#also he said fag in front of me so like . yeah he’s all grown up now haha

[thursdayg1rl]

seeing my friend was really nice :)

[smuggsy]

Can I have a "i sleep better in your bed" for flyboys please 🥺

All right, I know those are supposed to be comfort prompts but I didn’t quite get there. Just a helpless pining Collins for you, my friend.

Collins doesn't fall into unhealthy habits. He thinks it must have something to do with him coming from a very small village, born into an even smaller family. An early bird that took care of the farm in the wee hours of the morning when everyone else enjoyed an hour or two of extra sleep.

A fag or two a day? That's alright, it's only common in the ranks; but he's never been one for alcohol. It would serve a purpose, he thinks, as he turns on his bed for the third time that minute.

Maybe if he knocked down a pint or two he'd get a wink of sleep on this godforsaken place. Which is anything but forsaken, of course. Quite the opposite. They've been sent out to an airfield in Croydon and it's beaming with personnel and new recruits being noisy and chipper, the word "inexperienced" written all over their faces.

Collins knows that's about to change, and he turns once again on his bed as that intruding thought downs on him at 2 in the morning. They've been transferred here for a reason and he reckons any day now the Luftwaffe will give those cheerful new lads a reason to finally get in the air and they will soon have no extra energy to burn off, no impromptu football matches to organize, no more bets to make on their card games.

At that, he finally sits up on his bed and weights his chances. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this again. It was just a one-night thing, and he didn't even ask for permission to go and use someone else's bed.

(Although, to be fair, Farrier wasn't there to be asked. If he'd been, he'd have probably kicked him back to his own bed with a gruffly grunt.)

There is no infestation of ants round this side of the room tonight, so tonight he's got no real reason to scoot over to the opposite bed and lay down on it, the same thin and overly-soft army-issued mattress underneath but feeling much more comfortable.

Because it smells like Farrier.

Fuck it. He's always up before anyone else and Farrier won't be here till six.

And he's going to be awful tired for his early flight tomorrow morning if he doesn't get a proper four hours of shut-eye.

Farrier's not here.

What Farrier doesn't know won't hurt him.

So, in the dead of night, with about twenty-five other pilots sound asleep, he tiptoes over and gets under the covers with a sigh, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes shutting close with easiness at the familiar smell.

Collins doesn't really have any unhealthy habits.

But this may just be becoming one.

* * *

He's over by the runway when Farrier meets him at eight. His hair is wet and he looks very clean, and Collins actually hears him approaching before he sees him. That same cadence to his footsteps, careless and easy-going yet firmly getting closer.

"Morning," Farrier says, and Jenkins nods his way. Collins finishes fastening up his lifejacket and turns around to greet him, smell of coffee filling the air.

And also the smell of shampoo.

"'Elo," he says with a smile, avoiding Farrier's intent stare because it feels weird, because he really needs to stop using his bed every night when he can't sleep, because it's a violation of his privacy and it's wrong and it's becoming a thing, "good night?"

"Uneventful," Farrier shrugs and he comes closer to stand next to him with his cup of coffee, his free hand buried deep inside the front pocket of his navy-blue trousers, "you'll have a quiet day as well, I reckon."

"I hope not," Jenkins blurts out, turning around and heading for his own Spitfire at seeing their Squadron Leader hopping up, mumbling something about Jerries and the weather forecast.

Collins turns to Farrier with an awkward smile, feeling immensely inadequate standing next to him and smelling that same scent from up close. That's what his pillowcase smells like.

Stop it.

He clears his throat and checks his lifejacket's in place again, unaware of how twitchy he's behaving. Unaware of Farrier following his every nervous movement with an almost-smirk on his face.

"See ya then," he says in lieu of a goodbye, but when he takes a step forward Farrier catches his arm and stops him from leaving.

Collins turns around with sweat on his brow.

"What's up with you?"

"What? Nothing - stomachache. Milk was sour, I think. Good thing yer havin’ coffee," he rants, gesturing towards the half-empty cup Farrier's holding, ignoring the way his ex wing-mate is frowning at him like he's grown a second head, "I need to go."

Farrier's still got a hold of him and he frowns unapprovingly for a couple more seconds before stepping back. Collins makes a run for the cockpit and keeps his eyes forward until they take off.

They're not even out for sixty minutes before they must head back, storm looming over London and air so wet and hot they all make a beeline for the showers soon as they step back on land.

Collins keeps himself busy. He replies to a letter, he plays some poker, he sits down by Hugh when he picks up his guitar and starts singing away the afternoon.

And one too many times he finds Farrier looking at him from afar.

Just looking. Pondering. Not approaching.

He must know he's avoiding him, Collins thinks, and he feels like an idiot. Like a jittery teenager every time he glances around to find Farrier smiling at something his wingmates say but meeting his gaze immediately when he finds him looking.

The sky falling outside doesn't help a single bit.

There's nowhere to go.

When Farrier approaches him, like he'd been waiting for Jenkins to go away to come and chat, Collins runs a hand over his eyes and nods towards him, tired of the idleness and tired of his very useless infatuation.

Maybe he should stop turning down invitations from pretty birds at the pub and have some fun. Fuck the image of Farrier away from his brain, have his very musky scent erased from his memory and replaced by some soft flowery perfume.

"Alright?" Farrier greets.

Collins answers with a sigh and lights up a fag.

"Fuckin' bored," he says, with the cigarette in between his lips and leaning against the window overlooking the runway. It's immensely dark outside, save for one or two bolts of lightning flashing prettily in the distance.

Farrier lets out a laugh next to him.

"You sound like the boys," he comes round to block Collins' view and his eyes glitter with mischief as he takes a bite of his very red apple, "you should know better. Enjoy a quiet day for once."

He offers him the apple as he chews, and Collins shakes his head and can't help but smile at his air of playfulness, the awkward exchange of looks feeling distant and utterly silly.

This is Farrier.

They've been together since they got their wings.

Just his mate.

Nothing else.

"Yeah, well," Collins takes a deep draw and when he talks next, the smoke goes in Farrier's direction, "maybe they're growing on me."

"Yeah," Farrier says, half-heartedly like his mind's someplace else, and he just stares.

From then on, it starts getting awkward again and Collins shifts his weight from foot to foot, at a loss for words and feeling like he's being read like an open book.

It feels like ages before Farrier gestures towards him with the half-eaten apple again and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You have a very nice cologne, don't think I ever said."

Collins almost chokes.

But it's just smoke in his throat so he simply plays it off as a cough.

"Quite strong," Farrier continues; Collins feels like his soul is leaving his body, like he's imploding, like he's about to pass out, "but nice."

He looks around, maybe someone nearby will come and drag him out of this situation, out of this conversation, is Jenkins gone off already?

"My bedsheets stink of it."

Oh fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Dear me, don't look so mortified!" Farrier laughs, he laughs, "I don't mind, but someone will notice, and they'll start talkin'."

Oh fuck, we are having this conversation.

"Shite, look - sorry, I'm sorry, I just, it's - I dunno," yes you do, you do know, you bleedin' idiot, "I sleep better in yer bed, I won' do it again."

"Do it all you want.”

And Collins stops himself from blurting out any more apologies at that, frozen in place whereas Farrier looks positively amused by the whole affair.

The fact that he's taking it so lightly is almost insulting.

"You wha'?" Collins blinks stupidly.

Farrier checks that no-one else is within earshot and shifts the slightest bit closer to him. Just a silent and quick look around that sends off alarms in Collins' brain.

The Scot swallows through a very dry throat and he most definitely doesn't look down at Farrier's throat when he swallows another piece of his apple, that very sweet apple he can smell from where he's standing.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me lately? Acting all weird because you've been sleeping in my bed?"

Collins makes a face. Farrier laughs again, the bastard.

"God, don't say it like that, ye make it sound-"

"What? I make it sound what?"

Collins can't make a sound. He can only look at Farrier, with his hazelnut twinkling eyes staring right into his soul, the brightest of lightning making his pupils go small for half a second, those juicy lips that would most definitely taste of fruit, the collar of his shirt buttoned-down, the suspenders firmly in place on top of both wide shoulders and BANG!

The loudest and closest thunder so far sinks the whole hall into deep darkness, only the very dim light from cigarette tips visible here and there. A collective wave of groans and colourful swearwords can be heard all throughout.

Collins jumps in his place at the sudden deafening sound, and instantly two strong arms come to grab each side of his shoulders to prevent him from moving, and he can't see a thing but he can feel, he can feel Farrier's fingers grabbing insistently at the fabric around his biceps and he can feel him suddenly leaning closer.

And he can feel him kiss him too.

Deep and needy and just a flash.

Like that lightning.

So fast and unpredictable it leaves him heaving for breath and needing to brace himself against the thick window glass. It leaves him tasting apple.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) And the dreams that you dream of   DC COMICS

A03

It’s a weight off his shoulders.

Alan had known for a long time that his dirty little secret was dragging him down, had known that it was a vice around his heart and a collar around his neck that had stopped him from ever really being happy with himself. He’d lived his life hiding, and keeping secrets; for his own safety at first, and out of fear of change afterwards once it started becoming more mainstream. Back when he was a lad, being caught with another boy was as good as a death sentence - he’d heard so many stories of other kids and men like him being found in alleyways, of them being attacked and beating out in the open and still no one cared enough to help.

It was the norm, and Alan had tried to conform.

Alan Scott had known since grade school that he wasn’t normal, that he wasn’t like the other boys. Boys who would talk about how pretty Betty Noris was, or the shape of Dorothy’s assets. Instead, Alan had found his gaze lingering on the other boys during gym class, or the look of the bare chests of the men who would help his Ma move furniture. He’d known for a long time that it was dangerous, had known even before Jimmy and Robbie from the next block down had caught him and their kid brother behind the fish market. They had beaten Alan black and blue, had spit on him while he’d laid on the dirty ground and pulled Johnny away from him, promising worse if they ever saw him sniffing around their brother again, that they wouldn’t tell anyone this time that Alan Scott was a fag because it would drag their family’s good name down with him.

Johnny hadn’t been able to meet his eyes again after that, had sat on the opposite end of the classroom and kept to himself even more than he already had in the first place, and Alan had locked that part of himself away. He had hardened himself to everything around him, had become the kind of man expected of him.

But he hadn’t been fully happy. Not with himself, and not with his life.

Becoming Green Lantern had helped, it gave him a meaning that he hadn’t known he was missing. He made friends and comrades that would last him for decades afterwards, friends who knew and cared for him, no matter what Alan was. None of them were normal, none of them fit into the society of their time, for whatever reason. They were all freaks and outsiders, abominations who had all found themselves brought together by a shared desire for justice in an unfair world.

The Justice Society.

As Green Lantern, Alan could save people, could help people. Could slowly let out parts of himself that he had kept locked away for so long, ever since he was scrawny and twelve, and kissing Johnny Moore in a hidden part of the market. He could never  say what he was out loud, not fully, not without the words that he wouldn’t learn until much later in life, when more and more people like him started coming out of the shadows to live their lives openly and make their voices heard. He made friends and friends, people who didn’t care that Alan wasn’t right, because none of them really were either.

What was looking a little too long at men to aliens and immortals after all?

What was it to a man that could run faster than sound? A man who liked men and women equally and kept it hidden just as Alan did?

The Justice Society gave him Jay, and despite him being a raging ass, it also gave him unconditional love.

The Justice Society didn’t last forever, but the connections he made did.

Never before Alan had called what he had with Jay more than friendship, but they both knew it was more than that. Friends didn’t have the same sort of relationship Alan had with Jay, friends didn’t fall in love with each other and stay in love for as long as they had. Friends didn’t sleep with a married man, even with their partner’s wife’s permission. Joan was a lovely, wonderful woman, who deserved the world, and by god, Alan knows that Jay was willing to give it to her if she asked. The Garricks would never have blood children, not without the lack of trying, but Alan knows they considered the new generations of speedsters their own, just as they considered Alan’s children family.

Unlike Jay, Alan hadn’t been able to settle down. He hadn’t been able to keep up the facade he had built up, even if he had tried. He had loved Rose and Molly, had adored them, but not in the ways that they deserved. He had grieved Rose when she’d died, he had let Molly go so that she could find happiness, and he had kept going, kept hiding.

But hiding had taken its toll.

He has adult children now. Children with lives of their own. He’s old, and getting older, and the world is changing. It’s not perfect, he knows, but it’s so much better than the one he had grown up in. There’s still people like Jimmy and Robbie Moore out there hurting people like him, but this generation refuses to keep quiet or hidden. Alan is damn proud of them; he may wear a mask, but those activists? The ones who stood up and made themselves heard over the years and the ingrained belief that they were lesser because of how they were born or who they loved? Who refused to stay down despite everyone telling them to?

They’re the real damn heroes.

Alan wishes he was half as brave as them.

As it stands, he’s making the truth known. He’s coming clean, and it feels like the rush of adrenaline that comes with flying, that swoop in his stomach as his feet leave the ground. Telling Jen and Todd the truth had felt so,  so wrong, but so right at the same time. He’s an old man now; he’d been lying and hiding since before they had been born, and still they didn’t care. They loved him regardless of it.

They had called him brave.

Alan doesn’t feel very brave, not after all these years, but he does feel free.

It’s after telling his kids that Alan finds himself Keystone City, in front of a familiar little townhouse that Alan is pretty sure he knows better than his own apartment. He lets himself in like he always does, and wanders in, mind feeling like it’s moving as fast as Jay runs.

“Alan?” Jay is in the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel and looking soft and domestic, dressed down in slacks and a t-shirt he remembers Barry getting him as a gag on Father’s Day. He’s as beautiful as the day Alan had first met him. His hair is whiter, sure, and his face more lined, but his blue eyes are as kind and warm as ever, and standing in the golden light of the sunset, Alan wants to sweep him into his arms and kiss him.

God - Alan is getting sentimental in his old age.

Propping a hip against the counter, Jay folds the towel over his shoulder, studying him with a gentle sort of care that comes easily to the speedster, and Alan finds his worries melting away. “Everything alright?”

“I told Jen and Todd.” Alan blurts out before he can stop himself. Jay makes it so easy, to tell him everything, to bear his soul and put his heart in his hands. He knows that Jay would protect it, just as he protects everything else. He’d treat his heart with gentle love and sweet care that Alan still doesn’t know if he deserves to have. “I told them. About me.” His eyes slide away from Jay’s, a habit developed after years of not telling anyone.

After years of hiding.

“Alan.” Jay’s voice, deep and kind with the smooth Midwestern drawl Alan had first fallen in love with as a young man, draws him back. It grounds him in ways that Alan can’t describe. “I’m proud of you.”

“I love you.” He whispers, like a promise, and it’s loud in the bubble of space-time that is Alan-and-Jay. He’s never said it before, not out loud. He had been too scared to let it pass his lips or form on his tongue. Jay had been so much more patient than Alan ever deserved, letting him lead him on for as long as he had.

He can see the surprised delight in Jay’s eyes, the stunned part of his lips, and Alan wishes he could have been brave enough to say it years ago.

“I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years.” His voice is louder now, but it still shakes, and if possible, everything about Jay gets softer.

“I love you too.” The speedster says without hesitation, and Alan steps closer, into the bubble of his space, feeling the sparks of static electricity dance across his skin as it always does this close to Jay.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes reverently, and Jay laughs faintly, gently taking his face in his hands, warm skin against his jaw.

“Do you really need to ask?” Jay teases, and Alan’s lips quirk.

“Yeah.” He says, like a sap, “I like it when you say yes.”

Jay’s blue eyes sparkle. “Well then,” he says with good humour, “my answer will always be yes, Alan.”

Like a fish on a line, Alan is reeled in, letting Jay pull him closer and tilt his head, before he presses their lips together.

[addictofsupernatural]

Emotions (pt. 3)

Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: Billy helps y/n make a list of what she needs to do and learn in her life.

Word Count: 2305

Chapter 1 • Series Masterlist • Chapter 4

"So what are we gonna do next?"

"I don't know. There's a lot of things that I've never done." You said. You both decided that he would come over tomorrow. After the call ended you buried your face in a pillow from excitement. Your face was hot and you couldn't stop smiling. You don't fully understand this feeling; it's one that you've never had before, but you love it.

The next day you heard a knock on the door and practically flew to it. You opened it with a big smile on your face, but your smile quickly faded as you saw a bruise on Billy's jawline. You reached for it, Billy looking down and watching you. "Billy, are you okay?"

He put his hand over yours as you gently grazed the purple patch of skin. "Course doll. Can I come in?"

You sadly smiled and nodded, although not too convinced that Billy was okay. He came in and looked around. It was small and old, but also cozy and had a home feeling to it. You both passed El's room, seeing her make out with some kid. You looked at Billy mischievously before kicking the door, causing the kid to shoot up and hit his shin on the bed. "Not cool five!"

You snickered as Billy tried his best to contain his laughter. That kid's face was just too priceless. You both get to your room and leave the door a crack open. You then get out a piece of paper and a pen, writing down all that Billy insists you have to experience. You were both laughing together when Hopper opened the door. "Hey. Just uh, checking in. Making sure everything's okay." He said, then muttering, "Y'know, keeping it PG and all."

Mike then passed by Hopper, stopping right behind him. You saw the time, and knew Mike would have Hopper take him home right about now. "I don't know Hopper, I think you might have to be careful. Billy Hargrove is the town's bad boy."

You stared at Mike, wide eyed. You then looked at Hopper and smiled. "That's strange, because his tongue has been in his mouth the whole time he's been here, but I can't say the same for Mike. Isn't that just the strangest thing?"

Billy bit his lip to hide his smile, although failing miserably. Mike had his mouth hanging open as Hopper gripped him by his shirt and dragged him out the door. "Y'know, for a sweet little thing like yourself, you got a wicked mouth on you doll."

You looked at him, uneasy. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Hell no. It's badass." You beamed and giggled, scooted closer to him. "Alright, now we gotta do all the things on this list."

You both agreed on what to do that day, leaving a note and grabbing the things you needed. You said goodbye to El and went to the car. Before Billy could start the car, you put a hand over his. "Um, I try to be honest with you about my life." You two stared at each other for a moment, before you gently ran your hand over the bruise on his jaw. "Friends don't lie."

