you want me to book the flight, what exact dates?'"

"Already booked it." She'd be pissed, but she knew somebody else had done it at his nod. He'd pitched an idea, nobody had a better one, or big enough balls to counter him, he got a yellow light from her, nod, boom, done.

In some ways it was very good to be Harry Styles, in others it was a lot of pressure. But he was easing into himself as he was allowed to be just that, himself, and follow his own lead, build his own brand.

She'd watched it over the course of tour, him stepping back from social media and his sex appeal and his cheek to find it again, anew, as he got more comfortable. And she got to be his eyes, or lens. It was a rush.

A rush she'd been missing acutely. That's what had been missing. Something was playing on the back of her mind most days. She also may miss the family they had all become, the Harry Styles Circus. Full of freaks and music geeks, all kind and lovely, from the top down.

She was always gonna go to Italy.  So she'd better get herself together, her go bag was empty right now, she had nothing for a few weeks when her next tour picked up. It needed to be stocked. Maybe slightly differently than her average weekend job.

As she packed, well, it was still hot in Italy she assumed, and he said weekend, and work, but gave her very little details, so she slipped in a few things, her trainers, trackies, a tank. And also a few sundresses, some lacy pink things. In case.

She'd let it be known she wanted him, but follow his lead. Helene loved being on his lead.

A lot could happen in several weeks though. She'd been busy, dated, been dicked, been disappointed. That was down to Harry, too. As her life had sorta revolves around him for a while, and her pussy seemed to want to too.

Henri was a frequent partner. Safe, fun, no drama. She'd come back from a disappointing date and called her fall back friend. They were both casual about it and could hook up and remain friends. They'd been doing it since art school. It had always scratched her itch.

But, his eyes were blue, a pretty blue, and he didn't have dimples, and his dirty blond hair was straight and though she'd always loved his body, he was softer than she'd like, and bulky above her.

His dick too. It didn't feel like it used to. Like more than enough. She didn't come, and dammit, she expected to now.

Harry might have ruined her.

She knew no other tour would feel as crazy beautiful while also family fun after that one- but she didn't know he'd risen other expectations too.

Helene impatiently waited for Italian summer.

The flight was so quick, she was stumbling off the plane before she'd finished her glass of wine. And there was a man with a placard with her name. She got the hotel without an agenda though. There had been in the past a printed itinerary at the desk or in her email. Neither were present. Helene was alone in an unknown place, with no work yet, so she did what she always did, grabbed her camera, her wallet and walked.

Umbria had been idyllic from the air, Perugia awaited and promised to be a treasure. The city felt like a fortress, there on a hill with its stone walls. They must be hiding goodies behind all those rocks. She was gonna find them.

The streets were old, cobbled, like the oldest parts of Paris. Her trainers were a good choice, any kind of heel and she'd be on her ass. And walking the medieval streets were a good choice too, she wouldn't even want to be in an cab, definitely not a Nike. She'd have to tell Harry. No handy face masks in Italy though when forced to walk. But the smells and tastes might be hindered by a mask. Those were golden.

And she found treasure, red gold in a tiny wine shop. She bought a bottle to ship to Mitch and Sarah. He'd love it. And a bottle for herself since she already loved it. She'd have a glass now. Helene didn't save experiences. She tried to live them as the came. Take the picture now, eat the eclair, drink the wine, fuck the boss. These were her raison d'etre. It's how she found herself alone in Umbria on two day's notice.

And there was a lot to find to capture momentarily in Umbria. Beauty in the air, literally. The light glowed. The air here danced, the sun was a presence, everything had a golden hue.

Whatever she was shooting would be like a constant golden hour, less filters and fiddling needed. It made her excited.

She took so many pictures come for herself, waited on Instagram. Was flipping through them as she walked into the hotel.

"Helene!" She heard Jeff's voice go up and her feet picked up speed quickly. Where Jeff was Harry was, or vice versa. Almost always.

"Jeff!" She kissed his cheeks and he bear hugged her, and he caught her looking for Harry immediately.

"He's already up in his room, this is kinda an incognito trip for now. We don't want too many people to know where we are exactly. Did he tell you that?" Jeff knew she liked her instastories.

