astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
and about forgiveness, we're both
i'm sorry honey but i passed out, now
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and about forgiveness, we're both
i'm sorry honey but i passed out, now
closed 1x1 between
astrowrld
and
trailerboi
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
[class=variables]
--accent: #851414;
--image: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/84/8a/c0/848ac0ce454817821385ec8c4131ed3d.jpg');
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[div class=header]wesley caldwell.[/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Wesley wished he had really, truly listened when his grandfather told him to never look a gift horse in the mouth. Because as he drove up the ridiculously long driveway headed towards the Viviano mansion, he realized he might have made a mistake in choosing this as his next job opportunity. Granted, Alessandro Viviano reached out to him personally for the job, so it wasn't entirely Wesley's fault that he was here, but he did have himself to blame slightly for it. His hands tightened around the steering wheel slightly, knuckles turning white, as he approached the second and hopefully final gate, being let through when he gave his name and showed some ID.
He parked his car, and letting out a deep breath, turned off the ignition, getting out and shutting the door behind him. The weather was slightly chilly, making Wesley wish he wore a slightly thicker jacket, and he quickly made his way to the door, his thoughts racing as he did so. Alessandro had mentioned something about Miles, the person Wesley was supposed to be protecting, as being slightly stubborn and extremely adamant about the fact that he didn't need a bodyguard, and so all Wesley was really worried about was just how exactly this whole thing was going to work โ if Miles didn't want his protection, then just how hard was it going to be to actually protect him?
Wesley knocked once on the door, and after a few moments, the door swung open, Alessandro standing behind it. Wes had to admit, he was almost immediately intimidated, but tried not to explicitly show it. Wesley stepped inside the house, sticking his hand out for Alessandro to shake. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Viviano." He said, giving the man a slight nod. "Glad you arrived on time, Mr. Caldwell," Alessandro began, beginning to walk down the hall of the home, Wesley following close behind. "There isn't many other details we have to work out for what your duties will be, considering we've discussed them in detail already. You will be living here at the mansion, you'll have your own quarters, and you're expected to, at the very least, accompany Miles if he ever leaves the grounds."
Wesley nodded again, Alessandro giving a tight smile in response. "I have many enemies out there, Mr. Caldwell. They're willing to use anything to get to me, and that is why I've hired you. Your only duty from here on out is to protect Miles with your life, and I expect you to do that well." Alessandro said, and Wesley nodded again. "I promise you, Mr. Viviano, I don't take my craft lightly. Miles will be as safe as possible."
And with that, Alessandro continued to walk, heading towards what Wesley assumed was the kitchen. If he was going to be protecting Miles, he had to meet him at some point, didn't he? Alessandro opened another door, and they both walked in, obviously interrupting a conversation happening between what looked like to be mother and son. "Sorry to interrupt, but this is important. This is Wesley Caldwell, he's the one I brought to protect you, Miles." Alessandro spoke, and Wesley nodded at the much younger man, already getting a sinking feeling that this was going to be much more difficult than he anticipated. Great.[/div][/div]
[div class=tagbar]
[div class=tagcont][div class=tag]interactions[/div]
alessandro viviano, miles viviano. [/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]tags[/div]
trailerboi
[/div]
[div class=tagcont][div class=tag]location[/div]
the viviano mansion[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]mood[/div]
tired, irritated, a bit confused[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]outfit[/div]
here [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [class=bkg] height: 475px; width: 555px; background: #ededed; margin: auto; cursor: url('http://i.imgur.com/ZOrzC.png'), auto !important; [/class] [class=sidebar] height: 445px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 10px; top: 15px; background: var(--image); background-size: cover; background-position: center center; [/class] [class=header] font-size: 30px; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); width: max-content; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; [/class] [class=post] width: 320px; height: 410px; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; white-space: pre-wrap; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class=scroll] overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; width: 100%; height: 100%; padding-right: 25px; [/class] [class=tagbar] height: 410px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 445px; top: -850px; display: flex; justify-content: space-evenly; flex-direction: column; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=tagcont] height: max-content; width: 100px; position: relative; [/class] [class=tag] font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); font-size: 13px; text-align: center; display: inline; [/class]
alessandro viviano, miles viviano. [/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]tags[/div]
trailerboi
[/div]
[div class=tagcont][div class=tag]location[/div]the viviano mansion[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]mood[/div]
tired, irritated, a bit confused[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]outfit[/div]
here [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [class=bkg] height: 475px; width: 555px; background: #ededed; margin: auto; cursor: url('http://i.imgur.com/ZOrzC.png'), auto !important; [/class] [class=sidebar] height: 445px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 10px; top: 15px; background: var(--image); background-size: cover; background-position: center center; [/class] [class=header] font-size: 30px; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); width: max-content; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; [/class] [class=post] width: 320px; height: 410px; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; white-space: pre-wrap; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class=scroll] overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; width: 100%; height: 100%; padding-right: 25px; [/class] [class=tagbar] height: 410px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 445px; top: -850px; display: flex; justify-content: space-evenly; flex-direction: column; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=tagcont] height: max-content; width: 100px; position: relative; [/class] [class=tag] font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); font-size: 13px; text-align: center; display: inline; [/class]
trailerboi
Clarice
Miles Viviano
Milesโ day did not start out great. The night before he had spent partying, hopping from club to club with a group of people he liked to call his friends but were really only hanging around him because he had money and connections. At the last club he went to, he found some guy that piqued his interest. He was tall, muscular, and best of allโฆ dumb. He took the guy home, hooked up, and then the night ended, and his terrible day started.
