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joshdonnas · 2 months ago

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do you have any j/d fic recs? :D

Absolutely!! This fandom is really blessed with some of the best writers I've seen, so there's a lot of really good content out there to read, but I'll list some of my favorites under the cut ☺️

FAVORITE AUTHORS 💛

I thought I'd start by listing some of my authors, I’ll also be listing some of my personal favorite fics from theirs down bellow, but any of their works are totally worth the read:

FAVORITE FICS (in no particular order) 💛

running, by andyoureturntome (work in progress, rated M): "Matt Santos is running for president. Josh and Donna are just running away. Augmented canon for seasons six and seven. Ventures into AU territory from 6x18 on." (when I say this is one of my favorite fics ever you have no idea how much I mean it. it’s honestly so good, a must read in my opinion. it’s still in progress, and it’s not updated very frequently , but it’s still so so worth it (here’s to hoping we’ll get a next chapter soon!!).

the other side of the door, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated M): "Donna wanders out of the bathroom, baffled by how late it is for the hundredth night in a row, and she drapes her coat over a chair before moving to plug in her cell phone. The blinking light catches her attention, and she flips it open. One missed call. From Josh. Perfect. Post-ep for 7x13: The Cold." (I honestly read this one every time I watch the cold)

say you’ll never let them tear us apart, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "what would it be like in the santos era for josh and donna to get media coverage as a couple?"

love grows (where my donnatella goes), by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "the first year of the santos administration in four parts"

how i love the view when i'm beside you, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Josh and Donna on Valentine's Day; Chiefs of Staff era J/D"

cutting me open then healing me fine, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna are in the press room when it gets shot at, and the trajectory of a bullet changes the trajectory of their lives. Evidence of Things Not Seen AU."

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

even cnn is wrong, sometimes, by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "She snakes her hand between them, high instead of low, wrapping it around his bowtie. Starts to pull. And it’s this that snaps him out of it. Because Josh Lyman isn’t a press secretary and he isn’t a communications director and he isn’t Sam or Toby and he sure as hell isn’t Will, but he’s spent enough time around enough writers to appreciate the art of analogy (at the end of the night you wanna be able to pull it open like tony bennett), to recognize symmetry (donna? my tie’s falling apart), to understand that codas don’t exist merely in cello suites or stump speeches; that life makes space for sartorial bookends, too. Like bowties being tied, then untied." (utterly obsessed with the way this author writes)

gather ye rosebuds, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "A one and done smutshot, canon-divergent from 20 Hours in LA, in which Josh realizes where his rosebuds are and goes back to his hotel room to gather them."

we've been living on a fault line, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "6x02: Josh spends five days at Camp David, and every night all he thinks about is Donna."

burning slowly, my one and only, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated T): "I can't stop thinking about you."

sacred new beginnings, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): " But now, he doesn’t need her anymore – or he shouldn’t, anyway. So she’ll go back to her apartment, and he’ll go back to work, and things will go back to normal, whatever the hell that means. There’s something about that idea that makes his stomach churn."

an act of charity, by thatTWWgirl (finished, rated T): "A date with the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is put up for auction at the First Lady's fundraiser, and he's not too happy about it."

domestic days, by spooky_spacegirl (finished, rated G): "One day Josh and Donna look around and realize that, somewhere along the line, they have slipped into something that can only be described as Domesticated. One-Shot collection. Post-Canon." (so so so cute, never fails to bring a smile to my face)

this is the wonder (that's keeping the stars apart), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (work in progress, rated T): "A soulmate AU".

I want It all or nothing, no more in between, by scarmophogoghs (finished, rated E): "Want to go to Hawai'i? With me? Please?” (huuuge Hawaii fit we all cheered)

stuck with nowhere to go, by littlefoolswritings (finished, rated E): "what if it was only Josh and Donna who'd been left behind by the motorcade? just the two of them?)" (I love this one my god)

a pathological avoidance thing, by yanak324 (finished, rated M): "Josh isn’t sure what to make of the lack of surprise on the President-elect’s face when he explains why he’s taking time off. He has bigger fish to fry though." (this one is from Josh's POV, and this one is from Donna's!)

when a woman loves a man (who loves a woman), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "“You’re sensitive. It’s sweet.” She bites back a smile at the image she’s evoked. Everyone thinks they know the real Josh Lyman. Bartlet’s bulldog, political wunderkind, the man behind Washington’s curtain. But they don’t know him like this. She brushes a sweaty tangle of hair from his forehead and pretends not to notice when he leans into her touch. No, this side of him is reserved just for her. His mouth opens in surprise, voice pitching up a notch, “I am n—” “Your system,” she amends. “Your system is sensitive.”"

