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steveinscarlet · 6 months ago

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Another vintage Kerrang article for your delectation. This one is loooong. Text below the cut...

THEY'RE ALL concerned and they all want answers. Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee, hauling ass down Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, in a sparkling silver Corvette, certainly does. So does Blackfoot mainspring Ricky Medlocke, a recent unexpected apparition within the Marquee's glistening vaults. So does just about everyone I've met in the course of recent field-trips. They're all wearing that 'there but for the grace of God' look and they all want to know. So do I...

"Every time you speak to Rick on the phone you come away with a big grin on your face because he's in such good spirits. He's handling it better than I thought he would. He's matured 10 years overnight. He's totally accepted the fact that he's only got one arm and he's being very realistic about coming back into Def Leppard. He's mad to go for it, though, and we're mad to let him try."

That drummer Rick Allen will try, however, isn't in doubt. He's adamant about it and Leppard vocalist Joe Elliott is equally adamant that the band will give him their unrestrained support. As they've said all along, the decision is totally his "We aren't trying to show off or get sympathy," spells out Joe, "it's just the way we are. Def Leppard is simply five lads - we could have been a football team, we could have been international bank robbers. Rick's a mate, and just because he's had an accident doesn't mean he can't still be in the band. If he physically can't do it then obviously there's going to be problems, but with the technology available today I don't see why he can't play snare drum with his left foot, say. And if he can do that, and maybe have tom tom fills already recorded on a trigger, then the kit would look exactly the same. "Bill Ludwig, who builds Rick's kits, actually got in touch with him as soon as it happened, and it seems that there's a lot of one-arm drummers, guys who came back from Vietnam, y'know. The thing is, they tend to play Holiday Inns and places that like that; it's a different approach to drumming. Rick has a very John Bonhamish style - I mean, the quy doesn't need monitors, he's ridiculously loud! - and he'd never be able to do with one hand what he did with two for an hour and three quarters. It would kill him! So he's gonna need the technology. It's just down to whether he can accept the fact that there are gonna be people in the crowd trying to peer through the cymbals to see a plastic arm. He'll have to wear a shirt now, whereas before he'd always go bare-topped..."

THE DETAILS of the car crash that removed 21- year-old Rick (temporarily at least) from the Leppard ranks have been pretty well documented, grabbing column inches in the Nationals and beyond. The bare facts seem plain enough: at 12.50pm on New Year's Eve, while driving his Corvette along the A57 from Sheffield to his parents home in Dronfield (Derbyshire), Rick was involved in an incident which sent his car spinning out of control, turning over several times, injuring his female passenger and removing his left arm in the process. He remembers what happened vividly, and really can count himself fortunate to be alive. When the debris from the accident was examined it was found that the top half of the steering wheel had been bent back, Rick's particular power clearly preventing the steering column and dashboard from crushing against his chest. But why did it happen?

Picking through the events with Elliott it soon becomes obvious that the whole story is a little more complex than yer typical life-in-the-fast-lane pile up. Think about it...

When you're young and successful, with a streamlined US car and a female companion to match, it can sometimes sting the nasal membrane of the folks you've abandoned to a dole queue existence in your humdrum hometown rut. People have been known to glow green with jealousy, and on New Year's Eve people have been known to take a drink. Sometimes even a life...

"Yeah," says Joe quietly. "There was another car involved in the accident."

Mucking Rick around, you mean?

"That's right. But the people have denied it and there's nothing we can do. The coppers have interviewed them but it's no good I'd love to go round and kill 'em!"

Joe takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues... "The arm was placed in a bucket of ice gathered from all the houses nearby and Rick was in hospital (the Royal Hallamshire) within 19 minutes, which is unbelievable. He underwent an 11-hour operation; his arm was back on by ten to one the following morning, but infection set in and after three days they had to take it off.

"His nerves are still alive, though. They've got them wrapped up like spaghetti, and it's possible to have them connected up in a way that can give movement to a prosthetic arm. So the Steve Austin 'Six Million Dollar Man' thing is not beyond the realms of possibility one day. Rick still feels his arm because of the nerves."

When did you hear what had happened?

"I heard at about ten to four the same afternoon and I couldn't believe it. I cried like a baby for about three hours - my face was hurting. Peter (Mensch, manager) rang and said, 'Rick's had an accident, his arm's off, but they've sown it back on'. I've heard of that working before but unfortunately it was torn off, not cut off, so everything snapped and stretched in different places, which made it more difficult."

How soon after the accident did you visit Rick in hospital?

"I saw him two days after it happened... it was the worst experience I've ever had... but he was walking a week earlier than expected and telling the nurses to f**k off after three days because he was fed up having his bandages changed. He sounds in fine form now and wants to get back; drumming's all he's ever done, and he's done it very well."

"It's just up to him if he can stand the strain. I mean, he's going to go through some crap. He's not had it yet, but he's gonna suffer from depression; bad depression. He's being very realistic about it, though. He said to me, 'When it comes, it comes.' He wants to come out here to Holland but he knows he can't."

Presumably he won't be ready to play a part on the forthcoming tour?

"No, and he knows that. Somebody will guest with us until we know the result of Rick's convalescence." Would you consider using two drummers on any subsequent tours?

"Possibly, yeah, and Rick could do specific bits. We've definitely thought about that, but he's got a lot to learn first. I mean, there's certain things that are now a fact of life. If Rick wants to wear baseball boots, for example, he's gonna have to wear Velcro ones. And he's probably gonna need press-stud trousers. He's got to learn to bath himself even..."

"The thing is, at the moment his right arm doesn't work. The ball is smashed so they've had to pin it. He's got a six inch pin as big as a poker in there. Imagine if your elbow was sown to your hip; well that's all the movement he's got. I guess he's a bit of a mess, though mentally he's the best he's ever been."

What would happen if Rick returned to the band yet clearly wasn't cutting it? Would you have to tell him? "No, because he'd know himself. He's said that to me on the phone. He's being realistic- if he can't do it he can't, but he's definitely gonna try. There'll come a time when Rick will say, I'm ready, and we'll get together in a rehearsal room for a month and see what he does. He'll either turn round and go

'Yes!' and we'll go 'Yes!', or else he'll say 'Sorry, I'm not coping with it.'

"The important thing is that he tries, otherwise he'll never know, and that would be awful. I know he'd rather fail than not try at all. Besides, it's no big secret that we use drum machines on the records so, whatever happens, he could still be involved on that side. We would just take a session drummer out on the road."

"At the moment, we're trying not to get too depressed about the whole situation, but we were mega-depressed at first. I was in a real state, like a zombie for five hours, and for quite a time after I just didn't want to get into a car. I know it's daft, but it's true

A BONHAM of the biscuit tins, a Titan of the tupperware, since the age of 11 Rick Allen has thought of little outside of drums and drumming. At the moment he's at home, probably watching Cheech & Chong videos on the new system bought for him by Phonogram Records. But chances are that his thoughts are elsewhere, no doubt wafting with the music around the booths and corridors of Wisseloord Studios near Amsterdam, Holland, where Leppard are recording their fourth, as yet untitled, LP. As always, he's with his colleagues 110 per cent (for now it can be in spirit only), a continued commitment that should spur him on through the tough weeks and numerous hospital visits ahead.

Prior to the accident, he'd laid the groundwork for eight backing tracks, and the remaining two songs on the album were always destined to feature a less human touch, the band specifically wanting a more clinical punch, so there's no problem on that front. As for his work on backing vocals, well, Elliott can easily deputise in that department, leaving Rick free to concentrate on the speediest recovery possible and, as Elliott puts it, "Learn to live again. He's having all these drums built and a special car designed, all sorts of stuff..."

All things considered, '84 certainly wasn't an easy year for Def Leppard, a rude awakening for an almost unbroken streak of good fortune. First longstanding associate 'Mutt' Lange proved unable to produce the new LP, likewise his replacement Jim Steinman (though for different reasons - read on!), and then came The Accident, which instantly eclipsed all previous hassles, reducing apparent mountains of doom and dismay to easily skirted molehills. But, if anything, adversity has caused the four active members of the Leppard clan to virtually graft respective beaks to the grindstone in a collective consummate effort to make their next album their best.

The band's first LP, 'On Through The Night', produced by (Colonel) Tom Allom, took a mere 18 days to record and remains something of an embarrassment in Elliott's eyes (someday he'd like to remix it and touch up a few of the vocal parts), while the second, 'High 'N' Dry', with Lange now at the helm, was laid down in three and a half months, including a month's pre-production, bang, bang, bang, 'Mutt' clearly wanting to capture the excitement generated by these 21-year-old 'let's go for its'. But 'Pyromania' now that was a different story, with band and producer (Lange again) making a conscious decision at the outset to pin back the ears of a generation with something of genuine lasting quality; an attempt to update the glories of Queen's 'Sheer Heart Attack' and 'Night At The Opera' LPs...

They went for it in a big way and 10 months later came up trumps, creating a slice of history that many have doubted they'll be able to top; an album that left the whole of the music industry wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and caused bands both big and small to almost instantly re-assess their directions and aims. A (hard) labour of love still selling around a thousand a week, it broke taboos and set fresh standards right down the line.

"Hopefully, it'll be an Heavy Metal 'Sergeant Pepper...'," says Elliott, "who knows, but we've got to do more. It'd be tragic if our best album was our third and we end up doing 17 LPs."

Whatever the next album sounds like, however, Joe's convinced that it's gonna be slated by the press. He's resigned himself to the fact (not having heard the record beyond a few notes ricocheting out of the studio doors, I really can't comment), but, along with bassist Rick Savage and guitarists Steve Clark/Phil Collen, he's ploughing on regardless, helping to create something different to 'Pyromania' in content yet as good, if not better, overall.

"Since 'Pyromania' we're two years on technically," he explains. "The Fairlights are better, the keyboards are better and the microphones are better. And we're two years more experienced, of course. Actually, we keep putting on 'Pyromania' and listening to it back-to-back with what we've done; you have to imagine it without the mix, but it's definitely up there to my ears."

JOE ELLIOTT leans forward in the chair, tucks a fold of his rather battered dressing gown tight against private parts and pours himself another glass of one cal Coke. This for the moment is home, and has been since the middle of August: a simple hotel room in Holland ten minutes drive from the studio complex. Originally, the band were due to play the 'Mick Wall Festival' in Rio, but they eventually decided against it on grounds of not wanting to interrupt recording. So while certain jammy so-and-so's were sunning themselves on the Copacabana sands (maaaan!!), Elliott and co, tax exiles all, were trudging across frozen lakes, wrapped up tight against temperatures of 25° below! Still, there's always next year And if nothing else, in their present position the four are conveniently cut off from all domestic distractions. Through the hotel room window I can see Dirk, Elliott's treasured Renault 12 (and centrespread star of Kerrang! 79), basking quietly in the hazy sunlight, the central motif on an idyllic pastel canvas shaded only by the distant foghorn fuming of an adrenalised Peter Mensch. Somewhere, behind closed doors, he's informing an unfortunate Halfin that a five-piece outfit close to the latter's wallet have been 'stiffing' horribly in the South, and he doesn't mean Torquay! Let's just say he's on form...

Later, on the flight back to London, having persuaded Mensch to fund my purchase of a duty free Sony Walkman in tasteful pink, I tentatively suggest that the forthcoming Leppard biography should be titled 'Me & My Whine'...

"OH, YEAH, DAAAN-TAY!!" he snaps, blood vessels popping like balloons, "AND HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO THINK THAT ONE UP???"

Back to business...

"We've always upheld the theory," theorises Joe as things quieten down, "that we don't want to put out a record every nine months. We'd much rather put out a record every two to three years that's of real good quality

"When we started this album 'Mutt' was involved; we did pre-production with him in Dublin, Ireland, which is why we've put him down again on the songwriting credits. It's an honesty thing with us. He doesn't write anything as such; the six of us just sit round a table with a piece of paper in front of us and guitars turned down really low, then whoever chucks in an idea - be it Rick or 'Sav' or me or 'Mutt' - we play with it."

"Steve, for example, will come up with an idea and 'Mutt' will say, 'Change that round', 'Use this', 'Do it in another key', ' or whatever. It just creases me up to think that there are some people out there who look at us and say, 'Ha! They can't write their own songs', which isn't true at all. And even if it was, I'd much rather be involved with an album that sold six million copies co-written with a producer than one that sold 200,000 copies that wasn't."

Surely helping with the arrangements and so on is part of a producer's job, though "Yeah, right, but it's almost as if it's some kind of crime to let your producer be involved. That's what a producer's there for - to kick you up the arse and bring out the best that you can do. We encourage 'Mutt' to be involved and we repay him by sticking his name on the songwriting credits. Who cares! It's only a bloody song anyway..."

Isn't it true, though, that a lot of producers are really just glorified engineers and can't make the extra step up to that level of involvement?

"Yes, that is true, but 'Mutt's an exception anway because the guy's a musician, he's been an engineer since he left school - he's been doing it for 17 years and he's only in his early thirties now and he's also a brilliant singer and great songwriter, so you've got everything going for you! Whereas an engineer will be able to tell you if something's out of tune, 'Mutt' can go further than that and say, 'It doesn't feel right' or 'Sing it this way, shape your mouth like this, let's alter the phrasing'. "With most engineers, if it's in tune and it's what you want then it's a take, and that's all their job is, because if it's that way round it's normally the band who are producing, the way we are with this album. I noticed in Kerrang! it implied that Nigel Green is now producing – he's not, we are. Nigel's assisting." "Actually, he's worked with us on our last two albums, though not as main engineer. Mike Shipley was always our main engineer. Nigel's as good as Mike, it's just that at the time he was involved in other projects; so when Mike took a holiday or went to the dentist Nigel would come in. We've never worked with him on a long term basis before but we do know him."

What happened with 'Mutt' Lange, though? As I understand it, he originally agreed to produce the album as well as help out on pre-production...

"Yeah. In fact, he was still going to do it last February. We started with pre-production, as you've mentioned, but it soon became obvious that 'Mutt' was in no state to see the whole thing through. The Cars' album ('Heartbeat City') nearly killed him; our last album nearly killed him, and the Foreigner record ('IV') the same. I think he's just reached the stage now where to attain certain standards you're talking about grafting for a long time."

"The way we worked on 'Pyromania', for example, we were doing 20 hour days and the guy was sleeping on the couch in the control room. You just can't do that forever, so for the sake of his health he made a wise decision not to do our album. At the time, we were panicking; we thought, 'Oh, Christ!', cos things had all been planned. It wasn't a case of us being afraid of what the album would sound like if 'Mutt' wasn't there, it was simply the availability of other producers that we were concerned about. With top people like Ted Templeman, Mike Stone or Trevor Horn, you've got to book 'em years in advance, you can't just get in touch two weeks before you want to start..."

"Actually, we did approach Templeman just to see how much he wanted, and I don't think he was too keen to do it; he put in such a ridiculous money offer that no band in the world would have accepted it! But then we really wanted somebody a bit different, anyhow. We were interested in the people I've already mentioned initially because we thought, well, these are the names that we've listened to, Bob Ezrin, y'know. But then we started to think about people like Alex Sadkin, who we found was doing the new Foreigner album ('Agent Provocateur'). Trevor Horn would have worked with us in England, but Chris Thomas (Roxy Music, Procol Harum) turned us down flat - he obviously doesn't like us. We actually tried to get Phil Collins, who was interested but tied up with the latest Clapton LP ('Behind The Sun')."

So you were looking at people outside the world of heavy rock...

"Yeah, we were looking at up and coming producers like Terry Manning, who's engineered for ZZ Top, and Steve Lillywhite, who's yet to do a hard rock album but possibly could do a good one. Some of us were interested in him, some of us weren't. I like the fullness of Simple Minds' 'Sparkle In The Rain' LP, it's brill, but sounds are really no problem for us now, we can get good sounds; the thing we always like to have is musical input, and that's where we thought Steinman would come into his own. I mean, the guy's a good songwriter and he's had a hell of a lot of success with what he does."

He worked on the last Billy Squier album, 'Signs Of Life', with Tony Platt, didn't he?

"Yeah, well, he 'navigated' it is what Squier says. We thought, OK, we'll get the sounds and let him do the producing, but it turned out that Jim wasn't really what any of us thought he would be. In fact, I wonder how he's ever got a production credit on anything - especially with Squier, the kind of ego he's got. I can't understand why he even let Steinman's name appear on his album cos we're not putting it on ours."

What was the problem with Steinman then?

"Ahh... I wouldn't be lying if I said that you could have done it as well. I mean that. The guy just sat there reading 'Country Life' all day and going, 'Yeah, yeah, that sounds good', when it plainly wasn't. He's simply not used to recording the way we record. When we said, 'Listen, this is the way we work, you'd better get used to it', he tried and he couldn't. He just could not hear if something was wrong."

Were your standards too exacting for him, do you think?

"Possibly, yeah. It sounds strange to say that, though, cos to me those standards are normal. Doing 'Pyromania' was like going to college; I've grown up listening to things a certain way. As far as I'm concerned, getting the timing, the tuning and the feel spot on is the usual way to work, but Jim Steinman for all his reputation - could not hear it."

"After a while, we just thought, well, this is silly, we're wasting our time and money and wasting his time, though we weren't too bothered about that cos he wasn't too bothered about the project. I honestly don't think he was doing it for any reason other than credibility in the States. "We'd say, 'Right, we start at 12', and he'd wander in at 3.30. We'd stay till 12 or one in the morning, then he'd go back to his hotel and start writing songs for his own future projects, and he'd be up till nine o'clock doing that. So when he finally got round to us, he'd only had five hours sleep. he wasn't there half the time. I mean, he was there in body but not in mind. We found more and more that we were doing the work, which was fine, we didn't mind doing it, we just thought, why the hell should we be giving this guy so many points and so many dollars to sit there reading 'Country Life'!"

So how much did you manage to accomplish with Steinman?

"We did about eight backing tracks and scrapped them; almost everything has been done again. And even the things that went down were our decision Steinman never overruled us on anything. If he said a certain take was good and we said it was bad, we'd do it again."

Who was actually getting the sounds at this stage?

"Us and Neil Dorfsman, Steinman's engineer. He was good, actually, cos he was doing all the work. Jim was the ears of the partnership, but the ears were plugged up, I think..."