He stared into your eyes, and though he didn't know why, he felt safe to talk to you about this. Friends don't lie. Billy couldn't recall if he actually had a real friend then. "Just a small fight with my old man, that's all." He muttered. "Saw Damien on my bed and called me a fag. He tried to throw it away and I wouldn't let him."

You took your hand away and stared at him with sad eyes. "This is my fault." You stated.

"Sweetheart no." He grabbed your hand, kissing your palm and settling it on his cheek. "I chose to fight him. That's on me. From now on I'm gonna hide him in my room. Right now I just wanna have a nice day with my favorite girl, okay?"

You gave him a small smile at the compliment and nodded. As Billy drove you quietly said, "Hey Billy," He nodded his head to show he was listening. "I think you're my favorite guy."

He flashed you a big charming smile. "Think, huh?" You giggled.

You looked down at yourself, uncomfortable. You weren't used to showing this much skin, and you certainly weren't used to wearing something without anything under. You stepped out of the Hawkins pool locker room and timidly walked towards Billy. "Maybe we shouldn't do this. I feel people staring at me."

Billy turned around after getting two towels to look at you, and he wasn't prepared for what he saw. You had your hair up in a high pony tail, letting him be able to see your face clearly. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes sparkled in the sun. You were hugging your body, in a one piece that was snug in all the right places.

"Well would you look at that?" He leaned against the counter, smirking as he looked you over again. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing? People are staring because of how great you look. Lucky me, I got to you before anyone else could snag you."

You bashfully looked down and smiled. Billy took your hand and led you to a pool chair where he sat you down and applied sunblock on you. As he did this, he listened to you babble on about how you almost went to a pool with El's friends before but then canceled because something happened with El that led to a lot of bad stuff that you didn't elaborate on.

"So you don't know how to swim then?" Billy asked. You shook your head. "All done. C'mon, you're gonna learn today."

You both went into the water, and Billy had you hook your arms around his neck while he swam to the deep end. At first you were nervous and didn't want to let go, but Billy insisted that it was okay and that he had you.

You got the hang of it fairly quickly, and the two of you were enjoying yourselves at the pool. A group of moms were glaring at you, and you caught bits and pieces of what they were saying.

Billy...girl...freak...ugly...body...

You could hear their snickering. You suddenly felt weird about your yourself. It was a new feeling, and it made you want to hide yourself from everyone. You suddenly felt a pair of hands under water bring you to Billy's muscular chest. "Don't pay attention to them." He murmured. "They ain't got nothing better to do."

You hung out at the pool for about another hour before you both went back to your home. He then told you that there was a party tonight, which was also on your list. Later on as you got ready, Billy called you with a gruffy sounding voice. You heard yelling in the background. He asked to come over, and you said yes.

About ten minutes later you heard a knock at the door and opened it. Billy had a leather jacket on and a dark red button down shirt with a few buttons undone. He looked down at your outfit, with your red skirt and cropped white long sleeved shirt. It looked perfect and adorable on you. "Billy!" You hugged him. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at you and smiled. "Yeah, just my old man again. Don't worry about it."

You frowned. "That won't stop me from worrying. But come in, I made food for Hopper and El." As he stepped inside your house, he couldn't help but feel warmer. This house had warmth in it, the type of warmth that Billy's house could never have. Billy was pulled out of his thoughts as you gently grabbed his arm, coming closer to him. "Um, I think you should know that we're a bit strange. And El is a little shy."

He nodded, completely understanding. You didn't want him to be offended if your little sister was not as instantly warm as you. You called out that dinner was ready and served yourself. The other two came out of their rooms to serve themselves, all while staring at Billy. "You can serve yourself too." You smiled as you handed him an empty plate. You made meatloaf with mashed potatoes and red rice.

Hopper took out another small table and pushed it with the one that was already there, pulling up a chair as well. You and Billy sat on one side while Hopper and El sat on the other. When they weren't looking, Billy buttoned up his shirt some more. "It's nice to meet you both." Billy said politely, knowing how to act in front of others. He's had practice.

"Yeah, you too." Hopper forced out.

The conversation was not going anywhere, so you stepped in. "El, Billy's from California." Eleven had a map of the country in her room, secretly wishing she could go travel somewhere other than Hawkins.

She looked up, interested. "Ocean?"

Billy nodded. "Lots of ocean."

"Pretty?"

Billy flashed a grin. "Real pretty, sunshine." Eleven smiled.

You stared at your plate and smiled. El liked him. Hopper couldn't help but feel less tense at the way Billy was making an effort to make them like him. He began to tell El about the times he's gone to the beach with his old friends.

Everybody at the table enjoyed what Billy was saying. The one who enjoyed this the most was Billy. He's never had this. He's never had a nice dinner, where everyone talks to each other comfortably. It's always quiet, with Susan going on and on about her day. He felt wanted here. And the food was actually fucking good.

After everyone was finished you began to wash the dishes. As you did, Hopper took Billy aside. "So, um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm trusting you with my daughter, and that's kind of a big deal."

Billy felt a twinge of pride. "Thank you sir."

"Just, uh, be back by 10, and," Hopper scratched the back of his head, worried about entrusting his daughter's safety to someone else. "Keep her safe."

Billy nodded. "I will sir."

You slipped on your shoes and told Billy that you were ready to go. As the two of you walked outside and to his car, Hopper and El came out. "Bye Billy." El said, waving with a small smile.

"Bye sunshine." Her smile grew a bit wider.

When you got to the house Billy took your hand and led you inside. He then got the two of you drinks. You took a swig, wincing. "This tastes horrible."

Billy nodded, chuckling. "It's for the effect, not the taste. I'll get you something a little less grown up." You understood the joking mannerism in his voice, and gently pushed his shoulder with a smile before letting him go off again.

As you waited you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder. You turned around and saw an unfamiliar drunk face. "Hey, what are you doing by yourself?" He slurred.

"Um, waiting for Billy to come back." You said wearily. You considered using your powers to knock him out. You knew you shouldn't use it in a public place, but you had a bad feeling about him.

"Billy Hargrove?" He took a step forward, to which you took a step back. "What are you doing with him?"

"He's good company." You said in a monotone voice. He kept on walking towards you.

"I bet I can be better company sweetheart."

You backed up into a hard chest. You turned around to see Billy, drinks in hands and staring straight at the drunk teenager. "You don't get to call her that."

"Billy-"

"Get behind me y/n." He didn't take his eyes off the guy, handing the drinks to you and stepping forward.

"You think you're the shit, huh California? You think you could just steal all the bitches, huh?"

Billy wiped his mouth, pointing at him. "What the hell did you just call her?"

You quickly set the drinks down on the counter and stepped in between the two. "Forget about it, please. It's my first party, remember?" You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Let's dance."

He glanced at the drunken teen before looking back at you. He stared at you for a moment before chuckling. "Whatever you want doll."

The two of you left the frustrated, drunk teenager and went to the living room, where he pressed your body to his, putting his hands to your hips as you rested your head on his chest.

"You should be more careful." He said after a moment of silence.

You lifted your head. "I know. But I'll have you, so I'm not worry." He happily looked down at you, making a mental note to kick the crap out of that guy another day.

After you danced you two talked to other people, Billy snatching you every time a guy got too friendly. Later you told him that you wanted to go, and so the two of you drove off, you telling him which way to go.

You parked in a field, where there was a pond on the other end. "Is this the part where something bad happens?" Billy joked.

You smiled and shook your head, looking out at the view. "When I escaped with El, we found this place, and just sat down to take in everything." You got out of the car and opened up his car door, grabbing his hand and leading him into the field, sitting down with him.

The two of you were sitting together, just talking about random things. He told you that he'd never had a trust worthy friend before, and you told him that you've never been around someone who was so focused on you. You both taught each other on this day that this was what having a true friend felt like.

---

Tag List:

@roxytheimmortal @shane-isa-shame @actuallyazriel @tanovic54321 @chipster-21 @jula-bear

[this-is-a-love-story-fleabag]

Lunchtime in Hell

Fleabag and the Priest go for lunch at Dad's place. 1841 words. Also on ao3.

"Gosh, is that a bikini?" said my godmother. "Aren't you brave."

Aw.

Her capacity for saying something that sounds like a compliment but is actually spectacularly cruel will never cease to amaze me. All of the words individually are perfectly polite, but when you put them together you create a masterpiece in passive aggression.

Sometimes it takes me a couple of hours to work out that's she's insulted me. She should teach a class.

Not quite knowing how to respond, I looked at the priest, and tried not to pout.

He gave a sympathetic grimace and finished his mouthful of wine. "Not as brave as explaining erotic artwork to teenagers, I bet."

She looked devastated. Brilliant.

We were two streets away from Dad's place when I started having second thoughts.

"We could just say I had another miscarriage."

The priest stopped short. To his credit, he didn't sigh as loudly as I knew he wanted to. "The parable of the boy who cried wolf might-"

"Yeah, OK, I guess I can't do that one again." I thought for a moment. "We could say I broke my leg!"

He closed his eyes and pressed hard on the bridge of his nose. "No."

"No, you're right, too easily falsifiable. Maybe I could actually break my leg. Find a heavy log or something."

"A log."

"Yeah."

"In the middle of Kensington."

Balls. "You're no help at all."

"It's not going to be that bad."

I decided not to dignify that with a response, and started back on my grim march. Slouching towards Bedlam.

We reached the front door and he rang the doorbell, before he noticed that I was edging backwards off the step and onto the garden path.

"Oh, no, no, don't you run off," he said, grabbing my hand.

"Aren't you supposed to save people from Hell?"

He gave me a fond look and a kiss on the forehead in response. He looked unreasonably gorgeous in the blue jumper with the good sleeves, and I, as usual, was dressed like a teenage girl who'd just finished her A-levels and wanted to act grown-up.

I am under no illusions about my fashion sense.

Ominous footsteps approached the door. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here," I murmured. He grinned. Handsome bastard.

My godmother opened the door with a theatrical flourish, wearing the kind of elaborate silk gown that a thrice-divorced heiress might throw on to be told by the police that her wealthy husband had died in a mysterious accident.

It suited her, the bitch.

"Darling!" she crowed, rushing out to give air kisses to our cheeks. Her hand lingered for slightly too long on my priest's bicep.

"Your father's just in the kitchen, why don't you go and help him?" she asked in her typically imperious manner, hustling us inside and closing the door. "Father, come and sit down for a glass of wine."

He gave me a terrified look as he was ushered into the pristine front parlour, but if he wanted to be rescued he should have agreed to the running away plan earlier.

I found Dad with his head in the oven, frantically basting a roast chicken.

"Alright, Dad?"

He started, and narrowly avoided banging his head on the top of the oven. "Oh, hello dear. I was just, er, with the, yes. How are you?"

"I'm fine." I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "How's the cooking?"

"Oh yes, fine. I could use your help, actually. The little pastries need to go onto the serving, er, thing."

When we returned to the front room, my godmother was practically sitting on the priest's lap, and he was visibly sweating. He stood up as soon as we entered the room, emanating relief.

"Let me help you with that tray," he entreated.

I passed it over with a raised eyebrow, and he made an unnecessarily complicated show of placing it on the table, moving to a different chair in the process. Very smooth.

"I was just telling Father here about my new philanthropic project," the satin-clad tentacle beast cooed.

"Yes, it's really very, you see she's-" started Dad.

"Thank you darling, yes, it's very important work, you see." She had one clasped to her chest and her eyes closed in an expression of great vehemence. "I'm taking the sexhibition to the local schools to show to the children." She opened her eyes and gazed at them beatifically. "It's just so important to me that underprivileged young people have the chance to really appreciate my work."

Wow.

The priest gave me another pleading look.

"That's very selfless of you," I managed to choke out, a hysterical giggle rising in my throat.

She tilted her head to one side, looking as though she was proud of me for understanding the magnitude of her sacrifice. "I know."

She continued her self-centred monologue as we sat down at the dining table in front of heaping plates of roast dinner. There was a brief lull as everyone tucked in.

"So dad, how have you been?" I asked through a mouthful of carrots.

"I-"

"He's taken up gardening, haven't you, darling?"

"Yes, I-"

"Terribly good at it, his raspberry canes are just fantastic this year."

Dad, bless him, just babbled nonsense for a moment until he gave up.

"It's a very spiritual act, gardening. Don't you agree, Father?" She was touching his bicep again, which was clearly making him very uncomfortable, but the position was making her trail her sleeve in the gravy, so it wasn't all bad news.

"Yes, it can be very meditative," he said, using his Priest Voice. "The act of nurturing life that way is quite beautiful."

He has one plant, a cactus in a flowerpot on his windowsill. It's dead.

"Now you simply must show me the photographs from Turkey."

Clearly angling to see pictures of the priest in his swimming trunks. Joke's on her, he spent the whole time slathered in sun lotion, hiding under a t-shirt and an oversized hat. That man does not tan well.

He brought up the photos on his phone, selfies the two of us outside the Hagia Sophia, one at a restaurant, one of me holding a plate of kebab meat as big as my head, one of him eating a piece of baklava in the least dignified way possible, and the jackpot, one of the two of us on the beach. He was wearing at least three layers of clothing (and still somehow managed to get sunburnt), and I looked fucking great, tanned and skinny in my swimming costume.

"Gosh, is that a bikini?" said my godmother. "Aren't you brave."

Aw.

Her capacity for saying something that sounds like a compliment but is actually spectacularly cruel will never cease to amaze me. All of the words individually are perfectly polite, but when you put them together you create a masterpiece in passive aggression.

Sometimes it takes me a couple of hours to work out that's she's insulted me. She should teach a class.

Not quite knowing how to respond, I looked at the priest, and tried not to pout.

He gave a sympathetic grimace and finished his mouthful of wine. "Not as brave as explaining erotic artwork to teenagers, I bet."

She looked devastated. Brilliant.

"Your sister's doing very well," said Dad, changing the subject. "You really should try asking her about your little café."

"Hey," I said, keen to cement my place as Best Daughter. "Claire has to live in Finland. I'm the successful one now."

"And so modest, too."

My godmother reached over to cup my face with one soft hand, leaving a trail of gravy on the tablecloth. "Well, you're got a lot to be modest about, don't you, darling."

"Thanks." I think?

"Weren't you going to expand your premises?" Dad pushes on. "She could help with your, er, your business, er, plan..." He waved a vague hand. "...thing."

The shop next to me is up for sale so I'm going to put an offer down and get a little more space, but I need to take out another business loan. It's fine, Claire's all over it.

"She's already helping me. I mentioned it to her and there was no stopping her after that."

Dad chuckled and topped up my glass. "Is there ever?"

I took a sip. "As long as she doesn't start suggesting some kind of Finnish-inspired pickled fish menu I'm all for it."

"Surely they don't actually eat that in Finland," interjected the priest.

"You think they're just trying to trick the tourists?"

"Must be, yeah."

"That way they can keep all the delicious reindeer meat to themselves."

"Bastards." He smiled at me and squeezed my knee under the table.

My godmother refused to allow us our peaceful moment of reindeer-nonsense, and broke in with her own opinions on the topic. "You know, I think the Scandinavians have a real appreciation for more unusual tastes. They're a very experimental people."

I raised an eyebrow.

"When we took the sexhibition to Sweden it was very well received."

There we go.

Several excruciating hours later, when I'd fully satisfied myself that my dad was alive and well, and meted out the appropriate amount of politeness to his wife to keep things smoothed over, I excused myself for a quick and restorative fag on the front porch. It didn't take long for Dad to join me. I handed him a cigarette and we smoked together in companionable silence. We have an understanding these days, a relationship lived through these quiet moments away from everything.

On my return inside, I could hear my godmother's strident tones through the wall. "Gosh, you are a saint to put up with her."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" said my priest slowly in his most dangerous tone, dripping with polite menace. Cold enough to give you frostbite.

I felt very loved.

"She's just a bit-"

She cut off her sentence abruptly when she noticed me standing behind her but didn't have the self-awareness necessary to look ashamed of herself. He was staring daggers at her, but stood when he saw me and came over to wrap me protectively in his arms.

"I'd really like to be heading off," he murmured, making an affectionate and rather pointed show of giving me a kiss.

"Would you look at the time?" I said theatrically to the room at large. "We'd better be going, we've got that thing."

"Fuck, yes, the thing. Very important thing." We're a flawless double-act.

With some stuttered pleasantries from dad and more air kisses from his wife, the ordeal was finally over. We walked down the road for ten minutes in meditative and rather shocked silence, enjoying the fresh air and taking the opportunity to process our trauma.

"Fuck," he said eventually, succinct as always.

"Quite."

"I mean, I've revised my stance in recent months on the merits of repressing your sexuality, but maybe it would be good if she could fucking repress hers a little more."

"There's definitely a middle ground between total celibacy and being a raging sex-dragon."

"I like to think I've struck the balance quite well."

"Was happy to help with that, by the way."

He drew his arm around me and I leaned my head on his chest. "I'd say you've been fucking instrumental."

"I really want to just go to a canyon somewhere and scream the word 'cunt' into the void for like an hour."

"Is there a canyon near here?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I might just have to scream into a pillow."

He stopped and drew me closer, stroking my head and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I think we can arrange that," he murmured.

[harringrovehouse]

Love Him for Who He Is.

In 2012 Tommy needs some advice from Billy.

“Hey Dad?” The door opens and Nora’s head appears in the crack, Billy barely glances up from the reports he’a trying to file.

“Yeah baby girl, what’s up?” Normally Billy would have given Nora his full and undivided attention, but he only had a small amount of time to finish these reports before his paternity leave kicked in and he’d be locked out of the system for the next six to eight months.

“Well uh Mr. Hall is at the door, you know that Mr. Hall. Yeah he says he needs to speak with you.” Billy paused from signing his name under ‘Sheriff’ and looked up at his daughter, she stood in the doorway shrugging. “He didn’t say what it was about. Just asked if my dad was home.” Billy sighed and stood up, pushing his chair backwards and making his way to the door. Nora backed up, her arms opening wide as she gestured him towards the door. Billy rolled his eyes at her.

“Don’t you have homework to do?” She shrugged again.

“This is going to be far more interesting than Geometry.”

“Homework, now!”