of the united states, by violet_storms (finished, rated G): "Fifty states, fifty sentences, fifty snapshots of Josh and Donna falling in love on the campaign trail."

on the line, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated G): "Josh and Donna and a pathological inability to hang up the phone."

you can run (but only so far), by swancharmings (finished, rated M): "The room is quaint, if a bit tacky, one sad sprig of holly greeting them at the door. A fine representation of how she feels this Christmas."

love is the only thing, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "The Moss-Lyman girls read Little Women; Josh has a lot of feelings."

it was like autumn, looking at her, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "His eyelids flutter open, gentler than usual. Blearily, he catches the alarm clock blinking a red 7:48 a.m. If this were five years ago, he would already be on his third cup of coffee. If this were five months ago, he never would have made it to bed in the first place. But it’s now—and he wraps his arm tighter around Donna’s waist."

it's paradise as long as I'm with you, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated E): "Hawaii."

only bought this dress so you could take it off, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "josh has a thing for donna in red (as he should)"

nothing that i wouldn't do (to make you feel my love), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Josh re-arranges his priorities. A Gaza hospital fix-it fic." (I'm always thinking about this one)

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "On the drive, it starts to hit him. Leah was born on the anniversary of the Rosslyn shooting. What would this mean for him? Leah deserved a father who wouldn’t be absolutely miserable on his daughter’s birthday every year. Of course, he’d love to think that her birth could erase all of the negative feelings he’s ever had toward this day, that it could make all of the anxiety and trauma melt away. But if he couldn’t pull it together on the day she was born, the day she came into the world, what evidence does he have to support the idea that next year will be better? Or the year after that?"

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

how to say I love you in subtext, by RhapsodyInProgress (finished, rated T): "If you know where to look and what to listen for, Josh and Donna have been telling each other how they feel for years. A series of vignettes on a theme."

annus primus, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "The first year of the Santos administration, in twelve movements."

sit with you in the trenches, by swancharmings (finished, rated T): "”So you’ve got health and strength.” “And we’ll steal the rest?” “Bet your ass.” // Four ways they did exactly that."

oversight, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "War Crimes angst + hooking up" (a MUST read!!!)

can't call you a stranger (but i can't call you), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "King Corn. The elevator gets stuck."

for a long time, by onelargecoffeepls (finished, rated M): "Seven short glimpses into Donna falling in love with Josh based on "Love You For A Long Time" by Maggie Rogers."

this is how mythology is written (or: shards; scars; and whole again), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "The mosaic of Josh and Donna." (GOD this one!!!)

where the lovelight gleams, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Donna brings Josh home for Christmas and has some thoughts about him in a holiday sweater; takes place during Transition" (OBSESSED!!!)

the way old friends do, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "Donna, Toby, Charlie, and the chaotic people they love."

the first 100 days, by BimadaBomily (finished, rated T): "100 moments in Josh/Donna's relationship during the first 100 days of the Santos Administration."

like we were in paris (we were somewhere else), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (work in progress, rated M): "Josh, Donna, and the worlds they transform together // or: an ode to Paris (Taylor's Version)" (again, the way this author writes??!!?!)

find ourselves in the winter snow, by swancharmings (finished, rated E): "It’s when he leads her to dance, holding her impossibly close and swaying gently through the upbeat tempo, that she truly doesn’t know what to expect of the evening."

please linger near the door, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "They’re definitely not dating when there is a presidential dinner and they don’t think to invite dates. Instead, they assume they’ll go with each other. Him in a black tux, her in a red dress. Their arms are interlocked as they enter the ballroom, and Donna even goads Josh into dancing with her. It’s friendly, nothing more. They’re just having sex. That’s it."

with one hello, I'll never be the same, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna and how 'hi' means so much more than 'hello'."

all you ever wanted from me (was sweet nothin'), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Donna hadn’t had a nightmare about her ex since she started dating Josh, since well before she moved in with Josh after their week in Hawaii, since her life became better than it ever has been, since she became happier than she ever thought that she could be. Which is probably why she’s so shaken when the nightmare returns. Set post-series, in the Santos CoS era." (soooo sweet)

