#this kind of looks like a bunch of celebs but I promise I wasn’t even referencing any actors Alec is just that gorgeous ig????

[fics-of-my-mind]

Trust - Chapter XIV.

'Patience, Dear,' Nick chuckled, but his voice was much deeper than before, full of desire.

'I need you- I-,'

'And you'll get me. But no rush. I plan on savoring every moment of this night given that I've been waiting for so long.'

'Nick-'

'There is one rule, though, that I want you to keep tonight,' he continued, dismissing my desperation, his tongue drawing circles on my skin, just above the line of my panties between every word, while his hands were caressing my behind and my thighs.

I was kind of in awe of him for being able to keep his cool, even though he must've been just as desperate as I was. Even in this state he treasured the control he had over me, and wouldn't give it up for anything.

'What?' I groaned, not feeling the mood to keep up with his rules, not tonight, not right before I actually had the chance to have him fully.

'No holding back,' he announced, then he started sucking on my skin. I felt like I was going to explode right away. He was so close to where I wanted him the most, his fingers making their way up to the white lace, hoovering just above my most sensitive part, yet he wouldn't give it to me, not yet. 'I want you to come as many times as you can.'

Warnings: mature content, BDSM content Pairing: Nick Jonas / Other Female Character This fanfiction can also be found on Wattpad by fnntth

I don’t own Nick Jonas or any other recognizable characters. This fanfiction is completely fictional, its only purpose is entertainment.

Chapter XIV. - Oh I'm not playing any games tonight

It didn't really take me long to forget everything that happened in the bathroom. Two gin and tonics later, when Nick found me, the moment he placed his hand on my waist, guiding me towards the entrance, my mind was once again only concentrated on him, and the wetness between my legs.

Maybe Demi was right and he was going to break my heart, but I didn't care at the moment, not at all. The only thing on my mind was that this is it, we were finally going to sleep together.

After gathering our phones, we got into a black car, and started heading somewhere, I guessed that my apartment. Nick was holding onto my hand through the whole ride, but he didn't look at me, keeping his glance on the outside world. I'm sure that it was only to drive me even crazier.

I just wasn't able to calm down. My mind, my body, my whole being was constantly focused on him and nothing else. The way his fingers skinned my hand, the fact that he was extremely close, the dirty thoughts about wanting to hop onto his lap... it was all too much.

'We should talk about a few... technical things,' Nick announced unexpectedly somewhere midway.

'Now?' I asked, raising my eyebrow. I did not want to talk, not now, not so close to finally doing what I've only been dreaming about so far.

'Now,' he nodded, his handsome face strict and serious. 'The minute we are behind closed doors... I don't think I'm going to be able to keep my hands off you for a second.' I swallowed, looking at him, my insides warming just from the promise in his voice.

'What do you want to talk about?' I asked, swallowing, as Nick took one of my hands in his.

'When things get intense - not specifically tonight, but whenever,' he started, lowering his voice so the driver couldn't hear it. 'I want you to have a safe word. Have you thought about that?'

'Yes,' I nodded immediately. We've touched on the topic a few days ago, Nick just out of nowhere telling me to start thinking about a safe word that I'm comfortable using. It was surprisingly challenging. 'I did come up with a word that I think is great.'

'What is it?' Nick asked, his voice full of interest.

'Light,' I said, biting my lip. 'Your first words to me back in Barcelona were 'Do you need light?', and it's just-'

'It's perfect,' he nodded, his eyes darkening a bit. 'Whenever you don't feel comfortable with what's happening, even if it's just a slight discomfort, I want you to use that word and I stop immediately, okay? No hard feelings, no consequences, we'll just stop. Promise me that you'll use it when you need it, Milla.'

'I promise,' I nodded, looking deeply into Nick's eyes, even though I was sure I'd avoid using that word for however long I could. I just didn't want to say it, I trusted Nick that he won't do anything I'd feel uncomfortable with.

'Now the other thing,' he started, still holding my hand. 'Protection. I know that you haven't been sexually active lately, so I guess-'

'When I first saw you in the club,' I started, cutting into his words. I could feel the redness making its way onto my cheeks, and I had to turn my eyes away from him. I don't know why I felt embarrassed about this, but I did. 'I went and got a prescription. I've been on the pill for the last few weeks.'

'Oh.' Was all Nick said at first, but he raised his free hand to my cheek, making our eyes connect once again. His dark brown orbs were glistering in the semi-darkness as he looked at me. 'Why?'

'I don't know-, I guess just the idea of us being in the same city and having a bigger chance at this happening,' I started, gesturing between us with my fingers. 'I just hated the idea of if it ever comes to sex, there would still have to be a little piece of rubber keeping us apart.'

My whole face was flushed at this point, but as much as I wanted to turn my glance away, Nick wouldn't let me.

'You know I'm usually a 'no glove, no fun' guy... But honestly, it was making me feel crazy, the thought of not being able to fully feel you around me,' he said, chuckling a little. 'So I adore you for thinking ahead.'

He pulled me closer, connecting our lips, but not deepening the kiss this time.

The rest of the car ride went like a blur.

I was pretty surprised when about twenty minutes later the car stopped somewhere in Downtown LA, in front of a pretty tall apartment building.

'Where are we?' I asked Nick.

'Joe and I used to live here together. Never sold the apartment, we kept it for occasions when, for example we were too drunk to make our way home, or we needed some alone time. In the past few years we only used it for writing,' he explained before getting out of the car and holding the door open for me.

I didn't even remember the ride upstairs, all I could concentrate on was Nick's hand laced through mine. We were in public – at least public enough that a bunch of people could see us, including the doorman and a few residents – yet Nick wouldn't let me go, not even when I tried pulling away when a woman stepped into the elevator with us.

He knew I was frustrated and he was enjoying it way too much, the smirk on his face told me. Little fucker, I didn't know what his game was.

The apartment was beautiful, I found myself in complete awe. It wasn't unnecessarily big, like most A-list celeb's properties, the living area had huge floor to ceiling windows with a view to downtown LA, there was a comfortable looking white couch in the middle and also a beautiful piano, something I'm sure Nick spent a lot of time with.

Black and white dominated in the place, both in furniture and accessories. There was a huge dining table separating the living area from the kitchen, which was also beautiful, with black build-in counters. Nick didn't turn on the light, only the built-in fireplace, so the whole room was in semi-darkness. Still, it was beautiful.

Not even looking back to see if Nick was following me, I walked to the huge windows, the view taking my breath away. It was like one of those apartments that I've only seen in movies before, since in my country skyscrapers and floor to ceiling windows in apartment buildings weren't really a thing.

'So beautiful,' I said, taking in all of the lights of the city, the traffic, the moon.

'Yes, it is,' Nick replied, standing a few steps behind me. I could feel his gaze on the back of my head, and something told me, he wasn't necessarily talking about the city lights.

I took a deep breath before turning around and finally facing him. Nick's eyes were darker than usual, almost black as they glistered in the semi-darkness of the room. There wasn't much light, only the moon and the lights of the city brightened somewhat the otherwise dark apartment.

Nick looked amazing, the semi-darkness giving his handsome face a rough edge, making him all mysterious. His lips were inviting as they slightly parted, and I could barely look away from them.

This was it.

The way his intense gaze imprisoned mine, it made my breath get caught in my throat. Thousands of emotions filled my heart as his darkened orbs slid to my lips for a moment, then back to my eyes. The minute of longing for each other seemed extremely long, yet equally exciting and arousing. Then, Nick got bored of just looking and finally closed the distance between us.

This kiss was not a bit gentle or innocent. Everything was in it: the months of waiting, of not crossing the line, to the freedom of us finally being able to do whatever we wanted to do with each other. The extremely deep feelings we've grown for each other, the need of touching, of owning the other, the hunger that would've eaten us if we had to wait any longer.

Nick's fingers pushed into the skin of my waist roughly, definitely leaving a mark, which just made me pull him closer by the back of his head even harder. He didn't really ask for permission with his tongue, not that he had to, he could do whatever he pleased with me. He was everywhere, his unique minty scent in my nose, his sweet taste in my mouth, his hands all around my body: on my waist, ass, thighs, hair.

Finally being this close to him, I couldn't hold myself back. It's been a long while since I've had sex in the first place, and it seemed like an eternity since I've been longing for him. My hands tried gripping onto his hair, pulling on it not a bit gently as Nick let me catch my breath and let go of my lips, yet started pampering my neck with kisses.

I couldn't hold back a moan, when he started sucking on the thin skin of my neck, just above my vein, my nails digging into his upper arm when he bit down, definitely marking me with bruises. It was all so sexy.

I was the first one to start to undress him, as I pushed the material of his jacket off his shoulders. I needed to feel Nick, I needed his skin on mine. My fingers were trembling from the desire, but I only got to unbutton two of the buttons on his shirt when he pushed my hands away. I looked at Nick with a confused expression on my face, but he didn't feel the need to say anything. He unzipped my dress without ever turning me around or even looking, his lips making their way to my shoulders which gave me massive goosebumps.

When he smoothed my dress to the ground, he pulled away a bit, eyeing my body up and down, his eyes engorging a bit as he took in my white, lacy bra and panties set. I choose this on purpose, the memory of our talk about lingerie was still vividly in my head. His eyes were full of lust, and he ran his hands from my waist to the side of my chest, his palms resting on my ribcage on both sides, while his fingers grazing the lace of the white bra.

'I'm truly intrigued,' Nick mumbled, still not turning his gaze away from my body. The feeling of being shy or embarrassed didn't find me this time, and I didn't even flinch when he pulled me closer so our lower bodies were touching and I could definitely feel his excitement against my abdomen. 'So pure. And all for me.'

I swallowed, suddenly feeling the urge of proving him that I'm not that innocent. Unexperienced, sure, but innocent? No. Nick, the Nick in his right mind knew this, but this Nick, the man of lust didn't care. He saw me as pure, which made me feel slight embarrassment and extreme happiness at the same time, I couldn't perfectly describe it.

Running a hand to his chin, I made him look into my eyes, and felt myself become even more overwhelmed by all of the things I felt and that I saw in Nick's dark orbs. This time I was the one to connect our lips, kissing him heatedly, while my fingers returned to unbuttoning his shirt and finally succeeding. When our hot skin finally touched, Nick groaned and I softly bit his lower lip. I could feel his smirk, but didn't say anything, just ran my fingers down to his chest and back, exploring every inch of him.

Suddenly it wasn't enough. I needed Nick, wanted him so hard that I've never felt anything like this in my whole life. The kiss grew much more desperate as there was even less keeping our parts from touching. Just as I slipped my fingers into the buckle of his leather belt, Nick pushed my hands away once more.

'Nick,' I moaned into his mouth. Nick just smirked, holding my wrists in one hand, while unclasping my bra with the other. He kissed down from my lips along the side of my neck to my breasts, running his tongue down between them. When his lips found my left nipple, I moaned, my body arching against him. His hand never left my right breast, playing with my nipple, pulling it, squeezing it. The tingling between my legs was getting worse, I could feel myself dripping. I needed Nick not to just play with my body, but finally touch me where I wanted him the most.

He pushed me against the huge floor to ceiling window, his lips never leaving my chest area. The cold of the glass and the hotness of our bodies made me shiver - or was it the sea of emotions making goosebumps reappear on my skin? Nick continued his journey, his lips kissing downwards from my breasts, along my stomach, as he lowered himself onto his knees.

Seeing Nick kneeling in front of me, looking up cheekily, with a very promising glance made me want to crawl out of my skin. I felt like nothing was enough, not until we were fully united, until there was nothing between us. I groaned, my hands running into his hair as Nick carefully lifted each of my legs and made me step out of the heels I didn't even remember were still on.

I felt such love for him, I almost said it out loud, even though my mind successfully stopped me. I couldn't say it, not yet anyways. There was this pride in me, wanting to hear him say it first.

When he broke our gaze and softly kissed my abdomen, I moaned quite loudly.

'Patience, Dear,' Nick chuckled, but his voice was much deeper than before, full of desire.

'I need you- I-,'

'And you'll get me. But no rush. I plan on savoring every moment of this night given that I've been waiting for so long.'

