#yeah and he's also ford's ex next question

[fairy-of-divorce]

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

AO3 link

Concept Art

Legend of the Gobblewonker (Art)

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3 (previous), The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2 (next), The Inconveniencing, Dipper Vs. Manliness

It had been a couple of days since the Wax Stan fiasco. There wasn't much going on around the Shack apart from the usual tourist groups and the gnomes fighting the local wildlife for trash can rights. Pretty normal stuff. Almost like it had been for the thirty years without the twins around.

Still, the peace couldn't last.

Stan didn't know it at the time, but the next couple of days were about to be more exciting than anything that had happened yet that summer.

And it all started with a television commercial.

Stan grins as the latest tour group gathers around him, all eager to throw their money away into his Mystery Sack. Really, these guys would fall for anything! And they're happy to do it, a few of the older women even going so far as to pinch his cheeks.

It's a weird feeling, having these women look at him like he's adorable or something. Yuck. He's old enough to be their husband. They shouldn't be cooing over him like he was some scamp of a grandson.

He'd never had any old ladies doing this when he really was a kid back in Jersey. They were usually running him off with a broom for stealing pies or something off the windowsill.

Stan plastered his showman smile on as the last lady turned to him, feeling the strain of keeping an act up as she patted his cheek maternally.

"Such a handsome young man," the lady sighs. "And a good son, too ― running this place for your dad. I've met him, you know. The Mystery Shack was a favorite stop of mine when we were younger. I didn't even know Stanford had a son… Is he around?"

The hopeful look in the lady's eyes and the slight pink in her face was enough to keep Stan from bolting into the house. The question felt kind of shady, but he also had vague memories of flirting it up with this particular woman over the years. From dark hair to the silvers he had worn until just recently, she had been around for quite a while.

He still couldn't remember her name.

"Uh, yeah, that's me!" He said as cooly as he could manage, tugging at his collar. Why did the tie suddenly feel suffocating? "Stanford’s son!"

"You said your name was Stan, too, didn't you? At the start of the tour? Are you a junior?" The lady smiled in a way that might have been teasing, but Stan was already shuddering at the thought of being named after his father.

Let Ford have that one all to himself. He was fine with his middle name being his mother's maiden name. Romanoff sounded pretty cool, anyway.

"No! Nononono," he waved his hands frantically. "I'm― Lee! Stanley Pines… The Second! Named after an uncle."

"Aw, how sweet, carrying on a family legacy like that." The lady patted his head once more. "Well, Stanley, tell your father that Dolores is back in town when you see him. Over at the Fall-In Hotel."

Stan felt his ears grow hot. Okay, maybe they hadn't just... flirted it up. More like, if she was around more often, Dolores would have been in line for the next, ex-Mrs. Mystery title.

"You got it, toots." He grinned, winking. Then flinched and backtracked. "I mean, Ma'am. Definitely ma'am. I gotta, uh ― go wash the goat! Bye!"

With the Mystery Sack tucked securely under his arm, Stan bolted for the Shack's backdoor, racing past the stairs to throw himself into his armchair.

"Ugh," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Dealing with an ex like this is the worst."

Soos patted his back sympathetically while the twins, both sprawled out on the floor, turned to look at him curiously.

"You have an old girlfriend outside?!" Mabel squealed with excitement, stars in her eyes.

"Emphasis on the old girlfriend." Stan raised a pointed eyebrow at her and gestured to his face. "She thinks I'm his son. Had to give her a stage name and everything."

Mabel wrinkled her nose. "That's... kind of weird."

"Very weird." Dipper agreed.

"What're we watching?" Stan asked, hiding his money sack beneath the chair cushion for now. He looked at the TV hopefully. "Tiger Fist?"

"We're waiting on the commercials now!" Mabel said brightly.

"Oh, look!" Soos said suddenly, pointing at the TV. "It's that commercial I was telling you dudes about!"

Stan's lip curled with disgust as the advertisement continued to play, Gideon Gleeful's annoyingly shrill tones ringing in his ears. It sounded even worse without his hearing aide muffling the sound. He missed being able to turn it off when he didn't want to listen to people talk.

He sat up enough to unbutton his jacket and toss it in the direction of the coat rack. It was entirely too hot this summer and he wanted out of his pants five minutes ago. He paused in the middle of stripping to stare at the pile of fabric on the ground, wondering why he had done that instead of hanging it up properly.

He always hung his jacket up ― ever since donning his Mr. Mystery persona.

Admittedly, he was a bit messy by nature, but leaving his clothes laying around haphazardly felt entirely too... teenager-ish.

Stan hurried to right his wrong and turned back to the kids in time to hear Dipper voice the desire to check out Gideon's road show.

"No!" Stan barked, face feeling itchy from the mere idea of getting close to the Tent of Telepathy. "Never! You are forbidden from patronizing the competition!"

Soos chuckled at him. "Dude, I can't take you seriously with that face. You're like a baby bear. So cute!”

Stan made a frustrated noise as he stomped up the stairs.

They'd listen to his warnings if they knew what was good for them.

_____________________________________________________________

And, of course, they didn't listen. They were his family ― why would they?

Pines were never good at keeping their noses out from where they didn't belong. (Usually their noses were too big to even bother with trying, but the twins were still growing into theirs.)

With only a quick stop by the Corduroy house to grab Wendy for backup (and boy was it weird, considering Dan didn't recognize Stan and tried giving him the shovel talk about taking Wendy out), Stan arrived at the Tent of Telepathy just in time to miss the show.

Thank Moses. He really didn't want to listen to Gideon sing some cutesy song and do his little dance. It was unsettling.

The only song and dance he ever sat through was that VHS tape of Dipper's Lamby Lamby Dance the twins' mom had sent him. He still had that, somewhere. Probably had the pictures of him holding the newborn twins somewhere, too.

He should really find those things. The kids would probably like to see them.

"Man, that kid's an even bigger fraud than Stan." Dipper was saying as he and Mabel exited the tent. "No wonder our uncle's jealous."

"I'm not jealous of that twerp!" Stan snapped, startling the kids. They looked up at him guiltily, Wendy merely shrugging when they turned to her for help. "I specifically forbade yous two from coming here and you still did it anyway! And what's worse is you dragged Soos along with you ― where is he anyway?"

"He went to get the truck," Dipper mumbled, tugging his cap over his eyes to avoid looking at his uncle.

"Oh, come on, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel smiled at him, eyes wide and sparkling. Oh, boy ― he'd have to stay strong if he wanted to stay angry. "Gideon's dance moves were adorable! And his hair is like, whoosh. Give him a chance!"

Your niece is being duped by this brat, Stanley.

The ideal of her trusting heart being taken advantage of was enough to relight the fire of anger in his heart.

“Absolutely not!" Stan growled, grabbing the twins and throwing them over his shoulder like sacks of potatoes. "We’re going home ― and I don't want to hear anymore about that Gideon brat or ― or I'll ground you!"

"You're pretty serious about that kid," Wendy observed with mild surprise. "Does he really get on your nerves that bad?”

"Doesn't he get on yours?" Stan retorted with a scowl. "I've heard you complain about him stealin' your fancy face lotion enough times to know you can't stand him, either."

Wendy grimaced at the reminder. "Yeah, that shit's expensive."

"Language!"

"Y'know," Wendy continued, ignoring him. She poked his cheek, earning a yelp from him as she pressed on a tender spot. "You could use some skincare yourself. You're breakin' out something bad, man."

"It's a Pines thing," Stan brushed her off, wincing at the itchy feeling overtaking his face. Now that she’d drawn attention to it, it was hard to ignore. "We got oily skin. What can I do about it?"

"Wash your face?" Wendy snorted. "They make specialty stuff for your skin type now. This isn't the sixties."

"I'm not puttin' any snake oil on my face, Wendy."

"I'll bring you some face wash tomorrow, Maybe a face mask, too."

"Oooh," Mabel perked up. "Spa day?"

"Don't even think about it, pumpkin.” Stan ordered sternly, pointing his finger at her as he deposited the twins in the El Diablo. "Yous guys are on house arrest ― we're not doing anything fun tomorrow except givin' tours and flossing tourists!"

___________________________________________________________

Wendy brought the face masks.

"I think this might even be more fun than my idea of bedazzling my face!" Mabel exclaimed happily, patting her panda mask into place.

Stan glowered at the TV, sat firmly in his chair with his arms crossed. He might have made an imposing figure, if not for the cat mask he was wearing. It was cold and sticky and smelt like plants.

His house was in the middle of the woods ― wasn't that enough nature for his body?

"That sounds like a painful idea." Dipper shot an amused look at his sister, to which she just sighed.

"I'm unappreciated in my time," she mourned, earning a pat on the back from Wendy. The redhead in question was wearing a dog mask and was watching Dipper like a wolf. There was still one face mask left and one blank slate left for her to work with.

Stan was actually looking forward to seeing if she could convince Dipper to go along with them or if Wendy would have to wrestle the boy down to put the product on his face. 

Which was how she'd strong-armed Stan into participating.

Seriously ― she'd put him into a headlock and slapped the mask on him while he was choking.

It would have been impressive ― if he wasn't so humiliated by it.

She would have never even thought about it if he'd still had his old man body!

Ding! Dong!

Stan glanced over his shoulder at the door, moving to take off his mask.

Wendy slapped his hand down and glared at him.

"Fifteen minutes." She reminded him sternly. 

He growled in frustration.

"It could be a tour group!" he protested. "I can't give a tour like this!"

"It could also be a salesman or something." Wendy rolled her eyes. "You're not getting out of this yet, man."

"Wendy..."

"I'll get it!" Mabel volunteered easily, hopping off Stan's lap where she'd been pinning him into place. "If it's a tourist, I'll scream really loud so you can get ready!"

Well, Mabel didn't end up screaming, but Stan thought that she should have.

From the first twangs of a Southern accent floating through the front door, Stan felt his blood pressure spike.

He threw himself out of the armchair, no longer worrying about Wendy and her face masks, and bolted for the door.

Gideon smiled up at him in a false show of innocence.

"Why, hello there! I'm Lil―"

Stan snatched Mabel back and slammed the door in Gideon's face.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel cried out in shock, staring at him with the most wounded face he'd ever seen from her before. "Why did you do that?"

This was no accident, Stan! You did this!

Stan grimaced and shook his head to dislodge the unwanted memory. He fixed his glare on his niece and fought to stay in the moment.

This was a problem in the present, not the past.

"I'm not going to let that little fake lead you on, Mabel." He said sternly and crossed his arms. "He's no good."

"He's adorable and appreciates my style!" Mabel retorted hotly. "I'm just trying to make a friend. This is my summer vacation! I'm supposed to be out riding bikes and doing stupid stunts without adult supervision."

"You'd rather run off with a stranger than hang out with your family? You were just having fun putting slime on my face, in case you forgot!"

Mabel deflated slightly. "It was nice to do something I like with you and Wendy... but you're such a sour puss about it! Gideon actually likes doing stuff like this..."

Stan slumped, sighing. He ruffled her hair gently and pulled her into a hug.

"I'll try to keep the complaints down." Stan said quietly. "But no promises! I never did anything like this as a kid and it's strange to me. I― I never had friends as a kid, just a brother. And boys back then would've been in hot water for doing girly stuff like this. There ain't nuthin' wrong with it and takin' care of yourself. But the world was a lot more small-minded. Even for those free lovin' hippies."

He shuddered at the reminder of a certain long-haired guitarist.

"Yeah, I guess you and Grandpa would have been doing other stuff when you were my age." Mabel smiled weakly at him. "Kinda like us now. He's older than you, too. It must be weird being the 'teen' role model instead of being the little brother, huh?"

Stan's brow furrowed and he wondered how Shermie got pulled into the conversation.

He'd been so much older than them, so Stan and Ford didn't bond with him like―

Never had friends... Just a brother.

Stan froze.

Oh. Oh shit.

Ohnonono.

"Pretty weird kiddo." He said hollowly, ushering her back into the living room with Wendy and Dipper. He could feel his control slipping by the second and he knew he only had moments before he broke. Already his chest felt tight. "I gotta go ― make a phone call! Berightback!" 

As soon as Mabel crossed the threshold of the room, Stan turned on his heel and bolted for his bedroom.The door slammed behind him and he sank down against it, burying his fingers in his hair.

Oh, sweet Moses ― he'd nearly ruined it all!

He was grateful, for what seemed like the first time in his life, to have another brother.

All his life, Shermie had felt more like a stranger to Stan than a sibling. Too old to play with his dumb baby brothers, then away at war while his wife and son crashed at the pawn shop. Then Stan was on the streets and Shermie moved across the country to Washington. He hadn't even come to 'Stanley's' funeral.

In fact, the last time Stan had seen his oldest brother was nearly thirteen years ago when the younger twins were born. They'd sat together outside the NICU, sharing anxious looks as they waited to hear if Dipper was going to live through the night after the complications he'd been born with. Shermie and Stan had even shared a relieved hug after they found out the boy was going to be fine and Shermie shared a story about something similar that had happened with Stanford and Stanley.

Not only had the Stan twins shared a placenta, but Stanley had been breached. While the nurses were quietly, exclaiming over Stanford's extra fingers and shooting nervous looks at Filbrick, who had forced his way into the delivery room, the doctors had converged on Caryn and were discussing the possibility of surgery to help deliver the second twin.

Stanley, however, was impatient and didn't take being separated from his twin well, even as an infant.

There hadn't even been enough time to unlock the brakes on the hospital bed and move their mother to the operating room before Stanley forced his way out into the world. 

Poor little Shermie, who'd snuck into the room, was both horrified and amazed by the whole experience.

Little brothers, he'd commented while holding a tiny, baby Dipper, are a handful. You always gotta be on the lookout for them cause they'll give you a heart attack if you look away for a second.

And then he put Dipper in Stan's free arm, the other already occupied by a sleeping Mabel, and left him with the youngest Pines twins.

And Stan fell in love in an instant. So much so that he'd nearly gotten into a fistfight with Shermie about whose turn it was to cuddle the babies later.

But as much as he'd loved Dipper and Mabel, being around them was dangerous.

The more time he spent with his family, the more risk he took in keeping up his ruse.

So he'd stayed away and only sent letters and the occasional gift by mail. 

He had planned on keeping the twins at an arm's length this summer, but that was proving futile at this point.

He nearly let precious info about Ford slip to Mabel in an attempt to connect with her and keep her out of Gideon's clutches.

Stan groaned miserably and leaned his head back against the door.

"Oh man, Sherm," he muttered into the empty room. "Little brothers may be a handful, but older siblings are no picnic, either."

[kirvee]

GRAVITY FALLS HUNGER GAMES!!!

Alright so we have Dipper and Mabel, Stanley and Stanford, Wendy and Soos together for obvious reasons.

Bill and McGucket are together because they're both Ford's exes.

Gideon and Pacifica are bratty so they're together.

Robbie and Tambry, Candy and Grenda, Waddles and Gompers for obvious reasons.

Toby Determined and Paper Jam Dipper because they're freaks.

Blubs and Durland are gay cops. Of course they're together.

Schmebulock and Tyler because I couldn't think of anyone else.

Axolotl and Time Baby are together because they're basically god.

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BLOODBATH:

Bill?? BILL????? WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BILL????

Nothing good can come out of this.

I'm very concerned about Durland having explosives.

ROBBIE WHAT THE HELL?????

he girls are fightinggggg

STAN?????? WHY WOULD YOU KILL SCHMEBULOCK IN FRONT OF YOUR GREAT NIECE???

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

DAY 1:

Candy questions her sanity! Also that's the least likely group I'd think would raid Waddles but okay ig

GOMPERS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Overall pretty uneventful day despite Gompers dying.

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

DEATHS:

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

NIGHT 1:

WHAT????????? DURLAND I THOUGHT YOU WERE CINNAMON ROLL HOW COULD YOU KILL ANYONE????

WADDLES NOOOOOOOOOOOO

She would do this tbh

Pacifica and Ford can share their medical supplies

They're talking about their exes

DAY 2:

Tambry and Wendy may be lesbians

what the FUCK!????!??!?!??!?!??!?!??!?!>!@?!@>?>!?@! PAPER JAM DIPPER IS A SAVAGE

Okay yeah this is normal-ish

STAN?????????? HE'S BECOME A MURDERER

it was from bill wasn't it

DIPPER NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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DEATHS:

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

NIGHT 2:

Time Baby commits arson!!!

rip candy she died

Blubs that was probably smart. Don't wanna mess with Time Baby.

oh fuck. oh. oh hold on a moment. fuck. i need a moment. i really need a moment.

PAPER JAM DIPPER THE HELL??? UM??? BRO IS OUT FOR MURDER

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Continued in next post

[starlovincowboy]

Ok so I have this idea for a Gravityfalls au and I'm a little obsessed with the idea right now so let me know if anyone wants to hear more about it 😖

(I have no idea if anyone's done this yet, but if so pls lmk bc I'd love to see it)

ANYWAY HERE IT IS, ENJOY WHILE I WORK ON HOMEWORK!!!!

Basically, it's an au where Dipper and Mabel get kicked out at sixteen by their stepmom(?) and end up walking around before ending up in front of a house where Emma-May Dixion (Fiddleford's ex/Tates mom) lives.

She takes them in and she calls Tate down from GravityFalls to help her find a place for these two kids and he recognizes the two from when they spent a couple summers down in GravityFalls, so he says he'll take them there so they can stay with their great uncles.

Obviously, the twins are like excited and happy to go to GravityFalls to see their grunkles, and so Tate does as he said, promising his mom he'll keep her updated.

Over the journey back to Oregon, they all sorta bond, and it's nice even though Dipper is tense and very guarded while Mabel is just happy to go to a proper home. When they arrive the twins are greeted by worried grunkles and questions by their friends on why they're back in the fall instead of the summer, they don't say much but enough to let them know it wasn't good.

During the course of the twins settling in the shack, it's really complicated. Now that soos and his grandmother are living in the shack and Ford and Stan as well, it's incredibly crowded. Especially with Fiddleford coming around at times, mostly to check on the younger twins, but still.

Mabel eventually feels pretty good after a couple of days, but Dipper, on the other hand, is super tense and quiet. The only person who can get him to answer a question or to talk is Mabel, and it's really awkward for everyone in the house who isn't used to Dipper being so..different.

Later on, the Mcguckets and Pines make a small outing plan in celebration of the twins being safe and everything going well.

They end up hanging out by the lake where Tate works, and Dipper separates himself from the group because it's all just too much for him.

Dippers, too, in his head to realize Tate is sitting next to him, and when he does, he jumps and sort of just watches him from the corner of his eye.

The two make small talk, which soon morphs into them talking about family and fathers and all kinds of things. It doesn't take long for Tate to get attached to the two twins, they're really great kids.

Soon enough the conversation of how the grunkles most likely cannot be their legal gaurdians comes up and the twins are like devastated, but here comes Tate suggesting he could take em in.

Mostly because if he does, they'd still be related if Fiddleford and Stan are together. So really it's not a bad plan at all, Mabel is loving it because she honestly loves spending time with the man and she thinks it'd be nice to get him as a dad and be able to call Fiddleford grandpa.

Dipper, though, freaks out. Internally of course because he doesn't want to bring his sister down but he's secretly terrified because yeah Tate is a cool guy and he's super nice and his dad is also cool but at the same time he kinda barely knows the guy and he hates the idea of some guy just taking him and his sister away from his grunkles.

Like yeah he knows Tate will most likely let them see their grunkles but he's also terrified because he's started to like Tate and he's caught himself a few times thinking of what it'd be like to have him as a dad but he pushed the thought away as soon as it came.

It's not like he was scared that when Tate does adopt them and legally gets to be their father and all that, hell regret it. Dipper knows he's stubborn, knows he lashes out when he's upset, how he assumes the worst in almost any scenario, how he can't do anything like his sister.

Dipper knows that once Tate takes them in, he'll see how Mabel is the better twin, and he'll kick Dipper out and then never want to see him again. But no, Dipper is not scared of any of that. Whatsoever.

It takes a couple of fights and a few breakdowns, but they get there, Tate adopts the twins and makes them official McGuckets.

They all celebrate with a small party and it's a little rough, Dipper hasn't called Tate dad yet but that's ok because Tate is a patient man and he knows it's a hard transition anyway.

But when the time comes when Dipper finally calls Tate "dad," he most certainly doesn't cry.

[xoxobuckybarnes]

February 2023 Stucky Fics

Completed

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard (series) by Halberth / @histrionic-dragon & art by Lorien / @drjezdzanyart

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard (Rated: T, Words: 152K)

Summary: Shuri and Wanda cleared Bucky's triggers shortly after Killmonger's attempted coup, and he and Steve went on the run. But it turns out there's more to "fixing Bucky's head" than "getting Hydra out of it." When a group of rogue scientists manage to neutralize the serum and make Steve very sick--pre-serum "this is bad" kind of sick--and they're cut off from contact with Wakanda, Bucky knows only one person with resources to help. He calls Tony and surrenders on the condition that Tony tries to help Steve. From there, it's basically three variously messed-up guys’ trajectories from "This Is Fine", "Reasonably Speaking I Know It’s Fine", "I Will Be Fine With It" to actually being fine, guest-starring a far-better-adjusted teenage boy who climbs walls, a 1957 Ford Thunderbird, two women with a keen sense of the absurd, and Bruce, the Zen master of “it’s fine that it’s not fine.” Add in the fact that Bucky's been secretly in love with Steve since the thirties and things only get harder. Learning to be a person is the hardest thing Bucky Barnes will ever have to do--but he's got company along the way.

Post-Credit Scenes (Rated: NR, Words: 2K)

Summary: “Hi.” Bucky ran his thumb around the edge of the shield. “I’m, uh. Not dead.” Takes place immediately after the end of Heroes are Easy, People are Hard.

More than the Sum of our Faults (Rated: T, Words: 15K) by Oh_i_swear / @oh-i-swear-writes & art by lemonadehearts / @lemonadeswift

Summary: When Steve Rogers adopts a dog he rescued from a collapsed building he realizes that due to the nature of his job he needs a dog sitter. Enter Becca Barnes, owner and sole proprietor of Happy Hounds, a dog walking and sitting service that comes Sam-Wilson-approved. What Steve didn’t bank on was the gorgeous owner of his dog’s best puppy pal who happens to also be Becca’s older veteran brother, and he certainly didn’t bank on running into the man - quite literally, let alone falling completely in love with him.

Another Song, Another Spring (Rated: T, Words: 46K) by somanywords / @somanywords

Summary: Bucky smiles into his phone. “Yeah, thanks, Mom. Actually, I had a few questions? What age do babies start mimicking language, aka cussing? And what age do they start walking?” “Is this for your book?” his mother asks suspiciously. “Yes,” Bucky says, staring into the eyes of the baby on his couch. “Yes."  

On The Back of A Raindrop (Rated: E, Words: 52K) by musette22 / @musette22

Summary:  Despite the fact that Steve Rogers’ life hasn't always been a bed of roses, he’s fortunate enough to have a lot of good things to call his own. He has a loving mother, two wonderful kids, marvelous friends, and a beautiful house with a big, sprawling yard, to name but a few. One thing Steve does not have, however, is green fingers. One late spring morning, Steve decides to call in the help of a local gardening company to restore his yard to its former glory. When gorgeous gardener Bucky Barnes shows up on his doorstep the next day, he unwittingly upturns not only Steve’s yard, but his life, too. Over the course of the summer, it’s more than just the garden that begins to blossom.

Atoms (Rated: M, Words: 49K) by Andrea1717 / @andrea1717 & art by kahey2804 / @kahey2804

Summary: After a hard year and the end of both his military and his short career as a personal bodyguard Steve Rogers did not expect the call from his best friend and ex- colleague Sam Wilson. He offers him a job, full time and long term, starting on the next day. At first it sounds perfect to finally move forward from the devastating events in his past career and life - being one bodyguard in a group of four for a rich kid from a famous lawyer. How hard can that be? What Steve didn’t expect was the kid - Bucky Barnes, twenty two, traumatized from his dark past, devastatingly beautiful and a real brat. After a while on the job Steve not only discovers that Bucky seems to play a role most of the time, he also discovers that parts of his heart who seemed to be dead for a while are very much alive.

honey don’t feed it, it will come back (Rated: M, Words: 18K) by thedoubteriswise / @thedoubteriswise & art by ellebeesknees / @ellebeesknees

Summary: He lets out a long sigh and watches Bucky. Back home he was always too vain to let more than a day’s worth of stubble build up, but now he’s got about three days of scruff on his chin. He shouldn’t look handsome like this. His eyes are shut, but Steve can tell by his breathing that he’s still awake. The cat is curled up on his stomach and purring like an idling motor.“ He’s actually pretty cute.” Bucky smiles softly, too sleepy to make whole faces.“ Damn right,” he hums. He’s stroking the cat’s fur, which is soft and fine now that it’s clean. He looks so open and inviting. Steve doesn’t close his eyes, watching Bucky’s gentle fingers and trying to come up with a plausible excuse to go touch him.

I was never cool (and all I wanted was just to have you) (Rated: E, Words: 2K) by dreamsinthewitchouse / @dreamsinthewitchouse 

Summary: Bucky is slouched behind the circulation desk, chewing on a pen and staring morosely at the computer screen. He’s wearing headphones, his head just barely moving to whatever he’s listening to. Steve is halfway across the room before Bucky notices him, startled into dropping his pen. “Oh. Hi.” Bucky straightens in his chair, pulling the headphones down to his neck while his face does something complicated. “Why— is there something you needed?” “Um, yeah,” Steve says, his chest suddenly tight. “There’s this book I really wanna read?”

***This fic is complete, but the series (booksmart) is not***

He’s All That (Rated: T, Words: 88K) by crinklefries / @spacerenegades​ & art by fingersnaptothat

Summary: “That one,” Tony says gleefully. “I pick him.” “Him?” Bucky hisses. “Steve Rogers?” “Bet’s a bet,” Tony says smugly. “Make Steve Rogers the class president by the end of the year.” “Motherfucker,” Bucky curses. Then he takes a fortifying breath. He can do this. He’s Bucky Son of A Senator Barnes. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the front just the way he knows men and women like it. “Fine,” he says. “Okay. By the end of the year. Easy.” *** When Bucky Barnes--son of a state Senator, future president of his fraternity, and co-captain of his college’s soccer team--gets unceremoniously and very publicly dumped at a party, his entire reputation hangs on by the thinnest thread. Drunk and humiliated, he does the only thing that makes sense--he makes a bet with Tony Stark. Now Bucky has the length of the school year to take Steve Rogers--small, asthmatic, environmentally-conscious art nerd, political activist, and complete social disaster--and turn him into the student body president. How many misunderstandings, shenanigans, and college tropes will abound before Bucky realizes that Steve Rogers, well, he’s all that?