AUs 💛

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "In the aftermath of the First Lady's birthday party, Josh, Donna, and the rest of the Senior Staff deal with the fallout of Donna's realization that she's no longer a U.S. Citizen. CJ, Sam, and Toby have taken it upon themselves to get this figured out, and it’s a good thing, because Josh’s brain can only present him with one solution: Marry Donna Moss."

my days now end as they began (with thoughts of you), by flowersinapril (work in progress, rated T): "A new neighbour moves in next door to Josh and she isn't happy with how loud and chaotic he is." (can't wait for the next chapter of this one!!!)

sometimes it's like you grew up down the street, by starsontheceiling (finished, rated G): "Afterwards, he’ll say he did it without thinking and all their friends will laugh at him in disbelief, and he understands why but it’s still true."

you came like a resolution (under a starry sky), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Donna, this is my brother, Josh. Josh, this is Donna. She lives across the hall"

an everlasting love, by sam_writes_fics (work in progress, rated T): "best man and maid of honor au" (has not been updated in a while but I love the idea of this pic so so much and I think about constantly)

think i missed the gun at the starting line, by ansatz (finished, rated T): "After qualifying for the Olympics in 2016, but being unable to compete due to an injury, Donna Moss is back, ready to run, and completely focused on earning a medal for Team Canada. Enter Josh Lyman, reigning Olympic champion with a heart of—you guessed it—gold. Two countries, two sports: one chance to fall in love?"

what if i told you, i feel like i know you? but we never met., by donnatellamoss (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss meets an unfamiliar face when she knocks on Sam Seaborn’s door for their English project. His name’s Josh Lyman and he’s good at bothering people."

absolutely smitten (never let you go), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): "Josh feels all the air whoosh out of his lungs when he sees the teacher standing on the other side of the door. She looks at the group standing outside her door, puzzled for a moment, until her blue eyes lock with Josh’s. Her blonde hair is tucked neatly behind her ears, and pumpkin earrings dangle from her earlobes. She’s wearing a copper-colored fall sweater, adorned with leaves around the collar that match her bulletin board. Her ID badge dangles from her neck, one of those ink pens in a bright, funky color clipped to her lanyard. “Miss Moss,” CJ says. “This is Mr. Lyman from the high school."" (always thinking about this one honestly I need more!!!)

the campaign around the corner, orphan_account (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss is working for Howard Stackhouse's presidential campaign in 1998. Josh Lyman is working for Jed Bartlet's presidential campaign in 1998. The two cannot stand each other. Little do they know the person each of them is beginning to fall in love with over email is the other." (you've got mail au!!!!!!!!!!)

everybody talks (it started with a whisper), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Being the White House Press Secretary, Josh realizes, is one of the toughest jobs in the administration to begin with. But with her co-workers' propensity for going viral, CJ certainly deserves a raise. The West Wing, set 20 years later." (soooo obsessed with this one MY GOD)

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be), by mikaylawrites (finished, rated M): "The story of rising country singers Josh Lyman and Donna Moss." (so good!!!)

ballerina, you've must have seen her, by thababes (work in progress, rated G): "It was always supposed to have been Josh and Mandy. After their successful run of Carmen, it had been expected that The Washington Ballet would stick to what worked. There was never supposed to be another audition. Company principles seemingly traveling from role to role was the usual. It had been an unusual season — schedule conflicts and last minute alternate class partners — and suddenly, everything seemed to have changed. And it had all started when he had danced with her." (I think about this one constantly)

#this ended up so big and it's still missing a lot of fics I love aaaa #it brought me physical pain not listing some fics here but like I said read all the work from those authors #hope you enjoy them as much as I do anon!#fic rec #josh x donna #the west wing #request

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my-my-my · 4 months ago

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Aizen, Calligraphy and Poems (?)

In addition to getting into fountain pens, I have also started to read waka poems, which are Japanese poems. While I’m personally not interested in calligraphy as a hobby, reading about the historical aspects of Japanese calligraphy and waka poems made me curious about Aizen’s relationship with calligraphy, and by extension - poetry. We don’t know much about him in relation to those two things other than:

Aizen enjoyed Japanese calligraphy/considered it a hobby

He was so good at calligraphy that he was teaching it at the academy

Hinamori began to practice calligraphy during his captaincy and he held monthly calligraphy sessions for his squad

Aizen had a column in the Sereitei Communication called “The Yin of the Pine Needle”

Japanese calligraphy is a subject often taught to children in elementary school, but it has even older historical roots tied to professional warriors of the bushi rank (samurais are a part of this ranking system). These warriors were trained in bujutsu – were bu means war, and jutsu means technique, and budo. Budo doesn’t quite have a direct translation, but some describe it as the ��martial ways to peace.” Even within budo, there were two “emphasis” students needed to focus on: 1) bu which were war and combat strategies, and; 2) bun which were Japanese literature and fine arts. Warriors of the highest ranking were expected to learn all of this, and some students were even expected to learn the flute (shakuhachi), Noh dancing (shimai) and flower arrangement (kado – which was one of Unohana’s hobbies!).

