What other photos does Aki take besides crime scene photos?📷

His favorite is obviously crime-related photography - it matches so well with his daredevil personality. But obviously, the guy’s got to make a living! He is known as a freelancer - so his job is based on short-term contracts and varies depending on the contract.

Canonly Akihito has been seening doing wedding photography - at least at Takato’s wedding. Which i thought i might add because it seems unlike him do something like that 🤭🤭

I think he also must do political-related photography - the first episode was about him catching a diet member, a politician, doing something shady. There is also an early episode, where Akihito was supposed to interview a politician. But a senior photographer at his magazine takes over his assignment and Aki’s left being the bag boy. They go to that politician's office, or his private house or something, and they get kinda brushed aside and they have to wait in the waiting room for hours. Meanwhile, Asami shows up at the same offices, and he’s immediately shown in to see the politician. Akihito was so mad during that episode 🤭

And I am just remembering that during that crossover episode with Sensei’s other BL when aki goes to Kyoto with those high schoolers. Those kids' fathers were politicians, and Aki knew all about them. I think it's implied he knows about them because of his job. Later too, those high schools break into private rooms in a hotel - thinking their dads are there but it's some other politician. Akihito comes and smooths things over, by more or less threatening that he’s a journalist - and isn't it interesting that this politician is meeting with a construction company (aka they were doing something shady) Aki was quite smart in that episode- he saw right away that he was acutally witnessing corruption.

He’s been shown doing various celebrity-related photography. The stalker case he worked on, and meeting and working with Ai who is a Japanese idol. There was another small scene of him taking a photograph of a celebrity who was on trial for something, and Akihito got a snap of him looking smug after he left the trial. In the episode where Akihito gets those chocolate aphrodisiacs, he says that he was going to that drug dealer because a celebrity was seen going there - so that case while ended up being criminal-related was celebrity news.

He also seems to do studio photography as well, aka working in photography with models. Probably for certain ad campaigns or something. That fireworks episode - he was late to see the fireworks with asami because a model he was working with was refusing to the shot and was being difficult. The episode of Aki’s birthday where he gets a new suit - all starts with him doing some kind of photo shot with Ai and her friends, who invite him to something where he needs a suit.

Overall, for his work, he seems to be mostly interested in any kind of news photography. I have always HC Akihito as the type of photographer that is less interested in the artistic aspect of photography —- and more about how his photographs tell the truth, or have political statements, or spread information. Though he does seem to sometimes take photographs for the art's sake of it - like when he sees a beautiful scene in front of him, I feel he would get the urge to take a picture of it. Like when they were in Bali and he was seen on the beach looking as if he was framing a photograph, or of course in the most recent episode when he and Asami are acting like a tourist in Italy and he’s taking pictures of everything.

Hey guys 💖 Here's Zlatans latest FULL interview with France Football. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did. This was such tasty appetiser before tomorrows main course meal match and start of his new season.

P.S. Please excuse english, it was google translated

Have you ever found your stolen Fido Dido ?

"Not. They stole it and I never saw it again. But maybe it was cosmic justice for all the bikes I stole. It's a pity, it was my favorite bike ... "

If you could find the one who stole it from you now, what would you do to it?

"I would buy him a new one and take mine back."

You devoted a lot of space to that story in your autobiography. Was it a turning point in your life to move from the role of victim to the other side?

"No. I was young and stupid. I did all sorts of things to survive. I needed a bike to ride here and there. When they stole my bike, I started stealing them from others. I did it solely for the reason that I could not afford to buy others. I know it's not a positive story ... But things like that are done to move forward in life, right? ”

What would you steal from football today if you could and give it to little Zlatan ?

"Nothing. I would just tell him to be more patient. And that his hard work will return one day. I worked hard, but I didn’t have the patience. I wanted everything now. "

How did you learn to be patient?

"It's very difficult when you're young. But when you have the experience I have now, learn what patience is. But when you are young and wild, full of various ideas and energy, when you want to discover the whole world and learn everything at once, then it is not easy to be patient. You need to be surrounded by people who have experience, who will calm you down and who will tell you the truth. "

What will be left behind Zlatan Ibrahimovic when he finishes his career?

"I do not know. Something will remain ... If something remains, it means I did a good job. Maybe some of my ideas and thoughts will remain from everything. That you should believe in yourself, that you should have your own personality and that you should not refrain from saying something you think. "

Did you make mistakes?

"I make mistakes every day. I am making a mistake now that I am talking about your newspaper. "

Maybe we're making a mistake talking to you too ...

"I'm kidding ... Mistakes are normal, we make them every day and they help us to be better people. "No one is perfect."

What are you most proud of?

"Everything I did. I come from a place where everyone condemned me and told me that something was impossible. I was constantly told that I was not good enough. And I'm still here. I stand still in my football boots. At 39 years old. And I'm proud of that. "

Could you have done more than this?

"It can always be more and better. It's a question of mentality. "

Even you?

"Every person can do better and more. In my head I always aim for the maximum and I am always convinced that I have given the maximum. Could I have done better, that can be discussed ... "    

Do you ever get tired of the attention of the public, journalists, fans, everyone's opinions?

"It's all part of my job. I didn't choose it that way. When you are as good as me, that is inevitable and must be accepted. "

How do you comment on the claims of some that you are a great player in small games?

"Everyone has the right to an opinion and to express it."

Did that bother you when you were younger?

"Not. I used it as a propellant to be as good as possible. I was motivated by such stories. I went forward and looked to never be satisfied. I received all these criticisms in such a way as to ignite the fire in my heart and to extract additional energy from them. "

What do you regret?

"It simply came to our notice then. Do you really think that I would be a better football player if I won all the trophies? "

Not. Even the Brazilian Ronaldo did not win everything ...

"Exactly. Of course, it would be wonderful if I won everything. But that doesn't make me a weaker or better footballer. I like guys who say to me: 'Zlatan, you didn't win the World Cup, you're not a good player'. Okay ... But it's easier to win the World Cup when you're French than when you're Swedish. Let's go back to the Champions League. The longer you wait for it, the sweeter it is. I still have a goal to win it. I won everything but her in club football. But I won't quack even if I don't win it because I've already done a lot more than most footballers. I'm a happy man. "

You didn't even win the Golden Ball. Does Zlatan miss the Golden Ball or does the Golden Ball miss Zlatan ?

"I think they miss me there on that list of conquerors."

You finished in fourth place in terms of the number of votes in 2013, and that is your best ranking. Is it weird that you didn't win it?

"You see, every player wants a trophy that tells him he is the best in the world. Deep down, I think I'm the best in the world. It would be prestigious if I won it, but it is the voters who decide. You journalists are voting and you know why I didn't win it! Ha-ha-ha ... ”

Well, it's not just us from France, there are also journalists from all over the world ...

"A-ha-ha!"

Messi and Ronaldo have won it several times. What do they have that you don't have?

"If you talk about essential qualities, I have nothing less than them. If you look at the trophies, I didn't win the Champions League like them ... But I really don't know how you measure and calculate that. Nor am I obsessed with it. You see, when you do good collective things, then individual rewards are a consequence of that. An individual cannot be good if the collective is weak. "

Where do you see yourself in the history of football? If there was a table, where would you put yourself?

"What do you want me to answer you?"

Who would be next to you on that table?

"It is not relevant to compare players from different eras. Everyone played in their generation, with different teammates. These are difficult things to compare. Everyone has their own story, and mine is full of problems. "

Does your personality set you apart in the world of football?

"I am just what I am. People try hard to be ideal to others. I always say ‘Be what you are and that is perfection’. I will not change because of success. For no reason will I change. Whatever happens, I will be what I am. I just want to play my game and have my team win. The rest will come of its own accord. I didn't choose to be famous. It's just a consequence of the work I do. "

We thought about jumping out of the pattern and what you're doing on the field.

"But it's all connected to the field. People talk a lot off the field today. But if you're not good on the field, and you talk a lot, then you're just a clown. "

Are there many clowns in the world of football?

"As much as you want ... A bunch!"

You consider yourself ideal in your head because you are what you are. How do you know this is right?

"I don't want to be perfect to someone else by force and talk about how I don't make mistakes. Maybe all this is a mistake. But I will remain what I am. I don't want you to send me questions before the interview, I don't want to know what you're going to ask me, I don't care. Readers will judge us whether the interview is good or not. "

When you left Paris Saint-Germain, you said, 'I came like a lion, I leave like a king . ' Do you really care so much about being remembered?

"I wrote my story in Paris and left my motto. Now let someone else write it and leave your motto. I don’t try to make people remember me by what I say. He will remember me on the field and what I did there. "

Are you arrogant or pretentious?

"I'm just a man full of confidence."

Does it matter to you that they recognize you as special?

"I am not special. I am a normal guy and a professional. I don’t want to share my whole life with the rest of the world. I'm not an instagram clown who wakes up in the morning and thinks what is the most beautiful photo for him to post. I share my professional challenges with the rest of the world. Privacy must exist. I don't want to share it either. But I want to share some parts of my professional life because it's part of my job. "

Do you deliberately block the fragility and insecurity from your childhood with your behavior, when the fierce guys in your Rosengard called you "lukewarm"?

"No. And I have a part of the personality that is fragile. I have emotions and weaknesses. There are things that hurt me. It's all natural. I'm not the Hulk, I'm not Superman, nor have I ever wanted to play them. I had difficult moments that hardened me, but I stepped forward. Today, I am no longer a guy of 20 or 25, but a family man with two children. I think differently, but my character has remained the same. "

Are you still a fierce guy at 40?

"People, is it possible that you still consider me a football gangster?" I know you had that title and some picture ... I'm no gangster. Of course I'm still a strong guy. I am almost two meters tall and I train hard and work on myself every day. I'm not someone who lies on the beach and shows muscles. I was born like this and I try to adapt the game to my constitution. I'm not as fast as I was at the age of 25, but now I have some other qualities. "

Does that mean you're a good guy?

"Yes I am. When you meet me, you will see how much heart I have. When they don't know me, people hate me. "

Do you want to be loved by everyone?

"No. I just want to be respected when I do something good. In fact, what is the love of all? There can be no love from someone I don't even know. Love is something reserved for those closest to you. Take Inter fans for example. When I was with them, they loved me. Now they hate me. This means that love has never been as real as with loved ones. Love cannot arise and disappear so quickly. I'm not one of those guys who will organize humanitarian actions just for someone to tell them: 'Wow, he's a good guy!'. It's a 'fake'. I'm going to do something because I want to do it. And not because someone would like me. I do it with my heart, some do it with my brain. If I send money to hospitals, it doesn't have to be known. I'm doing this because they really need that money with this damn crown. And I will not brag publicly. "

Is that one of the worst things in football today?

"It's simply part of football. People want to have perfect images. But in the end, they will meet reality. Everything will be known. Look at Tiger Woods. It seemed to be the most perfect character in the world ... People, just be what you are and don't try to be someone else. Don’t manipulate because it will all come back to you. No filters! ”

When you learned the Swedish national anthem, did you do it from the heart, not to be loved in your own country?

"When I was little, I didn't feel like a Swede. My parents are from Bosnia and Croatia. They influenced me to feel different, to look at me differently, to judge me differently and to treat me differently. That's why I didn't feel 100 percent Swedish. But today I am 100 percent Swedish. Even in France today, many talk about some old France and old times. The world today is full of various mixes and contrasts. And it doesn’t mean you’re not 100 percent Swedish or French if you accept that world. When you are young, you do not understand some things. It is mentally difficult when you are treated differently as a child. People think that it will pass quickly, and they do not know that the consequences remain for years. I was always in favor of getting the strongest blow at once because the pain lasts less than being constantly harassed with small and vile blows. Constant harassment leaves longer traumas. But those people who are harassing do not know that they are backward and live in the old world while we pass in front of them with the new world. It is a world of open minds in which I am Swedish and in which my children are Swedes. "

Do you still think differently from LeBron James, with whom you used to be friends?

"I do not want to enter politics because it divides people. Football unites people. I was lucky to meet people I would never have met without football. From all over the world. "Sport and politics are two different worlds and I am glad to be in the former."

But it happens that you express an attitude that has to do with politics.

"We athletes spread love and joy. I'm good at it and I know how to do it. You will not bring politics into my world. "

What are your fears and anxieties?

"With this corona situation, the world has changed completely. The situation is improving a bit, but ... The other day I went out to a restaurant with my family. It was weird. Then cam video audience in stadiums. And that was weird to me. I got used to it and I only wanted one thing: To go home ?! I'm used to the house, the masks ... It won't be easy to come back mentally. I hope that everything will be the same as before, but I am afraid that this will leave consequences on people. "

When you became a parent, did your children bring fears?

"There is no room for fear when we talk about children. We can talk about weaknesses. When you have children, they become your weakness. Then your life is no longer in your hands but in theirs. They become the most important ... Guys, we missed the interview date! I won't give you any more! I'm too expensive to tell you so much, ha-ha-ha ... "

How expensive are you?

"A lot ... Ask PSG!"

Can I have another five, ten minutes?

"Come on."

We would like to ask you about retirement. Are you afraid to stop playing football?

"A little bit. It is difficult for every football player when he has to retire. You have been programmed throughout your career. It is known when you get up, have breakfast, train, have lunch, rest, have dinner ... Someone else takes care of everything, it's just yours to press the 'repeat' button every day. The first day you wake up at the end of your playing career, you ask yourself, 'What the hell am I going to do today?' You are no longer programmed and you do not know what to do. That scares me a little. But what should I do? Luckily, I don’t think about it yet. I'm not for retirement. "

We in France call it the ‘little death’.

"That's it! Absolutely! After a lot depends on what kind of person you are. How will you cope and how will you fight. It's not easy".

But isn't that some kind of relief? You can eat and drink whatever you want

"After my playing career, I want to disappear. When you are in this world like me for so long and you know what you have been through physically and mentally, you just need to disappear and enjoy life

- TRUMP DOES THE UNTHINKABLE. ~ by Liz Crokin

As an entertainment journalist, I've had the opportunity to cover Trump for over a decade, and in all my years covering him I've NEVER heard anything negative about the man until he announced he was running for president.

Keep in mind, I got paid a lot of money to dig up dirt on celebrities like Trump for a living so a scandalous story on the famous billionaire could've potentially sold a lot of magazines and would've been a Huge feather in my cap.

Instead, I found that he doesn't drink alcohol or do drugs, he's a hardworking businessman. On top of that, he's one of the most generous celebrities in the world with a heart filled with more gold than his $100 million New York penthouse.

Since the media has failed so miserably at reporting the truth about Trump, I decided to put together some of the acts of kindness he's committed over three decades which has gone virtually unnoticed or fallen on deaf ears.

In 1986, Trump prevented the foreclosure of Annabell Hill's family farm after her husband committed suicide. Trump personally phoned down to the auction to stop the sale of her home and offered the widow money. Trump decided to take action after he saw Hill's pleas for help in news reports.

In 1988, a commercial airline refused to fly Andrew Ten, a sick

Orthodox Jewish child with a rare illness, across the country to get medical care because he had to travel with an elaborate life-support system. His grief-stricken parents contacted Trump for help and he didn't hesitate to send his own plane to take the child from Los Angeles to New York so he could get his treatment.

In 1991, 200 Marines who served in Operation Desert Storm spent time at Camp Lejune in North Carolina before they were scheduled to return home to their families. However, the Marines were told that a mistake had been made and an aircraft would not be able to take them home on their scheduled departure date. When Trump got wind of this, he sent his plane to make two trips from North Carolina to Miami to safely return the Gulf War Marines to their loved ones.

In 1995, a motorist stopped to help Trump after the limo he was traveling in got a flat tire. Trump asked the Good Samaritan how he could repay him for his help. All the man asked for was a bouquet of flowers for his wife. A few weeks later Trump sent the flowers with a note that read: We've paid off your mortgage.

In 1996, Trump filed a lawsuit against the city of Palm Beach ,

Florida, accusing the town of discriminating against his Mar-a-Lago resort club because it allowed Jews and blacks. Abraham Foxman, who as the Anti-Defamation League Director at the time, said Trump put the light on Palm Beach not on the beauty and the glitter, but on its seamier side of discrimination. Foxman also noted that Trump's charge had a trickle-down effect because other clubs followed his lead and

began admitting Jews and blacks.

In 2000, Maury Povich featured a little girl named Megan who struggled with Brittle Bone Disease on his show and Trump happened to be watching. Trump said the little girl's story and positive attitude touched his heart. So he contacted Maury and gifted the little girl and her family with a very generous check.

In 2008, after Jennifer Hudson's family members were tragically murdered in Chicago , Trump put the Oscar-winning actress and her family up at his Windy City hotel for free. In addition to that, Trump's security took extra measures to ensure Hudson and her family members were safe during such a difficult time.

In 2013, New York bus driver Darnell Barton spotted a woman close to the edge of a bridge staring at the traffic below as he drove by. He stopped the bus, got out and put his arm around the woman and saved her life by convincing her to not jump. When Trump heard about this story, he sent the hero bus driver a check simply because he believed his good deed deserved to be rewarded.

In 2014, Trump gave $25,000 to Sgt. Andrew Tamoressi after he spent seven months in a Mexican jail for accidentally crossing the US-Mexico border. President Barack Obama couldn't even be bothered to make one phone call to assist with the United States Marine's release; however, Trump opened his pocketbook to help this serviceman get back on his feet.

In 2016, Melissa Consin Young attended a Trump rally and tearfully thanked Trump for changing her life. She said she proudly stood on stage with Trump as Miss Wisconsin USA in 2005. However, years later she found herself struggling with an incurable illness and during her darkest days, she explained that she received a handwritten letter from Trump telling her she's the bravest woman, I know. She said the opportunities that she got from Trump and his organizations ultimately

provided her Mexican-American son with a full-ride to college.

Lynne Patton, a black female executive for the Trump Organization, released a statement in 2016 defending her boss against accusations that he's a racist and a bigot. She tearfully revealed how she's struggled with substance abuse and addiction for years. Instead of kicking her to the curb, she said the Trump Organization and his entire family loyally stood by her through immensely difficult times.

Donald Trump's kindness knows no bounds and his generosity has and continues to touch the lives of people from every sex, race, and religion. When Trump sees someone in need, he wants to help.

Two decades ago, Oprah asked Trump in a TV interview if he'd ever run for president. He said: "If it got so bad, I would never want to rule it out totally because I really am tired of seeing what's happening with this country.'"

That day has come. Trump sees that America is in need and he wants to help. How unthinkable! On the other hand, have you ever heard of Hillary or Obama ever doing such things with their own resources?

Now that's really unthinkable! Might be worth passing on!!!

Just shows we hired the right guy. If Hollywood , the liberals and the

media ever STOP harassing him, Trump will have time to do many more positive things for our country....the good ole United States of America!!

PS ~ To those who are already Fact Checking, don't bother . . . already did it, and all the stories are TRUE!

The Liberal, progressive, socialists want to destroy this guy. The same mindset crucified Jesus.

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince: Chapter One - Parker Kate’s Once Upon A Time

Chapter one: Riley met an interesting man who brings up a few painful memories from her past.

Keep up with the series here.

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Riley rolled her eyes while watched her creepy boss talking to a young girl who should be celebrating her 21y birthday. Working in a bar wasn’t her goals, but it was kind of fun – you know, most of the time. She left home four years ago, trying to run away from her family destiny and become a journalist. That’s it. Riley likes to watch people, talk to them, go to new adventures. She was always thinking: something would really worth it if her heart wasn’t racing against her chest? No. Absolutely not.

-Waitress! – Riley turned around and saw a young man with a fool smile looking at her. He probably wasn’t drunk, just happy, too happy…She likes happy people.

-How can I help you? – Riley smiled while took her purple pen.

-Please bring us filet mignon! – He smiled wildly. He really was excited.

-Actually, we don’t have… - A guy sited next to the happy one cut her.  

-Yeah, forget it. Maxwell doesn’t have enough sense – He rolled his eyes and Riley made a mental note “grumpy one” – Bring us three hamburgers and we will be fine. And whiskey.

Riley stopped and looked at him.

-So…You are eating for two?

Before the grumpy one could answer, someone appeared behind her.

-I am so sorry! – Riley turned around and saw a man. God. Sorry, I have to be more specific: A gorgeous man.

-Thank you for your patience – He extend his hand and for a minute Riley was confused about what she supposed to do – Miss…?

-Am… - She needed a few seconds to remember her own name. Well. One of them.

-Parker Kate – She smiled and gave him her hand, expecting him to shake it, but he turned it down and kissed it. Usually she is so confident, but for a moment…What an amazing pair of blue eyes. Blonde ones weren’t exactly her type, anyway…

-I am enchanted to meet you, Parker Kate – He had a caring smile – I am Liam.

Riley nodded and stepped back.

-I’ll be back soon with your orders.

The night went smoothly. It was a busy evening of work for Riley since it was really hot –  what was expected from New York City in June – and people wasn’t feeling like staying at home.

-Miss Parker Kate? – Riley heard that gentle voice behind her, again, and smiled. A smiled that she controlled before turning back.

-Yes?

-I am sorry for my friends and I. We didn’t mean to be demanding – There was a soft blush in his cheeks and Riley could feel his anticipation – Would you mind if I asked you something?

-Well – Riley let a soft smile shows up for him – You can ask, we will see what I think about it – Her tone was playful, but he was so tense that didn’t even realize she was flirting with him.

-Would you mind taking us somewhere tonight? Maybe a club. I know it is late, but I thought I could make it up to you and buy you a drink.

Riley let herself analyze him for a moment. He has a soft voice, sweet eyes and seems so worried about every word. He wasn’t insecure, Riley was sure about that, but he was paying attention in every movement, word and sigh.

-Forget about the club – Riley looked at the bar. Liam and his friend were the only people there – I will be taking you to my secret spot in the beach – She got close – If you promise me it is going to be our secret.

They kept eye-contact for a long moment. Riley felt goosebumps. His gaze was so intense that for a moment she wished she could just steal a kiss from him and see what was going to happen next.

-Whatever you wish, Parker Kate – He took her hand and kissed her fingertips without breaking the eye-contact. She felt weak. She definitely was going to kiss that man tonight.

Of course, she kissed. Since she felt Liam’s presence in the bar early that night, she knew something was about to happen. She didn’t know that she was going to spend the entire night laughing by his side, freezing with him on the ocean, talking about his deepest feelings and watching the sunrise in his arms in front of the Statue of Liberty…but she knew something special was about to happen.

-I talked about me all night – Liam whispered in her ear while he tried to put her body even closer to his.

Liam and Riley were sitting at a small boat in front of the Statue of Liberty. She was in his lap and he was tracing lines all around her body. It wasn’t even about desire. He was astonished by her presence, actually, Liam have never felt that way before. Of course, she is gorgeous, but there was more. His feeling was of pure adoration for that woman.

-And I loved every minute of it – Riley whispered back while turning herself to him and smiled.

-You are a dream come true, miss Parker Kate – Liam kissed her again – Can you tell me something before I wake up?

-Wake up? – She smiled playfully.

-I don’t want you to be gone – Liam’s gaze was so serious that Riley lost her train of thought.

-I can’t understand why you are so serious about it – Riley kissed his neck – Are you going to war or…Let me guess! – She was clearly joking – You are from another dimension!

Liam laughed and pressed her closer again.

-What am I doing here? – Liam smiled while felt the smell of her hair. She smelled like vanilla and it was even crazier for him. He always considered himself a simple man with simple taste, actually, a man who knows how to appreciate simple things, like vanilla that, for him, was a complex flavor.  

-Seducing the waitress? – Riley lightly pressed her nose to Liam’s and smile.

Liam sighs heavily and took her hand in his.

-The truth is, Parker Kate…I am the crown prince of Cordonia.

These words meant to Riley more than Liam could ever imagined. She felt her body freezing again – unfortunately, not because of the water – and she found herself speechless. Cordonia. She didn’t hear that name in a long time, but sometimes it stills appear in her worst nightmares. And he was a prince, nothing but Cordonia’s crown prince.

Riley noticed Liam waiting for an answer. His eyes were worried and she felt his body enduring around her. She just…What she could possibly say?

-Are you rich? – Damn it, Riley! Not that.

Liam blinked a feel times and Riley wished she was dead.

-Am… - He was looking for words and then…Stopped and bust out…laughing? Why that man is laughing? Honestly, Riley was so nervous that she laughed with him.

-I don’t know what to ask to a prince…Your highness.

Liam stopped laughing.

-I am not your highness. I am your Liam – The words sounds so natural that he took a few seconds to realized that no, he wasn’t her Liam.

-Oh no, you are not – Riley smiled – But you can be for tonight.