"Y'know, it annoys me intensely when a producer walks into a control room and says, "This carpet has got to go!' Sod the desk, that's not important. An SSL desk, 150,000 quid's worth of equipment, and the carpet's got to go! He even had the carpet changed in his hotel room. The guy was living in a suite while we were happy in rooms with a fridge and a cooker. Obviously, we paid for it all..."

"And the food! He went out to the North of Holland and had a 12 course meal! Which is fine, that's his personality, but when somebody walks into a studio and says the carpet has got to go... if I'd been there I'd have decked him. Seriously. Who gives a flying s**t what the carpet looks like!"

How long did Steinman last, then?

"Oh, we dumped Jim about November, we gave him a fair chance. We thought, well, alright, we're doing the spadework, what he might consider the boring side of the album, let's see what he's like on vocals, maybe that's his strongpoint. He did tell us that he spent something like five weeks trying to get Meat Loaf to sing one line, so we thought, OK, the guy's definitely got stamina."

"But when it came to doing vocals with me, it was exactly the same situation as with the backing tracks - everything was my decision. He'd say, 'Yeah, that's good', and I'd go, 'Jim, it's f**king useless!' I'd run out of breath at the end of a line cos I wasn't quite familiar with what I was singing, and he'd say, 'It's got a bit of feel'. Isn't that pathetic?!"

"I mean, Steve and Phil wanted to get rid of him two weeks after he was here. But I just kept saying, 'Give the guy a chance, blah, blah, blah' made meself look a right arsehole. But it was only fair to let him get to the vocal stage of things."

"Anyway, when Steinman went we all sat down and asked Mensch to sort out which other producers were available. We put down everybody we thought might be good. Mike Shipley couldn't do it cos he was off co-producing the new Loverboy album, so we just suggested Nigel. We were doing a better job than Steinman, so we thought, well, what's the point getting in another producer? We send 'Mutt' the odd tape now and then and he sends it back saying, 'It sounds brilliant to me', which shows that we can do it, so we are."

Has having Phil Collen involved from the start of this album (he became a Leppard member during the recording of 'Pyromania', replacing guitarist Pete Willis) made things different in any way?

"Yeah, it means that the songwriting's changed a little; Phil's input is better than Pete's ever was. Steve will always be the major songwriter, I think, but he's really encouraged Phil a lot. He doesn't just sit down and say, 'I want to write all the songs', stuff like that. In fact, everything that Steve's written, he's written with Phil in the same room... Phil's probably involved in eight of the 10 songs on the album."

And what about 'Sav'? He writes too, doesn't he?

"Yeah, but 'Sav's weird; I can't get to grips with him sometimes. More than anyone else in this band he likes your Journeys and your Bryan Adams, occasionally even the odd Duran Duran song, yet he was the one who came up with 'Stagefright' and 'No No No'. And on this new album he's got a number called 'Ring Of Fire' - not a cover of the famous Johnny Cash song! which is an uptempo, thrash, crash, Metal job. He just never writes like the people he listens to."

Will Steve and Phil be sharing the guitar breaks on the new LP?

"Oh yeah, 50/50, right down the middle. Actually, they argue about who's gonna do 'em; not in the sense of, 'I wanna do this', but Phil's telling Steve that he should do a certain solo and Steve's saying, 'No you do it, it's more up your street'. I remember hearing stories about KK (Downing) and Glenn (Tipton) from Priest not talking to each other for four months at a time, but it's the other way round with Steve and Phil. The only thing they argue about is who's gonna buy the drinks!"

What about you, though? You play a bit of guitar...

"Badly!"

...have you written anything on the new record?

"Er... I did come up with some stuff but I don't think it got used. I wrote little bits on the last album, but my main worry is obviously melodies, lyrics and vocals."

"Sometimes, though, we'll have a vocal line and work the backing around that. We've got this one new song, 'Armageddon It', which is Piltdown, just two chords all the way through; it's based around a tongue-in-cheek vocal thing."

Is it a 'Rock Of Ages' type number?

"I suppose it is a bit, yeah. The vocals come out from all over the place once it gets going. It's just a totally stupid lyric... like 'Rock Of Ages', just a piss-take of ourselves, though not mocking the fans in any way."

"And then there's 'Ring Of Fire', which I've already mentioned. It's actually about an Indian meal, the day after, but nobody would ever know that... well, they will now!"

When you're writing lyrics, do you ever think about how the song will work live?

"Not really, no. Obviously, a number like 'Rock Till You Drop' is a stage song, and the same with 'Stagefright', but I've never consciously sat down and thought, well, I'd better come up with two songs about 'Rock This Place To The Ground', or whatever, and one meaningful one about Vietnam, and another about a vigilante in New York. They just turn out that way. You do it in moods. I was probably watching something about Vietnam on TV and 'Die Hard The Hunter' (from the 'Pyromania' LP) came out, and I'd probably been to see 'Deathwish' when I wrote 'Billy's Got A Gun' (also on 'Pyromania'). I can't remember, I just do it."

"I actually wrote 'Photograph' (ditto) while I was sitting on the bog. I was stuck for a chorus and I had a picture of Marilyn Monroe staring me in the face... Bob's your uncle!"

When you made the decision to go for something extra with the 'Pyromania' album, were you confident that you could pull it off?

"We were confident, yeah, very confident, because 'Mutt' was producing. We just had so much faith in the guy and in return he had total confidence in what we were doing. We didn't see how we could go wrong, though Mensch was tearing his hair out when we were nearly a million pounds in debt and the record company were drumming their fingers waiting. I think we had to sell 1.2 million copies of 'Pyromania' to break even, we were in a real big mess..."

"I mean, I nearly had a nervous breakdown, I just couldn't handle it. I was going through so much crap towards the end - do it again, do it again... I got what a lot of singers get, 'Lastitis', which comes from the pressure of finishing. We went through a lot of hell on that record..."

Including, of course, the slightly wobbly exit of young Mr Willis...

"Yeah, but in all honesty I think that did us more good than anything. The thing is, you sometimes take situations for granted and then all of a sudden something like that happens and it's like, wow, it's different, there's only four of us, he's gone, really gone. I mean, Phil joined the day after, but then he almost joined back in '81."

"I tried to get him cos we were having trouble with Willis in America. I rang Phil up and said, 'Can you learn 16 songs in two days?' He said, 'I'll try', but that was just totally out of desperation, there's no way he could have done it. However, when Pete started to act in the studio like he did on tour, which was making Keith Moon look like a bloody vicar, it was time for him to go."

Why doesn't he get some help?

"Well, I think he's beyond help, to tell the truth. He doesn't even realise he needs it, he doesn't accept he's got a problem, though the guy's been in hospital twice as a result of drink and drugs. He had a collapsed liver or something, and epileptic fits, God knows what."

That hasn't happened to the rest of you, though, and you're all the same age, you've all worked your way up together...

"No, it's just him. Pete's always had something to prove, y'see, probably because he's a midget. The guy thought he was 10 feet tall when he was pissed and he'd be taking on people as big as you it didn't work. He was like a gigantic ball and chain around our ankles..."

THE LATEST whisper on Willis is that he's currently swanning around the environs of Sheffield, complete with Rolls Royce and minder, recounting tales of some hush-hush supergroup he might be throwing in his frets with. Elliott finds it hard to take the whole thing seriously, and I think it's fair to say that the recording of album number four is proceeding all the smoother for the wee man's absence.

Already, a number of lead vocals are complete, and the band (employing two studios simultaneously) are steadily piecing together their ten new songs, ready to convince a waiting world that Life After 'Pyromania' does exist.

So what's on the boil? Well, in no particular order, there's 'Armageddon It' and 'Ring Of Fire', already mentioned, 'Excitable', 'Gods Of War', 'Fractured Love', 'Don't Shoot The Shotgun' (Stonesy, I'm assured), 'Animal', 'Love Bites' (a ballad), 'Run Riot' and the enticingly handled 'Women', all proudly produced by the Leppard members themselves, who, without the invaluable 'Mutt' Marten to administer the prods, are taking great and serious pleasure in booting each other up the bum! "Actually, I never envisaged us producing ourselves," admits Joe, "I thought it might be the one thing that would lead to us falling out. It's always been dead important to us that Leppard is a friends situation; we want to keep the element of why we started. Five mates who can still go into the same bar and look each other in the face after seven years. Happily, that's the way it's remained, and producing ourselves is working really well..."

The new album, which now looks set to be mixed by Lange in the UK, an added bonus, should be available by August, after which the band plan to tear up the tarmac on a world tour of, well... y'know. The idea, it seems, is to blow away the studio cobwebs with about eight shows in Ireland, some in smaller places, then steer a course for the UK, perhaps for a September stint (the British dates have already been put back four times!) of 20 or so gigs. A headline appearance at Wembley Arena isn't too far off for the boys, according to Queen's Brian May, a staunch Leppard supporter, but this time around I reckon they'll settle for something a little more cosy.

Next tour, though Europe too seems odds on to cop a visit, particularly as 'Pyromania' has now shifted over 100,000 copies in France and is making a late burst for the tape in Scandinavia as well. Business in Germany, however, remains a little slow, and as for Holland... well, now we're talking about a massive 639 units shifted. Still, at least it means the band don't have to worry about being recognised. Def what?!

By December Leppard should be into America, after which it's likely they'll travel to Japan, though probably not Australia, that stage of the tour having lost them around 60 grand last Feb. Indeed, all in all, their schedule will be less arduous than last time, including more days off to recover and recharge. The band should certainly feel healthier as a result, but then with the Rick Allen episode having shocked the Leppard camp into a highly body-conscious state, that's the way things are heading anyway "I don't want to waste away and vegetate," explains Joe. "I'm 25, I'm supposed to be at the peak of my fitness; I'm supposed to be Glenn Hoddle but I wasn't. I'd run a mile and be out of breath. Now I can run a six minute mile, no trouble, and I do half an hour's worth of exercises every day. 'Sav', Phil and myself all go jogging too - we take less for granted now than we did before..."

#the bit about Steve and Phil writing together 🥹#def leppard #magazine scan #my scans

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i-sveikata · 28 days ago

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Hello my fantastic author, how are you?

Today I'm back with a question that came to me while rereading chapter 15 (or 16.. oh my I'm missing out too much XD). The scene, or rather the concept, is when Pete finds out through his grandmother that Vegas has left him, literally, a mountain of money in her bank account. I was thinking back to the scene when Pete was in the car with Vegas at the funeral (whoo the first time Pete actually asked Vegas to give him a blowjob XD - bold Pete) where Pete understands that something is wrong but Vegas doesn't say anything about the money.

I always thought that she did this gesture of love to allow Pete to somehow escape from that world if things went badly. But then reading the following chapters, and as we have seen Vegas exposed under the drugs, I have a question or maybe two:

Vegas could have done, even if unconsciously, this gesture thinking that Pete could have abandoned him to live with his grandmother far from everything and therefore would have lived better without him?

Or Vegas could have done this because he knew there would be a coup and wanted Pete to be able to choose and live?

I am not so convinced that the second option could be true, judging from the recklessness and certainty that Vegas showed during the attack on Pete, being sure that he and his father would have overthrown Korn, but I am curious about your opinion author.

Just for information … I had this thought again last week then puff it disappeared and I continued to think "Damn what was I supposed to ask …." and then luckily it came back to me!!!

Aahahah your VegasPete occupy my mind completely!!!

Thanks as always…and if you want to share some other little Vegas/Pete interactions from the next chapter, who am I to stop you??? Hahaha

Hey there!! Im doing great got a public a holiday Monday so long weekend woohoo I’m thriving!

Oh interesting question!

But I will point out that in the fic Pete and his grandmother have a shared bank account because Pete takes looking after his grandmother very very seriously (and is very high key feeling like he’ll never be able to pay her back for saving him as a child) which is why he’s more hands on then say her actual sons/ Pete’s uncles.

So it wasn’t necessarily a gesture towards Pete’s grandmother. Although Vegas gave him the money fully aware that Pete would probably use it to help his family (and even maybe his friends).

Vegas’ decision was made by three important factors: being injured and forced to confront his own mortality, wanting Pete to be able to protect himself financially so the rest of Vegas’ family couldn’t use that to hold Pete ransom like they ended up doing with Porsche and wanting to be certain Pete is able to look after himself regardless of whether Vegas died or not.

I think because Vegas is afraid of being abandoned, he’s doing everything in his power to emotionally push Pete away first before it hurts too much. Only he keeps affording Pete the kind of agency and power that means Pete could walk away and choose to do so with minimal damage (in Vegas opinion which obvs we all know is wrong lol). But an interesting consequence of that is he’s actually making Pete even more certain of Vegas in some ways then he otherwise would have been if Vegas had tried to hold on too tightly and tried to tie him up, lock him away and control him etc.

Vegas keeps proving that he’d help Pete in spite of his own interests- he’s putting Pete first in a way that Pete hasn’t really experienced all that much. It’s also why Pete’s care of Vegas has intensified in the last few chapters or so: he’s fully aware that Vegas is giving him everything even going as far as to go against his own personal safety. So of course Pete is now watching his back for him, shoring up that side when it’s clear Vegas will give him everything and won’t protect himself. Pete isn’t an unequal lover, that kind of devotion is especially effecting him and that’s why he’s trying to return it in his own ways. By being protective of Vegas and his body, by stealing him away from the main family, by helping him claim back the head of the minor family etc etc.

Vegas was definitely reckless with himself during the coup but not Pete. And I think he’s starting to figure out the kind of person Pete is- he realises Pete would never have been satisfied running away forever. Or giving up the life for good. Pete’s not like Kinn and Porsche he actually chose this for himself in a lot of similar ways that Vegas chose to embrace his own criminal inheritance.

Tbh despite his own internal misgivings about himself, Vegas loves in a way that’s almost antagonistic to how he perceives himself. Vegas sees himself as a monster, a weapon something that can only inflict pain and suffering. But it’s interesting to see how that comes across in his relationships. Those he loves he protects, Vegas’ love is to shield others from suffering. So they don’t experience the kind of pain that he has experienced in his life. Which is why he stood between his father and his brother and it’s why he gave Pete all that money.

He’s mostly a weapon but he’s also a shield, whereas Pete is mostly a shield but also a weapon.

Like Pete has protected the family of course, but he’s inflicted suffering on others at their behest also. He hasn’t solely been a noble shield. There are shades of grey in the things he’s done to survive just as there are in Vegas.

It’s funny too because I don’t think either of them have clicked with how often they’re switching between that dynamic as they’re moving through the world. If one is being the weapon the other is generally being a shield- those bastards are so freaking compatible it makes me want to chew at the walls hahahha.

I would love to share a snippet but alas I’m at work! I’ll come back and add something in later :) but hope that sort of answers your question!

#fic asks #ill fill the graveyards until i have you

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bodyswapmischief · 2 years ago

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TF Story Exchange: Can a Friendship Survive Swapmas?

@thegreatstoryteller I feel extremely greatful to have gotten a chance to write a story for you, this year. I have always loved your work. I wish you the best this holiday season and a great upcoming year. And, I hope I pleased you with this story!

Ned stared at the screen, as minutes passed by. His mind filled with worry. The same worry that always plagued his life. He couldn't help it; it was part of his DNA. Every choice in his life was a never ending debate of possibilities. Even this morning, he spent 30 minutes deciding whether or not he should eat a bowl of cereal. The same breakfast he had for the past 10 years. So, why wouldn't this decision be harder to make? The one that's currently staring right back at him through the screen.

A sense of pride hit was beaming through him. He was able to find it. It took months but he was able to find it. He was able to find a way to give his friend the best Christmas present in the world. A chance to finally be happy. A chance to give his friend a new life ... one that Ned really thought his friend deserved. He searched the dark web and now he was one click away from buying a body transformation serum. A serum that gives the drinker the body of their dreams. A few more moments pass and he weighed the outcomes. And, he clicks to confirm the payment. The page crashed. And, he searched for it again and again. But, nothing showed up. His stomach knotted up, as 10,000 dollars would leave his bank account. And, a part of him instantly became scared that he just got scammed.

Meanwhile, Theodore came walking through the front door of the apartment. His heart was broken once again, as he sulked through the apartment. The events of the night replayed in his head over and over again. Theodore knew that a night like tonight would be another reason, of many, to support the fact that his life sucked. He saw Ned on the computer. Ned's worry died as he saw the hurt in his friend's eyes.

"Hey, how did it go." Ned said with a huge amount of concern. But, Theodore just walked past him and straight into his room. Ned sat in the tense silence again debating if he should go talk to his friend or not. Ned cursed at himself for even having to think about this. Of course the right answer was to go comfort his friend.

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They were more than friends. They were best friends. Ever since grade school they were inseparable. While the other kids played house or sports, the two of them would play make believe. They'd pretend to live in their fantasy world. Where the two of them could be wizards that had magical powers, space agents looking for alien life, or one of the other many possibilities. Of course it wasn't all fun and games. They were constantly picked on a lot for being weak, scrawny, and dorky looking.

And, things just kept getting worse. Once middle school came, it was constantly filled with bullies that would harass them at any given moment. They spent many days eating lunch in their science teachers class room. They spent a lot of time running home after school. Although, they both hated it ... Theodore took it harder.

"I hate myself, Ned. Why are we like this? Why do we play nerdy video games, see baby shows .... Why are we nerds? Why aren't we stronger? Why can't we just be like the other boys..." Theodore would complain.

"Theodore, we don't need to be like them. You're cool like this. You're smart and they don't get that. One day they are gonna be working for us." Ned laughed to cheer up his friend.

But, for Theodore ... Those words didn't make things better. And, as they got to high-school, things would get a lot more complicated. The same guys that would bully them, in elementary and middle school, now became jocks. Their body's transforming due to the effects of puberty and working out. But, both Ned and Theodore stayed their scrawny nerdy selves. The bullying continued and the resentment Theodore had towards himself grew. But, all Ned needed was their friendship in order to survive this period of his life.

"I don't get it Ned, guys like them ... they don't deserve the bodies they have. They're villains. We are good guys. If we had bodies like that ... we'd be heroes." Theodore would constantly say. And, Ned would just listen. He would realize he loved Theodore. He would begin to write in his journal ... about their lives together. At the same time, Theodore was realizing there was more than just jealousy towards the "cool" guys. Watching them in the locker rooms and having their bodies pressed against him, was turning him on. He also was realizing he was gay.