WIP

Treading Water (Rated: M, Current Words: 76K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace & art by Dyslexic_Fetus / @reagy-jay

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first.

***Be sure to check out the rest of this amazing series : Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

An Appropriate Omega (Rated: M, Current Words: 195K) by BeauRadley

Summary: Steven Rogers, the Duke of Brooklyn, is in a bind. The provisions of his father’s will mean he must marry before his thirty-fifth birthday or lose his mother’s inheritance. The catch? He has to marry a suitable omega. James Barnes is the third child of the impoverished Barnes family. If he or his sister don’t marry before the season is out, their family will fall further into poverty. If he doesn’t find someone else soon, he’ll be forced to marry the sinister Lord Pierce. The two men realize they can solve each other’s problems, but will their marriage of convenience turn into something more?

Dichotomy (Rated: E, Current Words: 4K) by papesdontsellthemselves / @turtle-steverogers 

Summary: After getting signed to SHIELD Audio Inc., The Commandos have been taking the world by storm. Industry golden boy, Bucky Barnes, is just happy to have a chance to share his music. However, his world threatens to get turned on its head when The Commandos get sent on tour with the Howlies, where Steve Rogers spreads into his life like wildfire, waiting to burn.

Rereads

Targeting (Rated: E, Words: 149K) by queenmab_scherzo / @queenmabscherzo

Summary: Steve and Bucky end up playing for rival college football teams.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

How does the ‘real date’ go?! You can’t leave us hanging like that!😤

It's been raining for days, and it patters down on Lenny's well-used umbrella as he waits for Midge out side of their agreed-upon restaurant.

A quiet spot with good comfort food and a homey atmosphere. It's been around for probably a good sixty years serving the same stuff it always has, and Lenny sneaks in here sometimes before shows to grab a bite.

Midge is late, because it's raining and also, she's Midge. Perpetually tardy, but worth the wait, honestly.

"Sorry!" she calls, dashing up. She's wearing a an almost-blue, almost-lilac dress, and she looks...

Well she always looks beautiful. Worth the wait, indeed.

"S'okay," he shrugs with a grin. "It's just a little rain."

Midge smiles at him as they deflate their umbrellas and head into the restaurant, setting them next to each other in a little basket by the door. His black, hers a silvery-gray.

They're seated relatively quickly and Midge looks around, smiling.

"It's nice here. Cozy."

"I like it," Lenny admits. "I come here before shows sometimes. Get something to eat. Have a moment."

She beams at him; at his seemingly new ability to share bits and pieces of his life with her.

He always could, he swears, he just-

Fucks it up sometimes. A lot.

They look at their menus and Midge asks the million dollar question.

"So? California for six months?" she queries.

"Yes," he nods, glancing up at her. "For a number of reasons. First and foremost, my kid was having a hard time. She's got issues with nightmares and anxiety and it was time to step in and help my mother handle things."

Midge looks up, surprised. "That sounds rough. Is she okay?"

Lenny nods. "She is. Now. A lot had to change very quickly for her to be okay, so things are a little...in flux at the moment for me."

She tilts her head, looking concerned.

"I had to get my shit together in some very real, very jarring ways," he tells her. "The bag you found was unceremoniously tossed into the garbage, and I've been mostly taking a break from performing. As I told you, I got a place here in the city, and she's living with me now."

"Wow," Midge breathes out. "That is a lot of change. So if you're not performing...?"

"Writing," Lenny says. "Op eds. A memoir for Playboy." He looks back down at his menu. "When your six-year-old is on the verge a breakdown, it tends to put things into perspective."

She nods understandingly. "I mean...if there's anything I can do to help..."

"I appreciate that," he grins. "We're still kind of settling in, but I will let you know." He takes a breath. "So? What about you? Gordon Ford's show. Gigs around town. What else?"

"Child rearing of my own," Midge tells him. "And fending off advances from my newly-single ex-husband. That's been stressful."

Lenny wrinkles his forehead, looking confused. "He left you."

"Yes he did."

"Now he's..."

"Yes he is."

Lenny rolls his eyes and it makes her laugh.

"It's ridiculous," Midge says. "Things felt...less stressful when he was with Mei - his now ex-girlfriend who is seven months pregnant with Joel's baby and took a medical residency in Ohio."

He snorts out a laugh. "Oof. Left for Ohio, of all places." He takes a breath and regards her thoughtfully. "Well, you and I could always start seriously dating. That might scare him off."

She laughs a little. "Yeah? I should go on Gordon Ford Thursday night and talk about my new boyfriend, Lenny Bruce?"

"Boyfriend," Lenny ponders. "It's been a long time since I've been someone's boyfriend, I wonder how that works nowadays. Do I pin you?"

"You already did," Midge reminds him with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.

He chuckles and puts a hand in front of his mouth, gazing at her. "I suppose that's true."

"Three times, if I recall," she adds.

"I'm a very focused individual," Lenny admits. "Also, it was a lot of fun."

Midge laughs softly. "It was a lot of fun." She keeps smiling, but the look in her eyes a little vulnerable. "Maybe a little more than fun?"

He nods in agreement and swallows, going serious. "Yes. More than fun."

They sit in the silence of that for a moment, before they both look back down at their menus.

It goes well, the rest of the date. They make each other laugh, and share kid stories. Midge tells him about the set at Gordon Ford and how insane it can get.

They split a bottle of wine with dinner and they don't leave until the restaurant closes up.

It's still raining when they leave, and Lenny drapes his trench coat over her shoulders to aid her umbrella in keeping her dry.

"I like this," she tells him. "You and me and quiet dinners. Not that...busy nights of television appearances, and bizarre clubs who may or may not sacrifice their patrons or police raids in the snow aren't exciting, but..."

He nods in agreement. "This is good, too. Really good."

Midge smiles at him and leans up, kissing him softly, a hand cupping his jaw so gently he feels like he might burst into fucking flames as he kisses her back.

She pulls away reluctantly and takes a breath before hailing herself a cab. When one pulls up, Midge slips his coat off and holds it out to him.

Lenny regards her for a moment before kissing her again as he takes the coat back. "Goodnight, Midge."

She smiles against his lips. "Goodnight, Lenny."

She closes her umbrella and hops into the cab, waving to him a little as it pulls away from the curb and Lenny tugs his coat back on.

Her perfume lingers on he collar where she tugged it close and Lenny shakes his head before calling himself a cab.

[apocalypseornaw]

Real Feelings

For the square *fake dating* on @girl-next-door-writes bingo

You pulled up to the newest construction site and parked next to Bobby’s truck. Him and Dean would be around here somewhere Ellen had tasked you with delivering the crew’s lunch order from the diner. You stepped out the truck then leaned back in to grab the box that held the food. When you heard someone call your name you nearly dropped the box. It was Micheal, your ex boyfriend who you’d been engaged to for a short time until he’d broken it off because in his words “This will never work out and it’ll cause less heartbreak now” you hadn’t seen him in a few years. 

You plastered a smile on your face as he moved to help you grab the box “Hi Michea! How have you been, what are you doing here?” he motioned around the lot “I’m here to meet with Dean and Bobby.They found a way to work around a design flaw I didn’t think about. What are you doing here?” you motioned to the box in your hand “Ellen, Bobby’s wife asked me to bring lunch” 

He smiled and waved a hand towards the trailers that held the temp offices “Then we’re headed in the same way. How’ve you been?” you nodded “Can’t complain, you?” he ran a hand across the back of his neck and you knew that as a tell he was nervous about something so when he started the next sentence with “Well actually I was going to call you” your stomach knotted. Why was he calling you? “Because?” you questioned so he grinned “I’m getting married. It’s a whole thing that’ll be up in the mountains. Charity, you remember Charity don’t you?” you nodded because yes you did in fact remember Charity. She was the greek goddess Micheal had met a few months after your split. She was gorgeous and sweet enough to meet sugar in her mouth. “Well she wanted to know if you’d like to come. Now it’ll not just be the wedding. My father is having a grand opening of the resort we’re using as well so there’ll be plenty of activities to do. You always did love the snow”

You walked up the steps next to him and knew your emotions were plainly written across your face because the next thing he added rather quickly was “And of course, if you’re seeing someone he can come along as well” you wracked your brain thinking of anyone you could use to keep from looking like you hadn’t gone this long without a lasting relationship considering he was getting married for real this time. “I’ll have to talk with him” you replied and could see his eyebrows go up slightly “Anyone I know?” you stepped into the door and as you did blurted out the only name that popped into your head “I’m actually seeing Dean” Micheal stopped in his tracks “Winchester?”  you breathed a sigh of relief to see Dean wasn’t in the office yet then nodded “Yeah about a year now” “Can’t say I’m surprised” he muttered and you were about to ask why when the door opened to Dean walking in.

“Hey baby!” you called moving to hug him then whispered in his ear “For the love of god go along with it. I’ll owe you” he gave you a look but pressed a quick kiss to your cheek “Hey to you too sweetheart” then nodded to Micheal “Hey man” you knew Dean was probably wondering what was really going on considering he was watching you as you laid his and Bobby’s food down then walked out to take the other food to the crew. Bobby had joined him and Micheal by then so Dean excused him by saying “Bobby I’m gonna walk Y/N. Make sure she’s wearing her hardhat this time” Bobby nodded then turned his attention back to the plans he was showing Micheal.

------

Once you and Dean were outside he cut his eyes at you and took one of the boxes out of your hand “So darling, when did we start seeing each other?” you grimaced then explained “I’m so sorry but he caught me by surprise. I didn’t know this was one of his dad’s builds then he’s talking about the fact that him and Charity are getting married and he’s inviting me and my boyfriend and honestly? With the exception of Bobby and Sam I don’t really hang out with that many guys besides you” you quickly explained the weekend Micheal and Charity had planned heading up to their big day.

He was silent for a few moments then shrugged “Is it paid?” “What?” you asked in confusion so he clarified “Is it paid? Like we show up and enjoy this brand spanking new resort in the mountains, get our food cooked for us. Our rooms cleaned for us and all we have to do in return is sit through your douchey ex getting married?” You nodded slowly and he smirked “I say let’s do it. I think it’d be fun and besides when’s the last time either of us had a vacation, let alone one we didn’t have to foot out an armload for?”

You opened your mouth then shut it just as quickly “Well I gotta go after I get this food to the crew but if you’re sure, tell him yes” he winked at you then took the other box from your hands “Go on and get back to Ellen because I fully expect my girl to have some new outfits before we show up to this destination wedding” you rolled your eyes at him then playfully swatted his ass “I’ll see what I can managed sugar”

------

The closer the weekend of the wedding got the more you wanted to back out. You and Micheal still had a lot of mutual friends and those mutual friends also knew Dean, Sam, Bobby and the entire bunch. There was bound to either be awkwardness or the horror of Micheal finding out you lied. Any time you bought the worry up to Dean he’d wave it off with the logic of “We know damn near everything about each other sweetheart. Hell you crashed at my place after you two split until we got you into your loft. We’re comfortable with casual touch. He’ll never know”

------

Before you knew it the wedding weekend had sprung up on you. You were curled up in the passenger seat of Dean’s truck as he drove following the directions Micheal and Charity had included in with every invitation. Normally he’d drive his impala but considering this was a trip into the mountains you both decided it would be better to take the truck.

“So do you know about our room situation?” he asked, breaking the silence in the cab of the truck. You shrugged “Charity got a headcount and they blocked off that many rooms. Considering they think we’re a couple you’re fine sharing with me aren’t you?” “Of course, sweetheart. Even if you do snore” he teased with a wink. You shook your head and reached up to turn the radio up slightly and smiled when he started to sing along with the song “Bad moon rising” 

------

“Wake up Y/N. We’re here” Dean called shaking your leg closest to him. You sat up and nearly told him to turn the truck around. Yes the resort was gorgeous but the reality of going to your ex-fiance’s wedding was starting to set in. Dean reached across the console and grabbed your hand “Hey fake boyfriend or not I’m really here to back you up. I won’t leave your side all weekend unless you tell me to ok?” you managed a smile then questioned “What if you see a hot bridesmaid?” he shrugged “I’ll get their number for later” “DEAN!” you scolded causing him to crack up laughing “See? Changed your mood that quick” You rolled your eyes but grabbed your bag and followed him once he was parked.

The interior of the resort had a nice almost rustic feel to it. A large fireplace was roaring in the center of the lobby and you grabbed Dean’s arm to pull him along with you to check it out. “You’re already smiling. It won’t be that bad” you turned to tell him that five minutes in versus an entire weekend was too different things but stopped when you heard an accented voice call both of your names. You looked up to see Benny and his sister Elizabeth walking towards you. “Benny” you greeted with a smile as the two of you hugged. Once you pulled away from him you greeted Elizabeth in much the same fashion. 

“So Dean, brother I hear you finally managed to wrangle this one” Benny asked with a smirk. Your eyes widened at his wording..what did he mean by finally? You chose not to ask considering you’d told Micheal the two of you had been together for nearly a year. Dean, ever the fast talker, simply slid an arm around your waist and winked at Benny “Things worth having take time don’t they?” you could feel a blush threatening to warm your cheeks and shot Elizabeth a grateful smile when she said “Leave her be boys. Y/N we need to catch up but for now I’ll drag my brother away so the two of you can get checked in and squared away”

After the two of them had walked off you looked at Dean who still had his arm around you holding you close to his side “What did Benny mean?” he shrugged “Who knows with Benny?” then moved to grab your bags then nodded towards the front desk “Let’s get checked in”

------

Your room was on the third floor so you took the nearest elevator up and thankfully it was empty. You leaned your head back against the wall then rolled it over to look at Dean silently cursing yourself for ever putting the two of you in this situation. You weren’t exactly ugly but damn the man looked like a walking wet dream when he was doing the most mundane tasks and you knew for a fact the suit he had brought for the ceremony was a Tom Ford black herringbone three piece. You’d seen him in it twice before and every woman and a good amount of the men in the nearest vicinity looked like they’d throw themselves under a bus to have a chance to see him without it and now here you were having to play it off like you had. “You’re thinking loud enough to give me a migraine” he spoke pushing off the wall when the elevator came to a stop. You shrugged “Just thinking how many more people are we gonna know that’s here, meaning how many are gonna ask about us being together after this weekend” “Let’s enjoy this weekend then we’ll worry about the rest” he replied with a wink motioning for you to step off first when the doors opened.

You checked the room numbers until you got to yours. You slid the key card in then stepped inside opening the door further for Dean since he’d insisted to carry your bags too because in his words “Yes you are more than capable but dammit I am a loving fake boyfriend”  You were in the living room area of the suit and it was nice, had a small couch against one wall with two overstuffed chairs sitting across the room next to a fireplace and a large tv on one wall. Dean let out a low whistle and sat your bags down in front of the couch “So far, so good. Want to check out the bedroom?” you ignored the warmth in your face to follow him to the bedroom door and cursed under your breath when you saw the kingsize bed. “I’ll um take the couch” you offered but he raised an eyebrow “We’re adults Y/N. I think we can share a bed. Besides this thing is big enough we won’t even be near each other unless we want to” he added a smirk at the end and you rolled your eyes feeling some of your nerves start to melt away at the simple fact of Dean being Dean.

 “Fine but you snore and I’ll put a pillow over your face” he nodded “Fair enough” then grabbed your hand “Get a thicker jacket on. We’re gonna go check out the grounds” you didn’t have time to argue before he was pulling your jacket out of one of your bags and slipping it onto your arms. 

------

The two of you spent a few hours simply walking the different paths around the resort. Dean was always big on the outdoors and you loved the snow so it was something that you both found joy in. You ended up taking several photos of wildlife including a squirrel that took a liking to Dean.

When the sun started to shift in the sky you tried and failed to hide a shiver from Dean. He was immediately pulling his gloves off and holding them out to you. “I think that’s our clue to head back” you slid the gloves on then nodded “Yeah”

You walked along next to him and was a bit surprised when he reached out to lace his fingers in with yours. You glanced down at your intertwined hands and he shrugged “That way we keep both of our hands halfway defrosted” you bit your lip to try to hide the smile you had at the action. What the hell were you doing to yourself? You had simply tried to duck out of an awkward conversation with an ex and were now risking one of the closest friendships you had.

Your attention was drawn by Elizabeth’s voice. You looked up about the time the brunette nearly barreled into you “Liz! Calm down honey. What is it?” you questioned. She cut her eyes at Dean then smiled sweetly “Stand right there Dean. I won’t keep her long” Dean had a curious look but nodded nonetheless.

You let her pull you a couple feet from Dean before asking “What is going on?” “Lisa is here” you felt your heart hit your feet at that. Lisa was Dean’s ex and the closest he’d ever gotten to marriage. She’d played him dirty though by using her son Ben as a bargaining chip. Once Ben got old enough to go off to school she’d lost that chip but you knew Dean’s feelings for her had in fact been very real. “Oh” you said softly which caused Elizabeth to shake your arms roughly “Oh? Oh as in you aren’t worried or oh as in I should start a fight with her sister just to give you an excuse to knock her out?” You let out a surprised laugh at her offer then said “Oh as in I’m not worried” you looked over your shoulder at Dean who waved when he saw he had your attention then added softly “Not very worried anyways”

-----

Elizabeth went in search of Benny so you and Dean headed back inside. He was asking if you wanted to hit the dining area or just get room service. You wanted to go ahead and tell him Lisa was here but if everything was going to implode you might as well enjoy a little before it did right? “I’m thinking room service and maybe some horror movies?” you suggested as the two of you walked towards the elevators. He pulled you into his side and left a kiss on your temple “That’s my girl!”

------

You left ordering the food up to Dean while you took a shower and you started to wonder if you should regret that decision when you walked into the living room. He had a fire going and there were plates on nearly every surface. “Are we barricading ourselves in here? Did the apocalypse start while I was in the shower and if so can I claim Daryl?” He looked up from scrolling through the movie options to laugh humorlessly “First off I’m like so much better looking than him and I just decided that we’d try a little bit of everything in case the rest of the weekend gets to be too much and your stomach does that nervous thing where you can’t eat without getting queasy” 

Damn he remembered that? Guess it shouldn’t surprise you but even Micheal had never paid too much mind to that. “Well in that case pick the first movie and let’s get this marathon started”

------

Dean knew you’d never make it through the entire list of movies the two of you had picked. Halfway through the Texas chainsaw massacre you were curled up next to him with your head laid over on his shoulder. He missed times like this. After you and Micheal had first split and you stayed with him this was a weekly occurrence. The two of you would stay up most saturday nights, watching the cheesiest horror movies and eating the weirdest take out you could.  You’d always fall asleep on him and he would always just get comfortable and sleep on the couch as well to have you close to him. His feelings for you had already been apparent by the time him and Lisa finally called it quits but you’d been with Micheal. After the breakup he hadn’t wanted to be seen as trying to take advantage so he was content with the best friend role. He’d date and see you date but would always hold his breath when you’d hit the couple weeks mark with whatever idiot you’d be currently seeing in hopes you’d kick the guy to the curb and you always did. 

When this weekend had come up you’d expected him to laugh at the idea but he’d jumped at. Maybe if he had some alone time with you in a place as gorgeous as this he could finally put words to his feelings and maybe just maybe you felt the same.

------

Waking up on the couch with Dean’s arms around you felt like a dream until you remembered just why the two of you were here and what Elizabeth had told you the night before. You turned to look up at him and smiled seeing his face so relaxed. His mouth was open just slightly and his hair was tousled from moving around in his sleep. You weren’t sure how long you’d been staring at him when a smirk slipped onto his face “Staring is a little creepy honey” you rolled your eyes and slowly started to sit up “I wasn’t staring I was simply making sure you weren’t drooling on me”

He opened one eye and smiled at you “Are you asking me to get bodily fluid on you?” “I swear to christ Dean!” you scolded but he started laughing and pulled you back down next to him “Shh go back to sleep. Breakfast runs for another two hours and there’s no wedding stuff until the snowmobile ride around one then the dinner at seven” You cut your eyes up at him and took a deep breath before saying “I need to tell you why Elizabeth found me last night”

He sat up slowly opening both eyes and yawned “I’m guessing not just to get help burying Benny in snow?” you shook your head “Um well you know a lot of our friend groups and Micheal’s are intertwined” he nodded so you finally bit the bullet “Lisa is here” “Oh” he stood up off the couch rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. There were too many emotions playing through his eyes to pick out just one so you took the opportunity to say “I’m gonna grab a shower. Charity asked for some of the female guests to come pick out corsages so none of us are left without flowers so I’m going to meet up with Liz to do that”

You quickly walked out the room before Dean could see the look in your eyes at his reaction upon hearing Lisa was at the resort. Well at least thursday had been fun. You simply had today and tomorrow to get through then sunday you could head home.

------

By the time you got out the shower Dean was sitting on the foot of the bed with his toiletry bag next to him so he could shower next. He glanced up when you walked out and smiled “So are you and Liz gonna meet up with me and Benny for breakfast or are we left up to our own devices?” you shrugged and grabbed your thinner jacket since you planned to be indoors until the snowmobiling later. “Why don’t you two go without us and we’ll meet up later?” “You don’t think I’m gonna leave you high and dry just because Lisa is here..do you?” you opened your mouth to reply but someone was on your side because Elizabeth chose that moment to text your phone “I’m outside your room babe” you showed him the phone and he nodded “Find me after you pick flowers..please?” you smiled “Of course” then nearly ran out the room.

------

You forced a smile onto your face as you followed Elizabeth into the room where Charity had the florists set up. You really did think it was a cute idea that she didn’t want any woman in attendance to be without flowers even though it was her big day.

You stopped the moment you stepped into the room and spotted Lisa talking to Charity’s sister Alice. “Well look what the cat dragged in” Elizabeth muttered under her breath and you bit your lip to hide the smile “Let’s just check in with Charity, pick our flowers and get the hell out of here” she nodded looping her arm in with yours. The two of you headed for the table lined with daisies,sunflowers and lilies. “What were you thinking?” she asked, picking up one of the flowers off the table. You shrugged “Something simple Liz, my dress is dark blue and Dean’s suit is black” “Is it the three piece Tom Ford number? He always did look amazing in that?” Lisa’s voice came from behind you and you felt your spine stiffen at her voice.

Elizabeth cut her eyes at you as you turned to face Lisa with a smile on your face “Matter of fact it is. Nice to see you again Lisa. How’s Ben?” her smile faltered slightly at your mention of him. “He’s doing fine, can I ask you one thing?” you nodded slowly “Even if I say no you’re gonna talk anyways so I might as well agree to it to keep things civil for Charity and Micheal’s sake”

You saw Elizabeth move out the corner of your eye coming to stand directly next to you and you then realized Lisa’s sister Tabitha had come to stand behind her. You weren’t doing this. You and Micheal had ended on a good note, Charity was a good person and you were going to have to be pushed really far to act stupid during their weekend. “Were you screwing him when I was with him or did you just wait until Micheal woke up about you?” “You know what Lisa..” Elizabeth started but was stopped by Alice stepping between you and Lisa “Braeden, Y/N is a guest here same as you are. If the two of you have issues with each other we have a big resort here take it outside or get over it”

You stared Lisa down as you told Alice “I have no problem. I’m here for Micheal and Charity. They invited me” Lisa plastered one of those smiles that could only be described as how Lucifer smiled at Eve in the garden “No issue from me either” Alice nodded and smiled at you “How have you been Y/N? Did you and Elizabeth find the flowers you wanted?” you shook your head still looking at Lisa over her shoulder. She gently touched your elbow and led you back to one of the tables. “Tell me what colors you and Dean are wearing and I’m sure we’ll find something that looks amazing. You too Elizabeth”

------

After you and Elizabeth were through picking flowers she asked if you wanted to grab breakfast. “Just the two of us?” you offered and she shrugged “Up to you. We can find your honey and my brother if you want or we can just catch up?” you smiled “I like the idea of catching up. Dean and Benny are big boys. They can be left alone for a little while” she smiled in return and grabbed your arm “Well then come on ma’am”

-------

You were sipping on your coffee when Lisa walked by your table. She was still staring you down but you refused to do anything to mess up a friend’s wedding weekend. “You know I’m starting to think she’s more jealous of Dean having you then you having Dean” Elizabeth scoffed and you coughed around your coffee from the laugh that pulled from your lips. “I really need to get down to Louisiana more often. I forgot just how much fun you Lafittes’ are” She winked at you over her own coffee cup “Especially around Mardi Gras”

You were about to leave to go change for the snowmobile ride when a plate was set down on the side of yours and Elizabeth’s table. You cut your eyes up at the person who’d sat it down and it was Tabitha. “Lisa said since you enjoy her leftovers so much she figured you may want more” you took a deep breath then stood to face her eye to eye “Tell Lisa if she has an issue with me she needs to be woman enough to deal with it when it’s not conflicting with other plans. Now she want to hit me up next weekend? I’ll gladly whip her ass” you heard Elizabeth snicker under her breath and Tabitha looked scandalized “Are you even with him? I mean you’re not really his type” 

Elizabeth was to her feet in a flash “You little..” but you stopped her with a hand then smiled at Tabitha “What? Not manipulative enough?” with that she seemed dumbfounded so you turned back to Elizabeth “Let’s go get changed”

------

Elizabeth’s room was on the same floor as yours and Deans so the plan was to change then meet up at the elevator unless one of you ran into one of the guys first. You unlocked the door and stepped into your room breathing a sigh of relief to see Dean was in fact not there but your phone went off with a text from him “Dammit we have looked everywhere for you two. Where did you get off to?” you rolled your eyes and sent back “I’m lost come find me” before laying the phone down to dig out different clothes.

You were pulling your boots on when you heard the door of the room open then shut followed by Dean calling your name. “In here!” you hollered and he poked his head around the door holding his phone up  “That has never been funny. Elizabeth told Benny where you were” “Snitch” you mumbled standing to grab your jacket. You could feel him watching you and cursed under your breath when he asked “What’s wrong?” you shrugged and tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm “Come on darlin. I know that look something is up” you nodded “Yeah your ex is a fucking bitch and needs to be glad that we’re at a mutual friend’s wedding” “What did she do?” he asked dropping your arm like the mere touch had burnt “Everything from saying how good you’ve always looked in that one suit to asking me if I was screwing you when the two of you were together to sending her sister over to mine and Elizabeth’s table to give me her leftovers from breakfast followed up by reminding me I’m not your type” when you were met with silence you laughed humorlessly “I think I’ll get Benny to come grab my bags and just stay with Elizabeth the rest of the weekend. We can tell everyone we split and if need be I’ll pay their gas to swing through to take me home on their way” “You don’t have to do that” he offered but you’d already turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes “Yeah. I do because this was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had” you grabbed your jacket and pushed past him out the room.