I am sorry I took a few time to post the first chapter but here it is! Hope you like it and let me know if you want to be (un)tagged <3

Tagged: @bebepac @gkittylove99 @parkdoesthings @kingliam2019​ @mom2000aggie​ 

Tell Me More: Part 1 (Sam Drake x Female Reader)

A/N: Okay, so please go easy on me. This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I love to write and I love Sam, so I thought, why not? Ideally, this is just the beginning, but we’ll see how it goes.

Summary: After years of weekly phone calls, you are finally reunited with your longtime friend and fellow journalist, Elena Fisher. You’ve always been deeply fascinated by the stories she’s told you about her life with her husband, Nathan Drake. For the first time, you are introduced to her family, finally meeting those you’ve heard so much about.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1,888

Part 2 | Part 3

You couldn’t believe how close you were to the ocean. You’d always pictured what it would be like, standing in front of this vast body of water, your feet sinking in the stand with each step you took. But no photograph, no image from a movie, and certainly no daydream could replicate the feeling in your chest as you stood, at what felt like, the end of the earth. Or, perhaps, the beginning.

You shook your head, taking one last look at the never-ending stretch of beach behind you and hurried up the steps. With your suitcase in hand, you stood in front of the most delightful beach house that rivaled those you saw on those island home hunting shows. You were here to meet your longtime friend and fellow journalist, Elena Fisher. It had been a while since you’d last seen her in person, though you two had kept in touch over the past few years with weekly phone calls. She was by far, the most fascinating friend you had, though there wasn’t much competition. Her stories always left you slack-jawed, gasping, and begging for every last detail, clinging to the phone for hours. Most, if not all, of her stories involved her now husband, Nathan Drake. While she would describe how each adventure unfolded, you could hear the smile in her voice whenever she mentioned Nate. You could practically see the roll of her eyes as she’d get to the part where, in her words, “Nate would make the worst decisions possible”. Occasionally, you would hear Nate yell across the room and into the phone, either apologizing or trying to provide additional input, more for his sake than your own. You loved catching up with Elena, as your life couldn’t hold a candle to hers. You lived vicariously through her words, hoping one day you’d find yourself in the midst of an epic adventure.

You knew the chances of that were unlikely. You lived alone in the city, most days the stacks of books that overwhelmed your apartment were the only things keeping you company. You got along just fine, you told yourself, unwittingly resigned to this lifestyle. Though you were a journalist, you wanted to veer away from the trivial pieces your editor required of you; local politics, land development, annual spelling bees and the like. Elena’s mentions of pirates and long-lost treasure, ignited something in you. If you were never meant to explore a sinking ship firsthand, you at least had the ability to write about it; make your own stories, experience them through your imagination.

Your heart beat quickly, as you lightly knocked on the door. Not a second later, Elena opened the door, Nate trailing behind her.

“Y/N!” Elena squealed delightedly. You smiled and leaned in to hug her, so happy to finally see your friend in the flesh. “Come on in!”

Nate held out his hand to you, a huge smile on his face. “It’s great to finally meet you. We’re so happy you could finally make it out here.”

“How have you been?” Elena offered you a drink as you dropped your bag next to the door.

“Oh, I’ve been doing fine. Mostly working, hoping to get started on a new project soon.” You smiled tightly, taking a sip of your drink, embarrassed to admit exactly how inspired you were by Elena’s life. “Thank you so much for inviting me out here, this place is absolutely amazing.” You followed Elena and Nate into the house. Your eyes wandered from one furniture piece to the next, layers of bright orange and green fabrics, antique tables inlayed with elaborate patterns, photos of the two of them in foreign cities, and dozens of artifacts displayed on every available surface. Your mind was reeling, a thousand questions popping into your mind about the history each piece held.

“Thank you. It’s taken a while, but this place is definitely home.” Elena smiled, turning to look at her husband.

“And what’s home without family?” Nate beamed back at his wife, then turned to face you. “Actually, my brother and our friend Sully are coming for the weekend. They called last minute, so it’s gonna be a full house. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, not at all.” You smiled; a prickle of excitement ran through you. You knew of Sully from Elena’s stories, as well as Nate’s brother, Sam. You were looking forward to putting faces to the names you’ve heard so much about. It felt strange, like you were being reunited with old friends, though you had never met them before.

For the next few hours you sat with Nate and Elena as they told you about their most recent projects, occasionally reflecting on their adventures from the past. You told them about life in the city and the last few pieces you’ve written, as well as the string of eventful dates you’d been on in the past few months. You cringed while telling the story of the man who had brought you home, only to end up meeting his rambunctious, yet very illegal, pet chimpanzee. You explained how you learned to change its diaper that night and how you had to throw your dress away afterwards.

As the sun started to set, you heard a car pull up to the house, the engine rumbling loudly. A moment later, the door flew open. Easy laugher suddenly filled the room, as Sam and Sully emerged, finishing up a conversation. They both looked a bit worn and a tad sweaty, but the grins on both their faces made it clear that they were nothing but content and relieved to be home.

“Well, look who it is.” Nate walked over to the two men, clapping a hand on Sully’s back, nodding at his brother at the same time. “Glad to see you both in one piece.”

“Yeah, well barely, no thanks to this guy.” Sully shook his head, looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam chuckled and lifted his hands innocently in response. Elena stood up, waving for you to follow her.

“Well, hello gentlemen. You two showed up just in time, we happen to have a guest over for the weekend.” Elena gave them both a quick hug, then turned to you. “Boys, this is Y/N. We’ve known each other for ages and are finally having a chance to properly catch up.” You approached the group, finally taking in the scene before you.

“Victor Sullivan. You can call me Sully, if you’d like. Any friend of Elena’s is certainly a friend of mine.” He smiled warmly, as he shook your hand. “How are you my dear?”

You tried to focus on older gentleman in front of you, but your eyes drifted immediately towards Sam. Elena had shown you a picture of the boys when they were young, both smiling adorably in silly hats. But you weren’t quite prepared for the image standing in front of you. You wanted to laugh at yourself, for the only three words that echoed into your mind were tall, dark, and handsome. Sam’s eyes easily met yours, a smirk playing on his lips. His dark hair was pushed back, showing off soft curls at the nape of his neck. You could see the markings of a tattoo but were too far away to make out what it was. Through his thin brown t-shirt, you could see how defined his chest was, how much strength his arms held, and how his large his hands were as they rested on his hips. Before your eyes could wander any lower, you realized Sully had asked you a question and was waiting for a response. You perked your head up at the realization.

“I-I’m doing well, thank you,” you stammered. “It, uh, it’s great to finally meet you. Elena’s told me so much about you.” You smiled, a nervous energy forming in the pit of your stomach.

“Uh-oh, do I want to know what she said ‘bout me?” Sam spoke for the first time, meeting your eyes again, and extending his hand. You could hear Elena chuckle, while you tried to come up with a response. You shook his hand quickly, trying not to focus on, once again, how massive his hands were.

“Hi.” You could only manage one word and felt like a complete idiot for it. Sam smiled, clearly amused at your skittishness. Thankfully, Nate then offered drinks to Sam and Sully, ushering everyone back into the living room.

The rest of the evening was spent listening to Sam talk about the job he and Sully had just returned from. Elena explained a bit more about you and your friendship, while Sully often asked you questions about your life. Occasionally, Sam would ask you a question and you’d do your best to keep your voice even and answer in complete sentences. Maybe he didn’t think you were a freak after all. At least, not completely.

When it got close to midnight, Elena showed you to the guest room and helped you get settled in. She hugged you once again, expressing how happy she was that you were here. It was clear she spent the majority of her time surrounded by men, so it must have been a breath of fresh air to have another woman around.

As you settled into bed, your mind went over the most recent story Elena had told you, the one about Libertalia. You knew how those events changed everything for them. You knew that it was decades in the making, starting when Nate and Sam were young. You knew about Sam and what he had gone through to get to this point. Even today, you were able to hear parts of the story retold by Nate himself. You knew the story of the Drake brothers so well, that meeting them today felt surreal. Like characters from a story come to life, inviting you into their home.

You felt your mind slowly give way to sleep, but just before sleep could overcome you, your mind went back to Sam one last time. You weren’t expecting to have such a strong reaction to him. You were honest enough with yourself to admit that you found him very attractive, so much so that you could feel yourself staring at him throughout the night, indulging in a look whenever you thought he was distracted.

You knew your reaction wasn’t all physical. Because of your knowledge about his life, you felt like you knew him or at least a part of him. Your heart ached for him, for his past, for all the time he lost. Your heart also warmed at the love he’d given his brother throughout the years, at the determination he had for honoring his mother’s work, for overcoming so much.

Even knowing about his past, he was still a stranger to you. You felt silly for having such strong emotions towards a man you met only a few hours ago. Besides the familiarity you had gained through knowing his sister-in-law, did you two even have anything in common? You highly doubted so. You exhaled, hugging yourself beneath the covers, your mind finally relaxing. As you felt your body grow heavy for the last time, one final image unwittingly flittered through your mind: those man’s damn hands.

Hangman’s Mercy

Chapter 1

Summary: After the war, Levi remembers how he fell in love with the executioner.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Decapitation, Suggestive Themes, Language, Period-typical Sexism.

On a summer morning, outside an oceanfront cafe, Levi longed for the executioner's embrace. Seagulls cawed on the distant beach and the gentle ocean breeze blew salty air over his steaming cup of tea. Chamomile; the executioner's favorite. Especially with a little honey after a stressful day. They spent countless nights together, sitting across a candlelit table when neither of them could sleep or in each other’s arms, with a hot pot of chamomile tea between them. God, he missed those days. 

The chamomile tea at the Marelean cafe did not taste as sweet, even with honey. Maybe that was just because of the company. Not that Levi minded the overzealous journalist scribbling in his journal across from him. After all, he paid well, and it wasn’t like Levi had much to do after the war. Despite the massive loss of life, humanity trudged towards a new sense of normalcy only weeks later. Businesses had to continue, people needed a new sense of purpose or just a moment of peace, and society was never one to stay still. Levi still had to make a living in a world without titans, so when a fast-talking kid with a fire in his eyes offered to pay him for interviews he took the opportunity.

The young man, Marty Chase, tapped his pen against a pile of notes with a nervous energy. Levi took a few days to get to know Marty’s work before he agreed to a biography, and the kid checked out. Marty co-authored three bestsellers before the age of thirty, all biographies of Marelean warriors. Levi did not know any of the subjects, but he felt like he did after a few chapters into his works. How he wove together someone’s life with just interviews and notes, Levi did not know. Some sort of creative witchcraft he would never understand. 

Marty flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and clicked his pen. “When I was listening back to our last session, you mentioned an executioner a couple of times. Tell me about that.”

“What about her?”

“Her?” Marty made a note and underlined the fact the executioner was a woman several times. He flipped back through his notes, finding some highlighted passages in the ink. “How did you know her?”

Steam rose from his teacup, and Levi watched as it disappeared into the wind. He hadn’t realized he mentioned the executioner enough during his interviews for Marty to take notice. In fact, he tried to leave the executioner out of it as much as he could. Those who read his biography wouldn’t give a damn about that. Why would they? They wanted to know about his military experience, his title of Humanity’s Strongest, about Eren Jaeger, the military coup, what he saw, and what he experienced. They wanted to know what his comrades could no longer share. Without bringing her into it, they could know all of that. Would she even want them to know? 

Levi tasted the chamomile on his tongue and closed his eyes, wishing it was as sweet as he remembered on her lips. He could not ask her permission to share her part of the story. It was impossible. Levi turned the warm teacup in his hands and sighed.

“I almost asked her to marry me.”

The incessant pen clicking stopped. Marty stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish out of water. Marty dove into the fat briefcase he lugged around and retrieved that stupid little recording device. It was slightly bigger than a deck of cards with black casing and a roll of tape inside. “And you thought you could just leave out that teensy-weensy, tiny, detail?”

Levi shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d care about that.”

Marty rolled his eyes, as if Levi said something ridiculous, like cats could be herded or the moon didn’t exist. “This stuff is the heart of a good story, no pun intended,” he said. “You’re pretty extraordinary, Mr. Ackerman, no two ways about that. But, people like you seem so far out of reach to an average guy like me. What we need is something to reel you back in. Something to tell our audience, ‘hey, this guy is as human as he is amazing’, and what’s more human than romantic love?”

“Taking a shit?” 

Marty set his pen on the table and eyed him like a disappointed teacher looking at the class clown. “If you really don’t think she’s important, you don’t have to tell me about her.”

“Don’t give me the guilt trip shit, Marty.” Levi finished his tea and set the empty cup at the edge of the iron bistro table. “You have plans today?”

“Not if you have a story to tell me.”

“Then get me another cup of tea. Lavender and bergamot, no sweetener.”

Marty beamed like Levi had offered a pot of gold instead of a day's worth of work. Though to Marty, those two were likely one and the same. His book about Reiner’s time in Paradis sold out in some of the biggest shops Marley offered. Well, Levi hoped the paycheck would be worth both of their time. 

After Marty returned with the tea and a heart-attack inducing amount of coffee, he pressed the little red button on the side of his recording device. He leaned in close to the speaker and rattled off his typical prelude to the recording. “Levi Ackerman. Tape thirty-two. Who is the executioner?”

Levi sipped his fresh cup of tea, thankful for the bit of caffeine because he knew he’d be needing it. “Don’t turn my biography into a romance novel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Ackerman,” Marty answered without missing a beat. He clicked his pen and tapped it against the first line in his notebook. “Now, tell me how you first met the executioner.”

Levi held his cup of tea just above the table, not sure if he was going to set it down or take another sip. He guessed he had nothing to lose by sharing their story. “Twenty-five years ago, I saw my first beheading. I was still just a kid scraping by in the Underground…”

Levi, a tiny, twelve-year-old piece of garbage, had only been on his own for a few weeks. Kenny taught him just enough to take care of himself and drop-kicked him from the relative safety of the nest to the dogs. With Kenny, awful as he was, Levi at least felt a sense of safety with an adult around. Once that was ripped from under him, it took him a while to regain his bearings. 

The Sunday market was the perfect place to pick pockets and swipe valuables, whether they were from a vendor or a customer. The place was so crowded, a small kid like him could disappear in an instant. He just needed to find the right target. Ideally, someone who looked like they didn’t belong Underground. Someone who would be unused to the dim lighting, the stale air thick with the smell of smoke, and the echoing chatter of thousands of people crammed into one place. Few people from above ground went to the Sunday market, but there were enough to make them easy pickings. 

On the outskirts of the market, right outside a general store where Kenny used to buy his liquor, sat a young girl atop some supply crates. One look at her, and Levi knew she was the perfect target. Clean clothes? Check. Shiny hair? Check. Dirt-free face? Check? Alone? Also check. The pretty, sun-kissed face was also a dead giveaway. The brown leather satchel on her lap, scratch-free with shiny copper buckles, would be a great steal. He just had to get a hold of it.

Levi smoothed his ratty, moth-bitten coat and checked his hair in a dusty shop window. Well, he did not look so bad that the girl would run away from him screaming. At least he hoped he didn’t. Not that he cared. Normally, he would go for a more covert approach, one where his target would never know he was there, but there was no way he could take the bag right off of her lap. He’d have to get her to put it down. 

With his heart beating faster than a bat's wings, he approached the girl. When she smiled at him, his breath caught in his throat. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He focused on the bag. Even if there was nothing good in there, the bag itself would be worth something, whether it be money or for his own use. 

Unable to keep eye contact, he swallowed and looked at his shoes, restless fingers pulling at a loose thread in his pocket. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking in a way that it hadn’t before. He cleared his throat and willed the heat from his face. What was wrong with him?

The girl leaned on her bag. “Hi,” she said with a pretty, white smile. “I like your haircut.”

His eyes widened at the unexpected compliment and the blush he swallowed before heat rushed right back to his face. Thank the walls the Underground was dark, because he was certain she would have laughed if she saw the color on his face. “Thanks, uhh—” he toyed with the thread in his pocket. “I, uh, like your face.” Stupid. Idiot. Maybe if he ran away right now, she would forget about the whole thing.

She covered her mouth when she giggled. It was the cutest thing he had ever heard. What the hell? Was this what Kenny meant when told Levi that girls would stop being gross one day? What a joke. A terrible, awful joke.

He needed to act fast. Plan A: get the girl to stand. Maybe she would put the bag down for a second, long enough for him to grab it and run. He scratched the back of his neck and eyed the crate she was sitting on. “I need to get to that box.” 

“Oh.” The girl straightened, one hand still on her bag. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way,” she said and pushed herself off the crates, her long green skirt billowing behind her. Unfortunately, she looped the handle around her forearm, keeping it close.

Well, that did not work. Time for Plan B. Levi looked over the crate and found a serial number. He pretended to examine it for a second before he turned back to the girl. “Can you help me move this?” he asked. “I think I need the one below it.”

Still smiling, the girl set her bag down and dusted her hands off on her skirt. “Sure. What should I do?”

Perfect. “Grab that side.” He pointed to the side of the crate furthest away from her bag. Without question, she tucked her fingers under one side of the crate while Levi lifted the other. Sure, he could have just snatched the bag while she had her back turned, but that was too risky. He wanted a little more of a head start before she followed him. 

Levi lifted the top crate well off of the bottom one, and the little girl followed, shuffling her feet against the cobblestone. Her skinny arms strained and her cheeks colored with exertion. There was his chance. 

His fingers released, and Levi’s end of the crate crashed into the ground. The girl faltered and Levi acted before the girl could even let go of her half of the crate. His deft hands swiped the bag as he darted past. Too easy. Way too easy. Levi couldn’t help but smile to himself as he swung the bag over his shoulder and the girl shouted after him. Levi circled around the edge of the market to put some distance between him and the girl before he ducked into the thick of the crowd. 

In the bustling marketplace, Levi swung the bag onto his shoulder and blended in among the other patrons. No one gave him a second look, like he was just there for a bit of shopping, like everyone else. Easy, he thought to himself. Even if the bag had little in it, the bag itself was nice. Sturdy, with lots of pockets and a comfortable strap. Maybe he’d even keep it for himself instead of pawning it off. 

When Levi ducked through a small crowd near a pastry stand, he felt a sudden tug at the back of his jacket. His collar caught his throat as he was yanked back, and a hand the size of his head gripped his shoulder like a vice. 

“Say, my daughter has a bag just like that,” said a deep, gravelly voice as the grip on his shoulder tightened. 

Levi felt like his heart had stopped. No. What were the fucking chances. The surrounding people started to take notice of the altercation and backed away. People in the Underground knew Levi through reputation alone, and he had taken on men twice his size more times than he could count. Too late not to cause a scene. 

Levi grasped his knife and struck behind him, the blade making contact with the man’s flesh. The man groaned and Levi felt another hand on him as he was spun around. Levi’s heart jumped to his throat. This man wasn’t twice his size, he was even bigger. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought a titan had made it Underground. 

Under a bushy red beard that surrounded his face like a lion’s mane, he smiled, a gold tooth front and center of his grin. Levi briefly wondered how much the tooth was worth before he felt his knife plucked from his hand. 

“Get him, Ivor!” yelled someone in the crowd. 

Another man shouted. “Teach that shit a lesson, hangman!”

The hangman. The fucking hangman. Levi felt his blood run cold as he stared up at the monstrous man. So he was the man Kenny would talk about when he got drunk. The one man that Kenny actually seemed to fear. Not because he thought Ivor would hunt him down, but because Ivor would be the one to carry out his sentence if he was ever tried for his crimes. Remembering the way Kenny described how the hangman would torture his victims before the execution made Levi’s stomach turn.

“I’m not going to fight a child,” Ivor called back to the crowd. “Piss off. You’re not getting a damn show, you buzzards.”

The crowd did not disperse as more insults and jeers were thrown the hangman’s way. 

Ivor ignored the taunts. Instead, the hangman focused his pale blue eyes into Levi’s gray ones. “I made that bag for my daughter,” he said. “All it has in it is tea and bad handwritten poetry. I’d tell you to see for yourself, but she’d kill me if I let a stranger read her poems,” he added with a light chuckle. 

“Let go of me.”

One hand tightened its grip while the other let go, giving Levi what was supposed to be a friendly pat. “Aye, can’t do that until I get that bag back, son.” 

Levi tossed the bag on the ground. Whatever. He knew when to cut his losses. “Take it.” 

Still not letting go of him, Ivor placed a boot on the bag strap, keeping it secure. “Thank you, my boy,” he boomed and ruffled Levi’s hair. Ivor knelt as close to Levi’s level as he could, his trench coat made of thick hide bunching up at his feet. He smelled of bergamot and lemon, like he had doused himself in perfumes. Something about Ivor contradicted all of Levi’s expectations: respected and ridiculed, fearsome and jovial, a killer with kind eyes. Despite the iron grip on his shoulder, the hangman seemed… almost nice? Much more tolerant than most of the folks Levi came across, and definitely more so than the ones who felt they were wronged. Blood soaked through Ivor’s pant leg where Levi had slashed his knife, but Ivor did not acknowledge it.

“Take this, boy,” he said in a rough voice barely above a whisper. Ivor reached into his pocket and pressed a small, yet heavy, bag of coins into Levi’s hands, doing his best to shield the transaction from the crowd. “Stay out of trouble. If you don’t, you’ll be seeing me again, boy. And next time, I won’t be so nice.” 

Ivor picked up his daughter’s bag and finally released his hold on Levi, patting him on his certainly bruised shoulder. Levi stumbled back, reaching for the knife that was no longer there. Right. The hangman had tossed it aside. Levi pocketed the coins and stood his ground, waiting for an opening to grab his knife again. 

Around them, the crowd booed. They hurled words not even Kenny would have used the hangman’s way, and he stood tall and proud, stoic as a statue. When a piece of rotten vegetable pelted Ivor’s coat, he brushed off with a laugh as people in the crowd continued to taunt and jeer. The hangman turned to look at Levi once more, before giving a subtle nod towards a break in the crowd. Levi swore he saw the man mouth the word ‘go’ from behind his massive beard.

“Thought you were going to give us a show, hangman!” a shrill woman shouted.

Ivor tossed the bag over his shoulder. “You’ll be getting a show tomorrow.” He spread his arms with all the showmanship of a magician. “Now stop gawking and do something with your miserable lives, you scabs!”

With a slight limp, Ivor turned into the crowd. Not really thinking, Levi picked his knife off the ground and ran the opposite direction. He did not know where he was going, just that he needed to get out of the marketplace and away from anyone who saw Ivor give him money. Maybe that was the man’s true intention: to put a target on Levi’s back with the cash rather than true altruism. Why else would he give a kid who just stabbed him a satchel full of coins?

The woman’s voice rang in his head. Give us a show, hangman! He was the fucking hangman, and Levi had robbed the hangman’s kid. Levi never felt so stupid in his life. The human embodiment of Death had Levi in his grip, at his mercy, and let him live. 

With that gift, Levi ran and did not stop until he reached his lodgings. Levi locked the door behind him and slid to the floor to catch his breath. 

When his breathing settled, he pulled the bag of coins out and counted them. More than he expected. A lot more. Enough to get him food for an entire month, or even longer if he planned right. Levi closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wooden door behind him. What the hell kind of person gave a piece of shit like him such a gift? Maybe Ivor had something wrong with him.

Despite how Levi never wanted to see the executioner again, Levi found himself drawn to the town square the following afternoon. He never watched an execution before, but he knew where they took place. The crowd made for good pickings, as those who came to watch were distracted by the morbid spectacle and alcohol. Levi always took his pickings and left before the cart with the condemned even made it to the podium.

There were no gallows for hanging, just a raised platform with a block of wood at the center. People gathered a healthy distance away from the platform. Out of the splash zone, as one man said. Levi did not want to think about how that distance was determined, and stood behind two larger men as a human shield. He could see the podium well enough between them, so long as they stood relatively still. It would have been so easy to swipe something right out of their pockets, but he resisted. It was a day for observation, and observation only. He didn’t know why, but he needed to see the executioner in action. He needed to know it was, in fact, the same man he met the day before. 

Nothing he knew of the man, the little he did know, made any sense. Obviously respected, yet despised. A brute who didn’t flinch at a knife slicing his thigh and laughed off a jeering crowd. A man who made bags for his daughter, gave coins to a kid who stabbed him, and went off to kill a person the next day.

One man in front of him, with a stocky build and a mustache that looked like a push broom, puffed at his cigarette. “Any idea what this one did?”

His friend, a taller man with a ponytail, replied, “I heard she killed a few of her customers from the whore house. Poor bastards. Thought they were paying for a good time, then they’d get home and drop dead. Took them ages to find out why.”

“How many did she get?” 

“At least twelve, from what I’ve heard.”

“Shit.” The mustached man tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boots. “Executioner will let us know.” 