Both of these young men tried to keep it a secret. But, it wouldn't stay so. Ned journal would get taken and copies of the pages would flood the halls of the school. As a result, the two boys would be outed and even more made to be outcast. They also had to work on maintaining their friendship. Theodore was furious at Ned. And, Ned felt a tremendous level of guilt. But, at the end of the day ... all they had were each other. Theodore made it clear that Ned wasn't his type. And, Ned needed to learn to be okay with that. But, despite all the mess, their friendship only grew stronger. And of course being to gay young man ... they still played around together.

Now, they were both roommates sharing an apartment as they tackled college. And, Ned finally saw hope. They had made it through the rough years. The bullying had stopped. They've found people and places that accept the gay nerds they were. So what if they don't get invited to traditional parties? They are a step closer to being the version of themselves Ned always knew they'd be one day.

But, Theodore did not see it that way. He continued to try and be something he wasn't. He'd go to the gym for short sprints of time ... to get that jock body. He'd try and get invited to frat parties. He still held on to the dream that he could change who he was. No matter what his genes or mind said, Theodore had a strong feeling that his life shouldn't be like this. He should be cool; he was born in the wrong body.

Seeing his friend grow more and more depressed as the years went on, Ned knew he had to do something. And, that's what led him down his months-long journey to find the transformation serum. And, all of this was the reason he knew he had to walk into that room and comfort his friend.

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"Hey, so ... um ... what happened?" Ned asked as he poked his head in to comfort his friend.

"I don't want to talk about it." Theodore said as his face laid into his bed.

"Come on ... it can't be that bad. So, he said no? There are other guys out there." Ned tried to reassure his friend.

"No, man ... It's bad. I really thought James was different." Theodore sighed.

"Why, what did he do?" Asked Ned.

"He was just like the rest. Maybe worst. I thought this whole time ... he might actually like me. I know I'm scrawny and weak. But, I thought he'd like a twink like me. But, these gym 'bros' always suck. At least the others were straight up. They'd make a proposition like me doing homework for a chance to touch them. But, James has been tricking me this whole time. Only he didn't have the guts to tell me upfront. Another dumbass jock that wanted his homework done. Worst is that he's straight. He couldn't stop laughing at me for thinking ... I thought he actually liked me." Theodore vented.

"Theodore ... that sucks. But, come on man ... we can't attract jocks. We are the definition of nerdy guys. There are plenty of guys that would like you. But, they aren't gonna be at the gym full of university jocks." Ned tried to help.

"I don't know Ned ... I just hate my life. I love you for always being there. And, I know what you are saying is true. But, this is just not right. I look at myself and feel like I should be ... no ... I need to be something else ... someone else." Theodore sighed.

Ned debated telling Theodore about the serum. He knew he should wait until it actually arrived. "Well it's no use just sitting and crying about it. Come on ... we have dungeons and dragons today. Let's get going ... slaying a dragon will get you in a better mood." Ned smiled. And, Theodore put on a weak smile.

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The days passed as Christmas got closer. And, Ned walked up to the apartment to see a small package sitting at the front door. His heart raced as he picked it up and brought it inside. He opened it up and saw a clear vial glowing with dimmed blue light. The colors were almost hypnotizing and inviting. He slowly picked up the vial and heard a voice telling him to drink it. He instantly knew what this was and was relieved that the 10,000 dollars was scammed out of him.

The sound of the door behind him snapped him back to reality. He turned to see Theodore, still sad with the constant reminder that he would never be happy in his own body. Ned shook his head and remembered who the gift was for, his friend. So, he hid the vial in his hand and walked to Theodore's bedroom door. His heart continued to race, as he took one last gulp and walked through it.

"Theodore ... I have to tell you something." Ned said as his heart raced through his chest.

"Not now, Ned. I don't want to talk." Theodore laid on his bed, as depressed thoughts raced through his head.

Ned raised his voice, not in anger, but in a frustrated excitement. "Theodore! It's important! Please..."

Theodore was shocked to hear his friend. Ned would hardly raise his voice like that Theodore sighed to look over at his friend. "What ... what do you want?"

Ned's heart continued to race and his face was red for giving the small outburst. "Um ... well ... um ... I was gonna wait for Christmas but, seeing you depressed like this ... I don't think I should wait." Ned raised the vial.

Theodore looked at the vial with the same hypnotized look that Ned had only moments ago. He sat up on his bed and slowly moved towards his friend. His hand carefully reached out and he took it from Ned's hand. "What is this..." Theodore said in a trance-like state.

"I know this is gonna sound crazy but ... I promise you this is real. It's ... um ... a potion ... to give you the body of your dreams." Ned's gulped hoping his friend wouldn't think he was crazy. But, Theodore knew it had to be true, as the voices in the vial began to talk to him. "Drink it. Drink it and have your dreams come true." The voices hissed. And, without saying a word Theodore opened the vial and drank it.

Ned looked in shock, as Theodore did it without hesitation. "How do you feel?" He gasped. Theodore just looked blankly. "I don't know ... I don't feel anything." He began to say as he felt a burning sensation growing in his stomach.

Theodore's eyes began to glow in the same dimmed blue light from the vial. Ned looked on in horror, as he saw the veins throughout Theodore's body begin to glow in a similar blue light. And then, Theodore fell onto the floor. He yelled out in pain, as the burning sensation grew and spread throughout his body. "Oh my God, oh my God ..." Ned cried out not knowing what to do. Theodore's body fell flat, as his body began to seize. His body moved as if things were crawling inside of him. His muscles were flexing and relaxing. His bones were breaking and reforming. He screamed for it to stop and fell into unconsciousness.

Ned looked in horror. The thought that he killed his friend began to fill his mind. He rushed down to flip Theodore on his back. He placed his hand on Theodore's chest and felt his heart racing incredibly fast ... as if it was going to explode. His body was still seizing and his skin moving. The sounds of bones breaking could still be heard. But, now there was shifting.

The look of shock began to fade, as Ned saw his friend transforming right in front of his eyes. The heat of the transformation began to tan Theodore's pasty skin. With each flex, Theodore's body inflated like a muscular balloon. His arms and legs flexed with power. His abs became chiseled from the blank canvass of his stomach. His pecs ballooned up. His shoulders become broad and strong. His face lost the nerdy qualities, as it became more chiseled and angular. His hairless body looked good stretched by the new muscle. And, his face was graced with a new beard that added to his new manly charm. He wasn't the same 5'6 lanky freshman nerd. Now he could pass as any of the other 6'4 alpha jocky seniors.

As the transformations ended, the glow in Theodore's body began to fade. But, he still remained unconscious. Ned looked in awe and blushed as he could see his friend's new body, especially since Theodore's clothes have been ripped from the growth of the transformation. An equally impressive cock hung from his exposed pelvis. Ned pushed on his muscular chest. "Hey ... um ... Theodore ... are you okay."

Ned began to awake to the voice of his friend. And, the weak force of being pushed on the chest. He felt his pecs flex as a response to being touched. But, his mind was still recovering from passing out and a fog of confusion clouded his mind. "Fuck! What happened?" He groaned in a deep new baritone. He jumped into a sitting position as he held his new muscular throat. "What's wrong with my voice?" He looked over at Ned. Ned looked back and just smiled "It worked!"

Theodore looked down at his body. He gasped. He began to rub his hands along the curves of his muscles. His cock began to harden, as he took in his new body. He was like a Greek statue that was carved by the gods themselves. He jumped up and ran to the mirror. His cock slapped against his thighs as he did. He felt his heart glow with pure happiness; he could cry. His face was perfect. He looked like the version of himself that he always wished for. This was his dream body.

Ned walked into the restroom after him, now towered by his friend. And, Theodore just turned around to hug him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you." He cheered as he lifted Ned up. "I don't know how I'll ever pay you back."

"Maybe you can let me play with that cock." Ned laughed as a joke like they'd normally do. Even though there wasn't a chance for a relationship ... They both were young gay men. And, getting dates was hard so it wasn't strange for them to help each other out. But, Theodore felt a pit of disgust in his stomach. "Um ... sure man ... I guess ... it's the least I can do." Theodore said.

Ned smiled as he led Theodore back to the couch. Ned began to rub Theodore's body. He moaned, "Fuck I can't believe I'm actually rubbing the body of a jock."

Theodore felt weirded out. "Um ... yeah ... it feels good." He nervously laughed. His muscles flexed in discomfort, as Ned moved towards his cock. With Ned's hand wrapped around the cock. Theodore's cock began to get limp. There was absolutely no pleasure in having Ned worship him. "What's wrong ... you know I give the best hand jobs." Ned joked just thinking his friend must be tired. "You're probably exhausted from the transformation."

Theodore peps up as he finds a reason to end this. "Yeah, you're right ... I'm feeling really drained and my body is still kinda sore ... I should probably go to sleep." He lies and does a fake yawn. He stood up and walked into his room.

Ned looked disappointed but understood. "Maybe ... I can worship you later. " He weakly smiled. But, Theodore didn't respond. Ned just sighed but was glad his friend was finally happy. He turned on some TV but, moments later he heard deep manly grunting coming from Theodore's room. Part of him felt confused and the other part felt hurt.

Theodore in his room laid in his bed. His mind flooded with images of his new body. He closed his eyes and got hard feeling his new strength. His hand wrapped around his thick long cock. New images began to fill his head. For the first time, the thought of naked women graced his mind. He imagined touching their curvy bodies and sucking on thier breast. He'd imagined shoving his massive cock into their pussies and stretch them out. He pumped faster and faster. His bed creaked under his muscular weight. He couldn't help but groan in pleasure. His cock erupted in a burst of cum. Laying down, he catches his breath. He rubs the cum onto his thighs.

Energy rushed through his body. And, he knew what he needed. He got his gym clothes that were now tight on him and perfect for showing off his body. He rushed out of his room and headed to the gym. Ned tried to call out as he left the door but Theodore was too fast.

Theodore went to the gym and it was the first time he walked in there with confidence. He walked up to different machines and tested the amount of weight he could do with each. Other gym bros looked at him and gave him nods to show they were impressed. He smiled as he nodded back. A few of the frat guys walked up to him. They were impressed and asked for tips to get a body like his. He was shocked as he began to talk about knowledge of working out that he never had. He even joined in when they talked about hot girls, working out at the gym, and other topics he used to have little to no interest in. Finally he felt like one of the guys.

As the night came to an end, a group frat guys, that were keeping an eye on him, invited him out for drinks. He was beyond happy, as he agreed to hang out with them. He walked into the bar and people just came up to him; girls that thought he was hot and guys that were just impressed by him. The frat guys looked at him like he could potentially be a new recruit. And, this new life of meeting and hanging out with people would continue into the following weeks.

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Both men would realize that reality started shifting. The old Theodore never existed. He was always this hunky popular jock. Him being roommates with Ned was a glitch in the computers system. Him hanging out with his nerdy friends was due to bets he lost, with Ned. The only person that remembered the truth were Ned and Theodore.

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Theodore was getting ready to head out to party, as Ned walked into the room. "Where are you going ... it's D&D night. We still have to get the rest of the gang to remember you." Ned said with a worried tone.

"Ned! They don't remember me. They think I just lost bets to you and was forced to play. We can try to get them to remember later. But, I just want to go and party. I want to hit on girls. Those frat guys wanted to talk to me again ... I can't waste this body and not do the things I've always wanted to do."

"What girls? You're gay?" Ned said shocked.

"I'm not any more ... i don't really get it. But, i think my dream body is straight. I always thought it would be easier to live as a straight man ... so I guess thr vial even took that into consideration." Theodore explained.

"You know what? Fine! Just go ... be magically straight and have fun." Ned said annoyed. "But, you are still going with me to get presents for the gang tomorrow right ..."

"Yeah, sure ... just get out of my room" Theodore brushed him off.

Ned went off to play D&D. The thought of losing his friend filled his mind. All the missed lunch dates, not sitting together in class, and Theodore hardly being home ... made Ned regret what he did. He should have never gotten that transformation serum.

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The next day they both went to the mall together. Ned was excited to finally spend time with his friend. But, the whole day, Theodore was distracted on his phone, texting girls and getting details on parties happening tonight. Ned even caught Theodore stealing glances at his reflection. Everytime Ned would ask about a gift, Theodore would respond with "Sure whatever. And, as the time passed, Ned just got more and more annoyed. "Let's just go." He said after having enough.

"Good, I really couldn't stand this nerdy shit." Theodore yawned and stretched, as he was ready to go.

Ned waited until they got to the parking lot. "Your an ass ... you know that" He yelled.

"Bro, what the fuck is your problem. And for the last time ... I go by Theo now!" Theo yelled back.

"Really! BRO? Am I your Bro? Cause you could have fooled me. If you didn't want to come with me and do this nerdy shit! You could have just said so." Ned shouted back.

Theodore realizes what he said. But, it was true ... he didn't care about the things he used to he. He wondered if he even cared about them in the first place. Or was it just a product of looking nerdy and trying to fit in with the people he looked like. All he knew was that he finally be the man he always wanted to be. "Bro, it's nothing like that ... we are just different now. I mean ... it was bound to happen. Look at you and then look at me. We dont exactly fit in each others lives anymore. " Theo explained, poorly.

"What the hell does that mean? You don't want to be my friend anymore ... are you too cool now? Fuck ... THEO ... I guess fine ... you can have your wish. I'll leave you alone. Well just live two separate lives. And, then next year when you graduate ... I'll never see you again. Is that what you want?"

Theo felt bad. He still had these memories with Ned. But, he knew ... no matter how much it sucked ... they had nothing in common anymore. Maybe it was best for them to split ways. "It's okay Ned, I know your angry. I can never repay you for this life you gave me. But, it's true ... I don't think I can be your friend anymore. I was gonna tell you. I got accepted into the frat... I was going to be moving out anyways. You know, being around guys like myself. And, then switching my degree to sports medicine so I can be a trainer. Also, I have this girl I've been seeing. So ... I'll always remember you. But, I don't know were to fit you in my life." He sighed and paused. He didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want to make a scene. But, he knew he wasn't going to change. And, he knew that Ned wasn't going to change. He started again. "And, here take the keys to drive home. I'm going to the bar and I'll Uber back." Theodore sighed ... a bit disheartened that he isn't as sad as he should have been. He's losing his lifelong friend. But, he could see no other path.

Theodore began to walk away. "Fuck you Theo ... Theodore ... whoever the fuck you are." Ned said, as he walked to the car.

Theodore walked back to the edge of the mall and saw his new frat bros. "Yo bro, what the fuck was that about?" One of them ask.

"Oh, it's just some nerd ... you know how they can be ..." He weakly laughed.

"Hey, isn't he that fag ...yeah ... he's that loser. He's always checking you out. And, stalking you. We should teach him a lesson." Another adds.

"No ... guys ... let's just go get a drink. Look at him ... he can't hurt anyone." He tries to stop his bros. But, they ignore him and head towards Ned.

They begin to harass him and call him names. Theo is in the back looking at it all happened. They call him fag. They push him against the car and punch his stomach. Ned looked at Theodore with a sense of being betrayed. Theo looks away and hears Ned's cries of pain. He can't take it ... as his heart races. His hands ball up. Finally, deep emotion reaches his heart. He can't let his best friend go through this. He can't become the bully he always hated. It was his time to be the hero that deserved a body like his.

"Hey, Theo get a punch in ... show this fag you want nothing to do with him." His posse laughed.

Theo released his punch. Ned closed his eyes fearing the punch from his ex friend. But, the punch never came. Instead one of the jocks cried out. Ned opened his eyes to see Theo fighting off the bullies. The surprise attack gave him an advantage. "Hurry up and get to the car." He yelled to Ned. Ned ran.

The tides began to turn as the three guys begin to over power Theo. Theo took. punches to the face and body. But, he didn't know how much more he could take. Then a honk of a horn rang through the parking lot, as Ned charged the car towards the direction of the fight. The frat guys ran off, as Ned stopped in time. "We'll get you fags later." They yelp.

"Get in." Ned yells to Theo.

Theo stumbles to the car. Ned, quickly, drives drives off. And, they sit in silence.

"Thanks for coming back for me." Theo coughs.

"Well, thanks for saving me." Ned tears up.

"I'm sorry it was my fault ... if i never hung out with them ... they wouldn't have done that." Theo says guiltily.

"I mean you couldn't have known ... but, I'm sorry you lost your new friends and chance to be in the frat." Ned also says guiltily

"I mean who needs friends like them ... when I got a life time of memories with you." Theo smiles.

"But, your right we have nothing in common anymore ... heck you're not even gay anymore." Ned frowns.

Theo thinks hard. "We'll why don't we go play video games ... you still like call of duty right." Theo continues to smile.

Ned perks up. "Yeah!? Do you?"

"I mean yeah it got guns and killing shit with your bros ... so I guess we still got video games in common ... and we can work from there. And, yeah I might be straight. But, I've learned a lot of guys at the gym like twinky guys like you. I can hook you up." Theo smiles.

"That would be great ... so what does this mean? Are we are still friends?" Ned shyly says.

Theodore sighs, "If you still want to be ... I'm sorry with how I was acting. I let being cool go to my head. I won't lie our friendship might be a bit different ... but it been one we had for years. I'm still willing to make this work. And, trust I got other peeps I've been hanging out with ... not just those assholes. Some of them are actually really cool and wouldn't mind hanging out with you. I can get us invited to parties and shit." He paused and looked out the windoe. "I'm not like them ... the frat guys. I guess I was just blinded my suddenly being cool. I was excited that people wanted to hangout with me. But, I wasn't asking if they were decent enough to hang out with." Theo apologized.

"I mean ... I guess I understand. And, i forgive you. And, I don't want to give up on our friendship either ... so yeah ... we are still friends. And, Maybe your coolness can rub off on me." Ned laughed.

Theo rolled his eyes, "Yeah, Maybe ... but it would take a miracle." He tussled Ned's hair. As the two friends drove back to their apartment. Their lives and friendship might be different but, they new they'd make it work out some how.