Nora gave a huge sigh and rolled her eyes, walking back upstairs to her room. Billy waited until he heard her door close before he continued towards the door. Stopping to collect his thoughts before he opened it. They hadn’t seen Tommy since they moved back to Hawkins, it had been at the annual 4th of July picnic/free swim at the community pool and Tommy had been drunk. Like drunk, Hopper had taken him in for being 3x over the legal limit. Steve had been playing with their new baby girl, Hailey, tickling her tummy while he kept an eye on Nora and Chase in the kiddie pool. Billy had left his family just long enough to get drinks and burgers, he had looked away for just a moment before Nora’s screech had brought his attention right back to them.

In the time Billy had been distracted Tommy had stumbled up to Steve and started hurling slurs at him. Calling him a fag, and yelling about how they shouldn’t have ever been given kids in the first place. Tommy had grabbed Steve’s tank top and hauled him up off the blanket, Steve had only just managing to avoid stepping on a screaming Hailey.

Billy had dropped the items he was carrying and raced back to his family but before he could get there Steve had straightenedup and cleaned Tommy’s clock, hit him so hard Tommy stumbled backwards and into the pool. Where a bloom of blood had erupted and caused people to jump out of the water. Billy collected Hailey in his arms just before Steve had whipped around and kissed him, in front of god and the whole town.

“Anyone else got issues with my family!” Steve had asked when he pulled away, knuckles bloody and face hard. No one had bothered them since then.

Tommy had been fined for public intoxicating and disturbing the peace, he and Carol had then moved to Indianapolis for a few years. People in the town still gave Tommy the odd look here and there but for the most part he seemes to have cleaned up and kept on the straight and narrow. That didn’t mean Billy trusted him around his family, Nora and Chase had had nightmares for weeks after the incident and Steve hadn’t slept for a week worrying that the whole damn town would be after them next. Billy had wanted to take them back to California, but Steve insisted that they stay. For his Mom, for Max and Lucas who were young parents struggling to go to college and keep food on the table, for Joyce and Hopper. They’d returned to Indiana for their family, and Steve wasn’t about to allow Tommy Hall to ruin their fucking lives because he was a bigot. If anyone else in the town had an issue well fuck them too, Steve had no problem breaking their noses too.

Billy schooled his face and opened the door. Tommy was standing on the other side, looking pale and shaking as he clutched his hat. “Tommy.” Billy greeted, leaning against the door, blocking the inside of the house from view.

“Uh, Sheriff.” Tommy looked up at Billy’s face and then back down to the ground. “How are you today?”

“Cut the small talk Hall. My kid said you needed to talk to me about something? Someone steal the neon from shop again or something?”

“No, uh no this is more personal.” Tommy shuffled.

“Okay, wel if you need to file a report or something Hank at the station can help-“

“No!” Tommy winced at how loud his voice had just gotten, eyeing Billy’s badge. He’s shoulders sagged and he rubbed his face. “I need to talk to,to” He seemed to struggle with the right words.

“Me?” Billy offered and Tommy nodded dumbly, Billy sighed. When he took over the job from Hop no one told him he’d also become the most unqualified therapist this town had. “Fine, make it quick.” Billy closed the front door and motioned for Tommy to follow him around the side of the house to the side garden, to a small table and chairs. Tommy feel heavily into the chair Billy offered and scrubbed at his face.

“I’m really sorry.” He mumbled and Billy gave him a look. “F-for coming to your home, but I didn’t know who else to talk to and you weren’t at the station.” Billy raised an eyebrow, Tommy had been to the station? “I know I’m probably the last person who should be asking for any kind of favor or advice, but Billy, man. I’m so lost right now.” Tommy looked up at him and Billy could see it, he could see the man drowning behind those eyes. And desite their personal history Billy was still the Sheriff, and it was his duty to serve and protect the people of Hawkins. That included Tommy Hall.

“What’s happening man?”

“It’s Troy,” Tommy and Carol had two boys and two girls. Troy was their oldest boy, he and Nora were in the same age. Billy knew Troy very well as well. From 6th grade to 10th grade Troy Hall and Nora Hargrove-Harrington had hated each other, more than a few times they had both ended up in the Principals office because their fighting had turned physically. It wasn’t until the middle of their 10th grade year did that change, Billy was sure no one knew exactly what but the two of them seemed to have reached a compromise and where no longer in danger of being expelled every other week.

“Oh. Uh he and Nora, they haven’t been fighting again?” Steve would have said something if Nore and Troy had been taken to see their Principal again, but Billy couldn’t remember anything like that being mentioned.

“No! No in fact Nora’s been really really helpful. She uh she’s the one that convinced Troy to tell me.” Tommy seemed to have lost the ability to form words again, Billy sat back and watched him flounder until finally Tommy sighed and looked skyward. “Troy came out to me today.” Billy felt his mouth open a bit, he had not been expecting that.

“Wow. That’s a big step.” Any kid who came out deserved an award in Billy’s opinion. But especially one who had a father like Tommy. “He’s a brave boy.”

Tommy seemed to struggle with something, tears forming in his eyes before he nodded. “He thought I wouldn’t love him.” And then Tommy was crying into the table, Billy jerked back a bit in surprised before he huffed and pulled Tommy up.

“And what the fuck did you say to that?” Billy didn’t have time for Tommy’s shit.

“I said nothing could ever change how I felt about him! He’s my fucking boy!” Tommy looked a mess, it would have been sad to see a full grown man like this but Billy understood. To a degree. “I-I’ll always love him! He and his sibling could burn half this country down and I’d still love them more than anything in this world.”

“Okay! Then why you here man?!” Billy was lost.

“Because man, I love him but the rest of the world, they won’t.” Tommy wiped at his face and dropped his head. “I treated you and Steve like shit when you first came back, let those old bastards down at Bill’s run their mouths about you guys. Call you fags and shit. I let the drink run my mouth for me. I wasn’t worth the air I had, and now! Now my boy is going to have to head out into the world and deal with all the same type of people.” Tommy’s shoudler shook and he looked up at Billy helplessly. “How do I protect him from that Billy. How do I!”

Billy swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at Tommy. Billy had always assumed Tommy, like a majority of people in Hawkins, was just a productive of his small town environment. That he never experienced the real world so he never related to people outside of their own cirlce of ‘normal’ and that they weren’t self aware enough to realize that the world wasn’t as cherry pie as Hawkins was. Billy was both pleasently surprised that Tommy seemed to realize how shit his behavior had been and absolutely dumbfounded that Tommy also realized that now that he knew his child wasn’t ‘normal’ like Hawkins wanted to define the word that he’d be subjected to the same behaviors that Tommy had once forced upon others. It was a strange feeling, realizing your old high school friend wasn’t as stupid as you always thought he was. Billy guessed it was partly from finally maturing past the mental age of 17 and being a parent.

“What do I do Billy. How can I keep him safe.” Tommy was practically begging this time and Billy sighed.

“You love him Tommy. Love him like you always have.” Billy thought bitterly about his own father and about Steve’s, about how they had vowed to never become a thing like those men. “You love him because you’re right Tommy, this world ain’t shit and no one is going to love them as much or as hard as you man. You’re his Dad, no one is every going to mean as much to him as you do. You and Carol are that kid’s whole life. I know he probably doesn’t act like it, but trust me, loving your parents and wanting your parents to love you back is something every kid wants. But the need to be loved, and the fear of being turned away, even by your parents is so strong when you’re the gay kid.” The sharp pain of Neil’s hand across Billy’s face when he told him about Steve was still fresh on Billy’s face. Neil had been hitting him for years before that, but to have that final blow happen sealed the deal. Neil had never loved Billy. But Tommy, Tommy wasn’t Neil. He might have been a loudmouth and an asshole for a bit but he had always been a good Dad to his kids. All he needed to do was continue exactly what he had always been doing. “Just be there for him, love him when he needs it, be his support system when need one, be there for him when bad things happen. Because they will Tommy. He’ll get hurt, by words and maybe even physically so you need to be there. Make up for the shit the world is going to throw at him, that’s all you need to do.”

Tommy broke down again, and this time Billy placed a hand on his shoulder and listened to Tommy’s fears and concerns. He listened to Tommy until the sky began to darken, and Steve’s car rolled into the driveway and Tommy’s phone buzzed.

“It’s Troy.” Tommy said with a sniff.

“Answer it man.” Billy watched as Steve poked his head around the side of the house, one eyebrow raised before he gestured to the bags in his hands and headed inside the house.

“Yeah bud, of course I can give you a ride. Don’t even worry.” Tommy hung up and smiled down at his screen. All four of his kids smiled back at him. “He just got done with baseball practice, asked for a ride.”

“Go get him man.” Billy stood and Tommy followed quickly, hand out.

“Thank you Billy. Thank you so much man, and I’m sorry. I-I really am.” They shook hands and Billy nodded, he and Steve could handle themselves. They’d put Tommy and his shit in the back of their minds.

“Just be a good Dad to your son Tommy. He deserves that.”

They walked to the front of the hosue together, findinf Steve, Nora and Hailey unloading the grocery bags. Billy watched as Steve gave Tommy a look, before returning to the grocery bags.

“Thanks again Billy.” Tommy shook his hand again before disappearing into his truck and driving away.

“What was that about?” Steve snorted, shoving a couple of bags into Billy arms.

“Troy came out to his Dad today.” Nora supplied, digging through a bag and pulling out a thing of M&Ms. Steve took them away from her, and shoved them into his front pocket. “Heyyy you said you’d get those for me.” She pouted and Steve handed her the eggs.

“After dinner. And did he? That’s very brave of him.”

“It is.” Nora agree, snatching the candy back when Steve wasn’t looking. “He was really worried that his parents weren’t going to be okay with him but I told him my Dad would shot his Dad if he hurt him and that he could come live with us if he needed to. It took a bit but he’s said he finally got the courage to tell his parents this morning.” Steve and Billy looked at each other, at least they finally knew what had happened in 10th grade.

“Did you now. You know you’re father is the town Sheriff, he can’t just go around shotting people.” Steve told her. Nora narrowed her eyes at him.

“I was talking about you. Dad would just use his fists.” Billy made an offended nosie, he’d come a long way with his anger management. Nora tossed him a look. “And I’d have helped!” She ripped the M&Ms open and dumped them into her mouth.

“Hey! Dinner!” Steve grabbed the last of the bags and chased their daughter back into the house. Billy watched them go, a heavy content feeling in his chest. He’d never gotten the same level of love he knew Tommy had for his son, but that didn’t matter anymore, Billy’s own children had grown up knowing their fathers loved them, enough to offer them up at substitute fathers for a scared boy. Billy supposed he’d was doing something right.

————————-

This idea came to me and I just needes to write it down. I liked the idea of Tommy being a dick to Steve/Billy when they came out, but then his own son comes out to him and suddenly Tommy realizes what a shit person he was and goes to talk to Billy about it. Also idk I like Hall as Tommy’s last name they’re probably gonna give him some dumb stupid long ass last name just to fuck with us XD I can feel it!

Hope you like it!

[gainerstories]

Formerly Fit

Trigger Warning:

Non-consensual sex is a key element of this story and may be triggering for those who have survived sexual abuse.

Kent Worthwood was the most popular guy in high school, a total bully, and secretly a fag. I had the great luck of not only being Kent’s favorite victim, but also the illustrious role as his cum dumpster. He was a junior when I was a freshman, and I was the perfect target for him to unleash a constant slew of attacks stemming from his own internalized homophobia. He made my life a living hell for the two years we were in school together. He immediately noticed I was gay and disseminated this information to our entire conservative high school. He would push me around in the hallways, vandalize my car, and made sure everyone else followed suit.

Things got worse one night at a Homecoming after party. Everyone was drunk on cheap beer and as I was about to call a taxi home, Kent locked me in the bathroom and forced me to give him a blow job. He was much stronger than me and I was afraid that if I didn’t comply he’d beat me up worse than ever. Despite feeling afraid and violated I was also kind of turned on. I constantly feel guilty for the fact that to this day I still jerk off thinking about that night. After the blow job he said no one would believe me about what happened and that if I tried to go to my parents or the cops he would ruin me. I had no other option but to stay silent. Unfortunately, this one-off incident became a regular activity. By the time Kent graduated we had a solid routine. He would text me that he needed my mouth, and I would go over to his house. Each time he would be spread legged on the couch in the same position, surrounded by a cloud of pot smoke. I’d pull his basketball shorts down from his toned varsity track star waist and suck his cock until he came. Then I would leave. And no one would know.

I felt mixed emotions once he graduated and left town. On one hand, I was relieved. On the other, I missed his smell, the taste of his thick uncut cock, and that hazy room stinking of marijuana. I knew I had succumbed to Stockholm syndrome and that I was better off with him out of my life. Still, memories of that time would occasionally sprout up and send me into a masturbatory spiral of self-loathing.

I moved to New York City after I graduated to study graphic design. I finally got to spread my wings and date a variety of men who treated me with dignity and respect. I had new sexual experiences that made the memories of those strange high school years begin to fade. However, once I traveled home for the holidays they all came flooding back. It was a surreal experience returning to my hometown after living on my own for a whole year, but I figured that was part of growing up.

I was out shopping with my mom when I received a text message from an unknown number. It read: “Hey, this is Kent Worthwood from high school. I’d like to see you again if you’re in town. I live in the same house as before.”

My head began to spin. There was no way this was happening. I wanted to resist his beckoning but I was also intensely curious. Why had he moved back to town? What did he look like now? Was he following his dream of running in the olympics? Why was he still interested in me? Would his cock taste as good as in my fantasies? I asked my mom if I could go out after dinner that evening and she agreed. I texted Kent back and he seemed pretty excited that I would be stopping by. His language was so kind that I became suspicious and was struck with the fear that I may be walking into a trap. I knew I had to be cautious, but my curiosity was piqued and there was no way I could pass up this opportunity.

After dinner I took a shower and drove over to Kent’s house. I always found it strange that his parents were never around when I was there. I found it even more bizarre that he had moved back. I parked in front of the house and took a deep breath. I was unsure of what I’d be walking into and had even brought a pocket knife just in case. From my car I texted Kent that I had arrived and he replied that the door was unlocked. I slowly walked up to the front door, took one last deep breath, and turned the knob.

It felt like I was stepping back in time as I walked inside. The living room was so clouded with marijuana smoke that I could barely see. I could discern that the TV was on and playing Beavis and Butthead and that all of the furniture looked the same as it always had. I could faintly discern a figure sitting on the couch, spread legged, and exhaling a puff of smoke from a bong. I stepped closer and was utterly confused.

“Kent?”

“Hey, cutie. It’s been awhile.”

I was completely floored. Kent was barely recognizable. He had to have gained over a hundred pounds since I saw him last. His track star physique was long gone. From what I could tell he was sitting at about three hundred and fifty pounds. A giant beer belly filled his lap and poured into the space between thighs that were thick as tree trunks. Buoyant manboobs rested atop the mountain of fat protruding from his torso. His once chiseled features and square jaw had softened underneath chubby cheeks, scruff, and a prodigious double chin. His hair had grown long and was tied up in a disheveled man bun. Unless I was mistaken, he was wearing a pair of old basketball shorts from when we were in high school. The cellulite on his thighs filled the legs of the shorts completely. His T-shirt was similarly tight and left nothing to the imagination. It was also covered with food stains that traced the curve of his mountainous gut. Overall, it looked like Kent Wentworth had become something of a fat slob— a far cry from his high school days.

“I… You… look so different.”

“I know. Thanks for not calling me fat. I injured my leg in college and discovered that you can’t eat the way I do unless you’re running several miles a day. Who knew!” He chuckled.

“Yeah, uh… who knew.”

I didn’t know how to behave. I was used to him slinging insults and homophobic remarks at me. The last thing I expected was small talk.

“Hey, you wanna hit the bong?”

“I think I’m okay.”

“I won’t pressure ya!”

I nodded awkwardly. What was I supposed to say?

“I wanna apologize,” he said. “I bullied you a lot for being gay and I really regret that. I was under a lot of pressure from my dad to do well in sports and I was having a hard time reckoning with my own feelings… gay feelings, ya know. Especially with you. I was so attracted to you man, I mean fuck… but I guess you knew that.”

I tried to hide my fiery indignation. No, I didn’t know he felt that way. I thought he hated me and thought I was garbage. I was nothing more than a warm mouth for his bitter come. Although brimming with outrage and insecurity, I was still speechless and incapable of forcing words from my mouth. I simply shrugged.

“Anyway,” Kent continued, ”I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, Javi. Those were some good times we had, and I was wondering if you might wanna do what we did back then?”

I was angry and wanted to spit in his face and tell him how miserable he made me. I wanted to shout that I still have trauma from what he did. But being in that room was fucking with my head. My dick was already starting to get hard and I think I was getting a contact high. I stepped closer and noticed that a pizza box sat next to him on the couch. All the slices were gone except for one that had a few bites taken out of it. I walked closer until I was inches from the couch. I gazed at the changes his body had taken on. It was unbelievable the weight he had gained. Part of me was repulsed but as I stepped closer I could smell his intoxicating B.O. Without second thought I dropped to my knees.

“Yeah, that’s right. You missed this huge cock, huh you little faggot?”

I nodded in agreeance and began to tug at his shorts. I had to slide my fingers in between the fabric and his hairy dimpled thighs and was surprised to discover how supple and cushioned his legs felt. I don’t think I had ever touched someone so fat until that moment. Without standing up he lifted his waist up off the couch to allow me to pull his shorts off. The maneuver forced his chin deeper into his neck fat, making his face look like modeled pastry dough. It also made his T-Shirt ride up and reveal a furry belly covered in blazing red stretch marks. I yanked the shorts from his body and he plopped back down, causing his belly to bounce like a water balloon and the couch to creak as though it were on the verge of collapse.

His cock was already hard, but appeared much smaller than it had four years ago due to all the chub surrounding it. When we were in high school his erection would slap against his toned abdomen and point straight towards his face. Now his gargantuan belly pushed it forward, causing it to point directly at me. I put it in my mouth but soon realized I couldn’t create much friction with all the fat in my way. I pushed my mouth as deep as it could go, allowing my face to be encompassed by his belly, thighs, and FUPA. The familiar smell of his body caused my erection to quiver. He definitely had become smellier with all the extra weight on his frame. It was the same smell he had before, only intensified.