You nearly mowed over poor Benny who reached out to steady you “Woah there. Where you headed like that?” you figured might as well bite half the bullet at least “We just broke up will you bring my bags to Liz’s room?” he seemed more than a little confused but nodded “Want me to smack some sense into him?” you shook your head with a watery smile “It was bound to happen. I’m not really his type” then walked away from him to find Elizabeth.

------

You ended up dipping out of the snowmobile ride. You told Charity you were having a bit of motion sickness and bless her she’d gotten one of the staff to bring you some medicine.

You and Elizabeth had decided on one of the nature walks instead. “So what happened?” she asked and you shook your head “I told him what happened with Lisa. He didn’t respond” “I’m sorry honey” she replied pulling you into her side with one arm. You shrugged “Was bound to happen anyways”

When you finally pulled your phone out after the two of you had been wandering the trails for nearly two hours you had fifteen texts from Dean and even a few from Sam and Eileen wanting to know why their brother/brother in law was texting them to get them to text you to text him. Confusing huh?

“Maybe he’s sorry?” Elizabeth offered but you shook your head “I’m not holding him up. Who knows maybe Lisa is right. Maybe he does still want her” the words themselves felt like a hot knife twisting in your gut but you weren’t going to let it show. You could get through this and avoid Dean as much as possible until the sting went away. 

------

At dinner you told Elizabeth you weren’t feeling well but talked her into going to dinner well after you made her promise to not blow up at Dean, Lisa or Tabitha. You left her with Benny in hopes he would see that she kept that promise then headed up to her room.

When you opened the door Benny had laid your suitcase and smaller bag on the couch. You called room service to get some food and to see if you could get an extra pillow and blanket so you didn’t have to steal one off her bed.

By the time Elizabeth got up to the room you had already eaten and showered and was curled up on the couch watching a movie. She smiled at you the moment she walked in the door “He’s clearly upset” you sighed and patted the cushion next to you “You’re welcome to come watch Liz but I don’t wanna talk about Dean” she nodded “Fair enough” and kicked off her shoes to come join you.

------

“I fucked up man” Dean told Benny with a shake of his head. “You think? Man you’ve been telling me for how long how you feel about that girl then you what? Can’t even manage to say fuck her about your ex?” Dean shrugged because he honestly had no idea why he hadn’t said anything about it when you told him of the confrontations with Lisa. “How do I fix it?” he asked and Benny laughed “Beg? Then beg some more?” “You know what Benny? You’re such a help”

Lisa and Tabitha walked into the bar about that time and Benny bumped Dean’s arm forcing him to look up right before Lisa walked over to them. “Dean, I hear you got tired of Y/N already. Want a real woman again?” Benny rolled his eyes at her words then cut his eyes at Dean. As much as he liked him he liked you too and if Dean wouldn’t speak up on your behalf he damn sure was going to. “Real woman Lisa? You mean a liar, manipulator and cheater? Y/N has been one of my closest friends for as long as I can remember. When I needed her she was there, when Sammy, Bobby, Ellen hell anybody needed her she was there. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She fights for those she cares about, she takes care of everyone she can. She’s strong but still soft and I love her” 

Benny’s eyes widened at Dean’s confession and Lisa looked like she swallowed a frog “You love that?” Dean stood off the stool at her words and smiled “Sweetheart there was never anyone but her”

------

You and Elizabeth were wandering around before the ceremony. You were dressed complete with flowers. The people loitering around the lobby looked like they belonged in one magazine or another at a newsstands. You spotted Alice and walked towards her with a smile “How’s Charity?” she laughed nervously “Scared?” “She’ll be fine. Your dad walking her?” she nodded so you added “Just tell him to have a good grip on her arm just in case and tell her to keep her head high. She’s beautiful and we’re all here for her” She smiled “Thanks Y/N” “Anytime”

Elizabeth had watched you talk to Alice and when you got back to her side she asked “How are you that good talking about your ex-fiance’s soon to be wife?” you shrugged “hindsight twenty twenty? Me and Micheal didn’t belong together. He just figured it out before I did” She nodded slightly “So who do you belong with?” 

You could feel your cheeks threaten to warm as you thought about Dean. The way he made you feel when you’d wake up next to him or how he always went out of his way to make you laugh. How he always took care of everyone around him but resisted when it came to allowing someone to take care of him because he still wasn’t used to it. You were in love with him and had now possibly lost even his friendship. “Who I want I can’t have” you finally said and she asked “Why not?” “He doesn’t want me” you replied but froze when you heard Dean’s voice behind you “Are you sure about that? Because really if a guy has a shot at you and doesn’t take it he needs his ass kicked”

You looked back at Elizabeth but she was grinning at Benny “Oh dear brother of mine! Let’s go check out those nifty little stands they have set up near the doors!” you watched the two of them disappear then looked back at Dean “I never should’ve asked you to pretend this weekend” he nodded then smiled “And I should’ve admitted the reason I agreed was to get to spend some time with you so maybe I could figure out if you feel the same way about me that I do about you. Me and Lisa we never would’ve worked for the same reason you and Micheal never would’ve worked. I found who I want to be with and it’s you” “Dean please tell me you aren’t screwing with me right now” you whispered grateful the two of you had moved to the edge of the room where no one could overhear. “I’ve never been more serious about anything” you patted at the tears threatening to spill from your eyes “Christ I’m glad Liz had waterproof mascara” he bit back a laugh and motioned to your face “Those good tears?” you nodded “If you’re serious come kiss me Winchester” a smirk slipped onto his face “Don’t have to tell me twice” 

@brilovesdeanwinchester @akshi8278 @bolontiku

@girl-next-door-writes

[polymarinelove]

okay y’all listen up:

if you came to freeform’s siren for the ot3 or if you just loved the ot3 and are Not Okay™ about the current turn of events with the show, I have a show that will be a balm for your battered soul:

leverage

here are some of the perks:

ragtag team of “ex” thieves using their skills to take down the rich and powerful (white men)

epitome of the found family trope (this show basically CREATED the trope, I’m legitimately serious, deadass I believe they were the ones that truly created it) (edit: obviously I’m exaggerating but you catch my drift)

C A N O N polyamorous relationship made concretely canon by the last episode (although there are themes of it throughout the entire series)

also lowkey highkey the writer has been writing fanfiction for the ot3 on ao3 for the past decade but won’t say what his handle is. and no, I’m not even joking:

“villian” of the week storyline that never gets stale

after every con they make sure to dramatically gloat in the background, just in sight of their corrupt mark(s)

there is never a boring episode. no dips in content quality.

the writers didn’t believe in cliffhangers for season finales. they believed if you had to rely on shock factor or cliffhangers to keep the audience you weren’t doing it right

the Smart™ character is Alec Hardison, a black foster kid turned greatest hacker in the world. he loves and respect his nana above all else. (his first major crime was making the bank of iceland pay for his nana’s medical bills). he is PROUD geek (“age of the geek, baby”) and is can be emotional and there is nothing wrong with that (no toxic themes of black man hyper masculinity here, people). he is allowed and is unapologetically himself and on MANY occasions described (by his ot3 partners as well as the rest of the team) as the smartest man they’ve ever known. he is canonically romantically involved with parker for the last two seasons but he is also coded to be in a budding relationship with eliot (no toxic heteronormativity here either)

parker, canonically the greatest thief in the world, has many characteristics of being neurodivergent (possibly autistic) but is N E V E R made fun of or treated differently by her team because of this. she has trouble with emotions and connecting with others and was originally set up as the crazy, quirky girl character but the show was quick to set her up as SO MUCH MORE than that. her team helps her feel again after a rough, childhood and she learns to grift like a pro. shes baby and I’d die for her. she’s extremely smart and is built up to be the next mastermind of the team. her two love interests accept her for who she is and love everything about her. she is also bisexual (DONT @ ME I WILL TAKE THIS TO THE GRAVE THERE WERE TOO MANY HINTS AT IT)

eliot spencer, the hitter. basically is the brawn of the group that takes the hits for his team and fights if there is trouble or if they can’t just get in and out stealthily. started off as an 18 year old soldier with an idealized view of the world, slowly got involved with dubious military involvement and eventually turned into a hit man for hire. made many questionable choices but he eventually got out of that life. he HATES guns and when in fights, always takes his opponent’s gun away, dismantles the clip and throws it off to the side. despite all of this, he is N E V E R ONCE the toxic white manly man with a tragic past trope. never. yeah, he’s made major mistakes. yes, he has a tragic past. but that doesn’t define him. he attones for his past and tries to be better but it’s not a major plot point to overwhelm the viewer with manpain. he sometimes sleeps with other people but always cares about his lovers and pays attention to them (also lowkey sometimes the gender isn’t mentioned about past lovers so 👀👀👀 it’s Noted™). he is sure of himself and has the emotional stability that we wish bucky barnes would have. he teaches the women in his life how to fight and protect themselves. he loves cooking and uses his passion for it to teach parker how to feel (because cooking made him feel again after his terrible past). he’s so IN LOVE with parker and hardison- those heart eyes can be seen from the fucking MOON

sophie deveraux. grifter. english accent. EX art thief (“why does no one take that seriously!!!). wants to be an actress but cannot act for her LIFE unless she’s breaking the law. the mom/aunt of the group. she’s sexy, not just for her age- she’s sexy, period. she talks parker through grifting situations and teaches her how to interact with other people. I’d trust her with my secrets, but not with any valuables.

nate ford. the mastermind. an ex insurance agent. his son died after his company wouldn’t pay for his treatments. became a drunk, but the team gave him a reason to live again. his alcoholism could create problems for him, but it’s not glossed over at all in the show and is constantly addressed. he could be a dick and they didn’t excuse that. he and sophie have a relationship that takes three seasons to finally become something, and in the end after a lot of dancing around it becomes a healthy, loving relationship. he teaches parker to be the next mastermind, but doesn’t DREAM of leaving until he’s sure his kids parker, hardison and eliot will be good on their own. he could have easily been the broken white man trope but wasn’t. also, his “let’s go steal a _____” sctick never gets old- the bigger the thing they steal the better it gets, I promise.

literally, this is the best show of all time. it has it all: taking down rich white men, the found family of your DREAMS, a canon ot3

message my sideblog @leverage-ot3 for any questions or comments. you won’t regret watching this show, I promise.

(I’m tagging some other fandoms as well that I think might enjoy this show)

IMPORTANT EDIT:

the show aired from 2008-2012 (five seasons), but the show runners have reached a critical rage point about corporations today and have RENEWED IT for a sixth season (and possibly more)!!!

[mulletcal]

greased lightnin’ - a cashton!mechanic blurb.

a/n: my second blurb for the fic event! did i finish it up 12 hours before it was supposed to be posted? maybe, but she’s here and she’s thriving.  thank you once again to all the other fic writers involved in this event, you’re such a supportive group and ilu sm.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, oral (male receiving), smut, public sex

Event Masterlist

****

When Calum was little, his two favourite things to watch were Grease and Happy days; so it came as no surprise to anyone when he wanted to be a mechanic.  Calum also may have cited a time or two that The Fonz and Danny Zuko are who opened his eyes to the fact that he was attracted to men.

The slicked back, leather jacket look was something Calum was into; and while he was well aware that no proper mechanic actually dressed like that, it didn’t stop him from wearing such a getup to his interview at Irwin’s Auto- his curly hair perfectly messy, white t-shirt fitted against his torso with his worn-in leather jacket over it. 

Calum had hoped the man who did his pre-interview over the phone would be the one interviewing him, because based on voices alone Calum thought he sounded extremely attractive, and he was only rewarded when a young man who looked roughly his age came walking through the door.

The man wasn’t dressed like he would have expected, which only served to make him even more attractive.  He was dressed in a torn-up black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, dark ripped jeans that hugged his thighs, and his black hair pushed off of his forehead - Calum had to give his head a small shake to get himself out of the headspace of checking out his potential boss.

“Don’t mind my outfit, I didn’t get much sleep and this is the first thing I found.  I’m Ashton, I own this shop,” Ashton spoke, reaching out his hand for Calum to shake.  

Standing to shake the man - Ashton’s - hand, Calum couldn’t help but to admire the blood moon tattoos on his forearms, “Not to worry, happens to all of us.  M’Calum, I’m… interviewing to work here.”

Oh, so he was in the business of telling people things they already knew now, that’s good.  The grin Calum received in response made him grin as well.

“My ex is an ass.  I went to go get the last of my stuff and he wanted to start another fight… I don’t honestly know why I blurted that out, I’m sorry.  That was unprof--”

“He?” Calum blurted out before he had the chance to rethink it.  Maybe he did have a chance after all, if he didn’t get the job maybe he could follow up another time and ask him on a date.

Ashton’s frown made Calum’s breath seize in his throat though, immediately rethinking his choices, “Mate if you have an issue with gay people, you can get the fuck out.”

“No!” Calum sputtered, burying his face in his hands, “I was just surprised because I’m gay too.  Well… Half gay, bisexual really.  Fuck m’sorry, that was a horrible way to say that.  I’m bi.  I don’t have an issue with gay people.”

The grin returned to Ashton’s lips in an instant, leaning back into the chair opposite from him and crossing one leg over the other, “I think we’re going to get along just great.”

Calum was hired by the end of the interview, despite only being an apprentice at one other shop for three months before it went belly-up.  He liked to think that maybe the fact that him and Ashton seemed to get along great had something to do with it, or maybe he just saw potential in Calum.

His first day hadn’t gone as well as he expected; he knocked over a tray of tools, and somehow managed to drop numerous items onto Ashton’s foot.  

“You’re so lucky you’re pretty,” Ashton muttered under his breath, and it made Calum pause for a minute - had he just said he was pretty? No one had referred to him as pretty before.

It was all Calum could think of the rest of the day, doing his best to avoid dropping more things onto Ashton in hopes of not getting fired. After his first day of stumbling about, the rest of the week seemed to go smoothly; that was until he slipped on a small patch of oil on the ground, landing on his ass. Thankfully, it wasn’t a painful fall, but it was enough to have Ashton rushing to his aid, barking out a laugh when he realize Calum was okay.

“You’ve had a tough start and end to the week, wanna go for drinks after work?” Ashton asked, patting Calum on the forehead.

Calum agreed a little too quickly, a blush creeping up on his cheeks when Ashton held his hand out to help him up.  They had brushed past each other before, but Calum had forgotten how warm Ashton’s hands were, and how nice the man’s calloused fingers felt against his own. Realizing he was holding on for a little too long, he quickly pulled his hand away to run his fingers through his hair, messing up his curls a little more and tugging on the ends in his embarrassment.

Ashton’s eyes lingered for longer than he’d care to admit on Calum’s fingers in his hair, silently wishing they were his own. The more he got to know Calum, the more attracted he was to him; he struggled of course, because he was supposed to be his boss, and it would be completely out of line. Ashton had thought more than once about how Calum’s lips would feel against his own, or how many more tattoos the man had. 

“You okay?” Calum asked, “I was the one who slipped, mate. You look like you’re going to be ill.”

Ashton shook his head, laughing softly, “Just thinkin’ bout the damages you woulda cost me if you cracked that thick skull of yours on the concrete.”

With that, the two returned to work- Calum placing the tires back onto a car, Ashton trying not to watch the way his muscles moved underneath his jumpsuit. And Ashton replacing someone’s rear brakes, Calum definitely not watching the way his stomach muscles would tense on a particularly hard tug. The day seemed to pass slowly, the anticipation creeping up making Calum sweat for more reasons than just the heat.

“Ready to go?” Ashton grinned, wiping the sweat off his brow with the rag that had been hanging out of his pocket.

“Uh, yeah. Just gotta get outta my grease monkey clothes, y’know,” Calum chuckled before he turned to head for the bathroom to get changed.

By the time he had cleaned up the sweat from his face, and changed into mostly decent clothes, Ashton was already ready, leaning against his car waiting for him.  As if Calum couldn’t be any more attracted to the man, seeing him sitting against the hood of a black 1969 Ford Mustang made him practically salivate at the sight.

Ashton simply grinned when he saw him, pulling the sunglasses onto his face and pushing himself off the car, “Ever been in a car like this? S’a beaut.”

Calum hummed, shaking his head, “I’ve only ever seen cars like this, oldest car I think I’ve been in was a 1995 impala ss, I think?”

Ashton nodded, allowing the engine to roar to life, “Well then you’re in for a treat, mate.  Maybe we’ll go for a drive and I’ll let you take the wheel.  You’ve driven stick before, yeah?”

“I’ve handled a few sticks in my time,” Calum smirked, watching a look of realization cross over Ashton’s features that his meaning may not be entirely innocent, sporting a matching smirk all the way to their destination.  

Walking into the bar, Calum relaxed at the familiar warmth of the bar enveloping him; the smells invading his nostrils, and the music had him humming along quietly as he followed Ashton to a table in the back corner.

Once they settled in and had their drinks, conversation flowed easily between the two men.  Talking about where one another grew up, favourite hobbies, foods, and the like.  It wasn’t until the subject of relationships came up that Calum grew more quiet and withdrawn, which Ashton took notice of as he spoke of his ex boyfriend.

“What about you, any horrible first date or relationship stories to share?”

Calum shrugged, taking a long sip of his beer before he spoke, “I’ve only had one boyfriend, and it wasn’t the best experience.  He wasn’t out to his family yet, so he had to keep me hidden.  I didn’t so much mind that he wasn’t ready to come out, of course, what I minded was that his shame lead me to being treated pretty shitty by him.  Needless to say that relationship didn’t last very long, and I’ve been single ever since.”

Ashton listened intently, leaning his elbows onto the table so he could listen to Calum better, “I’m so sorry you experienced that.  It’s like you said it would be fine if he wasn’t prepared to come out, but the way he treated you is inexcusable.”

Calum nodded, draining the rest of his beer and setting the glass down, “It’s fine, m’doing better now.  Trying to go on some dates, but each one has been pretty shitty.”

“Hm, well the goal I’d say is to be a little less shitty every time no?”

Chuckling, Calum nodded, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if you can tell but I have no idea what I’m doing.  I almost never do.”

Ashton quirked a brow, smiling around the rim of his glass before draining his as well, “My big toe would have to agree,” he paused, looking towards the window to see if it was dark.  Seemingly pleased that the sun was beginning to set, he looked back to Calum, “Wanna go for that drive? I got the tab while you were in the bathroom.”

Calum frowned, agreeing to heading out, but not before promising Ashton that he’d pick up the tab the next time.  

When they walked out to the car, Ashton spun to face him, walking backwards while he spoke, “I was gonna let you drive, but there was somewhere I wanted to show you first.”

The question didn’t leave Calum’s lips of if he was about to get murdered, simply letting Ashton drive.  Classic rock played in the background softly, Calum enjoying the feeling of the wind through his hair as he realized Ashton was driving towards the beaches.

“Why would you want to go to the beach at night?” 

“Not technically night yet, Cal, we’re going to watch the sunset on the beach.  Well not on, but on the hood of my car!” Ashton smiled brightly over at Calum when he pulled into the parking lot.  Ashton seemed like he was driving to the furthest spot away from the entrance, and all the other cars, and it made Calum pause for a moment - maybe he really was being murdered.  “Stop looking so worried, I just like to play music and I don’t wanna disturb people around us.”

Once he had parked, Ashton encouraged Calum to get out so they could sit on the hood, leaning back against the windshield to watch the sunset.  Calum thought of how crazy that within a week his life had drastically changed; he got his dream career, made a new friend, and started to feel more like himself than he ever had.

“You okay?” Ashton asked, tilting his head in Calum’s direction, “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinkin’...” He trailed off, feeling Ashton bump his shoulder so he would continue.  “My life has improved so much just in the last week, and I have you to thank for that.  I went from this dorky dude who was stuck in the past, still hurt over his ex, to a passably cool mechanic who’s only looking forward to the future.”

Ashton smiled, shifting to move closer to Calum, their thighs touching, “Good.  I meant what I said before, the way he treated you was inexcusable.  You’re such a smart, funny, and talented man, it’s part of the reason I hired you, and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Calum’s breath caught in his throat when he turned his head to find Ashton inches away from his face.  Swallowing thickly, his eyes searched the man’s hazel ones, watching as they cast down to his lips, “What was the other part that you hired me for?”

The man licked his lips, slowly dragging his eyes back up to meet Calum’s, “Say the word and I won’t.  But I hired you because I didn’t want anyone else to have you.”

His words were true, that ever since he met Calum he knew he had to have him; on his staff, and just in his life in general.  Ashtons’ words were all it took for Calum to close the gap, his soft lips meeting Ashtons’ own.  Calum’s fingers tangled in the white shirt the man was wearing, pulling him closer.

Their kiss was heated, needy, and it didn’t take long to realize where these kisses were going to lead.  Ashton’s lips trailed along Calum’s jaw, his fingers gently coming to rest on Calum’s crotch and toying with the zipper.

“Ash, we’re in public--” “And?” “And? What if someone sees us and calls the cops?” Calum nervously glanced over his head to see if anyone was looking at them, only to be relieved that a majority of the pairings had dissipated, few cars left in the parking lot.

“Fuck ‘em, want you,” Ashton hummed, pressing kisses along Calum’s neck.  “Do you want this? Because we can stop.”

Calum knew it shouldn’t be sexy, but Ashton reassuring that it was okay seemed to only turn him on more, nodding feverishly, “Yes.  I want you, please.”

Ashton didn’t need to be told twice, his fingers working at the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down soon after.  Reconnecting their lips, Calum moaned as Ashton palmed his clothed cock.  The friction of Ashton’s hand combined with the fabric of his boxers could have been enough for Calum, not having been touched in such a way in a while, but he wanted to hold off as long as he could to see what Ashton had in mind.

Leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along his chest, Calum gasped when Ashton finally reached the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down with ease.  He could see the man lick his lips once more, which made him let out a quiet moan. 

Ashton leaned forward and began to tease the head with his tongue, hand wrapping around Calum’s length to keep it in place. A few more teasing licks, and Ashton dipped his head, taking as much of Calum in his mouth that he could all at once.  Gasping at the feeling, Calum’s eyes quickly darted around to see if anyone was watching before he tangled his fingers in Ashton’s hair.  The older man expertly bobbed his head, hollowing out his cheeks and flattening his tongue against the underside of Calum’s cock.

“Fuck.  Your mouth feels so good,” Calum whined, biting his lip to keep from being too loud, though he so wanted to.

Ashton picked up his speed, using his hand to make up the rest that he couldn’t take into his mouth.  Calum nearly came then and there when the tip hit the back of Ashton’s throat, causing him to gag slightly.  Though he wanted to, Calum knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer, especially with the way Ashton was moving his tongue against him.

“Ash, m’gonna cum,” Calum whispered, just loud enough for Ashton to hear.  The final push for Calum was when Ashton took him into his mouth again, allowing the tip to hit the back of his throat despite the gagging it caused him, the sensation sending Calum over the edge.  With a whimper of Ashton’s name, and a final tug on the older man’s hair as he came, Ashton working him through it.

Once Calum had come down, he pulled Ashton in for a kiss, smirking against his lips, “Definitely wasn’t the way I was expecting my first week to go.”

Ashton chuckled, helping Calum get redressed, “Well, welcome to the team Fonzi.”

“Fonzi?” “Dunno, when you came in you kinda reminded me of Fonzi from Happy Days,” Ashton said with a small giggle, pressing his lips to Calum’s once again.

“Please, you’re more like Fonzi.  I’m like… the b-list Fonzi, a Bonzi if you will.”

“Bonzi and Fonzi? I could get used to that.”

regular tag list:  @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​​ @g-l-pierce​ @thecurlsofgod​ @idontneedanyone​

event tag list:  @maluminspace @5sosnsfw @punkrockpreferences @castaway-cashton @readyplayermike @gigglyirwin @sexgodashton @5-secondsofcolor​ @mysticalhood​ @mermaidcashton​ @koalacal​ @loveroflrh​ @calumsmermaid​ @wildmichaelflower​ @goth5sos​ @h0tsos​ @fallinluke​ @jae-writes-fanfiction​ @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles​ @sublimehood​ @shal-pal​ @cashtonasfuck​ @kingcals​ @calumcest​

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Two Live Crew Job

leverage 2.07

Sophie: I love the symbolists.

- - - - -

🥰 I love when the ot3 are together in one frame 🥰

- - - - -

the dogs playing poker painting tho

- - - - -

Eliot: Any sudden movement's gonna cause displacement of the water. It'll set it off.

Parker: Is that C-4?

Sophie: Oh!

(Nate grabs Parker’s hand before she can touch the vase)

Sophie: Parker... please don't poke at the motion-sensitive bomb.

Nate: So, uh... secret admirer?

Sophie: Well, it's no secret they want me dead.

Hardison: What do you think, man?

Eliot: I'd have to reach into the vase to disarm it. It'd go off.

eliot’s lips quivered when he said that bc he’s so nervous for her im-

- - - - -

Parker: Do you have any instant pudding?

(everyone looks at Parker in surprise. Cut to Parker pouring pudding into the vase)

Parker: The powder hardens the liquid, tricks the bomb into thinking it's not moving.

Eliot: Should give you a little wiggle room. Very little

MASTERMIND PARKER

- - - - -

(mourners are gathered around a casket with a line of black cars parked nearby. An open casket shows Sophie lying inside. Eliot is standing at a podium)

Eliot: She had a way of taking care of people, you know? She was a sister... she was best friend, all rolled into one. I'm gonna miss you, Soph-- So-O-O-O-O much, Katherine.

(Eliot leaves the podium. Hardison stands to let Parker walk by and she approaches the podium. Nate stands at the back of the crowd, Eliot joins him)

Parker: Katherine and I have known each other forever. Almost two years. Yeah, I know that probably doesn't sound like a lot to you, but it is to me. I never really had many friends. Which is why losing her is so hard. (sighs) It's so creepy. I mean, she's really dead. I was just talking to her and now she's just laying there. She was just laying there.

(Nate coughs and Hardison gets up to go to Parker)

Parker: Can you hear me?

Hardison: Parker. I'm -- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, y'all. What – What she really means is just, um, Katherine was like family. And sometimes, friends are all the family that you have. So... you -- you good? Come on. Just – let -- just keep going. You got all hysterical and emotional

- - - - -

btw there is at least one door from behind the briefing monitors which means they have at least one extra room (most likely more) from the adjacent apartment eliot knocked the wall down from

they have guest rooms or something back there for if anyone needs a place to crash

- - - - -

Sophie: We used to work together. We did the Copenhagen job in '97, the Berlin Polytech job in '98, and, Nate, remember – Remember that great run in Moscow?