The man with a ponytail cocked his chin towards the main road. “Speak of the devil and he will come,” he said. 

Far down the end of the main road, a draft horse pulled a rickety wagon fixed with a rusty iron cage. The giant, red-haired hangman sat at the front of the cart, his boxy gloved hands gripping the reins as he shouted at people to get out of the way. Beside him was the little girl from yesterday, hugging her precious bag.

“Can’t believe he’s training her,” Mustache Man muttered.

Ponytail shrugged. “Not like she has many other prospects,” he said. “Being the hangman’s kid, it’s not like men will be lining up for her. Hell, I don’t know if a whore house would take her.”

Mustache Man hummed thoughtfully and lit up another cigarette. “Poor kid.” 

The wagon reached the podium and Ivor hauled himself down from the rider seat, the wagon creaking with the sudden loss of weight. Levi would not have been surprised if the ground shook when those massive boots hit the pavement like a fallen powder keg. Ivor turned back to the cart and gingerly lifted his daughter and set her down beside him. Without a word, the girl dug into her bag and passed a vial to her father before she went to the edge of the podium.

A man in a Military Police uniform lingered nearby. Probably acting as some sort of bailiff, Levi figured, judging by the official-looking documents clutched between his fingers. He ascended to the podium and shouted something to Ivor, who went to the back of the wagon. 

A desperate wail echoed over the crowd when Ivor swung open the metal bars. A frail woman with her hands tied behind her back scrambled to the back of the wagon, sobbing and pleading. Her hair had been cut short, but Levi recognized her from the brothel as a woman his mother would sometimes talk to. Her name was Ada, if he remembered correctly, and she was almost unrecognizable between the haphazardly chopped hair and tear-stained face. Kicking at his meaty hands, squirming away from his vice-like grip, Ivor pulled her from the cart despite her best efforts. 

Turning her away from the crowd, Ivor pinched her jaw and dumped the vial down her throat. He held her mouth shut until she swallowed as he whispered something in her ear. Sobbing, tears leaving salty streaks on her face and snot dripping from her nose, she stopped fighting him. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung like a rag doll, as if she had finally accepted what was coming to her. Guiding her by the back of the neck, Ivor led Ada up four wooden steps to the chopping block, his blocky hand grasping her arm when she tripped. 

The crowd booed and jeered as Ivor pushed Ada to her knees in front of the block. She stared ahead, her eyes already dead and her body slumping to the side. Ivor righted her long enough to tie a blindfold over her eyes before she slumped over again. The man from the Military Police rang a bell to quiet the crowd. When the chatter and yelling subsided, he read the charges brought before Ada. Like the gentlemen in front of him had said, she had confessed to poisoning at least a dozen men, all of whom were prior customers of the brothel. 

Once the charges had been read, Ivor pushed the woman down. With one massive hand on the back of her skull, he guided her neck, so it rested across the chopping block. The moment he let go, her head lolled to the side.

Releasing Ada to pick up the ax, Ivor watched as she slipped off the block completely. Her body curled up into itself like a frightened child, wetness seeping through her blindfold. He set the ax down on its head, holding it upright with one hand and motioning for his daughter with the other. The crowd grew quiet as the little girl joined him on the podium.

“Shit,” Ponytail drawled with more pity than Levi ever thought could fit into a curse word. 

“Yeah,” Mustache Man agreed, forgetting the cigarette that burned between his finger tips.

Levi could not hear what Ivor said, but the girl nodded and knelt in front of Ada. Her small hands lifted Ada from beneath her jaw and pulled her back onto the chopping block. With Ada’s neck in place, the girl walked back on her knees as far away from the block as she could manage without letting go of Ada’s hair.

Ivor wrapped his bulking hands around the long handle of the ax and poised himself beside the block, waiting.

When the man from the Military Police gave the signal, Ivor hoisted the ax into the air and brought it down. Once, then once again, each strike accompanied by the thud of metal against flesh, wet plops of blood, and gasps of horror and cheers from the crowd. At least two people vomited at the sight and one man in the front row fainted. 

Pale in the face and speckled with blood, the little girl detangled her fingers from Ada’s hair. Ada’s head rolled a few inches from where the girl had dropped it, blood staining the wooden podium in its path. The girl did not move until Ivor yanked her to her feet. Deaf to the audience, the little girl walked back to the cart as though she were drawn by a string and not of her own accord. 

The man from the Military Police pronounced Ada dead as Ivor held up the still dripping head to the crowd. Levi’s stomach turned. For a moment, he thought he might join the people who lost their lunch at the sight, but he swallowed thickly and turned away. If he never saw either of them again, it would be too soon. 

Twenty-five years later, and he still remembered that afternoon more clearly than he would have liked. It was not the most brutal death Levi had witnessed. Titans were plenty worse. Something else stood out about that one in particular, but Levi did not really know what. Even as he recounted the story to Marty, he could not say why the memory stuck with him so strongly. 

Marty poured creamer into his coffee and paused the recording device. Quietly, he wrote a few notes while Levi finished his cup of tea. Even though Marty had listened to the very worst of Levi’s stories, it seemed the story about a little girl holding a severed head and struck him differently. The change in disposition only lasted long enough for Marty to finish writing his notes, the gears in his brain seemed to turn as he did so. Marty checked his recording device and looked up at Levi, intrigue written across his face.

Levi picked up one of the cranberry scones Marty ordered almost twenty minutes ago. “You’ve got questions.”

Marty tapped his pen. “I do,” he said. “But first, I want to hear what happened next.”

TGF Thoughts: 4x04-- The Gang is Satirized and Doesn’t Like It

The gang doesn’t like being satirized and I don’t like this episode.

No episode needs to be 57 minutes long. Is it possible that seeing the runtime put me in a bad mood before watching this episode? Absolutely.

Bianca is still trying to get Lucca to take a week off and come play on the beach. This is weird, right?

She’s using a drone to take a selfie which… yikes. Bianca asks what Lucca has in Chicago to match the beach. Lucca takes a look out the window and instead of seeing FakeChicago, she sees a window washer’s ass crack. Lucca protests that she has work in Chicago and can’t leave (are we going to mention her baby?). Before Bianca can ask more questions, David Lee calls Lucca into a meeting.

A former client who says he’s been “bouncing from one [firm] to the other” (which sort of explains why David Lee and Lucca would both have experience with this client who was at RBL a year ago?) is angry because he’s being defamed by a new play. He says his divorce is in the play and wants to sue.

Lucca ChumHums the playwright and recognizes him as a former associate. She brings the case to Adrian’s attention. Before Adrian understands that confidential info made it into the play, he talks about how you shouldn’t give satire oxygen because it will just go away. Easier said than done, huh, Adrian? 

They DID actually fire Alan North for drug use last year. We never saw the actor but his firing was referenced as precedent for firing Maia. Thanks Alan, I guess? 

(Right, I used to spend most of these recaps complaining about Maia! It is very nice not to be doing that anymore.)

Adrian jumps into the case to prevent the client from suing RBL.

We have to see the scene that ended the last episode again. That’s a little clumsy. Maybe trim the stuff we’ve already seen in an episode that’s this long? 

How does Jay POSSIBLY know that one specific dude up at STRL is blocking Diane from searching “What is Memo 618” on Bar-Swarm? I have questions.

Diane immediately heads upstairs to ask this dude about Memo 618. Jay wonders if that’s smart and Diane doesn’t care. As I said to an anon earlier, I feel like now is the time to get a journalist on the case.

Even though Diane storms upstairs uninvited, she’s told “they’re waiting for you.” Creepy.

Diane meets a lot of people, including Bryan Kneef (of internet blocking fame) and a dude who won’t stop hiccuping. 

Oh GOD are we going to have to hear one of these stupid stories from Mr. Firth in every single episode? No fucking wonder this episode is so long. 

Bryan is mad at Diane for poaching his clients. Diane has no idea what he’s talking about. Diane seems to know that her investigator is checking his clients to figure out why he’s blocking her internet. Does Diane actually know Jay is investigating his clients? Or is she just assuming that’s how he found out who was doing the blocking? Because literally as soon as Diane heard Kneef’s name she ran upstairs; there would be no time for her or Jay to begin looking into his clients. 

Mr. Firth asks for Diane not to steal Kneef’s clients and Kneef not to block Diane’s internet access. They agree, but it’s clear neither of them are going to stop doing what they were doing. 

Jay discovers that one of Kneef’s cases disappeared… when he was losing.

Oh, Caleb’s last name is Garlin, not Garland. Noted. Also, I think I mistakenly said STRL was British a few weeks ago. It doesn’t appear to be. 

Marissa bothers Caleb again and asks him to tell her a joke. He does, but she’s unimpressed. 

Caleb has a photographic memory. I like Caleb so far. I feel like he’s kind of what they wanted Finn to be-- a charming good guy. But we’ll see; it’s early yet. 

Caleb gives Diane the number of a legal code the judge needed to review. In a sequence that goes on 30 seconds too long, Diane discovers this code redirects to another code, which redirects right back endlessly. Fun! 

When Diane goes to check a physical book, she discovers all the legal books are fake. Sounds about right. 

Ah, this terrible attorney who hits on young women is back because of reasons related to the other case that disappeared. Marissa is now helping Diane with her 618 quest, maybe because she’s met this creep before?

Diane offers to represent him (he’s being sued for doing a shitty job on disappearing case).

Meanwhile, Adrian and Charlotte go to see “Cocksucker in Chains”, which turns out to be about an African American firm populated by characters who are clearly supposed to be the RBL partners. Julius narrates the play, Adrian likes to be dominated by the Diane character while roleplaying a slave to Diane’s dominatrix (yikes), etc. Adrian is named “Aiden” and Diane is “Dana”. This seems like a good time to remind you all of the original TGW character names from the Pilot outline: Alicia Follick, David Follick (and David Follick Jr.!!!), Dawna Lockhart, and Will Garvin.

The first time through, I was appreciative (and shocked) we got so few scenes from the play. Usually if the Kings have a device like this, we tend to get… more of the device than is necessary. Y’all know how this one turns out. 

This play, from what we see of it, looks kind of terrible. That said, I think it’s SUPER realistic, and interesting, that a low-level black associate would see all the white people coming into the firm as “dominating” a black man who gets off on being submissive. I don’t think that’s an accurate characterization of Adrian’s actions but if you don’t know his reasoning or how things played out, it absolutely could seem like Diane has all the power. And I imagine that young, idealistic lawyers who signed on to work at a firm that was proudly all-black would not have been thrilled by Diane’s sudden appearance and all of the changes that followed. Remember how in season one RBL had things it stood for and then Barbara left and then all it stood for was money?

Relatedly, remember that little throwaway line about how Barbara donated MORE money to HRC than Diane Lockhart did? Heh.

Adrian, as the episode title indicates, DOES NOT LIKE BEING SATIRIZED and tells Lucca they need to shut the play down. That escalated quickly.

Please explain to me how I accidentally memorized the name of the actor playing Kovac but didn’t memorize the character’s name. 

Diane tells Liz and Adrian about her latest Memo 618 adventure and Adrian keeps asking why this matters. “I’m not asking for your permission; I’m just filling you in,” Diane notes. “Maybe you should be asking for our permission,” Adrian counters because he does not want to be dominated by Diane. “Maybe. But I’m not,” she responds.

Liz thinks that Adrian acted weirdly. Adrian explains he doesn’t like how Diane insinuates she can overrule them. Liz has no idea what Adrian is talking about. So he explains the play. Liz still doesn’t think it’s a big deal and asks to take it over.

She then gets Caleb involved-- I guess Lucca is just done working now? Okay? It was nice to have Lucca scenes in this episode while it lasted!!! 

Liz and Caleb go to see the play and now we get to see the scenes where Liz is satirized. Fake Liz sings, because of COURSE they are going to have the FAKE version of her sing. Her song is about how her daddy is a sexual predator. It’s quite upsetting.

Liz and Caleb stay for a Q&A in which the playwright says the client in the play was “based on” (not “inspired by”). (Actually this happens after my second bullet but meh)

Then there’s a white woman who goes on a rant that feels too ridiculous to be true but apparently it’s lifted almost verbatim from an actual incident that happened at a Slave Play Q&A (I am not New York enough to have gotten the reference without the internet’s help). 

Monica is back! Yay Monica! Nikki just needs to show up on Evil next season and she’ll have been on every Kings show. 

Blah blah 618 blah blah. I don’t dislike this arc but I don’t have much to say about it. Like, I get it, corporations are powerful and the law is fake and this is a way of commenting on the insanity of the world while backing away from the politics. But other than saying that and enjoying the twists and turns… I don’t have anything to add.

Man, I miss character based drama. That’s not a criticism of the show, but this recap format is way less interesting (to write, and probably to read) when I don’t have anything to sink my teeth into.

Adrian doesn’t want to settle because now Adrian is mad. The client gets what he wants and Adrian insists they keep going. I mean, if the episode stopped now it would be a reasonable, even short, episode, and we’ve got fifty seven whole minutes to fill..

Liz is also on board to prolong the case. Lucca, who actually has perspective, tells Adrian he’s not acting in the client’s best interest. Adrian denies it. LOL, sure. 

At this exact moment Lucca receives (and looks at) a text from Bianca, who is still pursuing her. Tempting.

Liz asks Marissa if she’s heard of Cocksucker in Chains. She has, and she is getting a “gang” together to go see it, because of course she is.

David Lee enjoys the play. Diane and Kurt, less so. Julius and his wife do not like it at all. Also apparently we HAD seen Julius’s wife before and I somehow FORGOT?????

Play!Julius monologuing about justice makes Real!Julius reevaluate his decisions. 

Then we get into this weird Diane and Kurt sex plot that is kind of about the idea of problematic kinks (like getting off on watching a fake version of your white wife whip a black man) but is mostly just an excuse for fanservice in the form of Christine Baranski in sexy get-ups. She’s got an amazing figure, but does that alone justify this subplot? (I say no.)

(Also I’d be way more invested in a plotline about McHart’s sex life if it didn’t begin and conclude in the back half of a single episode. It’s sparked by the play-- not any ongoing issues-- and concludes in a cute way so to me it is… nothing.)

Marissa goes undercover as a playwright. Everyone in the group dislikes the writer of Cocksucker in Chains… a lot. They hand over the drafts easily.

Liz and Caleb spend a late night reading smut said by fake Liz in an early draft script to each other. Over it already. I was never a fan of boss/employee plots, and in this era, with this character who has SO MUCH potential but never really gets plotlines of her own, I have zero patience for this bullshit. Liz deserves better.

What really confuses me is that somehow Liz/Caleb is supposed to be about… investigating what interracial relationships are like???? If they’re so insistent on showing this can’t they… do something other than this? Random stranger at a bar?

I do not like this thing that is happening to Liz where whenever she gets a plot of her own it’s about fucking someone she shouldn’t be fucking. I haven’t forgotten what the writers did to Geneva Pine in late season seven for LITERALLY NO REASON. 

Liz would not flirt with an employee. Like, just stop. Liz has spent the last year coming to terms with her father being a serial assailant and we are going to deal with that by… having her make eyes at Caleb? That is not interesting or complicated.

And, tbh, it’s especially insulting to Liz when none of this feels motivated in character and ALL of it feels motivated in “we need a sexy forbidden romance so we can explore themes.” Get this plot away from Liz. 

This episode is too long, in case I haven’t already said that enough times.

And now the scene in which Bryan Kneef, the latest Rebel Dude Lawyer, says the word “ass” many times. I repeat: this episode is too long. 

Mr. Firth talks to Diane about pursuing 618. I don’t understand Mr. Firth’s deal. Why does he let Diane continue? Is he just a person who happens to be powerful who is actually trying to do a fair job and be understanding? This show just doesn’t have characters like that so you see why I am skeptical.

Again with the window washers. Of all the symbols of the problems with office life, this one?! (It plays especially poorly right now-- I wish that my biggest problem with my workspace was that there are people cleaning the windows to make my view nicer and not, you know, that my current workspace is my bedroom.) 

Firth goes to see Lucca next. Lucca says she doesn’t like her new standing desk. Wait. They got desks that are standing ONLY without consulting the employees? 

This scene is succeeding in making me miss the standing desk that I’ve only ever used as a standing desk, like, twice. 

No one on this show has a monitor at their desk. I wonder if that’s true to life for law firms. 

Now Bianca has found a way to make it part of Lucca’s JOB to come hang out at the beach and this is making me uncomfortable. Firth tells Lucca to go, even though Lucca shares her concern that Bianca just wants a friend. Firth somehow has a similar story to share and tells Lucca “the rich are not like us.” K. Sure. Maybe we can get away with calling Lucca well-off instead of rich but Firth? Rich. Maybe not ultra wealthy but dude is rich. 

SERIOUSLY what is with the window washers?

Enjoy this scene of Diane the dominatrix, fans. It’s here for you. 

(I don’t mean that snarkily against fans. I mean that snarkily against the show.)

The stock footage clip with the moon over Chicago is one of the more interesting stock footage clips I’ve seen the show use (plus it actually looks like the neighborhood Diane would live in!)

Oh I am just so thrilled that at the 44 minute mark, we are starting to do a series of unnecessary scenes in which the characters converse with their actor counterparts. What a good use of time.

And the sad thing is that I should like this device… but I don’t. None of this is actually building up the characters for me? How invested can I be in Diane and Kurt’s sex life problems when I’ve known about them for less than half of the episode? How interested can I be in deconstructing 

And I don’t need a scene of Julius debating if he should be honest or not, because the scene of him watching the play was enough to make me understand he’s having doubts about complying with 618.

And you know what I REALLY, TRULY, DO NOT NEED? ALL OF THIS ATROCIOUS LIZ/CALEB PLOT. 

Why is Play Liz so horny? What about Real Liz made the playwright write Liz to be like this? And if it’s not accurate, why is it getting under Liz’s skin like this? I get the Diane one because it was a turn-on and it makes Diane wonder about dominating (outside of the bedroom, too). I get the Adrian one because I mean holy shit that’s a big claim to make. And I get the Julius one because Julius loves to be the voice of reason/hear his own voice and feels like a hypocrite. But Liz? What the fuck is this nonsense?

Liz saying “I’m his boss” and talking about HR does not excuse the fact that we are pretending a boss/employee romance is a good plotline in 2020. And I’m so confused about why THIS is the way they are choosing to explore an interracial relationship.

I have watched TV shows before so obviously as soon as I saw Liz get on the elevator, I knew from the fact that we were watching her leave… she wasn’t going to leave. She was going to go and fuck her employee. Great writing guys. 

This also managed to remind me of all my anger at the Red Team Blue Team Willicia kiss (they previewed it as a sneak peak and I was excited that it it didn’t end with them kissing because that’s so cliche… then I watched the episode and I’m still furious about it in season four of the spinoff.) so thanks for that too, writers. 

Why is Fake Liz’s stupid song so goddamn long? 

“Oh God help me,” Liz says as she knowingly goes to make an incredibly stupid decision I have NOT A SINGLE REASON to believe she would make. But this is The Good Fight, and on The Good Fight we care about plot more than characters. 

(Oh. I am in a bad mood.) 

The client wants out of the suit because… I mean, duh? He got what he wanted and this should have stopped at like the 20 minute mark?

If I never had to see another one of these “boss and employee awkwardly talk in the office about how it’s nbd they fucked last night” scenes again I would be OVER THE MOON. I watched all of Willicia and I will rewatch all of Willicia, is that not enough?! 

I do like Caleb so far, but man, that just makes this worse! I like Caleb and I like Liz and maybe I could even like them together but I am so furious they’re doing the boss/employee thing it just makes me sad to see this happen to characters I like. 

Diane is now circling the word “ass” in transcripts of the deposition, but the suit’s been dropped because the suit was settled for 1.8 million. (I am sure that’s a lot to the victim and absolutely nothing to the corporation.) 

Also Kovac brings Diane a bird because WE LOVE WACKINESS ON THE GOOD FIGHT. 

And now for a scene in which a mysterious visitor gives Kurt a warning to stop Diane from pursuing something dangerous. I thought we were done with this. This shit is what I hated about the Book Club arc in season three: the stakes got too high for me to take it seriously. They run the risk of doing the same with Memo 618. Keep it small scale. 

Kurt tells Diane about his visitor, and Kurt and Diane both recognize that this is similar to what happened last year, so at least there’s continuity. 

Diane says this isn’t about politics. I mean. Not overtly. But that’s the point. This whole arc is a thinly veiled way of exploring how the legal system breaks down when there’s no enforcement, and lack of enforcement is tied to politics, so… is this really as apolitical as Diane wants it to seem? Certainly it’s less political than Book Club but I don’t think a radical group should be the benchmark.

Diane promises she’ll drop 618, then gets an idea to spice up her sex life by modifying her dominatrix costume into a sexy cowgirl costume. (Diane is not going to drop 618. This is episode 4.)

Did Diane just grab a gun from the bathroom? Why are there guns in the bathroom? I guess it makes sense if she was planning this.

Oh and that’s the end of the episode!!! I DID IT!!!! I MADE IT THROUGH HIS EPISODE A SECOND TIME!

The big forum interview with My Chemical Romance [2005]

Reporters: Imre (poison amy) and Lisette (Lica) Band members: Frank, Bob and Mikey Place: The Melkweg (Milkyway), Amsterdam, the Netherlands Date: Wednesday August 31st, 2005, 3.30pm After a lot of stress and the prospect that the interview might be cancelled, it was finally time to go upstairs and meet the band. Two hours later than scheduled, but hey, they were there so we’re not complaining! Our palms were sweaty and our hearts were racing, but we managed to remain calm and behave like proper journalists instead of squealing fangirls.

LINK or keep reading below

Of course the first thing we asked after introducing ourselves was if they knew and had ever been on the forum.

Frank: I’ve been shown it by friends, but we’re not really able to go online when we’re touring, unfortunately.

Lisette: Ok, what we did was we invited all the users on the forum to post questions they had for you guys and we will ask the best of those today.

F: Oh man, that’s really cool!

L: We brought a book with us with all the questions.

F: You did? *takes book from Imre* Geez! 

L: If you’re bored on the tourbus you’ll have something to read.

F: I can’t believe how big this is! Alright, cool. I’ll tell you what, in addition to your questions, we’ll just like flip through this and do two more.

Imre: Great idea! I have just one question before we start off with the list: did you guys have an official messageboard?

F: We did! We used to have an official messageboard on our site, but it got to the point where it wasn’t really a community, it was more like people talking down to other people that were coming later… It was hard to police it and you know, to take down certain things that maybe were offensive to other people and it just got to this point where we said; if they’re not gonna treat it as just a forum for everybody to be accepted and everybody to be a fan of music in general, than we don’t wanna have it.

I: We don’t accept everybody, we have an age restriction of 15.

F: Gotcha.

L: There are some really sensitive issues also on the board and we don’t want teenies to be influenced by other people who maybe do it…

F: I understand. I mean, it’s hard to keep some people out and you know it’s a fulltime job, it really is.

I & L: We know!

F: And for us it’s too much, we can’t really…

I: Yeah. We have a team of seven moderators who help us out.

F: Oh wow. Well thank you very much, you’re doing a great job! L: Let’s start with our list! We’re already talking about messageboards so lets continue on that. Some people sometimes claim to be one of you when they are on forums or other websites, what do you think of that?

F: I don’t understand it really, to me it’s kind of like that game the Sims, they’re spending so much time leading this fake life while they could be doing their own thing, and if your dream is to be in a band you should go out and practise instead of playing a video game or pretend you’re somebody else. It gets really creepy when those people do that and put out pictures of you and say a loved one or your dog. When they do that and then talk to other people on your behalf, that really angers me because we don’t know what they’re saying to other people and they might give advise and others might believe it. Internet can be a great thing, but it can also be a really evil thing.

I: We have a rule against talking about your private life.

F: Thank you. I appreciate that.

Mikey: That’s a big problem with MySpace, because some of my friends actually are on MySpace and they get messages, I don’t know how they knew that my friends are on there, but these are people that aren’t even in bands and they would get messages from ‘me’ on MySpace. It’s really weird.

I: They know everything. Trust me.

Bob: That’s ridiculous.

F: I’m still a huge fan of music, but when I was a fan of a band I would never ever be that intrusive. You know what I mean, to go as far as walk on someone’s bus and sit down and go through someone’s things, or try to steal something…

I: There was one girl last week, she was at one of the shows in London and she was proud that she ripped something off your arm!

F: [sad tone] Yeah, yeah…

I: She was bragging about it all over the internet.

F: I know…

L: How do you feel about these things?

F: You know, it’s weird. *thinks* I don’t know how I feel about that. I definitely know that when I was at shows I would bring a souvenir home, but it wasn’t someone’s personal property, it was a flyer or something like that. It’s weird if you wanna go into the crowd thinking ‘am I gonna come out with everything?’