I realized my old cock sucking method was no longer effective for an overweight guy. To remedy this I lifted his belly up with both my hands so that I could better wrap my mouth around his member. When I did this I discovered how truly large his FUPA was. It was so big that his overgrown bush looked quaint in comparison to the stretch marks laying underneath it. I began to get to work, bobbing my head up and down as I held up his belly. My arms were beginning to grow tired so I sat back for a break. I noticed that he was chewing on the remaining slice of pizza while I sucked and I was surprised at this blatant gluttony. He seemed unashamed. After swallowing the pizza down he let out a large belch that smelled like Mountain Dew and cheese.

“No one sucks my cock like you, man. Fuck. Play with my nipples too.”

He lifted his belly so that I could slurp on his boner with ease while also diddling his man tits. They were soft like a woman’s, but also covered in hair. He began to moan louder and louder and I could tell that he was close to orgasm. His body began to tremble, sending his fat into a jiggling frenzy. He dropped his belly on my face with an audible plop and brushed my hands from his tits so he could take over. He pushed my head down with one hand as he began to pump his jizz down my throat. I couldn’t see because my face was obscured by all of his extra weight, causing my other senses to heighten. I could smell the distinct odor of the unwashed crease between his FUPA and belly, feel his sticky unwashed skin stuck to my face while soft fat bounced around it, and feel the come coursing through his cock and exploding into the back of my throat.

I peeled my face away when he was finished and we made awkward eye contact. He never used to look me in the eyes.

“Hey, you wanna stick around for pizza and a movie? I’ll make it worth your while?”

I declined and drove home. The house was dark and my parents were in bed. I stripped off my clothes and laid down. My cock was still hard as a rock from what had just transpired. I opened up my laptop and googled: “chubby gay porn.”

[miss-m-and-her-blog]

He’s My Girl (Chapter 13)

TITLE OF STORY: He’s My Girl CHAPTER: 13 AUTHOR: miss-m-and-her-blog WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance, Action, Drama FIC SUMMARY: He’s a guy, she’s a boy in disguise. He’s an actor, she’s a stuntman or -woman. How can it ever work when the famous Tom Hiddleston stars in an action film, with Charlie or Charlene as his stunt choreographer? RATING: T WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: I’ve changed the cover, yay! :D I did that to keep up with the story’s progression, and of course, something to refresh the dear readers’ view ^_^ Hope everyone enjoys this chapter :D

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"We only have 30 days left for shooting," George whispered, staring nonchalantly at the heap of scripts and storyboards cluttered his table.

He was just calculating the days left and the scenes that needed to be filmed or re-shot; for George, he had to be always on work mode. For a moment, his train of thought was held up when someone placed a gentle knock over his trailer door.

"George? It's me... Al." He sounded a little shy, but that made George bolt right up and open the door wide.

Al held two cups of cocoa on both of his hands, it was obvious that it was meant for them. "I brought you something... to help you think." Al's full and luscious lips stretched into a smile that took George's breath away.

"Come in, Al. Thank you so much." George nervously babbled as he let Al in.

When Al gave the other cup to George, they started talking to each other about how their day went. If George only knew, Al would never get tired of hearing how his day went; how he would never tire of just listening to George's soft voice, his gentle nature that had drawn him at first place.

Their moment was abruptly ended when someone knocked on the trailer door; it was Andy Lockley, together with Tom. When Andy saw both George and Al standing so close to each other and evidently sweet to one another, he didn't bother to be discreet and he mockingly sneered at both of them.

Al saw his disgust, and he knew better, Andy would've shouted Fags! at them, only, Tom had come up the trailer door.

"Andy, how are you?" George still kept his composure and shook the producer's hand.

“Fine. Listen, I've heard that you're doing some re-shoots. Well, Tom here, he'd something to bring up. Come on, boy." Andy slurred as he spoke.

Tom, a little shy, spoke, "I'm just wondering if I could ask for permission to meet up with the execs at Warner Bros., that would also mean a day off from filming."

George shrugged, "Sure. That's cool with me. Whatever for, anyway?"

Andy cut off Tom and spoke for him, "They've asked him to play Ashley on their Gone with Wind remake. Baz Luhrman's directing it."

George only nodded and dug his hands on his pockets, "That's good. By the way, Andy, I would like to talk about the re-shoots."

Then he invited each and everyone to take a seat near his table. The scenes that were to be re-shot includes the fight sequence between Ian and Tom on a tarmac in LAX.

"Who choreographed that fight sequence? I saw the initial shots. Was it you, Al?" Andy asked Al that sat beside George.

"No, Charlie did that." Al pointed out.

"Charlie who?" Andy's grayed eyebrow raised.

Tom explained, "He's my trainer--Charlie Go. He's also a good stunt choreographer."

"How come I've never met him before? He's quite good. He might be better than Al." Andy's sardonic tone made it quite difficult to discern if he's just plainly joking or if he's being an asshole.

Al only gave out a quiet chuckle. He had been employed by Lockley studios for five years and with eight projects on his belt; he had learned to numb himself from Andy's stingy attitude.

"Tell the kid that I'd like to meet him." Andy tapped the table in front of him. Their small meeting continued, but at the back of Tom's mind, he was replaying the night he and Charlie watched a movie on a rooftop.

He felt a smile on his lips just remembering that exchange he had with Charlie.

I would catch you... If you fall. Always.

Then, Tom recalled what Charlie's uncle called him when he was about to barge in the room.

Did he call Charlie--Charlene?

He might have misheard Charlie's uncle, and besides, he was in between drunk and drowsy at that time; he couldn't have been sure. But after that night, his admiration for Charlie seemed to have grown. Tom knew what he said that night to Charlie and he meant it. Deep inside Tom, there is a certain desire to know Charlie more; To befriend him, to get close to him, to know his thoughts. It might sound crazy, but he harbors a soft spot in his heart for Charlie. He knows that it had always been there, since the first time he met Charlie.

He only shook his head, to which George noticed. Tom seems to be glowing, in love. At the back of George's mind, he was remembering the conversation he had with Paula a week ago. He asked her how's her relationship with Tom, she only responded with;

Tom gets easily distracted. It's hard keeping his attention.

George observed Tom who had broken off from his subtle daydream. If Tom is cheating on Paula, it would break George's heart to see his niece crying over a break-up once more.

The girl's been through a lot. That's why she's so eager with love; she had received none at all from the start. George pondered to himself.

After the talk with the reshoots, Tom had brought something up, "Are you guys free on the 9th?" Tom asked, a certain joy gleaming from his eyes.

Al shook his head and glanced at George, "I think so, yeah."

Andy leaned in to listen to Tom, "I want to throw out a party on the 9th."

Andy shrugged, "Why?"

"It's my birthday. I want to invite all of you if that's all right."

Everybody responded with agreement and Tom felt more excited. It's his birthday, Paula will be there; his friends would be there. He'll be surrounded by people he loves.

Charlie needs to be there. He thought. 

Tom felt excited about the possibilities that his birthday party promises.

“Blue or silver?” Charlie held out two neckties in front of Lily.

Charlie had asked Lily to come with him to the mall to choose a gift for Tom on his upcoming birthday party. As soon as Tom had invited Charlie, he immediately thought of what to give Tom. Charlie didn’t wanted to go to Tom’s birthday party empty-handed.

Lily crossed his arms on his chest, “Blue.”

Charlie compared the two neck ties. It is the only thing he could give Tom as what his salary could permit him to buy.

He didn’t seemed to like the blue tie, he thought the silver one looked better, “But... I think the silver one looks better.” Charlie held out the ties and placed it side by side.

“Well, you should consider what Tom’s favorite color is.” Lily shrugged, then looked back when he saw a handsome salesman passed by.

“I didn’t asked Tom. I thought all men liked blue or silver.” Charlie pouted, still baffled what color he would choose.

Lily scoffed at him, “You’re passing off as one and you don’t even know a thing about men.”

Charlie paused, Lily just say the realest things sometimes. “Maybe I don’t know that much about him.”

“Aren’t you two friends?” Lily started fiddling with the sunglasses at the next shelf.

“Yeah. Friends.” Charlie heavily sighed at the last word.

He finally had chosen to buy the blue one for Tom and he had it gift-wrapped, because in truth Charlie is a klutz in wrapping gifts. As he watched the saleslady wrap the gift up, he thought of what Lily had just said to him, that he and Tom are friends.

That pained him to think about it, because the truth is, he has fallen in love with Tom. Only, he has no inkling of what Charlie feels for him.

Sometimes, he can see signs that Tom do care for him, but it was hard for him to decode whether Tom just cares because they are friends or Tom really feels the same. For Charlie, it is like standing at the edge of a cliff; his feet half planted on the lip of that cliff, while the other half, exposed and ready to give up and make his fall. That is what Tom had made him feel for the past two months, always on the cliff’s edge.

Charlie tried to hide his sighing from Lily after they got the gift-wrapped neck tie. He wanted to keep those thoughts to himself for the meantime. Falling in love with the actor he trains is complication enough for his cover.

Tom stood at the terrace of his apartment, and he can oversee all the people he had invited for tonight.

He was sure he had asked everyone who needs to be invited, but he still kept it within his circle of friends. The most important guest, of course, would be Paula.

Tom did noticed that Paula had been having cold feet towards him these past few weeks, especially after the party where he almost got in a brawl because of Charlie’s cousin.

Since then, he would ask her if she’s all right, only to have a reassuring answer that she is.

He knew something was going on with Paula, yet he hopes that she would share that also with him. If she is in pain or anything, Tom could only hope that Paula would be honest with him; honest enough to let her heart really open for him.

The loud booming of music from the ground floor distracted him for a moment, but then, he heard footsteps coming up from the stairs. When he finally looked back, he was caught breathless at the sight of the person who just came up; it was Paula, only, her long golden tresses are no more, chopped down into a very stylish pixie cut.

“Hon? Paula? What did you do?” There was amusement in Tom’s voice.

Paula twirled around elegantly before Tom, her white silk dress moving with her, “So? Do you hate it?”

Tom chuckled, “No. Not really. I think I love it. But why?”

He had his open arms ready for her and she did took his hands on hers, “Nothing... Just something freshen up my look, or whatever.”

This time, Tom pulled her into a close embrace, “I love it. I really do. But, is that for a role or something? Aren’t you going to need hair for your role in that series, Stepford Wives?”

Paula’s laugh tinkled all over the room, “Hon, seriously, what are wigs for?”

They both laughed together as Tom held Paula in that sweet embrace. Paula had been done with the shoots for The Last Deal, and was free to do other projects.

“Are you expecting more?” Paula pointed out at the ensuing party below.

“Not really. Just George and the gang, they aren’t here yet.” Tom looked away.

Paula studied Tom’s face as he went quiet. Then she noticed, he had his hand on his pocket, as if he was fidgeting with something. For almost a second, she thought that it was a very small square-shaped box that she saw through his pocket.

Paula didn’t wanted to jump into conclusions that it might contain an engagement ring. She didn’t wanted to expect too much, just like the way she had expected too much of the things that had come into her life.

She held Tom tighter as they looked on the terrace. Maybe, Paula just wanted them to be this way for a while. She is not even sure if Tom would fully accept her and her past that she had been dragging on all her life.

After a few moments, an SUV stopped by the gate of Tom’s home. Tom knew that it’s them.

He turned to take a look at his wristwatch, “Just on time. 8 o’clock on the dot.”

Paula took his hand, “Let’s meet them.”

Tom smiled and they both went down to the gate. Meanwhile, Julian got down from the driver’s seat, with Gwen following him. While George and Al got out.

Charlie got out of the car lastly, and he already saw his companions greeting Tom and Paula at the gate. He immediately noticed that Paula had a very short haircut, but he wondered whatever for.

When Tom saw Charlie, he was wearing a black suit, partnered with no tie and just a plain white shirt. Tom thought that Charlie might look like he is from a Korean Boyband, that is all the rave nowadays.

“Happy Birthday, Tom.” George came to give Tom a hug, then he kissed Paula on the cheek.

Julian and Gwen then greeted and hugged Tom, apologizing that they were almost late to the party. However, when it was Charlie’s turn to greet Tom, he stepped forward to meet Charlie, leaving Paula on her spot.

“Hi. Thanks for coming.” Tom shook Charlie’s hand, and Charlie could only wish Tom wouldn’t notice that he is hyperventilating because of Tom’s firm and warm handshake.

“Thanks for inviting me. Oh, happy birthday, Tom.” Charlie then presented a small white box with a thick blue ribbon tied to it.

Tom held it in his hands and stared at it with awe for a moment, Charlie then pointed out, “It’s not much. I just didn’t wanted to come empty-handed to your birthday party.”

“Well, it means much more to me now. Come, let’s get inside.” Tom placed a warm hand on Charlie’s shoulder as he lead him inside the gate.

Paula noticed this exchange between Tom and Charlie. She knows that Tom is quite fond with his trainer, but sometimes she doubts it.

I’m not jealous. Do I get jealous when Tom gets close with Julian? Paula thought to herself.

When Tom and Charlie came up, Paula held out her hand to Tom, “Let’s get inside?”

Tom took her hand and they walked side by side with Charlie, following the others that are on their way inside Tom’s porch.

There were a lot of important guests for Tom’s birthday bash, and most of them are A-Listers including Kevin Feige, Loius D’Esposito, the director Joanna Hogg. Charlie felt shy. Seeing a lot of famous guests in one party feels a little bit overwhelming.

When they were already inside Tom’s home, Charlie marveled at the interior of Tom’s Californian home. The walls were a chic off-white, the mahogany bookshelves lined up at the other end of the room; the staircase were also white and carpeted, with a glass cover at each side. The living room sofas were also white, with a rectangular table in the middle, while a faux fireplace have both paintings hanging from either side. There were a handful of people grouped to two or threes, having conversations or drinking together, or even both.

Charlie felt he just entered a home he only sees on glossy magazine covers and some luxurious commercials of the rich and the famous’ home. He wouldn’t believe himself that he is now there in Tom’s home.

Tom made his guests sit at the sofas, when Charlie tried to sit at one corner, he thought he was going to drown in the marshmallow-like softness of Tom’s sofa.

Gwen noticed him being cramped at the corner, “Charlie, you’re stuck.”

Charlie let out a soft whimper, “Help... Too soft...”

Gwen chuckled and pulled him out of that corner, Charlie also laughed at himself then said, “I’ve never been to a rich person’s home. Didn’t know they have sofas this comfortable.”

She chuckled again, “I’m used to it. Being PAs to famous celebrities would give you some perks from time to time.”

Gwen made Charlie sit with them at the black and nude divan instead. While George sat with Al on a loveseat, bringing them closer than ever.

Paula sat at the head of the living room, facing the guests, as if she is the first lady, placed there to show her off. Tom went back to his kitchen to get some of the prepared refreshments.

George then talked to his niece, sitting across him,  “Paulie, darling, I love what you have done with your hair.”

Paula gently brushed the back of her head, “Thanks, Uncle George.”

But Julian pointed it out, “It kinda looks like Charlie’s hair, though. Just a little bit feminine.”

The four of them looked from Charlie to Paula, who are facing each other in the living room. Charlie had his head ducked down, feeling shy that he is compared to Paula.

For a moment, Charlie saw Paula’s smile disappear slowly, and her eyes flash with some kind of an underlying anger; after a few moments, it was gone from Paula eyes and she was smiling again.

“Yeah. I may have copied that from Charlie.” Paula joked.

Charlie only smiled, for he did not dared laugh with Paula when he just saw her reaction to being compared. He pretended being busy with listening to the booming music outside.

Tom finally came back with a try full of long-necked glasses of mimosas. He served each and every one, and then took his seat beside Paula.

Each one of them took a glass and George proposed a toast, “To the most gentleman English guy I’ve ever met; to Tom.”

They all raise their glasses and so did Tom, who thanked George.

Then, a thought passed by Tom, “Oh, by the way, have anyone invited Ian?” He asked, looking around them, but settling his gaze towards Charlie, whom he knew would have an answer to his question.

Charlie finished his sip of the mimosa and spoke, “Uhm... Ian said he’s busy--busy with the final touches on his home in Malibu. But I knew he would’ve wanted to come.”

Tom knew immediately that Charlie’s just trying to make it sound nice, but he knows that Ian wouldn’t really want to come.

A short awkward silence draped around them, but George broke the ice when he suggested they join the dancing outside Tom’s front yard. Everybody agreed to it, with Tom leading them out into the make-shift dance floor.

When the DJ saw Tom, he made sure he would play something Tom would dance into, and the starting beat of U Can’t Touch This by MC Hammer started to play.

"Ooh! Tom's gonna drop it!" Julian shouted out.

When the lyrics came up, Tom started kicking and jumping rhythmically into MC Hammer's rap, even imitating the dance step done in the music video.

He's an actor. He can sing. He can even dance. What does this man cannot do? Charlie thought as he crossed his arms on his chest, feeling his admiration for Tom to grow stronger, with him showcasing his dance skills.

When the line Hammer Time! had come up, everyone else joined Tom in the dance floor and started to dance into the song's remix version.

Julian and Gwen pulled Charlie in, but he tried to decline,

"No! I can't really dance! And I'm not that drunk yet!" Charlie complained.

"We don't care!" Gwen teased.

The three of them started jiving and shaking to the song Omen by Disclosure. At the middle of the party, Tom--then dancing with Paula, bumped into the trio of Charlie, Gwen and Paula.

"Are all of you enjoying yourselves?" Tom asked loudly over the booming music.

They all answered a loud Yeah! and continued dancing. Then, Tom caught Julian's elbow and whispered something to him.

After understanding each other, both of them excused themselves. Paula, observed this exchange between them. She tried to pretend she was still dancing, but she was following Tom and Julian with her eyes as they made their way inside and up the second floor of the house.

She had to excuse herself also, leaving Gwen and Charlie dancing on the dance floor.

"Where did they all go?" Charlie asked.

"Don't know. Wanna get some drinks?" Gwen tilted her head towards the mini bar. Charlie smiled and they both went over the mini bar.

Meanwhile, Paula quietly made her way up the second floor. There were no other guests beyond the first two rooms, but Paula heard both Tom and Julian talking in Tom's bedroom.

"Do you think she will love this?" Paula heard Tom ask Julian.

"What's that?" Julian pointed out.

"An engagement ring." Tom coyly presented the boxed diamond ring to Julian.