'Nick-'

'There is one rule, though, that I want you to keep tonight,' he continued, dismissing my desperation, his tongue drawing circles on my skin, just above the line of my panties between every word, while his hands were caressing my behind and my thighs.

I was kind of in awe of him for being able to keep his cool, even though he must've been just as desperate as I was. Even in this state he treasured the control he had over me, and wouldn't give it up for anything.

'What?' I groaned, not feeling the mood to keep up with his rules, not tonight, not right before I actually had the chance to have him fully.

'No holding back,' he announced, then he started sucking on my skin. I felt like I was going to explode right away. He was so close to where I wanted him the most, his fingers making their way up to the white lace, hoovering just above my most sensitive part, yet he wouldn't give it to me, not yet. 'I want you to come as many times as you can.'

Before I had the chance to react, his fingers finally pushed against me, touching me through the panties. I knew he could feel how ready I already was for him, the smug smirk on his face spoke for itself. I felt myself go crazy, the sensations of Nick's fingers moving against my panties, creating friction. If the window wasn't pressed against my back, I'm sure that my legs would've given out. I tried to move my hips, so his fingers would press harder, but Nick's other hand found my waist and pushed my body back, keeping me in place with force. I moaned desperately. His lips lowered, avoiding the textile and founding their way to my thighs, kissing them, biting them.

I moaned his name as he lifted one of my legs, placing it on his shoulder, so he could continue his sweet torture on the sensitive inner thighs, meanwhile his fingers were still pressed lightly against my lady parts. Nick wasn't gentle, and I didn't want him to be. When he started sucking harshly on the thin skin of my thighs, marking me there, I felt myself lose my mind completely. I couldn't concentrate on anything else, but the need for him. I was squirming against him, trying to get out of his hold and pressing my body against him harder, but Nick was much stronger, as he kept me from moving around too much.

It seemed like an eternity later when he finally made his way upwards and kissed me through the lingerie, one of his hands making its way to my ass and pulling me towards his face, while the other still pushing on my waist and keeping me from moving too much. I suddenly started regretting the white underwear, Nick seemed to like it way too much, and he still wasn't taking it off of me. I desperately wanted it gone, I wanted to feel his lips directly against my clit.

He did kiss me at least. As his tongue pushed against my panties, tasting me through the lacy material, I needed to take one hand from his hair and use it to keep my stance, trying to find a grip on the glass behind me.

'So sweet,' he mumbled, not moving his head from my sensitive parts, so his words were creating vibrations, making me shiver.

'Nick, please,' I moaned, when he started sucking on my clit hardly. I was a mess, in my right mind I probably would've felt embarrassed, but now I didn't care. The only thing on my mind was Nick and how much I wanted him.

'Since you asked so nicely', he said, and pulled his hand from my behind, moving the thong to the side without taking it off. His hungry lips found my clit immediately, and I'm pretty sure I screamed from the sensation. I was so close. 'So fucking ready for me already,' Nick groaned as he ran a finger along my slit, now feeling my pooling wetness directly. When he inserted a finger into me, I felt my walls clench around him, the feeling of a man touching me last time only being a faded memory for my senses. As his lips returned to my clit and his tongue started drawing circles on it, I could feel myself relax, and clearly so did Nick, since he started rhythmically moving his finger in and out. When he inserted another finger, I saw stars. All the sensations, his fingers moving in and out of me, getting me ready for him, his tongue lapping against my wetness, his lips occasionally sucking on my clit, brought me so close to the edge, that when Nick - very intentionally - curled his fingers inside me, making me feel things I've never really felt before, I exploded.

I don't think I ever had an orgasm so intense. Maybe it was all the waiting, or the fact that it was Nick, pushing me to the land of bliss, maybe just the length of time it's been since I've had any kind of sex with another man... I felt like it lasted for at least two minutes. Nick let me ride every last wave of my orgasm, never pulling away, letting me come down while lapping my juices with his tongue. When eventually he did pull away, my wetness was all evident on his face, and he never looked hotter. I carefully removed my leg from his shoulder, and pulled him up to me by the back of his hair. His hands snaked around my waist as he kissed me, making me taste myself on his lips. His tongue made its way into my mouth, dancing with mine as I ran my fingers through the back of his hair.

'You're so fucking beautiful,' he mumbled against my lips when pulling away to catch his breath. As I came to my senses, I suddenly realized that Nick was still wearing his jeans, and by the hardness pressing against my abdomen, I'm sure it couldn't be comfortable for him.

I ran a hand down to his back, feeling his muscles clench under my fingers, which made me feel hot again instantly. My other hand made his way down his chest, finding his half-undone belt and successfully finishing the job. My lips moved down along his chin, finding his neck, and running my tongue along it. I needed to use both of my hands to unbutton his jeans and pull the zipper down, but when I finally did it, Nick sighed in relief. Without taking it off, I dipped one of my hands in his Calvin Klein boxers, and closed my fingers around his manhood.

He was rock hard and honestly I had no idea how he was still in control of everything. I felt the veins on his shaft throbbing against my palm. I needed to taste him, but as soon as I started lowering myself to the ground, Nick's strong hands caught me by the elbow and stopped me from moving.

'I want to taste you,' I whined pulling my lips from his body so I could look him in the eyes, his cock in my mouth being the main thing on my mind. I told him before how much I liked giving blowjobs, he knew well that I didn't just want to do it because I thought of it as an expectation from me.

'I know, and believe me, I really want your sweet little mouth around me too,' he nodded swallowing as he lowered his gaze to my lips. 'But I also want this to last pretty long and that's just not going to happen with you sucking my dick like a good little whore.' I looked at him for a moment, a little bit taken aback by the rawness of words. I never thought I was one for dirty talk, yet as Nick pronounced the words, they did not feel that dirty at all. They were just something that made the wetness start pooling between my legs once again. Nick waited patiently for my reaction to his words, but when I wasn't cringing or grimacing, he seemed pretty satisfied with himself. I had no idea how he had this restraint, how he wasn't going crazy yet. 'Later, I promise.'

I nodded without thinking, not really seeing a point in arguing with him on this. Instead, I connected our lips again, as Nick took his pants and underwear off, letting it fall on the floor to the pool of our clothes. However, I did not remove my hand from his hard shaft, running it along his length, until the moment he swatted it away after moaning in my mouth.

'Jump.' As much as I felt like opposing, I wasn't in the state to deny anything from Nick, so I just jumped, our naked parts finally pushing against each other, though not in the way I really-really wanted them to.

Walking into one of the bedrooms, he laid me down to the huge bed, our lips not leaving each other for a second. Nick was the only thing on my mind, just like he wanted to be. All I could think about was the heat radiating from his body, the feeling of his stubble under my fingertips, the hairs of his thigh tickling my smooth skin. The need for him stronger and stronger in my lower region. And the way he touched me so possessively, yet so gently that made my heart throb for him even more.

He lowered me onto the bed gently, then while he was kneeling on the mattress, pulled back, looking down onto me, examining every part of my body. I should've felt insecure, or awkward, yet I didn't even try to cover up my not so beautiful parts.

It was like my subconscious trusted Nick so much that it didn't see the need to feel shame at all. Like I was giving myself to him fully, completely on a whole new physical and psychological level.

Nick's dark orbs ran along my body, exploring every inch, every curve. He wasn't touching me at all, yet I felt like he was crawling inside of me. As much as I used to hate certain parts, like the lines on my sides or my way too wide thighs, even my larger than normal breasts, as Nick's eyes were glistering with lust while examining them, I instantly found myself growing a newfound liking for those parts.

I tried to read his eyes as he was towering over me, they were quite talkative. They were full of lust, need, contempt, and a few other emotions that I couldn't put my finger on.

I mirrored his actions, looking down on his body that I still found amazing. He was exactly like I've wanted my man muscular but not too much, hairy but not too much.

'Nick...' I moaned, suddenly reminded of my need for him as his eyes dropped to between my legs. Nick shook his head, like he was shaken out of trans, then he immediately leaned down above me, connecting our lips once again.

I kissed him hungrily, my hands crawling onto his shoulder muscles, pulling him as close as possible. Meanwhile he pushed one of his thighs upwards, rubbing it against my heat and making me immediately moan against his lips. He made me feel such lust and need that I've never felt before. My skin was burning everywhere we touched and every other part of me felt cold compared to it. I was going crazy, not being able to concentrate on anything else but him, his body pushed against mine, his hand on my breast, his lips sucking on the skin of my neck.

I wanted him inside of me, needed him inside of me. He was right, these past weeks made me even crazier, my longing for him got worse, all I could concentrate was the things he was doing to my body and mind.

My breath got caught in my throat as Nick rubbed his thigh against my sensitive parts even harder. I was sure that my wetness was all over him, not that he seemed to mind it at all. As I unintentionally pushed my nails into his muscular back, scratching his skin, Nick groaned, biting my neck just above my vein, making me gasp.

'Hands above your head,' he said, and the authority was evident in his voice even in his current state. As much as I hated letting go of him, I did exactly as he commanded, raising both of my hands above my head and trying to find a hold on the silk sheets.

Nick seemed satisfied as he returned to sucking onto my neck and making me moan in need for him. I could feel the smirk ok his face as he kissed down to my chest, replacing his hand on my hard nipple with his lips. As his teeth grazed the sensitive buds, I felt like I was going crazy.

I was a moaning mess by that point, and I was grateful that nobody but Nick could hear me. As his fingers pushed against my clit again, my body tensed against him and I couldn't stop my hands from finding their way into his hair again.

'Milla,' Nick groaned and pulled away from my breasts, raising his glance to mine. His eyes were clouded, darker than usual, and his expression was clearly unimpressed with my misdemeanor. 'Behave.'

'I can't, I need you,' I whined, not making any effort to remove my hands from his hair. I was hungry for him, for every touch and his now still fingers on my most sensitive part didn't really help. I instinctively ground against him, trying to create some friction to ease my need.

Nick was not happy, his expression was strict and he instantly removed his fingers from between my legs. The desperate whine got caught in my throat in the next moment at the unexpected slap on my ass - a part that he had great access to given that my leg was wrapped around his torso.

I was a bit shocked, my face turned into a frown, but as the sweet burning sensation took over the place of the painful sting, I found myself wanting more. It was turning me on - even though I didn't think that there was more place for me to be turned on. Nick carefully examined my face, waiting for my reaction, but when I reached up to him and reconnected our lips, I could feel him relax against me.

Kissing Nick was like finding myself in a completely different world, where nothing existed but the softness of his lips, his stubble grazing my face and his sweet taste on my tongue. It was easy to forget about everything else and just pulling him as close to me as possible.

I was reminded of his feelings about my disobedience with another sting on my behind, this one even harder than the previous one, making me moan into his mouth.

'Don't make me tie those hands,' he groaned, his voice raspy, full with passion. The next moment he removed my hands from his hair, and held them above my head, this time not letting them go.

'Please Nick,' I moaned, feeling his erection press against my abdomen. I physically didn't feel able to hold on much longer, every inch of my body was burning, and the need concentrated in my core.

Nobody has ever made me feel like this, such a mess, so hungry for pleasure. I really felt like I was going to explode in seconds from all of the feelings, especially if Nick kept on torturing me any longer.

'Please what?' he asked, pulling a bit back, only to be able to look into my eyes. He was enjoying this, I could tell, even if he was just as hungry for me as I was for him.

'I need you,' I moaned, not impressed with our current situation. I tensed against him, as Nick was holding my wrists strongly above my head I wasn't able to touch him. One of my legs was still wrapped around his torso though, but tightening that hold only meant that his hardness would press harder against my abdomen - so close yet so far from where I wanted him to be.

'You need me where?' he asked, and I hated that he was still able to hold onto the control. Nick was enjoying this way too much, he was making me say it out loud.

'Inside of me,' I said, squirming under him, my hard nipples pushing against his chest. 'Please- please fuck me.'

I didn't even care that I was begging to be fucked like a whore. I just needed him and I couldn't think of anything else. The only things I could concentrate was the burn between my legs, his firm hold on my wrists, his chest hairs tickling my breasts and his hard erection pushing against me.