#5thannualtfstoryexchange #bodyswapmischeif #thegreatstoryteller #body #swap #mischief #jock transformation #nerd to jock #tf story #transformation #story #jock #muscle #gain #reality shift #personality change #age progession

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shuitoji · 15 days ago

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Yuuji stares out the window contemplating leaving now but he had to wait one more hour, he had agreed the time with Megumi anyway. After the call, his uncle there were twenty more and 25 messages which always ended with “you ungrateful brat”.

Maybe Yuuji was being selfish, but maybe it wasn’t that bad. He's never really got the chance to just care about himself or be selfish. His whole life it was always what Sukuna wanted.

Yuuji decided to kill time by playing some of his favourite songs to relax, 505, softcore ect. He hasn’t really got the chance to relax the past few days and the trip will be a chance to destress.

He’s looking forward to seeing some of his old friends, mainly Nobara. He hasn’t seen most of his friends since he was 15 and he was whisked away to the usa, at least megumi was there with him. Anyway, Nobara was looking forward to seeing them again, they’re planning on meeting up at a cafe.

After a few more minutes Megumi finally texts saying the car is outside and ready to go.Yuuji picked up his suitcases and headed to the elevator

When the elevator door shut, he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. His surroundings felt smaller and it felt like his chest was getting tighter, everything around him felt blurry and time seemed like it was passing slower. Until the elevator door pinged open.

Yuuji ran through the door as he tried to relax his breath, he didn’t want anyone to see him like this, he felt vulnerable and that's one thing his uncle taught him not to be. He relaxed his breathing eventually and walked out the building like nothing happened.

Yuuji never told Megumi how he’s been feeling the past few days but he knows Megumi is worried about him. If he wasn't, why would he be texting Yuuji every thirty minutes just to ask him if he’s okay.

“Hi Yuuji” megumi says while leaning on the black porsche “you ready to go” he opens the door.

“You really don’t need to open the doors for me,” Yuuji says while getting into the car.

“I’m your assistant” Megumi responds by taking the suitcase from Yuuji’s hand and taking it to the boot of the car.

“Not right now we're going on holiday,” Yuuji says relaxing in his seat.

“Not what the contract said” He responds by getting into the driver's seat.

Yuuji chuckles a bit but he’s saddened by the fact Megumi is driving instead of sitting with him. He wanted to spend every minute with his best friend but he didn't want to continue with a debate he wouldn’t be able to win.

A few minutes into the drive Megumi asks “any way why are we using Sukunas’s private jet, knowing Gojo he probably offered one of his many jets”

Yuuji chuckles awkwardly “no reason” he responds.

There was a reason one of Sukuna’s messages ticked him off a bit too much and he knew all the things He chooses to eat and drink on there come straight from Sukuna’s bank account.

“Right” megumi says clearly not believing him.

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

On the jet

Yuuji never really liked schedules, he tended to do things when he wanted to. If he wanted to sleep he’d sleep, if he wanted to play video games he would, but that all changed a year after his uncle adopted him and Sukuna wanted Yuuji to follow in his footsteps as a world famous boxer. 8 years later Yuuji got there. But it didn’t feel worth it, all those diets, all those hours he spent training that he could’ve spent playing with other kids, just for him to collapse before his big match and flee the country to his home country just so he could avoid his uncle.

“I feel like a failure,” Yuuji mutters, leaning back into his seat.

“Your not a failure” Megumi replies in a calming tone “ your just having a couple of bad days”

Yuuji nods in agreement “I guess but when my uncle finds out he's probably gonna kill me” he drags his thumb across his neck to emphasise his point.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have used his jet then” megumi responds “also if he was going to kill you he would have done it by now”

“Stop thinking” megumi says while getting out his laptop and opening it. “ how do you know i was thinking” Yuuji says “can you read minds now”

Megumi chuckles “no you just look like you're in pain every time you think” he says jokingly “you’ve never been that bright and being hit so many times in your head is probably the reason why thinking causes you pain”.

Yuuji pulls a face that makes him look both irritated and amused “be careful i can fire you” he spat.

“But you wont you never will” megumi mutters changing his focus back to his laptop.

“I know,”Yuuji whispers, taking a magazine and opening it.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #jjk #ao3 writer #jjk fanfic #fanfiction #jjk fanworks #jjk sukuna #jjk yuji #jujutsu sukuna #jjk yuuji #itadori yuuji #yuji x megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi

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theretirementstory · 1 year ago

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Bonjour à tous, it is 16c out there and feeling fresh but for me that is much better than the heat that we have had. One good thing about the “chaleur” is that it can produce some stunning “orages” (thunderstorms), like the one Thursday into Friday it seemed to go on for such a long time, with the sky lighting up wonderfully and the thunderclaps not too frightening.

It seems to have been a long week, I was up early to go to hospital on Monday. The taxi picked me up at 7am 😳 and we had to pick up another person so our journey took us on a road I had never been on. We went through villages and lovely countryside before arriving in the village which has the local attraction “Nigloland” a theme park which some say is better than Disneyland. It’s smaller, has less crowds and still plenty to entertain all ages.

I had two transfusions, the first was fine but the second made me really cold and I began trembling uncontrollably, guess the nurses have seen it all as they were not concerned by it. Then it was sleep time as I was to wake up at 4am (yes really) get dressed, have breakfast and be in a taxi by 5am! I was being taken to Paris to have the next stage of my treatment, unfortunately due to lack of “chunky” veins in my arms I was sent back to the hospital in Troyes to have a catheter fitted in my groin and the following day was a repeat of the previous one except with the catheter they were able to extract my cells for freezing. I will add that the journey time to Paris is about 2.5 hours one way! The second day I was in an ambulance, on a stretcher, facing the wrong direction which really did mess with my head! However it’s over and done with now, just have to prepare myself for 4 weeks in hospital from 30 August 😳.

I always think of Shildon in Co. Durham as my “hometown”, known as “the cradle of the railways”, I am interested in the history of this mode of transport, architecture is another interest so as you can imagine seeing the stunning railway stations in Paris, of which the above photo of the Gare de Lyon, is one. On the return journey on Wednesday, safely ensconced on my stretcher, I saw two huge columns with figures on top. Unable to take a photo 😡 I was keen to find out what they were. They were the Throne Tollgate on the Place de I’lle de la Réunion. As we drove further away from the columns, I looked up and in the far distance, between the columns was the Eiffel Tower, how I wished I could have “snapped” that picture!

Monique celebrated her birthday on Friday but unlike last year I was unable to visit her. However, she is coming to see me on Tuesday to help me get ready for my month “away”. I have been washing, cleaning, cooking, relaxing and reading. Trying my best to keep everyone “up to date” on what is happening. I had planned to cut the grass when I got home from hospital but I hadn’t factored in the catheter and the oncologist said definitely no mowing. Monique had said she would do it but I asked my neighbour who is only too happy to help me out.

Anie, messaged yesterday, asking if I would like some vine peaches, having had some from her before I was pleased to accept, she arrived with a little posy of flowers from her garden, two small courgettes and the vine peaches. She is coming back this afternoon to have tea and cake.

So now to the favourite part of this blog for “The Daddy”, it’s my music choices, the first one this week was a Eurovision winner for Luxembourg in 1972. The title was “Apres toi” sung by Vicky Leandros. If I remember rightly after she was announced the winner she sang the song in English (don’t quote me on that) it was released as “Come What May”.

The second song is from way back in 1967, gosh can I remember that far back, yes I can and I have loved this song since I first heard it, it’s “The Letter” by The Box Tops.

It’s a Bank Holiday on Monday in the UK and my gorgeous grandchildren are spending the weekend with “The Daddy”.

“The Trainee Solicitor” has been visiting relatives, reading, relaxing as well as working at home. I hear he has two terracotta planters exactly the same as two I have here. They will look good in the garden, maybe they have the hydrangeas in already 🤔.

Now I really must pack my case, and prepare the house for my absence.

Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine.

#paris #troyes #barsuraube #photography #nigloland #railway stations #architecture #friends #60’s music #70’s music

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thessalian · 2 years ago

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Thess vs Boxing Day

Huh. You learn some really interesting historical shit, and a fair bit about how low your country of residence has stooped, when you look up a simple little thing like “How did Boxing Day start?” to add a little historical sidebar to a Tumblr post.

Well, for starters, I always kind of wondered which were the twelve days of Christmas, specifically. Well, apparently we should be getting or giving turtle doves today, because it is the second day of what is liturgically known as Christmastide.

Anyway, Boxing Day started here in the UK, and mostly you’ll find Commonwealth countries ceiebrating it today, and some other parts of what were considered part of the British Empire (except for the US, who apparently yeeted that into the harbour along with the tea or something, I dunno). In Europe, it’s St Stephen’s Day. Now, here in its country of origin, Boxing Day is a Bank Holiday, which means reduced shop opening hours, reduced bus service, and everybody stays home and eats leftovers, basically. Most of the countries I know about, though ... whether or not they call it Boxing Day specifically, it’s a shopping holiday; kind of like Black Friday, just with a different sort of historical revisionism attached. I mean, when I was a kid, my father told me that we called it “Boxing Day” because we boxed up all the gifts we didn’t want, picked up the gift receipts, and headed out to exchange them. That never quite rang right to me - I was pretty sure that Boxing Day existed before gift receipts, at least - but I never bothered to look up what it actually meant. Until today.

Boxing Day is supposed to be a day about giving to the poor, servants, or any less fortunate. It’s a day where people gave a parcel to their household staff, postal worker, errand boy, people like that. But before that ... aaaaaaaand now I know what the Christmas carol Good King Wenceslas is all about. The church would give alms to the poor on St Stephen’s Day (or the Feast of Stephen), and the ‘Good King Wenceslas’ of the carol is based on an actual person - Saint Wenceslaus 1, Duke of Bohemia, who was canonised for his generosity and charity after his death. According to legend, he was assassinated by his brother, Boselaus the Cruel. Apparently Wenceslaus is some kind of Arthur figure, complete with myth about his resurrection and discovery of Very Important Sword (under a stone, though, sensibly enough). Gotta love the Czechs.

Anyway, point is that today’s supposed to be a day of giving to the less fortunate, and in this country at least, to those who worked so hard for you all year, for far less than you make. And what’s happening today? Massive queues outside Selfridge’s as people hunt for bargains, and strike action by public transport workers who don’t want their jobs downsized to oblivion and maybe to be paid enough to live on. Honestly, I don’t blame anyone for wanting to get the things they need as cheaply as possible at this point, and insane Boxing Day sale prices are probably the only way a lot of people can afford some things. But while Boxing Day hasn’t been about giving for a long time, the fact that it’s currently a day to claw just anything needful away from those who have been taking from us all year just to add to their hoard of money so large that it’s functionally meaningless ... it makes me really sad.

So there you have it: another historical snippet and piece of socioeconomic commentary by everybody’s favourite tick in the “Other” box crammed into human form, Thess. Happy Boxing Day, or St Stephen’s Day, or whatever you celebrate. I may not be able to give you all a parcel or meaningfully provide a tangible gift, this is supposed to be a time for appreciating those who work hard with little or no reward for the ultimate benefit of others. So I’m going to appreciate you guys; everybody on this hellsite. You don’t do this for profit. You don’t do this for fame. Yet you provide stories and songs and artwork and fun trivia facts and tutorials on everything from science to history and way, way beyond. You provide support of the emotional variety so often. You give what’s so often taken for granted - enjoyment, comfort, carefully-researched facts, and ... I guess hope? Hope that not everyone in the world is a complete shitbird. So thank you, Tumblr and those who lurk within. For being you.

#Thess has opinions

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hopeamarsu · 2 years ago

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Whumptober Day 14: Die a Hero or Live Long Enough to Become a Villain

Whumptober masterlist

Benny Miller x gn!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 939

Warnings: Escape from captivity, chase, swimming, bruises, ambiguous ending

Summary: You have escaped the hellhole with Benny, but how long will your luck carry you?

Desperate measures | Failed escape | “I’ll be right behind you.”

“I can’t!” You whimpered, your panic filling you from the inside out.

“You can,” Benny tried soothing you by keeping his voice low and calm, provide you with the needed confidence and comfort that he himself might not fully possess anymore. You’d escaped the facility together, broken and bruised but alive and he was not about to let you down now. No, Benny would make sure you would get away from this hell.

The riverbank was muddy, the water behind it cold and running fast towards the corner where it thundered and galloped like a herd of wild horses. It was loud and watching all the white foam gather on top of the water was scary. It was a desperate sight, mirroring your feelings as you watched how it moved and rolled over rocks that looked sharp like stakes.

“You can do it, baby,” The nickname was new, but you didn’t question it since it provided a much needed warmth inside your cold body. He looked at you, holding his large hands on your shoulders. “You can do anything. It’s just a quick trip across the water, a small dip and then it’s done. I’ll be right behind you, okay? And once we are there?” He pointed towards the opposite bank, your eyes following his lead.

The bank looked like the sweetest little holiday spot and you wanted to giggle when the thought occurred to you. Your inner panic had to be making you delirious. Benny’s gravely voice in your ear made you almost believe in his words. Made you want to see daydreams of spending a holiday with him.

“Once we are there, we are going to make it. Trust me, baby, you can and you will do this.”

“It looks so wide and deep,” You muttered, eyeing the water with trepidation. Swimming had never been your strongest suit and with the depleted energy reserves you had, you were seriously questioning your ability to make it out. Benny’s hand and long fingers turned your chin and face softly to meet your eyes. His mouth - the one made of sin and all the promises mama always told you to stay wary of - lifted to a small smile and you’d would have been a total goner in any other setting than this one.

He was just as dirty and bloody as you felt. Matted hair and torn clothing included. His blue eyes had a trace of the same panic you felt in your gut but he seemed also calm, collected. Like he’d done this before, an escape this crazy while using desperate measures.

“I believe in you.” He whispered, the sound caressing you like the sweetest honey dripping down your spine. You held his gaze, trying to read between the lines and shadows blocking you but didn’t get far when the angry yelling of people chasing you cut through the woods and your hazy mind.

Your eyes widened, the earlier panic Benny had been able to diminish minutely rearing its ugly head again. You whimpered, trying to pull yourself in to make yourself as small as possible.

He cursed and you saw how the wall slammed shut in the blue orbs. He turned his head to the side, gauging the distance between you and them. Not happy with the results judging by the clenched jaw, Benny turned back to you and pulled you in for a rough hug. His body pressed against you, letting you feel each of his muscles poised and ready for an attack.

“When you get to the bank, you run, baby. You run as fast as you can and don’t look back. No matter what you do, you don’t look back.” His words burned bright in your chest as realization dawned on you. You wiggled out of his grasp, fresh set of tears streaming down your cheeks, muddying the dirty streaks even more.

“Benny, no! NO!” You shook your head, hoping to plead and beg, but Benny just stood there, the wall of muscle and determination impossible to move.

“Go. Fuck, baby, GO!” He pointed you towards the water. You hesitated, trying to decide between going and staying behind with him. It was clear this was his plan, staying put and fighting the captors all alone. Die a hero’s death, while becoming a villain to you when he left you all alone. You shook your head, trying to grab a hold of his hand to pull Benny with you, but he deflected it quickly.

“GO NOW!” Benny roared over the blood rushing in your ears, the other voices growing closer and more angry as the first of the captors caught sight of you two. When you didn’t budge, he moved fast. He placed his hand between your shoulder blades and spoke quietly, placing every good thing still inside him on his tone. “You can do this. I believe in you.”

With those parting words, Benny steered you to the edge of the water and into it. He went in with you, until his knees were submerged before suddenly twisting around, shielding you with his body. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” He winked over his shoulder, some of that made-up playfulness finding its way to his eyes and you let out a watery chuckle at it. He had nothing but his busted up knuckles and legs, but something in his tone told him he wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

“I’m holding you to that, Ben Miller.” You whispered and dived in to the water, drowning your ears so you wouldn’t have to hear him confront the men at the edge of the bank now.

#Mwhumptober #whumptober 2022 #whumptober2022 #benny miller #benny miller x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #nro.14 #desperate measures #i'll be right behind you #fic #whump #escape from captivity #hopeamarsu

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majestyeverlasting · 3 years ago

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Hi!! Could you write for Bucky prompts 4 and 26??

♡ Hi, Anon!! I love this prompt pairing so much! Thank you for requesting this, and for waiting on me to get around to it! In this one, Bucky and the reader visit a park in Brooklyn that stirs up some nostalgic memories. But what he doesn't know is that, later that night, he'll learn that he's going to be a father. There's some pretty fall imagery and lots of sweet moments. I hope you like it! (Note: this isn’t canon regarding Bucky’s true age)

♡ Prompt 4: "Remember we used to come here when we were kids?"

♡ Prompt 26: “I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I? You’re really pregnant?”

All I Ever Wanted

There was a crispness to the evening air as the beginnings of fall settled within Brooklyn. The trees of Prospect Park, once green, were slowly transitioning into rich shades of orange and red. As you and Bucky walked along one of the pathways, leaves crunching beneath your shoes, there was an absence of car engines and horns—it was peaceful. All there was to be heard was chirping birds, the soft chatter of other park-goers, and the occasional whir of a cyclist’s wheels whenever one passed by.

Upon reaching a wooden bridge, the gentle sound of flowing water emerged as well. Beneath it, was a slender waterfall that fed into a small pond with dead leaves floating on the surface. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you admired it from over the railing. Somehow the whole day, including that moment itself, had managed to feel like a dream.

The two of you hadn’t been to Prospect Park in what felt like forever. Life had a way of sweeping you up in winds of responsibility that kept you from enjoying moments of stillness. But those winds had since drifted elsewhere, leaving the two of you with the freedom to simply be. Venturing out into nature and away from the noise had been Bucky’s suggestion earlier that morning. There was no place like the outdoors that was capable of soothing the soul.

“Look, doll,” he said eventually. Your eyes followed where his free hand pointed.

On one of the big rocks peeking out of the water below, a yellow butterfly had perched itself on a rock. “Yeah, I see it. It’s so pretty.” You smiled when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

“You know what butterflies symbolize?” You met his gaze, willing for him to continue. “Life and new beginnings,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a fraction of a second, you froze. You’d managed to keep yourself collected for the entirety of the day, but hearing those words quickened your heartbeat. Enough so that you became all the more reminded of what he didn’t know—not yet.

That morning, as he spoke to you through the bathroom door about going to Prospect Park, you’d been staring at a positive pregnancy test. You barely had enough breath to agree to the outing. And when he’d asked if you were okay, you told him you were fine, but left out the fact that your lives would be changing forever in the months to come.