"Wait... Is that...? For Paula?"

With that, Paula had her back pressed on the wooden panel, anticipating Tom's answer. For a few seconds, Tom didn't answered.

Is it really for me?

"Jules, man, come on. Weren't you sighing around the other day how you'd want to give Gwen a diamond ring when the time comes?"  Tom finally answered. Paula knew it immediately, the ring was never meant for her.

"But... I didn't asked for it. You know, you're the one more likely to propose to your girlfriend."

Paula could almost hear Tom shrug, "Not yet. Maybe not just yet."

For a long moment, they were both quiet. But Paula can hear every aching beat of her heart.

"Then why the ring?" Julian asked.

Tom tapped Julian's shoulder, "Think of it as an engagement present to the both of you."

Julian sighed, "Tom, it's your birthday. You're the one supposed to be given gifts."

"No, no. I'd only be satisfied if you would have me as your best man." Tom said with a laugh.

"Definitely." Julian replied confidently.

Paula didn't wanted to hear another word from their conversation. She went not downstairs but to the other room's bathroom. She quietly closed the door, and saw the wide mirror.

Paula got close to the mirror and saw tears flowing down from her eyes, ruining her perfect make-up.

"Stupid. Just plain stupid." She whispered to her reflection.

After she had wiped all of her tears away, she came out, as if nothing happened.

All the guests gathered around the small stage, all of them looking up to Tom who is going to open all of his gifts.

He already started on one, and it was a replica of his Loki helmet on Thor: Ragnarok.

"Just in case you'd like to roleplay on foreplay!" Taika Waititi--who Tom invited the last minute, shouted out at the back of the crowd, proud of his birthday gift to Tom.

Tom abashedly snickered, even blushing, as his guests laughed at their banter. He then proceeded to open Paula's gift, a Bremont watch, and one of the most expensive too. His eyes softened and he affectionately gazed at Paula,

"Hon, this is... Thank you so much." Tom sweetly beamed at his girlfriend.

He even got off stage to give her a kiss. While Charlie, who sat next to Gwen and Julian, saw that his gift is next to be opened.

Tom was now given the next gift, he read the note, "To the kindest person I know. From, Charlie." Tom smiled at Charlie's way.

He saw Tom's eyes light up as he opened the box. Tom pulled out the blue neck tie and admired it.

"Oh, thank you so much, man!" Tom exclaimed, holding out the blue neck tie. Paula looked back at Charlie who sat at the last row.

"My trainer, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Charlie Go. Stand up, mate." Tom presented Charlie.

He didn't wanted to but Julian urged him. Charlie stood and smiled at the guests, but in the middle of the crowd, he saw one guest that made the hair at the back of his neck stand; it was Andy Lockley.

The old man was looking at him, inquisitively and interestingly, which terrified Charlie. When Charlie sat back, he was sure he needed to get out of the party before he is to be introduced to Andy.

Charlie had tried to avoid Andy's occasional visits on set. He was too afraid that Andy would recognize him, and he was not going to let his cover be blown and his semi-revenge toppled to the ground.

He was about to get up his seat when Gwen stopped him, "Charlie, where are you going?"

Charlie froze like a dear in the headlights, "Uhm... I think I have to go. I don't feel so good--I had a lot of sushi." He acted out like he is having a tummy ache.

Julian knew that Charlie is just giving these excuses so he won't run into Andy.

"Maybe you just need to use the bathroom, buddy. I'll come with you," Julian winked at Charlie, then he turned to Gwen, "We'll just use the boys' room, baby." Then he kissed Gwen on the forehead who nodded at him.

"Come on." Julian whispered as Charlie followed him.

When they reached the entrance to the kitchen bathroom, Charlie sighed with relief.

"What is that man doing here?" He asked Julian.

"D'uh, he's the executive producer. If Tom didn't invited him, it would mean he's dissing on Andy." Julian had his hands on his waist.

Charlie leaned back anxiously at the marble wall, "He looked at me, Jules! Do you think he recognized me?"

"Don't know." Julian replied.

"Oh, here you are!" Andy's voice filled the hallway, which made Charlie freeze on where he was standing.

Julian tried to act cool, "Oh, Andy. Hey, nice of you to turn up." then he let out a nervous chuckle.

Andy then turned his attention to Charlie, who tried to avoid his gaze. "So you are Charlie Go. I've heard a lot about you." Andy held out his hand to shake Charlie's.

But for a moment, Charlie hesitated. He was the reason why he cross-dressed. Andy was the reason he wanted to exact revenge to the studio; to prove himself, or herself.

Charlie shook Andy's hand, he even smiled at him. He felt like he is playing a game with the enemy.

"Sir. Nice to meet you, finally." Charlie politely said, which surprised Julian.

"I heard a lot about you. And I admire your stunt choreography, by the way.” He tapped Charlie’s shoulder.

For a moment, he felt a certain glee that this man, who rudely embarrassed him in front of everyone, admires him for his skills. Before Charlie could smile at that, he shrugged it off and said,

“Well, thanks. I didn’t really made that all up, actually.” Charlie then looked down, but he can feel Andy’s amusement.

“Really? Someone taught you then?” Andy crossed his arms on his chest.

Now, Charlie met his gaze, a shining defiance on his eyes. “My Dad.”

Andy could only nod and smile at Charlie. Julian watched them all the while.

“So, any of you going to use the bathroom?” Andy asked, Julian and Charlie, shook their head.

“Well, I’ll be going ahead.” Then Andy got inside the bathroom.

Charlie loudly sighed as soon as Andy was gone. Julian urged them to get back outside.

“Guys, thank you for coming.” Tom bid goodbye to all of his guests as the party ended.

They all had giveaways that they took home with them. It was almost 1 o’clock and some were wasted from the party, they were needed to be helped into their cars.

Charlie was still a little bit shaken after that encounter with Andy. He was thankful enough that he didn’t crumbled down in front of Andy. As he sat over an empty table, waiting when they would leave. He texted Uncle Barty that he’s on his way home.

“Can I join you?” Tom asked him as he stood beside Charlie.

“Yeah, sure.” Charlie tried to sound casual.

Tom sat in front of him. “Are you all right?”

Charlie’s eyes leveled with Tom’s. He doesn’t know if he wanted to answer that. Instead, he smiled and nodded at Tom.

Tom then said, “Thanks again for your gift.”

Charlie looked up to him, “It’s  not really that much. But I’m glad you liked it.”

But behind Charlie’s smile, Tom could still see that shadow on Charlie’s eyes.

“Are you really all right?” Then he placed a hand on Charlie’s knee.

That warm and caring look that Tom is giving him, was enough to jolt his heart up; making him forget he ever saw Andy Lockley.

He then placed a hand over Tom’s, “I am now. Thanks.”

They both smiled at each other, the warm light of the table centerpiece casting a glow on Tom. But Charlie was sure it was not the light, not the night’s ambiance but the same glow he can always see on Tom.

They didn’t spoke another word, but they didn’t knew who was watching.

Julian saw how close Tom has becoming to Charlie. There was nothing wrong with it, except, Charlie is pretending to be a man. It could spell out trouble, but who is he stop them from becoming friends?

But Paula, saw it also. She wants to ignore it, but could she really? She can see the way Charlie smiles at Tom, and she can also see the effect Tom has on Charlie. Paula couldn’t tell yet what is their understanding with each other, but she can only hope it’s nothing more but friendship.

[deputyysoandso]

The Amazing Adventures of Trashmouth of Gazebo Boy 

In every movie Richie had ever seen, when two people (usually some semi good looking white man and woman) who would wind up as “soul mates,” the first time they met was a Big Deal. Even years after the fact, the Man would be able to remember what the Woman was wearing, recall the way her purple blouse brought out her blue eyes and how her long blond hair had been braided neatly down her back.

And the Woman could remember that her beloved had been so preoccupied reading some lame book—and she knew what book it was too—that he’d almost stepped into traffic. The two could bring up every detail of that moment, when they’d first laid eyes on each other and the world had stopped, just for a second as their eyes met across the busy street. Fade to black, end of movie, the audience is sobbing and everyone is happy.

Richie had found that this sort of thing didn’t really happen in real life, ‘cause he couldn’t remember fuck all about the day he’d met Eddie. Although, in his defence, he’d had a pretty severe concussion.

There were pictures, snap shots of the day jumbled up in his mind all out of order—Eddie hovering above him, cleaning up the wound on his forehead, him stepping off the curb just in time to be knocked over by some asshole on a bicycle, smacking his head against the sidewalk—just images, and a snippet of conversation.

“What’s happening—who are you? Am I bleeding? Is that fucking blood—”

“Don’t talk.”

“Why? Will it make the bleeding worse?”

“No, but you’re kind of annoying and I’m trying to concentrate.”

Everything else was a blur. He was told afterwards that Eddie had bandaged him up and gotten someone to call an ambulance. He’d ridden with him in the ambulance and stayed with him until his parents had shown up. Richie remembered none of this, and had actually forgotten about him completely until he showed up in his hospital room again the next day.

Richie had been slumped over in his bed, staring at some boring ass soap opera on television and trying to piece together what the plot was based on the five minutes he’d watched. Someone was sleeping with someone else’s sister, who was really the person who’d poisoned someone else’s husband. There was also something about a cat, who might have been a human sometimes and Richie was beginning to suspect time travel was involved as well.

It was an odd show.

The curtain around his bed was pulled back suddenly, revealing a small kid with dark black hair and big brown eyes.

“You’re really watching this crap?” He asked, looking at the show on the small television screen by his bed. “My Mom watches this show, it’s bullshit. Every time they think they figure out who the killer is, and they arrest them or kill them or whatever, it’s just like ‘oh no they had an accomplice who’s still out there’ or ‘it was really her twin sister everyone thought was dead’ or blah blah blah. Also the time travel makes it really confusing.”

Riche frowned, looking at the kid in front of him, who was talking faster than Richie could really digest in his current condition. It took him a moment to get the words into his mouth. “Who the fuck are you?”

The kid looked surprised for a moment. “I’m the guy who saved you life when you got brained by the sidewalk,” he said. “They didn’t tell you. You probably would have bled out if it wasn’t for me.” He paused. “I’m Eddie,” he said. “Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“Richie Tozier,” Richie said. What Eddie was saying sounded familiar, but he could only recall bits and pieces.

“Yeah I know, you told me yesterday. You also told me you liked butterflies, and tried to catch a bunch that were not there.” Eddie grinned. “It’s a concussion, right? That’s what I thought it was, yesterday, ‘cause of how out of it you were. Was I right?”

Richie nodded. Eddie looked pleased.”Well, you’ll be alright. The doctors here seem to know what they’re doing, and if you were going to go braindead you probably would have by now. You’ll probably have a nasty contusion though, for a while.” He tapped his forehead, in the place where Richie had hit his head.

Over Eddie’s shoulder, Richie could see a single red balloon bobbing towards them. The balloon was held by Stan, who looked somewhat dishevelled, and Bill who was sporting a cut on the lip. It wasn’t difficult to guess who gave it to him.

Richie sat up straighter in bed, excited to see his friends. He’d been developing a theory that everyone he’d ever cared about had forgotten him, and he would be left alone to die in this hospital while everyone went on and lived their lives without him, so it was nice to find out that wasn’t true.

“Stan the Man, Big Bill!” Richie greeted, smiling from ear to ear despite the pounding pain in his head. “What are you guys doing here?”

“What do you mean what are we doing here?” Stan asked. “You almost died! We had to be there for that,” he teased. Richie snickered and looked at the one single balloon he was holding. He raised an eyebrow. “We had more, but we ran into Henry Bowers,” he said. “They popped most of them… saved this one, though,” He said, offering the sad lone balloon to Richie.

“We had fuh-fuh-flowers, t-too,” Bill added. “But apparently, flowers are for fags.”

“They stomped on those,” Stan explained.

Bill noticed Eddie standing there, looking down at his shoes. “H-hi,” Bill said, never one to exclude someone.

Eddie glanced away and then back again, suddenly shy.

“This is Eddie, apparently he saved my life yesterday,” Richie explained. “I don’t remember it, but the kids got a trustworthy face so I believe him.”

“Oh, so you’re the one that called the ambulance?” Stan asked. “You couldn’t have left well enough alone?”

Eddie frowned. “Well, I told Mr. Gruber to call an ambulance, so technically I guess it was him, but I kept the wound from bleeding out too bad until they got there. Probably prevented an infection too, there was all kinds of dirt and crap in it from when he hit the ground.”

Stan nodded. “Joking aside, thank you. Most 11 year old kids wouldn’t know what to do in a situation like that. I probably would have just cried.”

“Deh-deh-definitely would have just cried,” Bill added. Stan glared at him, and Bill grinned. “It was n-nice of you to come visit,” He said to Eddie.

“Oh, I’m not visiting,” Eddie replied. “I’m here for my weekly appointment with Dr. West. My moms just over there filling out some paperwork, so I thought I’d come over and see if he was dead or not.” Eddie paused. “He’s not.”

“Weekly appointment?” Richie asked. “Why do you need a fucking weekly appointment? What’s wrong with you?”

Stan gave him a look. “Richie,” he hissed. “None of your business.”

“My mom says you shouldn’t use words like that,” Eddie said, seemingly unfazed by Richie’s prying. “She says it’s unproper,”

“Improper,” Stanley corrected.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Eddie said, nodding. “She says it’s improper, and that those are trashy words that only trashy people use.”

Richie shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. But you didn’t answer my question—what’s wrong with you, why do you have weekly appointments with Dr. West?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Eddie said. “Not this week at least. But next week, who knows? My mom just wants to make sure. You never know what you might contract on a weekly basis. I have a pretty frail disposition, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

The way Eddie said this, Richie got the idea that he was repeating something he’d heard a grown-up say to him. Most likely his mother, who sounded like a piece of work.

Somewhere beyond Richie’s curtain, a shrill voice called Eddie’s name. “Coming, Mah!” Eddie called back to the unseen woman. He looked at Richie. “Well, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you guys,” he said to Stan and Bill. To Richie he said, “See you later, trashmouth,” and he grinned at him before walking off.

Richie stared after him. “What a weirdo,” he said.

“I luh-luh-like him,“ Bill said. Stan nodded in agreement.

[sportarobbie-shorties]

Smá Rob

Wait, what is this?

Warnings: Swearing, violence, bullying, abuse, extreme sadness, crying.

Summary: Robbie’s childhood.

Glanni stares at the baby in the cradle. He was very excited to travel to the US from Iceland, but he didn’t expect seeing his newborn cousin would be so fascinating. He’s only eight years old, but he can sense a little bit of a connection with this small baby. Glanni makes a funny face at the baby, and he laughs.

Robert waddles around the living room, laughing, with his cousin chasing him. Surprisingly, Glanni thinks it’s fun playing with his cousin, even though Robert is only four years old.

It’s also surprising that Glanni has learned English better, thanks to his cousin - who is a toddler. Glanni visits his aunt and his cousin in the US every now and then. Apparently Robert’s father is, or was, American, and that’s why they live there. Glanni thinks it’s quite amazing that Robert is growing up speaking two languages. He also think that ‘Lazy Town’ is a funny name for a town.

Little six-year-old Robert follows his older cousin around. Glanni smiles at his confused expression and then asks: “What is it, smá Rob?” Robert stares at Glanni’s fancy, black high heels for a moment, and then asks: “How do you walk with those?” Glanni laughs fondly: “With a lot of practice.” Robert looks at the shoes again, asking: “If I practiced a lot, could I walk of those too?” “Of course you could. Do you want me to help you?” “Yeah!”

Robert steps into his cousins shoes. They’re way too big for him, but he doesn’t care. He’s excited to try and walk like his cousin. Glanni takes Robert’s hands, helping him with balance, and they start walking slowly. “There we go... You’re getting it.” Robert waddles around with the high heels, without Glanni’s support for a moment, but then falls over. “Wow, smá Rob, you did great! You were certainly better than I was when I tried for the first time.” Robert smiles wide: “Really?” “Really”, Glanni responds with a loving smile.

Robert swings his legs back and forth nervously. He sits outside the principal’s office, waiting for his mother. He’s only eight years old, but gets into trouble a lot for all of the pranks and tricks he does.

Robert flinches as he hears steps coming his way. His mother shows up with her black hair in a bun, and she glares at Robert. She tells him to get up, and she knocks on the principal’s office door.

“Ah, nice to see you again, miss Rotten.” The principal tells them to sit down, and she talks to Robert’s mother. His mother’s Icelandic accent is very thick, and she sounds very angry when she talks. Probably because she is angry. She’s often angry at Robert. She shouts a lot. Robert doesn’t like it.

Robert and his mother walk home, and his mother stays completely silent. “Mamma!” Robert whines after her. “Ég gerði ekki neitt!” (”I didn’t do anything!”) She doesn’t believe it. And yes, it’s right - Robert did do anything. He did everything he was blamed for. Yes, he sneaked into the storage. Yes, he stole nets. Yes, he made a trap out of those. Yes, he trapped a couple of his classmates underneath it. But they deserved it! They kept teasing Robert. They said that he’s weird, and he should go back to his weird, northern island - even though Robert has never been to Iceland.

Once Robert and his mother get home, Robert smiles. He usually doesn’t like being home, but now, his cousin is visiting Lazy Town! He runs into Glanni’s arms, and Glanni pets his black, curly hair. “Haven’t seen you in a long time, smá Rob”, Glanni greets, and they go inside.

They go to Robert’s room, and Glanni sits by the piano. He looks out of the window for a while and then starts playing. Robert stares at how quickly and naturally his hands move on the keyboard. Robert goes to sit next to Glanni and asks: “What song is that?” “It’s Versti Fantur, my own song.” Glanni continues playing, but Robert interrupts once again: “Can I play it?” “Yeah, sure. I can teach you.”

Glanni teaches Robert the beginning of the song. He doesn’t do that good, and it’s very slow, but he’s only starting out.

Their delightful lesson is interrupted by Robert’s mother:  “Glanni? Get ég talað við þig?” (”Can I talk to you?”) Glanni sighs. He gets up and smiles sadly at Robert, before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

Robert sits on the edge of his bed, silently waiting. It doesn’t take too long before he hears shouting. The door is doing nothing to block the noise out, and every single word strikes Robert’s heart.