Nate: "That great run"? I chased you for three months.

Sophie: Well, uh, technically, y-you chased us. Sorry.

Hardison: Are you saying that you saw other teams before us?

Parker: Really just another Nate before Nate.

Eliot: Let me ask you a question -- what bugs you more, is it the fact that he was with Sophie first or that he outsmarted you?

Nate: Moving on

eliot puts his arms over the couch and behind parker and I’ll take it + them grinning at each other seeing nate’s discomfort

- - - - -

mikel is wearing flannel in this one and you can now take bisexual mikel from my cold, dead hands

- - - - -

Sophie: Wrong place, wrong time. Starke must have seen me, and now that I’m one of the good guys, decided to get rid of me, because...why? Because... Because I know his scams. Because... I know his favorite scam.

[Warehouse]

(Stark’s team is sitting on crates looking at monitors as he goes over the job)

Starke: Cafe and a moonlit terrace.

Sophie (voice over): The Mona Lisa variant.

[Briefing Area]

Parker: Oo! (claps) That was the first one I learned!

- - - - -

(Hardison is drinking orange soda and working on a computer as Sophie watches)

Sophie: I'm not dead. I'm right here, Parker. So, this is, um, it's what you do, right? You take footage of us on cons and you -- you -- you -- download it into that?

Hardison: Yeah, I analyze it, I monitor comms, I scan for a police frequencies, I -- You had no idea I do all this, did you? Well – d-does nobody respect the van? The van is important. What -- What is that?

Sophie: It's lemon-Zest tea. I got to tell you, it's -- It's a little bit -- It's a little bit whiffy in here.

Hardison: It smells like hard work. That's what it smells like. D-- Whiffy

sophie has no idea what hardison does and does not like the van smell. hardison is ready to go off

- - - - -

Sophie: That was some nice things you said at my funeral.

Hardison: Wait. We -- We trust Nate to make sure the plan works. We trust you to make sure we’re all okay.

- - - - -

Starke: Word is on the street that you run the nastiest crew this side of the Atlantic.

Nate: Well… what?

Starke: Come on. Everybody knows. You robbed a bank and you -- you framed a judge. You rigged a jury to steal a million-Dollar settlement. I hear that you even conned the Irish mob out of a couple of million dollars just this year. Now, that's style.

Nate: That's one way of looking at it.

Sophie: Listen, Nate, if you tell him the truth about us, we're blown

- - - - -

Hardison: I know this style. This is Chaos.

(computer screen flashes signal found. Hardison grabs his keyboard and heads for the back door of the van)

[Parking Lot]

(Hardison exits his van and a little ways down the parking lot, Chaos exits his van with a laptop in his hands. They square off like an old west gun fight)

Hardison: Chaos. I heard you were in jail. Guess I was wrong.

Chaos: Hardison. I heard you sucked. Guess I was right.

(they eye each other across the lot, their fingers twitching. Abruptly they raise their keyboard and laptop and begin typing while car alarms start going off)

this wild wild west showdown tho

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, now, we know Starke. This guy goes by the name Apollo. I've chased him a couple of times -- infiltration, physical security.

Parker: People in that line of high-risk work tend to be very unstable. We could use that. Write that down.

(the rest of the team exchange glances)

🥰 she’s sitting next to eliot with popcorn between them 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, this person here's ex-Mossad, sealed records. Mikel Dayan used to work both sides as a mercenary.

Eliot: Mikel Dayan. I know that name.

Hardison: You were scared to fight a girl.

Eliot: She'd mop the floor with you, Hardison.

Hardison: I don't care.

Eliot: Seriously. She actually killed a guy once with a mop. It's a funny story, actually. (starts gesturing time parker) She broke the mop and took --

Hardison: Eliot. Eliot. (turns back to monitors) Now, this here's Colin Mason, otherwise known by his hacker handle as "Chaos." As... whatever. Hacked the pentagon, the NSA. The CIA computer guys call him the Kobayashi Maru.

Eliot: What the hell is that?

Hardison: None of y'all got that? Seriously?

Parker: Star Trek.

Hardison: Thank you

parker’s reluctant fistbumb I love them + it’s officially canon that she’s seen at least some of the movies

- - - - -

Nate: I tried to say to her I’m sorry, you know, and I don't –

Security: Because, as men, we're taught to hide our emotions. You share or you pay the price.

Nate: Yeah

- - - - -

Mikel: You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?

(Eliot walks forward, taking off his jacket and hanging it on some pipe)

Eliot (in Hebrew): Not unless she hits me first.

(they approach each other and begin to fight, blocking each other until Mikel hits Eliot in the chest, knocking him back. He touches where her blow hit.)

Eliot (in Hebrew): That counts

let me just say I LOVE that they had a woman hitter

- - - - -

Starke: What is going on, guys?

Guard: Motion sensors went off, sir.

Starke: I already checked that out. Everything's secure. And who's this?

Guard: Uh... he just got lost. No problem.

Starke: Sir, you okay?

Nate: Yeah, I’m fine.

Starke: I'm Nathan Ford. I'm with the insurance company.

(Nate gives Starke an irritated look)

- - - - -

Parker: What kind of bird did you use?

Apollo: North American Kestrel. It's small-Bodied, but its wingspan is expansive enough that it sets off the motion detectors.

Parker: I would've gone with the Scarlet Tanager. Similar wingspan, but the brighter colors are more distracting.

Apollo: Yeah. That was my second choice.

(Apollo scrambles forward in the ductwork. Parker also scrambles forward, headed another way)

- - - - -

eliot taking off his shirt too? equal rights

- - - - -

Starke: Now, why would you want to kill Sophie?

Chaos: Come on, Starke. (gathering equipment) I had set up the perfect double-cross, and then you want to go and bring in a new player at the last minute? "Oh, and by the way, guys, that new player is gonna be Sophie Devereaux." There's no way I’m gonna try to out-con Sophie Devereaux! And I hate to break it to you, Starke, but she was the one that everybody was always scared of. It was never you.

- - - - -

[McRory’s Bar]

(Parker and Apollo sit at a table with locks)

Parker: Go.

(they begin picking locks to see who is fastest. Across the room, Eliot and Mikel sit at a table)

Mikel: I can top that. (pulls her shirt aside to show a scar on her shoulder) Frag grenade, Somalia.

Eliot (pulls up his sleeve to show scar on his arm): Myanmar. Sniper.

Mikel: I was a sniper in Myanmar for a while.

Eliot: When?

Mikel: 2003.

(Eliot looks surprised. Mikel holds up the handcuffs and Eliot quickly pulls her hand down)

Eliot: Oh, no, no, no, no, no. We can't have that.

Hardison (walking by): Handcuffs. Y'all nasty

(eliot has a handcuff kink and was probably pegged within an inch of his life that night. I said what I said.)

- - - - -

(Sophie stands looking down at her grave. The headstone for Katherine has been replaced with one for Sophie Devereaux. Nate approaches and stands next to the grave)

Sophie: Starke was right. I'm not Sophie Devereaux anymore. I haven't been for ages. I... you killed her, you and your silly crusade.

Nate: It's just a name.

Sophie: No, they're not just names, not to me. All my aliases, every one of them, I -- I know when their parents died. I know when they had their first kiss.

[damfinofanfiction]

Chapter 5: Their Night Out

Goodness! I thought it was an easier chapter, but it turned into a longer one. I hope you like this!

It’s been a couple of days since Gail heard something concerning about Buster Keaton that she should never know. Gail was in her room which was meant to be for a maid. It was 11 am, she decided to get up, get dressed, and apply her dark makeup. She tried to stop thinking about Keaton, but she couldn't. Why would he betray the mother of his children, The same woman who he cast in “Our Hospitality”? Then, a thought occurred to her, what if Mayzie is lying? It is hard to believe that she would make up a fib about one of Hollywood's elite. Suddenly, her train of thought stopped when she heard knocking on a door.

“Come in,” Gail answered, brushing her hair.

Sally slowly opened the door, sending Gail two pieces of toast because she missed breakfast. She said to her housemate, “Bae it’s unlike me, but, I’m a bit worried, you aren't yourself since after we got home from the Venice café last Thursday.” She went in to sit on the edge of the bed, “What’s eating ya?”

Gail turned away from the mirror to look at her, “Sal, how much do you know Mayzie?”

Sally shook her head, “Nah, I don’t pay attention to the whole gang.”

“Do you think she would ever lie to anyone?”

She leaned on the bedpost, “I do think she might have lied about her age.”

She took a deep breath before saying, “At the party, she told me she went out with a famous actor.” Sally’s face brightens up in astonishment. Then Gail continued with “And he’s married.” Her brows, then furrowed, “What?”

“She also told me not to tell anyone.” She moved next to sally, “What do you think?”

“If she were lying, she would say he’s a bachelor.”

Gail looked down feeling disappointed, “Well, I hope that isn’t true.”

“It doesn’t matter Bae, this is Hollywood, people sleep around.”

She turned to sally, “You sleep around.”

“Yes, but not to married people!” Gail wanted to weep if it weren’t, for Sally’s presence and her freshly applied makeup, she finally took the toast and ate it “Did Mayzie tell you who it was?”

Gail responded while brushing off the crumbs from her lap, “Yes, but I cannot tell.”

“Then leave it as it is.”

Gail puts aside the half-eaten toast  and lies down, feeling aggravated, “I need to clear my head.” 

Sally lies to join Gail when she suggests, “How about we go out for the night?”

Gail was uncertain, but, she nonetheless responded with, “So long as I get you home at a reasonable time, I think it's a good plan.”

Sally suggested, “We can go dancing and then to a speakeasy”

Gail nodded in agreement, “When’ll that happen?” 

Sally responded with a blank expression, “Not if my aunt is occupied.” They realized that Lenore could get worried ill with both of them being out at night. 

Gail said to her, “If she falls busy, We’ll see if that time comes.” 

Sally held her hand, “It’s a deal.”

2 weeks later, Lenore was set to go to a friend’s house for a game of bridge, leaving the women free to go downtown. They went out of the house in their short evening dresses like flappers. Sally was dressed in red and wears her stockings rolled, unlike Gail, who left her stockings unrolled along with her black and white dress. They went by taxi for dinner and dancing. The nightclub they attended was not elite, but it was to their taste. They danced to jazz and the foxtrot. Before they exhaust themselves, they retreated to the Speakeasy by taxi.

After they are dropped off, Sally and Gail walked on the pavement until they reached the toy store. The blonde took out a tiny piece of paper from her clutch, “It’s got to be that address.” Gail detected the alley on the side of the store, “I see four trash cans lined up here”. Sally smiled, “Then this must be the Joint.” Located at the end of the alleyway, they climbed down the steps to get to the door. 

Gail clung to the rail in caution, “How secure is it?”

“The speakeasy changes passwords every week, thankfully I remained in contact with my ex Roger. I hope he’s kept out of jail.” Sally knocked on the door. A pair of eyes appeared from the peephole. “Password?”

 She replied, “Davis sent me.” 

It was opened by a man in overalls, who padded both of their bodies thoroughly to make sure neither of them had police badges.

 “Hey Jackass! Do you do this to all the patrons or just the women?” Sally squawked. 

“Quiet that’s my business!” The man yelled as he examined their clutch purses.  After inspection, he said, “You’re good to go,”

The friends were let into the room as Gail went curious when she noticed two passageways, then she was notified that one was to be discreet. They went through the main passageway to a chamber designed to look like a saloon. The Gin mill does not have a traditional clientele, as its patrons come from various races. The musician was Hispanic, while the bartender was Asian. Gail was intrigued at the diversity but remained cautious for rough drunks. They are only carousing men, hopefully not threatening. 

Sally walked to the serving area to order drinks while Gail went to find seats for them. She found a booth in an area that was somehow unoccupied except for an overweight man sitting in the back. Gail thought that guy looked very familiar, but she prefers to enjoy her evening. 

Gail raised her hand to get Sally’s attention. As she joins her on a booth, a server brought them complimentary potato chips and water. Though they were satisfied from dinner, Sally couldn’t help herself for a bite. 

Sally was elated when the drinks appeared on their table. She handled her glass saying, “Oh I miss you.” before downing her giggle water. However, Gail was nervous since she had never had real alcohol before. “How can I be careful?” Sally told her, “Drink slowly”.” As she took her first sip she tingled to the burning sensation in her mouth and then her throat. Her reaction caused her friend to laugh, which infuriated her. Sally then congratulated her, “Welcome to my world.” And after a moment, they clink their glasses together. 

Not long after, Sally nearly spits out her drink, whispered to Gail, “Bae, look behind you.” She reacted in surprise at the sight of Buster Keaton, who was shaking hands with the overweight fellow. 

Gail nearly slammed her face on the table when she said, “Of all the Gin mills in Los Angeles at this hour of the day, he has to go here.”

Confused, she said to her raven-haired friend, “I thought he was your favorite.”

“I did before I hear-,” Gail paused before she spilled the beans.

However, Sally was quick to figure out, “Oh shit. That was Buster?”

Gail covered her face rather than admitting, but eventually nodded her head.

Sally did not react as strongly as her friend did but, was still in disbelief, “That explains why you’re feeling down and out.”

Gail is so upset that she took a few sips from her drink.

Sally patted her shoulder, “It doesn't matter if that's a bunch of crap or not, don't let that get your goat, you're supposed to sit back and calm your nerves.” She gestures to Buster, “Let that Keaton fellow hang out with the fat guy.”

She raised her eyebrows as she finally identified the man, “Sal, that’s Roscoe Arbuckle!” 

Gail didn't recognize Arbuckle at first because he hasn't appeared on film for over 3 years. Before the scandal, he was a headliner in films under the nickname, “Fatty”, and he had previously worked in keystone comedies. Her first exposure to Buster was when he started his own film career working with him.

Sally went perplexed, “Huh, I forgot all about him.”

As Gail was touched upon Buster's appreciation for his friend during hard times, she concluded that perhaps something good existed in Keaton after all.

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

“How’s business treating you, pal?” Buster asked, sitting across his friend.

Arbuckle shrugged, “Better than last time. The Tuxedo Comedies had me directing another short. It’s a comedic take on John Ford’s The Iron Horse.”

Keaton lounged on his seat, “My guess is you would be working with good ol’ Al St. John.”

“You are correct Bus. Speaking of which, he asked me for a favor for you.”

Buster responded with a sure nod.

“You know that Rocket Train you used for Our hospitality, he wants to borrow the Locomotive for the short.”

Grinning, he replied, “Well, I got to use it anyway.” Later, joking, he said, "Next thing you want me to be in the movie as well?” 

They laughed at the thought, but Arbuckle would consider it. Soon, their drinks show up with Buster having told the server that both of them are for him as he is worried they would be spit on by the server.

Roscoe asked, “Enough about me, How did Seven Chances go?”

Buster tapped the table as he responded, “I've got it, I came up with the perfect gag to end the sequence.” 

Roscoe cheerfully said,  “Good for you, how will that go then?” 

Buster wiggled his finger, “Ah, You have to watch my film to find out.” 

He raised his glass slightly, “Also I would like to thank you again for including Doris in Seven Chances.” 

“No problem, chief.” 2 friends clinked their glasses together.

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

Gail was drinking water when she asked, “Are they still here?”

Sally looked behind and said “Yep.”

Seeing the waiter come back, Gail made a suggestion, “You know what, how about if I buy him and Mr. Arbuckle a drink?”

Sally smiled seeing her clever side, “Getting his attention? I like it” she chipped in, “Let me pay for one of them!” 

Soon after, the server brought Buster and Roscoe 2 smaller glasses of liquor. Before they had a chance to speak, the server informed them that the drinks were paid for by the ladies at the booth. Gail shyly waved as the Server pointed to her and Sally. 

Roscoe half-wittingly questioned him, “Which one of these dames you will be taking in?”

Buster was offended. “Stop that! You know very well my heart belongs to my wife!” 

Roscoe half-heartedly said, “Yeah, the one you cheated on after she kicked you out of the bedroom.” Buster hushed him, concerned that someone would hear. 

As Roscoe was apologizing to Buster, Gail recognized Buster’s body language, in a suspecting manner, perhaps Arbuckle knows something.

Within an hour, Sally had ordered another round and asked Gail to mingle with the patrons, but she preferred instead to observe the body language of a screen comedian and his rotund friend. By the time sally returned she felt intoxicated but not too drunk. Gail, who was now seated next to her, gave her chips to counteract the effects of the alcohol. 

After all that carousing, Roscoe stood up and put on his hat and coat, “I’d better go home. Doris won’t like it if I leave her alone too long.”

The friends exchanged parting words and Roscoe left to the same door that his protégé had entered an hour before. Gail frowned seeing this, thinking that the stone face will have to leave as well. 

Gail sighed, “And I wondered just how innocent Buster really is.”

Sally went, “Screw it, go talk to him.”

Gail was bewildered. She thought sure after the time she encountered the comedian in person, she is certain she will pass out again. She told sally “I don’t know, after what happened on the set-”

Sally patted her cheek, “Bae, you made it so far without blacking out, you’ll be fine.”

Gail feeling unsure, took one more sip to ease her nerves, got up from her table, and straighten her dress.

Sally also stood up to whisper to her friend, “If you do not find out anything about him, I can talk to that Mayzie girl.” Then she pats her in the back before sitting down, “Good luck.”

Gail got Keaton’s attention when she stood near him.

She waved and smiled when introducing herself, “Hi, my name is Gail Anders.” She was trying hard not to blush, “In case you didn’t remember me, I was on one of the brides in the chase sequence in Seven Chances.” 

Keaton nodded, “Oh of course. I want to thank you for the drinks.”

"You're welcome, It's all we can do.” she pointed to sally behind her, “She helped pay for them. Her name is Sally.” 

Gail had her hands on her back to hide her fidgeting fingers, “I want to tell you I’ve been a fan of your work. I even saw your films with Mr. Arbuckle.” 

He didn’t say anything, he was studying her looks. He only nodded at her to respond.

Behind her happy expression, she was seconds away from telling him that he was with Mayzie and asking if he is dating other women when Buster finally chirped out, “Didn’t you work at the Café on Venice Beach?”

 Her hands stopped fidgeting, “Yes, I used to be chorus girl with Sally. Why did you ask?”

“I was there once around last year.”

She went wide-eyed, “You’re, kidding? How did I not notice?”

Buster admitted, “I was on the very back. I was good at blending.” He also recalled, “I think it was that jump rope sequence.” Gail remembered that one. The chorus girls were jumping rope for the act. She was considered lucky to not have fallen out of the stage.

He praised her, “I thought you did very well.”

She blushed hearing this, “Thanks. I currently work at Mack Sennett’s studio.” Buster asked, “Have you played lead roles?” She replied “No I just work on background roles. Sometimes as a bathing beauty.” 

“I think you deserved to be in the movies”

Gail was blessed hearing that, “Thank you again. Gail continued, “Oh, and I love Sherlock Jr. It’s such a great show. I saw it four times. My boyfriend didn't think it was that funny. Though the effects are amazing.” 

Buster seemed thrilled to hear that considering it didn't make much money as his latest film The Navigator did. As Gail attempted to talk more about the effects, a clunk came from behind her.

Gail turned and saw that Sally drank up the alcohol left behind on the table, and tipped the glass. She turned back to the stone face and said “I think I have to get her home soon.”

 He asked, “Is she your sister?”

She shook her head, “No, I just live with her and her aunt.”

He went puzzled, “Why here?”

Her eyes trailed off, “I don’t have an idea. Sally told me she wanted to take advantage of the growing real estate.”

Buster was close to chuckling, “No, no, I meant where are your folks?”

She sat straight as she told him, “They are in Nevada. They were nervous about me moving to Los Angeles after the scandal. I did so anyway and then sally took me in from that cheap unpleasant place.” she went, “Regardless, I thought it was a nice thing of you to check on Mr. Arbuckle.”

“Roscoe? Thanks. I owe everything to him.”

Sally whispered in her ear, “Has she told about me.” Gail didn’t know that her friend was so close to her that she frightened her. Buster stood up from his chair to get ready to leave “How about I escort you fellers through the passageway?”

Gail nodded at his gesture, “Sure just let me leave a tip first.” 

With Sally seemingly drunk, Gail has her hold her friend to keep her in place while Keaton led them back to the entrance where they saw that the man in overalls is now napping.  

After they reached the door, Gail turned to Buster saying, “Will I ever see you again, Buster?”

“As long as you catch me on Seven Chances,” he said. Gail giggled at his reply.

Her soft statement was, “Maybe I'll audition for your next movie. Goodbye now.” Keaton watched as they departed the Speakeasy.

As they got out of the alleyway Sally asked, “Well, did you find out anything about Keaton?”

Gail was raising her hand to attract a cab, “I can’t do it. I don’t care anymore. I know he is a very trustworthy friend.”

Sally went, “Okay if he is a cheat. He needs to stop that before he goes to hell.”

Gail was happy to chat with her favorite screen comedian but when she mentioned her boyfriend to Keaton she suspected that she might have struck his nerve. It is not clear that he showed it, but it is possible.

Soon, their ride home shows up and got on the passenger seat. As Sally leaned on her friend she commented, “Oh and you aren't kidding about the accent. Some night out huh?”

Note: that the film that Roscoe was talking about. it was the Iron Mule (1925). There is even an uncredited appearance from Buster Himself! Try to watch it!

also Gail couldn't hear Roscoe and Buster. that part is supposed to be POV for both Buster and Gail.

[olivia200312]

Reunited~ RID2015! Optimus x Cybertronian! Reader

Plot: Y/N was on a mission with Drift but when she came back, there was a big surprise for her. Optimus came back after he flew off to Cybertron.

Warning: I NEVER saw RID2015 so there will be mistakes found! I apologise!

Head area: Brain: Processor / Brain Module Head: Helm Face: Face plate Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor Eye brow: Optical Ridge Eyes: Optics Mouth: Intake Lips: Dermas Teeth: Denta/Dentas Tongue: Glossa

Chest area: Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour: Chest plate Back plate Mid-section plating Neck guard Side plating

Arm area: Arms: Arms / Restarlueus Forearms: Bitarlueus Hands: Servos Fingers: Digits

Arm armour: Gantlets Shoulder pads Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate Thighs: Tibulen Calves: Cadulen Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour: Skirt plates Aft plate / Skid plate Thigh guard Ankle guard

General/Internal components: Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question. Veins: Fual lines Stomach: Tanks Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating. Heart: Spark Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

Note: the pic goes to the owner!

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

Y/N was a young beautiful femme that was an Autobot warrior. She was a member of The Bee Team. Before she arrivied in planet Earth, she was fought along in the civil war that Megatron caused. She fought by Optimus' side and always protected him. She knew him ever since they both were sparklings.

Bumblebee or just Bee was obivously the leader of the team. He once looked completely different, but then he started to look cooler and powerful. Don't get it wrong. He was a cute scout that couldn't speak but only let out sounds. Optimus was even a mentor of Bumblebee so the scout learned a lot from him. Optimus was a very smart Prime. He knew strong and smart words.

Anyway, when Bee killed Megatron, Optimus made Bumblebee warrior before he went on a journey with Wheeljack to retrieve the AllSpark, the source of Cybertronian life only to return to a planet attacked by Unicron and his minions, though Optimus was able to defeat the chaos bringer once and for all by trapping him, the AllSpark and the Matrix...

Y/N missed Optimus a lot. I mean, who doesn't? He was a strong and smart leader. He'll do anything to protect the ones he loved. Especially Y/N. She missed the Prime already when she didn't see him anymore when he flew off with Wheeljack. She was even in love with him! But what she didn't know was that the Prime was deeply in love with her. He admired her beauty and personlity.

Y/N joined The Bee Team and Bumblebee was of course the leader. There were new Autobots too. There were: Sideswipe, Strongarm, Grimlock, Drift, Slipstream, Jetstorm and Fixit. Let me tell you a bit about them.

Sideswipe was the rebellious "bad boy" of the Bee Team who transforms into a red street racing-ready sports car and also forms the left arm of Ultra Bee. Sideswipe was first seen playing around at Kaon Plaza before being apprehended by Strongarm.

Strongarm was a cadet in the Cybertronian Elite Guard and Bumblebee's subordinate who transforms into a blue and white police-modified pickup truck and also forms the right arm of Ultra Bee. She often worries about abiding by the law and following protocol which in certain cases jeopardizes the mission.

Grimlock was a Dinobot serving as the team's muscle who transforms into a mechanical and also forms the legs of Ultra Bee, much to his disappointment. Originally being recruited as a Decepticon for committing , he ended up imprisoned on the Alchemor, he later becomes an Autobot after gaining the team's trust, and eventually gains Autobot symbols in place of his Decepticon logos following "True Colors".

Drift was formerly a Decepticon known as Deadlock, Drift is an Autobot who transforms into an orange samurai-like car resembling a cross between a Bugatti Veyron  and a Gumpert Apollo  and also forms the sword of Ultra Bee. In "Hunting Season", he came to Earth to collect the bounty placed on Bumblebee. He later joins the team to study under Bumblebee in "One of Our Mini-Cons is Missing".

Slipstream and Jetstorm were Drift's Mini-Con students who can both transform into vehicles that can attach themselves onto Drift's wrists. Both of them were originally ex-criminals that were the students of Shadow Raker before being taken in by Drift.

Fixit  was a hyperactive yet faulty-wired who originally served as the steward and guard of the Alchemor and later serves as the Autobots' caretaker and medic. He also provides the identification of the escaped Decepticons and reports their location.

So as you can see, there were some of them that were special. There's a Dinobot in the team, an Autobot that was once a Decepticon, etc.

Y/N liked almost all of them, even though some of them were aftholes and jerks.

But did you know that there was also a team named All-Stars? There are Autobots that you were pretty familiar with. There were: Optimus Prime, Jazz, Windblade, Ratchet, Undertone and Bulkhead.

Optimus Prime was originally thought to have died after the events of Transformers Prime Beast Hunters: Predacons Rising , he was resurrected by the Primes of the past to help stop their rogue brother Megatronus, whose evil would result in the destruction of both Earth and Cybertron.

Jazz was a friend of Bumblebee and Sideswipe's idol who transforms into a race car. In "Can You Dig It?", he came to Earth after receiving the distress signal from the Alchemor after it crashed and was sent there by the Autobot High Council.