The two lines on the stick explained weeks worth of your body trying to communicate to you. It explained that deep sense of knowing that refused to go away. To say that you wanted to merely tell Bucky would’ve been the largest understatement of your lifetime. With all the emotions that stirred within you, you wanted to scream, cry, and jump at the same time.

A voice within you encouraged you to make the moment you told Bucky really special and intimate. Especially considering every turn that his life had taken over the years. So you vowed to wait until the two of you arrived home from your evening at the park.

“Life and new beginnings,” you repeated. You were already aware that such was associated with butterflies, but hearing him say it in that moment carried a certain magnitude. “I love the sound of that.”

Later, after walking further, you found yourselves nestled on one of the benches overlooking the lake. The water sparkled in the warm light of the sun as it prepared to set. A couple men stood peppered along the bank fishing. Children giggled as they chased after each other. Paired with the fall trees and colors all around, it was nothing short of a beautiful scene.

You let your head rest on Bucky’s shoulder, and took his real hand in yours to play with his fingers. There was a time, years ago, when the two of you would play along that same lake—throughout the whole park, actually.

You were the first to speak after a while, “Remember we used to come here when we were kids?” You straightened up from his shoulder to look at him.

“Of course I do,” he said, a smile starting on his face. “Especially during the summer. We’d always try to find open fire hydrants to play in after we left. And if we were lucky, our mom’s would let us get ice cream or shaved ice,” he recounted, chuckling. “Those were the days.”

You shook your head. “I know. Now look at us.” About to have a child of our own, you thought.

“Yup. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, casting out a brief look around at the serenic evening. Then he focused back on you, his tone shifting, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” you tried not to answer too fast. “Why?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes a bit and gave a shrug. “I don’t know, I can just tell that something’s on your mind—ever since this morning,” he noted. “But you have yet to tell me what that something is, pretty girl.”

It took everything not to tell him right then and there, as you sat under a blue and orange sky in the park you knew like the back of your hand.

You offered him half a smile. “I’m that easy to read?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not necessarily. I’ve been reading you for a long time so it’s easy.” You allowed yourself to chuckle when he playfully quirked his brows. “So am I gonna have to work really hard to coax it out of you?”

You shook your head earnestly. “I promise I'll tell you when we get home… I have something to show you.”

On your way out of the park, there was a mama duck waddling under a tree with her ducklings trailing behind her.

It wasn’t until after you and Bucky made it back to your apartment, and had changed into something comfortable, that you told him you were ready. He sat on the edge of the bed as you went to retrieve the small gift box holding the pregnancy test. It was a miracle that you had had enough supplies left over from birthdays and holidays to be able to make it look as presentable as it did.

You extended it to him from a couple feet away. So much anticipation had built within you that you felt light, and as though you were buzzing.

Bucky accepted the box, and looked up at you. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes. “Why are you standing a mile away from me? C’mere.” You inched closer, and laughed when he pulled you to stand more so between his spread legs.

As he began to undo the white ribbon on the box, your lower lip was secured between your teeth. It seemed as though he was moving entirely too slow and fast at the same time.

As soon as he popped the lid off to reveal the pregnancy test sitting on top of little strips of crinkled, beige paper strips, your heartbeat sped up. Bucky’s attention lingered on the test. When he finally looked up, his gaze attested to the influx of thoughts that had been sparked into motion within his mind.

“I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I?” He briefly looked back down to stick again. Two lines. “You’re really pregnant?”

A smile broke across your face. With the news out, it felt as though you were uncaging a group of birds that had been longing for freedom for way too long. Before you could say anything else, Bucky set the box aside and stood to press his lips to yours. You stumbled back at the intentness in which he gripped your waist. It was a kiss that you felt every part of him through; his love, his passion, his warmth. And an intoxicating mix of joy and expectation.

He pulled away just enough to speak. “We’re gonna be parents?” His breath fanned over your lips. Then he leaned back in to kiss you once more, a soft peck. “You’re carrying our child?”

Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt, and the feeling of palms against your skin was pleasant in the best way. One was cooler than the other, but they were both gentle and reverent.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I found out this morning.”

He scratched gently at your stomach, sending a shiver through you. “You managed to keep it to yourself the whole day. That’s what was on your mind?” He kissed you again.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted to tell you. No idea.” You brought your hands up to his cheeks, the budding stubble scratchy against your palms. “But I wanted to wait until we came back from Prospect.”

Bucky released a breath after a few beats of silence. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said, voice low. “This is so crazy—a good crazy.”

“I know. I’m happy and terrified at the same time,” you admitted. “I’ve never felt this way in my entire life, but it feels….”

“Good,” he finished.

A laugh escaped you. “Yeah.”

Seconds later, he was getting down onto his knees to be level with your stomach. It wasn’t until he lifted your shirt to press a kiss to your stomach that the reality of the moment set in. For the first time since learning about your pregnancy, tears slipped down your cheeks.

Bucky heard you sniffle, and stood back up to take your hands in his. “This is all I ever wanted, you know that, doll?” A few tears had come to the waterline of his eyes. “A beautiful wife, a family. This is all something I thought I’d never have.”

You sniffled again, nodding. “You deserve everything,” you murmured.

“I have my everything right in front of me.”

Without waiting another moment, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tighter than you had in a while. Parents. The two of you were going to be parents.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, if you'd like. For more fluffy Bucky Barnes fics, click here.

#Bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #avengers fluff #the avengers #marvel #marvel fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #fatws

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raggaraddy · 4 years ago

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Sugar Daddy turned sour

Request: Hi!!!! read all of ur works its all amazing cant believe ur new.. can i request for a yan sugar daddy taehyung x reader x yan sugar daddy jungkook. they found out that that y/n have 2 sugar daddies and they lost their sanity(as if they even have that)...Thank u and YOU GOOD,KEEP GOING💜💞💞💞💞😘😁

A/N: I don't know how to post a reply to a personal message yet because I am new and Tumblr deficient 😅 But I hope you like the scenario ^-^ thanks for the request ��

Here for Part 2

Summary: Juggling two guys and getting everything you want from them has always been easy for you, and Taehyung and Jungkook are no exception. Or so you thought.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, assault, cheating, violence.

Yandere! Taehyung

Yandere! Jungkook

Sunday. Taehyungs day.

You open your webcam, checking your eyeliner quickly in the startup view as you wait for the Tae to pick up on the other side. He pops up quickly a beaming smile filling his face.

“Y/n! Baby, I’ve missed you.” He’s radiant. As happy and as bubbly he always is.

You go along listening to him excitedly run through his past few days, telling you everything in excruciating detail as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another. He may be an adult but he certainly has a young soul. The whole while you feign attention, your fingers continually fidgeting with the diamond necklace or the matching bracelet he had sent you a few weeks back.

“How was your weekend?” He finally gets around to asking.

“Not so good. I always have to work so much," You complain, batting your eyes at the camera.

“You could always quit and come live with me.” He jokes-but not really. It’s a topic he has raised 3 times already. And you have the same answer ready as always.

“Daddy, you know I’m a strong and independent woman. I could never let someone else pay for me.” You pout, running your tongue over your lower lip while pushing your chest up a little to draw attention. “It’s just my rent is so expensive. I feel like I work just to pay the bills.”

In truth, your rent is already being covered by someone else. But he doesn’t need to know that.

While you continue to run through the fabricated details of your weekend, Taehyung is distracted, looking down at his phone. You know what's happening. It’s like a game. And you’re winning. Your banking app sends a notification, letting you know that K. Taehyung has just sent you a payment.

You open it up. Yep. That's rent for the month. Or more, money for that new TV you wanted.

“Oh! Daddy, noo.” You whine down the camera. “You can’t. I am okay. Really. Please don’t spend your money on me.” You frown if only to stop the smile that is fighting to fill your face.

“I want to baby. I have the money, and I just want you to be happy. Don’t stress about bills okay. I’m here.”

Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.

“Okay Daddy, if you insist.”

Tuesday. Jungkooks day.

With Jungkook it’s a much more straightforward transaction. He has said he wants to pay for you and he hates the back and forth pretences. He just wants you to say thank you, smile pretty, and give him all your attention.

“Do you need anything more for the week?” He asks through the camera.

“No Daddy, you take such good care of me. Thank you.” You smile.

“You still have the weekend of the 14th off?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively. Off-screen you quickly scan through your calendar.

14th, 15th and 16th: Jk weekend.

Hmm, that came up quicker than you expected. You try to keep your booty calls with them as far apart as possible.

“Of course, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You say, it been less than 100% truthful.

“Months.” He corrects with a surreptitious undertone.

“Where are we staying this time?”

You always insist to stay in hotels. Because ‘your apartment feels too busy and mundane, and you want the time you spend with him to be magical and undistracted’. Honestly, you just don’t want him, either of them, in your personal space. You purposefully chose boys who live a few hours away. It’s hard enough to keep them separated in your everyday life with them being far away. It could only get messy for them to know where you live and how to reach you in person.

You’ve certainly gotten smart at this. Arranging the two men into different days of the week, scheduling them into your calendar to keep them apart and unaware of the other. Both had specifically said very early on that they do not want to share you with anyone else. And that you were all theirs. And while both of them seemed to trust you, you knew their reactions would be unpleasant, to say the least, if they found out about the other.

Sugar Daddies can be so possessive.

But while both these men are very handsome, money is better and more reliable than boys. And if they are stupid enough to spend it all on you, why should you care.

The week passes quickly and it’s the 14th. Once more you find yourself in the lobby of a 5-star hotel. Jungkook arrived in town early and sent you a message with the room number.

Time to actually work for your money.

You knock on the door only to find it slightly open. Entering there is a trail of rose petals lining the floor leading into the suite. All the lights are dimmed with a warmth of candlelight filling the room. This is so typically Jungkook. Pulling out all the stops to try to impress.

Dropping your bag at the entrance, you close the door behind you and explore inwards.

“Daddy?” You call out in a singsong voice. Your heels clack on the tiled floor as you round the corner into the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the lounge, one leg crossed over the other, arms rested up over the back. You smile at seeing him. You always seem to forget just how stunning he is in person.

“Which one of us are you referring to?” A deep voice startles you from behind. You jolt, spinning to see Taehyung standing behind you leaning against the wall.

Holy fuck.

Your mind starts to jumble through what is happening. Thinking about what it was that might have given you away. Evaluating how much they may know. And planning your next move.

Damn it. You doubt you’ll be able to smooth talk your way out of this with Jungkook. He’s too direct and absolute. So you’ll just have to accept that that relationship is over. However, you might be able to salvage this situation with Taehyung if you play your cards right. Being defensive should do the trick.

“What is this?” You snap, keeping focused on Taehyung. “This is such a violation of my privacy! You keep smothering me Taehyung! See this is why I tried to find someone else to hang out with.” You stomp your foot. He would always wrap around your finger so quickly with the little girl act.

“Ha!” He blurts out a short laugh in contradiction to how you expected him to react. “Wow. No, go on. I want to see where this is going.”

“Do you think we only just found out about each other?” Jungkook pipes up, coming from the couch.

You sigh. You had almost saved enough for a holiday to the Maldives too. But they seem to know too much. Fine. You can burn both relationships. They were starting to get too clingy anyway. “Whatever.” You roll your eyes. You got all you could from them. Time to move on to the next.

As you shrug them off, Taehyung steps into the path of the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Both he and Jungkook start to close in tighter. There is a cold tone to his words. Something far too close to a threat for your comfort. Even in heels, both men naturally stand taller than you which usually wouldn’t bother you. But with an unsteadiness to your footing and a very short dress on, in a dark room with two men you have used and spurned, you are feeling even more vulnerable than you feel you should.

“Move.” You order.

A smirk on his lips, Taehyung lifts his hand up and backhands you, knocking you back a few stumbled steps. You gasp, your hand clinging to your cheek, eyes wide in shock. He starts forward, Jungkook intervening, standing between the two of you.

You can not believe he just hit you! He has never done anything like that before.

“No, don’t do that.” He stops Taehyung as he starts to swing again. Shaking all over, you’re relieved that one of them is seeing sense. You take the outstretched hand of Jungkook, lip trembling from the burn on your cheek. He draws you closer and you wrap into him for protection. In the same motion, his free hand swings down punching you in the stomach, doubling you over, dropping you to the floor. “If you hit her head, she might get spaced out. I want her to feel this.”

His words send a chill down your spine. This can not be happening.

“Are you crazy!” You gape, trying to speak while gulping down air. Your head is dizzy, your lungs burning. Kicking off your heels for better movement, you climb back up to your feet not wanting to engage either man. Eyes focused you look past Taehyung to the door, storming forward. “I’m leaving. We’ll forget all of this, okay.” You bargain through short, panicked breath.

Taehyungs large hand slams you into the wall, pressing his palm against your shoulder. He follows Jungkooks lead, pounding his fist into your gut. And then again. And again. His hold removes letting you free and you plummet to the ground, crying within broken huffs while cradling your battered torso.

“You’re right. That is better.” He laughs at Jungkook.

“Stop!” You beg, unable to raise your voice above a soft yelp.

“What's wrong baby? You wanted two men. Now you have them.” Taehyungs bright smile returns to his face. This time with an entirely different meaning than it had ever had until it shifts into a straight, harsh look that you have never seen from him. “Didn't you always say you wished there was some way you could repay me?”

“You said that to me too.” Jungkook joins his side, both hovering above you, trapping you between them, the wall, and the floor.

Leaning down Jungkooks hand follows you as you squirm away from him. His fingers wrapped around your throat and lift you up, keeping you against the wall. He takes advantage of you being stuck, leaning into you pressing his lips to yours as you resist as much as you can.

“Baby, you’re going to pay us back for every dollar we spent on you.” He snarls.

Taehyung turns your face to him, also forcing a kiss on you. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll see that we know how to share.”

Part 2

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere taehyung #sugadaddy #cheating #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #yandere #yandere bangtan #taekook #bts reactions #bangtan reactions #jungkook #taehyung

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years ago

Note

Haii so i have a promot for you, it’s stuckony and it’s based around a carrie Underwood song called “ Renegade Runaway “

So basically Steve and Bucky are outlaw, who rob trains, banks, and gamble

Tony is a sharffes and teacher kid, who is also one hell of a gunslinger (like Doc holiday,bat masterson, and Wyatt earp), he’s also a blacksmith

Also happy early birthday! 💙

Thank you for the birthday wishes! This ended up being a lot sadder than I originally intended and I wasn't able to include everything, but I hope it still lives up to expectations!

As always, this fic is also on ao3

Tony has his pistol out almost before the door closes behind him. He peers into the darkness of the yard behind the smithy, silently complaining about his eyes taking too long to adjust from the bright fires to the gathering twilight. It puts him at a disadvantage for whoever is waiting out there for him.

“Aw darlin’, is that any way to greet your two favorite outlaws?” someone drawls.

Tony snorts and holsters the pistol again. “Two outlaws, you might be, but my favorites? Far from it,” he snarks.

Bucky Barnes steps into the light spilling out from the window, hand dramatically placed over his heart. “Tony, that cuts me to the quick. Really, the cruelty of your words, they break my heart.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, unimpressed. He turns his back on Bucky and locks the smithy door. Peter will leave through the front when he’s finished sweeping and extinguished the lights. Everything else is already stored in the backroom for the night, so there’s no reason he needs to worry about leaving the door unlocked, though he certainly could. Timely isn’t the sort of town that invites trouble, not like some of the lawless towns further west.

When he turns back around, Bucky has moved closer, nearly looming over him. Tony leans back against the door, letting Bucky press against him. Bucky will do it anyway, it’s easier to just give in to him now instead of putting up a fight they both know he doesn’t want.

“You gonna apologize for bein’ so mean?” Bucky breathes into his ear.

“No,” Tony says flatly, crossing his arms. “It’s the honest truth.”

It’s not. Nearly everyone in Timely knows Tony’s sweet on Bucky and his partner, who must be around here somewhere since Bucky mentioned both of them. But it wouldn’t do to be too easy for them. He’s not one of Natasha’s girls after all, giggly and flirtatious and willing to turn their skirts up for a little bit of coin. He likes to make his boys work to get him soft and smiling.

“Now that’s just an outright lie,” someone else says. Tony turns his head to see Steve’s bright blue eyes much closer than he’d expected given that he’d only sensed one of them in the yard earlier. “You love us.”

“Don’t,” Tony denies, turning his head in the other direction so he doesn’t have to see either of them. Steve may be right, Tony isn’t nearly as annoyed by them as he pretends, but loving the two of them makes his life so very hard that it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t have any feelings for them.

“Tony,” Steve murmurs.

Tony stubbornly refuses to look at them. These two outlaws waltz into town all too rarely, typically on the heels of some mess that’ll raise the rewards on their heads yet again, and turn Tony’s life upside down for the brief time they’re in Timely, only to break his heart when they inevitably leave. Sometimes, he wishes he’d never met them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers eventually, keeping his eyes fixed on the side of the saloon down the street. “The sheriff’s in town tonight. If he catches wind of you—you know Howard wants to be the one to bring you in.”

“Your father’s on a wild goose chase, honey,” Bucky says. “He got word we were hiding out in Howling Canyon.”

“Are you?”

“Do we look like we’re in Howling Canyon?” Steve asks amusedly.

“No. I meant when you’re not—” He stops, biting back the last few words. When they’re not in his bed, he means, but he can’t bring himself to say that. After an awkward pause, he finishes, “When you’re not in town.”

“No,” Steve assures him. “We’re staying—”

“Don’t tell me where,” Tony interrupts, finally turning back to look at them. They both look worried, and he wonders if they know how tired he is of this game they’ve been playing for five years. “You know I’ll have to tell Howard if he asks.”

Not that Howard would. The sheriff is one of the few people who doesn’t know that his son houses the two outlaws when they’re in Timely. He couldn’t even imagine that his son would dare defy him under his nose like that. But both Steve and Bucky know what happens when Tony doesn’t jump to Howard’s every order. They were the ones who took him to Dr. Banner’s after all, after Howard broke his arm for taking too long to finish the horseshoes for Jericho.