Glanni doesn’t get along with Robert’s mother any better than he does with his own parents. In all honesty, Glanni doesn’t get a long with any grown ups - or anyone for that matter. He only gets along with Robert, and Robert is just a kid.

Robert isn’t sure if people don’t like Glanni because he does bad things, or if Glanni does bad things because people don’t like him. Glanni smokes, does a lot of graffiti, and he also steals things every now and then. He doesn’t get caught often, but people still know that he’s a troublemaker. He’s usually very rude to everyone - everyone except Robert. He treats Robert very nicely. Robert thinks it’s quite funny, that Glanni isn’t nice to anyone, except for Robert, and no one is nice to Robert, except for Glanni.

Robert flinches when he hears Glanni scream. His mother rants on, while Glanni tries to interrupt her by just shouting even louder. Robert fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt and translates the conversation in his head:

“You’re nothing but a bad influence! Robert keeps getting in trouble at school, and it’s all because of you!” “Well, why do you suddenly care? You never care about Rob anyway!” “Yes, I do!” “No, you don’t! I know you don’t! You don’t care about the drawings he tries to show you! You don’t care about the little inventions he makes! You don’t care about his hopes and dreams! You don’t even know them, because you never listen! Well, here we go; he wants to be a designer when he grows up! He wants to learn different instruments! And oh, don’t get me started on how fucking much he wants to make you proud! But you don’t care, do you?” “Listen here, young man; he’s my child, and I make the decisions in raising him!” “Well, maybe you shouldn’t!”

Robert starts shaking as he listens. There are tears in his eyes, but he uses all the strength he has in him, so he won’t start crying and he’ll stay quiet. He tries to ignore the shouting and screaming, but it won’t work. He listens to it with a hollow feeling, just hoping it would end soon.

Finally Robert hears Glanni scream: “Fjandinn hirði þig!” The front door slams shut, and Robert runs over to the window of his room, to see Glanni wearing his leather jacket, walking away fast.

Robert waits for a moment. He then carefully opens the door of his room, and sneaks through the hallway. He takes his own bright purple jacket, and leaves the house, closing the door as quietly as he can.

Robert doesn’t have to wonder where to go. He knows Glanni likes hanging out on the outskirts of the town, by a big billboard. It’s warm, but the sky is grey, as Robert walks over to the billboard and finds his cousin there.

Glanni doesn’t even notice Robert walking up to him, as Glanni takes a drag of his cigarette and stares into the distance. “Glanni...” He flinches as he hears Robert’s voice, and then notices him sitting down next to him. “Hey, smá Rob”, he responds simply. Glanni starts being very careful, blowing the smoke of the cigarette away from Robert.

Both of the cousins stay quiet for a while. Robert notices Glanni coughing a lot - mister Meanswell says it’s because of his smoking. Robert looks up at Glanni, and he looks kind of sad. “Are you okay?” Robert asks. Glanni opens his mouth to answer, but nothing but smoke comes out. He stares into nothingness, and Robert can see a sort of glistening in his eyes. Not the kind of happy, beautiful glistening that glitters. It’s more of a sad glistening that makes everything blurry and confusing.

“Já, I’m fine”, Glanni finally mutters. Robert stares at him for a while longer and then shift a little closer to him, and leans on Glanni. He’s confused at first, but Glanni then throws away his cigarette, and hugs Robert tight.

Robert is 12 years old when he gets interested in makeup. He walks up to his cousin, who is once again visiting Lazy Town. “What’s up, smá Rob?” “Can you teach me how to do my makeup?” Glanni smiles at Robert. “Of course.”

Glanni helps Robert with not just makeup techniques, but also with what products to buy. They sit on the floor of Robert’s room, doing their makeup together and laugh. Glanni is genuinely enjoying this time with his cousin, but Robert notices how he’s shaking the whole time, and he seems tense. Right after they’re done, Glanni quickly goes outside for a smoke. He’s been trying to quit - for Robert. He’s been trying so hard, but he isn’t strong enough.

The next day, Robert realizes why the makeup was a bad idea. “Hey, fairy!” A couple of guys walk up to him threateningly. Robert knows this won’t end well. These are the same guys who are incredibly good at sports, and laugh at Robert’s lack of skill, strength, and speed. He’s no match against them.

“Where do you think you’re going, little fairy?” Robert stays quiet, and avoids eye contact. He tries to push his hair to cover his face, but it won’t work, and the bullies grab him by the hair, even though it’s not even that long. “I asked you a question, fag!” the tallest one shouts, spitting on Robert’s face.

“Just let me go...” Robert mutters quietly. “What did you say?” “Yeah, we couldn’t hear you over the sound of how gay you are!” Robert wants to just cry and disappear, but he knows crying is the last thing he should do right now - he knows from experience.

“Guys, what should we do this time?” You should let me go this time, Robert thinks to himself, but he won’t say it out loud. He thinks of how this situation could go, if he was stronger, if he was faster. He could escape. Or what if he wasn’t weird, and didn’t get their attention. Life would be so much easier, if he wasn’t half Icelandic. If he wasn’t so feminine. If he wasn’t so weird. If he was ‘normal’.

He’s woken up out of his thoughts with a kick, making him fall over, hitting the hard ground. He doesn’t have time to get himself back together, for he gets another kick to his side, and then one to his head. And another kick. And another. And another. And another... He cries, trying to stay as quiet as he can.

“What if I am gay?” Robert asks, not really expecting an answer. All he expects Glanni to answer is something like “It’s normal to think about that, you’re 14 after all, you’ll go back to normal soon”, but instead Glanni throws away his cigarette - meaning he’s serious - and asks: “What about that?” “W-well, I just... I don’t know...”

Glanni keeps staring at Robert expectantly. “Well... I was just wondering what would happen. W-what... what would you do?” “I’d love and support you. It’s quite obvious isn’t it?” Robert shrugs and stares at the ground.

“Seriously, smá Rob, you don’t have to worry. I know what it’s like. I’ve been through that, I know the struggle.” Robert’s eyes widen, and he turns over to Glanni. “You mean... You’re...?” Glanni simply nods. “Did you tell your parents?” “Yup.” “And did it go well?” “Nope, not at all”, Glanni answers without hesitation. “It was pretty tough, because I was probably like 17 at the time, but luckily I could come and live here every now and then.” Robert furrows his eyebrows: “But what did you do when you weren’t here?” “Lived on the streets until I was 19 and got my own apartment.” “Oh”, Robert responds. He had no idea Glanni had it that hard.

“Well, what will I do if it doesn’t go well for me either?” Robert sighs. Glanni smiles and shifts closer to Robert: “Hey, smá Rob. You can always come and live with me in Iceland.” Robert smiles at that. He likes the idea. He likes it very much.

Glanni lights up a new cigarette and chuckles: “I guess we’re both ‘the gay cousin’.”

Robert hasn’t been doing good in school in a long time. He never concentrates. His grades have gone down. He’s been getting into trouble. The teachers gave him one more chance. They gave him that ‘one more chance’ several times. But it didn’t work. So he’s been kicked out.

That’s why his mother is shouting at him. She says Robert is 16 already - he should be a lot more mature. She talks about how ‘she didn’t raise Robert this way’. She keeps on shouting, and Robert just wants to get out of here. He starts wishing he was never born.

Robert is brought back to reality, when he feels a burning pain strike his left cheek. He quickly turns to look at his mother, and he holds his cheek that now has a big red mark and an awful, tingling pain. His mother is looking down at him, but now silent. She still looks angry. She still looks powerful. She looks like she’s ready to do it again.

Robert’s eyes get filled with tears, and he stumbles backwards. He stares at his mother, and she stares at him, with no mercy in her eyes. He says nothing, as he runs out of the door, finally letting his tears fall.

Robert runs as fast as he can, running straight over to the big billboard, where Glanni is. He scares Glanni, as he runs over to him, and falls to the ground onto his knees. Glanni crouches down next to him straight away, with a concerned expression.

Robert lets tears fall, and he sobs helplessly. For the first time ever, he cries, and he isn’t trying to stay quiet. He has had enough of trying to stay quiet.

“Smá Rob, what is it? Please tell me!” Robert rocks back and forth, sobbing and screaming. His words crumble as he speaks, and he can barely make any sense of his speech himself: “I-I’ve had enough o-of it, I’ve h-had enough! I d-don’t w-want to do this a-anymore, I-I don’t! I h-hate it! I hate t-this fucking town, I-I h-hate it so f-fucking much! I don’t w-want to do this a-anymore, I-I don’t w-want to do t-this!”

Glanni lifts Robert’s chin up, and pushes his hair away from his face, to see the big red mark on Robert’s cheek. Glanni stares at it in shock, trying his best not to cry as well. Glanni takes Robert into his arms, and Robert cries into his shirt. He cries and sobs. He cries so much his eyes and throat hurt, and he can barely breathe.

“I-I can’t take t-this a-anymore! I’ve h-had enough, I c-can’t take i-it!” Robert continues crying, while Glanni holds him and pets his hair. “I’m so sorry, smá Rob. I’m so sorry.” He tries to wipe away Robert’s tears, and he looks him in the eyes. He has a very hard time trying not to cry, while he looks at Robert and his sad, tired eyes. He’s been through a lot. He’s only a boy, and he’s been through too much.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll get you out of here. I promise, I’ll get you out of here. I-it’ll be a lot of work... but I’ll do it, no matter what. Next time I come to visit, we’ll leave this place - both of us. I-I’ll take you with me, and you can be happy and free.”

Robert sobs, as Glanni keeps on talking, promising a better future. A future, where he won’t have to be hurt anymore. Once Glanni takes Robert to live with him in Iceland, no one can hurt him. Not the bullies. Not his mother. He can finally be happy.

Robert keeps waiting in his room. He plays the piano, playing the first song that Glanni ever taught him. He made English lyrics to it himself - he calls it ‘Master of Disguise’.

Robert looks out of the window, but Glanni still hasn’t arrived. Robert remembers what Glanni told him last time he was in Lazy Town: “I have a brilliant plan - not the best plan, but a brilliant one. It’ll take a lot of work, and its morals are... questionable... but it’s for a good cause. Once I have succeeded with my plan, I’ll come back here. Then I’ll have the money to get you plane tickets as well. I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

Robert will get out of here. He’ll get out of this town he likes to call hell. He’ll get away from all the awful people. He’ll get away from his mother. She can’t hurt him anymore. He’ll get out of here.

Robert waits, and waits, but Glanni doesn’t show up. Robert gets out of his room, and sees his mother sitting by the kitchen table. He walks over to her, and carefully asks: “Móðir? Hvar er Glanni?” (”Mother? Where’s Glanni?”) She doesn’t say anything. She sighs and gives Robert the newspaper from Iceland. “Glæpamaður Glanni Glæpur loksins náð”. (“Criminal Glanni Glæpur finally caught”)

Robert reads the article, skimming through it quickly. His heart skips a beat. He can feel tears coming. Robert puts the paper down, and stops for a moment. Poisoned an entire town. Stole the president’s car. Posed as someone else. Fooled people. Fooled the police force. Framed children for crimes. Locking children in, forcing them to work.

It’ll take years, maybe a decade - Robert doesn’t know - before Glanni will get out of jail. Robert holds in a sob - he can’t cry in front of his mother. He walks to the front door and grabs the leather jacket Glanni wore when he was Robert’s age. It might just be his imagination, but Robert thinks it still smells like the toxic smoke Glanni used to breathe.

Robert walks out of the door with a blank expression. He takes a deep breath and starts running. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know where. Tears prickle his eyes, he squeezes his hands into fists, and he continues running. He feels the tears run down his cheeks, and he lets out a small cry, but he continues running.

Robert finds himself running to the big billboard. He stares at the place, remembering everything they did together. Everything Glanni promised. He promised.

Robert lets out a scream and punches the billboard. It hurts his hands so bad, but he continues punching it, and kicking the small pebbles on the ground. “No!” he screams to the skies, as he kicks the ground once again. “No! No! No, no, no, no, no...” Robert cries his eyes out, and screams all his heart has.

“We were so close!” he cries. They were so close. So close to living happily. So close to getting Robert out of here. So close to ending all the pain.

Robert cries and sobs and screams. He screams in pain, in anger, in sorrow, in loss. He kicks the ground and punches the billboard. He punches it until his knuckles bleed. He cries, and the tears continue falling. Robert collapses onto the ground, crying. He puts his arms around himself and continues sobbing. Glanni isn’t there to stop the tears. Glanni isn’t there to pick him up. Glanni isn’t there to hold him. Glanni isn’t there to end the pain.

Robert realizes that he might never again hear Glanni call him “smá Rob”.

[adultstories4u]