Windblade was  a charming yet somewhat arrogant female Autobot who transforms into a red and black VTOL jet, making her the only Autobot in the series with a vehicle form capable of flight.

Ratchet was a grumpy veteran Autobot medic and a long-time friend of Optimus Prime who transforms into a white and red ambulance resembling a Ford E-350. He was sent by the new Autobot High Council to hunt down the war criminals where he encounters Bumblebee's group in "Decepticon Island, Pt. 1".

Undertone was a silent Mini-Con partnered with Ratchet who transforms into a buzzsaw vehicle in the show. In the toyline, he is a Cyclone Mini-Con who turns into a sphere.

Bulkhead was an Autobot Wrecker and one of Bumblebee's old teammates who transforms into a green SUV resembling a Lamborghini LM002.

It was of course nice and fun to see the familiar Autobots back from the past. But it looks like some of them decided to start a different chapter in their lives. Like for exaplemples: The team wasn't called Team Prime anymore ever since Optimus left with Wheeljack on their journey to complete an important mission. Bumblebee made his own group called The Bee Team and Y/N decided to join him. Bee was secretly happy that one of his friends decided to join him, even though he had new teammates and was the leader. Good that he learned how to have good leadership from Optimus. It was strange in the beginning to get separated from your old teammates when you were in Team Prime at the time. It was especially weird for Bee and Y/N. Bee missed his human friend Raf. He was the only one that could understand him when he lost his voicebox at the time. Y/N was in fact Smokescreen's best friend. Even though he was rookie, he was fun and funny. They only saw each other as siblings and nothing more, which it made Optimus secretly happy. Sadly, Smokescreen didn't appear anymore when the Team Prime separated and it made Y/N sad. She had to be strong and move on to protect Earth and humans.

There were of course other Autobots but you can check it out for yourself.

Anyway, Y/N was now with Drift in the Energon Mine. Fixit picked up a signal that there was Energon and he needed it for projects that he was working on. Bee commanded Y/N and Drift go together.

"Do you see any Energon?" Y/N asked while walking next to him.

"No," Drift said.

They continued to walk, looking for Energon. After almost an hour passed by, Drift found it and it made Y/N happy. They transformed into their vehicles forms and drove back to the base. Y/N was a fast F/C Lamborghini. Y/N remembered when she was on a mission with others, Optimus would lead when all of them were in their vehicles forms. It was Team Prime at the time. Agent Fowler was in Optimus' truck, honking at an old white car infront of Optimus. Y/N, Bee and Bulkhead were following Optimus. It was good old times, but sadly, good times had to end.

When Y/N and Drift arrived in the base, they both transformed. Denny and Russel came up to them. Oh yeah, did I ever told you that Denny and Russel know about Autobots existince? Luckily, they decided to keep it a secret.

"Did you get the Energon?" Russel asked.

Drift and Y/N nodded together and Drift pulled the Energon out. "Here." He then gave the Energon to Russel.

Russel smiled. "Thanks!" He then ran off to Fixit and Denny followed.

Russel was Denny's son by the way.

Bee walked up to Drift and Y/N with a smile. "Good job both of you. You may leave now." He then walked off.

Drift nodded at Y/N as a goodbye and left. He went probably to deal with his students that can be troublemakers.

Y/N then went to her berthroom. Once she entered, she closed the door behind her. She felt sad. She missed her leader. Her Prime. She hoped for a long time that he would return. She even had a pic frame of herself and Optimus on top of her nightstand. Once she looked at the pic frame, she felt tears build up in her beautiful E/C optics. "Where are you?"

Then, out of nowhere, she felt a servo on her shoulderplate. Thinking that it was Bee, she responded: "What is it, Bee?" She didn't turned around to see.

Then there was the familiar chuckle. "I'm not Bee."

That caught Y/N's attention and she turned around to see... Optimus Prime himself! She was so shocked. "O-Optimus..." She was lost.

Optimus showed his usual gentle soft smile. "Hello, Y/N."

Y/N's tears rolled down and tackled Optimus in a hug. The Prime chuckled and hugged her back close. He missed her a lot.

Y/N couldn't hold herself. She grabbed Optimus' face plate and smashed her dermas against his. She was kissing him roughly and with passion. She could feel that the Prime was shocked but kissed her back. They were kissing roughly and deep passion, because they missed each other a lot. Finally they can be together again.

I hope you all enjoyed this one shot! I apologise for mistakes! Requests are open!

Optimus Prime versions I accept: TFP, Bayverse and RID2015

Reader versions I accept: hybrid, human and Cybertronian.

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Parts 4, 5 & 6)

Summary: You and Roger go for a drive around Ibiza after which, he makes a shocking admission. When you arrive home, you find out that your privacy has been well and truly violated. But what does that mean for you and Roger?

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

💫 Catch up here! 💫

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​​; @sarahgurl09​​

Notes: Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! I’ll post the next parts when this reaches 50+ notes! They’re cute and you’ll love them!

[Part 4]

Puffing out your cheeks, you eyed your reflection. Your heart thudded inside your ribcage with the urgency of a caged bird pining for freedom. Roger waited for you in his bright red Porsche – you knew that. But it provided no impetus to make your legs move. So you threw handfuls of freezing water over your face then swiped some blood-red rouge over your lips. That always perked you up.

You took a few wavering paces backwards. 

Your form slipped into view for you to appraise the whole package. Your fingers grazed over the fabric of your candy-striped dress, flattening out the creases. This was the kind of playful dress that Hollywood starlets donned on their days off, but it had a long way to go before it made you feel like one. You swished your hips, allowing the a-line skirt to flow like liquid around your body. A scarf lay beside the sink, curling into the damp bowl. Slipping it from the counter and draping it around your head, you let the sumptuous silk to kiss your skin. To finish the look, you reached for your sunglasses, propping the thick, black frames over the bridge of your nose. 

Assessing the changes to your appearance, you concluded, with an approving nod, that you looked like a film star from the 50’s – straight from the silver screen. Roger wouldn’t be able to resist you.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself.

See, Roger’s ex wife wasn’t pretty; she was drop-dead gorgeous, with her mane of dark shaggy hair and her big doe-like eyes. He hadn’t told you much about her, but you knew she had outstayed her welcome in Roger’s mind, and she’d be even harder to evict. The pictures tucked inside Roger’s nightstand told you that much. You wondered whether he’d take them out and imagine what life might have been like had they stayed together, every time he felt alone. You wondered whether anything could compare – whether you were enough for him.

And that was enough to make tears form in your eyes, stinging like the icy wind of a winter’s morning. They didn’t have time trickle down your cheeks before you shunted them with your wrist.

You pulled your back ruler-straight and gave your reflection a stern look to bolster yourself. Gulping down a searing mouthful of air, you turned. Sweeping out of the bathroom.

You scurried along the hall and down the stairs and into the foyer.

Of course, Roger waited outside. You heard his foot blipping against the throttle with the impatience of a racehorse holed up in the gate. He, in his little red Porsche, was ready to go.

At the threshold, you could see the willowy threads of smoke curling up into the air from the drivers’ side of the car. Roger’s back was turned, but you could tell he looked as gorgeous as ever.

The morning glow caressed your face as you stepped out into the courtyard, adorned with neat rows of plants and lewd sculptures that were oh so Roger. This was the first time you had seen it for yourself and it didn’t disappoint; the sweet smell of freesias and exotic blooms wafted through the air, clashing with the sickening scent of petrol pumping from the exhaust of your ride.

Your legs trembled more with every step you took until you came to a halt at the passenger side of the car, looking down at Roger. He was lost in his own world, sinking his foot down on the accelerator and taking in the roar of the engine, and a rock and roll radio record from before your time. 

You cleared your throat to draw his attention.

He looked up, his eyebrows peaking above the rims of his sunglasses.

“Like it?” you mumbled, giving him an awkward twirl that made the folds of your dress billow outwards. 

Through a mouthful of cigarette, Roger purred. “I love it.”

It took nothing for Roger to fluster you. You looked down at your dress as heat travelled to your face. “Thanks.”

“Are you gonna hop in or am I going for a drive on my own?”

You nodded – like a gleeful teenager staying out past her curfew – and hopped in beside a roguish looking Roger.

No sooner had the door thudded shut, but the power of the car pushed you back into the plush leather seat. You had to claw at your headscarf to keep it in place when an almighty gale ripped through the cabin. He sped along the twists and turns of the coast; it had you fearing for your life in less time it took to finish one song on the radio. And it didn’t help that every so often, Roger would glance over at you. He spent more time with his eyes on you than on the road.

Roger must have noticed the swell of horror that gripped your body because, after ten minutes of silence, he pulled into a passing place. He whipped off his sunglasses, exposing a furrowed brow and concerned eyes that matched his seafront backdrop. The lines around them showed his age. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Travel sickness.”

A mischievous smirk grew on Roger’s features. “Do you want a go?”

“What?” You scowled. “Driving this?”

“Yeah!”

“No, I’m fine thanks!”

“Scared you might like it?”

“Scared I might crash!”

“You won’t! And besides, what a way to die. Looking at this?” Roger wittered, waving his hand across his face. 

A moment of silence wedged between you.

His attempt at persuasion made you cave. “Oh, alright, then!”

You flung yourself out and hauled around to the driver’s side, while Roger got in the passenger seat. The car looked daunting. Screens and dials and instrument clusters sprawled around you, none of which you knew how to operate. It didn’t have a gearshift. This wasn’t your battered old Ford Fiesta. Pushing the start button, the engine roared to life and died down into a dull thrum that vibrated through your entire body. You searched around and slipped the new-fangled dial into drive. Like a bullet, the car hurtled down the deserted road. 

You could have driven Roger’s Porsche forever. But you settled for all day, as you stopped at various beauty spots around Ibiza to admire the view. You always thought Ibiza was for hardcore ravers and partygoers, and the odd stag do, but there were also much more beautiful spots. The sprawling villas of San Carlos and the glitzy inhabitants of San Joan reversed your perception. Not to mention how uplifting driving across the island, sitting beside Roger as he belted Springsteen’s entire back catalogue at the top of his lungs was. The views were so breathtaking that you had forgotten to eat the picnic Roger packed for you both. Above the roar of the engine, as the sun hung low across the bay, you could hear your stomach growl again.

“Christ, I’m starving,” you laughed, placing a hand on your abdomen in the hopes that the sound would die down.

“Do you want to pull over?” Roger asked.

“Yeah! Let’s park up here,” you said. Easing the car to a stop in yet another layby, you and Roger felt like you were alone together – at last.

He wasn’t prepared to risk distracting you when you were driving his favourite car. 

And you could feel the anticipation that gripped him after being subjected to that for hours on end. 

His eyes lingered on your mouth long enough to make your breathing hitch. And the one way to solve that problem was to edge closer to him, gently pressing your lips to his.

Like something off the silver screen, you collided in a slow, tender embrace, savouring every second. The soft back and forth of tongues running over lips, and low contented sighs, and fingers raking through each others’ hair. Until, at long last, you broke apart. More breathless than when that gentle exchange began. 

Coy smiles mirrored each other as the pair of you cast your eyes in opposite directions, feeling the weight of the day’s unbearable anticipation dashed from your shoulders.

Roger’s hand found yours resting on your thigh. He took it, sweeping his thumb over your knuckles in light circles. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” Roger whispered.

“Me too.”

The sunset in front of the car was stunning. Strips of indigo and violet reached into space, descending into blazing reds and brilliant oranges as the sun met the sea.

But it wasn’t about the view that captivated you, it was who you shared it with.

Roger’s desire to say something was palpable. Even as your gaze took in the wonder right in front of you, you could picture the way his lips attempted to form silent words. He couldn’t make a sound. Nerves took hold; a rarity for him.

“Hungry?” he stuttered.

Darting your eyes towards him with a questioning look, you shrugged.

“I made us sandwiches, and some strawberries and cream – and virgin margaritas,” he rambled.

Your stomach gave another protesting growl, cutting through the silence.

But it gave Roger permission to spring into action. He popped a latch in his footwell and left the car to prop up the bonnet. When he reemerged, he had a cool box in his arms.

The sounds from your starving gut grew as if your eyes were sending it taunting, tantalising previews of what they were seeing.

Roger dumped its contents, handing you your own cling-filmed sandwich.

Without a second thought, you unwrapped the soggy cheese and Branston Pickle monstrosity and crammed as much of it into your mouth as you could. Roger observed in awe, taking mousy bites from his sandwich. So lost in how incredible the sudden influx of sustenance tasted, you failed to notice Roger slipping out his phone until it was too late. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him lining up his shot, a small smirk on the edges of his lips.

“Smile,” he chirped.

Looking up from your sandwich like a disgruntled gremlin, you mustered a grimace when the obnoxious shutter sound went off. 

Roger admired the image on his phone screen. 

“What’s that for?” you asked.

“Wanted to capture the view,” he said in a cheerful drowse.

“Well, let me see it.”

It was as bad as you thought. Not only did you indeed look like you were having the worst time ever, but glowing orange saturated every detail. You looked like a demon about to devour Roger’s soul.

“Delete that,” you ordered, folding the remainder of your sandwich and shoving it into your mouth.

“Why?” Roger whined, glancing down at his screen. “I like it. I think you look lovely.”

“Delete it.”

Roger huffed. “Fine.”

“Right,” you began, balling up the clingfilm in your hands. “Let’s try that again – with both of us.”

Shimmying closer to him, you rested your head on his shoulder as he took another goofy photo. This time, he was the offending party; his precarious tongue poked from his lips like a surly member of a boyband.

“Can you pose like a normal person, Roger?” you giggled.

Roger turned, pressing his nose to yours. His breath felt hot on your lips. “Only if you give me another kiss.”

He didn’t need to ask you twice. A quick peck on the lips later and you posed again. 

Roger snapped a few and flicked through them for your judgment. 

You felt an enormous swell of contentment looking at the images. Like everything might work between you. 

It was all in the little details. The way you leaned into him. The way his nose nuzzled against your cheek. Those hopeful smiles. 

This had to work. 

You made a promise to yourself that it would.

With your picnic disposed of, Roger resumed driving duties for the short trip back to the villa. Darkness had fallen and the roads were still deserted. He could have let impatience get the better of him, but he chose to take it slow. 

You couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or making sure your dinner didn’t resurface. Maybe he enjoyed listening to you hum along to Fleetwood Mac, the cold night air sobering him up from the loved-up high of the day.

The revs died down and the lights clicked off, and you and Roger sat in the courtyard of the villa.

“I’ve got some proper margaritas in the fridge,” Roger said.

You turned to him, absorbing every detail of his picture-perfect profile. “I think I saw a hot tub on the balcony of the spare room.”

“Fire it up and I’ll be up in five.”

Without missing a beat, the pair of you burst into the house and moved in opposite directions. He dove for the kitchen, while you sprinted upstairs and into Roger’s spare bedroom. Throwing off your clothes as you marched through the room, you emerged on to the balcony, overlooking the sea; it glistened in sapphire moonlight. 

You began to fill the tub, watching as jets of water pumped their way into it. The steam rose in delicate silver wisps, kissing your flesh and staving off the chill in the air. It made you more aware that you were naked.

Hearing Roger’s chipper humming getting closer, your arms enveloped your body in a bid for modesty.

Through the billowing sheer curtain, you saw him enter the room, a jug of drink in either hand, then stop dead when he caught a glimpse of your dress and your underwear discarded on the floor. He proceeded with caution, “are you decent?”

Yesterday, he was fucking your brains out at 37,000 feet, and now he has the cheek to make sure you’re decent. He must like you, you thought. “Am I ever decent?” you half laughed.

Roger wore the biggest, beaming smile when he stepped on to the balcony. He looked comical, standing there in his jean shorts and his loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt with his mouth agape.

“Too much?” you asked. You tried to sound coy, as you turned from side to side. But there was a devilish undertone there. There always was. You were always on and you always wanted him. That much was true. But not right now. There was so much to talk about and ask him.

“Perfect,” Roger smiled.

You noticed the tub was full;  you stepped in and let the water lap away at your taut muscles. “This is heaven,” you sighed. Tilting your head back, your eyes closed.

You sensed the urgency with which he shrugged off his shirt and his shorts, and the way he slumped down beside you. Then his arm snaked around your waist. 

The cold had seeped into your bones, but the water, and Roger, were so warm. You moved into him, pressing yourself to his body and basking in the heat he radiated. God, he was intoxicating. Everything about him.

Soon, his fingers twirled strands of your hair around them, settling into a comforting rhythm. 

“Roger?”

“Yes, Kitten?”

Curiosity got the better of you. “How many women have you slept with?”

A chuckle reverberated through his chest, transmitting it to you. “Too many to count, why?”

“I’m curious. Got a rough estimate?” you pressed, peering up at him.

“Hmm,” he hummed, taking a swig from his jug of margarita. “Maybe somewhere in the… eighties.”

You removed yourself from him at once, looking him up and down with wide, horrified eyes. “Eighty?”

Roger nodded and chugged. And when he stopped, his eyes narrowed. “Why? What’s your number?”

Embarrassment burned. “Well, nowhere near that amount, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, but surely you’ve had a few.”

You clamped your lips together in a resigned, defeated smirk and shook your head. “Not even close.”

“Twenty?”

“Lower.”

“Fifteen?”

“Lower.”

“Fuck… eight!”

“Lower.”

“You’re not a virgin, are you? Because… I definitely put it in on the plane. You felt that. I’m not making that up. It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“No, but you’re close.”

“I was your first?” Roger asked, jabbing his finger to his chest. He looked taken aback.

You rolled your eyes, feeling like you were about to kick a puppy. “Second.”

Roger settled back against the seat and exhaled long and slow. “Wow,” he said. “You weren’t half bad, either!”

You shrugged. “I don’t have much experience. And it’s been bugging me a bit. But anyway – how the hell have you managed to sleep with over eighty people? You’re only 37!”

“I’m the drummer in a band and I’m the good looking one, there’s not much to tell!”

“But you’ve been married for years! You must have clocked up a fair amount when you were younger. Jesus Christ!”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Can we talk about your lack of experience please?”

This silenced you straight away. His posture softened, scooting closer to you. “Does it bother you?”

“I don’t know. I knew you’d slept with a lot of people... and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Oh, Kitten,” Roger sighed, running his fingers through your hair. “You could never.”

“I want to be able to impress you.”

Roger leaned in close, pressing his nose to yours. “Can I tell you something?” he asked with a smile.

“I guess.”

“I’m kind of out of practice myself.”

“Yeah but–”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since my bitch of an ex wife last year. And I think it’s about time I get back into the swing of things.”

The shame you felt almost melted away with those words and that admission. But an iceberg of doubt lingered in spite of the strange sense of comfort. “You could definitely teach me a thing or two.”

“And I could use you as a guinea pig for some weird new-fangled sexiness.”

His goofiness earned a giggle from you, but his smile fell again, taking the shape of something a more serious. “What did you enjoy when you did it?”

“Oh,” you began, feeling flustered again. “I don’t know.”

Roger tipped his head to the side, running his thumb over your cheek. “Did he do anything to make you feel good?”

You tried to remember a time that your ex boyfriend attempted to give you any semblance of pleasure. But you drew a blank. You shook your head. And then a lightbulb illuminated, only to be dimmed when you realised. “He almost got me off when he went down on me once,” you admitted. “But he wouldn’t listen to me when I told him what felt good. Said his neck hurt or something. I don’t remember.” Oh god, did you have go into that much detail with Roger? Your jug of margarita called out to you; you brought it to your lips, taking a series of swift swigs.

“You poor fucking thing.”

“Do you want to go to bed before we turn into prunes?” you asked, changing the subject.

Roger looked uneasy, but nodded. He stumbled to his feet first, and offered you a hand out.

Fifteen minutes later, you and Roger sat perched at the end of the bed that you woke up in that morning. You were both clad in matching silk robes and shrouded silence. Nerves raged away in your gut once more, wondering whether Roger would make his move tonight.

“What you thinking about, Kitten?” Roger asked, glancing over at you.

You met his gaze. “Just worrying about what comes next. When you go out on tour.”

Roger shrugged. “We're perfect for each other. I don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

[Part 5]

Fresh from another visit to the mile-high club aboard the private jet, you and Roger sat bundled in the back of another expensive car. A Jaguar, this time, much to Roger’s disgust. His hand rested delicately on the exposed skin on your thigh, rubbing pensive circles on it. He was quiet, staring off into space as the dull grey motorway zipped past in never-ending silver lines flecked with green.

You glanced at him. It was as if you didn’t exist and it dumped a freezing bucket of panic over you. “Are you alright?” you asked, your voice coming out small and pathetic as you sank into yourself.

Roger turned to face you, breathing a laboured sigh. He looked defeated.

“What’s up?” you pressed.

“Are you really interested in me?” he asked.

The noose of rejection curled around your throat, not a second before you choked out your next question. “What sort  of question is that?”

“I think I fucked up, telling you how many people I’ve…” He trailed off with a shrug and he couldn’t meet your eyes. 

“I promise you didn’t.”

“But you said it yourself, what comes next? How can I get you to trust me when I’m away on tour. This counts for nothing if we don’t.”

You rolled your eyes and squeezed his hand. His skin was papery and felt like ice under your touch. “We’ve got a while to go before that happens though, haven’t we? We can work on it.”

Roger met your gaze for a split second. In his mind, he scrambled for answers; ways that this could work. But his track record wasn’t so promising – if anything, it was damning. 

“And it’s more of a ‘me’ problem than a ‘you’ problem,” you added.

Roger shook his head. “It’s both of us.”

Your stomach churned at the prospect of him dropping you there and then, wondering why the hell he took you out to Ibiza, and what all the seemingly frank conversations and reassuring words were for. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes. An enormous weight of dread jumped on your shoulders; your body, much like your resolve to keep calm, buckled. “You know,” you squeaked, “if you weren’t that interested in me, why did you drag me out there?”

Roger’s eyes raged with concern as he shuffled over to you; his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. “I like you,” he affirmed. “I really fucking like you. And I want this.”

“Then why are we having this conversation? Why aren’t we making a go of it?”

“We are. I want to. I promise. I just feel like I messed up. Because something’s bothering you.”

“There’s a lot to unpack. But I hope we get past it,” you sniffed.

Roger darted his eyes over you, concern growing with each subtle movement. “Alright.”

“Are we alright, though?”

“Yeah. It’s just teething issues, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Interrupting the moment, the car stopped. You peered out of your window to see your block of flats. With a sigh, you turned your attention back to Roger and fell into his arms for a warm, departing hug.

He smelled like heaven. He always did. You inhaled his scent, nose buried in the wisps of hair on his chest. “I hope to God we’re ok because I like you.” Removing yourself, you looked up, catching a faint smile flickering at the corners of Roger’s mouth as he stared down at you through his lashes.

“I really like you,” he sighed.

The following morning, you blitzed back into the office on a more positive footing, doling out toothy smiles to everyone that looked your way. 

But that only lasted so long. You realised they weren’t smiling back. Rather, their smirks were laced with the malice of a gaggle of popular, teenage girls that had juicy gossip on you.

Your insides churned like a fairground ride until lunch. 

“That’s her,” they told their colleagues in the canteen. The whispers from behind hands and filthy looks followed you right to your seat. 

By the end of the day, the constant whispers had worn you down. The only thing you could be bothered doing when you got home was moping on the floor in a puddle of tears and wine. You weren’t sure whether the comedown from Ibiza made things worse than they actually were – after all, you had a knack for blowing things out of proportion. All you wanted was for someone to reassure you that the dread you felt wasn’t totally unfounded.

So you picked up your phone and scrolled through your contacts. Your finger lingered over Roger’s name. But you thought better of bothering him so soon after your outburst in the car. So you scrolled back up through the list until you found the letter ‘J’.

It was a long shot. Jade recently became a mother for the second time in two years. You were convinced she would be too exhausted to listen to whatever high-schooleqsue woes you were going through. But she was your best friend. If you couldn’t tell her. Who could you tell?

You pressed ‘call’ and waited, with tears streaming down your face.

Fifteen minutes later, Jade stood in the hallway outside your flat, clutching a bottle of wine and a copy of the Sun. She wore a sullen but understanding expression as you ushered her inside.

“That for when you get bored of listening to me?” you quipped, pointing to the paper.

She shook her head, handing it to you. “You might want to turn to page 15.”

You narrowed your eyes and flipped the pages. And then you recoiled in shock. 

Splashed across the page was a collection of grainy photographs, obviously taken from afar, against a blue-skied backdrop. But one thing was clear – the people in them were you and Roger. Cutting across the page was the headline: “Younger Model Gets Roger’s Motor Running.” And then the even more damning subheading: “Drummer Taylor trades in devoted wife of ten years for young office worker on dirty weekend in Ibiza.” Your eyes batted across the tightly packed lines of newsprint, taking in all the gory details about his past affairs and outrageous sex parties. Even a screenshot of his Tinder profile appeared in the tell-all feature. Suddenly everything fell into place and all your worries had come to pass. Another surge of frantic emotion overcame your drained exterior. Your entire body rocked with hysterical disappointment as Jade wrapped her arms around you.

“He said we could make it work,” you whimpered. 

“I know. But did you really expect things to go how you planned?” she reasoned, holding you out by your shoulders. “Did you really trust him, deep down in your gut? You knew he was divorced.”

“Actually,” you sniffed, holding the paper up, “it says his divorce is still going through.”

“Sounds acrimonious from what I’ve read. He must have done something wrong for it to be taking this long. And him whisking you off to Ibiza after knowing you for, what, a week? And you getting yourself into this state? It’s pathetic. He wasn’t the love of your life. He was never going to be.”

Something inside you snapped. “Well, I’m sorry for wanting what you and the girls have,” you seethed. “I’m sorry for wanting to be loved.”

Jade’s hands slid from your shoulders as she gave an exasperated sigh. “Here we go again.”

“What?”

“You don’t put yourself out there. That’s why you haven’t found a man yet.”

“That’s hard to do when none of you support me.”

“I’m sorry I can’t go out to clubs with you every other night. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got Brooklyn and Kaden to look after now. It’s about time you grew up.”

“I’m fucking trying.”

“I don’t know what you were thinking, going out there with someone you met on Tinder anyway.”

“Not everyone meets the love of their life in school.”

“But you won’t find yours on there.”

“So I’m supposed to resign myself to being alone. Godmother to all of your little rats? Always the bridesmaid, never the bride?”

So engrossed in winning the argument with your best friend, you hadn’t noticed the way that your body trembled uncontrollably as you choked out strangled sobs and dripped with murky, mascara stained tears.

Neither had Jade until silence tore through your squabble. Her shoulders sank around her frumpy, stout frame. To look at her, you wondered why on earth anyone could love her, but couldn’t love you. 