It began with his mother finding Miles in bed with his dummy from the club. โOh my god, Miles!โ She exclaimed as the man pulled his pants up and hurried from the room. โHow many times do we have to go over it? You canโt just bring random men into our home! Itโs dangerous.โ She walked over to the closet, pulling the door open. She didnโt wait for Milesโ response before continuing on, โToday, youโre meeting your new bodyguard.โ
Miles sat up in alarm. โWhat? No! No, no!โ He stared at his mom with wide eyes. โI donโt need some meathead to follow me around!โ
She turned her sharp gaze onto her son, and he immediately shut up. There was a reason she was married to a mafia boss. She was terrifying. โYou need a bodyguard. People could use you to get to your father or me.โ She pulled out a pair of pants, looking at it.
Miles rolled his eyes. โMom! I can dress myself!โ
โFine. Meet me in the kitchen when youโve dressed.โ She turned on her heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Miles dressed in a pair of black jeans, cuffing them, a white shirt, and a windbreaker. He ran a hand down his face as he stared in the mirror, scowling. That stupid fucking brute from the club left a fat ass hickey right under his jaw. He poked at it before rolling his eyes and walking down to the kitchen. โMom, I really donโt think I need a bodyguard. I can handle myself.โ
โSweetheart, you weigh less than the dog. I could throw you if I wanted to.โ She set a mug of coffee in front of Miles and two ibuprofen. โFor your headache.โ She told him.
The door opened just as Miles downed the pills, and he frowned at the man who accompanied his father into the room. He glared at the man as his father introduced him. Wesley. โHi.โ He said in a flat tone before turning to his father. โDad, I really donโt think this whole thing is necessary.โ
It began with his mother finding Miles in bed with his dummy from the club. โOh my god, Miles!โ She exclaimed as the man pulled his pants up and hurried from the room. โHow many times do we have to go over it? You canโt just bring random men into our home! Itโs dangerous.โ She walked over to the closet, pulling the door open. She didnโt wait for Milesโ response before continuing on, โToday, youโre meeting your new bodyguard.โ
Miles sat up in alarm. โWhat? No! No, no!โ He stared at his mom with wide eyes. โI donโt need some meathead to follow me around!โ
She turned her sharp gaze onto her son, and he immediately shut up. There was a reason she was married to a mafia boss. She was terrifying. โYou need a bodyguard. People could use you to get to your father or me.โ She pulled out a pair of pants, looking at it.
Miles rolled his eyes. โMom! I can dress myself!โ
โFine. Meet me in the kitchen when youโve dressed.โ She turned on her heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Miles dressed in a pair of black jeans, cuffing them, a white shirt, and a windbreaker. He ran a hand down his face as he stared in the mirror, scowling. That stupid fucking brute from the club left a fat ass hickey right under his jaw. He poked at it before rolling his eyes and walking down to the kitchen. โMom, I really donโt think I need a bodyguard. I can handle myself.โ
โSweetheart, you weigh less than the dog. I could throw you if I wanted to.โ She set a mug of coffee in front of Miles and two ibuprofen. โFor your headache.โ She told him.
The door opened just as Miles downed the pills, and he frowned at the man who accompanied his father into the room. He glared at the man as his father introduced him. Wesley. โHi.โ He said in a flat tone before turning to his father. โDad, I really donโt think this whole thing is necessary.โ
tags:
astrowrld
astrowrld
coded by dwale
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
[class=variables]
--accent: #851414;
--image: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/84/8a/c0/848ac0ce454817821385ec8c4131ed3d.jpg');
[/class]
[div class=variables]
[div class=bkg]
[div class=sidebar][/div]
[div class=header]wesley caldwell.[/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]At the sight of the younger Viviano, Wesley raised his eyebrow a little, but tried to not show his immediate irritation at his situation on his face. Of course Miles would find this unnecessary, but Mr. Viviano had other ideas. Wesley nodded his hello to Miles, before smiling softly at his mom, unsure if he should say anything, before deciding against it. He felt on edge with the immediate scrutiny he was receiving, Mr. Viviano finally filling the silence.