Japanese calligraphy, known as shodo was considered a vital part of a warrior’s training – so it is of no surprise that the Soul Academy, would incorporate it in their curriculum as a class, in addition to kido and sword fighting training.

But why is shodo so important to a warrior’s learning?

Well to many warriors, if sword fighting was considered a reflection of one’s mind (see my post here about Aizen and Kyoka suitgetsu), then shodo is the physical representation of the artist’s spiritual force. Shodo is more than just writing – it is a visible way to sense a warrior’s mental and physical condition. For centuries, leaders in Japan were expected to be strong calligraphers, and some of the best sword fighting masters in history, such as Miyamoto Musashi, were also regarded as some of the best calligraphers of their time.

Each brush stroke must be precise and unwavering – there isn’t room for corrections. An artist must be decisive once the brush hits the paper. The same can be said for sword fighting. You do not swing your sword “hoping” you will get a strike; you swing your sword because you are certain you will strike. Just like in any of the combat arts Shinigami must learn, mistakes are ultimately final in shodo.

Just like handling a sword, holding a brush is also a particular skill. Some teachers in shodo will grab brushes out of their students hand to check their grip. But the trick is that you can’t have too tight of a grip, as your brushstroke becomes rigid and your writing becomes static. Thus, you must be concentrated, but also relaxed. Shodo has an emphasis on balance and flowing, dynamic characters, just like with sword fighting. It’s why there’s often difficulty in painting a straight line, because your mind and body must work together as a unit. Once your brush hits the paper, your hand must paint without hesitation – your thoughts are free as they are focused on the “here” and “now” of painting. Aizen, who had a strongly concentrated mind, was also relaxed – his fight with the Gotei 13 in Fake Karakura Town is an example of this.

I already talked about this in a previous post, but Kyoka suigetsu acts as a metaphor for visualizing before striking. Shodo has a similar concept as well. Skilled artists should be able to visualize the kanji they’ll paint, and then make the decision for the first brush stroke. It would not surprise me if the Soul Academy then made calligraphy an elective because for students to be relatively decent at calligraphy, it would be a safe assumption that they would be good with a katana. Both require accuracy and skills to be effective.

Aizen was already a master sword fighter, so it is then, of no surprise, that his calligraphy skills were also unparalleled. While it’s a shame we don’t see any of Aizen’s calligraphy work, he was recognized in his skill in it that he became a teacher. I also wouldn’t be surprised if this was his way to “vibe check” students as potential conspirators with him, because of the underlying assumption that brush, katana and mind are one.

Calligraphy is just one aspect though; some calligraphers were also talented poets! One specifically that comes to mind is Sugawara no Michizane. To be honest, Aizen kind of reminded me of an evil version of him lol. Sugawara no Michizane was a poet, scholar and politician employed to the Emperor of Japan. Long story short, a political conflict arose, where two other clans working for the emperor made comments that suggested Sugawara was trying to usurp power from the Emperor. As such, Sugawara was exiled from the imperial court.

Another fun fact about Sugawara no Michizane, he had a favourite plum tree in the imperial garden! So much so that on the day of his exile, he wrote a poem for it: When the east wind blows/ let it send your fragrance/ oh plum blossoms. / Although your master is gone/ do not forget the spring. The legend goes that Sugawara missed this tree so much that it flew to him during his exile. This gave the plum tree the name: tobiume.

Sugawara died not long after his exile, but the imperial palace, and those who wronged Sugawara, experienced dreadful things. Specifically the Emperor’s palace was destroyed through a fire… which was triggered by lightning. Such as the fall of the Sereitei during the first invasion of the Quincy after Aizen’s defeat (Sasikibe dying and Yamamoto burning Squad 1). While Aizen is indeed alive, the imperial court were incredibly superstitious and made temples in honor of Sugawara. And we have Shunsui (temporarily) releasing Aizen for the war (I admit, this connection is a bit of a reach!)