You supposed that’s what kids did to you. She didn’t always look so haggard, at least not when you were in school together. “I’m not asking you to always be on your own,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m just asking you to be careful about who you go off and meet on Tinder.”

You couldn’t see past the lecture she doled out to you. Less than an hour had passed but you wanted her to leave. “Right, now that I’ve got my life sorted out,” you began, straightening your back and regaining control, “I think it’s time you left.”

“I’ve only just got here, I thought we were going to have a girls’ night like old times. Watch Dirty Dancing and drink some wine. I’ve got loads of pics of the kids to show you! They’re getting big.”

But she missed the point. Completely. 

“I’m not up for it, Jade. Thanks for coming over.”

It’s funny how the tears stopped as soon as you realised how exhausting your life was. You were stony, staring her down and warning her to leave before another argument ensued. 

“Alright!” she caved, flapping her hands in front of her. “I’ll go. But if that pillock decides to bother you again, you call me.”

You made a mental note not to do that as you escorted her over the threshold. 

“Give my love to Kaden and Brooklyn,” you smarmed, slamming the door in her face. 

And then, you were alone again.

It wasn’t as if you could call Roger. Your pride curtailed the briefest thought of that. You shook your head and wandered into the kitchen; there was another bottle of prosecco chilling in the fridge. Who cares if you had already guzzled one? You could manage another. Desperate times, after all.

You popped the cork, neglecting to pour it into a glass and sauntered through to the living room. Your mind raced with questions for Roger.

Did he know about this? Was this staged? How the hell did The Sun know you worked in an office, for crying out loud? You didn’t dare to entertain the notion that someone inside your circle would feed information to the tabloids.

Dropping the needle on ‘Born in the USA,’ you remembered how Roger rifled through your collection of records a fortnight prior; when you knew right away that he might be the one for you. Not caring to think that there had been hundreds of ‘ones’ in his lifetime and that you were another sad notch on his bedpost. It made the wine fizz in your gut.

Soon enough, you were hunched over the toilet, regurgitating a slurry of prosecco into the plumbing. Hair stuck to your face, you pulled back and sat on the cold, tile floor. The sour scent of bile permeated your sardine tin of a bathroom, forcing itself into your nostrils. If only Roger could see you now.

You must have fallen asleep on the floor, face resting against the rim of the toilet bowl, because when you opened your eyes, the hall was dark. Your head pounded as your thoughts were immediately gobbled up by more questions for Roger. Heaving yourself upright, you wracked your brain for a way out of this. A way that meant you could still have him. And not be the butt of sick jokes around the office.

Fuck what time it was. 

You were calling him right reason or none. 

With alcohol still coursing through your system, you scrambled to your feet. ‘Where did I put my phone,’ you mumbled to yourself ducking in and out of your bedroom, and the kitchen, and then into the living room. You found it on the coffee table. Next to the offending exposé.

It rang and rang, and on the very final ring, Roger’s voice cracked over the line. 

“Hello, darling,” he said, sounding very much awake.

“Hi Roger,” you said, sinking your teeth into your knuckles.

“What’s up? It’s three in the morning. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I-I…” you stuttered. Telling him that you downed one and a half bottles of wine probably wasn’t going to be the best opener. So you lied. “I can’t sleep.”

“What’s keeping you up?”

“I need to see you.”

You heard him sigh. And the picture of his shoulders dropping, and that line forming between his eyebrows was so clear in your mind. Guilt twinged in every fibre of your being. “Is this about the ride home?”

“No. It’s… it’s… it’s all of it.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.”

The line went dead and you must have stood in the centre of your living room for half that time before you realised that he couldn’t see you in the state you were in; hair matted and remnants of last night’s liquid dinner still souring your breath. 

So you scurried to your bedroom. That was your first port of call, rifling through your pyjama drawer and pulling out a clean set. Then the linen cupboard. This was nothing a washcloth couldn’t fix. And then finally into the bathroom. You swiped off last night’s make up and spritzed dry shampoo through your hair, giving it a rudimentary brush. And then your teeth and then a once over with the washcloth. 

It was wonderful how such a minimal effort could make you feel that much better. Staring at your reflection all red-faced and bleary-eyed, that familiar feeling of your heart hammering against your ribs returned with a vengeance. 

‘How long ’til he gets here?’ you asked yourself, jabbing a finger on to your phone screen. 

‘3:17am,’ it read over the photo of you and him in his little red Porsche. 

Three minutes.

You had three minutes to make yourself feel incrementally better again.

So you took a series of deep, laboured breaths and attempted to unscramble your thoughts. Steeling yourself to ask him everything about his wife, and his affairs and the story, the buzzer ripped through your flat, earning a shocked squeak from you as you high-tailed it through the hall.

“Hello?” you asked, pressing the receiver to your ear.

“Hi, darling. It’s me.”

“Come up.”

You put the receiver down and folded your arms, pacing back and forth at the door. You knew it wouldn’t take him long to reach the fourth floor and you had to think fast. You almost broke a sweat thinking it through at breakneck speed. 

And then, Roger’s knuckles rapping against the door knocked you out of your daze. You opened the door. 

He looked gorgeous, considering how late it was; his bright eyes peering over his glasses, waiting for you to explain why you had summoned him in the dead of night. 

But all you could muster was a hug. A bone-crushing, rib-cracking hug that screamed, ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’

He knew something was wrong. His arms embraced you for what felt like an eternity, as your bodies swayed together.

You couldn’t for the life of you remember what was wrong.

“Can we go inside?” Roger whispered.

You gazed up at him and nodded. Taking his hand, you led him inside towards the living room.

“I’m sorry for calling you at this time.” Your voice was nothing more than a croak after throwing up so violently earlier.

“It’s ok. You sounded awful on the phone,” he said, getting a good look at your dishevelled appearance. “You look awful now. Has something happened?”

You scowled, searching the room for something to lead into what you wanted to ask him, your eyes shifting in manic bursts. “Yeah,” you sighed.

He always looked so worried when he stared at you like he knew your brain was a bomb waiting to explode.

Then you found what you were looking for. The Sun. Still on the coffee table and open on page 15. You grabbed it and held it up to Roger like damning criminal evidence. “Have you seen this?”

“That’s us?” His eyes flitted from the page to you. And back again.

“Did you know about this?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But they’ve been out to get me and the guys since we started out. Fred even had some of their guys hiding out in his bins a few months back.”

“Fuck Freddie. This is about you. They’ve got dirt on you. And they know what I do for a living. Look!”

“I know they’ve been after me since Dom and I separated.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I was never a good husband. But she was never a good wife either,” he said wistfully.

You rolled your eyes. “Is there something you want to tell me about your divorce? I mean I can read it all in there, but it’d be nice if you sat down and told me everything. Because you’ve been doing a bang-up job of avoiding talking about her since we met.”

“I think we should,” he agreed. “If I’ve dragged you into all of this then you deserve to know the truth. So that you know what you’re getting yourself into at least.”

This was too easy. Your brain tried to prepare you for the worst, sending you stumbling back on to the sofa with a thud.

“Where do I start?” Roger mused.

“Start with why you got divorced. Was it because you cheated?”

Roger shook his head. “No, actually. Well, yes. Partly.”

“Well, what is it – yes or no?” you pressed.

Roger wandered over to you and flung himself down. He spoke slowly. “Dom wasn’t what I’d call the easiest person to deal with. When we were together, she was manipulative, controlling, she had a spending problem and probably worst of all, she was a compulsive liar. You need to understand that most of the time I spent married to her, I was miserable. She was never like that before she got that ring on her finger,” he reminisced with a sharp, nervous laugh. “And I knew I couldn’t just divorce her there and then. She’d take me to the cleaners. So, I stuck around, stayed married, and started seeing other people behind her back.”

You raised your eyebrows. “And you thought she wouldn’t find out?”

“I’m not condoning what I did, but I was trapped in a marriage with a narcissist. And she’s still taking me to the cleaners. And that–” Roger continued, pointing at the newspaper in your hands, “is probably her doing. Jim’s been telling me that she’s dripping poison in the ears of anyone who’ll listen to her. But I didn’t think they’d come for you.”

“Well, they have.”

“And I’m sorry about that.”

“How far are they going to go?”

“If they can pester your friends and your family, they will. Unfortunately, that rag still sells and they’ve got money to burn.”

“And how do I deal with this?”

“You can hold your head up, ignore it, and stick around. Or we can go our separate ways. I don’t want that, but if you can’t hack it, then I understand.”

You sighed, searching the room for something to focus on other than Roger and his ultimatum. If you stared at him too long, you might have ended up in another flood of tears. “I really believed this was the start of something good for me,” you admitted. “My best mate came over with that earlier. And I’d had the worst fucking day at work. All the whispers and the funny looks.” You gave in, shooting him a pained glance. “And it’s all because of that. What they’ve written.”

Roger looked away, too, fumbling his hands in his lap, unsure of what to say.

“My friends are all married off with kids. And they just don’t get it. They’re over all this. They make it sound so fucking simple, lecturing me about how careful I should be. And maybe they were right? Maybe this was doomed from the start?”

Roger’s expression descended into palpable discomfort; he gnawed his lower lip between his teeth.

“You could at least say something,” you hissed, turning to him.

“I don’t know what to say. I wanted what you wanted, too.”

“Well, maybe your kind can’t have it,” you paused, allowed the hurt to boil over with a flourish of your hand. “Maybe you’re just not allowed to find happiness outside of your own little celebrity world.”

He looked like a wounded puppy. His mouth dropped open and his eyes sagged beneath his oversized circular frames. You noticed tears lapping at his lash line. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “Maybe that’s true.”

“And I’m just unloveable,” you huffed, throwing yourself back into the sofa. “And I’ll have to be ok with that.”

Roger leaned forward, nodding in resignation. “Guess we’re going to have to get used to that.”

“Guess you should leave.”

Roger rose to his feet and wandered towards the door. You watched as he walked down the hall. Just before his hand found the handle, he turned to you, tears still stinging his face. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

“Me too.”

“And you’re not unloveable.”

“You’d have still cheated.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Bye, Roger.”

He shook his head as he left, closing the door gently behind him.

The alarm on your phone rang obnoxiously at seven in the morning. For a moment, everything felt fine until you looked at the coffee table and the newspaper on top of it. You huffed, turning back to the ceiling. If Roger wasn’t around anymore, you reasoned, you might as well get back out there. Back to the clusterfuck that was Tinder.

It took half an hour to get ready, and over your morning coffee, you mindlessly swiped through hundreds of people. 

Mike, 28, seven miles away. A gym rat who overdosed on fake tan. And who clearly couldn’t grasp simple grammatical concepts. Mainly full stops. Left.

Shaun, 30, 12 miles away. He looked young. That’s because he was actually an 18-year-old, pretending to be a 30-year-old. Definitely left.

Andy, 30, five miles away. Cute. Sad blue eyes and a sad-looking labrador puppy to boot. You seriously considered it. But something about him just looked a little… soft. Like he was the kind of self-deprecating asshole that would drag you right into the depths of despair with him. Left.

Lewis, 29, 20 miles away. Tall, dark and handsome. Well dressed. Enough to raise your eyebrows by a few millimetres. He deserved it. Right.

It was such an innocuous action, swiping right and then going about your day as normal. You went to work and never gave him a second thought. He was forgettable, though, compared to Roger. 

At least the office was more bearable. The whispers died down. People became more upfront about their curiosity. One colleague, Julie, even stopped by your desk, looming for a good two minutes while you worked with your headphones in. Her presence made you jump when you noticed her out the corner of your eye. 

You whipped out your earbuds and waited for her to talk. You couldn’t remember the last time you spoke to her; you were sure she worked in Accounts.

“Hi,” she cooed, waggling her fingers. “I read the thing in The Sun yesterday and I definitely thought I recognised you. And here you are! Isn’t that wild?”

You gave a terse nod. “Yeah? And?”

“What’s he like? Roger Taylor? I’m a big Queen fan and it looks like you hit the jackpot there.”

You couldn’t even cry about it. As much as you wanted to. You were so distracted by the spinach between Julie’s teeth and the way her foundation creased around the laughter lines surrounding her bulging brown eyes that nothing else cycled through your thoughts. “He’s great,” you shrugged. “Really lovely.”

“Well,” Julie grinned, doing a weird sort of curtsey. “Tell him I love him!”

“Will do, Julie.”

That was one of many awkward conversations that ensued during your working day. The stilted questioning from your co-workers was more painful than losing Roger because of the ease by which it bored you. 

A repeat performance of the previous day, you went home and grabbed another bottle of wine on the way back. Cracking it open, again, you ditched a glass and drank straight from the bottle. But, right before you travelled too far down the path to inebriation, your phone vibrated and lit up your darkened kitchen. Slowly, you set the bottle down and tapped your finger against the screen. A notification from Tinder. 

‘It’s a match! Send Lewis a message now!’

You puffed out your cheeks and unlocked your phone. Your fingers danced over the keyboard, trying to find the right words to impress him. But he got there before you. ‘If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple!’

Where had you heard that line before?

[Part 6]

Roger sat across from a gorgeous, young, leggy blonde. She didn’t have much going for her in the intelligence department, but boy, was she stunning. Especially the way she leaned against her hand and looked over at him across the candlelit table with those glimmering green eyes. And with a few more glasses of wine in her, Roger knew she’d be even more fun.

“So what is it that you do again, Charlotte?” Roger asked, pouring more of the good stuff into her empty glass.

“Well,” she beamed, “I’d quite like to be a model. I’ve done some glamour shoots and stuff. So I’m definitely on my way to making it. But enough about me. I absolutely love Queen.”

“Really?” Roger said, the brightness in his eyes dying in an instant. “How nice.”

You, were also preparing yourself for a date of your own. It turns out Lewis was equally as handsome and far more charming than Roger – with less baggage to contend with. You poured yourself into a skintight red dress and were busy eyeing yourself in the mirror, searching for imperfections.

Your heart raced and raced and there wasn’t much you could do about it. Deep breaths only did so much. Happy thoughts only took your mind off things for so long. You still had time to kill, but here you were, ready to go. You always had to be early for these things. But what else could you do? 

You couldn’t sit in your flat and get drunk. That might ruin your chances. 

So you wandered over to the door where you had laid out a pair of gold heels and a matching gold clutch next to your coat. You slipped on your heels. Pulled on your coat. And picked up your bag. And you left.

The walk to the tube made your legs ache – a small price to pay to look this good, you thought. By luck, the carriage was empty, so you settled in for your journey into the city. Entertaining yourself on these journeys was always an issue. You loved to people watch, but being a woman on her own presented certain difficulties; if you looked at someone else the wrong way, you might well end up dead. You glanced around the carriage, taking in your fellow passengers. They all sat in silence with their eyes glued to their phones. Nothing untoward. You followed suit, pulling yours out of your pocket to look over your messages with Lewis.

You scrolled through them. There were well over two hundred. A lot, considering you only matched two days ago. Maybe this was too soon? A swell of fear and nerves and dread forced beads of cold clammy sweat down your brow. Soon enough your hands shook so much that it was impossible to read any more of those cheeky exchanges with your suited and booted Tinder match. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea?

Too late. Your stop rang clear as day over the tannoy, coaxing you to your feet and off the tube. The station bustled with revellers; great swarms of them generating a dull thrum that overwhelmed you as you weaved your way to the exit, trying to avoid bumping into them at all costs. You could feel the eyes on you. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe you looked terrible. 

The dread seemed to force your dress to cling even tighter to your body, uncomfortably so.

Maybe you actually looked good? The more positive side of your brain fought back feebly.

Don’t be ridiculous. You were nothing compared to… Roger’s ex wife.

Fuck.

There he was again, pressing his poisonous fingers into your brain. 

Your footsteps kicked out a clacking beat against the pavement, transporting you to where you needed to be. Not that you wanted to go there anymore. Roger sucked the fun out of what should have been an exciting night. 

The neon sign of La Rouvenaz buzzed out from three blocks ahead, projecting a tropical haze of pink and yellow out into the dusky, smoggy street. Your destination was already in sight. All you had to do was make it there without stumbling. That was simple enough to do. Just move a bit faster. 

The breath in your lungs disappeared; they felt like they could shrivel up at any moment, making you pant in time to the clicks of your heels. And all you hoped was that no one noticed you silently falling apart as you walked to your date.

Reaching the restaurant, you paused, grasping your hand around the golden door handle. You dipped your head and caught your breath, you shoulders bobbing up and down far quicker than they should. It felt like the outside world didn’t exist, and if it did, you viewed it from an amniotic bubble. Everything looked fuzzy like it was hidden behind a sheet of frosted glass and the sounds of the street around you thumped like a faraway rave. Was this what dying felt like?

And then, a sudden tap on your shoulder.

It sent an almighty scream bursting from you. It echoed down the street in a way you didn’t think possible. You turned around, ready and raring to give the offender a piece of your mind, but instead, you came face to face with your date. Tall and handsome and exactly like his picture. Perfect.

“I thought that was you,” he grinned, giving you a glimpse of two rows of straight, white teeth.

“Yeah, I—” you bumbled. “I had a long journey to get here.”

Lewis was gorgeous. In his expensive-looking plaid suit and his crisp white shirt, closed at the wrists with opulent cufflinks. He had a killer smile and a habit of sweeping his fingers through the hair at the top of his head, teasing it into soft, haphazard peaks. He listened intently as you talked about work and life in general, how long you had been single for and why you were on Tinder. The usual first-date fodder. All the while, those intense dark eyes of his bore through you. 

Still, you eased yourself into the experience, completely abandoning the nerves you harboured with every little sip of expensive red until your shoulders relaxed and the words kept tumbling from both of your mouths; like a frenetic game of verbal ping-pong.

But something was off. All evening there was something that wasn’t quite right about Lewis.

It had nothing to do with how he looked, or what he said. This was more about his manner.

And then it all became clear when you announced you were nipping to the bathroom. You, much like every other woman you knew better than to leave your drink sitting in front of a total stranger. So you drained the glass, still three-quarters full and snarled at the taste as you slapped it back down.

Lewis eyed you. His slender fingers massaged his temple as he raise a disapproving eyebrow.

“What?” you shrugged.

“I’m not into date rape,” he said flatly. Then he flashed you that beacon white grin again.

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. It felt like someone had taken a dull-edged knife and dragged it over your abdomen, leaving your insides to pool out on to your lap. Especially as the fear set in.

“I like watching them struggle,” Lewis added.

Without a word, you rose to your feet and marched straight for the bathroom. You hoped that this would all be a bad dream, that somehow the noise of hand dryers and the bustle of the restaurant outside would swallow you whole and allow you to fade into obscurity undetected. Sitting on the toilet seat, you ducked your head between your knees and tried to breathe. Apparently, that helped, but you weren’t one to buy into things daytime television therapists told the masses about how to deal with panic attacks. They were all hacks anyway.

You wondered what Jade would make of your current situation. The danger you put yourself in tonight, all the in name of desperation to be loved. And then your thoughts turned to Roger.

Where was he? What was he doing? How was Queen’s new album coming together? Were Brian and Deacy still squabbling and had Roger had to thump either of them yet?

You reached down towards your bag and opened it. Your phone snapped into your grasp, but you didn’t unlock it, or try to call anyone. You just propped it under your chin, wondering what your next move should be.

How long had you even been in there?

Would Lewis be getting suspicious?

You couldn’t go back out there. You needed to find a way out without him knowing.

You glanced around the cubicle. There was a window in the end stall. Your dress was awfully tight – it warped your brain into thinking you were huge and that gap, that little crack of light outside, looked awfully narrow.

Plan B.

Unlocking your phone, you immediately called the only person who probably wouldn’t judge you for wanting to be rescued. Half out of desperation, and half out of missing him.

“Roger?” you gasped before he had a chance to speak. “Roger, can you hear me?”

“Yeah. What’s happening?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

In the background, you heard the delicate chatter of a bar or a restaurant on his end. He was probably too busy to come to your rescue. Disappointment seared through you again. “It’s nothing. Sorry.” You hung up. The instant the call ended, your body shook from the rush of sadness you felt; it rocked every part of you, sending tears cascading down your cheeks and wounded whimpers from your lips. He wasn’t going to save you.

And then your phone began to vibrate underneath your chin. You looked down to find Roger’s name flashing on the screen. You spent so long wondering whether or not to pick up that it rang out before you could make your mind up. Your failure to answer that one call made the tears fall that much faster. And then came another quiet vibration: ‘Are you ok?’ the message read. And then another popped up. ‘If you need me, I’m here.’

The reminder of the enormous potential you wasted, was all you needed for you to loll your head against the divider, sink in on yourself and cry with even more ferocity. It was of no consequence to you anymore that your date had probably up and left by that point. He could sing for your share of the bill; God knows, he looked rich enough to fend for himself.

Then your phone began to vibrate again in long, loud bursts. It was Lewis this time.

You sent him straight to voicemail.

And then again, another series of vibrations, your phone blowing up with both objects of your desire vying for your attention. Ironic, really, that you didn’t want to be pestered by either of them. You just wanted to wallow. But Roger wasn’t giving up.

You knew he’d probably be frantic. You were certain of it. You could picture those baby blues of his and his furrowed brow, as he wracked his brain for something to make you feel just a little bit better. Fuck.

You caved, smacking your finger on to the screen to pick up the call. “Roger?” you sniffed.

“I’m worried sick about you. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.” He was so matter-of-fact when he spoke, but you found it reassuring. 

“I’m at La Rouvenaz. It’s a French place on—”

“I know where it is. I’ll be there in five.”

“I’m in the bathroom and I can’t leave,” you added before he had the chance to hang up on you.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m on a date and he’s fucking terrifying.”

“I’ll come into the ladies’ if I have to,” he reassured. “I’ll get you out of there. Just sit tight.”

Those were the longest five minutes of your life, sitting there in that stinking, cramped cubicle waiting to be rescued. 

And then a knock came at the door. A familiar voice cut into the crowded bathroom, stopping all the preening women at the mirrors in their tracks. “Darling? Are you in there? It’s Roger.”

Hearing his voice made you raise your head from between your knees. Rather than go out to get him, you stupidly sat there in your cubicle. “I’m here!”

“Are you coming out?” Roger asked curiously.

You sighed, defeatedly. “Yeah.” You got to your feet and opened the cubicle door. The gaggle of girls in front of you had stopped applying their lipstick and fluffing their hair to watch as you slipped from the bathroom. 

Roger looked stunning, waiting out in the dark red hallway. A blue velvet jacket, a bright white shirt. Both brought out his eyes, making them look even more angelic. But perhaps that was because you missed him so much.

“Hey,” you croaked.

No time for introductions, he touched your waist pulling you in, wearing that same anxious look you were used to seeing on him. “You’ve been crying.”

You nodded, unable to look at him.

“What’s happened, darling?” he coaxed, brushing your hair from your face. 

Then, a voice shattered the bubble Roger tried to build around you. “There you are!” It was Lewis; his handsome face crimsoned and fizzing with rage. “I’ve been waiting out here for over an hour, thinking the worst. But you’re here…” He turned to Roger, eyeing him up and down. “With him.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Roger snarled, tightening his grip on you.

“I’m her date.”

Roger dropped his hands to his sides and squared up to Lewis like a chihuahua sizing up a rottweiler. “Are you now?”

Lewis quirked an eyebrow and puffed out his chest. “We were having a great time.”

“Not likely,” Roger hissed, holding his hand out towards you. “Come on, darling, let’s get you home. And away from this arsehole.”

Despite your messed up hair and running mascara, you had never felt prouder than when Roger marched you out of that restaurant, leaving a humiliated Lewis to pick up the bill. People were going to talk – you knew that – but at least Roger cared enough to get you out of there.

Bundling into the passenger seat of Roger’s illegally parked Panamera, you felt safe for the first time that night. As if being near Roger again gave you all the comfort you needed. He got in beside you, and the pair of you sat in silence for a moment, staring straight ahead.

Then you turned to him, looking at the beautiful jacket he wore. And how his hair was styled just right. “Were you doing anything nice tonight?”

He exhaled and fidgeted with his fingers. “I was on a date, too.”

The sinking in your stomach was too much to bear. But you asked another question to hide your disappointment. “What was she like?”

He turned to you, wearing a sheepish smirk. “A royal fucking nightmare. So, thanks for saving me from that at least.”

It never ceased to amaze you how Roger could always u-turn your mood like that. Now, you grinned from ear to ear, clutching the seatbelt. “Thanks for saving me too.”

“Any time.”

“If you ask me, you’re well shot of that guy. I hope he doesn’t know where you live or anything. Gave me the creeps just looking at him.”

“He doesn’t. I’m sure.”

“I’m curious though,” Roger began, glancing at you. “What got you into this mess?”

“It’s stupid,” you shrugged.

“Just tell me.”

“He made a joke about spiking my drink,” you explained. “And it was just the kind of joke you’d have got away with. But when it comes from someone like him it’s just…”

“A bit unnerving,” Roger nodded.

“Yeah.”

You only really wanted him to get you out of your horrific date, but Roger insisted on accompanying you back to your flat. He meant well. All he wanted was to make sure you were alright. 

The pair of you stumbled through the dark hallway, his fingers trailing on the wall to find the light switch, while you made a beeline for your bedroom, itching shed your skintight dress.

“Let me make you a cuppa,” Roger said soothingly, as you reached the door to your bedroom.

You turned to face him; his figure bathed in the glow from the kitchen. A kind look washed over his features making your heart melt and your stomach flutter. “Alright.”

“You go and get into something comfier. That dress, as lovely as it is, can’t be fun to wear.” 

You laughed and sighed at the same time. “It’s not. It’s fucking awful.”

“Right, pyjamas on. I’ll pop the kettle on.”

Alone in your room, you allowed yourself to catch your breath. How could you be such a bad judge of character? Shaking your head, you turned towards your drawers and rummaged through them for a pair of pyjamas that covered you – you didn’t want to be half-naked around someone you weren’t dating anymore. Your flannel Christmas ones would have to do. If those were good enough to wear around your parents, they were good enough to wear around Roger. You struggled, clawing for the zipper at the back of your dress.

You were interrupted by a knock against the door frame.

Roger stood out in the hall, holding two cups of steaming hot tea, his cheeks puffed out in a quiet smile. He had shed his jacket and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow; he had even slipped on those round-framed glasses that you loved. They made him look softer, kinder. You got so lost in how handsome he was that you hadn’t realised that you had left the door open. Force of habit after being on your own for so long. You also hadn’t noticed how you stared at each other for what felt like an age. 