I had no idea now many enemies I had made while a city traffic cop for nearly six exciting years. That was until I was fired from the job for trying to fix some politicians speeding ticket another veteran officer had written up two days earlier. Unable to land another state wide Law Enforcement job for nearly three long searching months, I finally took a thirty hour a week rather low paying position as a security doorman at a well know downtown Gay Club. Christ only into my second hour of my very first shift, I caught some older fag merrily sucking away on a large stiff cock right in front of the two mensroom urnals! Right on the spot I made a citizens arrest for lewdness and marched him straight into Mr. Hendersons private office. It was there I learned that I was always supposed to just look the other way when it came to any Sexual Activities within that private club. So as the weeks flew by, I found myself witnessing first hand, a great deal of sex acts going on in many different parts of the club. Most were blow jobs performed right out in plain sight. Somehow viewing these as well as a few after hours closed locked doors anal and sucking orgies on the front stage soon had me a bit more than curious! So as my first month ended, I allowed some lavish pink clad queen to suck me off in the back beer storage room. God, I couldn’t believe how wonderful his/her practiced mouth made my nice sized neglected cock feel! No woman had ever come even close to giving me so much wonderful physical pleasure. Soon I found myself getting almost nightly blow jobs during my half hour mid evening breaks. Mostly from Pixie as she choose to call herself while every now than, allowing a few other of the regular CD’s to also suck me off! By this point in time, everyone had openly started calling me Officer Dick! So with each new nightly sex experience, I found myself not only loving it more and more, but also starting to think about actually trying to suck another mans cock! No not the fem acting prancing queens, but rather the bike leather crowd gay faction who all seemed so much more masculine and manly to me. It was one named Butch who I found myself having the most interest in. He was a very dominant type who seemed to be the self appointed leader of that group that called themselves the Top Riders. As our new friendship blossomed over those next few weeks, I confided in Butch about my new gay urges and feelings! He would always laugh and tell me To stop being a sissy and to go for it! Adding he was sure I was going to love switching from women to men! So with my mind finally made up, one Saturday nite after hours, I sat with his bunch and smoked my very first pot ever! Within a short time, I guess I had gotten stoned real good and found myself accompanying Butch into the mens room. Having to rid myself of some of those four or five beers I had just downed, I stood in front of one urnal while Butch pulled up to the other one on my right side. Somehow as I began pissing, I looked over in secret hopes of grabbing a glance at his DIck! An Oh what a majestic oversized Dick Butch had! Even soft it was almost as long and much thicker than my own seven incher when rock hard! After peeling back his pocketed foreskin, Butch just stood there holding it while I was unable to take my eyes off of it! Advertisements God just its sight had me feeling so Strangely Gay and Different than Ever Before! Noticing my interested eyes, Butch smiled while asking me if I’d like to follow him into one of the stalls? Maybe thirty seconds later, I found myself standing along side the open cubicle door while Butch dropped his leather riding pants and sat down. Moving forward a bit on the seat, he let his balls hang down over the front edge of the toilet while that massive cock of his had me completely spellbound as it began to lengthen and thicken into a more than impressive erection! Right then and there, I had already made up my mind to become submissive for him as I stood waiting for some kind of direction? “You know the cocksuckers comode drill by now!” he said to me while adding, “Get on your knees and get busy!” Yes while feeling a bit unsure and a bit afraid, I also felt some building excitement as I knelt down on that hard marble flooring. After weeks of secretly suck fantasizing while jerking myself off alone in my appartment, It was actually going to finally happen! My right hand was slightly shaking as it moved forward to feel a cock other than mine for the very first time ever! A cock so much bigger and so thick then that my hand barely was able to wrap around its girthy shaft. It was like I was helplessly hypmotised in some sexual trance as I began to quite gayly explore a good solid nine inches of then thobbing warm manmeat! Stoned good from both the pot and the beers, all of my resistence or sound reasons were gone as I began to loveingly stroke its entire length. Now as it stood sticking out at a 45 degree upward angle, both of Butchs strong hands together grabbed the back of my head and pulled it downward and forward. Quite willingly and submissively I parted my quivering lips as my flairing nostril inhaled the strong fregrence of Butche’s Big Prick! Then I was actually taseting it as its large oval knobby bulbus head slipped well past my outstretched lips. As my mind raced in the reality that I had Stiff Cock in my mouth, its strong musky like flavor began to sting my tastebuds. Next as I instinctively tightened my lips just beyond Butche’s glans, I felt a new kind of peaceful contentment as if my tongue suddenly had grown a mind of its own. Yes it began to lick warm hard Prickhead that immediately began to throb in response. Now fully beginning to understand the many Thrills and Joys associated with Sucking on A Hot Thick Cock, like every new first time dicklicker, I found myself overrun with wanting yet more of it to worship and sample. Butch told me then to watch my teeth as I began to breathe through my nose. Next those strong hands of his were guiding my head back and forth in three to four inch strokes as it began to Mouth Fuck Me a bit deeper! With each new exciting introduced inch, I found myself feeling so incredibly excited and more turned on. While my slopply novice mouth was making loud sucking noises, I reached down to my uniformed pants to free my own rock hard dick. While I wasnt at all expecting Butch to suddenly remove it from my mouth and to stand up, I did lean back far enough so that it now was nearly level with my lower face. His deep voice was firm and in total control as he ordered me to “Suck It Like a Bitch in Heat!” Having shed every last ounce of my pride or shame, I became Butches Toilet Stall Blow Boy as I crudely but greedily began to deeply mouth that magnifficent Dick of his! God how alive and sexual I felt as my head began to bob like it was a mouth cunt made just for Butches selfish pleasure. When his head found my tight throat opening, he told me to relax and not to even think about trying to swollow as I began to slightly gag in relex. Then almost magically, his powerful hips suddenly thrust forward as it was rammed right down my throat. For maybe 10 seconds, Butch left it in all the way as I felt his hairly balls resting on the cleft of my chin. Then he withdrew most of it to only again shove it all the way home. This made me feel not only proud, but also so Wonderfully Submissive as well. Yes I was then loving Giving Head more than anything I could ever remember. Now Butch became quite verbal as he told me He had a Big four day old Hot Load that my new Faggot Mouth was just going to Love! “COME ON YOU SUBMISSIVE COP COCKSUCKER”, “SUCK IT REAL GOOD BOY” ‘GO AFTER MY BIG HOT FOUL SOUPY LOAD” “OH YEAH BITCH” “KEEP THAT UP AND YOUR GONNA HAVE TO DO SOME FAST SWOLLOWING” Butches words then only servered to excite me yet greater. Now not onlywas the reality that I submissively sucking on a gigantic thick stiff cock turning me on, but also the fact that the he soon would be forcing me to take his big hot load as well. Both thoughts excited me greaty durning those next few minutes before the feel of thick warm wetness began to sting my tastebuds. God Butch was shooting off right inside of my mouth and just like the many Fem Queens I viewed over the past several weeks, I too was loving it and allowing it to really happen. Sex stories: My teacher and me After blasting himself off to a long enjoyable Cum. Butch only smiled down at me before stepping aside and leaving that often used Suck Stall. Remaining on my knees, I freed my own rock hard dick and with eyes closed, jacked for no more than a minute before getting off a great long lasting powerful feeling load. Yes the taste of three quarters of a mouth full of fresh strong biker sperm only served to excie and enhance my wonderful climax. That night I hung in the mens room forgetting and neglecting my duties. Word had gotten out around the main room about Officer Dicks sudden emergence into a toilet stall Cocksucker. Yes it was mix of both Leather clad bikers as well as Drag queens that I took on for nearly two wonderful action packed hours. Later a popular older club Queen named Sherry Beth took me out for coffee and then to her place to talk to me until well after the sun had come up. I was totally amazed when she told me that with the right makeup and clothing, I would make an almost passable Cross Dresser. Somehow this triggered a strange new curiousity on my part. Yes while she only briefly did up my face that morning. I was mezmerized at how different looking at myself in her dressing mirror made me feel inside. Now with my buzz completely vanished, I sucked her small cock off to full competion loving the lip stick marks my many quite fem planted kisses had left on it. Yes after weeks of curious thoughts and strange new gay feelings, I had given in and had discovered that Gay Sex was far more exciting and erotic to me than any of my many past expericence with woman had been. Seeking yet more stimulation while working, a few nights later under my uniform security pants, I wore a pair of tight fitting pink thongs that had my cock hard most of the night. During my half hour breaks, I too became a rest room stall Cocksucker! While the anal part of gay sex didnt seem to interest me at all. I had become fully addicted cocksucker who couldnt wait the hit the club five nights a week. Loving to suck mensroom cock while wearing bright red or pink glossy lipstick, soon all the regular members and staff were calling me Officer PeterMaid instead of Officer Dick. Soon besides wearing womans panties, I also wore nylon stockings under my uniform pants. Oh how great and electric their silk tightness felt tightly clinging to my legs. More and more I found myself attracted to the always numerous Club Cd Queens, Ts”s and Tv’s. I found great excitement in viewing their wide variety of many different sexy fem outfits! Yes often I would go to Shelly Beths apartment and loved it when she would do a make up job on me and let me wear some of her vast wardrobe of Femmine attire. Yes Shelly much rather preferred taking stiff cock in her Bitch pussy rather than in her mouth. So as a reward for her making me up and dressing me, I began to fuck her tight smooth bitch pussy quite often! One night she even gave me a wonderful rim job and then used her tiny finger to introduce me into the vast joys of anal pleasure. I liked it so much , that two nights later in an out of town Porn shop, I bought myself both a small butt plug as well as a very narrow soft latex anal vibrator. Yes soon besides my cock craving mouth, I had a second hole that also craved and enjoyed firm round sex toy penetration! Now was added another sexual article under my uniform trousers. Yes shear hose, sexy panties and a inserted butt plug to make my asshole feel so alive and wonderful each and every work night. Needing far more pay to make ends meet, Mr. Henderson let me also fill a part time bartenders position! Within a month in which I loved and took to it like a duck to water, I became one of the two main night bartenders and was earning almost as much money as I had when on the Police force. Most in tax free tips! Yes no longer a secuity guard, I was far more happy as I could spend my time socializing instead of patroling the lounge or checking IDS! Now with my hair much much longer than my former required police force short haircuts, I had both ears pierced and began to wear both sets of ear rings Shelly Beth had loaned me. Also just enough lipstick to show I was gay and had a fem side to me. Next came light but detectable brow liner and within a month, enough makeup to leave no doubts I had become the clubs newest queen! Yes after work many a night, I would allow my self to be picked up by regulars or customers that I found interesting and quite Sexy! One of the first was a friendly stranger name Bob who put the make on me all night long. I found him quite attractive and loved the way he was always checking out my fairly round ass. In fact by closing time, he had made it clear that he would love to take me back to his motel room and fuck the shit out of me till daylight. Bob was a married businessman from the mid west who had such a sexy accent. Yes more than long overdue to take my first real cock up my ass, I let Bob pick me up and take my to his room. Bob’s cock was more than perfect as he waisted little time stripping down bare ass naked. Perhaps not quite six inches, it was slender with a small head that I know wouldnt be the least bit painful in deflowering me. Sex stories: First time skinny dipping Bob loved my lavendar panties and black fishnets. After only a few minutes of submissivelly sucking his lovely dick from my knees, he couldnt wait to mount me doggy style. Oh how wickidly naughty and aroused I was as I got on all fours at the end of his hotel bed and stuck my naked excited soon to become a pussy ass out over its end. Yes at last instead of rubber or latex, I was going to finally get the real deal! How heavenly were those ten exciting minutes for me! Such wonderful discoveries of new feelings as my sensitive nerve endings delivered such divine sparks of pleasure from the friction of Bob’s stiff two way sliding dick. Yes I found getting fucked was every bit as Erotic and Enjoyable as Sucking Cocks had ever been for me. Waiting some 40 minutes for Bob to get it up again was well worth the wait, as it took him over half a hour of screwing before his second load arrived. To celebrate my having become a full fledged Cock Bitch, that very next night I showed up at work in full drag! Shelly Beth had spent well over an hour on my complete makeover transformation. Wearing her favorite white button down silk blouse with a nicely matching pink short mini, my freshly shaved legs looked stunning in her carefully selected white flowertopped fishnets. A pair of size 12 two inch black patten leather pumps finished off my street clothes while below them I wore a shear set of matching silver panties and bra that has cost Shelly Beth a small fortune. With my eye lids masked heavily in a med shade of blue mascaria, my now long jet black eye lashes really stuck out! The lipstick Shelly Beth had chosen was a glossy soft off tone pink that seemed to match perfectly with the long golden blonde wig Shelly had carefully chosen. With it being my one short four hour workshift to work per week, eleven clock rolled around fairly fast I removed my bar apron and became a customer. Already a host of the regulars had hit on me as I found myself being bought drinks by them right and left. By midnight, I was so carefree and felt so wildly sexy as well! Unknown to me then, Butch and his gang of the Leather Tops had planned a special private party at their large rented club motorcycle garage! Yes myself, Shelly Beth and Clitty Cock Chantel as she liked to call herself, were the three carefully chosen Bitches of the Night! With seven bottom pretty boys also on that special invite list, 10 of us cocksuckers and cocklovers arrived just before one am. along with some 26 different tops into many kinds of Gay Fettishes. Yes leather types, muscle men, jocks, skinheads, masters and even a few normal dressed men all offered us a wide varitey of exciting male meat to choose from! With the flirting, drinking and drugs all done back at the club, little time was waisted once Spider chained the front garage door shut from the inside! Such electrical engery seemed to be flowing from everywhere as a few already stiff cocks were openly exposed. One was seated sidesaddle on a full dressed harley as Clitty Cock Chantel quicky made her way over to it. Soon she was kneeling with it deep embeded inside of her brightly painted fem lips. Almost instantly, two of that bikers club brothers moved in to explore Chantels very sexy well rounded pettite inviting ass. Yes her skirt quickly found it way up to cover one side of that harleys handle bars as her white silk bikini panties were hurridly removed. Soon she was lifted back up on her feet and was bent over sucking side saddle cock while Bruno slipped on a lubed skin and moved in behind her. Dam how hot I felt watching from perhaps 12 feet away. Then looking around, I viewed five different cocks being taken into five diffferent submissive gay mouths. This while viewing Shelly Beith sitting sideways in Buches lap while heavily making out with him. All night long I had felt so wonderfully attractive and sexy and popular in my brand new cross dressing role! Why now was I being totally ignored and so much alone? All around that garage were so many men or girly boys engaged in wide open lustful homosexual acts ! So much sucking was going on as well a few hot backdoor fucks. It was then that Spider came over to me. He told me many of the Leather Tops were going to party with me a bit later on. I almost fainted when he told me he wanted to have me strip down to my sexy lingerie and go for a ride with him on the back of his Harley Chopper which he planned on riding ball assed naked! If I wasn’t a bit tipsy, I would have certainly never even considered it at all. However after smoking half a joint with spider, I weakend and somehow agreed. Soon a completely naked Spider was kickstarting his chopped Sportster with I care folded Shelly Beths borrowed blouse and skirt and put them safely aside. I guess the sudden sounds of Spiders roaring 1250 cc engine alerted the garage. While Butches younger cousin Frenchy unchained and opened one of the front garage doors, everyone seemed to stop and began to watch. Just before sitting on the back of Spiders custom two level seat, a smiling Shelly Beth suddenly walked up to me while holding a med sized already lubed butt plug! She told me that Butch personally wanted me to put it up my ass so I would never forget my Erotic Ride and be fully ready and hot for the gang bang that awaited me upon Spiders return. Looking over, Butch was then wearing a broard smile as he motioned for me shove that toy up my ass and to climb aboard! Never having taken anything so dam thick up my almost new pussy ass, I let Shelly Beth take off her silver panties and bent over. Yes it felt so dam big and wide and caused me some pain before its large thick girth slipped beyond my tight stubborn spinchter rim muscle. Next I felt those unmistable Harley vibrations as I centered my ass on the back of the seat and tightly wrapped both arms around Spiders waist! “Hold on tight honey! ” he said before reveing the motor and releasing the cluch. Over the powerful motor noises, I heard a few low cheers as the I felt the cool night air hitting my face and half naked body! Sex stories: My wife bought me a massage God how queer and feminine I felt as Spider weaved his way around those city streets never once stopping for a stop sign or red light! That dido felt so wonderful inside of my turned on ass which was receiving such stimulating Harley vibrations! Perhaps ten exciting minutes had passed before I saw the flashing blue lights of the cruiser in both of Spiders rear view mirrors. As Spider pulled his Sportster over to the curb, my Erotic Ride had instantly changed to one of complete fear and terror! Both grinning cops I had known well during my time on the force. Neither had the sightest clue to who I really was! They referred to me Gay Lady Gidiva while calling Spider Nude Keinevil. With no licience or regestration to show identy or ownership, they were going to run us both in and call a tow truck before I pleaded for mercy. With no real choice, I identified myself to them. Both had to take several deep long looks before breaking out in laughter! Yes they let us go but not before a few lewd remarks which included telling the entire dept. how Officer Dick Murphy had turned into a Drag Queen. Yes tears were flowing from both of my heavily made up eyes as that Harley again came to life and did a U turn to get back to the Leather Tops garage. Upon our arrival, Spider spun his tale which everyone took with a great degree of laughter. Climbing off I sought out Shelly Beth and wanted to go home as quickly as possible. Removing that butt plug from my ass, I threw it in a cruddy looking tash can and went to get my blouse and skirt. However both were gone from where I had left them and one of the few visable Top Riders told me they were in the back clubhouse room along with Shelly Beth. Yes after knocking on the locked door and identifying myself, I was admitted into almost total darkness not knowing that nine stiff biker cocks were awaiting my tight nearly virgin ass or my now recently converted cocksucking bitch mouth. After unseen hands guided me along several feet, the lightswitch was hit and I found myself almost completely surrounded by the main core of the Top Riders. Looking beyond them, I spotted Shelly Beth completely passed out. Her expensive nylons were full of long runs and her bra was ripped and hanging down with only one of her intact shoulder straps keeping it from falling off of her. I felt instant fear as those lewd grins each one wore had Gang Bang written all over them. Butch seemed so different than his regular self. Much more hardline and cruel as he infomed me that after six or so stiff cocks got my tight pussy to open up and fully respond, His big cock was going to fully brand me as his FEM FAGGOT FUCK FORMER PIG! Dressed in only my garter belt, fishnet hose and Shelly’s silver bra, I began to shiver as they moved in on me. Yes they were going to take me rough and selfishly as I began to pleas for mercy and understanding. It wasover an old faded tan couch arm that my lower tummy was laid as the open hand spanking of my exposed ass cheeks began. Yes stinging non stop hard slaps that soon had me squirming and kicking to try to escape. But so many strong hands were holding me down in place. Yes dispite having taken advanced lessons while back on the force, I was destined without hope to be used any way they chose. Yes totally unknown to me, most of them had served some time behind bars, they were true cop haters and certainly not my friends. Since my very first day at the club as a secuity guard, this night of revenge had been well planned and looked forward to. Yes Butch had turned me into a cocksucker and along with his cousin Shelly Beth, I was blindly lead down the path leading to homosexuality. Slowly turned into a Queer Queen who truly deserved to be brutally fucked up the ass. Yes I was in pure hell taking those first three stiff punishing bareback pricks up my ex cop ass. But somehow somewhere along the line, began to start liking it both physically and mentally as well. My moans had switched from moans of pain to moans of enjoyed pleasure. The madder they got, the most savagely my ass was pounded which only served to excite me yet greater! By the time a very pissed off Buch mounted me from behind, I had ejaculated twice without even being touched. Yet my ex cop cock remained rock hard as his giant mushroom cockhead rammed 10 inches of my sensitive bowel linings in bliss! I began to beg him to fuck me harder, faster and deeper. I told him how I loved his big balls bouncing off of my backside. I guess after five more minutes Butch gave up and actually went soft on me. I did offer to suck him off and recieved a hard back handed bitch slap across my face. So I was allowed to wake up Shelly Beth and gather up as much of her clothing as we could find. On the way home she cried telling me she was Butches cousin and was so terribley sorry to have betrayed our friendship. So soon after at the club, I took up with the hard core B@D or S@M fettish groups. Yes rough sex fit my needs so perfectly. Soon I met and became a Slave to Mistress Mago, a tall man hater who loved strap on sex with sissies. Yes while I’m nothing more that a sissy slut pig, I love my new lifestyle and have never been happier. Oh yes a few times I’ve been pulled over and asked by a grinning cop Whats up! Hey fuck them all as far as I’m concerned. To each his own. So tell me, “What turns you on the most? ”

The post Going from being a Cop to becoming a Sissy Cocksucker appeared first on Desi Stories.

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[myeyesareonlyforyou]

Eren let out a low laugh that sounded to soft to be sarcastic, Eren trusted Commander to stay put as he reached up with his now free hand to touch his eyes underneath the shades.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I’ve always had weak eyes it’s a miracle I even lived this long. When I was small I got hit by a car I some how manage to survived and a lot of people blame me for the accident since I was the one who walked out on to the street when the lights were green. I did not know, and I caused a lot of trouble. I suppose it taught me a lesson, no matter how many doctor I went to get my eyes fixed it was impossible. The news were always so dark. I got scared. I kept to myself a lot. I didn’t even leave the house I was home schooled mostly. But, I wanted to become a doctor you know. I wanted to give to people that there are ways to go around their limitation. Mine were my eyes. Others, like myself had either lost a limb or their voice. Or their hearing and a lot either have a learning disability or a handicap. It was a lot easier after a while to understand that a lot of people put up a fight even when it doesn’t seem like it.”

Eren removed his fingers from his eyes to resume holding on to the leash that commander put back into his hand silently. Eren smiled down at Commander.

“I’m sure I am just rambling….and it may not even be the answer you seek. But, two years ago I got hit by another car scared my baby to death so bad I try not to go anywhere without him. This car accident taught me the fear of the unknown. To me the world of lights is a big endless and dangerous place to be and it can be quite scary too. I may not show it because I’m so use to it and 90 percent of it is due to being stubborn…” Eren turned his head to face Levi grinning a little bit.

“I’m really really really reallllllly stubborn and hot headed. I hate being weak so I’ve learned to adapted into the next best thing. I rely heavily on my other senses. Sounds, touch, taste, and my sixth sense became my new best friend. Counting also helps me out a lot. As well as touch, so if I touch you please don’t be alarm. I can’t see but, I’m good at sensing things so please try and bare with me. I do mean it when I say I don’t care if I have my sight back or not. All I want now is for the pain to go away. I’d rather be blind for the rest of my life than to cower underneath the light. Even if you got to remove them both then please by all mean. Take them out. I want to walk underneath the sun holding my babies hand then miss out any more events. I’m a strong man so even if I don’t have eyes and even if I do end up alone when my baby leave the nest. I know I can take care of myself. After all Jaeger’s lives an extremely long lives.”

Eren felt the hand Levi was holding squeezing his the sound of his heart beating a sad melody.

Eren offer a cheerful smile, “Please, don’t be sad. That was not my intent, You really are too kind for your own good. You do know that right? If I had someone like you to marry then my existent would double in it’s meaning. I have Armin of course but, it’s not like I can marry my own son. That be too weird.” Eren replied laughing.

“What do you mean? You’ve never had any one who-”

Eren shook his head no, “When you asked me if I had a girlfriend before. I told you yes. Both girlfriend and boyfriends. But, not one of them gave me the connection of intimacy. Sure they lust for me but, that was just it… Lust and greed. I’m a rich and a bit powerful man I suppose but, if I didn’t have that. There would be a big divorce sign over my head or worse case scenario i could be on one of those men who gets killed for their life insurance. Just thinking about it has me lived the single life of a bachelor. And right now, I’m content with that it just means Armin will get a lot of attention from me. I’mma spoil him so much he wants to get away.”