L: Are you nervous when you see a large crowd? Are you worried then?

F: No! Well, no, I mean, it depends. There’s a bunch of different type of fans. You know, there’s people who just wanna say I love you, love your show, and that’s awesome. They respect the music and the art form. And then there’s some people that need to have that souvenir, that need a signature or a picture and there’s some that just scream and try to pull your hair out and that’s ridiculous and then there’s the drunk fan that wants to be the one that punched you. Unfortunately for the people that just wanna say hi or the people that just want an autograph, sometimes they get flooded because the bad apples are so loud or with so many. It sucks to make people wait outside for hours before you leave because I don’t wanna weed out the bullshit, you know what I mean, the teenie ‘oh wow the new N’Sync is an actual band’ you know that’s a terrible thing, but you try to do more good than bad. L: How was it for you Bob, when you joined the band they were already on their way to become very successful, how was it for you to step into a band that was already on their way?

Bob: When I first started it wasn’t really sure that… Well, I don’t think anybody thought that it was gonna be this successful. When I first started it was still in the van, playing shows for like a hundred people. It wasn’t like this when I first started. As far as the kids being crazy, obviously they *nods towards Frank and Mikey* get it a lot more, but it’s just strange for me.

L: Well, you’re completely accepted on the forum, everybody loves Bob, they have it in their signatures. *grins*

F: How could you not love Bob?!

I: When you started out, did you ever imagine being nominated for 4 VMA’s against Green Day?

F: No, not at all!

I: How crazy is that?!

F: Pfff! It’s flattering.

M: It was a great experience. The whole thing.

F: I’m still reeling from it. I’m really glad it’s over.

I: Were you nervous?

F: Oh god, yeah. I definitely threw up before.

M: You can see me biting my nails on camera. Every time they were showing Jamie Fox you can see me right behind him biting my nails a lot. I was really freaked out.

F: It’s one of those things where.. Growing up I didn’t get to watch them all the time, but I saw bands like Nirvana play it and Guns’n’Roses. So just to be there and think of all the things that happened on that show and to actually play it, it was ridiculous.

I: Because of the MTV awards you had to do the two festivals in England on the same day, how was that? Were you nervous doing those shows?

B: It was tiring really.

F: It was very tiring, yeah. And again, we kept like thinking of people that played it before. You know what I mean. I’m definitely keeping the two passes and I’m gonna frame them. It was rad. To do Reading and Leeds and especially on the same day, it was crazy!

B: We were supposed to fly to Leeds and we couldn’t get on a bus and go to Reading, because we wouldn’t have enough time to set up, so we were supposed to take three helicopters and I was so psyched about that! I was so excited! It would have been so awesome to fly on a helicopter! But then something happened with the weather at Reading and they wouldn’t let the helicopters get that close to so many people, so we just took a plane.

L: So the helicopter experience still has to take place.

B: Yeah. We’re gonna do it one of these days. I don’t care, even if it’s on a day off, we’re taking a helicopter ride!

L: Are you a thrill seeker?

B: I … *thinks* Kind of. I guess so.

F: As long as it’s got something to do with helicopters or motorcycles or black vans, that kind of stuff.

I: You wouldn’t go horseriding on the beach.

F: *laughs* I don’t think he’s that horseriding-on-the-beach type of guy.

B: No. I wanna go skydiving one of these days.

F: I’m not!!!

I: Why not?

F: If you’d asked me a couple of years ago to do it, I’d go ‘yeah, fuck it!’ but now I’m just too happy. You know what I mean?

I: You don’t need that.

F: Yeah! I don’t need to do that. Then suddenly Bob exclaims: What is wrong with these people?! *reads from book* What would happen if you saw Mikey walk into the bathroom with another toaster? Signed: Bob Bryar’s official bitch.

M: It wasn’t a toaster, it was a heater. I was putting a space heater in the bathroom when I was sick or something. I brought this heater into the shower so it was warm when I got out. It’s not the smartest thing in the world to do, but I was like ‘whatever, I’m fucking freezing’, but apparently they turned it into a toaster..

L: But you were fine.

M: Yeah, I’m here right now.

*all laugh* L: For the video from The Ghost of You, you guys have your hair really smooth. We understand how you get your hair like that, but we were wondering how did they get Ray’s hair totally smooth? How much stuff did they put in there?

F: You’ll see it on the making of the video, he has like these two little buns.

B: Did they flat iron his hair too?

F: They did something. It was all flattened out. It was all bundled together in this little fist of a bulb, so they could only shoot him from the front and part of the side. It was crazy. He was gonna cut his hair and we were all like ‘no don’t do that!!’.

I: Did he ever tried to hide objects in his hair? To smuggle them inside?

F: Hide objects in it? He might.

B: *thinks* I don’t think so.

*All giggle* I: Another question they asked is: if your tourbus driver got ill, who would you trust to drive it?

F: Bob.

I: Yeah? Why?

F: Cos he’s done it before.

B: It happens a lot when you have to move a bus. When I used to tour with other bands, our drivers would just be like ‘hey, you wanna drive?’ and then I’d drive for like 1000 miles.

L: It’s cool to drive something that big, isn’t it.

B: Yeah, I like to drive and being on tour you never get to drive anywhere. If you’re not in a bus you’re in a cab or if you’re not in a cab you have somebody else driving you, so you know I take every opportunity I get to drive. L: If you could describe your life so far in 5 words, what words would you choose?

M: Tiring, wonderful…

F: Surprising, uhm, definitely tiring…

B: Red Bull.

I: Hey, that’s two words!

B: Oh sorry! *laughs*

F: Coffee.

B: There you go, coffee. Fun!

(All at the same time): Proud.

F: Prun! *grins*

M: Yeah.

B: How about proud-fun?

I: We’ll make that a new forum-word!

B: Prun. I: Have you ever read any of the fanfictions people write about you? *guys laugh*

M: My friends sent me one once. It was creepy! My friends are interested in all that stuff, so they all sit online and send it to each other and laugh. And then one of them emailed one to me and it was something really fucking out of hand.

F: I heard Mikey’s hot for me.

I: The hottest couple is you and Gerard actually.

F: Oh really? We’re the hottest couple?

B: That’s amazing.

I: That’s actually one of the most active parts of the forum, the fanfiction section.

F: Wow! That’s crazy. My god… (kind of unsure) Well, if that’s what gets you hot, go for it. L: Do you have something with you when you go out on stage, like a lucky thing?

B: High fives.

F: Yeah we do, like high fives before we go on stage. I don’t think there’s any charm I have.. I think it changes like I’ll have something for a time that I feel is lucky, but then it’ll probably break or something and you get something new… Like these shoes *everyone looks at Frank’s feet* are lucky I think. None of it’s really lucky at all of course. *thinks* I have these dogtags that I wear a lot, but I can’t wear them on stage because it hurts my neck.

I: Yeah and someone might steal them!

F: Yeah that’s it, but I wear them all the time, except when I’m playing.

L: Yeah, you go crazy on stage and sometimes you’re lying on the floor, how are you able to play like that?

F: You get used to it, like with anything. When we’re playing a new song, like right now we’re playing a new song. Well, not new new, but new for us because we haven’t played it in so long, so ah, we’ll play eh *looks at Bob* should we tell them? *Bob nods* Alright, we’re playing Jetset tonight and I’m not used to playing that song, so I’ll just stand there and make sure I hit every chord.

L: So you’re not going crazy.

F: *laughs* No, but you know what I mean like it’s hard because I get into it and I would do it, but at the same time if it’s so new I can’t. Once I’m comfortable with it I can do whatever I want.

I: Is there a favourite song when you play?

All: Prison!

F: Yeah, Prison is like a band favourite.

B: Yeah we like to play that. It’s become the song that when we need to play something for a soundcheck we pick that. I really like playing Jetset too though.

I: Why didn’t you put it in the set before?

F: We’ve never played certain songs, I mean like never ever played them. I think Jetset was one of those until we were like ‘yeah lets finally get this out’. We had about five songs to pick from for the headline tour, some older stuff that we haven’t played in a really long time and there’s this song called Cubicles that we’ve never played. I think you guys played it (to Mikey)…

M: Yeah we’ve played it on a couple of shows.

F: But I’ve never actually played it.

I: It must be nice to do a different set.

F: Yeah! You know it’s fun to be doing something that you haven’t played in a really long time because it puts a spin on things and it kind of challenges you. L: Most places have a very active local music scene, do you ever go to a band of the local music scene when you’re in a city?

F: I would love to if we had a second off, but we never do.

L: And back home in New Jersey, do you go there to local shows?

F: Yeah, if we’re home for a while and there’s a show going on, I’ll go see it. But it’s hard because we do this for a living and I mean we love what we do and we love music, but sometimes the last thing we wanna do is go to a show. It has to be a really good show, you know what I mean.

I: Yah, but it must also be part of your job to keep up to date about new bands.

F: Yeah, well we tour so much and we hear so many things from different people, I mean I found out about a lot of different bands from just kids. It kind of keeps you in your favourite scene, you know. And we get demos all the time.

I: A few weeks ago I interviewed the singer from HIM, Ville, and he told me he had been talking to you guys about maybe touring together.

F: That would be cool. Yeah. He’s a great guy. He’s really nice.

I: I know! *grins*

F: I think that would rule. To me, HIM are kind of like the European Bon Jovi. That’s what I get when I listen to them. Sadly the girl from the record company interrupted us by saying it was nearly time and we could ask one last question. Lica asked it.

L: About the second I’m Not Okay video; it starts off with Ray and Gerard sitting there and Gerard says: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna… What does he wanna do?

F: Ok, the original line was: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna rock! And we didn’t like it. If you keep an open end you can make it whatever you want it to be, you know. The rest of that, the whole opening scene, was written out. It was scripted and we were like ‘this isn’t really working’ so Ray actually re-wrote everything. Everything you hear in the video, other then ‘I just wanna’ is something that Ray wrote maybe ten minutes before we shot it! Then the girl from the record company came back inside to tell us we really needed to wrap it up and Frank practically begged her to do two more from the book, like he suggested when we started out. Bob flips through the book.

B: Bam! *points* All time favourite sad song?

M: the Smiths – Asleep. That’s the fucking saddest song ever.

B: That Jimmy Eat World song off of that show..

F: Angel song?

B: Yeah.

F: Oh yeah. Ah, geez, Angel Angel. Oh, right, ready?

*flips through book again*

F: When you guys stop and think about how you ended up where you are now, do you feel really lucky and jump for joy, or do you don’t give a damn at all? *laughs* I think we are the luckiest people in the whole fucking world.

B: We’re very proud of ourselves!

F: To be able to say that, you know, you’ve accomplished goals, that you set for yourself so long ago and this is awesome you know, like to be on tv or on the radio – fuck the radio and tv! To hear kids in different countries or different states sing along to songs that you wrote in your basement is the most surreal experience that you’ll ever have. And to have it mean something to people you never thought you would ever meet. That right there is the most amazing thing. We had a minute to go on a picture with them and say goodbye. 

Frank told us that he really appreciated what we are doing for the band and thanked us for everything by giving us both a very tight hug. As you can probably imagine, we high on adrenaline for the rest of the day. The guys were lovely and very happy to see that all of you had posted so many questions for them. Thank you forum members, and thanks My Chemical Romance for making this all happen!

Too Pretty

Calum Hood x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 4149 But worth the read

A/N: This is based of personal experiences, so I am not speaking about an issue that I do not understand. We have been taught to hate ourselves because self hatred is profitable, we are told we are not enough as we are so we try and change and in so many ways end up tearing ourselves down and the biggest act of rebellion is to love ourselves despite everyone who tells us we shouldn’t. 

I also feel like when Cal falls in love he doesn’t go half assed he is head over heals and that is why he is apprehensive about it. 

Summary: Cal wants to go swimming but the reader is nervous at everyone seeing her body, a man catcalls her and Cal gets protective and takes her home to prove how beautiful she it

Warnings: Talk of extreme body issues, catcalling/harassment, smut, smut smut, fluff, love, sex, angst, self depreciation

 You and Cal had been together for years, yet over all that time there was one thing that the two of you had yet to do, and that was to go swimming. He brought this up one afternoon as you two sat on the couch, you between his legs and his hands wrapped around your tummy, running his thumbs up and down your sides, over the rolls that grace your hips. No matter how often he touched you like this you couldn’t help but become insecure, because there was always a little voice in your head, a voice that told you Cal was with you because he pities you, one you tried to ignore. Cal brought you out of your thoughts, placing his lips on the shell of your ear. Calum spoke to you, in a soft voice, 

“Lets go swimming,” he mumbled into your hair, this took you off guard, shifting in his grasp so that you were facing him, looking in his eyes you cocked a brow,

“Why do you want to go swimming,”

“Well, my dear,” he leaned in and kissed your nose, “we have been together for, what, 3 years now and we have never been swimming together, now, why is that?”

“Um, I don’t know, we never got the chance?” you stated it like a question

“Now that simply isn’t true, when you come on tour with me I always suggest that we go swimming in the hotel pool and you always decline,”

“Well I had been missing you, maybe I just want to catch up with you, my love,” you spoke, punctuating your sentence by kissing him on the nose, his face scrunching up a little

“Every time?” he inquired

“Every time,” you confirmed 

In your head you knew the answer, and it wasn’t just because you had missed him, though you always did, but that wasn’t all of it. It was because you didn’t think that you could take going there with him, seeing all the girls that were so much smaller than you, the girls that fit the fucked up definition of beauty, the definition that excluded you, the ones that didn’t have the problem with the incessant rub of their thighs together, the ones you wished you looked like. You had never felt as though you deserved Calum, and though he knew you were insecure he didn’t know the extent of it, he didn’t know how much time you spent in front of a mirror poking and contorting, he didn’t know how uncomfortable you felt in your own skin and oh lord if he did.

“Let’s go swimming,” he interrupted your train of thought yet again

“Now?”

“Yes, now, come on get a move on,” he said while sliding you off his lap

“Cal,” you called after him as he started making his way out of the living room and into your guy’s bedroom, he turned around when you called, “I don’t have a swim suit,”

He furrowed his brows at your statement, “How do you not have a swimsuit, everyone has a swimsuit,”

“I don’t know, I just don’t I guess,”

“Well, lets go and change that, shall we?” you could tell by the smile on his face that you two were going swimming today, whether you liked it or not. Cal headed off and packed a bag for the two of you to go to the beach. Before you knew it, you and Cal were in the car driving to Target to buy you a new swimsuit.

“We are here m’lady,” he said when he parked the car in the Target parking lot, getting out and hurrying around to your side to open the door for you. As soon as you stepped out he laced his fingers between yours and headed off towards the entrance.  It was like he was on autopilot, taking the both of you immediately to the swimwear section. Your reaction to the options of swimwear was apprehensive to say the least, all suits would show the parts of you that you tried to hide, Cal didn’t notice your affect change, he was to busy looking through the choices and holding some up to you.

“You have got to try on this one,” he stated excitedly, gaining your attention and bringing you out of your haze of self loathing, he was holding up a two piece.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you hummed, faking actually contemplating it while the voice in your head yelling that you couldn’t possibly wear something like that, but there was also a voice telling you that you simply had to, and that voice was Calum.

“Okay…all right…fine, I will try it on, only because you want me too,” you snatched the material from his hands and walked over to the dressing rooms,  stripping down to try the swimsuit on you were confronted with your body, a thing you saw as your enemy, when all it was doing was holding  you up, and you were simply tearing it down. You slipped the suit on and looked in the mirror, you sucked in your tummy, appreciating that the suit was high waisted, it accentuated your curves, the top made your boobs spill out slightly, and your initial reaction was not the immediate revulsion you had expected, you kind of liked it, but the longer you stared the more the hate started to seep back into your thoughts. Until you were once again shook out of your haze by Calum, but this time he was knocking on the dressing room door,

“Hey babe, they didn’t have anymore good suits in your size so I guess you are getting this one,” he chuckled

“Oh…um, okay, give me a second,” you stripped from the suit and put your ordinary clothing back on, stepping out to see Cal leaning against a wall waiting for you.

“What, I don’t get a fashion show?” he asked

“It will be a surprise when we get to the beach,” he seemed satisfied with the answer and grabbed your hand again, leading you to check out.

You arrived at the beach in no time, the both of you heading towards the bathroom to change into your suits, you had a plan in mind, one that would make it so you wouldn’t have to show the entire population of the beach your body, simply come out of the bathroom wearing a towel and tell Cal you are cold and want to stay on land, okay maybe not the best plan but it was all you had. You stepped out of the dressing rooms a towel wrapped securely around your body immediately catching Cal’s eye as he waited for you.

“I was promised a fashion show, this doesn’t look like any show to me,” he stared at you

“I am just a bit cold,” you knew this wasn’t going to fly, it was like 98 degrees in LA

“Come on show me, I just want to see it, I bet you look gorgeous, also how could you be cold, it's boiling out,”

“Come on, lets go find a place to set up,” you said, completely ignoring his words

“Wait, Y/n,” he reached out to stop you, grabbing your towel, causing it to slip from your grasp and to the ground, a gasp escaped your lips and you turned to see Cal, mouth hanging open slightly, of course, it's not like he has never seen you naked, having been together for years,  the two of you spent many nights lost in each others bodies, but there was just something about him seeing you like this in public, surrounded by women you saw as much more beautiful than you, but all Cal saw was the very definition of beauty standing right in front of him.

His jaw dropped at the sight of you, and he was pretty damn sure he had never seen anything more beautiful than the person standing right in front of him, even if they did look like a deer in headlights.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned looking at you

“This is why I didn’t want to go swimming,”

“What, why?”

“Because I look terrible, and disgusting” your words sparked a little fire in his eyes, a fire he felt when he wanted to protect you from something, but most cases it was a rude journalist or paparazzi, never from the venom in your voice when you spoke about yourself, at least never before now.

“No you fucking don’t, you look gorgeous, like wow, and what do you mean ‘this is why you didn’t want to go swimming’” a blush spread across your cheeks as you looked at your feet

“Can we talk about this later?” he nodded his head, reaching out to grab your hand and pulling you into his chest, his arms around your waist, hands resting just above your butt as he had to mentally remind him self not to cop-a-feel in public. He leaned in and joined his lips with yours, you felt the passion in his lips and it made you want to stay like that forever, but to your dismay, he pulled away slightly, looking into your eyes.

“You look fucking stunning, love,” he grinned

“As do you kind sir,” You could tell he was about to retort but you beat him to it, pulling him towards the water, and before you knew it you were waist deep in the sea with the man of your dreams. Completely lost in the waves and his eyes as the two of you laughed and trying to dunk each other, forgetting that the two of you were surrounded by people, forgetting for a moment how uncomfortable you had previously been, that was until you heard someone yelling, and it seemed to be at you.

“Aye, honey, don’t worry, I like bigger girls,” a man yelled, you didn’t know how to react, a part of you deep inside, the one that had been told that harassment is flattery, became flustered and flattered, while the rest of your mind was disgusted, but used to it, but Cal wasn’t

“What the fuck did you just say?” he seethed, his nails digging into his palms and his teeth tightly clenched together, the squish in his cheeks was gone, every muscle in his body was tense, trying to hold himself back.

“Hey man, no harm, just appreciating the woman you got there,”

“No, you really weren’t,” Cal bit at the man “You were disrespecting her, thats what you were doing,”

“There is no need to freak out on me here, I don’t see what the problem is,”

“The problem is that you are making it seem like you deserve some kind of fucking award for ‘liking bigger women’ and you really don’t, because there is nothing special about it, and my girlfriend over there is fucking perfect, so what if she is curvy, she is gorgeous. Big and pretty aren’t mutually exclusive, and she is proof of that, so fuck you man, and if anyone in this relationship deserves an award, it’s her form putting up with my bullshit,” Cal  yelled before he turned to you, seeing that you had begun crying and he was torn between fighting the twat who catcalled you and comforting you, deciding to let Karma deal with the dickhead, Cal ran to your side, placing a finger under your chin and tilting it so you were looking at him, eyes flooded with worry as he wiped the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Can we go home, please?” you mumbled into his chest, trying your best to stop crying

“Yes, of course,” he said without hesitation, pulling you into his side wrapping an arm over your shoulder protectively.

The both of you entered the car and Cal pulled out of the parking lot in silence, that was until Cal spoke up,

“Babe,” you looked up at him, lifting your gaze from your lap

“Yea,”

“What did you mean earlier when you said that ‘this is why you didn’t want to go swimming’,” glancing at you and then back at the road

“Cal, can we talk when we get home, I want to talk to you face to face,”

“Sure,” he reached out a hand and placed it on your thigh, soothing the skin with his thumb while also attempting to soothe you,

You opened the door and headed up to your bedroom Cal following close instep.

“So?” he spoke trying to prompt the conversation he had tried to start in the car

“Cal, why are you with me?” you blurted out

“Wait, what?” his eyebrows shot up, as did he, from the seat he had taken on the bed, “What the fuck kind of question is that?” he asked

“Cal, you are you, a literal rockstar, a fit, tall, tan, gorgeous man that if he stopped playing music could be a model, why are you with me?”

“I don’t understand how you could ask that, Y/n,”

“Cause Cal, I am ugly, lets be fucking honest, someone who looks like you shouldn’t be with someone that looks like me,” tears started falling down your cheeks again.

“No, your wrong, you are so so wrong Y/n, because you are amazing, there is no one in the world like you,” you opened your mouth to say something but he beat you too it, “Y/n, I love you, more than anything else in the world, you are my future, I love everything about you, I love the way that your thighs jiggle when you walk, I love that your breast aren’t tiny, they are a big fucking handful, I love that you have stretch marks because it reminds me how much you have grown, they are nothing to be ashamed of, I have them. I love your tummy, it makes a great pillow, I love kissing my way down and up it. I love you Y/n, and nothing is going to change that, nothing, so if you really do think that someone who looks like you shouldn’t be with me you are wrong, you don’t get to decide that I should be disgusted by you, I don’t get to decide who I am attracted to but thank god I was attracted to the most beautiful person in the world, and that they were attracted to me,” at this point you were full on crying, no one had ever said anything like that to you before,

“Your body is gorgeous, and so are you, that guy at the beach was a dickhead who I really really wanted to punch, and barely resisted doing so. He seemed so confident in the fact that what he was say ing was a compliment when really it wasn’t, I also didn’t like him talking about you like that, you’re mine”

“Cal, I am yours, every inch, I love you so much,”

“Y/n, why did you never tell me that you struggled so much with your self image?”

“Cause Cal, I was embarrassed and thought you might see me as damaged and weak and that is the last thing I want, I want you to see me as strong,”

“I do see you as strong, you are amazing, now can you do me a favor and let me show you just how amazing you are?” you nodded your head slightly and Cal leaned in and attached his lips to yours, working them together as he licked at your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you happily granted. Calum kissed like no one else you had ever met, you felt it through your whole body, from your toes to the hairs on the back of your neck, and especially your core. His tongue moved leisurely around your mouth wrestling slightly with yours. His hands wandered from your sides, slipping under your swim suit top, groaning into your mouth at the feeling of your hard nipples against his palms, massaging your breasts slightly. One hand stayed on your breast while the other slid its way down your back grasping your ass pulling you close to him so your hips were flush, you felt his hard on through his trunks. His hand left your breast, going down to meet his other at your ass,

“I had to remind myself so many times today that I cant feel you up in public, much to my dismay,” he murmured into your mouth, hands massaging your ass “God, I love your ass, it's so fucking cute, I also love that I can do this,” he gripped your ass tight as he lifted you up, you instinctively wrapped you legs around his body, as he turned and walked to the bed, setting you down on it, you sat back up slightly, propped up by your elbows at your sides, you were soon pushed back down onto the bed, Cal crawling over top of you, part between your thighs part resting on them, he ground his hips into you as he kissed you with more passion than you think you have ever felt before. Your core getting wetter my the second, you arched your back into his chest as his hips dug into you, he took this as an opportunity to slip a hand underneath your back, pulling the string of your swimsuit  tell it came undone, your breast beginning to slip from under the material at the sudden lack of support, his lips left yours and attached themselves to the underside of your breasts, sucking contently at the soft skin that only ever comes in contact with your bra, leaving a mark on your still salty skin, he leaned back to admire the new red mark that was on the sensitive flesh,

“I can’t believe your all mine, how the fuck did I get so lucky,” he moved the cups of your top aside, fully exposing your chest to his hungry eyes, he leaned forward, attaching his lips to your nipple while one hand slid down your tummy, holding the flesh, lightly tracing patterns across your stretch marks,

“Their like lightening bolts, and tiger stripes, you are fearsome, my love,” he spoke, still flicking your nipple with his tongue, teeth gently nipping at it, arching your back into him again, his lower hand slid into the front of your swim bottoms, rubbing slightly over your folds, not quite coming in contact with your clit yet. His mouth left your breast and he started kissing his way down your torso, sucking marks as he went, soothing them with his tongue afterwards. He soon reached the hem of your swim bottoms but made not move to remove them, simply kissing his way down your thigh to your knee,

“I love your thighs, how strong they are, how they wrap around my head and bury my face deeper in your pussy,”  you blushed, covering your face with your hands, “Nu-uh pretty girl, I wanna see your face as I do this,” without further warning he dragged his tongue up your other thigh, grabbing the crotch of your swim bottoms with his teeth, pulling them down your legs, until you were in front of him, totally bare, you gasped at the cool air on you're burning centre, he kissed his way back up your leg until he reached his destination,

“Such a pretty pussy, so wet you’re practically dripping,”

“Only for you, Cal,” he grinned as he dragged his finger between your folds, collecting your wetness before pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, rubbing soft circles on the bundle of nerves, small gasps left your lips, egging him on. He leaned his face in, replacing his thumb with his tongue, moving his hand down and sliding his fingers into your heat, pumping them in and out, reaching the spot deep inside that he knew you loved. Your hands flew down to his hair, tugging as his tongue flicked beneath your hood,

“Cal, oh god, Cal, I am so close, fuck fuck fuck,” you screamed you belly tightening, he reached up a hand and grabbed one of your breasts, rolling the nipple between his pointer finger and thumb.

