the arse man

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I Need Luke Casey As My Hero!

Sexy As Frackin’ Hell, Baby!

Thank You To The Daily Word For Sending This To Me!

i’m only human, i make mistakes
i’m only human, that’s all it takes
to put the blame on me
                                                   don’t put the blame on me

↳ For @extrakyloren

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Hump Day Hijinks!

Has This Man Ever Heard Of Jockstraps?

Sorry, But There Are Times When Modesty Makes A Man Sexier!

So Do Jockstraps, IMHO!!

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Just Because…

It’s A Cold January Day, And I Want To Get Warm With A Beautiful Man In A Speedo With Magnificently Muscular Hindquarters!

That’s Why!

Woof, Baby!

Alicia is P.O.T.U.S

Based off of this tumblr prompt  

Some people had really good head canons for this but I’ve changed things around a bit.  Hope no one minds.

- - - -

Alicia Zimmermann is President of the United States.  Jack Zimmermann is a Hockey player for the Washington Capitals.  He has just finished his rookie year when the story starts.

- - - -

“I want to run for re-election.”

The way his father doesn’t flinch tells Jack he knew before they all sat at the breakfast table. Before Jack said good morning, before he grabbed the milk jug and poured himself a tall glass, before he accepted his egg white omelette with a thanks for Trudy who smiled back and said good morning when he said it to her.

His mother told him, when he’d been curious and feeling grown up enough to ask what made a lasting relationship, that the key was communication.  “Constant communication – you can never over-do it like you can under do it.” She said.  So of course his father knew.

He should have expected this really, not the announcement, though of course that should have been a no brainer.  His father knowing might not have been a show of relationship solidarity so much as a token gesture to prove that she might be President of the United States but she was also his wife Alicia Zimmermann and she still believed in the things she did when they were first married.  Never mind all the times she didn’t on the journey to get here.

“Jack?” He looks at his father who looks like he’s trying not to be disproportionally concerned. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea either.  He knows what’s happening to Jack right now.  He can feel the vibrations in the earth beneath them too.  “Thoughts?”

Jack has no thoughts. He has a high pitched ringing in his head that makes him afraid to open his mouth in case he lets it loose.  He has no words, no words they want to hear, no words he wants to say while there are people outside not even pretending not to eavesdrop.  Besides, she’s already made up her mind.  His mother’s asking him what he thinks hoping she’ll say it’s fine but already knowing it doesn’t matter.  It’s always been like this.  She’s always letting people know about her decisions out of courtesy, not because she cares what people think.

“Does it matter?” He manages to croak out.

“What? Of course it does.” Her voice is gentle like she’s trying to soothe the anxious child he used to be.

He’s not a child anymore. A humourless laugh spills free, “Does it though? You said one term.  Ater-“ he breaks off and the air takes on the weight of what he’s referring to, “after it happened you said that it would be one term. That I was more important to you.” He hates the way his voice breaks, “You promised.”

“But you’re doing so well now.” She winds an arm around his shoulder but any comfort he ever derived from her soft embrace, from the way the vanilla of her perfume would wrap around him, has gone.  This isn’t the first time he’s noticed it but it’s the first time he’s noticed how long it’s been since he remembers the first time it happened.  “You’ve played phenomenally all through the finals.  I was, I am, proud of how far you’ve come.  How confident you are now.”

Jack swallowed, “So because I’m not in danger of overdosing now you think another term is on the table? That that’s not going to change anything?”

His mother’s squeeze of his shoulders feels like she’s trying to force him not console him and he has to wiggle free, to gain some space around him so his ribs can move to breathe.  “Jack calm down.”

“Calm down?” He hiccups trying to remember his calming count.  “No.” He blurts.  “No to this second term.  If you’re asking me, it’s a no.”

“Jack sit down son.” Bob has a hand on his shoulder but he needs space.  This room is too small.  He feels crowded and hot.  He crosses to the window and throws it open.  A small red light goes off on the security lock at the base.  It reminds him of how trapped he really is and he loses count again.  “Jack you need to breathe.”

“I’m trying!” He shouts.

“Ma’am is everything okay?” A distant unfamiliar voice asks from across the room.

Jack hears his mother speak but her words don’t register.  He’s retreated into himself, far within where all he has to worry about is what’s happening to his body.  It’s not until she’s standing behind him at the window, her hand cool on the back of his neck that he feels himself expand and fill his body up again. He grips the curtain cord.  “In for three out for four remember?”

He shakes her touch off again, “I remember.” He snaps.

Bob leans back and his chair creaks.  “I know you’re not happy about this.”

What gave it away? Jack wants to snap but instead he retorts, “But it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.” Bob argues.  It almost sounds like Jack can believe him.  “It matters.  If you’re worried that to go through another election race will make you backslide then it matters.”

Make him backslide. Like he’s just an addict who needs to try harder not to fall off the wagon.  “What happens if I say no?”

Alicia straightens at the look Bob shoots her.  “Then we don’t run again.  Right?”

She hesitates.

“Right?”

“I’m not asking you to give up hockey-” She says.

“Alicia!” Bob growls.

“I’m just asking you to trust me.  To trust yourself.  You’re stronger than you think you are.”

Jack turns back to the window surveying the methodical maintenance going on on the south lawn. Mowers ride up and down the grounds cutting uniform lines across the grass, the gardeners trim at the flower beds creating an impressively neat line between the soil and the freshly mowed grass. “And if I’m not?”

“You are.” She insists.

Bob sighs her name again and again she ignores him.  “I have so much work left to do Jack.” She sounds scared about it, like the moment she steps down everything she worked for will be erased.

She’s probably right.

Jack pushes off from the windowsill and stalks across the room.

“Where are you going?” Alicia follows him with her eyes but her feet stay glued to the carpet.

“I have to get out of here.”

“You can’t-“

He whirls around, “Is that a presidential order?” He growls.

Alicia rears back wide eyed, “Of course not.”

Jack’s chest heaves in the thick oppressive air between them.  “I need to think about it.” Like that’s going to make a damn bit of difference.

She dares a small smile, probably hoping it looks more sad than triumphant.  It doesn’t.

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