Nick rearranged his pose, so he was keeping my wrists in their place by holding them both in one hand and pulled away with his whole body slightly. Just as I was about to complain, I felt his erection against my clit and I forgot to breathe for a moment.

I raised my head, trying to see our lower parts. Nick didn't push in yet, he was keeping his manhood pushed against my throbbing core, moving it along my slit, making my lower body instinctively squirm against him. He seemed so big against me.

I've seen Nick naked before, I knew that he was blessed with a relatively big size, but somehow it never even crossed my mind that I will need to be able to take his size inside of me. Not that I was worried at all, I was sure that I was so wet and so ready for him that it wouldn't really be a problem. Still, seeing him push against me, making me even more crazy than before, I was just a tiny bit afraid of the pain.

'Eyes on me, Kamilla,' he ordered and I dropped my head back on the mattress, reconnecting our glances. By that point my body was squirming constantly and I couldn't stop myself from fidgeting. 'I want to see you when I take you.'

It was so incredibly hot, his raspy voice, the way he was still in control of not just himself but me too. His eyes were cloudy, and it took a moment for me to recognize the emotion in them: primal thirst. Even though it wasn't possible, I wanted him even more.

'Nick–' I started when he still wouldn't quit teasing, but then a loud moan slipped out of my mouth the moment I felt the stretch as he finally pushed in. I wanted to close my eyes, just until I adjusted, but his gaze held mine captive as he pulled out, then pushed back in again, much deeper this time. My lips parted as my body tensed at the long-felt feeling.

It was like my body didn't know what to feel, so I felt everything at once. The stretching feeling was quite uncomfortable given that it's been a long while since I've had sex, and thanks to Nick's massive size, I'd say that it was even painful at first. At the same time every inch of my body was on fire, I was hungry for him and I wanted him even deeper. I was so close to coming, but still so far, it didn't make sense at all.

I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from wincing as Nick pulled out for the second time, only to fill me up completely a second later. An animalistic groan escaped him, I imagine everything must've been so tight for him. Even though he was waiting for this for months now, and he was just as gone, wanting to come as I was, he stayed completely still.

'Shhh,' he hushed when he felt my body tense against him and placed his free hand onto my waist, drawing small circles on my skin. He leaned his forehead against mine, still looking so deeply into my eyes that I felt like he could see into my soul. 'Are you okay?' he asked, sincerely, and I was sure that if I told him 'no', he'd pull out and wouldn't blame me for a moment, even if it physically pained him.

'Move,' I asked quietly, because even though I was in some pain, the lust for him was much bigger. Nick kept my gaze for a few moments longer, his fingers never stopping their calming movement on my hip. I pulled him closer with my leg still wrapped around his waist, encouraging him to move. He closed the distance between us, connecting our lips and only when I kissed him back hungrily did he start moving.

The first few thrusts were quite painful, but as I grew accustomed to his size stretching me so deeply, the ache for him was back. When his fingers slipped down to my clit from my waist, I couldn't even remember the pain anymore. He knew exactly what he was doing, I was so close to coming that I had to hold myself back.

'Stop doing that.' Of course, he noticed, and that's when I remembered tonight's rule: to come as many times as possible. 'Let go,' he commanded and with the next, particularly deep thrust and his fingers still circling with my clit, I was gone.

I exploded against him, and I could feel my walls pulsing around his manhood, making Nick groan and drop his head to the crook of my neck. I saw stars, I was coming so hard that I even forgot to breathe. Nick never slowed down, he kept his rhythm and let me ride my orgasm out completely, while he – not so softly – bit the side of my shoulder.

'Fuck,' I moaned at the sharp pain, but Nick was way past the state to care. He was marking me as his, and even though I was sure I'd have some difficulties in the next few days to cover up all the marks, they were a huge turn on for me.

The next moment Nick pulled out of me, only to turn me slightly on my side and reenter me again, making me scream at the sensation. He felt even bigger this way, stretching me all the way.

'So fucking deep,' he groaned, one of his hands still holding my wrists in their place, while the other pushing into my thigh to keep me in the pose he wanted. He was close, I could tell. Sweat was beading on his forehead, he was getting a bit sloppy. All that could be heard in the room were my moans, his animalistic groans and our skins slapping against each other.

He took a hard rhythm, not soft at all and he wasn't slowing down. I was whimpering, my lady parts still sensitive from my orgasm, but Nick's rhythmical thrusts made me want even more. Somehow I managed to free my hand, but the moment I touched his upper arm, I was greeted with a sharp sting of his palm against my ass.

The feeling was even more intense with him inside of me, and Nick must've noticed my walls contracting around his shaft as well. He didn't try to get my hand back into its place, rather he spanked me a few more times, getting me close to coming again.

'Nick, I–' I moaned, turning my face so I could kiss him again. He felt it too.

'With me,' he groaned and with the last of his stamina, he sped his thrusts up even more, sending me over the edge a third time that night and following me a moment later with a deep grunt.

I felt him twitching and then filling me up with his everything, which was an unfamiliar, but not unwelcome sensation. With a last thrust Nick collapsed above me, laying his weight on my body completely.

I felt owned. I shouldn't have enjoyed it, I shouldn't have felt good about being marked, about Nick coming inside of me. In my life, I've always been an independent woman, but with him everything was different. The bite marks on my neck, the hickeys on my chest, the palm prints on my ass, the semen running down my legs... It all should've repulsed me, yet they just made me want Nick even more.

It took him a few minutes to gather himself and pull out of me, leaving me feeling empty. He didn't go far though, only to get a cloth and clean us both up a little. Then he laid back beside me and pulled me onto his chest.

'I get it now,' I mumbled against his chest as he ran a hand through my hair.

'Get what, Dear?' he asked quietly. I turned my head to be able to look at his face.

'This is what it's supposed to feel like,' I explained, referring back to one of our old conversations when Nick said that I clearly have never had great sex or I'd know what I'm missing.

'Actually, no,' he shook his head softly. 'This isn't what it's supposed to feel like.'

'What do you mean?' I frowned.

'This was... I never felt anything like this,' Nick admitted. I looked at him for a long moment, then leaned closer in order to connect our lips. So it wasn't just me. 'I don't know what this was, but you and me...' he left the end of the sentence hanging. I could finish it in my head just fine.

...were made for each other.

#Nick Jonas #nick jonas fanfiction #nick jonas fic #nick jonas imagine #nick x reader #jonas brothers fanfiction #jonas brothers imagine #fanfiction

[wellthatwasaletdown]

“It’s a fake article apparently.” The quotes from the parody account are fake, but there is real article about Harry Lambert in The Times.

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/meet-harry-lambert-the-a-lists-secret-style-weapon-8ml3q06jl

Meet Harry Lambert, The A List’s Secret Style Weapon

Whether it’s Harry Styles’s internet‑breaking cardigan or Emma Corrin in head‑to‑toe Miu Miu, he’s the stylist responsible for the hottest celeb looks of the moment. So how did a former River Island shopboy become the man influencing the way we dress today?

In February 2020 Harry Lambert was helping Harry Styles get ready to perform on NBC’s Today show. Lambert, an affable, bright-eyed 34-year-old, had been Styles’s stylist for a good five years by then, helping the One Directioner develop a distinct visual brand — and yet Styles still wasn’t quite sure why Lambert was so insistent that he wear a bright, multicoloured patchwork cardigan by JW Anderson.“I remember him saying, ‘OK, I love it, I just don’t know why we’re wearing it for rehearsals,’” Lambert relays from his east London studio. But the stylist had “a weird feeling”, he says with a little smile. “I was like, ‘Wear it for rehearsal — I promise you.’”The choice of the garment, and the knowledge of when and where to wear it, sums up Lambert’s gifts neatly. Pictures of Styles promptly went viral, so much so that the cardigan became a TikTok craze, with fans trying to replicate the knit at home. By the end of the year the V&A had announced it was buying the original, since it said so much about fashion in 2020. “It makes me a bit giddy, I guess,” says Lambert, to think that this moment he concocted will sit in a national collection for ever.

Right now Lambert can lay claim to being one of the most influential stylists in the world. The Styles collaboration is of course his calling card: a parade of eye-raising and/or mouthwatering outfits that have progressed from a much-memed floral suit at the American Music awards in 2015 to a couple of feather boas at this year’s Grammys and a Gucci women’s handbag at the Brit awards last month. His few other celebrity clients (it’s an elite bunch) include Emma Corrin, who, in the absence of any awards ceremony red carpets to be seen on following her star turn as Princess Diana in The Crown last November, took to Instagram to showcase a series of exciting, adventurous looks; and also her Crown co-star Josh O’Connor. It’s no surprise that, along the way, Lambert has become a name in his own right: his Instagram account boasts more than half a million followers. And to think — the Topman in his hometown of Norwich turned him down for a job as a teenager because “I wasn’t cool enough”, he giggles. He got one instead at River Island, where he was occasionally allowed to style the mannequins in cardigans of a somewhat less avant-garde calibre.Lambert, dressed in shorts, T-shirt and a plaid shirt, is sitting in his whitewashed studio surrounded by clothes racks for each client and mementoes from friends. He was an up-and-coming stylist, with lots of edgy editorial work and a long stint working for Topman’s head office on his CV (the brand did eventually hire him), when industry insiders introduced him to Styles in 2014. The 1D megastar was setting out his solo stall (1D would officially split in 2015) and Lambert brought racks filled with pieces by JW Anderson, Saint Laurent and future long-term collaborator Gucci on the hangers. He got the job the next day.“Harry has always been interested in fashion essentially,” Lambert says. “You could kind of tell already from the way he was dressing and the decisions that he was making with brands. So there’s never been, like, a battle. Everything with Harry is super-collaborative and it’s always been, it sounds cheesy to say, heavenly, but … !”

The two are clearly mates — they call each other Susan and Sue (Lambert is Susan), and a poster from Styles, signed “To Lamby” (his other nickname), has pride of place on Lambert’s desk. From the way he tells it, neither has blinked when it comes to the sexy, campy, gender-twisting work that has made Styles stand out from his peers. Indeed, other boy band veterans — Robbie Williams or Justin Timberlake — never tried anything this visually brave. But Lambert is clear that this isn’t just him dressing a marionette: “I think it’s part of his, you know, part of his character — it’s part of him. I never want it to feel like he’s wearing a costume, I never want to feel like something is wearing him. We’re not doing it for lols — it should feel like part of the performance or part of the whole, you know?”Lambert admits to finding online critique culture overwhelming, but he points out, slightly apologetically, that most them, for him, have been good (no doubt partly thanks to the millions of Styles superfans). “I’m lucky that I have a lot of positive feedback. But when I see something that is negative, you remember that so much more than the positive things. I used to be like, ‘Social media doesn’t bother me,’ but it does kind of f*** with your head.” Still, he’s all for it: “What’s worse — being so boring that nobody talks about you?” As for Corrin, they actually met at a Styles gig and the two became friends before she asked him to work with her for the media blitz for The Crown. “There’s something about her energy that’s just so infectious,” he raves today. Many have loved her appearances in fashion-forward London brands such as Knwls (a stringy black sheer party number, showcased in a lift), or more eccentric insiders like new-era Schiaparelli and Miu Miu. For Lambert, who loves to champion up-and-coming British brands such as Maximilian, SS Daley or his good friend Harris Reed, it was a no-brainer. “There’s a tendency sometimes for young actresses or young talent to make them look older or more ‘mature’. People are trying to hurry them along.” Corrin may be a leading lady already, “but she’s young too, and cool”, he reasons. “We didn’t want it to feel stuffy.”