“Cum for me pretty girl, show me how good I made you feel,” the vibrations of his gravelly voice sending you falling over the edge, hands desperately gripping at his short hair,

“Fuck Cal, so good, feels so fucking good, fuck,” your back arched as your toes curled, hips bucking slightly into his face as he rode your through your high.

Once you had come back down to earth you felt him kissing his way up your body again, reaching your lips in a heated kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I love you Cal, so much, so fucking much,” you spoke into his lips

“Not as much as I love you,” you dragged your nails down his tan skin, slipping your hand into the front of his trunks, stroking him gently, a groan leaving his lips as he struggle to keep himself from collapsing on top of you at the pleasure.

“Y/n, you gotta stop, I wanna cum inside you,”  he whimpered, he removed himself from his place on top of you, quickly sliding his trunks down his legs. The lack of restraint causing his dick to slap up against his stomach, just as he was about to get back on the bed he looked at you and froze, you looked amazing, he couldn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky,

“Cal, what are you staring at?” you spoke making moves to cover up your body from his sight, but he caught them,

“There will be no hiding while I am here, pretty girl, I wanna see all of you, cause if you are anything, it is too pretty”

He got back on the bed, leaning down and connecting his swollen lips with yours in a heated kiss, you reached your hand down between you, grabbing his cock and running it through your folds, collecting your arousal, before lining him up at your entrance.

“Ready?”

“For you, usually,” you grinned at him above you, he slipped into your heat, filling you to the hilt, gasping at the sudden fullness, he paused waiting for you to adjust. You nodded slightly and he started dragging in and out of you slowly, making you feel every bit of him as he did, picking up speed he did something unexpected, flipping it so you were on top.

You made a move to get off but he grabbed your hips, before he was unsheathed from you,

“Where do you think you’re going, baby-girl?”

“Cal, I can’t ride you, I will crush you,”

“With an orgasm, maybe, with your weight, not a fucking chance,” he smirked at you with ernest eyes “Please?” he pleaded

“I am going to need some help getting going,” you agreed

“On it,” he gripped your hips, assisting in your rotation and grinding against him, before lifting you slightly and helping you begin to bounce on his cock

“Baby girl, you look so fucking perfect like this,” he looked down at the place the two of you connected and felt himself nearing the edge quickly,

“You gonna cum for me baby, you gonna cum?” he questioned as his hands left your hips seeing as you had gained enough momentum, one hand grabbed one of you're bouncing tits and the slid between you, reaching your clit and rubbing harshly,

“Yes, Cal, I am gonna cum, oh god,” you clenched around him, releasing your juices, sending him over the edge before he knew it. Bucking his hips into yours carrying the both of you through your orgasms. Once you came down, you curled into his sweaty chest,

“Y/n?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled sleepily

“If you are ever feeling that way again, please tell me, okay?”

“Cal, there is always a part of me telling me that I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, feeling him tense behind you, he rolled you over,

“Well, then know this, I would be lost without you, you are my world, to me, you put the stars in the sky, you raised the mountains, I love you more than life itself and you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, if someone doesn’t deserve someone in this relationship, its me not deserving you, okay?”

“Cal, you are all those things to me, and so so much more, I love you,”

“One day I am going to make you see just how fucking stunning you are, love,”

“I don’t think anyone else could,” you smiled, leaning up for a kiss which he happily returned. He pulled away suddenly

“Side note, you should ride me more often, your tits look amazing when you do,” giggling at his bluntness you faded off to sleep

Tags

@heartbreak-5sos @booklove-2 @harrysgucciclothes ​ @katiejatiebatie

Pictures of Spiderman

Lee Felix x Reader

Word Count ~ 5.5k

Summary: Felix has something to confess and you already know.

Tags: Felix is Spiderman, that’s pretty much it, fluff, confessions, trip through vaguely described tourist cities at night

It starts with just a moment. A small snippet of time. A snapshot.

You have your camera hanging around your neck when he flies by. A flash of red and blue. Eye-catching. He wants to make sure that those that he chases know he is after them and that everyone else who's watching becomes alarmed right away. He wants to be seen. And you see him. You take your camera out as a reflex. A second. A snippet of time. A snapshot. And suddenly you have one of the very first pictures of Spiderman. Looking back on it you could have probably sold that picture for quite some money instead of posting it onto your twitter for the whole world to see and for some journalist to steal it and credit it as source: internet. The next day the papers were full of it. Not just the pictures, there was plenty more than just the one that you took. Almost all of them blurry, the figure flying through the air almost not human looking. There were headlines as well. Young boys selling newspapers shouting them through the street when you made your way to school. Most of them sensational. Chasing after the newest event and trying to get ahead of the game. Being the first to publish the information they didn't even have. New Superhero? one of them read or The friendly Neighbourhood Spider? another one announced. The most factual one you read was probably Unknown individual in spider costume prevents bank robbery and captures criminal. It started with a moment but it soon became more.

Whenever something happened he was there. There in an instant and gone in a flash. A flurry of sirens in blue and red. A cacophony of screams and cheers as unassuming pedestrians watch him swing by over their heads, quickly flashing a peace sign to greet before he is gone again. He moves fast. Climbs up walls as if it's nothing, swings from building to building like he is Tarzan in the urban jungle. He's there before the police can even react and he leaves the bad guys behind and tied up nicely for them to take back to the station with them. He doesn't wait up for them to get there. He's gone before anyone can get a chance to ask where he came from or who he is. He just shows up, helps and disappears again.

Naturally, pictures of Spiderman were in huge demand. Angry head editors at newspaper publishing companies slamming their fists on their tables and demand for their reporters to get some good pictures when they can’t really. Because even their high definition cameras only ever manage to capture blurry pictures of a figure in motion gliding through the air. Shaky videos recorded on smartphones are being broadcasted on the news. Lucky snapshots of curious onlookers with cameras can be sold for big money. And you watch it all happen. With your camera dangling around your neck. You manage to capture a few more moments. Some of the pictures are decent. Blurry but at least you can make him out. Some are just a blur of colour and action. You never sell any of them. Not even those that could be sold. But you post them occasionally. Kind of a small personal documentary of all the snippets that you have managed to gather. You don't want to sell them. They are just for you and the small online following you have built up. After you posted the first image your twitter following almost tripled in size within a matter of minutes. Most of them didn't stay when they found that you also regularly post pictures of your food or rants about the annoying neighbours that drill holes in the wall at seven am on a Saturday. You don't really care about that though. You don't post the pictures for fame or anything like that. You post them as reminders. Part of a scrapbook style diary that you share with the whole world. Snippets. Snapshots. Today I saw him again. Moments. Memories.

For a while everyone was obsessed with figuring out. Who's the man behind the mask? the gossip magazines questioned. Every celebrity tried getting him on their talk show, every radio host wanted an interview. It never happened and eventually, they moved on. Found some new sensation to talk about. The big news headline became something that could be pushed on the second page. Police thank local superhero for continued help. He just became a normal part of everyday life. People stopped turning their heads when he swung by. Kids wave at him, girls crush on him, people still talk. But there is not much more to say. They've turned their heads away to focus on the next hot thing. But you are still looking. You see him.

                                                              ...

"Okay everyone, gather around", your teacher announces. You just got off the bus and she is already sounding stressed. The group of twenty students are gathered in the middle of the historic marketplace of the tourist town. Vendors are loudly offering their products at every corner. People are walking around with big cameras, only looking through the lens and not really paying attention to anything that is around them. Children are screaming, whining to their parents about how they are bored and how their feet hurt from walking all day. Confused tourists that hold their map upside down try to ask locals for directions with their broken understanding of the language. You pick up your camera and snap a couple of pictures for the school newspaper. Still frames to capture moments of the one week trip that can be displayed on the school's website once you are back. Your teacher talking manners into the group and reminding them to take care of their belonging and not walk off the big streets. Snap. A few of your classmates staring right into your camera, posing and flashing peace signs. Snap. A swarm of pigeons taking apart the ice cream cone a child dropped earlier. Snap.

You look up from your camera to find Lee Felix standing right in front of you. He's smiling at you and he's all cute dork from head to toe. Sunkissed skin and freckled perfection. Beach blonde hair on the friendly guy next door you run into at the library every other day. The backpack he has slung over one shoulder clearly says boy on a school trip and his clothes scream lost tourist ready to explore the city.

"So we've got an hour to walk around by ourselves, do you want to explore the city with me?", he asks. You look around to find everyone else gathering up in small groups and you are sure that there is a rule that you need a minimum of three people together. But the teacher isn't looking in your direction right now. So you grab the hand Felix is extending for you and drag him off into the direction of one of the small streets that your teacher warned you about.

"Lets go", you declare. And off you are before anyone can tell you to take along a third person or to stay away from the shady parts of town.

You follow Felix through cobblestone paved streets lined with souvenir shops and small bakeries. You snap pictures of small metal sings hanging above the doors with their old fashioned bells that announce every visitor that steps foot into the cosy stores with the crammed shelf and the tacky merchandise. Felix is walking ahead of you, nibbling on an ice cream cone he bought from a street vendor earlier. He offered to buy one for you as well but you turned the offer down because you'd need both of your hands to snap some pictures of the city while you are out exploring with him. But because Felix is stubborn on being nice to you he made you at least try some of his ice cream. Your lips naturally found the mould he had already molten into the creamy treat. A moment. An indirect kiss. A small blush dusting his cheeks while he watched you try some of his ice cream that he was still holding. The sugary taste of strawberry is still tingling on your lips and at this point, you probably have just as many pictures of Felix's back as of the tourist sights you two walk past without ever stopping to take a closer look. Because that's not what you are here for at all. You will spend enough of this week with walking from museum to historic park to memorial. Just for now you want to focus your attention on all the small details that your teacher wouldn't care about. The small streets you are supposed to stay away from, the graffiti on the walls, the scribbles on the walls under small bridges. The poetry is in the streets. And Lee Felix's back in front of you. You follow him out onto a more open space, maybe yet another small market place, but this one is less crowded. And from there he makes his way onto a bridge that leads over a trickling stream of mulled grey water. He stops and turns in the middle of it and lets you catch up with him.

"Hey, y/n, there is something important I have to tell you. I'm-"

"Spiderman?", you interrupt and finish his sentence for him.

"Wait, no!", he exclaims. But the answer comes just a little bit too soon to be just a surprised reaction. And then there is the almost panicked look with which he's looking around himself as if he's checking that no random pedestrian overheard your conversation. You shrug your shoulders.

"I mean, it's kind of obvious", you explain. Obvious to you at least. Because you've seen Spiderman. But you also see Lee Felix. It started with small observations. Felix being late to class the morning after Spiderman's first big appearance. A scratch on his face just a day after some huge Spiderman fight that made the news. Small coincidences that kept piling up. The way he always turns his head when one of your classmates as much as utters the word Spiderman. How the peace sign Spiderman does for the children that watch him swing by with adoration is just the same one that Felix throws up when you aim the lens of your camera on him. He's looking around awkwardly before he closes the remaining bit of distance between the two of you to whisper in your ear.

"Does anyone else know?", he asks. So apparently you did guess it right. Honestly, you were suspicious but not sure and you mostly said it to test his reaction. See if he would get flustered and deny it right away or laugh it off. You didn't expect him to just confess right away like that.

"I don't think so", you answer with a soft shrug. Felix moves away from you again with a loud sigh. He props his elbows up on the railing of the stone bridge you are standing on and lets his head fall back. His eyes are closed and the sunshine hits his face and gives his hair a golden shimmer. Almost unconsciously you grab your camera little tighter but before you could aim it at him Felix opens his eyes again. He blinks a couple of times, probably blinded by the sunlight before he looks at you again with a small pout.

"You're not going to tell anyone, right?"

You nod immediately. You are almost offended that he would even feel the need to ask. You may have only been friends with Felix for around a year now but he should know to trust you. Because you trust him.

"So you really are Spiderman, huh? How did that happen, did some crazy monster spider bite you back in Australia and you mutated into a superhuman or something?", you giggle. Felix puts a finger over his own lips to shush you before he looks around himself again. Almost paranoid. But there are only some lost tourists around minding their own business and trying to find their way back to the main roads. You are sure that most of them don't even speak the same language as you.

"Can you stop saying it?", he whines. You can't help but want to tease him a little when he's looking at you like that. All big brown puppy eyes and slights pout. You cock your head to the side and tap your chin with your index finger as if you are pondering something.

"Stop saying what? That you are Spiderman?", you ask back. Feigned innocence. Felix makes a sudden step forward and grabs your shoulders with one hand. This time he presses his finger to your lips instead. He rolls his eyes dramatically but then he giggles a little and you know that he isn't actually mad. If anything he almost looks relieved.

"You're the worst", he complains before he lets go of you again. And part of you wishes he didn't. Part of you wishes he would have used more than just a finger to make you shut up. You've both been dancing around the topic but you are pretty sure that the feeling is mutual. And yet it's too small to make either of you actually act on it for good. It's a collection of fragments. Moments. Snapshot. Twenty pictures of Felix in your camera roll. Indirect kisses and shared ice cream cones. Your hand brushing his while you walk through the small streets of a bustling tourist city. And if you piece it all together like a mosaic picture you maybe get something like affection. Felix rolls his eyes again but then he smiles at you. He leans forward again to whisper in your ear. Quiet words in the middle of a loud city. Half a second of just you two even though you are surrounded by people that pass by without paying you any attention. "If you want I can show you later. The suit and stuff."

"You have that with you?", you ask back in a breathy whisper that is half due to surprise and half because you are enjoying this little private moment. Felix shrugs.

"I didn't want to risk my parents finding it lying around in my room while I'm gone", he explains. He's leaning away from you again. His eyes wander off and you take a small glance at the time display on the screen of your camera. Only about ten minutes left until you have to be back and meet with the rest of the class. You have to make your decisions now.

"Can you sneak out? Don't the teachers usually keep an eye on the hallways?", you ask. Of course, you are curious about it. More than curious. You would like nothing more than to sneak out at night with Felix to share some secrets with him. But you also don't want to get him in trouble.

"I think you are forgetting who I am, I can just sneak out the window and climb the wall", he replies. The small smirk on his face is almost arrogant. It would look arrogant on anyone else. But you know Felix too well. You roll your eyes.

"Right, I almost forgot that you are Spiderman", you say. Felix softly punches your shoulder.

"Oh shut up", he complains. But he's smiling at you. And you are smiling back at him.

"Make me", you declare. And Felix fails to see it as the invitation that it is.

A knock on your window at almost one in the morning. The three other girls you are sharing a room with are already deep asleep and they don't even stir at the sound. But you move right away. You slide out of the bottom bunk and walk over to the window. Your first instinct is to look down but there is nothing below except for the distant glowing dots of the street lamps way down. You are on the fifth floor of the youth hostel and there is no way anyone could reach that window from down there. Then you look up and find Felix grinning at you. His face is upside down, blond hair hanging down. He's waving at you with one hand when you finally spot him. You open the window for him as quickly as you can. A cold gust of night air greats you and you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself. You are only dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt after all. You watch with fascination as Felix reaches up to grab the top of the window frame and then sort of does a roll backwards in midair until his feet land on your window sill. His other hand is connected to some kind of string that he rips off as soon as he has safely climbed into your room. You take a moment to get a good look of him.

He's really wearing the suit. You've never really seen a high quality enough picture of it to make out all the details. It's red and blue, black lines form something like a net above the red areas and there is a black spider right in the middle of his chest. It's tight. You can see the outline of every muscle on his body under the material. Without really thinking about it you reach out a hand to place it on his biceps. You thought the material would feel rubbery. Like a latex suit or something like that. But it's surprisingly rough. Like hair-thin metal wires spun together to create a stable fabric. You run your fingers along Felix's upper arm from his shoulder down to his elbow before you pull back again to look at his face. Maybe it's the light. And maybe there really is a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks and colouring them just as crimson as his costume.

"Do you want to go on a small night walk with me?", he whispers. Careful not to wake anyone else up. He takes a small look around the room to check if the other girls are really sleeping before he turns back to you. "I think it wouldn't be good if anyone saw me here."

"What's your escape plan?", you whisper back. Instead of replying Felix points out of the window again and then makes a couple of gestures that you can't really interpret. You raise an eyebrow to signal your confusion and he lets out a small sigh before he signals you to come closer.

"Do you trust me?", he asks. You nod immediately. It's not even a question to you. Felix nods as well. "Good, because we're going to jump out of this window together."

You hesitate for a second, but then you climb the window and sit down on the window sill with your legs hanging down the outside wall. The fall would be deadly. Felix gapes at you for a moment before he comes to sit down next to you. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you towards him.

"Hold on tight", he instructs and you wrap both of your arms around his neck ready to cling to him like a koala. He's chuckling slightly and you are close enough to feel the vibration of his laughter run through your own body like small tremors.

"Are you ready?", he whispers straight into your ear. Lips almost brushing your skin. You nod. Felix smiles. With his free hand, he takes the mask belonging to the costume out from some pocket you didn't even realise this suit had and pulls it over his face with a bit of struggle. You free one of your hands to help him get it in place. Once he is done he wiggles around a little. You can feel the arm he has wrapped around you tense as he is pulling you even tighter towards him. Then he presses his heels against the outside wall of the building and pushes the two of you off the window sill.

It's half a second of free fall and you are too startled to even scream. All you can do is gasp and cling to Felix for dear life. Then you hear a soft whirring sound right next to your ear and suddenly something slows down the fall. For a moment you feel a strong pull that shakes through your entire body as if someone threw a lasso around you and is now pulling you in their direction hard. But actually, it's the opposite. You are not the person being captured. You are the one with the lasso. Or at least you are holding onto him. Felix is holding onto a thin thread with his free hand and uses it to swing across the street right towards the wall of the building on the opposite side.

The landing is a little rough. Felix uses his feet to stop the impact but you still get shaken up a little and stumble to your feet on the street right below. But Felix is right there to wrap both arms around you and prevent you from falling.

"Sorry, not really used to passengers", he mutters. His voice sounds a little muffled through the mask. For a moment you just stand there and try to catch your breath. Your heart is racing, pumping adrenaline through your entire body. Every muscle is tensed up and the sirens in the back of your head are blaring to loudly remind you that you could have died just now. Then you burst out with a fit of laughter.

"That. Was. AWESOME!", you declare loudly. Maybe it's the rush of adrenaline speaking but you probably haven't felt that excited in ages. Felix is laughing as well.

"It's like flying, isn't it?", he asks and you nod excitedly. He still has both arms wrapped around you to keep you steady even though you have both feet on the ground now. Apparently, he just realised. He stops awkwardly and detaches himself from you but you let your arms linger around his neck for just a moment longer while you look up into his eyes with a small smile. You try to burn the image of this moment into your memory as best as you can. The soft yellow glow of the street lights frames Felix's head from behind like a halo and you wish you could see his face right now. Run your fingers through his bleached hair and watch the soft blush spread on his face that makes his freckles stand out even darker. But instead, you finally pull back your arms.

"Well, where are you taking me, Spiderman?"

With Felix's help you climb onto the flat roof of a nearby building. You glance over the edge to take in the sight of the city stretched out below you. There are endless small dots of lights, like a swarm of fireflies. The street lights look like stars from up here. But there is also still light in some windows. The bars and pubs that are still opened. The few people that are awake and working at night, the jet-lagged tourists in their hotel rooms that can't seem to find rest. Every little dot of light is something bigger. Part of a huge painting that you can only really make out once you are looking at it from the distance. Close up it's all just snippets. Moments. Pieces of the whole picture.

"What are you thinking about?", Felix's voice comes from behind you. You turn around again. Felix is sitting down on the roof, the mask pulled from his face again. His hair is standing up to all sides and he has his head tilted back and eyes closed as if he is basking in the pale moonlight.

"How nice the view is", you answer truthfully. Felix blinks open his eyes slowly.

"Yeah, it's really pretty", he says. But he isn't even looking past you to take one look at the amazing city down below. To him, that's probably a normal sight. He's used to the way the world looks from up here. You approach him slowly and stop right before him.

"So, what's behind the superpowers? A failed experiment? Some weird alien technology stuff? How does the suit work?"

Felix opens his eyes only to roll them at the questions you are throwing at him. Then he slowly raises one arm. He's holding it out while he squints one eye as if he is taking aim at something before he makes a snapping motion with his fingers. A small thread shoots out of his elbow and hits the ground next to you where it sticks to.

"I call it the spider thread", Felix explains while you curiously pull at the string. It's sticking to the ground and when you try to pull on it you find that it's actually a lot more stable than it looks. Despite how thin it is it's strong enough to carry the weight of a person swinging themselves through the air. Or maybe even two of them. "A lot of it is just tinkering. I had some help with the suit and everything. It's got a lot of cool functions but I don't even understand half of them to be honest."

"And you just one day decided to go use that and be a superhero?", you ask with a small chuckle. Felix shrugs his shoulders without saying anything. You sit down next to him and tilt your head back to get a look at the stars as well. They seem closer from up here. Even though you probably aren't even that high up. But the moon seems to be especially full tonight. It's so bright that you almost don't notice that it's night time. The light would be perfect to snap a couple of pictures. Collect a couple of memories. Capture some more moments for the big collage of feelings you have for Felix.

"Isn't it dangerous?", you ask him. You are referring to nothing in particular but you are sure that he understands that you are talking about more than just swinging himself from building to building while he is only hanging on a thin thread. Because it's not just that. It's the fighting. The capturing criminals and playing superhero part that has you worried about his safety.

"Maybe a little", Felix admits hesitantly. "But it's not like I'm fighting any huge threats to humanity. The most I ever do is stopping that asshole trying to rob the deli down the road. I'm no superhero. I'm just a civilian in a fancy suit trying to help out somehow."

"Aren't you also making yourself a target though? What if someone tries to go after you? Some crazy scientist that wants to strap you to their lab table and cut you open or whatever."

"You watch too many movies. Don't even try one of those cheesy lines about power and responsibility on me." Felix rolls his eyes and you huff and cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Maybe I'm worried about you", you say before you stick your tongue out at him. Felix rolls his eyes at you but then his expression becomes very serious. He's looking right into your eyes.

"I'll take care of myself", he says. You cock your head to the side before you reach out a hand to grab his.

"Is that a promise?", you ask. Felix nods without breaking eye contact once. His fingers intertwine with yours.

"I promise it."

"Good."

You nod as well. Then you pull back your hand a little only to stick out your pinky. He wraps his pinky around yours and you shake your hands around for a moment. You leave them connected like that. It's cold outside. In the middle of the night and you are standing on a rooftop. But the view of the city is beautiful, the moon and the stars are illuminating the world for you and Lee Felix is right in front of you.

"There was actually something else I wanted to tell you earlier", he mutters. You smile.

"Me too. I like you too", you say before he could even have a chance to confess. Because you know. You've known all this time.

"Damn, are you a mind reader or something? Maybe you really are the one with the superpowers. We should make a team, you'd be an awesome sidekick."

"Who said that I am the sidekick? Clearly, I am the hero here."

Felix laughs. Your fingers are still locked together in a pinky promise. His pinky twitches a little to squeeze yours a bit. It's a second. A heartbeat. A moment. Felix reaches up his free hand to place it on the side of your face.