"No, but I was using the big guns, the light is so pretty here. I didn't really use the phone, or take any video. I was caught up, lucky." She smirked and he smiled back.

"So what are we being sneaky about?" She asked when Jeff got distracted handling some logistics.

"Well, Harry's got this Gucci thing."

Helene made a face, then what was she here for? Gucci would have contracted their own photog.

"You're here because Harry requested you for behind the scenes stuff, in case he wants to use it for his next, who knows, he seems to have an idea." Jeff was good at mind reading, face reading.

Part of Helene hoped the idea was to fuck her in a new place, but it would be weird to be paid for it. Not so weird she wouldn't do it, but strange.

"I'm gonna go to my room, what's the plan for dinner?"

"Harry mentioned he wanted to sleep," they both chuckled, or course. "so I may go out, may just do room service."

"K, if you want company?" She said while she headed to the stairs.

"I'll give you a shout."

Her room was lovely, and she ran a bath to ease all the muscles from climbing the hilly streets. Once she was out, she stepped onto her balcony in her robe, she loved a good hotel robe and caught sight of curly hair and wind of garlic from the next one over. She and Harry shared a wall. He was leaning out over the balcony watching the sun go down and Helene pulled her phone from her pocket and took a picture.

By the second one, his neck had lolled around and he was looking into her lens. He wasn't smiling, not even a smirk, his lips gaped just a bit and a slick of wetness caught the light.

She caught that on camera too.

When she put the phone down, slid it against her hipbone to find the square pocket of the robe she hadn't tied tightly, she kept her eyes on him. His dimples grew then as he smiled at her and she was sorry she had put the phone away.

He looked dreamy in the Umbrian light.

"Hiya Helene, have a nice bath?" He smirked then, let his hot eyes slide over her chest, if it wasn't already red, she was sure it was now.

"Oui, it's a really big tub, you seen it?"

"Big enough for two?" His cheek heated hers.

"Not sure."

"We could test it? If you wanted..."

"Think we'd make it that far?" Helene moved her shoulders back, felt wind caress a nipple.

He looked down. "No."

"I bought a bottle of wine at this beautiful shop. I could show you tomorrow."

"Or you can come over right now. We can drink it after our bath." He bit his lip. And hers parted.

"I just had a bath."  She reminded him.

"It's a ruse, I want you to come over so I can take off your robe, Helene." His hand ran over his baggy track pants, her eyes followed, they'd lingered on his face, it was enough to wet her thighs. "Bring the wine and yourself, leave the robe if you're brave enough."

If she was brave enough? She was plenty brave. She undid the poor robe and relaxed her shoulders down. She wondered how she looked in the light.

"Don't move." He pulled his phone out and her back arched. He looked at the screen. "Now come."

She almost did.

Helene turned around and grabbed the bottle of wine and her key, carried them in one hand so she could knock.

There was no need. He had the door open and an impressed look on his face. "Ballsy!" he said with a wiggle of his mouth.

She looked at his crotch, "you'd know."

He canted his chin to the side. "Can I say what an absolute pleasure it is to see you, Helene."

Her nipples hardened to diamonds, round cut, from his gaze. Her knees were drunk. "Yeah, boss man, you're a sight for sore eyes."

"Hopefully sore thighs too." And he reached out and caught her hand and pulled her to him. His other hand caught the long hair at the back of her neck and cushioned her press against the door. He tasted like Italy, like basil and decadence and she lifted a naked leg to wrap around his clothed body. He leaned back from her and his chin caught her mouth, she opened her lips over it and he kissed the tip of her nose. It was a sweet moment before he picked her up so fast she was lightheaded.

He eased back on the couch and spread her body over the top of him. With her lips against him, her toes barely passed his knees. The immediate groping grip over her ass and his hands splitting her thighs around his hips had her forgetting how unequally they matched in height. Because the way his bulge swelled to fill the negative space between her thighs was all that was important right now. He rocked her over his hips and she unbuttoned his shirt hastily.

"Don't rip the Gucci!" He cautioned with a twinkle in his eye.

"Alessandro will give you more tomorrow," She thumbed his bottom lip.

He bit it and said, "there are these grey trousers I want."

"Harry, can we take off your trousers instead."