"It's most definitely necessary, Miles," Alessandro started, looking over at his son, "considering how much you love to sneak out and bring people into our home that shouldn't be here." Ah, so it was one of those situations. Wesley held his tongue, not wanting to speak over his boss, but he figured he had to say something eventually. "I'm just here to keep you safe. Life can still go on like normal, I'll just be a shadow in the background to make sure you're safe." He explained, hoping his words wouldn't fall on deaf ears.
He knew how it felt to feel as if your life is controlled from every aspect, and he didn't want to put those kinds of limitations on Miles. Sure, his father might have other ideas for how Miles' protection would look, but Wesley had his limitations for this, especially considering how against this whole thing Miles seemed. Wesley leaned against the countertop, crossing his arms over his chest. "You may feel like you don't need protection, Miles, but this is for your safety and our family's safety." Alessandro explained, Wesley nodding along with his words. He looked Miles up and down, not in a checking him out way, more just so see exactly what he was working with here.
Wesley had already be schooled on Miles' habits, such as going to clubs and bringing home random hookups every once in a while, and Wesley knew what to expect with that. It wasn't exactly the end of the world, but like Wesley said, he'd just be a shadow in the background. He didn't want to full out ruin this kid's life.
[/div][/div]
[div class=tagbar]
[div class=tagcont][div class=tag]interactions[/div]
alessandro viviano, miles viviano. [/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]tags[/div]
trailerboi
[/div]
[div class=tagcont][div class=tag]location[/div]
the viviano mansion[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]mood[/div]
exasperated, tired[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]outfit[/div]
here [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [class=bkg] height: 475px; width: 555px; background: #ededed; margin: auto; cursor: url('http://i.imgur.com/ZOrzC.png'), auto !important; [/class] [class=sidebar] height: 445px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 10px; top: 15px; background: var(--image); background-size: cover; background-position: center center; [/class] [class=header] font-size: 30px; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); width: max-content; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; [/class] [class=post] width: 320px; height: 410px; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; white-space: pre-wrap; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class=scroll] overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; width: 100%; height: 100%; padding-right: 25px; [/class] [class=tagbar] height: 410px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 445px; top: -850px; display: flex; justify-content: space-evenly; flex-direction: column; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=tagcont] height: max-content; width: 100px; position: relative; [/class] [class=tag] font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); font-size: 13px; text-align: center; display: inline; [/class]
alessandro viviano, miles viviano. [/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]tags[/div]
trailerboi
[/div]
[div class=tagcont][div class=tag]location[/div]the viviano mansion[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]mood[/div]
exasperated, tired[/div] [div class=tagcont][div class=tag]outfit[/div]
here [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [class=bkg] height: 475px; width: 555px; background: #ededed; margin: auto; cursor: url('http://i.imgur.com/ZOrzC.png'), auto !important; [/class] [class=sidebar] height: 445px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 10px; top: 15px; background: var(--image); background-size: cover; background-position: center center; [/class] [class=header] font-size: 30px; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); width: max-content; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; [/class] [class=post] width: 320px; height: 410px; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; position: relative; left: 125px; top: -440px; white-space: pre-wrap; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class=scroll] overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; width: 100%; height: 100%; padding-right: 25px; [/class] [class=tagbar] height: 410px; width: 100px; position: relative; left: 445px; top: -850px; display: flex; justify-content: space-evenly; flex-direction: column; font-family: Inter; color: black; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=tagcont] height: max-content; width: 100px; position: relative; [/class] [class=tag] font-family: Abril Fatface; color: var(--accent); font-size: 13px; text-align: center; display: inline; [/class]
trailerboi
Clarice
Miles Viviano
Miles watched Wesley for a moment, taking in his appearance. At least his bodyguard could be used as some eye-candy, but he was not going to hook up with this guy. He didnโt think fucking his bodyguard would be a positive experience, and he was already well prepared to hate this guy. After staring at Wesley for far too long, he let out a sigh and turned his gaze onto his father. โFine. Whatever.โ He looked at Wesley, finally talking to him. โSo are you just gonna follow me around now?โ
He didnโt want some guy forcing himself into Milesโ life. He liked having the freedom to do what he wanted and do it without problem, and Wesley was definitely going to be a problem. He liked pretending his father wasnโt some crime boss, but apparently, pretending was over. His mother set a hand on Milesโ shoulder and said, โMiles, youโll still have privacy. Donโt be rude. Heโs here to help.โ She squeezed Milesโ shoulder just hard enough that he winced. โOkay, I get it.โ Miles shook his momโs hand off.
He didnโt want some guy forcing himself into Milesโ life. He liked having the freedom to do what he wanted and do it without problem, and Wesley was definitely going to be a problem. He liked pretending his father wasnโt some crime boss, but apparently, pretending was over. His mother set a hand on Milesโ shoulder and said, โMiles, youโll still have privacy. Donโt be rude. Heโs here to help.โ She squeezed Milesโ shoulder just hard enough that he winced. โOkay, I get it.โ Miles shook his momโs hand off.
tags:
astrowrld
astrowrld
coded by dwale