Being a stylist is a star turn in itself now. In the glory days of the Noughties Rachel Zoe styled the likes of Nicole Richie and Lindsay Lohan in a very Zoe way (big sunglasses, bigger bags, gladiator sandals and anything boho). She has been followed by the likes of Karla Welch, who has put clients such as Tracee Ellis Ross and Elisabeth Moss in considered yet still fashion-forward choices, and the other current hot favourite Law Roach, who earned the respect of the entire world for decking out Céline Dion in Vetements. Lambert’s contribution is to blur not only genders, a bit, but also the distinction between “editorial” (traditionally edgy, fashy) and “red carpet” (which is to say glossy, a bit staid).Lambert finds most red-carpet dressing fearsomely dull, to be clear: “I really cannot see another black tie! Just no. No, thank you.” The last “iconic” red-carpet moment was, he thinks, Rihanna’s omelette dress at the Met Ball, and that was 2015. In fact what has really got him buzzing is RiRi’s latest series of outfits papped as “she comes out of restaurants, goes up escalators … it looks so good”, he says. “It’s better than most of what’s on the red carpet!” Back in Norwich, Lambert had no clue what a stylist was when he was growing up. The child of a policeman dad and a nurse mum, he had an extensive interest in clothes but no knowledge of fashion per se. It was only when he went to study photography at the University for the Creative Arts Rochester, in Kent, that he was alerted to it. He interned at fashion magazines during his summer holidays, then started working for a senior menswear stylist, and then the position at Topman came up. He speaks fondly of home — he says his dad is quite a “flamboyant” dresser, actually — but admits it took everyone a minute to suss out what he does. “Even up until five years ago my parents would tell people, ‘He’s a stylist,’ and they’d say, ‘Oh, he does hair?’

.

[smashskate]

Jackie Jett - For @thesimsters-stories​‘s Love Island

“Well damn! I’m Jackie, and I can control the weather!”

Name: Jackie Jett

Age: 26

Location: Del Sol Valley

Occupation: Weather Reporter

Traits: Non-Committal, Ambitious, Outgoing

Aspiration: World-Famous Celebrity

Skills:

Charisma: 8

Wisdom: 6

Dancing: 4

Acting: 4

Bio: 

Introducing Jacqueline “Jackie” Jett, the semi-famous Weather Reporter on the Del Sol Valley Network, Channel 7. With hair about as big as her ego, Jackie is known for being loud, proud, and... another word that ends in -oud. Give us a bit to think of one, and we’ll get back to you. 

Jackie grew up in the suburbs of Del Sol Valley, with her parents and two older brothers. She excelled in school, graduating Valedictorian of her class and getting accepted into Foxbury Institute’s Specialized Biology program. It’s safe to say that years of success definitely boosted her opinion of herself, which was struck down a few notches when the job market tightened up as soon as she graduated. Jobs in her field were hard to come by, and Jackie was feeling down on her luck. One day while shopping with her bffs, she was approached by a man who she assumed to be a model scout. It turned out to be Victor Price, one of the producers at DSVN, who offered her a spot as their new weather reporter. With the show’s viewer count draining as online news becomes the new craze, Jackie’s appearance is possibly the only thing holding the studio together at this point, and she knows it.

While Jackie does have some brains on her, her most admirable trait are her wits. She’s real cunning, and knows how to play the game to come out on top. Unlike some of the other applicants, long-term romance isn’t really Jackie’s thing. She’s much more inclined to one night stands and hookups, and anyone who lasts longer gets their number deleted from her phone. Jackie claims to love this lifestyle, much to her cuffed friend’s dismay. While they think she’s crazy for not wanting to get boo’d up, she thinks the idea of being tied down is absolutely sickening. So why would she apply for a show like Love Island, where the only goal is to find true (or true in terms of reality television) love? (Reason number 1 will shock you!)

Questions:

Briefly describe yourself and your life.

“If you insist, LOL! Alright, my name’s Jackie Jett and I’m 26 years old. If I look familiar, it’s probably because you’ve seen me on DSVN, during the 8am time slot, 9 on weekends. Shameless plug, I’m the hottest weather girl in the hottest city in the west! Sure, the job’s a bore at times and I really only got hired for my looks and not my now-useless biology degree, but it pays well and I get a lot of time off to do the things I actually enjoy! I’m not actually as dumb as I come off to our viewers. I’m college educated! Although, it doesn’t really matter much at the moment, so I figured why not have fun where I am now? Also yes, I’m a natural redhead. Anyone that tells you different is a disgusting liar.”

Any Hobbies?

“My hobbies pretty much only consist of me going out and getting drunk. But it’s not that bad! I’ve always been a party girl, since high school even. There’s nothing more fun than going to a nightclub and letting your inhibitions run wild for a few hours! And if I can witness some celeb drama happen live before I hear about it at the studio the next morning, that's always a plus.”

How long have you been single?

“Well, that depends on what you define a relationship as, doesn't it? If you’re talking about any kind of romance, than I’m technically never single. I’m just never with the same person! If you define it as a romantic, long term relationship, then not since freshman year of college. And I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much. I love to have my options open.”

Why did your last relationship end?

“Again, if we’re talking longer term, he wanted to get more serious and I realized that it just wasn’t what I was looking for. I was 19 and I still wanted to experience so much before getting cuffed. He really didn't take it well, so kinda safe to say I dodged a bullet on that one.”

What are you looking for in a relationship?

“If I had to be in one? I would want the other person to know and respect that I’m not going to be tied down for the rest of time. The whole “open relationship” thing is a standard I like to set with my long term hookups, and I would like that to apply here as well. Also, they should be hot. I’ve been with every type of guy you can think of, but I’ve got standards. I like em sexy, who can blame me? I promise, if I get on the show I’ll try to restrain myself. Keyword try. Also generally don't be a dick. Just because I’ve been with a lot of men doesn't mean I’m less deserving of respect. Any guy that thinks differently goes out the door, sorry not sorry. Oh, did you know that I have Demi Lovato’s phone number? We’re, like, basically besties.”

What are you not looking for in a relationship?

“By this point in the interview I think it’s pretty obvious the one thing I’m super not looking for, LOL! But other than that, I’m open to a lot! Just depends on who’s asking.” *winks* “I’m really not territorial, but if any of the women try to shame me for my lifestyle, I’m not afraid to get my claws out. Women are supposed to support women, I’m not tolerating any bullshit.”

Something else we should know about you?

“Okay, I guess this is where I come clean. Well, to the producers at least. So, basically, for the last few months, our shows ratings and viewership have been dropping. Our analytics team looked into it, and we’re pretty sure it’s because of that Simstagram News update. Instead of watching the actual news, people are going there because it’s quicker and easier to get info. So one day, Victor comes up to me and is all like “I’ve got an idea and I need your help”, which is already fishy because that’s basically code for “I need to use your looks to get the show traction”. So I go into his office and he brings up the Love Island Application. And, like, at first I’m hesitant because I work in showbiz, right? I know how reality tv stars get perceived by the public. But then I realized that if the studio tanks, I’ll no longer have a job, which like, major bummer. So I say yes!

In the end, I’m here to stir up drama and look cute on camera, all as bait for people to come and watch live news. Of course, I get the added benefit of a longer segment on the show, and a boost in Simstagram followers! So it’s really a win-win! Honestly, I probably would have applied anyway, if I had seen the casting call before Victor showed it to me. A bunch of hot guys, hookups, and more drama than a Kardashian-Jenner Simstagram comment section? That’s basically my dream life! And hey, who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get a tan!”

Some fun facts:

Please, make more That 70′s Show references when you meet her. She’s never heard them before. You’re so original, oh my gosh.

She’s allergic to shrimp. Makes for a downer at fancy parties.

She doesn’t tan, just burns. Curse her Irish heritage.

She played volleyball in college. She was pretty good at it, but almost broke her nose, which cause her to quit out of fear of getting a nose job.

She’s definitely a B list celebrity. No, don’t look it up. The internet is full of misinformation. You can’t trust anything.

She watched Mr.Robot and now has tape over her webcam. Sincerest apologies to her FBI agent. He/She’s missing a lot.

She’s a secret drama nerd. She can’t sing for the life of her, but she did the occasional play when she was younger.

Although her brothers know she can make her own decisions, they’re still super protective. They’re like 6ft+ guard dogs that Jackie sicks on any man that harms her.

She's got a tattoo of a ladybug. She won't tell you where, you’ll just have to find out for yourself ;)

Despite her complaining, her and Victor are pretty close. They have that sibling type bond. Only if one sibling was able to fire the other.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 love island #ts4 love island entry #s4 #sims 4 #thesimsters-stories #oh I loved making this one #I think I have a thing for redheads lol

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 4x05-- The Gang Goes to War

under the cut

This episode starts with Caleb and I don’t totally hate it. This means the writers are doing a good job with him so far. I’m surprised I feel that way considering I loathe the plot he’s here for. 

This is the first case heavy episode in ages and I have more thoughts on the fact that somehow the space from 6x19 has become military court than I do on the case. As always, that’s not to say it’s bad (tbh, this case was the exact right blend of simple and captivating it reminded me of old school TGW). It’s just to say I have literally nothing to add.

Lucca’s off to visit Bianca. She is still extremely uncomfortable with very wealthy people. 

Oh, a mention of babysitting! Kind of sad I’m surprised. 

I forgot to mention that this ep is on the shorter side, almost network length. Woo! 

Lucca describes her life as “I have a toddler. I’m trying to make partner.” Remember how last season either Lucca or Rosalyn (or MAIA hhahahahhahahaahahhahaahahahhahahahaahahhaahhaah) were going to be made partner and that plot just vanished?

Lucca says that of work, family, fitness, friends, and sleep, the three she’s chosen are work, family, and sleep. I believe it. Though we’ve seen Lucca exercise probably more than most TGF characters? But that was before she had a baby. 

If you leave your phone on while you’re on a plane and someone places a voice call would your phone actually ring? 

Marissa TOTALLY has a crush on Caleb.

Oh, a Francesca mention AND a mention of Lucca and Marissa being friends?! The continuity fairy likes me today!!!!!!!! 

Caleb threatens to quit (I think he knows he wouldn’t be taken up on that offer) unless Mr. Firth lets him take a month for this case. Come on, Caleb. This is TV lawyering. This case will take two costume changes and you know it! Months are a thing for real lawyers. 

Diane and Adrian aren’t in their offices, so when Firth finds a partner to assist on the military case (I do not understand why this is a thing he is doing in the first place, but alright), it’s Liz. How conveniently awkward!

(Adrian just isn’t in this episode-- he is apparently at a conference in New York-- and Diane is barely in it, and I’m fine with that. LET LIZ AND LUCCA SHINE!) 

(Liz and Lucca are my faves, if that wasn’t obvious.) 

Awkward awkward awkward, fucking your boss is very awkward. I hate everything about this plot in theory and yet somehow like Liz, Caleb, and maybe even the idea of Liz and Caleb, but every time I think about the boss/employee dynamic my only thought is: NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Liz’s divorce! Continuity fairy has blessed me again!

I do really like Caleb. 

I somehow almost turned that last thought into a rant about Maia and I’m not gonna do that to y’all in this Maia-free season.

Rich people are getting away with more shit in Julius’s court. He’s resigned to it, until he meets his alter-ego from the play again. I get that they want to use this device to show why he’d change his mind so suddenly but omfg please don’t remind me of the last episode. 

My first thought was “maybe that long ass episode was even longer and this is a cut scene” but Julius seems to be wearing a different tie in this scene than he was before. Oof.

JUDGE KUHN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love Judge Kuhn. I think I said this last week but it isn’t often we get truly good, considered characters who want the best and actually take fair steps to see it happen. Judge Kuhn is great. 

And so is the actress playing her. Her expression as the seat shrinks-- which is some Kingsian bullshit-- makes the joke work. 

This episode relies a lot on that device Jane the Virgin loved where back to back scenes will be linked by a theme or a word. In this case, Julius and Liz/Caleb are both dealing with continuances. Yay for structure, even a simple case related structure!

“A sofa would have blown up here”... I can’t, y’all. “A conference table would have blown up here”. Is this a joke about coronavirus or a real need for more graphics or both? I lean towards it being a joke, but before I say that lemme play these credits side by side with last week’s… 

Okay so there are differences. Last week there was an aerial view of a wine bottle exploding while this week there’s a second one in the background. They replaced an exploding coffee set with the sofa text. There are some other differences too. But not enough to convince me they didn’t have footage they could have used. So I think it’s a joke.

Welcome back, season two Diane. I missed you, ya weirdo! 

(But like actually Diane is staring out the window at a bird, not doing anything or responding to questions. Why so weird?!)

Now that Diane isn’t hunting down answers on 618, she has “nothing to do.” Oh, suddenly no one in the world is in need of pro-bono assistance? Sure! 