"I really like you", he whispers. Another moment. A blink of an eye. Another small piece of the puzzle. The image is becoming clearer with every new piece that you add. You can almost see it now.

"I really like you too."

You head back about half an hour later. Felix helps you back into your room through some risky climbing manoeuvre on the outside wall of the hostel. You hope that you will never get used to it enough to no longer feel the thrill of tightly clinging onto Felix.

He climbs into the room with you to awkwardly stand around for a moment. It's the middle of the night and it's dead silent. He glances around himself to make sure that no one has noticed him but the other girls are still asleep.

"I'll see you tomorrow", Felix whispers. You just nod before you watch him climb out of the window again. He showed you the small hooks of the fabric earlier and how he can use them to climb the wall just like a spider would but you still watch in fascination as he sticks his body to the outside wall and climbs up the wall as if it's nothing. When he is almost out of sight you suddenly hear a whirring again. The sound of the spider thread. And in the next moment, Felix's head appears again. Hanging upside down just like before. He has put his mask back on but you can almost sense the wide grin below. His eyes are almost on the same level as yours. You walk a little closer to the window and stand on your tip toes. Hesitantly but with determination, you reach up a hand to pull down Felix's mask just enough to free his lips and reveal his upside-down grin. His lips part slightly in surprise and you use the opportunity to lean a little bit out of the window and press your lips against his.

The angle is awkward. His nose is pressed against your chin and your chin is probably almost hitting his eyes. But somehow you still manage to kiss like that. Felix's lips are surprisingly soft and even though he is surprised at first he soon kisses back with intent. You reach out a hand to place it on the back of his head where you would love to play with his hair but instead only grab the oddly smooth fabric of his mask. You tilt his head a little and he follows instinctively. His lips melt against yours perfectly. As if they were made to fit together. You can feel how he smiles into the kiss even though it feels like a frown with how he is hanging upside down. When you finally move back because you are about to fall out of the window if you try to kiss him any more Felix head is bright red. And you are not sure if it's all from the blood rushing to his head because he is hanging upside down.

"See you tomorrow", you say. Felix's lips curl into another upside down smile and then he disappears from view. You lean out of the window to get one last look at him. You watch as the Spiderman climbs the walls of the youth hostel and wonder what kind of picture that would be for any random person passing by. But there is no one else but you there to see him. You are the only one that watches as Lee Felix slips back into his own room where he'll take off the suit again. You are the only one who sees.

Dennis Hopper? Politics? That son of a bitch! That piece of butt-hair-crusted shit! What does that dumbfuck know about politics? I was the one who said: take up politics, Rafael, take up some noble cause, goddamn it, you're a freaking man of the people, and the bastard would look at me like I was shit, some piece of trash, like he was looking down from some imaginary height, and he would say: cool it, Barbarita, it's not so easy, and then he'd go to sleep and I'd have to go out to work and then school, I was busy all day, basically, I'm still busy all day, back and forth from the university to work (I waitress at a burger place on Reston Avenue), and when I came home Rafael would be asleep, the dishes in the sink, the floor dirty, crumbs in the kitchen (but no food for me, the deadbeat!), the house a pit, like a pack of baboons had been through, and then I'd have to start to clean, sweep, cook, then go out shopping to stock the refrigerator, and when Rafael woke up I'd ask him: have you written, Rafael? have you started your novel about Chicano life in San Diego? and Rafael would look at me like he was watching me on TV and say: I wrote a poem, Barbarita, and then I would give up and say all right, asshole, read it to me, and Rafael would open a couple of beers and hand me one (the bastard knows I shouldn't drink beer), then read me the goddamn poem. And it must be because deep down I still love him that the poem would make me cry almost without me realizing it (only if it was good), and when Rafael was done reading my face would be wet and shiny and he would come closer to me and I could smell him, he smelled like a Mexican, the bastard, and we would hold each other very gently, and then, but maybe half an hour later, we would start to make love, and then Rafael would say to me: what are we going to eat, baby? and I would get up, without getting dressed, and go into the kitchen and make him his eggs with ham and bacon, and as I cooked I would think about literature and politics and I would remember the time when Rafael and I were still living in Mexico and we went to see a Cuban poet, let's go see him, Rafael, I said, you're a man of the people and that faggot will have to recognize how talented you are whether he wants to or not, and Rafael said: but I'm a visceral realist, Barbarita, and I said don't be a dumb shit, your goddamn balls are visceral realist, will you face the fucking truth for once in your life, darling? so Rafael and I went to see the great lyric poet of the Revolution, and all the Mexican poets Rafael hated most (the poets Belano and Lima hated most, that is) had been there, it was funny because both of us could tell it by the smell, the Cuban's hotel room smelled like the peasant poets, like the poets from the magazine El Delfín Proletario, like Huerta's wife, like the Mexican Stalinists, like the shitty revolutionaries who cash a government check every two weeks, but anyway, what I said to myself and what I tried to tell Rafael telepathically was: don't blow it now, don't fuck this up, and the Havana guy was nice to us, a little tired, a little sad, but basically nice, and Rafael talked about the young Mexican poets but not about the visceral realists (before we went in I told him I'd kill him if he did) and I even came up on the spot with a plan for a magazine that, I said, the University of San Diego was going to fund, and the Cuban was interested in that, interested in Rafael's poems, interested in my fucking nonexistent magazine, and suddenly, when our visit was almost over, the Cuban, who at this point seemed more asleep than awake, suddenly asked us about visceral realism. I don't know how to explain it. The room in that fucking hotel. The silence and the distant elevators. The smell of the previous visitors. The Cuban's eyes, closing from sleep or boredom or liquor. His unexpected words, as if spoken by a man under hypnosis, a man mesmerized. It made me give a little scream, just a little scream but it sounded like a shot. It must have been nerves, that's what I told them. Then the three of us were silent for a while, the Cuban surely wondering who this hysterical gringa must be, Rafael wondering whether or not to talk about the group, and me saying over and over to myself you stupid fucking bitch, one of these days you're going to have to sew your fucking mouth shut. And then, as I imagined myself sitting in my closet at home, with a giant scab for a mouth, reading the stories of El llano en llamas over and over again, I heard Rafael talking about the visceral realists, I heard the fucking Cuban asking question after question, I heard Rafael saying yes, saying maybe, talking about the birth pangs of communism, I heard the Cuban proposing manifestos, proclamations, repostulations, greater ideological clarity, and then I couldn't restrain myself anymore and I opened my mouth and said that those days were over now, now Rafael was only speaking for himself, like the good poet he was, and then Rafael said be quiet, Barbarita, and I said don't tell me to be quiet, you bum, and the Cuban said oh, women, and tried to step in with his rotten, revolting macho bullshit, and I said shit, shit, shit, we just want to be published by the Casa de las Américas on our own merits, and then the Cuban looked at me very seriously and said of course, the Casa de las Américas always publishes people on their merits. As long as it suits them, I said, and Rafael said Jesus, Barbarita, the maestro will get the wrong idea, and I said the fucking maestro can think whatever he fucking wants, but the past is the past, Rafael, and your future is your future, right? and then the Cuban looked at me even more seriously, his eyes seeming to say sweetheart, if we were in Moscow you'd end up in a mental ward, but at the same time (I noticed this too) as if he were thinking, well, what does it matter, madness is madness is madness, and sadness too, and at the end of the day the three of us are Americans, children of Caliban, lost in the great American wilderness, and I think that touched me, to see a spark of understanding, a spark of tolerance in the eyes of that powerful man, as if he were saying don't take it to heart, Barbara, I know how these things are, and then, like an idiot, I smiled, and Rafael took out his poems, some fifty loose-leaf pages, and said here are my poems, friend, and the Cuban took his poems and thanked him, and then right away he and Rafael got up, as if in slow motion, like a flash of lightning, or twin flashes, or a flash and its shadow, but in slow motion, and in that fraction of a second I thought: everything is all right, I hope everything will be all right, and I saw myself swimming on a Havana beach and I saw Rafael by my side, a little distance away, talking to some American journalists, people from New York, from San Francisco, talking about LITERATURE, talking about POLITICS, at the gates of paradise.

Roberto Bolaño, The Savage Detectives

TRUMP DOES THE UNTHINKABLE. by Liz Crokin

As an entertainment journalist, I've had the opportunity to cover Trump for over a decade, and in all my years covering him I've never heard anything negative about the man until he announced he was running for president. Keep in mind, I got paid a lot of money to dig up dirt on celebrities like Trump for a living so a scandalous story on the famous billionaire could've potentially sold a lot of magazines and would've been a Huge feather in my cap.

Instead, I found that he doesn't drink alcohol or do drugs, he's a hardworking businessman. On top of that, he's one of the most generous celebrities in the world with a heart filled with more gold than his $100 million New York penthouse.

Since the media has failed so miserably at reporting the truth about Trump, I decided to put together some of the acts of kindness he's committed over three decades which has gone virtually unnoticed or fallen on deaf ears.

In 1986, Trump prevented the foreclosure of Annabell Hill's family farm after her husband committed suicide. Trump personally phoned down to the auction to stop the sale of her home and offered the widow money. Trump decided to take action after he saw Hill's pleas for help in news reports.

In 1988, a commercial airline refused to fly Andrew Ten, a sick

Orthodox Jewish child with a rare illness, across the country to get medical care because he had to travel with an elaborate life-support system. His grief-stricken parents contacted Trump for help and he didn't hesitate to send his own plane to take the child from Los Angeles to New York so he could get his treatment.

In 1991, 200 Marines who served in Operation Desert Storm spent time at Camp Lejune in North Carolina before they were scheduled to return home to their families. However, the Marines were told that a mistake had been made and an aircraft would not be able to take them home on their scheduled departure date. When Trump got wind of this, he sent his plane to make two trips from North Carolina to Miami to safely return the Gulf War Marines to their loved ones.

In 1995, a motorist stopped to help Trump after the limo he was traveling in got a flat tire. Trump asked the Good Samaritan how he could repay him for his help. All the man asked for was a bouquet of flowers for his wife. A few weeks later Trump sent the flowers with a note that read: We've paid off your mortgage.

In 1996, Trump filed a lawsuit against the city of Palm Beach ,

Florida, accusing the town of discriminating against his Mar-a-Lago resort club because it allowed Jews and blacks. Abraham Foxman, who as the Anti-Defamation League Director at the time, said Trump put the light on Palm Beach not on the beauty and the glitter, but on its seamier side of discrimination. Foxman also noted that Trump's charge had a trickle-down effect because other clubs followed his lead and

began admitting Jews and blacks.

In 2000, Maury Povich featured a little girl named Megan who struggled with Brittle Bone Disease on his show and Trump happened to be watching. Trump said the little girl's story and positive attitude touched his heart. So he contacted Maury and gifted the little girl and her family with a very generous check.

In 2008, after Jennifer Hudson's family members were tragically murdered in Chicago , Trump put the Oscar-winning actress and her family up at his Windy City hotel for free. In addition to that, Trump's security took extra measures to ensure Hudson and her family members were safe during such a difficult time.

In 2013, New York bus driver Darnell Barton spotted a woman close to the edge of a bridge staring at the traffic below as he drove by. He stopped the bus, got out and put his arm around the woman and saved her life by convincing her to not jump. When Trump heard about this story, he sent the hero bus driver a check simply because he believed his good deed deserved to be rewarded.

In 2014, Trump gave $25,000 to Sgt. Andrew Tamoressi after he spent seven months in a Mexican jail for accidentally crossing the US-Mexico border. President Barack Obama couldn't even be bothered to make one phone call to assist with the United States Marine's release; however, Trump opened his pocketbook to help this serviceman get back on his feet.

In 2016, Melissa Consin Young attended a Trump rally and tearfully thanked Trump for changing her life. She said she proudly stood on stage with Trump as Miss Wisconsin USA in 2005. However, years later she found herself struggling with an incurable illness and during her darkest days, she explained that she received a handwritten letter from Trump telling her she's the bravest woman, I know. She said the opportunities that she got from Trump and his organizations ultimately

provided her Mexican-American son with a full-ride to college.

Lynne Patton, a black female executive for the Trump Organization, released a statement in 2016 defending her boss against accusations that he's a racist and a bigot. She tearfully revealed how she's struggled with substance abuse and addiction for years. Instead of kicking her to the curb, she said the Trump Organization and his entire family loyally stood by her through immensely difficult times.

Donald Trump's kindness knows no bounds and his generosity has and continues to touch the lives of people from every sex, race, and religion. When Trump sees someone in need, he wants to help.

Two decades ago, Oprah asked Trump in a TV interview if he'd ever run for president. He said: "If it got so bad, I would never want to rule it out totally because I really am tired of seeing what's happening with this country.'"

That day has come. Trump sees that America is in need and he wants to help. How unthinkable! On the other hand, have you ever heard of Hillary or Obama ever doing such things with their own resources?

Now that's really unthinkable! Might be worth passing on!!!

Just shows we hired the right guy. If Hollywood , the liberals and the

media ever STOP harassing him, Trump will have time to do many more positive things for our country....the good ole United States of America!!

PS ~ To those who are already Fact Checking, don't bother . . . already did it, and all the stories are TRUE!

The Liberal, progressive, socialists want to destroy this guy. .

if u do take requests please: a fic where clarke and bellamy are in a stable relationship but someone makes a comment about her body figure, and she starts to feel unconfortable and make diets, not feeling good on being naked in front of him and he notices

loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Summary: Clarke has always known Bellamy is too good for her, but it still hurts when strangers on the internet think that too.

Rated T, ~4000 words

Clarke has always known that Bellamy would make it bigsomeday. They’ve been together since he was in drama school and he starred in ashort film she wrote. It’s still the best thing she’s ever made, and it’s notbecause it’s her best writing (far from it), it’s because he made it amazing.

Since then, Clarke has given up writing scripts, findingshe’s better suited to novels, and Bellamy has had a lot of small roles in TVshows. There were a couple of recurring characters, and once, the villain in asci-fi show that ended up being cancelled after a season. But finally, his fucking agent did somethinggood for once, and got him an audition for a big action trilogy, which of course he got the lead for, starringopposite the mega-famous supermodel/actress, Echo Whiting.

The premiere was last night, and people are already goingcrazy for it. Bellamy has never been the type to keep up with social media, orread reviews about his work, but Clarke loves it. She gets a thrill every timeshe sees his name pop up on her Twitter or Facebook feed, whether it’s a reviewof his brilliant performance or just a fan screaming about how much they lovehim. Sure, it gets weird sometimes, especially because a lot of his fans arethirsting after him, but she hardly ever reads anything negative about him.

He’s still asleep, and Clarke elects not to wake him up. Hefinally has some time off after weeks of interviews and appearances, and Clarkeisn’t about to ruin his first day to sleep in.

She opens Twitter on her phone, and searches Bellamy’s name.The latest tweet is a link to an article of the best and worst dressed from thepremiere last night, and Clarke clicks on it, already knowing Bellamy will bein the best category. She finds himat number two, after Echo, and she stares at his picture, smiling to herself.She loves him because he’s kind and selfless and funny and talented. But he’salso really hot as well.

The caption reads: BellamyBlake can do no wrong when it comes to fashion. We don’t care what he wears, aslong as he keeps showing up to give us that dreamy smile.

Clarke continues scrolling, until she reaches the worstdressed. Okay, if it were up to her, these lists wouldn’t even exist. But also,secretly she kind of likes judging other people’s clothes. She has to agreethat number one on the list is kind of awful. There are just too many colourson Ontari’s dress, and all of them clash. The second one Clarke doesn’t thinkis so bad, but then, she’s no fashion expert.

She continues scrolling, and her stomach drops when she seesnone other than herself at number three. She hadn’t even realised anyone waspaying attention to her. She’s not even in the movie. She’s not a famous actor.She’s just Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend.

She doesn’t even think she looks that bad in the dress shewore last night. She felt sexy at the time, in skin tight red, and if the wayBellamy pulled her out of it after they got home last night was any indication,he thought she looked sexy too.

Her eyes scan the caption, wondering why she’s made theworst dressed list.

Look guys, we havenothing wrong with the dress itself. But Clarke, honey, it’s not for you. Sheneeds a stylist that can dress her for her body type, and hide all theunflattering bits. Oh, and by the way, this is a red carpet, not the red lightdistrict. Put those things away!

Clarke feels sick to her stomach. She looks at the pictureagain, and suddenly she can see what they’re talking about. The dress stretchesover her stomach and thighs, making her look bigger than she is. Or maybe shereally is that big. And the dress probably is too low cut for someone withbreasts like Clarke’s. Echo would probably look really good in the dress.

“Hey,” Bellamy says sleepily, cuddling up to her. Clarkeexits the article quickly, blinking back tears.

“Sorry,” Clarke says. “Did I wake you?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. What were you reading?”

“Just a stupid article,” Clarke says.

“You’re not googling me again, are you?” Bellamy grins.Clarke smiles back at him. She has to remind herself that it doesn’t matterwhat one dumb article says about her. Bellamy’s opinion is the one thatmatters, and he loves her and thinks she’s beautiful.

“Someone has to do it,” Clarke says.

“Well, thank you for being my biggest fan,” Bellamy says,leaning over her to kiss her. He takes her phone from her hands, placing itaside, continuing to kiss her, letting his hands roam over her body. She tenseswhen he grips her thigh, and he stops. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says quickly. God, she’s so stupid. She can’tlet the words of some bitch pretending to be a journalist get to her. They’rejust jealous that Clarke is with Bellamy. And who could blame them?

Even knowing this, she pushes him off her and scoots out ofbed.

“I just really need to pee,” she says, shooting him a smileto show him she’s okay.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her, but he doesn’t push it.“Okay,” he says. “We should probably get up anyway. I still have to pack.”

“We have time,” Clarke says. “Go back to sleep.” He givesher that dreamy smile everyone is so in love with, then falls back against thepillows. Clarke heads to the bathroom, wondering if she should have told himabout the article. Except she already knows what he’d say. He’d tell her thearticle is wrong, and that they’re just trying to get attention, and that sheneeds to stop reading that shit. And he’d be right, obviously. Which is why shedoesn’t tell him.

  Clarke decides she’s going to go social media free for acouple of weeks, while she and Bellamy are in Fiji. He has some time off, andwhile he loves his job and his fans, Clarke knows he tires of being the centreof attention. It will be good for the two of them to disappear, even if justfor a little while.

“No Twitter, no Facebook, no Instagram. I’m not even goingto use Google,” Clarke tells Bellamy, putting her phone on the charger. They’restaying in a tiny little private villa, close to the beach, and Bellamy isalready dressed in his swim shorts. It’s a distracting sight.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I also know youvery well. If you last the day I’ll be surprised,” he grins.

“That sounds a lot like you don’t believe me,” Clarke pouts.

Bellamy laughs. “I believe you want to try.”

“I’ll show you,” Clarke says, poking her tongue out. “I’mnot even going to take my phone with me to the beach.”

“That sounds like a brag, but I don’t get why you would evenneed a phone at the beach.”

“Photos,” Clarke says. She picks up her phone and snaps oneof him to prove her point. “That’s going to be my new lock screen.”

Bellamy shakes his head, amused. “Come on,” he says, holdingout his hand. “The ocean is calling to me.”

Clarke takes his hand, grabbing her towel from the bed onthe way. They make the five minute walk to the beach hand in hand. It’s perfectbeach weather, warm and not too windy, and yet there is hardly anyone else onthe beach. They lay their towels down, and Bellamy waits for Clarke to take herdress off so they can get in the water. She hesitates, just for a moment. Thewords from the article run through her mind, reminding her about all her unflattering bits. She’s just wearing abikini underneath the dress, and it doesn’t cover all that much. She hadn’tlooked in the mirror when she put it on, and she’s suddenly worried about whatshe looks like in it.

Steeling herself, Clarke hurriedly pulls the dress over herhead and puts it down on her towel, trying to keep her stomach covered with herarms as long as possible. When she looks up, Bellamy is staring at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. He smirks. “Just wish we wereback at the villa instead of on this very public beach.”

“You wanted to come to the beach.”

“Yeah, but that was before I saw you in that bikini.”

“Stop it,” she says, giving him a playful shove. She stillloves it when he gets all flirty with her, looks at her like he wants to devourher. Yet part of her wonders if he’s just putting it on. Acting like he wantsher more than he really does. He grabs her arm and tugs her close, kissing her.“We shouldn’t do this here,” Clarke murmurs between kisses.

“Why?” Bellamy whispers back.

“You’re famous. People might recognise you and takepictures.”

“I don’t care.”

Clarke breaks away from his lips, trailing her fingers downhis arm and taking his hand. “We’re going swimming first,” she says, pullinghim towards the ocean. “And then when we get back to the villa you can dowhatever you like to me.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees, and he lets Clarke lead him into theshallows. He grabs her around the waist, and she shrieks, laughing as he kissesher, then pulls her down into the water. He loves her, Clarke reminds herself.He loves her and he wants her, regardless of what anyone else says. She has toremember that.

  Out of stubbornness and nothing else, Clarke makes it thewhole two weeks without social media. She does feel proud of herself, but thetrue prize is Bellamy admitting he was wrong for doubting her.

Of course, the first thing she does when they get home isopen Twitter, while Bellamy does the responsible thing and starts unpacking hissuitcase.

She goes through her notifications, liking questions fromfans about her next book so she can answer them later. She reads every tweetshe’s mentioned in, which usually isn’t that many, seeing as it’s been a whilesince her last book came out, and though she’s on Twitter a lot, she doesn’tactually tweet that much. Occasionally she’ll get people asking her aboutBellamy, but she never replies to those ones.

There is a tweet from what looks like a Bellamy Blake fanaccount, judging from the username.

Give Bellamy Blake anOscar @bblakefan291

@clarkegriffinwritesdid you see this? people are so mean

Clarke clicks on the tweet, wondering what mean thingspeople could possibly be saying about Bellamy. She doesn’t want to get into aTwitter war over it, and she probably won’t tell him if it’s too harsh, but shefeels like she needs to know anyway.

She finds the tweet is a reply to a picture, a photo takenof her and Bellamy while they were at the beach. Her first thought is that theyboth look really happy. They’re standing in the shallows and he’s got his armaround her and she has the biggest smile on her face. Then she reads thecomment that goes with it.

Kelly @bechorise

No offence but he cando so much better lol. What is he even doing with her?

Clarke rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the sinking feelingin her stomach. It doesn’t matter to her what some random on the internet hasto say about her relationship with Bellamy.

She knows she should just exit the app and forget about it,but she sees the tweet has three hundred likes already, and fifteen replies,and she can’t resist scrolling down to see what other people are saying.Perhaps some part of her hopes there are people defending her.

Bellamy and Echo @bellamyandecho

He should be withsomeone actually hot. Like Echo!!!!!

Georgia @georgiagg55

She actually has apretty face but she really needs to lose a few pounds

hell is empty @ladygagaisshakespeare

lmao someone finallysaid it

Bellamy Blake’s Wife @wifeofbellamyblake

I’m hotter than she ishe should be with me!!!

becho are secretlydating @bechoes

don’t worry, this isjust a cover, he’s actually with Echo. It would literally make no sense for himto be dating this nobody lol that’s all the proof you need

frankie @franksfornothing

you can tell she’s waymore into him than he is into her. He’s going to break up with her soon I canfeel it. Then we celebrate ladies!

There are a couple of tweets defending her, but the repliesto those tweets are just other people telling them to shut up. The worst one iswhere someone has reposted the picture, but they’ve circled and labelled allher flaws. Her cellulite, her stretch marks, the rolls of fat around herstomach.

Her chest is tight and her eyes well with tears. It’sstupid, she knows it’s stupid. They’re just strangers on the internet whoseopinions shouldn’t matter. But the thing is, she’s always kind of suspectedshe’s not good enough for him. When he first asked her out, she had troublebelieving it wasn’t some kind of dumb prank. Guys that look like that don’tdate girls that look like Clarke. They date girls that look like Echo Whiting.

And it’s not that Clarke thinks Bellamy is cheating on her,or wants to cheat on her, or is secretly planning to break up with her when thetime is right. But she can see what everyone else sees. That he’s better thanher. He’s more talented, he’s more charismatic, he’s more attractive. Clarkedoesn’t deserve him, and she’s always kind of known it. Deep down, there’s thisfear that one day he’s going to wake up and realise he can do better, and thenhe’ll leave her. To have other people validate that fear, to have strangers onthe internet voice her worst and darkest thoughts about herself and herrelationship—it just makes it seem more real.

The thought of losing Bellamy makes her ache. What if hesees this picture, sees how out of her league he is, starts seeing her the wayshe really is? How long would it take him to stop touching her, because hethinks she’s too fat? Stops taking her as his date to awards shows andpremieres because he realises she makes him look bad?