Just as he said that the door behind them opens up and a drunk person stumbles out. Eren didn’t frown or show any reaction when the stench came closer to them.

Commander shifted to move behind him, he was relax and that was enough to keep Eren relaxed. Although his companion is standing tall ears pointed and at alert he made no noise.

“Well, that’s enough about me. It should be time for the kiddos to come back now. Do you want to go get them? Or should I send Commander to go fetch?”

The word fetch had the the dog ear twitch back and forth waiting for the command to come after fetch.

“Send Commander, your eyes should be getting better now. I’ll call in so we will have a spot. And Eren?”

Eren cock his head to him with an innocent hm?

“Want to go on a date with me?”

Eren resisted the urge to blink, because after he said that he was swearing. 

‘Awh, he’s flustered.’

 Eren giggled, “Okay! Where too?”

That caused Levi to pause as if he haven’t been expecting that but, then he straighten up. “Somewhere nice. I want it to be a surprise though is that okay?”

Eren thought about it, “As long as you tell Armin where I’m going then it should be fine. Don’t worry I won’t ask where I am going since you told me it be a surprise. But, I don’t like the idea of leaving Armin home alone….so how about your kids and Armin’s childhood friend spend the night at my place. Private injured her wings so she’s staying at home. So..”

Eren felt something soft on the back of his hand before he sense a smile on Levi’s face.

“Sounds like a plan, since my kids wants to get to know Armin this sounds like an excellent idea. We can even give them a heads up on the planned picnic with the four legged kids.”

Eren returned the smile, “Sounds great.”

Before they could keep talking Commander released a hard bark that made Eren jump right out of skin. He turned around to notice the stench of beer and since Commander is giving off a warning bark he shifted his stance.

“Commander?”

Levi was pulling him back gently it was as if he was placing himself in front of him. Since Eren couldn’t open his eyes he had to guess by the silence that something was wrong.

The voice spoke it was male of course, by the way he was walking he was heavy. He’s wheezing too but, it didn’t sound like he was panting. Perhaps a heart disease. It made that awful gurgling sound and since he’s been drinking it’s only making it worse. Like the oxygen is lacking.

Eren placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder,

“Levi?”

He didn’t respond but, the male did.

“Two fagots fooling around in the dark huh, disgusting.”

Eren closed his mouth,

“That car should have killed you. Fucking fags are popping out all over the place. Back in my day a faggot like you would‘ve of just gotten beaten.”

Eren hums his reply. So he even eased dropped on them, talk about a lack of privacy.

“I believe it’s none of your business rather I date a woman or a man, they are all the same to me. One can give the same amount of pleasure regardless of the gender. And the last time I checked. I’ve never lain with anyone so you have no right to call me of such an offensive language. In the language of this land I believe I am a so called virgin. So there.”

That only made him madder and before he can take another step to him, his knees buckled forward and the scent of the ocean breeze came to tickle his nose. Eren smiled brightly.

“Don’t you dare call my daddy a faggot you over sized fat shit of lard.”

Eren gasp at the language.

Armin put his heeled boots on the man face digging his heels in,

“I’m in a foul mood Mister so how about we play?”

He pressed his boots down harder causing the male to scream he made him howl a few more times before he gave a cruel stomp to the balls between this fat bastard thigh. Eren rushed to get him and pull him off but that just made his Armin get close and person to that person ears. Armin pulled the guy hair so he was raised up high enough for Armin lips to be near his ear.

“You come anywhere near my daddy again.”

Armin grip tighten in his hair despite Eren trying to declawed him from the grown man.

‘The next head I make fly will be yours.’ His lips were moving but, the words he spoke were pushed into the male thick skull. Slowly his crimson eyes dyed back into be a bright beautiful blue hues.

“Baby, let go. He didn’t hurt me. He was just drunk. Nothing serious.”

Armin let go of him after yanking a patch of hair from the poor guy.

“Did you just pulled a patch of hair from him? I heard a rip??”

Armin raised up to wrap his arms around his daddy neck. He dropped the strands of hair away from daddy.

“Nu uh, I didn’t. You sure you’re not hurt? I heard yelling? And why were you alone with Levi?”

Eren tilt his head down to look at him.

Armin corrected himself immediately, “I mean why were you alone with Dr. Levi…or Mr. Levi?”

Eren smile then, “To answer you first question yes, I am sure. I am not hurt at all. You did hear yelling but, the man was clearly drunk. He smelled way to drunk to know what he did when he comes around. And you can call him either Dr. or Mr. It’s polite and respectful. I left to go get some air, Levi kept me company outside since it was dangerous to be in the dark. We were talking about where we wanted to go eat at. I hope you don’t mind but, I picked Olive garden.”

Armin twitched at that. it’s his favorite…

Armin looked over to Levi… then back to daddy. Since he couldn’t drive and daddy sure as hell can’t drive that only means that the whole gang was coming to eat dinner with them. Mike was the one to drive them there…..it sucked yeah, but olive garden was olive garden…..

“Let’s go.”

Before Eren put him down he was sniffing him and Armin had to ward him off. Eren easily got his hand though his weak defense and touched his face feeling his cheeks and touching underneath his eyes.

Eren didn’t say anything he didn’t have too, he silently gave him kisses and snuggled him.

Armin hugged him tight smiling, he then put Eren fingers to his lips to let him know he was still smiling.

That made Eren smile before setting him down.

“Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

He took Armin by the hand, Commander was in front of him as always he forgot he was there since he’s been so quiet. Levi took his other hand although Eren looked back to where the male was on the ground out cold. Eren felt bad and asked if they could put him back inside. They did, before they left.

Eren went back to Mike’s car with Armin and Commander who insist on being a cat to go through his legs causing him to trip. It was almost as bad as Commander racing him up and down the stairs,

“Commander….for peep sake please, not in the parking lot.”

Armin pushed the German Shepherd into the car before guiding himself in the Passenger side in the back seat. Armin sat in the front passenger side.. talking back and forth between myself and Mike. It was great that they were getting along better now. It made him smile as he stroke Commander face with both hands.

The drive to Olive garden was peacefully and fun with the playful bantering back and forth.

[angelinaneblinawebsite-blog]

falling out of love with fashion

In the fourth grade, I made a single Microsoft Powerpoint slide featuring a low-res photograph of racks of colorful clothing with a gold gradient oval overlay that read “F.I.T.” in a classic Microsoft Office script font. My teacher had directed us to make a slideshow about our futures as an end-of-the-year project. Naturally, I dedicated all of the allotted time to making a single perfect slide to reflect where I belonged: the Fashion Institute of Technology. I had already taken the virtual tour, this was my big break. I did everything in my power to secure my place in the world of fashion. I took advanced art classes, pre-college courses, and doodled constantly. Then, in my sophomore year of high school, I found myself in a slump.

Art is deeply personal, and its quality is entirely subjective. I felt that my work wasn’t very strong, and I was losing my passion for creating it. My justification for wanting to design clothing had been that I didn’t see fashion that reflected my style, so I wanted to change that. This wasn’t a misguided thought: Mohandas Gandhi said himself that you should be the change you wish to see in the world. There was a flaw in my reasoning, though: my idea of appealing fashion existed, I just needed to make it more popular. This launched my interest into the realm of marketing and business.

Towards the end of my reflective sophomore year, a guidance counselor stopped by my English class to discuss course selection for the following year. As I began to flip through the guide given to us, I stumbled across a page dedicated to the programs available through a partnership with a vocational school in my county. My eyes darted directly to the words “Fashion Design & Merchandising”.

Was this real life? Was there actually a program tailored exactly to my needs? My hand shot up into the air.

“What is it?” the guidance counselor said, looking slightly annoyed at my enthusiasm. It must have been a long day.

“What is this program?” I asked, pointing fervently to what I had found.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a technical career program, talk to your guidance counselor about it if you’re interested.” She didn’t seem too impressed.

As soon as the bell rang, I ran downstairs to do exactly that. During my conversation with my counselor, I began to see why her co worker wasn’t thrilled about my discovery. The kids who did this program had reputations for being unmotivated and in need of academic intervention. I was not one of these kids, and I didn’t care. In fact, I thought that it was unfair how a career training program was associated with laziness, considering the sheer amount of time and effort it takes to gain certifications in certain trades.

After visiting the school and meeting my prospective teacher, I applied for the program and was accepted. It began a few days before the rest of my class started their junior year. I had no free periods and only twenty minutes to eat my lunch/watch out for the bus that took me and roughly six or seven other students to what essentially became our second school.

Upon entering the school, I was greeted by a security guard with a thick Jamaican accent.

“How you doin’?” he’d say, holding the door open for me.

Initially, my teacher would be waiting for me at her desk because she taught the same class in the morning. That class was eventually dissolved because of low enrollment, and after a month or so, she would be late every day because she would come from a different school.

My teacher was a middle-aged Puerto Rican, Southeast Asian woman who had  kind eyes and a fake laugh. She had been a head designer for a men’s luxury athletic-wear company for two decades prior to the start of her teaching career. When I first visited, she said all the right things. My class was going to sew, create mood boards, cut patterns, design clothing lines, etc. I was going to be well versed in the fashion world in no time--or so I thought. Her kind eyes had nothing behind them.

Classmates trickled in over the next few weeks, each one bringing a bit of diversity to the group. Three of them were seniors completing the second half of the program in order to secure college credit and a certification to work in retail. There were ten of us in total from all over the county, I was the only one from my town. One young lady in particular took a liking to me and insisted that we work and sit together all the time.

The only reason I’m going to assign this character a name is because she was instrumental in my demise. Let’s call her Patricia.

Patricia was from a relatively upscale town in the county. Her skin was a a beautiful dark shade of brown, similar to that of Naomi Campbell, who I assume was one of her idols. She was too short to be a runway model, so she did commercial modelling. Her hair was short, and she wore over-the-knee boots often. Her mother was Belgian or French or something, and I believe French was her first language.

I put up with Patricia for a while. I wasn’t making any other friends. I bonded with one young lady over Nicki Minaj and our shared Aries-ness, but she dropped out of the class before the halfway point of the first quarter.

Gradually, I became impatient with Patricia and felt it best I work alone. In doing so, I missed the chance to open up to my peers and form connections. As the year went by, though, I realized that that was how it ought to have been.

There were about ten of us in the class, roughly four young men and six young women. Conversations often surrounded controversial topics, and my teacher had to address the class multiple times. I steered clear of these and abided by the rules on the “Professional Conduct” sheet posted above the whiteboard that I had made the design for myself. The rules were simple: Stay on task, avoid inappropriate conversations, and be diligent in your work. This was, after all, supposed to be treated like a workplace. They don’t call it career training for nothing.

I won’t comment on the quality of my classmates’ work because like I said: art is entirely subjective. I will, however, point out that my technique was more advanced, which was to be expected, considering I had an immense amount of experience in drawing fashion figures. Between my skill level and determination to follow the rules, I achieved the highest grade in the class and was nominated to be the “Student of the Quarter”, which meant I got to miss some of my class to attend a brunch. My parents were invited, too. I also earned a perfect attendance award.

My mental health was deteriorating, though. There were constant arguments in my classroom. I began to dread seeing the bus pull into the roundabout in front of my school. One argument in particular struck a chord with me.

Another key player in this story is a young man who we’ll call Randy.

Randy sounded like Drake and tried to act like him, too. He sagged his pants, though, and was a raging homophobe. Every day I would hear the phrase “that’s gay” come out of his mouth. I knew what he meant, but he didn’t say what he meant, and instead chose to use a word intended to be positive as an insult. He made the argument that gay people are raised to be homosexual, and that they’re not born that way. As a matter of fact, he’d seen a study that confirmed this belief.

At this point, I had been an active member of the New York Catholic Forensics League Student Congress, and was doing extensive research about everything from Sub Saharan African infrastructure to the American electoral college. I was hearing eloquent speeches that were cited accurately on a weekly basis, so when Randy made this highly uninformed argument, I was unimpressed and offended.

Where was my teacher, you may ask? Doing something more important, I suppose, and letting this hostile environment fester.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped.

“Randy. Randy. Randy.” I said firmly, trying to get his attention. “Stop saying ‘gay’ as if it is an insult, because it’s not. If you mean to say ‘stupid’, say it. Oh, and as someone who has grown up with a gay sibling I can promise you that it is not because she was raised that way.”

He dismissed me and looked away, but everyone else’s eyes were glued to me. I hadn’t addressed anyone in weeks.

“See?” my teacher exclaimed from her desk. “I told you someone would be offended.”

Later that evening I received a direct message on Instagram from Patricia apologizing for Randy’s actions. I wonder where her remorse was when he was being blatantly homophobic. 

There were several instances of bigotry in that classroom, some too painful to recount. It got to the point where I would literally cry on the bus to and from the vocational school.

I loved the curriculum, everything about it. I felt like I was in my element when the main perpetrators weren’t present. When they were, though, I was often anxious and upset. My teacher eventually stopped intervening altogether.

Around May, I started listening more carefully to the subject matter of the boy chatter. They were always talking about how young women were “valid” or “thick”--that is, young women on Instagram and Snapchat. Other times, they would call young women “ugly” or “too skinny”. Another young man, similar to Randy, but mostly to-himself said “fag” or “faggot” in regards to other young men he was either friends with or knew of if they way they dressed or acted suggested something about their sexuality. I worked three feet away from where my teacher spent the majority of our classes, at her desk, and I wore headphones with music playing relatively loud. I heard everything these young men were saying loud and clear.

I recall the exact moment that I broke down. It was after Patricia, while looking for her commercial size on a pattern envelope (they’re typically five sizes larger than your retail size), gasped.

“Size SIXTEEN?!” she exclaimed, looking horrified. “That’s HUGE. That is SO BIG. OH MY GOD.”

I was a size sixteen in retail, and a size 26 in commercial. I was huge.

It took many years for me to feel comfortable in my skin as a “plus size” young woman. I was never encouraged to love myself for who I was, rather to slim down to look socially acceptable and to be able to wear certain types of clothing. My self-love came from me, and I wasn’t used to my peers being disgusted by me or my size. Her words were like knives.

I gave her the worst glare imaginable and promptly left to go to the bathroom. I sobbed for a good ten minutes, absolutely hating where I was. It never occurred to me that I could have a bad time doing what I loved, but that’s exactly what was happening. My teacher let all of these things happen without correction, and the environment was incredibly toxic.

Eventually, I returned to the classroom and continued my work. After some time, my teacher called three young women, including myself, over to her desk.

“You know, next year, you girls should sign up for the morning class,” she said in a low voice. “You’re all very quiet, and it would be more productive because there wouldn’t be so much chatter.”

This had to be a joke.

“Angelina, don’t you think so?” she addressed me. “Will you do that?”

There was no way I was returning the next year, but I nodded my head and left for the bathroom again. This was the second time I bawled my eyes out that day, and I knew I would be crying on the bus back, too. I called my mom, but I was crying too hard to get a clear word out.

I visited my guidance counselor for the vocational program a few days later and told her everything, holding back even more tears. She was heartbroken to hear that I wouldn’t be returning, and suggested I try another program. Fashion was it for me, though. I had no interest in Architecture or Commercial Art, and I didn’t particularly like the Commercial Art teacher either.

The director of the entire school, the guidance counselor for the program, and the social working  who was also in charge of enforcing the rules of DASA, or the Dignity for All Students Act that made bullying of most kinds punishable by law visited my classroom and spoke about how the derogatory language was unacceptable, especially in a room of young women. After they left, the young men in my class denied the accusations outright, and for the first time, my vocal female classmates acknowledged that they were always saying vulgar things. Somehow they caught wind that I was the one who had reported what was going on and they thanked me for saying something. It blew my mind how they were always saying gutsy things to these young men, but never once had the nerve to address their foul language.

We had a meeting with the principal, my guidance counselor at the vocational school, my parents, my teacher, and the school social worker.

When asked to elaborate on what had been going on in the classroom, I broke down, but managed to get one phrase out.

“I feel like...there’s a lot of hearing...but no listening,” I said.

What I meant was that my teacher had been telling my class to lower the noise level, but not actually addressing the subject matter of the conversations that were being held and putting an end to them.

“I don’t even hear it,” my teacher scoffed.

She didn’t even hear it.

My mother was furious, as was my father. The administrators, including the social worker who had previously been very friendly with my teacher, were appalled. I couldn’t blame them, it was simple: my teacher was not doing her job. It was her responsibility to intervene and prevent that behavior, and she failed me and every other young person in that classroom.

The month after that was relatively peaceful. A lot of the main perpetrators didn’t show up to school very often. My relationship with my teacher was fine.

On the last day of classes, I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. I left the building in tears of relief and cried the entire bus ride back to my actual school, where I thrived.

I maintained a satisfactory grade in Fashion Design & Merchandising, never falling below a 90. That was by my own accord. Don’t get me wrong, my teacher was an excellent seamstress and made impeccable art, but fell completely flat when it came to having some compassion for me and my classmates. Those young men could have benefited immensely from some discipline, and it was her job to enforce the law, but sexual bullying was occurring right under her nose, and it was ignored. I had to advocate for myself and my female peers who were just as uncomfortable as I was. Ironically, my teacher was editing a brochure for the Women’s March while the whole ordeal was unfolding. She was helping stand up for women all over the country, but not in her own classroom.

The administrators did their jobs, and helped make that place tolerable in my last month or so there. There was catcalling occurring in the hallways before classes started, and I was the only young woman present to witness it because my bus always arrived early, and the administration corrected that immediately.

This wouldn’t have escalated to the point that it did if it had been a real workplace. I learned the importance of professionalism and removing myself from stressful situations in the name of preserving my mental health.

I nearly lost my love for fashion. Just typing that makes my heart ache. It has been my life since I was little, but it became my personal hell as a sixteen/seventeen year old. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, though. Sometimes that has to be learned the hard way.

I’m still going to college for fashion merchandising. I won’t let this awful experience ruin what I’ve worked so hard for. I’m a member of the National Technical Honor Society, I earned that. My determination has been recognized and rewarded on multiple occasions, so I don’t feel unfulfilled in the least.I feel it necessary to share my story, though--not as a cautionary tale, because the other programs at this vocational school are lovely, but rather as inspiration to speak up. As my vice principal says: “Your voice matters”.