Continuity on the SWATting, too! 

AND A WILL REFERENCE.This episode may be nothing special but it sure is endearing. 

Diane explains that Judge Kuhn is tough but fair and Will ended up liking her. That’s a pretty good summary.

Diane spots the woman who she dreamed was Weinstein’s lawyer in a meeting, drawing dots. Guess that’s one of the drawbacks of having windows everywhere. She chases her up the stairs to STRL and asks if they know each other because, and I quote, “I had a dream and you were in it. You were Weinstein’s lawyer.” HOW FUCKING WEIRD ARE YOU TRYING TO BE, DIANE? Are you microdosing again?! (This feels so season two.)

Props to this lady (do we know her name? Has it been said on the show) for taking that weird-ass comment in stride and joking she probably didn’t do very well. She needs a favor-- she has a case in front of Judge Cain and wants Diane to sit with her.

Diane asks about the dots. Apparently this lady draws-- and counts!-- dots. Hundreds of thousands of them. During meetings. Because it’s calming and nothing matters. See?! Season two! 

Lucca does get a little bit of work to do on vacation-- Bianca wants to buy the resort.

Case stuff happens.

Someone explain to me what the fuck this bright neon lighting in the office late at night is all about. Why is it so bright?! Why do the colors change!? Am I just supposed to accept this?! I suppose it’s no weirder than a woman who draws dots instead of taking notes-- and admits to it-- but WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

I know there is supposed to be some sort of parallel between the case having an element about disobeying your superior and the Liz/Caleb dynamic, but as you will recall, I hate everything about the boss/employee plot AND find it incredibly boring so if you would like to see analysis of that parallel… I’m not your gal. 

Oh look I can see the office bathroom of Willicia sexytimes in Liz’s office

My god this lighting is distracting. 

It sounds to me like Caleb is in the legal field for idealistic reasons. I can’t get a sense of if wanting the country to stay the same is liberal or conservative or admirable or misguided but it’s definitely something. (I have a feeling he means “stay the same” as in “return to 2016” though.) 

Since she has not been in the military, Liz worries out loud that she hasn’t lived much of a life. This leads to flirting and intimacy and another hookup. Bleh.

Creeper from Kurt’s office comes to visit Julius and compliments him while basically telling him to keep quiet and be corrupt. He promises Julius the chance to move up the ladder and implies Julius should rule in favor of some rich donor. 

Julius, who, like all characters on this show and maybe just people in general, does NOT like being told what to do, promptly does the opposite. And he feels really, really, really good about doing the right thing. 

Case stuff happens.

Lucca now gets invited to play poker with a bunch of millionaires and celebrities. Lucca is highly uncomfortable. The names of the celebs are bleeped which is… not as clever as I think it was meant to be.

Also I’d be uncomfortable in this situation too. I’m just ready for this plotline to go somewhere beyond “Lucca is uncomfortable with rich people”.

Recapping goes fast when most of the show is case stuff.

In another throwback, Diane (lit by the weird lighting) is watching what looks like a parody of SNL allowing 45 to host? Or maybe it’s just some unfunny bit that goes on too long? Odd target for a parody at this point in time.

Whatever the point, it prompts Diane to start drawing dots of her own. 

Lucca’s luck at the poker game is fantastic. Bianca encourages Lucca to keep her winnings-- she wouldn’t give back a stuffed animal or goldfish won with someone else’s money at a carnival, would she? 

Case stuff, now involving 45, happens. This is a missing season two episode, I swear. 

Wow lol those establishing shots and stock footage do NOT convince me that Lucca lives in Chicago. Nor do they convince me that anyone involved with the show has visited Chicago.

Case stuff happens! 

Another Lucca and Marissa scene! Lucca asks what to do about her poker winnings. Marissa says Lucca should keep the money because Bianca doesn’t need it-- get Bianca a gift if she feels guilty. 

Diane sits next to the seemingly nameless lawyer and they compare their dots. Unfortunately for Diane, the case she’s decided to sit in on as a favor? It’s another case in front of Julius, and it also gets 618’d. How convenient for the plot! When Julius doesn’t go for it, Diane is intrigued and reenergized. She boldly goes to Julius’s chambers to suggest trading info about 618.

No matter how many times I write “618” in the context of Memo 618 I still think 618 = Loser Edit. 

Case stuff happens! It’s good for Caleb and Liz! 

MALCOLM GETS MENTIONED BY NAME! CONTINUITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Caleb and Liz continue the tradition of using meals as code for sex and now I have to watch them kiss. Pass.

Lucca gets Bianca a gift of a goldfish and a giant stuffed bear (a reference to their earlier convo about carnivals). Cute, but I still don’t quite get where this plot is going.

There’s a “Skye and Moon” logo on the plane. I wonder if that is the name of Bianca’s cosmetics empire.

Oh, it’s over. This episode was perfectly fine. Nothing challenging, nothing innovative, but a solid and enjoyable outing closer in length to the average TGW ep than the average TGF one. After last week’s long-ass episode, this is really all I wanted/needed. 

#tgfthoughts #the good fight

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Luckily Unlucky

Anon Request: Hi!! Thanks for your amazing writing, you are a blessing!! (A/N: you’re too kind :D ) Could you do a tom holland x reader where you've been together for a year or so but you have never really have had the chance to go and visit him on set because you're busy with school but when you finaly do you can't contain your excitement bc ur a really big Marvel fan and you geek out about everything, even the smallest things and Tom just finds you the most adorable human being and u also meet seb who's ur celeb crush and u freak out

Warnings: a little language

robertdowneyjr  @tomholland2013 is bring his leading lady to set. Are we embarrassing him enough??

670,835 Likes | 2,335 Comments

It was hard to not scroll through Instagram without being bombarded with people tagging her in pictures hoping to be recognized by Tom, being sent direct messages asking for personal information about her and Tom’s relationship, and even having reporters pose as fans online. Social media became a form of hell for (Y/N) after she started dating Tom, but seeing the photo Robert Downey Jr. tagged Tom in earlier today had been a relief from the regular occurring torment.

“You didn’t tell me Benedict Cumberbatch was going to be there,” she gasped while turning to face Tom as he sat in the driver’s seat, maneuvering his way around Atlanta traffic.

“You’re such a Sherlock nerd I figured you’d deduce that much,” he replied with a smirk.

“Will you please just tell me who all is going to be there?” she begged.

“And ruin the surprise?” he laughed as (Y/N) continued to pretend pout in the passenger seat. As they pulled into a large parking lot surrounded by fences and electronic gates, (Y/N) shifted impatiently in her seat.

“Can you promise me one thing?” she asked as Tom looked over at her with a smile on his face as his eyes beamed into hers.

“Anything love,” he said softly.

“Don’t let me make a fool of myself,” she stated while only lead Tom into a lighthearted laugh. “I’m serious!” she quickly protested. “Don’t let me look like an idiot in front of anyone, okay?!” Tom continued to laugh and pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him. Upon seeing this, Tom placed his hands on either side of her face and smiled.

“There is no way anyone could think you’re an idiot, (Y/N), but I will make sure you don’t turn into a luny fangirl in front of anyone,” he promised before placing his lips on hers.

“That is all I ask for,” she laughed in response as Tom pulled her into one last kiss before exiting the vehicle and hurrying to her door. From the outside, everything seemed normal; big white buildings towered over the trailers, golf carts hurriedly scurried through open pathways, and people walked wherever shade was available. There was nothing too different or exciting about set upon first laying eyes on it, and Tom knew this.

“What’s the matter?” he teased (Y/N), “Why aren’t you excited?” Figuring he was taunting her for getting herself worked up about a bunch of buildings, (Y/N) shrugged in a slightly defeated manner which only caused Tom to suppress the sly grin he had been hiding while his heart jumped from excitement. 

“What are all these buildings?” she asked, trying not to sound let down but rather inquisitive of her surroundings. 

“Different studios and such,” Tom continued while peeling away from his girlfriend’s side and bounding up a couple of metal steps toward a doorway. “This way, love,” he called to her as she continued her pace toward him. He opened the door and escorted her into the dark room. (Y/N) clung to Tom’s arm, afraid of getting lost and not being able to find her way out--a very realistic fear considering Tom once unknowingly abandoned her in an escape room filled with porcelain dolls.

Tom flicked the lights on, illuminating the room they stood in. Immediately, (Y/N)’s eyes flashed to Tom in excitement, anticipation, and a slight bit of fear. Looking around, she realized she must have been standing in the wardrobe department since individual sections for each of the sixty-something main characters wardrobe changes hung on racks beside their respective props.

“Am I even allowed to be in here?” she asked Tom who shrugged in response. Honestly, he didn’t know where (Y/N) could and could not go, but the wide-eye heart fluttering excitement that flooded her beautiful face was something he couldn’t pass up regardless of rules. “Is that--” she couldn’t finish her sentence before she took a few steps closer to the relic that appeared to Steven Strange: the cloak of levitation. “No way!” she yelled as her attention flashed to Red Wing, Anthony Mackie’s character’s ‘pet’ robot. “And the wing pack?” she gasped while picking it up and then hurriedly glancing at Tom. “Can I?”

“It’s not like Anthony’s my biggest fan anyway,” he teased and watched as (Y/N) slid her arms into the prop with its wings already extended. With her back toward Tom, she glanced down over her shoulder to look at the wing only to hear the snapping noise of Tom’s phone as he took her photo. “You look much better in that than Anthony,” he teased.

“Don’t you dare send that to him!” she shouted. 

“Fine,” Tom sighed, “I won’t yet.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and then quickly put the prop back where she found it before rushing over to Peter Quill’s prop and wardrobe station. Immediately she put on the helmet, strapped the walkman to her belt loop, and held up his blaster and waited for Tom to take her picture again. For the next hour Tom followed his giddy girlfriend around as she grabbed whatever prop she could find and posed dorkily with them. By the end, in addition to the photos Tom already took, he had pictures of her peeking over the cloak of levitation, pretending to pick up Mjölnir and then raising the hammer victoriously, ducking behind Captain America’s new shield, raising her fist in the air as the infinity gauntlet covered the better part of her forearm, and his favorite: fem!spidey. Tom and (Y/N) had started dating shortly after the premier of Spider-Man: Homecoming and so the idea of her wearing the suit wasn’t possible until today. 

“What do you think?” she asked while pretending to shoot webs at him.

“Damn I love you,” he laughed while taking numerous photos of his girlfriend being a dork in his costume. Oddly enough it fit her surprisingly well and, though he would never admit it, he loved seeing her in it more than he loved being Spider-Man. “If Peter Parker ever does a gender twist like Thor, I’ll commission for you to take over,” Tom said while pulling (Y/N) into a hug.

“You’re a dork,” she laughed at him while wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You’re the one in the Spider-Man suit!”

“You’re the one getting off on it!”

“Shut up,” he muttered in a fluster as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Change back, it’s nearly lunch and some people are excited to meet you.” Once (Y/N) was back in her t-shirt and shorts, Tom grabbed her hand and the pair left out the door they came in and started walking toward where the trailers were gathered.

“Where are we going?” she asked as Tom put his arm around her waist and she did the same to him.

“Downey Town,” he said proudly.

“I won’t want to go to town,” she said in a complaining tone, teasing Tom.

“When are you going be nice to me today?” he laughed while poking her sides. “You’re welcome for me making all of the mistakes you can learn from, by the way.”

“Thank you so much for embarrassing yourself back then so I can not seems as strange,” she replied, “but if you introduce me to Robert’s stunt double on purpose, I will hurt you, Holland.” The two arrived at a collection of trailers set up to remind (Y/N) of the way the cabins were described at Camp Half-Blood. Slowly, Tom and (Y/N) made their way into the grouping of trailers to see a large, standing extendable tent set up with benches and picnic tables placed underneath and a catering company setting up lunch. Throughout the courtyard were the various actors filming Infinity War this week. Paul Rudd, Mark Ruffalo and Robert Downey Jr. stood beside Benedict Cumberbatch and Benedict Wong just outside under the awning of one trailer and Sebastian Stan, Anthony Mackie and the Chrises were gathered together under another awning.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked (Y/N) again as her grip on his waist tightened unexpectedly.