As for poetry, I again, wish we had an example of some of the things Aizen wrote, but the Yin of the Pine Needle is an interesting title for a reoccurring column! He wrote 50 volumes for it. (For context, Unohana’s column had 1041 volumes.)

In Japanese flower language, pine needles (matsuba) symbolize harmony. The “yin” in Aizen’s column’s title, is a bit more ambiguous, because yin can mean different things in this context. Yin can represent assimilation, quietness, sluggishness, psychological or spiritual work, it can also be interpreted as suppression when yin is associated with emotions. Regardless of what exact meaning Aizen’s column was meant to be, it would be a safe assumption that Aizen was publishing something that was could have been a critique, commentary or something where he’s pointing out the “harmony” either within Soul Society or something more ambiguous lol, is not what it seems.

Here are my rambles, thanks for reading! Would love for Kubo to write more Aizen, but alas! I'm always going to overthink the crumbs we get of Aizen's character lol.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen sosuke #sosuke aizen #aizen #sousuke aizen #I don't know i'm just rambling #aizen meta

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its-your-mind · 6 months ago

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Jon Chester trying to communicate and/or comfort with statements is the cutest and funniest and most in-character shit.

Sam just joined a possibly-evil organization and seems way too interested in gaining knowledge from the stories? Has a history with the Magnus Institute? Well fuck I can’t let him end up back there.

Canaries should stay above ground.

Colin keeps looking too hard into what he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t know enough to stay safe. I have to warm him.

Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed. Scariest movie I have ever seen.

(Brief interlude when Jon finds out that Gerry is alive and has a permanent address which is a big enough ??? and feeling of relief and hope to risk a single email with an address so Sam can go see for him if it really is Gerry, if he’s really alive and if he’s okay (and then he is he’s happy and safe and he paints and goes to art shows and he calls Gertrude GeeGee). Bit of a shame about the name in the email address, though. Who knows, maybe that woman will stop calling him fucking Chester…)

Ahem.

Anyway, Sam won’t let the whole “Magnus Institute” thing go, and now Celia is here? Working here? Recognizing his voice? (Martin had to remind him who Celia was — Jon feels that his lack of remembrance is justified, in this case. Those tunnels blocked off his connection to the Eye! Remember what happened with the camera at Salesa’s? He forgot everything that happened there! Frankly, he’s impressed he even managed to remember meeting Melanie and Georgie down there, let alone the names of their awful annoying cult members. (Jon, be nice. It was the apocalypse). Well, I didn’t see you cozying up with that poet, whatever his name was— (*with sudden disgust* Arun.) *trying to keep a straight face* ah. yes, him.) What is Jon supposed to do about this? Well. Fine. If Sam intends to poke around, Jon can at least make the dangers present there clear.

Statement and Research assessment for artefact CD137. Magnus Institute. … [Transcription ends due to interruption. Statement giver declared dead by paramedics at scene.]

So. They went to the Institute. He knows about all of it, there was a tape recorder there. They were… in the Archives. In the assistants’ area where Tim used to throw the caps of his glitter pens to see how many he could get caught in Sasha’s hair before she noticed. Looking at the decrepit remains of the filing shelves he had been so fucking stressed about organizing. In his office.