“Okay, I’m done unpacking,” Bellamy says, strolling out fromthe bedroom. Clarke quickly brushes the tears from her eyes, swallowing. Shecan’t tell him about this. He’ll think she’s stupid, or he’ll think she’sright, and either way she doesn’t want to deal with it. He stops, frowning, hisface etched with concern. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. Evidently, she hasn’t hidden her tearsas well as she would have liked. “Just watched a dog video.”

Bellamy smiles. “Cute. You want to get pizza for dinner? I’mnot really in the mood for cooking.”

Clarke hesitates. Pizza does sound good. But perhaps sheshouldn’t be eating pizza, if she actually wants to keep her boyfriend. “Youcan get pizza if you want. I’m not that hungry.”

“I can just order you some garlic bread if you want.”

Clarke huffs. “No, Bellamy. I don’t want garlic bread.”

“But you love garlic bread. And you might be hungry later.You can heat it up—”

“I said I don’t want it,” Clarke snaps. Bellamy snaps hismouth closed, frowning. Clarke takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” she mutters. “Ithink I’m just tired from the flight. I’m going to take a shower and go tobed.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. Clarke doesn’t look at him as sheheads to the bathroom, but she knows he’s watching her, confused as to why shesnapped at him. Clarke doesn’t even really know herself, except that he’sencouraging her to eat things that will make her fat, and that annoys her.

While she’s in the shower, she decides she’s going to starta diet in the morning. Cut out carbs completely maybe. Only eat things that aregreen.

She towels herself off and puts her pyjamas on and gets intobed. She can smell Bellamy’s pizza when it arrives. Her stomach grumbles. Whenhe comes into the bedroom to offer her some, she pretends to be asleep.

  Clarke starts her diet the next morning. While Bellamy isstill asleep, she plans out what she’s allowed to eat for the for the week andsticks the chart on the fridge with a magnet. She’s already hungry just lookingat it. But she’s sure she’ll get over that.

Breakfast today is just half a grilled tomato. Bellamywanders into the kitchen as she plates it up.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“A tomato.”

“What’s it for?”

“Breakfast.”

The look Bellamy gives her is sceptical. “That’s notbreakfast, Clarke. At least have some toast with it.”

“Can you stop telling me what to eat?”

Bellamy actually flinches. Clarke stabs her tomato with herfork, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh huh,” she says. She doesn’t look up from her plate. “Ijust really have a craving for grilled tomato,” she says. She keeps talkingbefore Bellamy can say anything else. “Anyway, I need to get some writing donethis morning, so I’m going to be in my office for a few hours,” she saysquickly, picking up her plate and hurrying to her office.

She hardly gets any writing done. She’s hungry and she can’tthink straight and she feels guilty for snapping at Bellamy for no reason. She’swritten two sentences in two hours by the time she hears Bellamy get back fromhis run. She sighs to herself, leaving her work and finding him in the bedroom,stripping off his sweat soaked shirt.

“Hey,” she says, poking her head into the room. Bellamylooks up, throwing his shirt into the laundry basket. “Sorry about before.”

“It’s fine, Clarke,” he says. He folds his arms over hischest, his biceps bulging. Clarke quickly meets his eyes. This is a seriousconversation. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on though?”

Clarke shrugs. “Must be getting my period.” All manner ofweird behaviour can be excused that way, right?

“That’s it?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy sags. “Fuck, Clarke,” he says. “You hadme really worried.”

“You were worried? About what?”  

“Yeah,” he says softly, walking over to her. He takes herhands in his. “I thought—I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” He kisses her softly,then a little harder. He presses her against the doorframe, crushing heragainst his sweaty chest. Clarke’s heart races as she kisses him back, her needfor him growing.

“Bellamy,” she whispers, her voice husky. He presses a kissto each of her cheeks.

“Yes?”

“I need you.”

“Come and shower with me,” Bellamy says, his lips againsthers again, his hands still holding hers. He tugs her towards the bathroom, andClarke lets him pull her with him. He doesn’t even bother shutting the bathroomdoor before he’s kissing her again. His hands slide under her shirt, and she tensesup instinctively, thinking about the circles that person drew on her picture,pointing out her chubby stomach. Bellamy stops instantly, pulling back.

“Clarke?”

“It’s okay,” she says, even though it’s not. She wants him,she really wants him. But the thought of him seeing her like the rest of theworld sees her makes her sick. She looks okay in her baggy shirt and jeans, butshe doesn’t want him to see her naked. Not until she’s lost some weight, andshe can look like a girlfriend he can actually be proud of. “I just—um,” shesteps back, away from him, eyes on the floor. “I changed my mind. I—” she feelsher throat closing up. She tries to swallow, so she won’t cry.

“Clarke, baby,” Bellamy says softly. “What’s going on? Tellme.”

She looks up at him, just as a tear rolls down her cheek.She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to think I’m ugly,” she says, and itsounds so stupid she could laugh, if her chest didn’t ache so much.

“Ugly?” Bellamy shakes his head. “Why would I ever think you’reugly?”

Clarke sobs, though she tries to hold it back. The truthspills out of her. “Everybody thinks I’m not good enough for you. And they’reright. Why are you even with me, when you could have anybody you want? Someonewho’s actually in your league?”

“Clarke—” Bellamy says, searching her eyes, confused andconcerned. “I don’t understand. Who thinks you’re not good enough for me?”

Clarke pulls her phone from her back pocket and opensTwitter. It only takes her a moment to find the tweet.

“I don’t get it,” Bellamy says. “This is a good picture.”

“Read the comments, Bellamy.”

Bellamy looks back to the phone, his eyes scanning thescreen as he scrolls. His expression gets darker and darker as he reads. Helooks up, his eyes hot with rage.

“Clarke,” he says. “This is a load of bullshit. I love you and I want to be with you. Just the thought of you thinkingyou’re not good enough for me—” he cuts himself off with a huff. “Fuck anyone whomakes you think that,” he growls.

Clarke shrugs. “But look at me,” she says. “And look at you.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, his anger turning to anguish. “Don’tsay that. You’re beautiful. What can I do to make you believe me?”

“Nothing, Bellamy,” Clarke huffs. “It’s not your fault. I believeyou believe that. But one day you’re going to wake up and realise you should bewith someone who makes you look good. Someone like Echo.”

“I’ll quit the movie,” Bellamy says. “I’ll quit actingentirely. None of it means anything if I don’t have you.”

Clarke shakes her head, tears falling again. “Don’t give upyour dream because of me.”

“Don’t leave me,” Bellamy says, his voice trembling. “I loveyou. I love you.”

Clarke’s heart misses a beat. “I’m not leaving you,” she says.“God, Bellamy. This isn’t a break up.”

Bellamy exhales, his relief evident. He takes her face inhis hands. “Clarke. You have to know, I think you’re gorgeous. I don’t want youto ever doubt that. But I don’t love you because of the way you look. I loveyou because of you. All of you. Ilove you exactly as you are, and I will love you if you change entirely, and Iwill love you if you stay the same.”

Clarke’s heart thrums in her chest. She puts her hand overhis. With his words, the fierce sincerity in his eyes, her doubts vanish. He’snever once made her feel like she’s not worthy of him, and the fact that shelet some childish internet trolls make her believe any different fills her withshame.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should never evenhave read those comments. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or thatI think you’re shallow—”

“Hey, hey,” he says. “You don’t have to be sorry. You feelhow you feel. But I want to know how you feel too, okay?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy drops his hands from her face. “Wouldyou really quit acting for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”

“You know I would never ask you to do that, right?”

“I know,” Bellamy says. “And that’s why I would.”

Clarke shakes her head, smiling. “I’m the last person whowould want you to give up acting. You know I’m your biggest fan, right?”

Bellamy smiles. “And I’m yours.”

Betting on the Bullseye (16/?)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I didn’t have to edit, Nonnie, so sometime this weekend turns out to be Friday night! Happy weekend, you guys!

AO3: Beginning | Current 

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings

Over the course of June, Killian’s sure that he flies between Los Angeles and Boston more times than any other passenger. He’s not really working consistently while Emma is, so he’s constantly loading up on a plane, racking up miles every time just to spend a day or two in Boston before he’s flying back for a meeting or a pre-made appointment. Sometimes he has to simply show up an event, let people see him wearing clothes, and then he can leave. He thinks those are his least favorite, but as much as acting is his job, that is too.

Sometimes he really wonders about his life. It’s definitely not normal. He knows that, but he’s honestly used to it. He was comfortable with it, but that was before he fell in love with a woman who lives three thousand miles away.

(Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine miles to be exact. He looked it up.)

Honestly, though, he’d spend his life on a plane just to be with her. Will calls him sappy (a sappy wanker actually), and while he might be, he doesn’t really care. It’s definitely worth it.

Emma is worth it.

Damn, okay, maybe he is sappy.

Of course, with his frequent flying and the few posts he’s made about Emma online, never showing her face or saying her name, the amount of pictures of him on the internet has increased drastically. With that, journalists and paparazzi have begun to investigate where he’s going, often finding him in Boston with Emma when they’re out to eat or running outside. Last week they went to the Red Sox game when they were playing the Yankees, bringing her friends with them, and he couldn’t even begin to count the amount of people that were waiting outside of the stadium when he left. What could possibly be so interesting about him walking out of a baseball game he’ll never know.

According to Robin, they’ve recognized Emma from their first date at the charity gala, and with every new picture that’s taken, there’s some other bogus article about them, the information supposedly coming from their close friends. Considering that everything about it is bullshit and that none of their friends would ever talk to a journalist, he’s not too concerned about it all. Really, everything is gossip, just articles that are made for clicks, and the only concerns he truly has about all of it is Emma and her well-being.

She seems to be fine, says that she’s fine, and is always telling him that she understood what she was getting into to a certain extent. It hasn’t been as bad as it once had been in the past, his lack of released projects likely helping with that, and he’s never been so thankful for not having worked as much as he usually does. She did say there were some photographers outside of her apartment last week, which isn’t a shock since they managed to find it the night of their first date, but that it hadn’t been enough to make her uncomfortable.

He, however, is entirely uncomfortable with anyone trailing after Emma and her home. He’s the one who chose this profession and everything that comes with it, and while he doesn’t like it, he should be the one to have to take all of the displeasure and annoyances that come with it, not his girlfriend when she’s simply trying to go throughout her life like she always has.

Emma’s flying out to him tomorrow, though, claiming that she wants to spend some time at the beach for the weekend. She took Friday off, has been working her arse off all week to make up for it too, and he’s excited to see her while also being able to spend time in his own home. He’s not saying his bed is more comfortable than Emma’s, but his bed is definitely more comfortable than Emma’s.

She admits to it as well.

His bed is bloody comfortable.

“You have issues, man,” Will whistles, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and settling down on a stool while Killian continues to wash their plates from lunch.

“What issues do I have?”

“You’ve been in here scrubbing three plates for over fifteen minutes. And you’re just going to put them in the washer too. I don’t see the point.”

Killian shrugs, rinsing his plate off one more time before drying it with a towel. “It’s a force of habit. Didn’t have a dishwasher growing up and had to do things by hand. I’ve never quite gotten out of the habit. Also, you’re not supposed to insult the hands that feed you.”

“Before you eat, mate. It’s after. You can’t spit in my food now.” “I’ll save it for next time. What time do you have to be down at the bar?”

“Seven. I’m working until closing, which always sucks on Wednesdays. Who the hell stays out until closing on Wednesdays?”

“People who need something to drink about or who don’t have normal jobs. Or kids. So, really, most people in this city.”

“True,” Will sighs, taking another sip of his water. “I’m still waiting for you to give me a fancy job like Rob where I can finally work semi-normal hours.” “I told you. Come up with something you can do, and I’ll let you do it. Though you do serve a mean drink.” He opens up the dishwasher and puts the plates inside, checking to see how much longer until he can run the thing. “Is the match still going on?”

“Yeah, it’s in the beginnings of the fifth set. I think Rob is going to pull his hair out. But not for him. Rol has apparently been freaking out for the whole tournament. Tennis is his new thing, says Messi and Ronaldo are old news.” “Ah, to be young and switch interests so quickly.”

“Bloody hell,” Robin groans from the living room, loud enough for them to hear in the kitchen. “Why would you do that? You should have gone down the line instead of cross court.”

“Do we need to go save him before he rips all of his hair out and breaks your TV?”

“I don’t care about his hair, but I do care about my TV.”

“I can hear you,” Robin yells, the displeasure in his voice obvious. “You try having a son who’s freaking out about this match while he’s supposed to be learning how to use correct grammar at school.”

“I’ll get to working on that,” Will jokes, sliding back in his stool while Killian grabs himself a water bottle as well. “Though I don’t really think a lass will want to have a kid with me just so I can yell at the TV. I think that’s the opposite of what they want.”

“Just shut up and come watch the match,” Robin groans, and Killian shakes his head back and forth while laughter rumbles through his stomach.

“You two are ridiculous.”

-/-

Emma: I just boarded the plane. See you soon! Is there a way you can make the rain forecast go away?

Kilian: Let me just use my magical powers, and I’ll do that for you.

Emma: You’re da bomb diggity.

Emma: Pretend I didn’t type that.

Killian: Never. Be safe, love.

Emma: I shall not wear my seatbelt and will walk around during turbulence.

Killian: The definition of safety.

He goes back to lounging on his couch and flipping through channels on the TV. It’s been a long time since he was this bored, and he’s contemplating asking Elsa to bring Aiden over to the house just so that he has someone to talk to. Of course, he’s thinking about having a baby for his conversational partner, so he’s not sure how good of an idea that is.

Elsa would be here too, but he honestly wasn’t thinking about having her to talk to. He may be a horrible brother-in-law. And friend. So both. He’s terrible with both.

He’ll have to go see them sometime next week. He’s saw Liam when they went to dinner Monday night, but Elsa had been going to spend time with her friends. Maybe Emma will want to go over there this weekend, or they can come here and spend the day at the beach with them.

If he makes the rain go away. He’s supposed to be doing that.

He really might be bored enough to be delusional.

Sighing, he keeps flipping through the channels and leaves it on Friends, knowing if anything that can just play in the background while he fiddles around on his phone. He might need to pick up a new hobby other than reading and exercising. And he’s pretty sure that exercising is technically part of his job.

Does he really only have one hobby? Well, taking his boat out must count. So that’s two.

He’s got to work on this apparently.

Slowly but surely the hours pass as he alternates between watching TV and wandering around his house, cleaning up and straightening anything that’s out of place. If he wasn’t always traveling, he’d get a dog to keep him company, and he definitely spent at least two hours looking at different breeds just now.

He wants them all.

His phone buzzes to tell him there’s someone at the gate, and when he checks the video feed, it’s Emma punching in the code and walking through with her weekend bag slung over her shoulder. He immediately gets up from the couch and walks to his front door, swinging it open and running outside to catch Emma before she bothers going through the garage.

“Oh hey,” she begins when she sees him twisting her body at the sound of the door opening. “Were you watching the cameras because – ”

He doesn’t let her finish, grabbing onto her waist and pulling her to him with his lips, effectively quieting her words while she gasps into her mouth. It’s only been a week, but he’s been anxiously awaiting her being here for the entire time. Missing her isn’t getting any easier. If anything, he thinks it’s getting a bit harder. She tastes like coffee and minty gum, a combination that’s not great, but he doesn’t really care with the way she’s sliding her lips over his and threading her fingers into his hair, her nails scratching at the sensitive spots on his scalp. God, he loves her a ridiculous amount, and he’ll never not be thankful that she allows him to be a part of her life.

“Were you watching the cameras?” she sighs breathlessly when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his, her skin ridiculously warm while a breeze blows past them, the impending storm picking up. “Because I can’t decide if that’s sweet or creepy.”

“Just be quiet, Swan,” he laughs, gliding his lips over hers again and sucking on her upper lip. He quite likes the little noise she makes when he does it, and he’d like to hear it as often as possible. “And I wasn’t watching. My phone sends me a message whenever there’s someone at the gate.” “Fancy.” “I try to be. You want to come inside?” “Why, Mr. Jones,” she begins in an exaggerated accent, “you have to buy me dinner first before I come inside. I am a lady. I can’t just go home with any man.”

“Did you watch a period piece on the plane?” “Absolutely I did.” “That’s what I thought.”

The moment they get inside and have the door closed, Emma drops her bag to the ground and wraps her arms around his neck while he backs her up to the front door, rolling his hips against hers while his mouth moves over hers with more force and more intensity than it did outside. This is how most of their reunions go, hurriedly greeting each other and making up for all of the lost time that they’ve missed while apart. She’s bloody intoxicating in the way the she feels against him, the way that her tongue feels as it dances with his, and with the way that her hands move along his shoulders and up and down his sides, snaking up under his shirt at the same time this his hands find the warm skin of her stomach.

“I smell like airport.” “You know I don’t care. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she sighs before gasping as his lips trace along her jaw, nipping slightly and soothing every bite with his tongue. He doesn’t want to leave a mark, won’t leave one, but she likes when he teases her. He likes it too.

“That seemed like the longest flight of all time.” “You weren’t…ah fuck, you weren’t even on it.”

“I was waiting for you.” “Again, it sounds creepy without context.”

He chuckles against her ear before kissing the lobe all the while his thumbs ghost over her nipples through her bra. He can feel the lace underneath his touch, and it sends a shiver down his spine. She’s not usually one for pretty little underwear, so he’s not going to complain when he’s gifted with this.

“You talk far too much when I’m supposed to be taking your breath away.” “Do a better job,” she teases him, resting her forehead against his shoulder while she maneuvers herself to wrap her legs around his waist, grinding her core into his so that they both groan. “You can take me upstairs now.” “Not feeling like walking?” “Not at all.”

He walks her down the hallway and to the stairs all the while her lips trail across his jaw and down his neck, the pressure at the base of his spine continuously building and building and building to the point where it’s almost painful not to be inside of her right now.

“Oh my God, KJ,” she gasps when he stops to readjust her in his arms on the middle landing, “don’t you dare drop me.”

“I’m not going to, love. That’s why I’m adjusting you. This isn’t as easy as you’d think when my entire body is thrumming with frustration.”

“Thrumming?” “It’s a word.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of weird word when you think about it. I mean – ”

“Emma, my love,” he interrupts continuing to take the steps upstairs since he’s now confident he won’t drop her, “I will absolutely sit with you and talk about language in about twenty minutes, but I need you to not think about the origins of the word thrumming right now.”

“Oh you think you’re going to last that long when you’re thrumming with desire?”

He drops Emma on the bed the moment he’s close enough to it, letting her bounce just because she’s being a smart arse, but she doesn’t seem at all deterred by that. “You are driving me mad.” “I know, I know,” she squeals as he peppers kisses across her face while undoing his zipper. “I just feel like humming would be a better choice there and – ”

He cuts her off with a kiss. It’s all he can do when she’s in a playful mood like this and wants to have an absolutely ridiculous conversation with him when he really does feel as if he may burst from frustration, desire, or whatever the hell Emma wants to call it. Honestly, he loves her, but he missed her like mad and needs this right now. And Emma’s very obviously not protesting with the way she whimpers into his mouth.

Despite their brief interlude, it’s a rush of clothing being removed and bodies melding into each other just as their lips have been. She feels fucking fantastic wrapped around him as she moves up and down above him, and he has to briefly close his eyes with the pleasure of it all. They’ve truly gotten into a groove as of late, finally having time to learn more about each other’s bodies and pleasures as they spend more time together, and he can absolutely feel all of the proof of that right now.

It’s honestly like heaven.

Emma falls apart before he does despite how keyed up he’s been, but he doesn’t last long after her, not with the way she feels pulsing (thrumming) around him and the way she whispers his name over and over again into his ear while her nails dig into his shoulders. It was quick and a bit messy, maybe even a little harsh, but as they both rest against each other while catching their breaths, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hold on, darling,” he whispers, moving her off of him while he walks into the bathroom on still shaky legs to clean himself up and get a wash cloth for Emma. He gently cleans her up before pulling on his boxers and tossing the cloth in the laundry bin as he settles back into bed where Emma is still stretched out. “You not going to move, Swan?”

“In a minute,” she yawns, slowly sitting up and propping herself up on her elbows. “The jet lag is hitting me right now. Like, hard. I think I was run over by the plane at some point.” “Why don’t you go to sleep?” “I’m trying,” she yawns again, slowly getting up from the bed and stretching her limbs out the slightest bit. “Will you be, like, the best man in the entire world and go get my bag from downstairs? I’m just going to wear your pajamas, but I need my toothbrush.”

“I bought you one to keep here when I went shopping the other day. And I stocked up on some more of your shampoo.”

“Is it the – ”

“Yep, it’s the electronic kind that you and your special teeth like.”

“Bless you,” she sighs, coming over to him and cupping her cheeks before slanting her lips over his while his hands rest at her hips. “I love you, and I know I’m, like, deliriously tired, but that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” “Yeah, we’re definitely going to have to work on that then.” He gently slaps her arse while their lips are still ghosting over each other. “Go get dressed and try out that toothbrush, Swan.”

“I most definitely will.”

-/-

He’s standing in his kitchen drinking his mug of coffee the next morning when Emma stumbles down the stairs with all of the grace she usually possesses as she walks over his pajama pants that are far too long on her. Usually she rolls them up, but she must have just decided to take the risk of tripping and walked down the stairs like that. Honestly, he’s not even really sure if she’s actually fully awake right now with how sleep rumpled she is.

“G’morning, love.” “Morning,” she gruffs, walking toward him and taking his coffee out of his hands only to take a sip and scrunch up her face. “This is disgusting.” “That’s because it’s made for me and not for you. You don’t like black coffee. I do.”

“You’re weird,” she moans, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist after putting the mug down. She must be exhausted, all of her sleep making her groggier than usual, and he lets her rest there, rubbing his hand up and down her back while her hair gets caught in his mouth. Her hair is really something else. “I’m tired.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” She weakly hits his back before pulling away from him. “Sorry for taking your coffee. I’m going to make an actual, drinkable cup now, and you can keep your nasty one to yourself.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“Ha,” Emma laughs, her eyes lighting up, “I knew that I’d get you to say it!”

“Aye, Swan, you’ve bested me with your odd little sayings.”

“Yes, exactly.” She pokes him in the stomach before moving around him and preparing her own cup. “I said bloody hell the other day, so we obviously both have problems.”

It’s nice to have a slow, quiet morning with Emma. There’s no impending plane ride tomorrow, no immediate rush to do everything they absolutely can in twenty-four hours, so they sit in his living room, drinking their coffee and eating the bagels he had delivered this morning. Usually he’d cook something, but he wasn’t feeling like it this morning, figuring he could just order in while Emma was sleeping upstairs.

He really likes having her here, and while he knows it’s far too soon to even suggest it, he wishes it could be a permanent thing. He keeps thinking about it, though, thinking about the fact that Emma could have more than just her toothbrush here.

She’s laughing at the beginning of the Hangover, something he’d like to get to experience more often, and while he wonders why that movie is playing before noon on a Friday, he’s not going to question it when he can already feel his stomach rumbling with laughter as well. Suddenly Emma’s phone starts ringing, the vibrations causing it to move across the coffee table, and she leans forward to pick it up. “Hello?” she answers, adjusting her legs and tucking them underneath her. “Oh hey, Rubes. Rubes? Hey, Ruby?” she soothes, her voice calm yet firm, and he immediately mutes the television so Emma can hear. “Ruby, you have to stop cursing and tell me what’s wrong. Are you okay? Is Marg okay?”

She looks over at him with fear in her eyes, the green brighter than usual, but he can see them relax while Ruby tells her whatever she tells her. He can’t hear, the sounds muffled, but if Emma wanted him to, she’d put in on speaker.

“Oh, Rubes,” Emma sighs, getting up from the couch and pacing the room, “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He has absolutely no idea what’s happening, what’s wrong with Ruby, but he watches Emma move back and forth in front of his television, running her hand through her hair multiple times all the while biting her lip. She doesn’t look upset, not truly, but she’s definitely not happy. The fact that she’s not crying soothes him in the fact that he doesn’t think someone has died or been in an accident.

He wants to know because he’s curious, but he also wants to know because he wants everyone to be okay. He’s really come to care about Emma’s friends.

“I’m going to be home Sunday night. I promise. I’ll come over to your place, or you can come over to mine. It doesn’t matter, but why don’t you go spend some time with Marg? I know you probably want to be alone, but Marg really does help. And I know for a fact that she’s got a bunch of good junk food in her freezer. I love you, Rubes.”

Ruby obviously says a few more things, Emma nodding her head to all of them, before she’s hanging up her phone, placing in on the coffee table, and then coming to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

He rubs his hand up and down her back in what he hopes are calming circles. “What’s wrong, Swan? You okay?”