“Y-yeah,” she started, “it’s just...there’s a lot of people.”

“You wanted to meet them all, right?” She found herself unable to respond and instead quickly nodded her head. “Well then, come on,” he smiled to her and pulled her toward RDJ’s gathering of actors.

“Tom,” (Y/N) murmured quietly they approached.

“Uh huh?”

“Don’t let me say Bobby Newport in a menacing voice near Paul Rudd,” she hurried to say.

“Why the hell would you say that?”

“Just don’t let me,” she stated, “okay?”

“Okay, love,” Tom laughed and pulled (Y/N) against his side in hopes to make her feel more comforted and less anxious. Before she knew it, (Y/N) was face to face with RDJ and Mark Ruffalo, who just happened to be the first two people to turn around as stye approached.

“Welcome to the party, Tom,” Robert called while stretching out his arm and taking Tom under him in a side hug. “And this must be the lovely, (Y/N) I’ve heard so much about,” he said while pulling her into a warm hug and kissing her cheek. He left his arm across her shoulders and looked between Tom and (Y/N) before turning his attention back to the girl. “Blink twice if he’s got you under some sort of Stockholm Syndrome thing,” Robert joked, “it’s the only way a guy like him could get someone as gorgeous as you.” (Y/N) could feel her face blush a little at his compliment but was quick to humble herself.

“I’m the lucky one,” she laughed. “Had there not been a screw up with my hotel room, we would have never met.”

“And then we would have never met, and I mean, come on,” he said while raising his hands in the air and moving them up and down like a triple beam balance, “me, Tom, me, Tom. Me? Tom?” A smirk grew across Tom’s lips as he tipped his side of Robert’s imaginary scale upward.

“Tom,” he said with a smile as his fingers found their way toward (Y/N)’s. As soon as (Y/N) was beginning to grow comfortable in her situation, Tom, Robert, Mark, and Wong were whisked away to help with food set up, leaving (Y/N) in the company of Benedict Cumberbatch, AKA Sherlock Holmes, AKA her favorite childhood icon.

“Hello,” he said with a smile and then extending his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She graciously took his hand in hers and smiled.

“I’m (Y/N),” she said quickly. “I’m visiting Tom today on set--Tom Holland, not Hiddleston, but if you know where he is I wouldn’t mind visiting him either,” she laughed anxiously. To her surprise, Benedict began to laugh as well.

“You’re Tom’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” he said in realization and slight surprise. (Y/N) nodded. “How did you meet? I know he told me you were a fan.” (Y/N) bit her lip and swallowed hard before speaking.

“I flew out to LA for Comic Convention and there was a mixup with my hotel rooms. They gave me the wrong key and wrong room number and it ended up being Tom’s room. Oddly enough I was at the convention to meet him in the first place.

“Funny how things worked out,” Benedict smiled.

“Yeah,” she said hesitantly.

“He speaks highly of you, you know?” he continued.

“Does he now?” (Y/N) began to laugh.

“One of the first things he said about you to me was how he tried to introduce you to ‘Sherlock--’”

“And I had seen more episodes than him?” I finished and Benedict nodded with a light grin on his face. “Yeah, I had a teacher in high school who played series one for us in class when we went over induction and deduction. Its’ easily one of my favorite shows.”

“What did you think of the plot line with Mary?” he asked, his voice holding genuine interest toward her opinion. Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) could see Tom returning and hurried to speak before he arrived.

“I enjoyed her character as well as what she brought to both John and Sherlock’s lives, but I also see that, with her past, and with Amanda and Martin splitting, there was no other way for it to end for her than the way it did.”

“I agree,” he smiled as Tom approached. “I love Amanda and I loved working with her and Martin but--and here’s a little slip about the next series--I think John and Sherlock are going to go back to their roots a bit more but still have Mary as a guiding voice for each of them deep down.”

“I knew the conversation would turn to this,” Tom laughed as he came back.

“I don’t want to keep you for very long, but I’d love to talk to you again before you leave,” Benedict said while shaking (Y/N)’s hand in departure. Tom and (Y/N) said their farewells to Benedict and she followed him toward a picnic table to wait for lunch to begin. They were alone for a total of ten seconds before a figure slid in front of them, a smirk plastered across his face.

“Tom, I’ve got you a little something,” he cooed while sliding a tumbler in front of Tom on the table.

“Is this my juice?” Tom laughed. 

“Yeah, and there’s a surprise in it this time,” Anthony stated as Tom took a sip. Immediately, Tom’s lips curled as an unexpected burning caused his tastebuds to tingle. 

“Thanks,” Tom replied as he adjusted to the alcohol in his cranberry juice.

“Pratt’s idea,” Anthony said as Chris Pratt slid onto the bench beside Anthony, accompanied by Chris Evans, Paul Rudd, and Sebastian Stan. (Y/N) could hardly contain her excitement as she noticed everyone around her: Chris Evans on her left, Tom on her right, and Anthony, Sebastian, Chris Pratt, and Paul across from her, all awaiting lunch to be served, and for some reason, all excited to meet her: a nobody who was lucky enough to be unlucky when it comes to booking hotel rooms.

“We brought one for your lady friend too, if she drinks that sort of thing,” Chris Pratt said and slid a plastic cup in front of (Y/N). She took a quick sip of the ice juice laced with what tasted like rum and then turned her attention back to the group.

“I’m assuming you know us by how much Tom drones on and on about how amazing we are,” Anthony cooed.

“And we pretty much know you from how often Tom talks about (Y/N) this, (Y/N) that,” Sebastian smiled while teasing her boyfriend.

“Now that you’ve met her can you blame me for talking about her so much?” Tom laughed while gesturing toward (Y/N).

“Is it true you’re a super huge fan of the comics and all?” Pratt asked.

“Uh, yeah.” she said hesitantly and then took another sip of her drink.

“Okay, then who’s your favorite superhero?” Chris Evans asked.

“Marvel or DC?” (Y/N) asked in return.

“Both,” Anthony interjected.

“Well for DC it’s Raven, hands down and for Marvel, well as a kid it was Spider-Man; my dad and I would sit down and watch the Tobey McGuire movies all the time, and but once I really got into the comics, I was a fan of the Winter Soldier storyline, but I’ve gotta go with Domino, she’s pretty bad ass,” (Y/N) responded.

“Raven and Domino?” Pratt asked. “Not Star Lord?”

“Or Falcon?” Anthony chimed in.

“I could see you as Domino,” Sebastian said while looking over (Y/N)’s face and a small smile rose.

“But why those two?” Paul asked.

“They’re smart and can out wit anyone and are talented and strong enough to also overpower anyone as well.”

“What even is Domino’s powers?” Tom asked, turning toward his girlfriend as he continued to learn new things about her preferences.

“So long as she makes an attempt to avoid or prevent something, she’s able to. Say if someone was trying to shoot her, if she moves, or makes an attempt to move out of the way, she won’t be hit, no matter what.”

“She’s also super tactically trained,” Sebastian added in (Y/N)’s favor.

“That too,” (Y/N) said while taking another sip to cool her as the Atlanta heat overcame the air.

“And why Raven?” Tom asked.

“She’s easily the most powerful and most bad ass character in all of the DC universe!” (Y/N) couldn’t control her excitement while talking to superheroes about superheroes. “She’s half demon, has the ability to wield dark magic for good purposes, has basically no weaknesses, and mental powers are always more powerful and stronger than physical abilities.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Tom tried to argue.

“My point was proven in Civil War. No one could touch Vision besides Wanda--the only Avenger to have a mental ability rather than a physical one. She singlehandedly fucked everyone up in Age of Ultron too,” (Y/N) defended.

“You really know your stuff, huh?” Chris Evans said with a hint of admiration.

“Don’t even get her started on Batman,” Tom murmured as food was slowly being placed in front of everyone.

“What’s wrong with Batman?” Anthony asked, leading Tom to groan and grab (Y/N)’s hand tightly in his.

“Please don’t do this,” he begged her.

“Why, what’s so wrong with Batman?” Anthony pushed as Tom glared at him.

“My best mate, Harrison, couldn’t talk to her for a week after she tore down every argument supporting Batman as being a superhero.”

“That’s because he’s not a superhero,” (Y/N) interrupted.

“Here we go,” Tom grumbled and then laughed. “Do you see what you did Anthony?”

“Wait, I want to hear this!” Sebastian said from across the table and then extended his arms to silence everyone and gave (Y/N) his full attention. “Please, go on,” he smiled and gestured for her to continue talking.

“There’s nothing about him that makes him ‘super.’ He has no ‘super’ human or advanced qualities about him.”

“He knows almost every form of martial arts,” Anthony countered.

“That doesn’t make him a super hero. It makes him a master of martial arts. Batman is nothing more than a person who knows things and has money. There is nothing about him that makes him ‘super.’”

“Then what’s the difference between him and Tony Stark or Clint Barton?” Paul asked.

“Clint know’s he’s a marksman and ex-spy. He may be a hero, but he know’s he’s not a ‘super’ hero. I try to avoid the Tony Stark argument because it goes both ways: you can say the arc reactor is something that makes him ‘super’ because it’s keeping him alive, but then again, it was developed by him: billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist; notice ‘superhero’ isn’t on the list.”

“Okay, then what about Black Widow?” Sebastian asked while leaning over the table and facing (Y/N).

“Trick question,” she muttered while mimicking his position. “How else would someone born in 1928 look like their only 29 in the year 2017? She received a similar variation of the Super Soldier Serum used on Steve and Bucky--which also explains how Bucky trained her in the Red Room.”

“Leading to their subsequent relationship,” Sebastian stated.

“Which the movies have been subtly hinting at.”

“Damn, you two are fucking nerds,” Anthony laughed as he and Tom agreed on something while laughing at Sebastian and (Y/N)’s back and forth.

“I told you guys not to get her going,” Tom laughed and then put his hand on (Y/N)’s leg as he looked at her with pride and admiration. The group continued talking as they ate their way through lunch. Conversation fluttered between comics, movies, books, and other things of entertainment, to (Y/N)’s degree in school, her and Tom recounting the story of how they met, and even bringing up the fact that Chris Pratt and Paul Rudd had worked together already, which lead Pratt into the scene where Ben, Andy, Tom, and Jerry were trying to make a negative ad about the Bobby Newport campaign. Sebastian, Anthony, and (Y/N) all joined in with him at Paul’s expense and toward the end of their meal, (Y/N) was more reluctant to leave than she was hesitant to arrive. Anthony forced Tom to promise to bring (Y/N) around more often and even invited the couple out with the rest of the cast that night, saying that bringing (Y/N) with Tom was the only way he would be allowed at the grown up’s table.

Knowing that (Y/N) was more than likely exhausted, Tom took her back to his trailer to rest where she was unable to stop thanking him for the amazing day and repeatedly telling him over and over how he was the best boyfriend and most amazing best friend anyone could ask for, and that she was so fortunate to have met him, let alone grow close to him in the way they have become with one another.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom x reader #tom holland fanfic #thomas stanley holland #thomas stanley holland fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[occupyscifi]

The Franchise

The franchise

 It’s one thing to learn that you’re a clone, but it’s quite another to learn that you’re going to be held liable for your clonefather’s debts.

I found out at the after-after-party of a 3rd gen Kardashiclone’s new artesenal dildo brand launch. I was on workation at a trustafarian retreat in what had once been London’s trendy Shoreditch till it had been bought by some anonymous celeb who now rented it out for her fellow members of the 1% so they could pretend they were creatives in a vibrant new media economy. I had been servicing the needs of those much wealthier than me, which mostly involved installing VPN’s on their neural implants to get around their anti bad behaviour mods. This enabled them to eat, fuck, drink and ingest whatever they wanted. Mostly it was carbs, as these were kids who’d been on ultra restrictive diets since birth to ensure their continued their parents good looks. I’d invested heavily in the samizdat underground takeaway railroad, shipping in fried goods from as far afield as Margate.

It had been a good day, I’d earned good lolcoin installing a new VPN code on a couple of clones of an A-lister made famous by her family’s fundamentalist Christian clothing brand. The fact that the church she owned were vehemently against cloning and she’d pretended her daughters were twins only sweetened the sense of natural justice I got from shilling my wares to the super rich.