“Sorry,” Roger said, shaking his head.

“It’s ok,” you squeaked.

“Do you–” Roger began, awkwardly entering your bedroom and pointing at your dress. “Do you need a hand out of that?”

Looking utterly gormless, you nodded, turning away from him. “That’d be nice.”

You could feel his presence behind you. The heat from his body, the chill of his breath on your neck. “I won’t look,” he whispered, easing down the zip.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll wait in the living room. Do you want me to leave your tea here?” he asked, picking up your cup from your nightstand.

You turned back to him, holding your dress up around your chest. “Stay.”

Not needing to be told twice, Roger sank down on to your bed, putting your cup of tea back down. “I’ll just close my eyes while you’re doing your thing,” he said, leaning back and letting his eyes droop closed. He took a sip from his tea and continued. “Tell me when.”

Certain that Roger’s eyes were closed and that he wasn’t going to peek, you shimmied out of your dress, allowing it to slip to the floor. Off came your bra, too. You couldn’t be wearing that at home. And then you pulled on your pyjamas. When you were done, you stood at the foot of the bed with your hands on your hips, admiring Roger in all his sleepy glory.

“I’m done,” you announced.

He shook his head to wake himself up. “Took you long enough,” he smirked. 

“Fuck you!”

The pair of you exchanged an awkward laugh and then silence descended, your gazes trained on each other.

You sighed. “You haven’t told me about your date yet.”

“Come over here and I will,” he said, patting the space next to him.

You clamoured up and he passed you your tea. You took a sip, allowing the liquid to inject some much-needed warmth into your body while you eyed him expectantly. “Continue.”

“Oh right,” he laughed, wrapping his arm around you.

You leaned into him, enjoying how soft he felt underneath you. “What was she like?”

“Well,” he began, drawing circles over your shoulderblade with his thumb, “her name’s Charlotte and she’s going to be a model. She’s done a couple of glamour shoots, but she’s convinced she’s going to make it soon.”

You buried your face into Roger’s chest in an attempt to stifle a fit of hysterics.

“What’s so funny? She’s very serious about her work. She was one of this year’s FHM High Street Honeys.”

“I bet she was,” you grinned.

“Bet she’ll sell her story to the papers.”

You flashed your hand out in front of you both. “Old man ditches younger model for one with bigger bangers.”

Roger laughed, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your journalistic marvel. “It’s catchy.”

“Isn’t it just? I’m telling you, I should be working for the rumour mill. Just imagine the shit I could spread about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger said raising his eyebrows. “What would you write about me?” He inched his face closer to you until your noses touched. “What dirt do you have on me, Lois Lane?”

“Well, I know for a fact that Roger Taylor, 37, drummer of infamous dad rock band, Queen, loves to sing in the shower. His favourites are the hits of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry.”

“That seems entirely plausible, but definitely not true. Go on…”

“Inside sources tell me that Roger Taylor, 37, once stuck his penis inside the fuel port of his early 70’s Porsche 911. Just to see what it felt like.”

“I don’t own an early 70’s Porsche 911, but I did do that with my 2018 Porsche Panamera, which is so perfectly parked outside this very building if you’d like photographic evidence of the unconventional sex act.”

You looked up at him with a mischievous look. “I’ll take your word for it,” you murmured, throwing your head back down on his chest. You retrieved his hand and dragged it around your shoulders so you could absentmindedly play with his fingers. They were so delicate and slender; definitely one of his best features.

“What you thinking about?” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head.

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

“I don’t know if I did the right thing.”

“You were upset. I don’t blame you. And you never asked for any of this.”

You wrapped your arm around him tighter.

“And just so you know, I would never cheat on you. Because I know that’s in the back of your head after everything. I really, really fucking like you.”

“Why, though?”

“Because you’re normal. There’s none of this, ‘oh my god, so what’s it like being a rockstar?’ You’re just so chilled out about it and you don’t treat me differently. I’m just another person. I love that.”

“That’s because you are. Why should I treat you differently because of your job?”

“You shouldn’t. It’s nice to get recognised when I’m out and about, but when it comes to finding someone to spend the rest of my life with,” Roger grumbled shaking his head, “Nah.”

“Is that what you want?” you asked drowsily.

“Yup,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Me too.”

“Tinder thrown up any other handsome young perverts for you?”

“Nah. How about you?”

“Just that titted fucking idiot.”

“That’s a shame. You’re rich, gorgeous, have a fuck load of mansions all over the world. Prime sugar daddy material.”

“You’re right. I’m a catch. But so are you.”

“Not that anyone realises.”

“I do.”

“But that’s you. I bet you’d tell any old lie just to make me feel better.”

“That’s also true. But I’m not lying. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Those words made your stomach flutter. He was yours. All yours and no one else’s. And you wouldn’t have to go on any more dates. You’d just have to contend with worrying that you wouldn’t be good enough for him. You were brilliant at that.

“How about it?” Roger asked, shaking your shoulder.

“Hm?” you groaned.

“You and me?”

A smile spread across your lips. “You and me, Roggie.”

“We should probably seal it with a kiss. That’d be romantic, wouldn’t it?”

You scrambled to sit upright, and when you looked back at Roger, he was comically puckering up, eyes screwed shut. “God, that’s a sight to behold.”

“You love it.”

“You’re right,” you purred, leaning in close to him. “I do.”

“Prove it.”

A small giggle left your lips as you closed the gap between yourself and him, allowing him to cradle you in his arms as you tumbled on top of him. Your tongues danced together with increasing urgency as your hands roamed. Unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, you deepened the kiss, with warm, wet laps and your fingertips curled the fine hairs on Roger’s chest.

He sighed, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you down by your hair into him. You weren’t going anywhere, but it felt like this was right where you needed to be.

The arm around your waist travelled down towards your thigh, squeezing, while you rolled your hips against Roger’s. The need inside you steadily built, as did those familiar nerves. He looked so good. But you weren’t so confident making the first move. At least, not as confident as you were on the plane to Ibiza. You were missing one important ingredient tonight – champagne. 

But you didn’t want to be drunk for this. You couldn’t be. You wanted to remember it.

You yanked open the last of Roger’s buttons, exposing his soft abdomen to your touch; kneading the skin above the waistline on his jeans. You adored his body. He wasn’t ripped and toned like guys your age, but he wasn’t fat and bloated either. 

Roger’s efforts moved away from your lips, travelling down your neck, brushing against the collar of your pyjamas.

It earned a slight roll of your hips; and only now did you notice the bulge in Roger’s jeans, pressing against where the heat inside you radiated. You sighed, letting him undo your buttons. But you wanted more of him. You needed him in control.

Slipping off him and on to your back, you waited with bated breath for him to get on top of you. The tension rose in your gut when he got to his knees to throw his shirt into a heap next to your dress.

You wanted more; to see more. You sat up and reached out towards his belt, nimbly undoing the buckle.

“Someone’s lit a fire under your arse tonight, Kitten,” Roger chuckled, pouncing on you before you could undo his jeans.

You remembered how thick he was, how he stretched you. Allowing yourself to ache even more as Roger pinned you down with his weight. His movements were so compact, but so delicious at the same time, daintily unbuttoning your shirt, as he shuffled chaste delicate kisses over your chest. You gasped, eyeing him as he nipped and sucked at your nipples, and rolled them between his fingers.

Roger relished the way your body reacted to his efforts.

He used his teeth even more, dragging them along your stomach before he marked you up. You were certain this was his way of letting the world know who you belonged to, and it felt incredible. He had you arching your back in no time as he bruised your hips, dancing so dangerously close to the waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

Your hushed gasps were music to Roger’s ears. You could feel that devilish smirk of his against your skin. But he wasn’t moving fast enough for your liking.

Tangling your fingers through his hair wasn’t on Roger’s agenda; he gripped your wrists and held them by your sides, giving you a look that told you everything you needed to know about how tonight was going to go. He was doing all the work and he’d decide when to speed things up. Not you.

It earned a petty whine from you.

His laugh shot shockwaves through you. Breathless pleas escaped you as his fingers slowly, painstakingly dragged your pyjamas – and your underwear – over your hips. His lips trailed behind. With your clothes out of the way, somewhere south of your knees, Roger grinned. The real work was about to begin.

He settled between your thighs, gently and wordlessly parting them so he could lay claim to the sensitive skin on the inside. He let his tongue sweep across your inner thighs, stopping on occasion to give them a short sharp nip.

You sighed as he moved his way up between your legs, stopping just short of your aching slit. 

Roger hummed, deciding to hold off just a bit longer, transferring his attention to your other leg. He took the underside of your knee, easing your leg over his shoulder so he could bury his face against it. He took his time. Inching up and up.

And when he was just about to give you what you wanted, disappointment ripped through you once more. 

He gripped your hips and watched in wonder as you pleaded; writhing with need. His lips trickled over your abdomen like silk in an attempt to rile you up even more.

“I fucking love teasing you, Kitten,” he purred, brushing his thumb over your slit. “I think it’s done the trick, don’t you? You’re soaking, you dirty girl.”

Hammering home your uncontainable need, you tried to spread your legs in front of Roger’s face as wide as you could, struggling against his grasp. “I want you so much, Roger.”

“I know you do, Kitten,” he said, finally moving closer. “Just relax for me.”

Relax? How could you possibly relax? Not when sparkling fireworks of bliss exploded inside you with every precise movement of Roger’s tongue. He licked flat, broad stokes over you, parting your folds ever so slightly, savouring how you tasted. 

It had felt like an eternity since he did this, and it drove him wild. He couldn’t bear to tease you much longer, overcome with his own need. Then his efforts intensified. He lapped and sucked every little patch of skin he could find, tugging at you between his lips.

You could see his cheeks turning red as he peered up at you from beneath his glasses. The more you sighed and arched your back into him, the more feral he became. He just wanted to get you off now. He had abandoned his teasing in favour of something more, that’d surely get him the result he craved. 

Your body put up no resistance when he slipped a finger inside you, so he pushed another in, and curled them up against that one spot guaranteed to make you writhe and howl as he fucked you. And then came the kicker.

His tongue felt razor-sharp as it moved, darting swift, purposeful circles around your clit. It made you keen and claw at the sheets, balling them up in your sweaty little fists and when that wasn’t good enough for you, you hooked your legs over Roger’s arms and tugged at his mane. Urging him to keep going. You moved with his fingers as they pumped in and out in slick, wet motions.

“Oh god,” you mewled. “Keep going, just like that!”

Every noise you made encouraged Roger. He felt so emboldened, giggling away against your pussy. His tongue still drew those torturous circles around your clit, drawing out your pleasure, withholding a smidge of something extra.

When the tip of his tongue flicked over that swollen bundles of nerves, you swore you saw stars. Pleasure, golden and glorious, soared to every single part of you. You couldn’t control the way your body convulsed as Roger set about an even more unforgiving rhythm, dragging you slowly up that rollercoaster ascent. Every single moan you gave got louder and louder, as your grip on Roger’s hair tightened. His fingers and his tongue moved in tandem; in electric pulses topping up the tension little by little, until you overflowed. Hurled over the edge and plummeting back down to earth, the pleasure subsided as quickly as it hit you. And when your orgasm was over, and you got back to reality, Roger was still between your legs. 

His eyes were still closed, lost in sheer bliss, and he still lapped at you. Lazily this time. As if removing himself from you completely might have disappointed you. And he surely didn’t want that.

You groaned, stretching your limbs like a lazy cat. 

“Yeah?” Roger whispered, kissing your thighs and blinking at you with those big doe eyes of his. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Come up here and fuck me.”

Roger delivered one final kiss to your pussy with a cheeky grin, before he got back on to his knees. “What the lady wants,” he began, unfastening his jeans, “the lady gets.” He kept his eyes trained on yours as he took them off. You could see the prominent outline of his cock through his tight, white briefs; it strained against the material, a damp patch had formed, giving away just how arousing he found the whole situation. “You like what you see, Kitten?” he pouted, palming at his erection with a smirk. 

You nodded, licking your lips. “Come here.”

Roger grinned, inching his underwear down his hips. It felt like ages since you last saw him naked. You swore his cock was bigger this time around, as he plopped it against your stomach. The weight of it alone made your body tingle with renewed desire. 

You reached down and stroked your hand over him, jerking him off ever so gently.

Roger looked gorgeous, looming over you. He still had his glasses on as he stared down at your efforts, pinching his lip between his teeth. “Steady on,” he sighed. “You’ll get me off in no time.”

You whined, skirting your thumb over the pink, swollen tip. “Maybe I wanted to tease you.”

“With any luck, you’ll have a lifetime to tease me.”

“That’s also true,” you commented, drawing his cock over your slick, sensitive slit. It glided against you so easily, and your body simply ached to have him.

Instinctively, Roger moved into you. The sensation of him filling you forced contented sighs from you both as he collapsed on top of you, leaning his weight on you in exactly the way you loved. His rhythm gathered pace and no more words were said; your bodies rocking together in a tight embrace. 

The feeling of him taking you so gently, so lovingly was absolute bliss. Lewis felt like a million miles away; The Sun was but a mere footnote in your mind as you gave yourself to Roger. You craved more, to have more of him. More than he could possibly give. Mewling against his collarbone as his painstaking rhythm struck all the right notes with you. It didn’t stop you from trying, latching your legs high around his torso, or raking your fingers through his dishevelled mane to pull him in for a feverish kiss.

The gruff groan Roger sighed into your mouth reverberated all the way from your mouth to your cunt, making you clench around his cock and earning another, louder groan from him.

He was getting closer. You could tell by the way he grasped his fingertips into your thigh, snaking one hand underneath your hip to pull you in. Like he had exactly the same idea about needing more. Holding on was becoming unbearable for him.

You could feel his shoulders tense. And the way his breathing came in jagged peaks. But more than that, the soft to and fro of his hips had quickened. Swift, shallow stabs came thick and fast.

“Come on,” you urged, “come for me.”

That was met by Roger burying his face against the crook of your neck. His teeth grazed against your skin as his orgasm washed over him, sending ropes of cum into you.

And then his movements stilled.

Finally, Roger rolled on to his back. His torso dipped and rose in slow, measured movements as he came down. His eyes drooping closed.

“You’re still wearing your glasses,” you whispered, reaching over to pinch them off his face. 

He never opened his eyes. Instead, he acknowledged that by giving a small, satisfied hum.

“Thank you, Roger.”

Then his eyes opened. “For what?”

“For tonight.”

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, raking his fingers through the hair at the front of your head.

“I think so. How are you feeling?”

“Well, you’re no glamour model, but you’re alright,” he giggled, earning a smack to his side from you. 

“I think we’re going to need to talk about us after this.”

“What’s there to say?” Roger asked, turning on to his side and flashing you an exhausted smile. “We’re a good fit, why fight it?”

>>NEXT PARTS>>

[misssophiachase]

Here is it, part three! Unlike all my other stories each chapter is from dual points of view (divided into two parts) because I think this keeps the story moving faster and more fluidly. Let me know what you think of this format and the story so far : ) Read from the beginning at FF and AO3. 

Synopsis: She skipped bail and he’s tasked to track her down. As a seasoned bounty hunter, it’s a fairly routine job on paper for Klaus Mikaelson but then he meets Caroline Forbes and has no idea what to do with her.

Thrill of the Chase - Part 3 - I Shot the Sheriff

Cumberland County, TN (Interstate 40)

Caroline

"Interesting song choice," Caroline offered, unable to help herself as the scenery rushed past her window. She decided to blame it on her friend called guilt that decided to rear its ugly head at the worst possible time.

"Why? You don't like Bob Marley?"

"Who doesn't like Bob Marley?" She countered, trying to ignore just how good he smelled from this close proximity. A mixture of soap, mint and something else enticing she couldn't quite identify.

She was actually a little thrown by the fact this very song was on her fugitive track list and the guy who picked her up on the side of the road just happened to be playing it.

Oh, and for the record, she didn't get in his car that easily, it took at least nine minutes. Even if every fibre of her being was ready to hop into his passenger seat as soon as he strolled over in all his blonde curls and black henley goodness. Caroline decided to blame it on distraction, pure and simple.

She'd managed to fumble through what she thought was fairly standard small talk followed by outlining her current dilemma. Given he had neither a spare tire or cell service, Caroline either had to trust him to call for help after leaving her by the road still stranded or go with him to the nearest town.

She figured the second option, albeit one her parents wouldn't endorse, was more expedient. She had places to be after all.

Yes, he could have been a serial killer, but she certainly wasn't squeaky clean herself. Plus, she was starving and had run out of snacks and really needed to use the restroom. She wasn't the pee in the bushes type of girl so Caroline had no other choice. Well, that's what she kept telling herself.

"So, do you think he did it?" She asked, probably against her best judgment.

"Did what?"

"Commit the crime. It's one thing to shoot the sheriff, because you know maybe he deserved it, but to be blamed for the deputy too? That's rough."

What he did next, she wasn't expecting. He let out a rich and throaty chuckle and Caroline didn't think it could sound any better than that sexy, English accent. But it did. It was so mesmerising that Caroline found herself laughing along.

"So, you're ready to throw the book at the poor guy?"

"No, I was just amused by your analogy. Here I thought the song was about corruption and injustice in general but you seem to take it almost personally." She cursed inwardly thinking that playing it cool was not her best trait.

Who was she kidding? She was woeful. Mainly because Caroline was a nosey person by nature but by posing questions she was just asking for them to be returned. She also didn't think they'd be analysing lyrics about committing crimes. Caroline might as well have stamped guilty all over her forehead.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for the underdog."

"Nothing wrong with that, love."

"I have a name you realise?"

"Yes, but you didn't feel the need to share it when we first met even if I told you mine," he offered, his eyes not leaving the road. Even housed under those aviators, she didn't need to see them to know they were rolling.

"You could be a serial killer for all I know, Klaus," she said, emphasising his name. It was unexpected for sure but the more they talked, Caroline started to think it suited him. "Not that, you know, I'm, uh, giving you ideas or anything," she rambled, unable to stop the words tumbling from her mouth.

First, she was talking about shooting law enforcement and now mass murder. Yeah, Caroline was dealing just fine with her current situation.

"Thanks," he shot back. "You know, for not giving me any ideas. If I hadn't met you god knows how many people I could have killed today at least."

"You're hilarious," she drawled. "So, why did you stop? By the road I mean, not your killing spree."

"My conscience," he began. "It has this annoying way of niggling at me until I do the right thing. Plus, maybe if I do something good the universe will return the favour."

"I'm convinced that's an urban legend."

"Oh, like the killer in the backseat?" Caroline couldn't help herself and turned around to inspect it. "Gotcha."

Maybe the universe was more in tune than she first thought given it was playing tricks on her and not the good kind. Caroline had a mind to right all of her wrongs then and there but knew that would take a lot more energy and will than she currently possessed. She'd said as much to her friend Bonnie and that was only a couple of hours into her road trip.

"Your dad sent his favourite henchman to my apartment," she joked through the phone. "He could have at least sent one of the cute ones."

"I'm sorry, I'll be sure to tell him to send Tyler or Jesse next time," she drawled. "How is the lovely Alaric?"

"Urgh," she groaned. "I had to take a shower afterwards, he's that creepy."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position, Bon," she apologised. "When I made the decision to run I guess I didn't think about the ramifications. I should have realised that my parents know no bounds when it comes to harassing people, my friends included."

"Stop right there, Caroline Elizabeth Forbes," she chided. "I mean sure you didn't tell me you were actually going to run away in the first place but given the circumstances I can hardly blame you." Caroline winced knowing that it didn't sit well with one of her best friends.

"I didn't tell you because the less you knew the better," she reasoned, knowing she had good intentions at least. "I was always going to get in touch, I just needed to put some space between me and the city first."

"Well, now that he's gone can you please tell me why you've decided to go all Harrison Ford on me?"

"Clearly someone's been watching too many movies."

"And clearly someone is living one."

"I didn't kill my wife," she argued. "Not that Harrison Ford killed his wife either but you know what I mean."

"Please just tell me you have a plan and blasting NWA's choice thoughts about the police in your car doesn't count." Caroline muted her latest fugitive track, not realising just how loud it was playing.

"What makes you think I don't have a plan, Bonnie," she scoffed, feeling a little offended, even if she knew her friend was right. "I brought snacks and everything."

"Because that's the most important thing," she groaned. "I know things are strained with your parents and…"

"Don't say his name," she interrupted. "He, who shall not be named, doesn't deserve it."

"He called me."

"He what?" She squeaked, almost driving off the interstate as she said it. "I thought you would have had him blocked months ago."

"I kept his number so I knew if the idiot had the audacity to call, turns out he did," she explained. Caroline couldn't really argue given she'd done the same thing.

"When did he call?" Caroline asked curiously.

"About a half hour ago."

"Does he know that I…"

"No, I don't think so. I only answered to get him off your back and throw a few of those choice insults I'd stored up the past few months. But he said he's been trying to call you for a few days now, something you didn't feel the need to share obviously."

"Lucky me. Look, I didn't want to make you any madder than necessary given that hot temper," she continued before Bonnie could argue back. "I didn't answer and have no intention of listening to the string of pathetic voicemails he left either. Those are right up there with my parent's incessant pleas to get me to come home."

"He said he wants to talk."

"Well, too little too late," she muttered, thinking that nothing could salvage what was irreparably broken between them. Now, he was just messing with her and she didn't want to play. "But idiot aside, just know there's somewhere I need to be and I'll reevaluate things after that, I mean what's another week?"

Sure, she was living in a fantasy world but Caroline needed the time alone to put things into perspective. She figured her therapist Camille might even agree with that part.

"So, where is Kat these days?"

"Wow, I really suck at this 'on the run' thing."

"No, I just figured if anyone was going to play the Louise to your Thelma it would be her."

"Hey, I could be Louise!"

"You and I both know that's laughable," she joked. "And remember Thelma did get to do the nasty with Brad Pitt."

Instead of buoying her, the comment only made her feel pathetic that the last time she got laid was forever ago and the person was her poor excuse of an ex boyfriend.

"Well, what would a fugitive road trip be without bedding a cute cowboy in some skeezy motel," she quipped. There was only one guy she planned to see on this trip and things between them were purely platonic and uncomplicated. "Look, I should really get going, Bon, but I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Be safe," she murmured into the phone and Caroline felt like she was going to cry. It had only taken a few hours and she was already turning into a ball of emotional mush. Some hardened runaway she was.

"So, where are you going?" Caroline asked, determined to block out all other thoughts that might make her regret this little trip.

"Says the girl who won't tell me her name," he shot back, finally turning to face her, albeit briefly. Caroline shivered involuntarily, it seemed so much easier to converse when he wasn't looking straight at her, even in sunglasses. "Why? Where are you going?"

"Oh you know, here and there to visit some friends."

"How extremely specific," he joked. "I've been here and there and I have to say it's not too bad for the most part. You must have been a geography major, right?"

"You enjoy teasing me."

"What can I say? It's been a long drive so far, it's nice to have some company even if most of our conversation has centred around crime and punishment." Caroline felt her face warm, hoping that the blush creeping up her neck wasn't going to completely envelop her and give the game away.

She turned to look out her window, the scenery hadn't changed all that much since she climbed into his car but then she noticed a green sign ahead.

Welcome to Crab Orchard, Tennessee - Population 673

Looks like they'd arrived, to what and who Caroline wasn't quite sure.

Klaus

"Twizzler?" Klaus looked up distractedly to see his new, blonde friend waving a bunch of the red candy in his face.

"No, thanks," he offered. "I try not to eat anything…" he trailed off, subconsciously stroking his abdomen.

"Fun?" She inserted the word in his sentence, but didn't miss the way her eyes travelled to his abdomen and took in every stroke he made. Looks like Klaus wasn't the only one slightly distracted.

"Let's just say I practice this healthy regime and sugar is pretty much enemy number one."

"Like I said, no fun," she reiterated, her eyes finally meeting his and proceeding to bite onto one of the strands, her pink lips enclosing around it.

Klaus didn't think he'd ever seen something supposedly so innocent look anything but that. He watched in interest, unable to look away if he tried. When she started to moan happily from the taste, Klaus had to look away while trying to contain the thoughts he shouldn't be thinking in the first place.

She was a skip - his- after all. And apparently he was here to apprehend her, not entertain untoward thoughts. It seemed as if his professionalism had flown out the window the moment he clapped eyes on Caroline Forbes. He'd been inwardly arguing with himself for most of the drive. She was sitting in such close proximity to him completely unaware. The most unbelievable part? She was in his car without any need for coercion or handcuffs. Klaus couldn't remember the last time one of his felons had been this easy to capture.

Klaus figured it had something to do with her innocence and seemingly trusting nature. Something which intrigued him from the outset. If she was his friend or girlfriend he'd be absolutely affronted by her willingness to jump into a stranger's car but she wasn't. Although, if Klaus was being honest, he wasn't unwholly upset she was by his side at that moment.

At the same time, he couldn't help but think how good she smelled, a mixture of vanilla and roses - post rainstorm. She also had this adorable habit of scrunching up her nose when she spoke, a nose with a slight dusting of freckles he couldn't and didn't want to ignore.

Klaus shook his head, trying to concentrate. He really needed to apprehend her and he needed to do it now.

They were waiting for the mechanic in the sleepy, little town of Crab Orchard to tow her car back to the gas station and replace her busted tire. Klaus had offered just to purchase it and go back himself but the guy, who seemed way past retirement age, had insisted and refused to relinquish the tire otherwise. Klaus knew it was all a money making exercise but didn't argue. Given the size of the town they probably didn't get much business as it was.

So, here they were. Caroline moaning over twizzlers and him trying to ignore just how much it was affecting his resolve.

Crab Orchard was only a couple hours out of Nashville and it would have been so easy to keep driving and deliver her directly to Lucien's agent at the airport who would personally escort her back to New York. But something stopped him.

Yes, she was beautiful. He thought so when he saw her picture and then when he pulled up alongside her on the road but after talking to her, Klaus was incredibly intrigued. And he wanted to know everything about her.

He knew he had places to be, his siblings hadn't stopped reminding him as evidenced by numerous texts and his recent call while she was using the bathroom and buying a year's worth of snacks inside the tiny gas station.

"So, what do you think the Wicked Witch of the West wants?"

"Hello to you too, Kol."

"Don't tell me you're buying into Rebekah's drivel about the urgent need for this family reunion and down south of all places?"

"Of course, not," he shot back, thinking this was no doubt one of Rebekah's usual attempts to make herself the centre of the universe, not that she had to try all that hard. "You know I like to keep my family time to an absolute minimum."