“Fine,” she mumbles into his skin before pulling back and settling back on his thighs. He gently take her hand in his, bringing her wrist to his lips and kissing the skin there several times. “I mean, I feel really shitty for being here because Ruby and Victor broke up and I’m not there to comfort her. She took the day off of work and everything, and Ruby is not one for moping. But she’s moping. I think we really all hoped it was going to work out for them this time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“You’re not home because you’re here with me. I’m sorry for Ruby, and I’m sorry you can’t be there with her.”

“It’s okay,” she sighs, and he can tell that she only partially means it. “Marg is much more comforting, and then by the time Ruby’s ready to bash Victor, I’ll be there with all of the things that bothered me about him but that I never voiced.”

“Is the hair number one on that list?”

“Stop,” she groans, scrunching up her face and slapping his shoulder. “That’s awful.” “I mean, that is probably pretty tame compared to what’s going on in your mind right now.”

“True.” Emma dips her head and slants her lips over his. She tastes like her coffee, the vanilla creamer obvious, and he can’t say he minds, not when the taste is on her lips and not in his coffee. It’s much better than the mint and coffee of last night. “I love you.”

He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ears, the strands continuously falling, before looking up at her through his lashes while his thumb traces over her cheek, over the freckles that reside there. “I love you, too. Do you want to go out to the beach to get your mind off of things?” “I’d like that.”

The temperature continues to rise throughout the day, but with the way the sky is overcast, the heat isn’t overwhelming. If anything, it almost makes it cool despite being over eighty degrees. And as the dark clouds move in, thunder rumbling in the air, he only gets a few minutes to appreciate Emma in the scrap of fabric she has on before they’re rushing inside already soaked to the bone with how quickly the rain fell.

He thought maybe the storm wouldn’t come after it didn’t break last night, but he was apparently wrong about that.

After they’ve both quickly rinsed the sand off in the shower and changed into warmer clothes, they settle down in his room, Emma pulling the comforter practically up to her chin while he flips through the channels trying to find something to watch. Emma teases him when they pass one of his movies, practically begging to watch, but he refuses and settles on one of the Oceans movies just to have something playing. Friday afternoon is obviously not prime time for movie replays.

Obviously Fridays are just bad for television overall.

Emma’s been herself all day, but he can tell that not being at home with Ruby is definitely bothering her. She’ll get quiet every now and then, her gaze trailing away, and she’s got her phone by her side constantly when she usually leaves it alone for a little while, not always having to be on it. He wishes he could help, had offered to pay for her ticket so she could go home early, but she insisted that it was fine, that it really will be better for her to stay. Still, he can tell that she wishes she was at home, especially when she walks out of the room to talk to Mary Margaret for at least an hour.

“We should do something with your family tomorrow,” she tells him. “Or Will and Robin. I don’t know. As much as I love sitting inside with you with it pouring down rain outside, we probably should leave this house at some point. Or maybe have people come to us.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer and kissing her temple. “Elsa did say she wanted to do something with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How?”

He can feel her shrug under his arm. “We text.” “Really now?”

“Hey, don’t be so surprised. I like her. Also, I know that you and Marg talk about food all of the time, so it’s really not weird.”

“I never said it was, love.”

“It was implied, KJ.”

-/-

“You’re such a cutie,” Emma coos to Aiden, brushing his hair off of his face while she lays on the floor of Elsa’s house with him so that they can play with all of the toys he has scattered across the ground. Aiden’s taken quite a liking to her, which is good considering his fondness for only liking people he knows. “You remind me so much of Leo.”

Aiden runs one of his trucks over Emma’s stomach, and she doesn’t even care, laying out on the ground and making Aiden giggle with all of her theatrics.

“If anything, I think I’m going to keep you around to entertain my kid,” Elsa laughs, settling down next to him on the couch and handing him the tea she’s been making.

“I mean, I’m being run over by giant trucks right now, so it’s very hard work. I feel like I need a pay raise.” “We’ll negotiate later.” Elsa nudges his shoulder, making him tear his eyes away from where Emma is now tickling Aiden’s stomach, their combined laughter filling the room.

“What?”

“Slow your roll,” Elsa whispers into his ear, squeezing his shoulder.

“What are you on about, lass?”

“You’re thinking about future things,” Elsa continues, and he can feel the blush rising in his face and reaching the tips of his ears. He is thinking about future things, has been all weekend, but watching Emma with Aiden is filling him with more thoughts than it should. One day at a time. They take things one day at a time, maybe a few weeks at a time, but they’re not thinking years ahead. He’s thinking years ahead. “I can see all of the gears turning in your head, see the way you’re making all of these plans.”

“I am not.” “You are.” She rubs her hand up and down his arm while he takes a sip of his tea, letting the warm liquid wash down. “And I’m so happy for you, but you gotta take the baby steps before you take the running leaps.”

He hums, knowing that she’s telling the truth. Honestly, though, even with all of his thoughts about the future, he knows this. He’s not looking to do anything that he’s not ready for. He’s not looking to do anything that Emma’s not ready for.

“Thank you for your all-knowing advice, oh wise one.”

“Shut up,” she groans, slapping his shoulder before pulling back and picking up her tea from the coffee table and drinking it. “Emma, let me know when you’re tired of fooling with him, and I’ll pull Liam out of his office so that the three of us don’t have to have him constantly in our sights.” “Are we talking about Aiden or Killian here?”

Elsa giggles beside him, blinking down into her cup all the while he feels the tips of his ears heat again. “Sweetheart,” he sweetly begins, “I will leave you here and change the gate code at the house if this is how things are going to be.”

“Hmm,” Emma mumbles, pulling Aiden up to stand on her stomach, “I think I’ll just stay here. I feel like Aiden will gladly share his room with me. He’s much cuter than you too.”

“This is so true.”

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles into his cup. “I’ve made a mistake introducing the two of you. This is not nearly as entertaining as when we’re all ganging up on Liam.” “That’s because Liam is much more fun to make fun of,” Elsa laughs, having to wipe the corners of her eyes. “He gets much more flustered than you, which is saying something.”

They stay over at Liam and Elsa’s while the storm rains itself out, coating the city in water that it probably desperately needed, especially with the summer heat taking full effect. It’s nice listening to the steady rhythm of the rain beating against the house, watching it fall down through the floor-to-ceiling windows they have leading out to the backyard, and while he had no intention of staying here all day, it’s exactly what happens. Emma falls asleep in a recliner, a blanket pulled up around her legs and Aiden snuggled into her chest, while he and Elsa watch TV and eat food, catching up on everything they’ve missed while Liam finally leaves his office and joins them.

It’s one of those days where you know it’s good while it’s happening, and even though Emma wanted to spend time out at the beach while she was out here, he doesn’t think that the rain has been a bad thing.

It’s actually been a good one.

Really good.

Last week, ex-Guns N' Roses guitar slinger IZZY STRADLIN' gave PAUL ELLIOTT exclusive details of exactly what went down with his shock departure from the former Most Dangerous Band in The World. In part two this week, Izzy previews his Stones-influenced upcoming debut solo LP 'Ju Ju Hounds', and reveals that yes, he DID almostjoin forces with this week's K!cover stars The Black Crowes!... By Paul Elliott Kerrang! Magazine - Sept. 1992 "...And that goes for all you punks in the press / That want to start shit by printin' lies / Instead of the things we said / That means you, Andy Secherat Hit Parader, Circus magazine, Mick Wall at Kerrang!, Bob Guccione Jr at Spin..." - 'Get In The Ring', Guns N' Roses Although Mick Wall no longer works for Kerrang!, Axl Rose's anger at the publication has not abated. Guns N' Roses' outspoken frontman routinely bitches about Kerrang! when the band play in London, Presumably, the root of the problem was a feature of Wall's on the Rock In Rio festival in which he accused GN'R of aloofness. Kerrang!gave Guns N' Roses their first British magazine cover in 1987, but Rose chooses to remember only one comment from one journalist. And that, it seems, is the bunker mentality behind the Guns N' Roses/Kerrang!/'Get In The Fucking Ring' feud. Former GN'R guitarist Izzy Stradlin' is equally bemused by it all. "I just write songs," he shrugs, grinning. "I honestly don't know what that was about or what was said. Axl was mad at Kerrang!, right? There were so many things that pissed him off..." It's said that Bob Guccione Jr, editor of US rock periodical Spin, was baited by Rose on 'Get In The Ring' simply because Spinprinted the contract which Guns N' Roses attempted to force on all journalists interviewing the band. The contract sought to censor the press. "I didn't even know about this contract," Izzy protests, "so when I heard Axl was mad about it, I was going, 'What?'! "If I were a journalist I'd probably just tell somebody to shove it up their ass too, cos I guess that'd be like somebody telling a musician how to write a song. "I wasn't aware that Mick Wall was one of the guys in that song. The only one I knew about was Guccione. I was sitting back in Indiana watching MTV and I saw that thing about Axl challenging him to go fight, and Bob said, 'Okay'. And I didn't hear anything else about it! "Axl's real critical of himself, and his anger seems to propel him in a lotta ways. That song 'Get In The Ring', I really love a lot of the lyrics just cos they're really aggressive. Axl played guitar on that track as well, that was the first time I saw him play electric guitar, and he did pretty well. I was digging it cos it was good punk energy. But with all the names at the end I was thinking, shit! I wouldn't have slagged people off on my record." - Izzy's Record, his first since quitting Guns N' Roses, is titled 'Ju Ju Hounds' and is as cool a rock 'n' roll record as anyone has made in the last 10 years. Like The Black Crows', Izzy's music is simple, intuitive, soulful. Both he and the Crowes have covered reggae standards, but where the latter play a lot of blues, Izzy's more of a punk. Axl calls 'Ju Ju Hounds' "Izzy's Keith Richards thing", which is as good a description as any. Izzy's LP has the same lazy charm as Keef's 'Talk Is Cheap'. "I read what Axl said," nods Izzy. "I think Keith Richards is great, but I don't think he has any songs that play as fast as 'Pressure Drop' (Izzy's souped-up cover of the Toots and The Maytals classic, also recorded by The Clash). I wish he would - It'd be great to hear him do that. "I called Keith last week; he was in the studio. I'm gonna try and hook up with him in New York sometime. There's a part of me that wants to take a tape of my record along and play it for him, and there's another part that's going, 'Fuck it, I'll just say hi and listen to his record'." Izzy's such a big Stones fan, there's still disbelief in his voice when he speaks of his friendship with Keef and fellow Stone Ron Wood, who guested on 'Ju Ju Hounds'. "We got together with Woody in LA. We did an old song of his called 'Take A Look At The Guy'." - A Stones CD plays as Izzy talks. The album is 'Black And Blue', one of the Stones' most laid back and most underrated works, featuring classic heartbreakers 'Fool To Cry' and 'Memory Motel'. plus the reggae number 'Cherry Oh Baby', covered by UB40. "I got into reggae partly through the Stones," says Izzy. "I guess it just bled over from stuff like 'Black And Blue' - it's killer. The thing I love about reggae is that it's not technical music where things are perfect; it's very freeform, just a groove. You can lay on a beach or a couch and just absorb it It slows down your heartbeat too, those drum beats and the slow pulse of the bass. It's like a tranquilizer. " 'Pressure Drop' is in this great movie called 'The Harder They Come', starring Jimmy Cliff as a ghetto kid who goes big time with guns; he shoots his way to the top. It's really cool. "There's an energy about 'Pressure Drop' that I love, the rock-steady rhythm. It's very loose, but at the same time it gets the point across." - Guesting on 'Pressure Drop' and on 'Can't Hear 'Em' (a reggae number of Stradlin's which features on the 'Pressure Drop' EP released this week, a month before the LP) is reggae star Mikey Dread, who worked with The Clash on their 'Sandinista' LP. Izzy met Mikey through bassist Jimmy 'Two Fingers' Ashhurst. "Jimmy saw Mikey play in Chicago and got hold of him the next morning. It turned out he was in the hotel right across the street from the studio we were using. We were just gonna do one song dub, but we ended up recording four songs with Mikey, for him. Jimmy and I played bass and guitar on them. Mikey did his rap thing on 'Can't Hear 'Em' and I think he sang some backups on 'Pressure Drop'. His guitar player did a reggae rhythm, real quiet, just a plunky, straight-through thing." Was Mikey surprised that a former member of GN'R loves and can play reggae? "I don't know but it was a trip working with those guys. Mikey had worked with The Clash before, so he must've been familiar with our style." So he didn't think that the way you speeded up 'Pressure Drop' was sacrilegious? Izzy smiles, "His first comment was, 'Y'know, man, this was a big hit in England'. I'm supposed to look him up when I get to New York. He's gonna take us to some place to get us some suits made - they do 'em overnight." - The whole of the 'Pressure Drop' EP has a raw feel evocative of Guns N' Roses' debut EP 'Live Like A Suicide'. 'Came Unglued' is as fast and lean as the obscure GN'R tune 'Shadow Of Your Love', while 'Been A Fix' has the hangdog vocals and fuck-off riff of late '70s Stones (it's also reminiscent of Aerosmith's 'I Wanna Know Why'). "Basically, I just wanted to get back to what really gets me off, just a basic rock 'n' roll band, a couple guitars, drums and bass. Simple. "The album's better, I would think, it's more mixed. The EP's just got three slammers on it, and a reggae song. The album's got a couple of acoustic songs, a coupla slammers, some basic rock tunes and one reggae song too. "The title of the LP came by accident in the studio. I was singing a backing track to something, and when I played it back it sounded like I said, 'Ju ju hound'. It doesn't mean much really." - Before Izzy began recording his album and EP, his name was linked with The Black Crowes, who at the time had not announced a replacement for Jeff Cease. So was he offered the gig? "I don't think so," Izzy shrugs. "When I left LA after I split from GN'R, I went on a road trip to New Orleans. From there I called my brother and he told me I'd got a fax from Rich in The Black Crowes. I had no idea their guitar player had split. "I stopped by Rich's home and he said, 'Maybe we should get together and write some songs'. I said, 'Let me take my stuff back to Indiana and get my house in order'. I love The Black Crowes, but because it was immediately after GN'R, I don't think I was ready to make any quick moves. I thought I'd just go and ride trials for a while. "I just wasn't interested in playing guitar at that time. I don't think I touched a guitar for about a month. I was getting off on riding, but, it got cold, Winter came, and I was sitting in a room with a guitar in the corner and it's like, 'C'mon, play me'! Once I started playing again I thought, this is the one thing that seems to make sense. "I started putting a band together in January. I was sitting in Indiana thinking, fuck, man, how do I find musicians? I couldn't just run an ad in the local trade paper. You wanna find somebody you can relate to, and the guys I got are all seasoned, proven. "I hooked up with Jimmy in LA. I'd known him for years, when he was in The Broken Homes. Once we'd got a drummer, Charlie Quintana, we'd recorded these basic tracks, so I asked Jimmy what Rick Richards from the Georgia Satellites was doing. Jimmy told me the Satellites broke up. This is how outta touch I am! "Rick's playing is so natural. I'll just throw out a coupla chords and he'll bounce stuff of it. He knows how to make it work." - Album and EP feature a number of guest musicians, including backing singers the Waters Sisters, who lift the chorus of 'Can't Hear 'Em' in much the same way that the I-Threes sweeten classic Bob Marley tracks like 'Could You Be Loved'. Barbara and Joy Richardson do likewise on The Black Crowes' 'The Southern Harmony And Musical Companion'. "The Water Sisters did 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door' for GN'R. Man, they can sing," Izzy adds with a smile, "but I can't see us going out on tour like that. I think we'll keep it real simple." Izzy's keeping everything simple these days. Guns N' Roses are no longer The Most Dangerous Band In The World, but they'll never be free of the controversy and all that bullshit. Stradlin' is, and he's happier for it. Simply, he's happy just to be back playing rock 'n' roll. It's all he ever wanted to do anyway.

The Voltron Paper - No. 58,436 (1,784)

FEATURE STORY A breakdown of the relationship that has caught everyone’s attention

PAIRING: Keith/Lance

RATING: teen and up audiences

TAGS: alternate universe, lifeguard lance, journalist keith, surfer keith, pov outsider, newspaper article, (partially), mentioned allura, minor adam/shiro, (those two are very very minor), fluff, getting together

read on AO3 or under the cut

CATCHING… LOVE?

Romance in the waters

Locals have been flocking down to Altea beach like seagulls to a packet of hot chips recently. Why? Well, it’s not because of the alluring ocean, nor the beautiful juniberry flowers which have just bloomed. It’s not even because Unilu, who sells trinkets at the pier, has stopped driving a hard bargain! (Alright, that last one’s a lie. Sorry folks. I was hoping if I published this it would force him to lower his prices. I’ll get you some day!)

Do you know what it is yet? Here’s a clue: it involves our star lifeguard Lance, and a brooding newcomer named—

“—Keith. My name is Keith,” he repeated for the nth time, exasperated. Keith didn’t want this job, he didn’t want to be stuck under the blazing sun, with people everywhere. There was a reason why he started doing this—so he could work in a more serene environment. Except, the person in front of him, who was glued to a pair of binoculars, barely paying him any attention, said he couldn’t leave his post, not even for an hour. And thus, here he was.

He would admit, though, that Lance’s dedication to his work was admirable. In fact, it was why he was here (aside from the ‘can’t abandon my people’ thing). Lance completed a massive rescue during a particularly nasty rip a few days back, and Keith was here to interview him. He was just about to try and ask his question, again, when Lance exclaimed—

Bingo! That’s right. The pair are such a spectacle, people want to see them banter and flirt!  No one would’ve imagined this at the start; when Keith first came down to this lovely area, he didn’t get along with Lance at all! He was pictured storming off in frustration after day three! There were actually concerns raised about their dynamic, and the impact it may have on the beach.

“Oh definitely,” head lifeguard Allura told me. “We were afraid they’d scuffle and cause a scene! We hadn’t had a fight in a while, and wanted to keep it that way.”

Long-time beachgoer Shiro gave a statement too, remarking, “I reckon they’re just young blokes whose personalities clash a bit. Naturally, this’ll result in some tension between them.”

Fiancé Adam then added, “Yep, tension, if you know what I mean,” waggling his eyebrows. Shiro simply rolled his eyes lovingly, and Adam chuckled, then kissed Shiro on the cheek.

(Doesn’t that sound cute? But seriously, I was still there, guys! I also asked Shiro if he would formally be joining the lifeguard team any time soon, but he said he had to focus on the wedding first. Look out for a piece on that as well!)

Before long though, the two seemed to soften up around each other. The rumour is that they spent Lance’s lunch breaks up in the tower together, and I wonder—

“—do you ever get frustrated that people don’t listen?” It was a lot easier to talk with Lance now. Keith wasn’t sure how the change came about, but he welcomed it. And he wasn’t asking this question for the sake of his interview. Sure, it might be included, but most of their conversations were off record, a chance for them to get to know each other. Keith wanted to see if Lance was the same person he appeared to be on the shores. (He wasn’t, and Keith decided he liked this version of Lance most—the one who talked sincerely with genuine passion, the one who held Keith’s gaze steady, but not as a challenge.)

“For sure. Something I don’t get is why they don’t read the signs. It’s fine if they can’t comprehend the words, the language barrier isn’t on them, but look at the pictures, you know? I’d think that a big red cross would be universal for ‘NO’, but nope, they’re ignored all the time.”

Keith nodded, chuckling. He’d helped save people before too, and remembered thinking this after becoming frustrated that people kept wandering into the ‘dangerous currents’ zone.

“Any message you’d like to give them?”

“Yeah, look. All I have to say is just listen to us when we tell you something. We don’t say things lightly, nor do we do things willy-nilly.”

“Well, what do you like to do outside the job?” This question was in no way related to work, and Keith knew Lance knew it. There was no surprise on his face though, however Keith did see the glimpse of a smirk.

“I’m here even when I’m not working, I reckon. Sometimes I’ll just go for a swim, other times I’ll take my board out for a ride. I have a day off soon, maybe you could join me in the water? I’ll show you a few beginner’s tips and tricks.”

“Sounds great.” There were some things Keith wanted to show Lance too. “Back to the previous story though, I bet—"    

—they behaved differently behind closed doors, out of the public’s eye. Their demeanours outside certainly didn’t change. In fact, their rivalry seemed to reach its peak when Keith revealed he was a pro surfer!

Lance had been sitting on his board, gesturing at Keith, probably trying to teach him the basics. What he didn’t know was that Keith was pretending to be a novice. He pulled it off well, I must say. Looking timid while paddling out, toppling from his board before he could even stand up—he had it all down. Lance could be seen laughing at him, while Keith clung onto his board, scowling.

Keith got the last laugh though. As a big wave came in, Lance prepared to surf it, and after getting up, looked around to show Keith, only to realise he was right next to him! Keith’s smirk could be seen from miles away, and the shock caused Lance to topple right off his board and into the water.

They seemed to have a conversation out at sea, wherein Lance gasped and flailed his arms. Keith just smiled. Then, they got back to surfing. Later, they told onlookers it was a competition, but I think we all knew otherwise.

The two of them looked like one with the other, and with the water, out there. They performed various tricks and manoeuvres, but moving in sync, subconsciously coordinating their moves. It was a show, honestly.

And surely, if we experienced all of this just watching them, there was no way they didn’t felt the chemistry too, right? Well, despite knowing this, as they came back to shore, something happened that surprised us all.

They were holding hands. Keith was holding hands with Lance. Of all the crazy things that just happened, he’d argue this was at the top. He wasn’t sure why. It could be due to the fact there was a crowd in front of them (who were cheering?), but also because it was so… soft. It wasn’t really like them, he thought. Their dynamic had never been this muted. The events leading up to this certainly weren’t.

After Lance got himself back onto his board following the fall, he directed a very angry and confused expression at Keith.

“What the heck was that?”

Keith couldn’t help but laugh. It didn’t quell Lance. When he revealed that he was a former professional surfer, Lance’s eyes widened.

“Alright then; show me your moves, Mr Pro.”

And of course Keith took the bait.

Once they took to the water together though, it didn’t feel like showing off. It felt like they were creating something; collaborating; communicating with something other than words. Keith had never felt like this riding waves before, and he knew it was the same for Lance.

After finishing their… thing (courtship display, Lance would call it), as they headed back to shore, Lance confessed.

“I really like you, and I think you’re amazing, and I hope I’m not under the wrong impression that—”

“I like you back,” Keith completed for him.

“Yeah.” Lance watched him with nervous eyes. Keith didn’t realise why until a beat passed.

“No, I like you back.”

“Oh!” Lance brightened up instantly. “Does this mean you’ll hang around? Because you mentioned something about wanting out from the bustle before…”

Keith didn’t take long to think about it, “Yeah.” He stopped consider it again, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ve missed this.” Keith gestured around them with an arm, where they were surrounded by ocean and sky blues. He then looked into Lance’s eyes, also blue.

“You could take up the lifeguard gig too.”

“Yeah? I bet I could pull off more rescues than you.”

Lance scoffed. “Fat chance.”

Keith paddled towards Lance, then leaned in close, hovering before his mouth. Lance got the message, closing his eyes, except Keith swiped at his hands, making him slip and fall. Keith ‘rescued’ him, grabbing his hand after he resurfaced. Before pulling him up though, he got close again, said, “Yeah?”, then finally kissed him. It tasted like the ocean—salty, but also familiar.

Keith glanced over at Lance now, who gave him a small, tender smile, and he couldn’t help but return it. He decided that this was nice. It was new, but hey, surfing had been that to him once too. As for—

—the rest, well, as they say: it’s history.

But it’s not over yet! I have some very exclusive comments from the pair themselves to close the article. (Be warned, they’re very sweet.)

“I will admit I didn’t like him at first. He seemed so serious and hot-headed. But as we talked, I realised that he really wasn’t like that at all. Okay, he still got angry easily, but it started being kind of hot, you know? Especially when it was directed towards those I couldn’t express my own frustration at, since I was on duty. Anyways, he’s a pretty funny guy, and surprisingly expressive. Also, tactile. Haha, don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite. You’re not fooling anyone, babe! Ah, look at his blush. So cute.”

“Yes. No. What kind of question is that? Fine. I came here as a journalist, but I won’t be leaving as one. No, Lance, I’m not saying my occupation is ‘Lance’s boyfriend’. Um, well, I guess I started to fall for him once I saw how passionate he was about his work. He never loses his temper, and he’s really good with the people. I can see why he’s so well liked. Yeah, you’re very gorgeous. What? You’re the one who said it first! Well, I’m not joking. This guy… We’re going to work on that.”

(Lance and Keith will be surfing together again, be sure to come check it out!)