"Oui!" He pushed down his pants, put his fingers in her mouth which she dutifully licked, wet his tip, and spread her open. She slid down with the help of the grip he'd resumed on her cheeks.

"Ugh!" She got out when she got over the tip, raised back up over the snap of it. Tucked her hips to brush her spot inside.

When she tried to do the shallow penetration a third time, Harry shook his head, "uh-uh." and used the hands full of ass he had to push her down to the last inch.

"Fuck!" She clenched at the fullness and had barely adjusted around it when he set her rocking.

"C'mon, Helene. Take it."

Her response was to make him sit up, so she could lean back with a grip on his neck and use his hold to ride him at a gallop. "Like that?"

"Yeah, that's fucking perfect. Too perfect!" He stopped her pace. He grunted and let her bounce over him until he suddenly grabbed her hips to still them. "Hmmm, M'gonna come like that."

"C'mon, Harry, take it," She bit his bottom lip, licked the indent.

"What's gotten into you?"

"All of you, apparently!" God, he was fun in bed.

"Yeah, can you handle more?"

She narrowed eyes at him and he laughed.

Harry unseated her and slid her over his face. The full flat tongue over the ripe redness he'd exited made her pull up. That was a lot of sensation. He'd just pulled her down onto his tipped tongue, seemed to have no qualms with her motion putting his mouth at back door level. The wiggle of his tongue and the slide over her perineum and up under her hood made her shiver. "Like that!" She begged and he gave her a couple more head waggles, before splitting his fingers to fill both empty places and sucking her to orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck! Yes!" He had the craziest hit rate, she always came with him. No wonder everybody else previously adequate was now lacking.

She was still shaking when he slid her over his weeping erection, and she whined when he passed her over it a couple times, responded by gripping his hip, then got hold of his cock to angle it up, so he couldn't graze her sensitive clit again. She needed to get him inside again, that she could take.

He laughed at her move.

"Fuck you!"

"Be my guest, love." He challenged, and she leaned her body back, grabbed his knees and didn't stop when he needed her to. Just fucked him and her to completion at a rough deep rock. She'd have laid back over his legs when her arms went out had he not caught her.

The bath was big enough for two.

And the wine was so good he wanted her to show him where she bought it after the shoot the next day. "I want more of that when I don't need to worry how I'll photograph for it!"

She'd agreed to see him wine drunk and silly.

And the next day, after seeing his softer side, arms full of baby animals and her eyes full of hearts, Harry got the grey trousers and they took them for a walk around Perugia.

He did look lovely in the light, and she knew he'd noticed that she hadn't worn panties just by the look he cast down her lens. Her thighs'd be wet from it alone, let alone the hand full of rings she'd felt the clink of on her ass yesterday afternoon, but the smirks and smug look he kept giving her when she took his pictures were making her ready to find an alley, bench, streetcorner, side walk cafe table, wherever. He looked as ready too.

Her suspicion was confirmed when after a stiff breeze as she was walking in front of him in her sundress, she'd heard him groan. He'd caught up to her, his hand coasting over her ass cheeks beneath the fluttering hem.

She'd copied his signature smirk. And he'd gaped.

The next hour was a game of grab ass she loved. When they were anywhere near cover, his hand was up her dress, and she was skating away out of reach.

"Hands to yourself, boss." She'd tsked.

"Nope, don't wanna." He'd pinched her cheek then, the right low one.

Helene turned her back and brush her back against his front, but took off before he could get his hands on her.

Every time he got close, she let him touch, or she'd get close and cope her own feel, leave herself open to his hands, beringed fingers.

He got one between her legs in the back on the wine shop and she stepped on his vans to stop him. Bit her lip to keep from moaning.

Harry had them open the bottle and they gave him glasses, because he'd shipped 10 bottle, their entire stock to the azoff's and Winston's and his mum.

He'd asked where a good private place to enjoy it and a view was too.

He was boiling when they found the isolated picnic table. But he'd sat down so she could get his magnetism on film.

Taking the picture had her rolling and popping too.

The wood table top was low, but Harry hardly complained when he had to stay in a squat to get the right angle. All that exercise had to have another benefit.

She was the happy recipient.

She'd remember Umbria for more than just the light.

She'd be taking splinters home with her.