"I'll pretend we're still talking about sister dear," he drawled sarcastically. "I don't know why I had to leave Chicago in such a hurry, we can't all have broomsticks to ferry us from place to place on a whim." Klaus had to fight the urge to laugh. Kol, albeit the epitome of an annoying, younger sibling, always had that keen ability to hit the nail right on its head.

"I suppose we'll find out in just under a week," he sighed, wondering how much longer Caroline would occupy his time before that. "Have you spoken to Elijah and Henrik?"

"You know how Elijah bores me, Niklaus," he replied knowingly. "Henrik is on his way from Florida with a girlfriend, Lizzie someone."

"Can't say I'm surprised that he's the only one with a girlfriend." Klaus and Kol liked to joke that Elijah should have been in the priesthood; his love life was that stagnant.

"And how about you?"

"How about me what?"

"How about your girlfriend, Hayley isn't it?"

"She's not my girlfriend, never was," he growled, probably a little too fiercely given his brother's response.

"Wow, message received," he laughed. "Although, does she know that? Because last time I visited she was being extremely girlfriend-like."

"I never asked her to be," he grumbled. "It was casual, nothing else, and for the record she knew that, well apparently." For some reason it was his bail skip that came to mind at that very moment and not his ex-girlfriend, or whatever she was. He didn't want to analyse why either.

"So, Lucien tells me he has you on assignment in Tennessee?" Klaus wanted to admonish his younger brother then and there for the job but for some reason he wasn't altogether upset anymore since meeting Caroline.

"Yeah, just have to apprehend this skip and send her back to the City," he murmured, thinking that wasn't what he wanted to do with her at all. "Piece of cake," he lied.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your bounty hunting," he teased. "Don't be too hard on the poor girl, whoever she is."

"I'll try," he muttered, disconnecting the call before she proceeded to tempt him with twizzlers.

"So, it looks like we don't have the right tire for this particular, vintage model," their great-grandfather of a mechanic explained.

"But, George, you said…"

"I said I'd look at it first before making any assessment," the geriatric swindler not dissimilar to one of his distant relatives interrupted. "I can have something first thing tomorrow."

Klaus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. It would be cheaper and much quicker for him to travel to Nashville and back with a new tire. But then Klaus realised that meant less time together and given he needed to gain her trust that wouldn't work.

"And where would we stay?" Caroline asked, impatiently tapping her heel on the ground. Clearly this was messing with her plans and Klaus wasn't altogether unhappy with the development, purely for bounty hunter purposes of course.

"My wife Eileen runs the cutest bed and breakfast just down the road, she'll give you a good deal." Given George's price gouging tactics, Klaus highly doubted that. "And my brother Jack runs the local bar, best beer and steak in three counties."

Of course he did but Klaus wasn't going to complain. As they made their way towards his car, Caroline nudged him playfully.

"Bed and Breakfast? How utterly quaint and romantic, just don't get any ideas, mister."

"I can't help that we are responsible for propping up the economy of this town and all of George's family."

"Well, I suppose with great power comes great responsibility," she joked. "And given we're stuck here together, the name is Caroline." 

Even though he knew that from her file, Klaus had to admit her telling him felt nice. Klaus had no idea what she was doing to him but he wasn't complaining. Besides, what harm would one extra night do?

Lots as Klaus was about to find out.

[haloud]

into the palm of your hand

@alexmanesairstream prompted: If you're still doing prompts, could you maybe do a malex fic where Michael (and maybe the rest or some of the gang too) learn about an ex boyfriend of Alex's from the military. Maybe he visits or comes up in some way.

here you go! it’s also on ao3, and there will be another chapter coming sometime later where jake actually makes an appearance! hope you enjoy ^-^

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

Liz is the first person to tell him.

“When can you make it to the lab?” He asks, popping a fresh fry into his mouth. They don’t have anything in the works at the moment, but that doesn’t mean Michael doesn’t have ideas to bounce off her.

“Really just Friday,” she replies. “Will you be busy that night?”

“Nah. No plans.”

“Okay! I’d just thought you might be meeting Alex’s friend this weekend.”

“Friend?”

“O-oh, uh, yeah. Um, an Air Force friend, I think? We were supposed to get lunch, but he had to take a phone call, and I overheard them talking. Maybe an ex-boyfriend, even? Alex seemed to know him really well, if you know what I mean. I mean, uh—” her eyes go almost comically wide. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Sorry, I figured you knew…?” Liz bites her lip on a sort of wince, and Michael has to take a deep breath to brace his way through the twin waves of awkwardness and paranoia.

It probably really is nothing, right? He’s not a secret from Alex’s friends, at least, not his existence, even if they don’t know anything about him. It’s hard to tell your friends you’re dating an alien, sure, but it isn’t exactly easy to tell them you’re dating a mechanic with a criminal record. Michael wouldn’t blame Alex for keeping that part under wraps too. It’s already more than he thought he’d ever have to wander through the background while Alex is FaceTiming like he’s just part of the scenery, just part of the backdrop to Alex’s home.

Even if this person is a former boyfriend it’s probably still…okay? The thought doesn’t make it any easier to breathe, but Michael would never insult Alex by thinking he could be disloyal. He wouldn’t cheat, not Alex, that isn’t where the fear and helplessness come from, it’s. It’s that Alex might have been hoping to let this visit slide by without getting Michael involved because, well.

What if he’s just ashamed? Embarrassed?

So Michael tries to keep it light. He says goodbye to a nervous-looking Liz, and on his way home he brings back coffee and croissants on a whim, even, and like—is he really that nervous? That he’s thinking he has to sweeten the pot in order to get Alex to talk to him? He doesn’t want to be angry, not when things have been so good lately. But why would Alex hide? About this? What did Liz mean by friend, even

His chest is tight and squeezing his heart by the time he gets home. The content smile on Alex’s face as he breathes in the coffee and says a quiet thank you doesn’t make the pressure go away, it only squeezes him tighter, to be so in love, and so—worried.

“What’s the occasion?” Alex teases, pulling a still-warm pastry out of the bag.

Michael shrugs. “Had to walk past the coffee shop and thought of you.” Is that a lie? It kind of feels like one. “Um. But I did run into Liz.”

Slowly, so slowly that Michael thinks he might throw up, Alex puts the coffee back down on the table, folds his hands in front of him, unfolds them, picks at the flaking crust of the croissant, folds his hands again. “What did she have to say?” He finally asks, his voice hard, closed off.

Michael grits his teeth down hard to push back any involuntary sound. “Just that you had a—friend? Visiting from out of town. She just told me, I mean, I wasn’t trying to go behind your back—”

Alex sighs and scrubs a hand harshly through his hair. “Relax, Michael. I’m not mad.”

“Right. Why would you be? It’s just something you clearly didn’t want me to know and now I do so we have to talk about it even though if you wanted to do that you would have just told me in the first place. Speaking of which, why didn’t you?” His voice cracks the air, anger and hurt and the other things he was hoping to keep inside all spilling out of him at once, and he has to try and shove them back down his throat as quick as he can. “Fuck. Not that I expect you to tell me every little thing going on in your life. It’s just—"

“He’s not a friend. He’s an ex.” Alex stares into the middle distance. His voice hasn’t softened at all. Michael feels a bit like a monster for bringing it up at all.

“Oh.”

Blindsided, Michael blinks and rocks up onto the balls of his feet, then back down. It’s probably a bit selfish or petty or some other unflattering thing, but he hasn’t honestly spent any time thinking about the fact that Alex must have exes. He’s brilliant and stubborn and magnetic and gorgeous—it’s not that Michael hasn’t thought that other people would want him—it’s not like he didn’t spend half of the past ten years lying awake wondering where he was and who he was with. It’s just that he hasn’t thought about it.

Alex is looking down at his folded hands, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Carefully, Michael walks broadly to the side and sits on the couch beside him, leaving plenty of space.

“He isn’t here because of me; he’s been temporarily assigned to a project at work. We trained together and have similar skillsets, and the project needed more manpower. That’s all.” Alex’s voice is clipped and businesslike and…odd. Michael wants to reach out to him, to touch his wrist or hold his hand, but he isn’t sure he’s allowed.

“Uh.” Michael swallows and thinks of the right thing to say. “Are you okay? Are you okay with him coming? Is he a problem? Is he going to make things difficult for you?”

Are you okay? It’s the only question that’s ever mattered at all, and Alex is the worst at answering it.

“Jake’s a professional.” Alex closes his eyes, and Michael wants to touch him even more now. It isn’t pain in his face, not exactly, but an unhappiness in the line of his mouth. “That’s not fair,” he corrects himself. “Jake’s a good man. It’s just been a while and there are a lot of variables. New environmental factors, and I don’t know how they’ll react.”

The sinking feeling in Michael’s stomach hits rock bottom. “New environmental factors? Do you mean…”

“You’re part of it. And I haven’t seen him since I got hurt. Not because of it,” he says, eyes darting up, because the anger that burst inside Michael at the suggestion this fucker abandoned Alex when he needed him must have burst onto his face as well. “He’s…nice. We talked online after. But I haven’t seen him, and it’s exhausting wondering how every old acquaintance is going to act.”

Michael puts his hand on the couch between them as an offering, and he breathes a sigh of relief when, after a brief moment, Alex takes it in his own. He even pulls him in a little bit, so he can cradle Michael’s hand in his lap, watching their hands together instead of looking Michael in the eye. Finally, something softens a little in his face as he considers Michael’s calloused fingers and roughed-up knuckles, and he chances a glance up to meet Michael’s eyes, and he lets his shoulders drop. Michael takes a deep breath too.

They can do this. Talking? They got this. The muscles are stretched, now. Conditioned. It’s not like before, dumped into the middle of a marathon and told to run.

“I think Liz was worried I was gonna go full caveman,” Michael says lightly. “Is that something you’re worried about too? Because I promise I can control myself, even if he looks like a young Harrison Ford, speaks twelve languages, and promises to whisk you away to Caribbean or something.”

Alex’s head snaps up at that, and his eyes narrow, and Michael grins, hoping he gets an earful for betraying his unspoken promise never to speak of Alex’s youthful crush on Han Solo—or at least that he’s succeeded in lightening the mood a little bit.

It’s not exactly thrilling that the people around him seem to think that Michael’s a jealous rage waiting to happen, though he can’t totally blame them for the assumption. He doesn’t relish the idea of dinner and drinks and small talk with some guy Alex got close to--physically, emotionally--while Michael was pining and hating himself and digging up the desert. Not his idea of a fun evening, sitting across from some successful and handsome golden boy who’s served with Alex, who understands implicitly a part of his life that Michael never will, a living and breathing reminder that he’s a dead end prospect with a rap sheet and a spaceship that will never fly and Alex has for some reason hitched himself to that wagon anyway. 

But he doesn’t want to be...that guy. And he won’t be. If it’s true what Noah says, if his home planet is a dead and unreachable ideal and Michael has to find a new life’s work, then his next most noble calling is being the man Alex deserves, and acting like a possessive loser is not the way he gets there.

Alex squeezes his hand reassuringly. “I don’t think the Caribbean is in our future, to be honest. I’d never be able to live down your tan lines. And technically Jake only speaks five languages, which is one less than me, so no worries there.”

“Does he look like Harrison Ford, though?”

“Not really, but he was Indy for Halloween one year. I think I even have a picture, if you—you wanted to see him, in case you recognize him around town…?”

The words seem forced through the dam of Alex’s teeth, but Michael takes them for the olive branch they are and nods. Alex gets up and makes his way to the shelf, where he retrieves a little box labeled with just the years of his first deployment, riffles through it, then comes up with the picture.

Sure enough, there’s Alex, grinning to show off his cheap vampire fangs, his arm slung around the shoulders of a lanky guy with a crew cut and a Party City-quality Indiana Jones costume. They look…happy. Though the picture still captures the dark circles under Alex’s eyes and his stiff, uncomfortable posture, his smile is big and genuine, and the tall guy is staring at him like he’s the sun itself.

Michael runs his thumb gently across the miniature of Alex’s smiling face. If you got in close enough to this Alex, you could still have seen the holes where his piercings used to be. Michael wonders if Jake ever asked him about it and if Alex told him the truth.

“Disqualified. He’s not wearing the hat,” Michael says.

Alex clears his throat and slips the picture out of Michael’s hands, busying himself with slotting it back into place. “Yeah,” he says, “I made him take it off.”

Michael’s breath catches. Needing to be close to him, Michael takes the box of pictures from him, puts it on the end table, and cradles his face in his hands, watching his face from as close as he can get, his heart pounding in his chest. Alex wraps his hands around Michael’s wrists and clings to him in return.

“Alex,” Michael murmurs, and Alex sighs, his breath washing over Michael’s face. He just holds him while he breathes for a little bit, knowing he needs it, knowing Alex.

“I should have told you,” he says eventually. His eyes are beautiful when they finally open, dark and barely shot with color in the warm indoor light.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide,” Michael says, and touches his lips to his cheek.

Alex drops his hands from Michael’s wrists to slide them up his back instead.

“I didn’t want to bring it up. There wasn’t reason, and…I thought it would be…I don’t know, cruel. Considering the circumstances that had me dating other people.”

Michael laughs a little bit and shakes his head. Alex. This will be a thing for their whole lives, Michael thinks, that Alex will be working on a need to know basis, while Michael is trying to gorge himself on every scrap of information he can stuff into all the slots in his brain labeled Alex. It’s exhilarating to be so mildly annoyed and to look at a whole future of it.

“I won’t say thinking about—all that time—doesn’t still hurt. But this guy, he was a part of your life when I couldn’t be. And I wanna know who you are, remember?”

Alex rubs idly up and down Michael’s back like he needs to be touching a new part of him every second, like just holding him wasn’t enough anymore.

“Tell me about him,” Michael urges softly. “If he’s gonna be around, I need to know if he was good to you.”

“Will you be disappointed in me if I say ‘it’s complicated?’”

Michael laughs and headbutts him gently. “Nah. You think I don’t know complicated? I spent the horniest years of my life working on a ranch with almost no supervision and then had to work with those same guys for like the next eight years.”

“I mean, he was. He was good. I mean, we’re still friends. But we’d both left people behind, and…I think we hurt each other. Trying to pretend. But he was good. And he’s important to me, even if we kind of fell out of contact.” Alex is quiet for a moment, his attention focused on his thumb stroking a freckle on Michael’s cheekbone. “He was my first. My first not-you.”

Michael takes a sharp breath, forcing his lungs to re-inflate after Alex’s words hit him in the chest like a cannonball. 

My first not-you. Does Michael even remember who that was for him? The first person he touched in his life after Alex? It’s such a blur of pain and hiding somewhere deep inside himself, those memories are…buried. God it’s good that Alex had something good. Even if it rings off his nerves that Michael wasn’t…good enough to be that thing, not then, not there. That he wasn’t given that chance.

I would have been good to you, Michael thinks, the little and pathetic part of him curled at the back of his brain. He knows how to live with that voice, though, so he ignores it. And there’s enough, more than enough space left over for him to be grateful that Alex had someone, someone to help him through. Alex said they’d both left people behind—so maybe this Jake guy even understood, a little bit.

“Do you want to meet him?” Alex says, holding Michael a little tighter, the words falling over themselves to get out.

“Yeah, if you want me to. But you don’t have to. Seriously. I know I kind of freaked out earlier, but if you don’t want two parts of your life colliding like that, I do understand.”

There. Now Alex has a nice, safe out—which is to say Michael does, an out that doesn’t involve having to sit and wash in being an embarrassment to the successful military ex. Just in case.

“He asked me to meet him this weekend. I was going to say no, but.” He firms up his shoulders, and Michael gives them an appreciative caress. “But no. I think I should do it. And I think I’d like you to be there.”

“Then I’ll be there.” And Michael kisses him to seal the promise, a smile on his lips.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

The Shocking Case of O.J. Simpson (Part 1)

Yep, we’re back with this insanity! In honor of me getting through the first week of winter semester, here is the next installment in KISS Unsolved! However, unlike last time, where we saw Paul, Gene, and Vinnie going on a hunt for the supernatural, here we see them covering a true crime case, because Buzzfeed Unsolved also covers unsolved true crime cases. It actually took me quite a while to decide which episode to adapt for this, but ultimately I decided on this one, partly because this case really fascinates me. I also decided that since there’s three co-hosts in this AU, Vinnie’s going to be the one covering the true crime cases (I thought it fitting, since he’s a bit of an unsolved mystery himself). Here is the original episode if you want to watch that before reading this story. 

A quick note about this one: I learned from last time to split up the episodes so I don’t go over the post length limit and Tumblr starts acting like a jerk. I know it’s awkward, but that’s how it’s gonna have to be. 

IMPORTANT NOTE: this case is very controversial. I realize that. It also contains some effed-up details that some people may not be comfortable with reading. If at any point you are feeling uncomfortable, please do not hesitate to stop reading. You are not a lesser person for it.

And now, without further ado, enjoy!

Tag list: @cosmicrealmofkissteria​  @ashestoashesvvi​  @kategwidt​

Commentary text:

Paul

Gene

Vinnie

Something said in unison

[screen cuts from title card to Vinnie, Gene, and Paul sitting behind a desk cluttered with papers, pens, a desk lamp, and other objects. Behind them are bulletin boards full of things from various unsolved cases and conspiracies. In order from left to right: Paul, Gene, Vinnie]

VINNIE: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we discuss the brutal murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman, or as you may know it: the case of O. J. Simpson, who was Nicole’s ex-husband, a Hall of Fame running back in the NFL, and the case’s top suspect.

PAUL: Fun fact: we’re all old enough to remember this case.

GENE: Yep. I remember there was a lot of Yiddish thrown around my house after the verdict.

VINNIE: A lot of people our age and older than us will remember quite a bit about this case. I remember watching it on television.

PAUL:  Yeah, I actually never knew O. J. was a football player. I always knew him as the guy who murdered someone.

GENE: Me too.

VINNIE: Yeah. There’s a lot of unpack here, so… let’s get into it. [opens folder]

[screen cuts away from the three to a black screen. Pictures and text appear on screen as Vinnie narrates]

VINNIE [voiceover]: In the early morning of June 13th, 1994, at 12:10 AM, the bodies of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald L. Goldman were found outside Nicole’s Brentwood townhouse, stabbed to death.

[screen cuts to the three of them in a car driving through a neighborhood, Brentwood. Vinnie is driving, Paul is in the passenger seat, aiming a camera at Vinnie, and Gene is in the backseat]

VINNIE: So right now, we are on our way to Nicole Brown Simpson’s former residence. [time skip: the car parks on the side of the street]

PAUL: [looks at the house across the street] Is that it, right over there?

VINNIE: Yep. That’s the place.

GENE: I feel… I don’t really feel all that right going into this place.

VINNIE: Oh, we’re not going onto the property.

GENE: We’re not? I thought we were going to go see where the bodies were found.

VINNIE: Oh hell no, we’re not doing that.

PAUL: That is kind of disrespectful.

GENE: Okay, good.

[all three of them sit still for a couple beats. Then Vinnie sighs and unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door to get out. Gene and Paul follow suit. Screen cuts back to the slideshow]

VINNIE [voiceover]: At the time, Nicole and O. J. Simpson were divorced and living in separate residences, both in Brentwood. The bodies were discovered by two neighbors who were literally led to the crime scene by Nicole’s dog. Multiple neighbors would say the dog was incessantly barking at the time of the murder. [audio of a barking dog plays with the narration]

[cuts back to the sidewalk in front of Nicole Brown Simpson’s house. Paul has the camera on Vinnie, who is taking steps while Gene watches off to the side]

VINNIE: So the dog led the neighbors down the street, to the entrance, and they saw the blood coming down from the entrance to the sidewalk.

[cuts to the three once again sitting in the car; it is now darker out]

PAUL: What occurs to me, though, is how close together all these apartments are. And how…

VINNIE: How no one heard…

PAUL: Yeah. From the way I always heard it, I assumed the houses were really spread out and the street was bigger. But no, they’re all pretty stacked on top of each other. I think… I feel like someone would have had to have heard something.

VINNIE: … That’s a good point, I never thought about that. [runs his hand over his face] Jesus…

GENE: This case just got so much heavier.

[screen cuts back to the slideshow]

VINNIE [voiceover]: Let’s go over the established, highly-detailed timeline. On June 12th, 1994 at 6:30 PM, Nicole, her children, and others arrive at a restaurant called Mezzaluna. At 9:15 PM, Nicole’s sister calls Mezzaluna and says her mother left her glasses there. Ronald Goldman goes to pick up the glasses. At 9:00 – 9:30 PM, Brian “Kato” Kaelin and O. J. Simpson go to McDonald’s for dinner.

Can’t imagine McDonald’s was excited to hear that…

Yeah…

…as part of the testimony.

Was that part of the testimony?

I mean it had to have been, since it’s on the official timeline.

… Well.

*snickering*

I mean… it got a lot of coverage at the time so… free advertising, I guess?

Yeah, I suppose.

VINNIE [voiceover]: At 9:45 PM, Kato and O. J. return home from McDonald’s. Kato was staying in O. J.’s guest house at the time. At 9:48 to 9:50 PM, Goldman leaves Mezzaluna with an envelope containing Nicole’s mother’s glasses. At 10:15 PM, Nicole Simpson’s neighbor hears a dog bark and cry while he is watching TV. The prosecution would later cite these barks as Nicole’s dog, who was crying out over the murder of its owner, Nicole.

They went by dog bark?

Well all dog barks are a bit different. The neighbor could’ve recognized it as Nicole’s dog from the bark.

Yeah, that’s probably what happened.

Honestly, I feel like the dog is the real hero of this story.

*laughs* I don’t think there are many heroes in this story, Gene.

No, let’s say that. We need at least one good thing to come out of this story.

Fine, okay. This dog’s a regular Lassie.

VINNIE [voiceover]: At 10:25 PM, a limo driver named Allan Park arrives at O. J.’s home, O. J. having been scheduled for a red eye flight from L. A. to Chicago at 11:45 PM. At 10:40 PM, O. J.’s guest, Kato, hears three loud thumps on the outside wall of the guest house he is staying in. From 10:40 to 10:55 PM, Park buzzes O. J.’s intercom several times, but there is no answer. Just before 11:00 PM, Park sees a shadowy figure—six feet tall, two hundred pounds—walking across the driveway towards the house. At 11:00 PM, Park tries buzzing the intercom again; this time, O. J. answers. O. J. tells Park that he had overslept and had just gotten out of the shower.

Suspicious.

Yeah, quite suspicious.

This is a very detailed description of a “shadowy figure.”

*laughs* Yeah, “He was six feet, weighed two hundred pounds—and was enshrouded in shadow.”

*laughter*

VINNIE [voiceover]: At 11:45 PM, O. J. departs on an American Airlines flight to Chicago. And taking us back to the start, at 12:10 AM, the bodies of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald L. Goldman are discovered outside her townhouse stabbed to death. Evidence found at the crime scene includes a bloodstained glove left behind by the killer, a knitted hat, and a bloody footprint. At 5:00 PM, detectives arrive at O. J.’s house and discover some key pieces of evidence… but we’ll get to that later. Meanwhile, O. J.’s flight lands in Chicago. According to lead prosecutor Marcia Clark, Detective Ron Philips called O. J. to inform him his ex-wife was dead. O. J.’s first response: “Who killed her?”

Not good.

Yes, very not good.

Not, “How did she die?”

Nope.

“What happened?”

Nope.

“Who killed her”… that’s what he said.

*quiet laughter*

That’s not the go-to question there.

*laughter* Heheh, no, it is not.

Not the best decision ya could’ve made, O. J.

VINNIE [voiceover]: O. J. was questioned for three hours by the LAPD, but released. On June 17th, 1994, O. J. was charged with the murder of Nicole Simpson and Ronald Goldman. But he famously did not surrender to the police, and was declared a fugitive. The ensuing low-speed police chase of O. J. on the freeways of southern California in his white Ford Bronco is a lasting memory for anybody familiar with the case.

Do either of you remember this?

Oh yeah, I definitely remember this.

My memories of this are actually a little vague. I do remember people talking about this after it happened, though.

I think my sister actually yelled at the screen for O. J. to go faster.

*laughter*

VINNIE [voiceover]: O. J. was in the passenger seat, while the car was driven by his friend, Al Cowlings. Cowlings explained he did not stop because O. J. had a gun to his own head in the car, and because O. J. was suicidal. A suicide note written by O. J. was in fact found, but we’ll get to that in a bit.

[screen cuts to the three back in the car. It is daytime, and they are now on the freeway]

VINNIE: So right now, we are going about the speed O. J. was going, and we’re in rush-hour traffic.

PAUL: I gotta say, I’m actually a little bored.

GENE: This doesn’t exactly feel like Fast and Furious.

VINNIE: Well, the stuff in Fast and Furious probably doesn’t happen in real life, Genie.

VINNIE [voiceover]: During the chase, they recorded a phone call between O. J. and homicide detective Tom Lange. Here’s some audio from that:

LANGE: Nobody’s going to get hurt.

SIMPSON: I’m the only one that deserves…

LANGE: No, you don’t deserve that.

SIMPSON: I’m gonna get hurt…

LANGE: You do not deserve to get hurt.

SIMPSON: [groans]

LANGE: You do not deserve to get hurt. Don’t do this.

SIMPSON: All I did was love Nicole. All I did was love her.

VINNIE [voiceover]: The chase would end at O. J.’s home in Brentwood. Inside the car, they found, in what I imagine was unintentional humor, makeup adhesive, a fake mustache and goatee, O. J.’s passport, and a gun.

Pfft, hahahahah—!

*laughing* What the hell?

*laughing* I know, that’s—just try to imagine one of the most famous people at this time, trying to sneak through airport security with a glued-on mustache…

That’s hilarious!

… and thinking it’s gonna work.

This guy didn’t even change his passport, that’s… was he even trying at all?

VINNIE [voiceover]: O. J. surrendered to the police at 8:51 PM. Now, let’s go over the suicide note. Apart from thanking those who meant a lot to him in his life, O. J. professed his innocence. Quote, “First, everyone understand. I have nothing to do with Nicole’s murder. I loved her; always have and always will. If we had a problem, it’s because I loved her so much.”

Well, that’s… kinda sweet, I guess…

Seems kinda over the top to me.

I had the same impression. Overall, though, when you put it in with everything else… I don’t know.

What’s our consensus here, do we all agree that he did it?

I have actually been told that we should refrain from explicitly saying who we think did it.

Oh, really?

Why?

Well, because this is a very controversial case. We all remember how controversial it was. We don’t wanna step on any toes.

... I guess that’s fair.

Yeah, that’s fair.

To be continued in Part 2!