Steve’s eyes are stormy at the reminder of Howard’s wrath. Bucky’s mouth is set in a tight line. Neither of them approve of Howard. They’ve told Tony once before that they would take him away from here if only he would let them. But he won’t. There’s too much keeping him in Timely: his mother and Rhodey, even young Peter, who’s only been apprenticed to him for a few months. He can’t just go gallivanting off into the sunset, no matter how badly he wants to. And besides, he knows that the only reason they ask is so that he can get away from Howard. He doesn’t delude himself there. They’d let him go with them just out of range of Howard’s reach and then they’d cut him loose. It’s pity that makes them ask, not—not anything else.

“Just—” He sighs and ducks out from under Bucky’s arm. “Come on. Howard isn’t stupid. He’ll figure out you’re not in Howling Canyon eventually, and I’d like both your cocks at least once before he does.”

Tony once had aspirations of being one of the best gunslingers in the west. He had the best aim this side of the Mississippi and he was quick. He’d been planning on making a name for himself, same as his father had.

Bucky’s bullet through his left thigh had put an end to that dream real quick.

He’d been young—hardly even an adult—foolhardy, and unwilling to listen to Jarvis’ warnings that he wasn’t ready to take on Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, who’d been terrorizing the towns in their small territory for the last three years. He’d been so convinced that he would be the one to bring them in and collect on the bounty. He’d studied their movements, known how they thought, and when Timely had gotten word that the two outlaws had robbed a bank in Faircreek, he’d ridden off on his own toward Harshaw instead of Tombstone like all the evidence pointed to.

He’d been right; the trail to Tombstone had been a false one. But he hadn’t had long to rest on his laurels because he’d been noticed. Steve and Bucky hadn’t been as lax in their vigilance as he’d assumed and they’d lain in wait for him, ambushed him, and ultimately shot him.

To this day, he doesn’t know what drove the two outlaws to take him in instead of leaving him out there to die in the desert, but they had. They’d carefully nursed him back to health, taken care of him when his injury had led to fever, and eventually, after nearly two months together, brought him to their bed with sweet words and sweeter kisses. He’d thought he would have done anything for them after that night, but the next morning, they’d sent him back on his way to Timely with nothing more than a promise that they’d be dropping in to check on him. It had been kind, though the damage had already been done. Tony’s injury ensured he’d never be the gunslinger he’d once dreamt of and his heart had been shattered. He’d apprenticed with Happy, taken up blacksmithing as a trade, and moved out of his parents’ home and into a small house not far from the smithy as his bad leg kept him from walking any great distances.

And when Bucky and Steve had kept their promise and stopped by his house to see him, well, his resolve to send them packing had withered. He’d made sure no one had noticed them and welcomed them inside, his poor heart still beating against his ribs in the pattern of their names.

They love him, he thinks, or at least they love him as best as they can, which is to say they don’t love him as much as he loves them. They certainly don’t love him enough to take him with them. And he understands—he does, despite what Rhodey thinks. His bad leg is a hindrance to outlaws such as themselves, particularly when it isn’t like they have a home base they could leave him out while they go out to commit whatever crime has struck their fancy. No, they’ve been nomads for as long as Tony has known them, never tied down to any one place, and he’s grateful that they at least love him enough to stay in this area instead of moving on to greener pastures.

He checks that the street is clear and then hurries them into his home. It’s changed slightly since the last time Steve and Bucky were in Timely. Pepper gifted him with a rug to go in front of the fireplace six months ago and Peter’s aunt made him a series of sketches of the view from the top of Howling Canyon that he hung in the kitchen. But other than that, the house is much the same as it’s always been, and he isn’t surprised when neither Steve nor Bucky pay any attention to the changes in favor of following him to the bedroom.

They strip him in silence, hands so gentle he’d call them reverent if he didn’t know any better. But he does know better. They don’t love him enough to be reverent. Reverence is saved for each other, for how Steve looks at Bucky in the early dawn when he thinks they’re both still sleeping, for Bucky saving Steve an extra cup of coffee, for the way they know how to tack each other’s horses just as well as they know their own. Reverence isn’t saved for him.

But he treats themreverently. He’s always treated them that way, since the night they took him to their bed. He’s never known any other way to love. They had been his first, the ones to ruin him for all others, and a small part of him hates them for that even as he kisses them hungrily, savoring these few moments he gets to spend with them.

He goes to his knees for them, worships Bucky’s cock with his mouth while Steve undresses, then lays down for Steve to open him up. He lets them fuck him, moans their names while they whisper praises in his ear, and pretends that this is enough, that he doesn’t want more. He imagines it though, imagines Steve lifting him onto Nomad and following Bucky out of town, never to return.

Bucky falls asleep when they’re done—he always does—so Steve is the one who stands and finds a washcloth from somewhere in the house. He wipes the three of them off and then lays down on his side, facing Tony.

“You’re sad tonight,” he says quietly.

“No,” Tony denies. He doesn’t want them to know that he wants more, that he’d do just about anything to get it. They’ll only feel bad that they can’t give him what he wants, like it’s any fault of theirs.

“You are,” Steve insists. “You try to hide it, but you are.”

“Steve…”

“I won’t ask you.” Steve’s own eyes are sad as he reaches out to run delicate fingers over Tony’s face. “I know you wouldn’t tell me anyway. That’s okay; you’re entitled to your secrets, sweetheart.”

There’s something terribly earnest in Steve’s expression, something that Tony doesn’t think he’s seen before. And he’s so close to blurting it out, begging Steve for something he can’t have. He swallows the words back with difficulty and asks instead, “What did you two do this time?”

Steve shrugs as best as he can. “A train.”

“A—” Tony stills. “You didn’t. Steve, you couldn’t. You’ll bring the Marshals down on your heads.”

“Had to,” Steve says casually. “Was the only way to get enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Gold,” Bucky says from behind him, startling him.

It takes a moment for the word to sink in, but his breath comes faster as he realizes just what they’ve done. “You didn’t,” he repeats, sitting up. He scrambles to the end of the bed, as far away from Steve and Bucky as he can get. The outlaws sit up as well, leaning against the headboard as they watch him warily. “What were the two of you thinking? No, don’t answer that. I know exactly what you were thinking: you weren’t. Because if you were, you would have known better. Forget the Marshals, you’ll bring the whole damn army down on your heads. How could you have been so stupid?”

“We were thinking we’d like to get a house,” Steve says, cutting him off.

“A—a house?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky agrees. “We found ourselves a little patch of land in California we’d like to settle down in. Needed one last robbery to get us enough money to buy it.”

Tony’s heart stops beating, he swears it does. “California,” he repeats faintly.

“Sure, they’ll never think to look for us in California.”

Bucky sounds so calm, as though he can’t see that Tony’s heart is breaking in front of them. How can he be so cruel? How can he just causally mention that they’re leaving him forever, as though the last five years mean nothing to them?

“When are you leaving?” he manages, and it shocks him how calm he sounds when he feels as though his grief is visible from the stars.

“Tomorrow,” Steve says. There’s something careful in the way he looks at Tony, like he at least might have some idea of what’s going through Tony’s head.

Tony repeats, “Tomorrow.” He nods, blinking furiously to try to clear his eyes of the treacherous tears he can feel welling up. He can’t let them know. They’re leaving tomorrow and he doesn’t want them to go. He knows it would have happened eventually. The lawless west is shrinking more and more each day. It’s only a matter of time before the law catches up to them. Their only option is to leave and go somewhere no one knows them. But does it have to be so soon? He’d thought they would have more time.

“So this is goodbye, then,” he says, twisting the bedcovers in his hands. He can’t look at them, too afraid they’ll know what’s racing through his head if he does.

“…Goodbye?” Steve asks. He sounds puzzled. Tony hates that. What right does he have to be confused? That’s for Tony, seeing as how he’s the one who’s been left out of the loop during all this. God above, how long have they been planning this? It must have been at least a year in the making.

“Yes, goodbye,” he says. “One last fuck to see you off, right?”

“One last… Tony,” Bucky says sharply, “do you think we’re plannin’ on leavin’ you here?”

Tony’s heart stops for the second time in as many minutes. “You’re not?” he asks, daring to peek at them. Steve looks horrified, Bucky thunderous as he leans forward to tug Tony into his arms. Tony doesn’t resist, too tired of pretending, too confused by the twists this conversation has taken to argue. Steve curls up against Bucky’s side, carding gentle fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Sweetheart, did you think we weren’t gone on you?” Steve asks, kissing his forehead. “We’ve been fallin’ for you since you figured out where we were goin’ and chased us down.”

“But you never asked me to come with you.”

“S’pose that’s my fault,” Bucky says gruffly. He gingerly touches the scar on Tony’s leg where Bucky’s bullet had ripped through him. “We saw how much pain you were in an’ we couldn’t bear to make it any worse. An’ that’s just what would have happened if you’d spent every night out there with us. We wanted to keep you safe, thought you’d be happier if you weren’t always in pain.”

“I wanted you,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to the underside of Bucky’s jaw. “I didn’t want to be left behind.”

“Yeah, we, uh, we get that now,” Steve mutters sheepishly. “Tony, say you’ll come with us this time. Don’t make us go off on our own this time. We want you to come, can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it.”

He should argue. He should remind them that in the five years they’ve been riding off and leaving him at home, he’s built a life. He has a business and an apprentice and a little house that he likes. He’s not the wide-eyed child he once was, dreaming of adventure. But then, neither are Steve and Bucky, if they really do mean that they’re going to get to California and settle down.

“Darlin’?”

The next morning, Peter arrives at the smithy to find the backdoor locked and the fire cold. He frowns; it’s not like Tony to still be home at this hour. He turns on his heel and heads to Tony’s house. It’s as dark as the smithy is though it doesn’t look like anything is out of place.

Tony is nowhere to be seen. He wonders for an instant if Tony spent the night at Rhodey’s, as he sometimes does when it’s been too long between Steve and Bucky’s visits (though Peter isn’t supposed to know anything about the outlaws). He turns to leave, planning on heading over to Rhodey’s to ask if he’s seen Tony this morning, only to catch a glimpse of something on the kitchen table, glinting in the early morning sunlight pouring in from the door.

Curious, he wanders over to find a single gold coin—and a letter addressed to him. Peter immediately pockets the coin and then opens the letter. It’s written in Tony’s messy scrawl and he reads it eagerly, hoping it’ll tell him where Tony’s gone.

Peter,

I hope you’ve spotted this. The coin is for you. Under the bed, there’s a pouch full of more coins, but those are for Happy. They should be enough to drag Happy out of the quiet life to finish your apprenticeship. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but it was time to move on.

If anyone asks where I’ve gone, tell them I’ve run away to California.

Tony

#alle writes #alle answers #stuckony #if you like please reblog #nsfk #ish

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years ago

Text

Once Upon A Time

Long one shot under the cut. Every once in a while I obsess over Gelato (Roman x Neo) so...yeah...

Spoilers for RWBY: Roman Holiday (read it if you haven’t it’s so good!!)

He didn’t know how to treat it like anything but a heist.

Roman had definitely kissed a girl before, Bleu Berry at the orphanage when he was twelve, Crimsen Blank when he was fifteen, Verd Webster when he was seventeen, and then of course the off and on thing with Chameleon while he worked for Lil’ Miss.

But something about kissing Neo was special, something not to be messed up or done lightly like every other young woman he had kissed. He had to do it right.

It had seemed like a lifetime ago since Roman had planned a heist without Neo, and he found himself at a loss because of it. She really was the brains of their partnership...and the brawn…

Why was he even here?

Neo gave him a distinct look. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry.”

He was staring again, at her instead of the television. His cover story was that he stared into space when he was really tired.

Lie.

It was really him taking glances from under her nose, like pickpocketing a stranger’s wallet.

Steal.

Cheat.

Survive

Love.

When did that get in there?

Normally when they sat down together to watch the large, holographic screen that emitted from Neo’s facedown scroll -- Roman still hadn’t gotten his hands on a new scroll. He was perfectly able to steal one of course, especially since the Vale City Mall had the most pathetic security. He just kept straight up forgetting -- they were watching themselves on TV, laughing about the coverage of their recent ridiculous robbery and eating spicy hot wings from the Cuckoo Crazy Chicken Shack.

This was the first time that Roman was thinking about someone else while watching his own name flash across the screen.

He was catching feelings for her, and there was no doubt about it. He had been catching feelings ever since she saved his life in the alley where she first showed off her semblance, and then more and more as they spent time together.

Roman pinpointed the moment she showed him the fabulous outfit she had made for him as that oh moment that you read about in romance novels.

Not that he read. He accidentally stole a book once. Once. Neo was the reader. He could hardly summon the patience. When Neo gave him a book to read, he skipped to the end. Roman didn’t see the point in all the rest.

But for some reason with this conundrum, this real-life conundrum, he couldn’t bring himself to skip to the end, to just kiss her like it meant just as much as any other kiss.

He tried to plan it like a heist, watching Neo, memorizing her routine, figuring the best moment of the day to perform the act, but it didn’t work. Neo was too unpredictable. She wasn’t like a bank or a warehouse that had their security guards on the same schedule every day. Her chaos was part of her charm, always doing the unexpected, but Roman was absolutely lost as to when he should make his move, if at all. They had a good thing going here, after all, and for all he knew he could kiss her one second and be knocked out cold the next.

Roman felt a slap on his shoulder and he looked over.

What the hell?

Neo was mute yet Roman could hear her say it. She must have been doing airplane arms before she slapped him.

She pointed at him and then her right ear, her forehead creased with inquisition.

“No, I am not going deaf,” Roman said.

She must have been clapping and snapping to get his attention.

“I’m just thinking,” he explained, the words spilling out just as he realized he might have to come up with an answer for what he was thinking.

But Neo nodded in understanding. What a wonderful human being. She mimed sleep, resting her head on hands that touched palms.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. “Sleep. Good idea.”

Since his fancy condo was ambushed by Lil’ Miss, the two partners in crime had settled in an abandoned building that had gone from being a restaurant to a convenience store to a nail salon in the span of three months, before being abandoned for a year now. This street was a terrible place for an above-board business and even the Vale Government had let it rot, too small and inconsequential to be made into a factory or a warehouse of any sort.

Neo and Roman found it a week after the skirmish at the Vanille mansion. It was dilapidated and falling apart but it was only as broken as each of them were before they found each other. They quickly saw it as home.

So Roman stood up in order to head towards his bedroll in the corner. Neo watched him with a suspicious eye.

“Now that we’ve done as much damage as we could with the information from Mr. Vanille’s computer…”

Neo had already noticed that Roman never referred to the late Jimmy Vanille as her dad. Biologically he was her dad but he never treated her like a daughter.

“We may as well start on this dust business,” he continued. “Dust Till Dawn seems like the easiest target to me but I’d rather start bigger, something more fun.”

He turned around in case Neo had anything to add but she only stood up and paced towards him, using her semblance to change into Roman Torchwick himself. Roman looked at the mirrored version of himself as Neo made fun of the way he had been acting, staring with a blank expression, losing his train of thought. She then changed back into herself and shrugged her shoulders with her hands up as if to ask him why.

“I…I don’t know.”

He stammered. He rarely stammered.

She crossed her hands over her heart, then offered her hands to him. He knew what that meant.

Can I help?

She was always so thoughtful.

“It, umm…”

He had to be confident about this, he absolutely had to. He was Roman Torchwick, after all, the fabulous, the famous. He was fearless. He was clever and could get any girl he wanted, even the best of the best that stood in front of him. He could do this.

“Roman Torchwick this is the VPD,” a voice bellowed. Roman closed and opened his eyes.

“Why is it never you?” He asked Neo quietly, who was smirking. She stuck out her tongue.

“Come out with your hands up,” the loud voice continued. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Neo turned back into Roman.

“Meet you at Forever Fall?” He asked.

Neo nodded and ran off to get caught by the police. Roman pocketed Neo’s scroll and grabbed Melodic Cudger and Hush, the two hooks of which clinked in his grasp.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Torchwick,” he heard as he was halfway out the window in the back. Roman froze and listened. He dared to let his vanity doom him. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t do you justice.”

Roman turned his head.

What was that supposed to mean?

He could see the scene barely, through a gap in one of the distant boarded windows. Neo, in his image of course, stood with her hands in surrender.

“A volatile jokester,” the policeman continued, circling around Neo. “Always has something to remark. Doesn’t seem to want to shut up.” He stopped his spherical pacing and turned on his heel. “Do you know where I got these phrases?”

Neo shook her head.

“Vale Police Department records,” he said. “It’s how they describe you, and it’s how I know you aren’t really in front of me right now, are you Torchwick?”

He felt the panic in his heart, he tried to slip out the window but his forehead met a gun as it cocked with a click.

Their strategy had worked twice already, a disguised Neo getting arrested as Roman fled to a rendezvous location. Neo would use her semblance to escape captivity easily and they would have cheated the system. But it seems the police caught on.

Roman was almost impressed as he bumped shoulders with Neo in the back of the cop car, their weapons confiscated and Neo’s scroll slammed in half by the heel of one of the officers. Their hands were literally tied and Roman might have found a way to fight his way out of this but hey, he had never seen the interior of the Vale Police Department before. He figured it was time for a grand tour of the rathole’s rat hole.

“What’s that?” were the next words out of his mouth twenty minutes later. The VPD building was disappointing. Roman regretted wanting a look inside within a couple steps.

“Semblance inhibitor,” the officer replied, latching a second pair of handcuffs onto Neo’s wrists and only Neo’s wrists. “New tech from Atlas. It drains aura.”

Neo looked at Roman with a flash of panic in her eyes. She was always so confident in her chaos that it was a rare sight to see her scared.

“It’s okay,” he managed softly.

“We’re submitting her for questioning,” the officer continued, nearly interrupted as if Roman hadn’t said anything. “And we’re sending you back to Mistral. Lil’ Miss will be elated to learn that you are alive.”

They began to pull them away along two different hallways.

“No,” Roman said, struggling. “No!”

He lurched for Neo with all his might and caught her lips. That one moment of vulnerability where she tried to keep him with her cost him his better sense as he was very nearly yanked away, only seeing Neo’s face in shock.