In fact I had already swooped in on Brandy2 at the after-after party, buying her a couple of ice cold methtails from the narco bar in the corner with the excuse I was just testing if her VPN was working. She had downed both of them and I was on my way to get a third. I was ruminating on how ‘d get into her pants, thinking of a cheesy shit line about wanting to test all the things the VPN could do. I was just approaching the bar when in my digital mind’s eye a banking notification flared red. Still walking I pulled it up, thinking it was just another stupid warning about not investing in Nano scale medicine. I nearly shit myself when I saw what it contained.

However I didn’t have time even for that because the next thing I knew an apparition of a man in his late forties blossomed in front of me. Full contact protocols, able to appear in my visual cortex without even needing to ask my permission. The kind of access I am very careful to restrict to precisely no one.

‘Hi there’ said the guy ‘now, I am sorry to interrupt but I got something to say’ he grinned, his face eerily familiar ‘first the good news. I’m You, only older and more successful. So successful in fact I can afford to have a clone. That’s you. Now, the bad news. I’ve been declared bankrupt and unfortunately since we’re genetically identical all your assets have been seized to pay off my debts’ his grin widened further ‘guess this wasn’t the way you wanted to find out you were a clone, right?’

 At first it had been only celebrities and models who had cloned themselves. They had pretended, of course, that these were children they’d had with as yet un named other halves, but since most celebrities had been famous since birth it was incredibly easy to compare the supposed child with the parent and call bullshit on the whole thing. Besides everyone knew that the average A-lister was too in love with themselves to raise anyone but a 100% copy of themselves. But people expected that kind of narcissism from the terminally famous, the fact that most celebs never married for any other purpose than self promotion had lead to a rash of self weddings. This meant that cloning instead of having children was the next logical step for anyone with a modicum of fame.

Unfortunately in our late 21st century world everyone is famous to one degree or other, engaged from the moment of birth in a race to develop their own personal brand and to incessantly post content that was never more than narcissistic naval gazing, or snarky comment on other people’s narcissistic naval gazing.

So cloning yourself became a normal everyday thing, because much as people loved kids the thing they loved even more was themselves. And what could be more wonderful than having a tiny version of yourself to cherish and cover with affection? Well for my clonefather apparently using them as collateral to prevent himself from being declared bankrupt.

‘What can I say?’ He grinned at me sheepishly. Or rather the software he’d sent to do his dirty work did. He couldn’t even be bothered to contact me personally, either he was too shit scared or else he had god knew how many clone sons and it was easier to send some office script to tell them all he’d gone bankrupt. I’d never even known I was a clone before but I knew myself well enough to know what I was capable of ‘it’s been a bad season. I’ve made some calls that haven’t quite panned out. That’s life’

‘That’s my life, you arsehole’ I retorted, watching in my mind’s eye as the student loan I’d been living off vanished into thin air, along with all the money I’d been stashing away ready to start my killer startup with ‘how can you do that to me? How can you have fucked things up so badly?’

‘can’t we, I dunno, have an understanding?’ he replied, the ghost in my vision wavering as another partygoer wandered past, zoned out in exactly the way I’d hoped to be. Now I didn’t even have enough credit to get the third methtail I’d promised Brandy2 ‘‘We’re the same person after all’

‘Pre fucking cicely’ I threw back, trying not to feel creeped out by the sight of a version of myself, older in the way of people with access to expensive credit are. Credit that bought genetic cosmetic work and the wisdom not to try and look young. Craggy, that was the word for it. Doucehbaggy, perhaps that was more accurate ‘I thought maybe you’d have a little respect for yourself. You just fucked me over completely. All my plans for the future, hell all my plans for right now. All burned because, what you can’t manage an investment portfolio? You put all your cash into crypto memory?’

‘Hey, like I said it’s just business’ the software version of the older me shrugged ‘why the fuck do you think I have clones in the first place?’

‘Well until about five minutes ago I thought I was a normal kid. With normal parents’

‘Seriously? How was I that naïve?’ He said, shaking his head ‘come on man, no one has parents any more. Everyone in the room with you is a clone of some rich asshole. You go to college for fucks’ sake. Hasn’t been a natural born kid gone to college for like twenty years. People who have their kids naturally are either Jesus freaks or just fucking poor, and I’m neither of those things’

‘Yeah, I’m getting an idea of the kind of guy you are’ I replied. I looked about the party, seeing Brandy2 already having lost interest in me and was now finger deep in some girl who was the third gen clone of a celebrity chef ‘so what the fuck? Did you implant me with a real family with a set of instructions to make sure I had the same emotional and cultural inputs you did, or were you so cheap ass you just fleshprinted me off as an eighteen year old with a bunch of false memories ready for my first day at college?’

‘Hey, I’ve always been cost effective when it comes to reproducing’ said my clonefather, half heartedly avoiding the question

‘Meaning, you’re a cheap fuck’ I retorted

‘Hey, why do you think I made you?’

‘To ensure immortality?’ I replied. It wasn’t something I’d thought much about. The idea of cloning yourself is kinda creepy, I couldn’t think of anything clones were useful for but weird murder stuff and even weirder sex stuff. Then again I was only twenty. Or at least I had thought I was until about two minutes earlier. Right then I realised I was probably younger than the bottle of diet water in my hand. Who knew what kind of person I’d be when I was older? Well, clearly I was the asshole standing right there, having just mortgaged his own clones to pay off some stupid debt.

But I’d always thought the reason people cloned themselves in order to avoid death. To have a young version for themselves that they could raise the right way, shelter from the harshness of the world. To support where they felt they had been let down, to nurture where they had felt abandoned. Hell, there were enough sob stories from my own adolescence that I could use as grounds for raising a new me. The time in sixth grade I’d been picked on for liking some outdated old beat ‘em up. The girls who’d laughed at me for not knowing what an iambic pentameter was. Things that event at the grand old age of twenty I knew were not exactly world shattering levels of suffering. Except those were false memories. Fucking asshole clonefather.

‘Really?” Said my software double ‘listen kid, there are two reasons people get cloned. First is cause they’re messed up in the head. Want to make another them that isn’t so messed up. That never works because, you know, they’re fucked up in the head so their clone is always gonna be the same. Don’t matter what they try and do there’s always something to get shitty about’

‘So what’s the other reason?’ I asked, holding my fury in check just because I had nothing to do with it. You can’t punch a hologram that only exists in your own visual cortex.

‘Simple’ he said, grinning in a way I knew I did and that I also knew annoyed the shit out of people around me ‘to make money. You see, I am…or rather was, a pretty rich dude. Self made rich, not like most of those assholes I see you’ve surrounded yourself with’

‘Hey, I earned my way onto this workation’ I said hotly

‘Precisely’ said my clone father ‘you and your clone brothers exist as my insurance policy. I know, cause you’re all me, that you are gonna be out there making money. If you do I can use that as collateral against my debts. If you don’t and one of you fails, well, that’s not my problem. Benefits of running you guys like a franchise’ he did that grin again. A grin that barely wavered as my fist went through it, to impact painfully against the paper mache walls that some robo printer had faithfully spewed out to some trustfarians painfully earnest impression of what a noughties frat house party should look like.

‘See? You’re feeling better already’ said my alter ego, before vanishing along with my life savings.

 ‘Could you have been hacked? I mean, this is kinda life altering news. Feels like a scam to me’

It was half an hour later and I was pouring out my emotions and cooling my bruised knuckles with aid of my NBGBFF Calypso. I’d told ur my story and ee’d made the right kind of noises. Sensible noises. calypso was clone of the first kind, ur copyparent was desperately trying to make up for some past childhood trauma by printing out a new version of urself. Calypso had turned out pretty well, if pretty well meant someone who was managing about fifteen different personality disorders. However ee was mellow that night and in listening mode.

‘that’s what I thought’ I replied as we sat on a ripped-to-pieces settee as various stoned clones tried to jump from the roof to the swimming pool. There had been several near misses, but the nearest fleshprinter was only down at what had once been Moorgate hospital and it was as easy to order in a new body as it was too get pizza. Easier, in fact, anything with a flour base was a controlled substance ‘or, you know, hoped. But I checked it out. My clone father is a solid gold asshole. He registered a whole bunch of us under a franchise agreement. I can’t find anything about him being bankrupt but I guess that’s the sort of thing you can keep from the public’ I shook my head ‘damn, are all cloneparents this big assholes?’

‘Yup’ said calypso, gesturing around the room. Several identical clones were bare-backing each other to the cheers of onlookers and the mock shock of several more ‘Says a lot about a person if rather than having a natural kid with another human being they’d rather hive off a little version of themselves. Says a lot about our society. I mean, shit how vain are we? That’s we’d rather fill the world with little copies of ourselves than fall in love with another human being and create a whole new person to represent that love. What is wrong with our culture that the only offspring we could bear to love is a genetically identical copy of ourselves. What has happened to us that….’

‘Woah there cal’ I cautioned ‘you were full on monoblogging. I was kinda hoping we could focus on my problems for a while, okay?’

‘Sure. Okay’ said calypso, taking a breath. Ee had been raised a strict Social Media Evangelical, forced to express all ur feelings into tweets and livestreams until there was nothing left of her inner self. Ee still slipped into overshare mode sometimes when ee wasn’t paying attention ‘so, how the fuck are you gonna deal with this? I mean, if it were me I could get back at my cloneparent by refusing to send ur a daily update of all my thoughts in chunks of two fifty characters or less. For you. I dunno’ Ee looked despondently around, passing me a contraband ketacocktail ee’d scored. Ur credit was tuned so ee couldn’t give gifts to others, but like most things there was always a way around it ‘can you kill the fucker? You must be able to inherit, right?’

‘Probably’ I replied ‘cause that was why he didn’t show in the flesh. Fucker knows me too well’

‘He’s you’ shrugged calypso ‘or rather, he’s you, I you were a fucking asshole’

‘He’s me with all the same memories up to the age of eighteen’ I said. I’d researched this quickly while Calypso had bound my injured hand and offset the costs of the ice against her charitable deeds tariff. As I was a bankrupt I was now eligible for charity. No wonder the other clone kids were avoiding me. No one liked a freeloader, not unless they happened to be super rich ‘Because that’s the age someone can legally earn money. All the things I’d thought were really happening really happened to him. I’m not some twenty year old with a whole bunch of experience, I’m physically about two years old and I’m fucking washed up. Shit, I got about two hours before my credit on this party runs out. Hell, you won’t even be able to see me then’

“I’m sure you’ll think of something” said Calypso, like all people with neural implants anyone with a zero credit rating is literally invisible. It was originally a mechanism so rich people didn’t have to feel guilty about not helping the homeless “you’re a resourceful guy”

“nothings coming up. I’m sure that asshole would know what to do if it was him”

‘Hey, if you have his memories then there must be something you can use. Think about what he would do in your situation’

‘He’d fuck someone like me over’ I sighed dramatically ‘and I’m just not that kind of guy’

That, however, wasn’t quite true.

 I hit rock bottom twelve hours later after sleeping the night in the boathouse of the frat party. Sleep hadn’t been easy, what with the boathouse basically being the fuck house. That most of the people doing the fucking were using my VPN software to work around the blocks their parents had put in didn’t help matters. I managed about two hours sleep in between the prone bodies of those too shagged out to protest that I had a poor credit rating. However someone must have reported me.

Security are a funny thing, invisible when you have money, incredibly visible when you don’t.

‘Hands where I can see them, sonny’ the voice hissed in my ear and just in case that wasn’t enough to wake me the cold press of a high quality printed taser in my ribs. My eyes flew open to see a girl I was sure the night before had been an innocent little slip of a thing suddenly metamorphose into a deadly serious security agent.

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake….” I began lamely. In my mind’s eye I was paging through all my social networlds and credit accounts. It didn’t take long, since anything of any monetary worth, including my person history had been taken to be sold to advertisers. The Zuckerburg privacy act no longer applied to me, since my copyfather had defaulted on his debt I was legally public property.