“She’s mute, you idiots!” Neo heard Roman exclaim. “She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. You lay a hand on her and so help me gods I’ll--”

A door slammed shut. Neo didn’t get to hear that last bit.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trivia Vanille a.k.a. “Neopolitan”

Height: 4’10”

Age: 19

Prisoner ID Number: 827338

It was the first time in several years that she genuinely smiled in a picture, and it was a mugshot. Although she could see in her file the name that was dead to her, they referred to her verbally only as Neopolitan. The respect made Neo over the moon with happiness, made her almost forget her concern to get out of this without her semblance. The lock on her normal handcuffs were simple enough to pick once she was left alone but the one that shone blue and drained her energy even now would take a bit more creativity.

Roman Torchwick

Height: 5’11”

Age: 27

Prisoner ID Number: 827299

How many times did he have to tell them? He was six foot three. Six. Feet. Three. Inches. They never listened to him and it bothered him that it was on his permanent record that he didn’t measure up to at least six feet. For goodness sake, he was a celebrity. Any dunce on the street knows that he has orange hair, a white jacket, a grey scarf tied around his neck, and dashing emerald eyes. Everyone knows that he gave himself the birthday of October 31st (the mother who abandoned him at the orphanage didn’t care to specify the day that he had an excuse to steal cake) and that he was six foot three. It was on his mugshot and everything. He pleaded until he had two hands on the bars of his temporary holding cell. He was on his knees.

“Lights out.”

He sighed.

“Fine.”

He heard a foot stomp behind him. His cellmate was standing against the barred window that let in only streaks of moonlight, only fractions of nightlife and remnants of an already crumbled world.

He was a quite heavyset man and Roman’s heart skipped a beat. Roman was good in a fight but he wasn’t sure about these odds as he slowly stood up. This guy looked to have the strength of ten men and his arms were crossed.

Descending pink triangles dispelled the illusion and Roman choked a sigh of relief when the burly man turned into the small silhouette of Neo herself. Her hip cocked to the side and Roman knew, although he couldn’t see it, that she was smirking.

Roman rushed forth and hugged her, embraced her desperately like he never had before. He must have really thought they weren’t getting out of this one together.

“How?” he asked when they separated, his eyes searching her moonlit face.

Neo mimed picking a lock but then shook her head. She then mimed smashing her heel into an invisible pair of handcuffs between her two wrists and gave Roman a thumbs up.

“Good to know Atlas technology goes so fancy on design that brute force is the solution to breaking it. Would you like to pick the cell lock or shall I?”

Neo nodded and skipped to do just that, as if that were the easy part. Neo plucked pins from her mess of brown and pink hair and got to work kneeling before the lock and snaking her arms around the other side of the bars. Roman leaned on the bedpost and ignored his actual cellmate, the actual burly, wideset man who was knocked out on the bottom bunk and had a gnarly bruise the resembled Neo’s heeled boots across his face.

“About earlier, I…” Roman hesitated. “I guess I just wanted to apologize if I took you by surprise. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do, don’t get me wrong, I just…”

After several clicks, the door swung open and Neo turned around to face Roman, approaching him. Roman wondered if she had even heard him until she grasped his tied gray scarf and pulled him into her lips. It was all the answer Roman needed as they explored each other’s mouths, Neo slowly backing up and Roman chasing her, walking forward. When she let loose his lips they were out of the cell. She smiled. Roman was absolutely smitten.

She turned into a security guard, one they had seen earlier and she took his hand, Roman giggling under his breath as they fled from the Vale Police Department and into the wild night they had claimed as their own.

The memory became foggy, as it always did. It turned into a million other nights of chaos with him, all melding into a single lifetime that was now deceased. Trivia Vanille once died in the burning rubble of the Vanille Estate and left Neopolitan in her stead, but the moment Neo saw a blinding “X” over Roman’s aura gage a different Neopolitan had emerged. This one wasn’t languishing in her new sense of identity, wasn’t happy beyond belief in her friendship with this Torchwick guy. No, this Neopolitan was in pain, deep soulful, cutthroat, bleeding pain. When she threw a parasol and made her dad bleed she felt nothing. When her parents died because of the dust her dad harbored, she felt free. But when Roman died, she felt grief for the very first time, felt loss and lost in this world that didn’t understand her, would never understand her like he did.

Neo blinked her eyes open.

She liked when her dreams dipped into her memories up until the point where she woke up, where reality reminded her what was past and what was present.

It smelled like blood here. Neo had started to wonder if this is what it was like to be in the womb, gestating, trapped, waiting to be reborn in Salem’s image. The thought made Neo gag. This was the last place she wanted to be, seen as a mere chess piece in Salem’s game. She grew up as a chess piece that had been discarded, then used, then discarded again, like a dirty towel her parents kept forgetting about. What once liberated her was her newfound knowledge that her decisions could be her own but now she was CInder’s helper? beneficiary?

She would have to stomach it until Cinder upheld her end of the deal and got her to Ruby Rose.

Neo pushed against the bed she was assigned and sat up, although she would use the term bed extremely loosely. It was a hunk of red rock and the small room looked like the maw of a Grimm more than anything else. Neo would quantify it to a torture chamber if there wasn’t a small young man literally being tortured a few rooms over. She at least had it better off than him, but that didn’t say much.

Neo steadied her breath and closed her eyes. She thought of him, not the boy who screamed in anguish down the hallway but him. Roman. She thought of his brown, leather slip-on shoes and how much he hated the hassle of tying laces. She thought of his dark grey pants and how they collected around his ankles. She thought of his white coat and remembered tailoring it to his size, remembered thinking of the moment she would surprise him with it. She remembered his gloves and how it felt to be held by those hands. She remember his grey scarf and tried not to think about how it was on her neck instead of his. She tried to think of his piercing green eyes and his pumpkin orange hair, his bowler hat that had a red ribbon and a grey feather. She tried to remember his voice.

She opened her eyes and stood up slowly, pacing towards the illusion she had created, feeling tears sting in her eyes, feeling her heart beat with relief she tried to subdue.

“Neo,” he said softly.

She bawled, tears streaming down her face. She took the hat off her head and put it on her doll. She cupped his face with her hands and found herself missing having to go on her tippy toes like this.

Neo thought she could hold the illusion long enough to at least hug him, to at least derive some comfort from her memories and what her semblance was able to do with them. Yet, the illusion just as soon shattered, crumbling into shards of glass. Neo’s gasp was shaky as she looked down into her palms. Her breaths matched no rhythm and her soul bled as if she had lost him all over again. She looked up.

Cinder.

Her lip quivered. Neo couldn’t help it. Her brow furrowed in anger despite her sadness. The pink and the brown were like flames. And yet Cinder couldn’t even see her hate. No one could see anything of her.

“Salem wants everyone on the bridge,” Cinder said. “Welcome to reality.”

She walked off without a care and Neo fell to her knees, gathering the glass shards. She seethed with anger as she held them delicately in her hands. Her panting increased as balled her hands into fists, not caring in the slightest the sharp pain in her palms or the blood staining her white gloves.

She made a silent promise to Roman then, not to live for herself like she once did but to survive long enough to give Ruby Rose everything she deserved.

#gelato #neo x roman #roman holiday #rwby roman holiday #rwby #rwby fanfiction #roman torchwick #neopolitan #trivia vanille #neo my beloved #am I ec Myers yet?

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thatesqcrush · 4 years ago

Text

Retrouvaille

Rafael Barba x Reader. For @barbasimp - winner of Holiday Bingo. Prompt: Maybe a fic where Rafael and the reader were a thing before he left new york after the incident, but when he comes back he sees how close Carisi and the reader are and gets HELLA JEALOUS.

AN: This takes immediately during 22x04, “Sightless in a Savage Land.” Script found here. Coffee reference (above and in the fic - from 19x9, Gone Baby Gone.

AN2: Using “Sway” by The Kooks for VDay bingo. Lyrics denoted in bold.

AN3: Retrouvaille is a French word meaning rediscovery - the happiness of meeting or finding someone after a long separation.

Warnings: language & smut (p in v sex, implied cunnilingus). WC: 3.3K

****

To say you were anxious was an understatement; your leg bounced restlessly as you and your Captain sat in the diner. It had been unbearably cold and despite still wearing your parka and the hot cup of coffee in front of you, you could not warm up.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Olivia replied as she poured some milk into her coffee. She stirred the coffee with one hand and reached out to grab your hand from across with the other. “You don’t have to be here.”

“Nope, I am good.” You replied coolly, your lips emphasizing the ‘p’ sound. You looked out the window, watching the people mill about on the street. A blast of cold breezed through the diner. You looked past Olivia and you felt your stomach flop at the sight of the man approaching the booth. You stood and switched sides of your seat, choosing to sit next to Olivia.

The last time you saw Rafael Barba, he was worn and depressed, with tears lining his eyes as he stood in front of the courthouse. It was there he poured his love for you making your heart swell before he shattered it into a million pieces as he broke things off with you. You were a wreck after, to the point you needed to take time off to get your affairs back in order. The apartment you shared with him was no longer your safe space and no longer inhabitable. Rafael told you to keep the engagement ring. You took it off that night and left it in a lock box at your bank. Photos of you and him during happier times were taken down from your locker and tossed in the trash. Plans for the future - for a shared life together were gone, like a sandcastle being washed away by the sea.

Now Rafael appeared just as handsome as he did all those years ago. His hair was a more pronounced shade of salt and pepper and instead of being clean shaven, a beard graced his face. The infamous camel pea coat was swapped out for a grey one. Instead of a three piece bespoke suit under it, he wore dark jeans and a blue and pink checkered shirt. He turned to the counter and requested a coffee before he sat down in front of you.

“Barba.” You greeted, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Olivia!” Rafael replied brightly. He shrugged his coat off and looked at you. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again.”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to sip your coffee once more. Rafael shifted in his seat and looked at Olivia. “So--”

“Liv’s said you’ve been busy.” You spoke, cutting him off. “What have you been up to?”

You knew Rafael had kept in touch with Olivia. She had mentioned Rafael here and there in conversation with you and the squad.

You knew Mickey Davis deserved a good defense. You were, however, caught off guard when Olivia suggested that perhaps Rafael could help secure a deal. You didn’t even know he was back in New York.

“Consulting with the Innocence Project, defending voting rights on the ground. I've barely slept since the election ended.”

“Liv said once everything cleared up, you might consider doing defense work.” You continued.

“Her case or Fin’s?” Barba asked.

“The city settled one of Fin’s. Liv's still waiting on her day in the barrel, but that's not why we're here.

“It should be -- sorry.” Rafael shrugged, looking at Olivia.

Olivia gave Rafael a small smile. “Hypothetically, if we... arrested a defendant who was not innocent…”

“Decorated vet. Six tours in Afghanistan. Comes home to find his daughter raped by her foster father--” You interjected.

“And he shoots the guy point-blank range three times?” Rafael questioned. Both you and Olivia give him a pointed look. “Hypothetically.”

“So you're all caught up.” Olivia replied, now picking up her own cup.

“All right, hold on.” Rafael shook his head. “Did Carisi ask you to intervene on Davis' behalf?”

“Well, actually, Carisi doesn't know that we're here.” You murmured.

Rafael laughed. “Of course not. Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“We wanted to see if you would feel him out. And see if he would cut Mickey a deal.” Olivia continued.

“With Carisi's stomach? He won't have the stomach to take this to trial.” Rafael rolled his eyes. “This case is a dog.”

“Really? Some mentor you are. Not even believing in your protege.” You sneered.

Rafael cocked a brow at you while Liv put a hand on your shoulder, in an attempt to comfort you. You jerked your shoulder away from her, and stood. You tossed some bills onto the table.

“Sorry, Liv. I thought I could handle this. But I can’t. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You heard Liv call out your name as you stormed out of the diner, but not once did you look back.

Rafael looked at Liv, a frown on his face. “Honestly, I am surprised she didn’t leave sooner.”

***

You and Phoebe were watching through the double-mirror in the squadroom as Kat and Rollins interrogated a suspect. Phoebe watched as Carisi approached you and she tapped your shoulder, nodding towards him.

You looked over at Carisi and smiled. “How did voire dire go?”

Carisi sighed, crossing his arms. “It was the Rafael Barba show, charming and cherry-picking jurors for twelve straight hours.”

“He was always a dog with a bone.” You replied. “Walk with me to my desk. I am gonna order some Chinese.”

“I gotta know, Y/N. I saw Barba’s witness list, and he tracked down Ajay's other foster kids, ACS employees, VA shrinks. How big of a staff does he have?”

“I can’t say but know that I am not helping him out.” You hissed in a whisper.

Carisi huffed. “It's fine. Barba was here before me. He was your--”

You held up a hand. “No! That doesn't mean I'm more loyal to him than I am to you. You forget - he broke up with me. He wanted nothing to do with me. Why should I help him?”

Carisi’s ears turned pink and when saw the broken look on your face, he felt shitty. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “Dinners on you Mr. ADA and all will be forgiven.”

***

When Rafael entered the squadroom, it was late - he did not expect to see you. But there you were, Carisi perched on the corner of your desk, laughing. Seeing you and Carisi together like that - his jealousy flared and he wondered if there was something more than friendship going on. You plucked food out of the takeout container and offered Carisi a bite. You grabbed a napkin and reached up to Carisi’s face and you were about to say something when you spotted Rafael. Your laughter subsided and you smacked Carisi on the knee and pointed to Rafael. As he made way to your desk, you murmured something to Carisi and made a beeline to the locker room, dropping your food on your desk, causing it to spill a bit. The chopsticks fell to the ground with a clatter.

Rafael paused mid-stride and turned to follow, when Carisi approached him and blocked his path. “Barba, I don’t know why you’re here, but leave Y/N alone.”

“Is there a problem Carisi?”

Carisi jutted his jaw, clearly displeased. “Just leave Y/N alone - you hurt her. I know you never meant to. Don’t make it worse.”

“I came here to talk to her. That’s all.” Rafael huffed, before pushing past the young attorney to follow you, much to Carisi’s protests.

You sat on the bench in front of your locker, crying. You dropped your head in your hands, your body shaking. You heard the sound of footsteps and you stood up, wiping your eyes.

“Y/N.” Rafael’s voice was dark and deep, and hearing your name escape his lips sent shivers down your spine.

“Rafael! What are you doing here? Y’know you’re really not supposed to be back here!” You hissed, dabbing your eyes once more with your sleeves.

“I wanted to check in with you.”

“Why? You’re not my boyfriend anymore.” You replied, as you grabbed your belongings. You slammed your locker shut, the metal clanging sound echoed.

There was another sound of footsteps. Now it was Carisi who arrived. “Y/N, you okay?”

You looked at Carisi. ‘I’m fine. I’ll be out in just a bit.” Carisi nodded and made his way back out.

You adjusted the strap of your bag. “Move.”

“No, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” Rafael agreed, but not moving. You stepped to the side and Rafael followed your movement, blocking your way.

“Move.” You commanded. “Now.”

When he did not budge, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Say whatever you have to say. Get it out.”

“I just wanted to say I am sorry for everything. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Rafael replied.

“Suddenly you care? Please, I have plenty of people in my life who have taken an active role in that. I have gotten by just fine since you left.”

“Who? Carisi? Trading in one lawyer for another? You got a kink or something?" Rafael replied haughtily.

You snorted in derision. “You know what, you can go fuck right off.” You pushed past him and Rafael grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush to him. Rafael met your eyes, they were puffy and red from you crying.

“What are you--” You began, but Rafael crushed his lips against yours. You were initially stiff, but you relaxed into his embrace, allowing for the kiss to happen. You let out a soft moan and Rafael used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, by sliding his tongue into yours. Rafael wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck, dropping your purse to the ground.

“I love ya.” Rafael rumbled into your ear before dipping his head to your neckline, sucking a mark that you knew you would not be able to hide.

At his words, you pushed Rafael away. “What the fuck? You can’t just barge back into New York, into my life, say that you still love me and expect me to forgive you on the spot!” You were angry, there was a fire in your eyes that Rafael had been at the end of before, and he dropped his head, shamed. He took a seat on the bench and you followed suit, sitting next to him. “Me, the squad… that was always your M.O. - take whatever you want to take - to hurt the ones you love. You never thought about the consequences of your actions on others - nevermind baby Drew.”

“I know. I am an asshole. I know this is the wrong time and the wrong place but I had to tell you. I love you. And I regret the way I left things with you. And if you tell me you don’t love me - that you still don’t feel the same way - I’ll leave. After the case - you’ll never hear from me or see me again.”

Deep down you knew you still loved Rafael. You had always loved him. You didn’t initially understand why he did what he did with baby Drew or why he left, but with therapy, time, and deep talks with Liv, you understood. It didn’t mean you weren’t angry - you were - but you could see why Rafael felt he had no choice but to leave.

“I need your heart. I need your soul. And getting over you was the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do.” You replied, not answering his question. Your breath was still uneven from the tears you shed. You were worn and all you wanted to do was go home. You stood and slung your purse over your shoulder. “I am going home. Figure your shit out but don’t expect me to wait around.”

Carisi watched as you stormed away, with Rafael trailing behind you. He was going to say something but he noticed how Rafael allowed for the space between you and him to grow.

***

The following morning you were getting ready for the day as usual. Coffee was brewing, music was blasting, you were digging around for some clean clothes. There was a staccato knock on the door. You ignored it and found a shirt from the pile of clothes and sniffed it.

There was a second knock, this time louder than first. “I am coming!” You shouted as you tugged your shirt on. You huffed as you marched to the door before tripping over a stack of books that you were planning on donating to your neighborhood library.

You swore loudly and hobbled over to the door. Swinging it open, you all but shouted, “What do you wa--”

On the other side was Rafael. Holding a tray of coffee and a paper bag, that you presumed were some kind of sweets. “I know I am the last person you want to see. I don’t know what to do. Um… do you want some coffee?”

You wrinkled your nose, but you took a step forward and plucked the pastry bag from his grasp. You opened it and inhaled the fresh pastries; your stomach rumbled in response. You reached in and grabbed a honeybun.

“Come in.” You waved him in before taking a bite of the sticky pastry. Sorry it’s not more neat.”

Rafael made his way in. You entered your apartment, turning the lights on as you made your way in.

“It’s fine.” Rafael replied as he took in your new-to-him space. There were elements that reminded him of your time together, but it was more uniquely you than anything else.