“damn right” said the girl, her accent surprisingly gravelly “you aren’t meant to be here. This here party’s only for people with bank accounts with lots of zeroes in them. Far as I can see you’ve only gone one zero in yours and nowt else”

“ah, I can explain, you see….”

The taser, it seemed, wasn’t just for show.

 When I regained consciousness I was on a train, the grimy walls showing me I was in the non person’s cabin, where adverts for things I couldn’t afford roared loudly at me. when I’d come to Shoreditch I’d ridden the same overground train, but the executive carriage was cleaner and didn’t have adverts. Ironic that adverts were most present for those who could least afford it.

However irony was low on my list of priorities, what with being effectively in a foreign country with no source of wealth and only a matter of time before my copyfather’s creditors would come and collect my body and rent it out for whatever desires motivated their perverse minds. If I was lucky they’d just employ me in some astroturfing sweatshop, if I was unlucky I’d be a liveaction sock puppet for some celeb whose need for adulation outstripped their actual fanbase. Id’ seen poor indebted fools like that before, forced to cheer and wail and pretend to love some swollen former idol. That wasn’t really how I saw my future, so I had to act fast.

“so what the fuck do I do?” I muttered to myself, cursing because even my internal monoblog had been taken from me, meaning the other people on the carriage – various drone workers going to or from Shoreditch – could hear me. Did they know that just twelve hours earlier I had been one of their overlords? That the only interaction I would have had with them would have been either to order them around or else hit them up for some illegal substance or other. In fact as I looked around the exhausted faces I was sure I recognised at least one person who’d helped me score fried chicken at 1am or help remove some hapless cloneboy’s penis from someone else’s orifice.

“and exactly what help is that to me now?” I muttered, still unable to form proper thoughts and instead speaking out loud “all my friends literally cannot see me because I’ve got no money. Only people I know are shady fucking characters” then, in a burst of strange clarity I had it. I knew how to get my life back, and how I could escape my clonefather’s debts at the same time. All I would need, I thought, staring sightlessly out the window of the driverless train, would be a complete and total lack of morals. And as the train wound its way around the guts of the south London bonded labour belt the ins and outs of the plan came into my head.

 The first part was easy. The very fact that the one percent couldn’t see me in my current guise could be turned to my advantage. That and the other fact I had a good knowledge of the tunnels and abandoned underground malls that lead into Shoreditch through my various connections meant I had something a lot of shady characters wanted.

“so I’m your man” I explained to a dealer in illicit fried chicken I knew from the underground takeaway trade “I can get your wares in under the fence and to the right people no problem”

“yeah, I got a bunch of guys like” explained the tired looking middle aged woman in her iconic KFC hat and complexion that bored a startling resemblance to her own product. The takeaway underground is filled with tired romantics, people who got into the full fat trade because they believed that a food tradition was being stamped out by health Nazis but after spending a decade feeding trustafarians and the terminally fat addicted saw nothing but pound signs “all of ‘em can get in. all of ‘em are so piss poor the one percent couldn’t see ‘em even if they was spread out all over the pavement. What makes you so special?”

“well for one thing you owe me pretty much your entire last weeks profits” I said evenly “I saw the vital stats of the rich kids I VPN’d. There wasn’t one of them didn’t put on a bunch of kilos and that hadda be down to me. But more importantly” I leaned in over a fat fryer, the fumes almost turning my stomach. I’d never been one for the colonel’s produce. They always say to never get high on your own supply “I know who’s running security up there”

“okay, well that’s something worth knowing” agreed the woman, chewing on some fried monstrosity the colour of melted gold “I lost three good guys the last few weeks. Security’s cracking down hard on our trade. We used to bribe em with mcnuggets but they got wise to that and contracted in a bunch of hardcore vegan types. Bastards” she narrowed her eyes “now, I can’t promise you no more than our regular lads get. I can see your used to something a little better but I don’t think your route to riches lies through us, know what I mean?”

“look, I’m just trying to keep the wolf from the door” I admitted “like, its either this or I’m gonna get repossessed. My clonedad burned a bunch of people and they’re after my arse to pay for it”

“nasty business” muttered the lady, then grabbed a greasy piece of paper from a greasy board. The underground takeaway business likes to keep everything old school, and not just because its traditional. What with us living in a digital world there’s a hefty minority of people who can’t even read, let alone understand that other people might still communicate by little scratches on a piece of paper “you can get going right away. Get this delivery right and we might get a profitable business going”

It wasn’t easy sneaking into Shoreditch. Hitherto I had been on the other end of the deal, and the worst treatment I could have expected would be a half hearted telling off by a security guard shit scared by my bank account balance. Now I could be murdered and dropped in the Thames and the only people that might raise the slightest protest were the creditors who hoped to pimp me out for my clonedaddy’s debts.

However for those who know how to look for it there are routes through London’s privatised zones. Places that are interstitial, borders between the turf owned by this billionaire or that semi sentient corporate giant enjoying a tax holiday. I skirted the Lloyds boundaries, cutting through an old drug running tunnel built originally in the days of the ill fated anti Brexit London independence movement. It took time, but I had the food in a heat sealed bag on my back and I knew I had just one chance to get this right.

So I emerged I to the fake retro hipsterish world of Shoreditch just as it was getting dark and the streetlights were illuminating the carefully restored street art and the one percenters sipping on their artfully fake lattes and deciding which 100% organic street food stand to be photographed beside. I knew I was in the right place. I just had to find the address scrawled on the piece of paper. Luckily it was one I knew all too well.

 The party itself was a thriving dance orgy in an old new warehouse conversion off Brick Lane. Rather conservative but it was the last night and a lot of people’s cloneparents were in attendance. Most of the guests were in various states of nudity and it was quite hard to tell who were the clones and who were the parents but I suppose that was the point. I had hoped that I’d be able to attend this and network my way to a bonded internship with some big A-lister that would tide me over not just for the summer but hook me up for life. Now I was a guy so low down most people couldn’t even see him and with a backpack full of samizdat fried chicken. But I still had a mission to do, and through the dancing bodies I spied the customer I needed to find.

“chicken dude” said the person who greeted me, unable to perceive me but sure as shit able to see the fried goods hovering in the air “man am I glad to see…..”

That was when I struck. The delivery cover had been just that, something that would get me in and unnoticed to the party. Despite what my takeaway contact said delivery folk were never molested on the wharf itself, the security agents knew to turn a blind eye to the fried chicken just as they did the drugs and the parties. However had I simply walked back in they’d have sniffed me out as a former one percenter and figured I was out for revenge. As it turned out I wasn’t, I was out for something worse.

As the innocent billionaire’s clonechild reached out to take the delivery I accessed the VPN I’d installed in them a week earlier, cutting through the back door that I’d left in just in case it was needed. At the time I thought the need might be that I’d forgotten something or if I needed to erase the whole thing in case of getting caught. As it turned out the back door was just as easy to use for obvious criminal intent. Who’d have thought? So at lightning speed and before the one percenter could fall to the floor I blazed through the VPN and into the implant mainframe proper. There I overrode the charity giving protocol and made myself a major recipient of aid. I paused for a nanosecond to infect the contacts list and then I was out. In the real world a little over a second passed. The one percenter, however, was out of it.

“sorry calypso” I said as my former NBGBFF crumpled into my arms. I funnelled her into a nearby chair “but I had to do this to you first. Could only be someone on my friends list. Irony’s an absolute bastard, right? Hope you understand I didn’t have much of a choi…..”

“you little thieving fooking bastard” came a voice in my ear, startling me so much I nearly dropped Calypso on the floor “I bet you thought you were dead clever, sneaking in her cos none of these rich twats could see you. Well I can see you, and this time I int gonna just stun you”

I placed Calypso in the chair, turned around slowly to face the security girl, nude except for her glow in the dark body tattooes. I slowly raised my hands “oh, that in’t gonna save you” she stepped forward to whisper in a voice that carried even over the thumping dance beat “you made a bloody great big mistake coming back here sonny. I’m gonna….”

“do nothing” I said, as the funds I’d stolen from Calypso and the viral worm I’d insinuated into her social networld contacts did their job. I felt my bank account swell and with it the sweet music of my neural implants reconnecting to the social networlds I had been rudely evicted from. I felt a new emotion rising in me as my old life rushed back, added to it a power I’d never realised I had “because otherwise” now I stepped close to the security guard as she shrank back. A taste in my mouth, a scent in my nostrils. “I’ll have you dropped in the Thames, you and your nearest and dearest. Got me? I’m one of them again, you see” I said, pointing to the writhing shapes “and we own you”

Now I realised what the emotion was.

“revulsion” I said to myself as the guard turned and stumbled away “that’s what it is”

“oh no” said a voice behind me “its success, trust me”

I whirled around, expecting to see another security guard behind me and instead saw the last person I either wanted or expected to see.

‘Well played, son’ said my clone father, sat in an armchair clapping slowly behind him the one percenters ground away, oblivious to all that was going on ‘well played. I never thought you’d have it in you’

‘The fuck you doing here?’ I said warily. The last thing I needed after committing a crime was to have my copyfather as a witness. He’d sell me out quicker than I could breath. Hell, he was the kind of guy who’d keep clones around just to pin his own crimes on.

‘I’m here to congratulate you’

‘On what?’ I said, gesturing at my handiwork. At the friend I’d ripped off just for a few lolcoin to keep myself going. At the woman I’d threatened just because she was trying to do a good job protecting her clients.

‘On doing what had to be done’ he said, pointing at my comatose former friend ‘you showed you had what it took. To do what was needed at the right moment. You should enjoy this moment’

“enjoy it?” I asked, my face twisting in disgust ‘Look, I just fucked over my very best friend to commit a crime. All because I have to pay off debts you dropped me into. I should kill you for what you did. Your fucking bankruptcy did this to me. You made me behave this way’

‘Well, confession time’ grinned my clonefather ‘ that whole bankruptcy thing? well it wasn’t real. I just made it up’

“made it up?” I replied “what the fuck do you mean?” then it dawned on me. Surely he could still technically access my assets. Including what I had stolen from Calypso. That had to mean…

‘You fuckjing scammed me’ I said, incredulous at the fact he was even lower than I thought ‘cal was right…’

‘Wasn’t a scam’ he said, winking ‘it was a test’

‘test? What the living fuck?’ I exclaimed, not sure I was hearing right. If there was anything worse than finding your life has been ruined is that finding out that it’s all some great big joke.

‘I told you, I’ve got a bunch of clones”he explained, lounging back in his seat “And this isn’t some charitable outing. I need to make sure that people who carry my name also carry a certain…set of skills’

‘What, those of fucking criminals?’

‘business skills’ he said, that nasty grin on his face again ‘half these fuckers you pall around with haven’t got a single go getting bone in their body” he gestured at the oblvious faces of the trustafarins still grinding all around us. Despite my new wealth I was keeping a low profile, shame being my motivating factor “I need to make sure you do. You can’t clone grit and determination, you see. I need to know that you can make a good earning, especially when the chips are down. You should thank me really, I’ve made you realise some truths about yorusefl you wouldn’t have done otherwise’

“so you’re saying that you delvietaely shafted me over just to give me the inner strength to be a better businessman?” my forehead creased “this is some next level boy named sue bullshit”

‘It’s business’ he said, spreading his arms wide ‘and welcome to the firm, by the way’ in minds eye a whole new set of protocols all opened up, giving me privileged access to data beyond my wildest dreams. The little piece of software I’d used to pry open the brain of poor calypso looked like nothing in comparison.

‘You can hug me now, if you like’ he said, as if expecting me to punch him in the face. For one golden second I almost did, but stopped myself for two reasons. The first was that he was, in his way, correct. I was prepared to do whatever it took to keep myself afloat. I was glad he had shown me that I had it in me to succeed. The second reason was that I kept half an eye on that digital protocol I’d used on calypso. Because I didn’t like that person I would become who stood in front of me, that arrogant manipulator who would cheerfully pit his younger self against certain annihilation just to see if he was up to standard. I didn’t think he should be having any more clones, or doing much of anything to anyone. And thanks to the software I had stolen, and the realisation of my nefarious talents he had awoken I knew I could.

‘Sure thing, dad’ I said, giving him the hug.

#clone #scifi