“You said something yesterday that has stayed in my mind all night long.” Rafael sat down on your couch.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” You asked, taking a seat across from him. You reached over and plucked the two coffees from

“I need your heart. I need your soul. All this time away from you has made me realize that. I am sorry for hurting you - for even breaking things off the way I did.” He confessed. “But then I realized, I couldn’t do it. All this time… I still love you.”

You didn’t respond and Rafael felt his heart sink. His stomach knotted and he thought he would throw up.

You were quiet when you finally did speak. “I still love you too.”

Rafael looked at you, a huge grin on his face. He was overjoyed to hear your proclamation. “So now what?”

You furrowed your brows and an idea came to you, your face brightening. “I suppose we’re due for some makeup sex.”

Rafael blinked. “What?”

You stood up and tugged off your top. “Look, I don’t know about you - but it’s been awhile and I have needs. Are you complaining?”

Rafael stood, shrugging off his coat and also making quick removal of his clothes. “No, not at all. Just not what I expected to happen.”

You were down to your panties. “Just gotta make one call.” Rafael nodded, continuing to undress. You grabbed your phone and called Liv. “Hey, Liv - personal emergency, I won’t be able to make it - no everything will be fine - no you don’t need to come by. I’ll make it up. Thanks.”

You tossed your phone onto the couch and stretched out your hand. “Come on.”

Rafael groaned as he pounded into you with punctuated thrusts. You grabbed the sheets desperately as pleasure coursed your body. Being reunited with Rafael was almost too much - no one ever fucked you as well as he did - and no one ever made you feel complete as he did. Rafael pushed your knee higher, changing the angle. His cock hit you at a new angle and you cried out.

“Oh fuck, fuck, yes, just like that!” Your back arched slightly. He dropped his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as he slid his tongue into yours. Rafael quickened his pace and you snaked your hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

“Gonna… fuck… gonna come…” Rafael groaned.

“Come for me, give it to me.” You panted. “Need it. Need you.”

Rafael stiffened, groaning your name as he came, filling the condom you insisted he wear for the time being. You continued to rub with one hand as your orgasm approached, you used your other hand to grip his arm tightly. You threw your head back as you cried out Rafael’s name as your orgasm peaked and washed over you.

Rafael pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead as your body grew slack. He removed himself and rolled his body off yours. He removed the condom, tying it in a knot before disposing it into the trash bin at the foot of your bed. Rafael rejoined you in the bed and you curled into his embrace.

You stroked his chest softly, running the tips of your fingers through his chest hair. “We have a lot to work on.”

Rafael grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I know, hermosa.”

You looked up at him. “For us to work - it’s going to take time. We have a lot to work on - a lot to unpack.”

“As long as it takes. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You propped yourself up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, since we have so much time ahead of us now… why don’t we make up for lost time?”

Rafael arched his brow and you squealed as he pulled you up on top of him.He kissed you deeply and rolled you onto your back once more. He began to press kisses along your body, shimmying down.

He got to the apex of your thighs and spread your legs. You met his eyes and he winked before dropping his mouth to you again.

FIN.

***

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#rafael barba smut #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x you #thatesqcrushvdaybingo

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pleasereadmeok · 3 years ago

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Can you help me please? I'm sure you had an English translation of Matthew's interview with Style Italia (2017?) on your blog however I can't find it. Can you help? Thank you. A Goode fan x

Hi Anon - yes of course. This one right? ⬇️

It's such a great interview with some lovely personal details from Matthew. @di-elle kindly did a translation for the matthew-goode.net press archive a few years ago so that follows ⬇️. Enjoy. : -

Matthew Goode is one of the most recognizable British actors of his generation. 38 years old, tall, slender, handsome, with a face composed of classic proportions and precise features that lends itself to both modern settings and period dramas.A look that’s allowed him to dive immediately into the world of Match Point, Brideshead Revisited, The Imitation Game, and A Single Man. In the last season of Downton Abbey, he was one of the most beloved characters as Lady Mary’s husband, a role that brought him popularity with the television audience. Now he appears with Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard in Allied.Skill,talent, determination and a bit of luck (essential in this business) have made Goode a sought-after and versatile actor, without affecting his overwhelming pleasantness and playfulness onset and off that serve as useful talents as well.In the penthouse of the London hotel where he is being photographed, he strokes the oval marble bathtub sitting in the middle of the room (‘So cool!’), gets enthusiastic by touching the clothes, the collars of the shirts, and the wool of the jackets.

Do you like design?I love it, even if it is my wife who has the eye for it.In front of the mirror, in the barber’s and makeup artist’s hands, he is a bundle of energy. He is worried about Brexit (‘What’s happened? Where are we going?’) but happy to be able to buy a house. He is a little anxious, too, about the last phone call from his bank: ‘Being an actor means living day by day. Banks don’t like it.’

Psychologically what does it entail?During dry spells you can lose confidence and believe that you will never work again. It’s not easy.

However you are not lacking jobs. How was working on Allied?Movies are strange beasts. You come, you spend two days on the set, you shoot your own scenes and you go. Despite this it was electrifying as it can be a film of these proportions. There was an atmosphere of great professionalism and harmony. Brad Pitt is a great person. He welcomed me fondly, as did Marion Cotillard. I had already met them both, but they are always like that, even with those they don’t know.

Is variety important to you?It’s the essence of life, isn’t it? At the end the face and the voice are always those and if you specialize in a genre, it’s not easy to come out of it. It’s hard for me to resist period movies, it’s a great temptation. Costumes and interiors have a very strong charm.

Your name was made for the Bond role…I’ve sabotaged myself. Barbara Broccoli (the film producer) called me and I didn’t realize it was an audition. I thought it was just a chat. She asked me what I thought of Bond. I was honest , I told her that the way it is today doesn’t work. They need to scale down the budget, and make the character more complicated, go back to the origin from the books: a dark, difficult, incomprehensible man. At the end she said goodbye and I didn’t hear from her again. Maybe sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut.

Do you like going to movies?There’s a little bit of jealousy to overcome but generally yes. I’d like to see Tom Ford’s new movie, Nocturnal Animals. He is a genius, he has an eye like no other. A Single Man should have won more awards. Ford was born as a stylist but he is a real artist.

Are you not tempted to move to the USA?I have three children and I want them to grow up here. I don’t like to go too far away. I told my agent I don’t want to work in the US for a year.

Is Matthew Goode a good father?It depends on the days. The noise stresses me. If there are two children crying, or screaming, I panic. In those cases, my wife takes care of it.

What do you do at home?I cook. It’s less tiring than playing with a one-year-old child… I can do a little of everything: my father taught me the first recipes when I was about to start university. Over the years I have made a leap in quality, from scrambled eggs to stews.

Your best recipe?Beef and Guinness stew. Two or three parsnips, a couple of carrots, two onions, some mushrooms. Two pounds of meat, a little flour. Mix it up, then slap it in the pot. Salt, pepper, some herbs and some beer. I love it. You put it on, you go get the kids from school, and when you come back, the house smells of dinner.

The role you’ve always wanted.Sherlock Holmes. Damn it, Benedict Cumberbatch has stolen it from me! Joking aside, it’s Jeffrey Bernard in the comedy Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell, by Keith Waterhouse. Many years ago I saw Peter O’Toole in it and I’ve never forgotten. But you need to be 50 or 60 years old for it, so I’ll have to wait a little longer.

Did you want to be an actor as a child?My mother would say yes. Actually I discovered my path later in life. For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist, because my father was a geologist. One day one of my university mates went to audition for an acting school and I said: Why not, I should try it too. Finding an agent was a stroke of luck. Then the fight for survival began. It’s a slow and complicated road.

From the outside you look like someone who made it.(It may look that way) now, but like with everything when you start you are at the first step, you look up and say: I’ll never get there.

What’s your secret to overcome difficult moments?I have stopped watching the films I make. This has helped me a lot. You can’t control how they cut and edit your character. You can only control the experience, what you give and what gives to you. The result is almost insignificant. After a few years it can be fun watching yourself because you seem very young.

Do you practice sport a lot?I go to the gym in the morning, to start the day well. Twice a week I go out for lunch with my wife: and since I like to eat, and occasionally even drink, the gym is imperative. I also play golf but it takes time, it’s not an activity that fits well with a big family.

Your ideal holiday?I have fond memories of my childhood, camping with my father, the fishing rod, the green. I’d like to take my children. My wife resists for now.

What do you read?I hate to admit it, but I read very little. By the time I go to bed, I’m too tired.

A luxury?We’re planning how to sort out the house. If I could afford it I’d buy one of those enormous american washing machines with a tumble dryer. It’s not what you’d expect from a star, is it?

#matthew goode #asks #press archive 2017 #a discovery of witches #adow #just in case adow fans are interested

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maybe-your-left · 4 years ago

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Skiing day two with Dr Ren and Gucci please 😘

Skiing - Part 2 Gucci & Dr. Ren M.D.

TW: INFIDELITY (only Gucci)

You barely slept, unable to swallow the guilt that had settled. You slept with a married man, who had you meet him in an extra room. Separate from his family, so he could fuck some random woman he met.

It felt disgusting, knowing you were that random woman.

What felt even worse, was how his touch lingered. His fingertips tracing every line of your skin, plush lips tasting every inch. Tongue laving at your nipples while you cried, legs open wide for his cock.

Maurizio made you cum three times, fucked you on the bed, on the couch, bent over by the fire. Digging his hands into your hair, cracking your back so you would arch for him.

Cumming deep inside your cunt, moaning when he saw it dribble down the back of your thighs. A thick finger swiping it up, to bring it back where it belonged.

No amount of hot water could scrub the shame, the tingle of your skin from his words. How beautiful you were, how he loved your cunt, ‘such a wonderful little dove’, ‘you taste of heaven’.

Wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumb, a soft kiss as you walked out. You looked back from down the hall, seeing him leave moments later. Hair put together, glasses back on, barely looking like he spent the past hour fucking someone.

Must be a normal thing.

———

“Holy shit,” you groaned, legs sore from more than skiing. Barely able to get dressed for another day, you debated just staying in the lounge. But you spent so much to be here, and all your friends were going.

You didn’t want to be alone, in case Maurizio decided to see you. You promised yourself you would t indulge him again, it was wrong. Even though it felt so right, so delicious.

Maybe one kiss wouldn’t hurt.

“Come on, let’s go get food,” your friends yelled, filing out the doors to the halls. Ski suits dangling around your waists, you carried your boots under one arm. Hooking arms with one of your companions, he knew you were having trouble walking.

Didn’t know why, but he was helping you.

Making you laugh, smile, feel so much better. You had almost forgotten about your shame until you made it to the lounge. Making full eye contact with Maurizio, who looked just as shocked.

You stalled for a moment, gasping at him. On his arm was a child, maybe 4-5 in age. Clinging to her father, and there standing next to him was the woman on the slopes. Who was wearing all red, now dressed in even finer clothes.

Maurizio smirked at you, seeming to not care that he was with a child and wife. “Trouble on the slopes?”

You opened your mouth, shocked he even spoke to you. Weren’t you supposed to keep things like this under wraps? Next to you, your friend piped up, “She must’ve fallen yesterday. You know how it is, women are clumsy.”

“Real women aren’t,” the woman sniped, snatching Maurizios free arm and dragging him away. You glared after her, wounded by her calling you a fake woman. Who did she think she was?

“She seemed high strung.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “I’m sure she’s a bundle of joy.”

———

You spent the rest of the day with no incident, didn’t see Maurizio or his frigid bitch of a wife on the slopes. Nor did you see his adorable daughter, instead you could focus on the landscapes.

The sloping mountains, snow banks, pine trees, fresh air, little tracks from animals burrowing for the winter. You were in awe, it really was a luxury. Something you wish you had more of, like Maurizio said.

You deserved it all.

Dinner was beautiful again, all of you mourning the end of your trip. Knowing that tomorrow you’d have to drive back down the mountain. To head to your small apartments in the bustling city of Milan.

You excused yourself from the group, needing to use the powder room. Not paying attention to your surroundings, leaving you alone on the walk down the dimly lit halls.

A whistle drew your attention, spinning around to see the culprit. Much to your surprise, Maurizio was walking down the hall. Hands stuffed in his pockets, a lush black turtleneck, some tight pants. Even under the darkness you could see his smirk, blue eyes devouring your form.

“Dove, you’ve been avoiding me.”

You scoffed, “I wonder why?”

He shrugged, now standing directly in front of you. The smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, the cut of his shirt showing his impressive frame. Lowering your defenses, “Why did you have to be married?”

“That’s not important.”

“Your wife is here,” you hissed, “She knows you did something!”

“I’m sure she does,” he brushed a stray hair from your face. Cupping your with a warm palm, “It wouldn’t be the first time, but you’re the first one I’ve come back to sweet dove.”

“Oh.”

“Shall we go for a walk,” he held his arm for you to take, “That way we can discuss our future.”

———

You don’t know how it happened, but you ended up in his bed again.

Panting and wailing under him, ankles on his strong shoulders. Cunt filled repeatedly by his cock, babbling how beautiful you were. So perfect, fit so well with him. His sweet dove, no one else could have you now.

He filled you with his cum over and over, well into the early morning. Telling you his wife didn’t matter, not when he had you. She could be handled tomorrow, bought off with another trip, maybe another child.

Maurizio walked out with you, telling you how wonderful you were. You assumed that would be it, you were his holiday romp. Never to be seen again, that was better to keep it how it was.

In the past.

You slept soundly on the drive home, smiling happily when you were dropped off. Grabbing your bags from the car, they felt heavier than before. But you were tired, from being thrown around in every position Maurizio wanted you in.

Throwing your bags on the ground of your apartment, you walked to the answering machine. A few messages, you clicked yes to listen.

Hello, this is Collette from Mr. Maurizio Gucci’s office. He was hoping to hear from you, there’s a package being sent to your residence that he wanted to discuss. Here’s his direct line for your convenience. Have a nice rest of your day!

You almost pushed Belle down the mountain, face flooded with embarrassment. Of course, your daughter heard you begging to be fucked. And of course, it had to be when you called her dad, Daddy. Because you have daddy issues, hence the husband who is 14 years your senior.

Its fine.

This is fine.

“Hey mom,” Belle stood with you at the base of the mountain, watching Ren and Odin play in the snow. “Do you want to hear my new ringtone?”

“Sure.”

“I think you’re gonna love it,” she smiled, “It’s for you and dad.”

She held it to your ear, “Fuck my ass Daddy!”

You snatched her phone, furiously locking it to stop the sound of you wailing loud enough to hear through the WALLS. Completely ignoring how she recorded her dad growling afterwards, you ran off towards Ren.

Belle squealing when you took off, “Mom! Give it back!”

“No!”

“MOM!”

“Kylo!”

Ren looked over his shoulder, frowning when he saw you running over the snow. Your hand extending Belles phone as high as you could hold it. Even though Belle was taller than you (thanks Kylo!), a hand square on her chest to hold her off like a rabid dog.

“What the fuck is going on over there?”

Belle screamed, probably alerting the resort security.

“Mom took my phone!”

“Were you being a shit?”

You wiggled away from Belle, throwing her phone as hard as you could towards Ren. She paled when it slid to his knees, Ren was holding Odin. Looking down at it with little interest, even though his daughter now had you pinned to the cold snow.

She cackled when she got you down, sitting on your back. “Dad, can I have my phone back?” You squirmed under her, jesus. What were you feeding her? Is she always going to be this strong? Is it just in the Ren genes, would Odin overpower you??

You heard snow boots coming over, accepting your fate. Maybe the cold snow would cool the heat rising in your cheeks, because Belle was absolutely going to show her dad what she heard. And he would probably laugh and say something gross.

Odins little body fall over yours, mimicking Belle. You heard your back crack, groaning under their weight. Now you would be hurt, emotionally and physically, all the way in Italy. With your demon children and Satan himself.

“Why are you tackling your mother?”

“Because she’s a whore.”

Ren growled, “Don’t call her that! Who do you think you are?”

Belle scoffed, “You call her that all the time! You just don’t think I can hear it!”

“Kylo,” you whined, “Get them off me please.”

The children stood, soon you were lifted by your husband. Looking down at you concerned, brow furrowed as he brushed snow off you. “Belle, apologize to your mother.”

She rolled her eyes, “You guys should be apologizing to me.”

Ren scoffed, “What is going on with you? We’re on vacation, do I need to send you home to go be with your birth mother?”

You grabbed the phone from Ren, stuffing it in your breast pocket so neither of them had it. “I need a drink,” you push past the stalemate. waving kisses to your son who was holding Rens hand.

———

Belle hounded you all evening for her phone, but you kept it tucked away. Staying on Rens arm the entire night, at dinner in the lounge you were half on his lap. Your children sitting across from you, Odin snoring by the fire pit after having a s’more.

You clung to Ren, kissing behind his ear while the flames flickered out. He chuckled at you, “What’s wrong, Love?”

“Nothing,” you trailed a finger up his arm, “I’m just tired.”

“Let’s get them to bed,” he kissed your forehead, standing up without you. Ren ushered Belle out of her chair, even though she was half asleep too. You listened to her groan, “I’ll carry Odin, you can carry her.”

You both dragged the children up to the rooms, Belle was dead weight in her fathers arms. Carrying her like she was nothing, while you struggled to hold your 60 pound baby.

Ren carried Belle in carefully, setting her on the bed, you watched him with tears eyes as he laid her. Like she was five all over again, kissing her forehead. You tucked in Odin in the same fashion, swapping with Ren so you could love on your daughter.

It was hard to believe she wasn’t yours, you’d spent so much time with her. Belle was your baby, before you had a real baby. Defending her from Callie, wanting to share moments with her. Fighting to be a mother figure in her eyes, and it paid off.

“Come to bed, love.”

You let Ren carry you away, throwing you on your large bed.

He pulled off his clothes, “So, why did Belle attack you earlier?”

You laughed, curling into the sheets, still fully dressed. Ren grumbled at that, tugging your clothes off as your tried to burrow.

“Lovely,” he cooed, burying his face into your bare breasts. “Why did Belle upset you today?”

You shushed him, letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Why’d we get an attached room?”

———

i fucking love gucci. also DIDNT PROOFREAD

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads s @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @mrs-zimmerman @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust t @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless

#tw: infedelity #adam driver #kylo ren #adamdriver #maurizio gucci #house of gucci #doctor ren #doctor kylo ren #my writing v #ask fridays #3.12.2021

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