Worms tracks on the ground. All paperwork removed or destroyed. And when Sam steps wrong, the tunnels. Oh, Christ. The tunnels. He drops a key down into them as he falls. Alice catches him. They leave. Some…thing takes the key Sam dropped. Unlocks the trapdoor, the one Leitner and Gertrude used to get in and out of the Archives. Here in Manchester, maybe the only way out of the underground passages. The trapdoor opens. Something pulls itself out.

~~~

And now, Alice has been being stalked by drowned corpses. Okay, sure. Yeah, shit uhhh… okay here’s one. Here, look, same kinda thing happened here. That tattoo artist shows up again too! Gotta keep track of reoccurrences. Learn as much as you can — the tip-off about the fire extinguishers saved Jon, Tim, and Martin in the archives. (And Sasha, before that… thing lured her into Artifact Storage.)

It belongs to the deep. I’m going to go get it and I’m going to find it and if they try and stop me I swear the ocean will claim us all. I can taste the salt and spray. It’s waiting in the water.

And now back to Sam. Back to warnings. It’s not just artifacts. The Institute deals with dangerous people, too.

This room, it’s a mess. Printouts, delivery notes, a bunch of rejection letters from some institute he pinned to the wall with a kitchen knife. And it's hot in here, dad. Too hot. Oh god. I can feel it. My throat is swelling. And it itches. I can still hear all the snakes brushing up against the door and... in the walls, I think. Christ, they’re in the walls...

Alice got attacked. He was there, he managed to get a tape on the scene, he heard it all. It was one of the drowned things.

Ink5oul knows something about them. What the hell, right? Michael gave Sasha the tip about the fire extinguishers. Let’s mine another colorful creep for information. Ink5oul dug one of these things up for some reason. Hold on, hold on, he just saw something about them, something about getting some kid to follow them to a graveyard…

We head on through the graves and then they point to one of ‘em and just give me a look. I was no cap shook and then they just said “dig”. I laughed, ‘cause, like, the ‘hell? But they were serious.

And at the same time, Celia keeps waking up on the ground, closer and closer to Oxford each time, like there’s something gently tugging her back towards the world she left. She doesn’t know how to stop it. Jon knows how that feels, the feeling like your own body is just a puppet tangled in invisible strings, at risk of starting a dance you don’t know, to music you can’t hear, at any moment, without any warning.

There isn’t anything that he can really do to help her. But he found it comforting to hear what happened to Gertrude.

I’ve lived Darien’s life for four years now. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think, turns out your world and mine are pretty similar.

CELIA (to computer): Thanks, I guess. Not exactly the same is it?

No. No, it’s not. He knows that there isn’t really any comfort to be found in knowledge when all you learn only points you more and more towards the conclusion that you are alone, and helpless, and powerless against the forces that are dead-set on fucking up your life.

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #chester tmagp #magp 17

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peachiseas · 3 months ago

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Final Update

Kab posted her final update and while that explains everything, a lot of people have been talking about one particular out of context screencap about how Tamarack with male MCs. That's fine; I'm not going to judge anyone for being hurt by that, but I'm going to lay the truth out for everyone.

That was me venting as a closeted bisexual and using a joke with my friends to further cement it was also not that serious. I am bisexual, my friends know this. The leakers knew this and knew that if they posted this, the only way to truly refute that screenshot was by being outed as a bisexual to everyone.

Before anyone asks about my icon: the icon has been there for years, and I hadn't had time to find a suitable change. This change in sexuality was also recent, and by the timestamp in that screencap, it was extremely recent.

I don't own anyone a constant update on my sexuality. I have the right to come out on my own terms, and I'm doing this on my own terms. A little earlier than I wanted (mainly because I wanted an icon to commemorate), but I'm comfortable with my bisexuality enough that I can write this post.

So what now?

I am leaving this community. I have now shelfed multiple projects; from zines to merch to even participating in weekly events. All works of art featuring any Our Life characters that aren't for commission will be put on hold indefinitely.

While everyone was making posts about the situation, I was getting slammed with both anonymous and non anonymous asks. The asks ranged from misgendering me, to saying I'm not transgender and that I'm a woman, to racial slurs (because of course there was). While there have been people who have been supportive in my asks, the hate was overwhelming.

It threatened everything for me: my safety, my privacy, my reputation, my digital footprint, my livelihood, and, more importantly, my peace of mind.

This fandom has been kind to me; it's the sole reason I was able to afford to go to college to finish my degree and rebuy furniture after I lost my house in a fire.

But why should I continue to make art and pour funds into merch for a community that told me that I'm faking my transness? That I'm faking my blackness and my latine heritage?

The same leakers who have leaked my private information were people who paid for my commission services, my merchandise. They wanted our MCs to interact. They wanted me to draw their MCs interacting with mine. They even used my art for stickers in their private server.

I could go on but tell me earnestly: why should I continue creating just for people to consume it while they can have fun running my name, my identity through the mud so frivolously without any thought?

There's a larger conversation about black exploitation to be had, especially when it comes to fandom involvement and how the nonblack populus will appropriate memes and art from black culture while disrespecting the black creators that made them but respectfully, I'm very fucking tired.

I'm going to take a break from this account. I might post. I might not. I hope everyone has a good day. Peace.

#our life #our life: beginnings & always #our life: now and forever

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genericpuff · 3 months ago

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Hi! I came here from your "lore olympus biggest whiff" blog about the finale... I've never read LO but I was always interested in it. However, after reading a few paragraphs of that blog (I didn't read all of it because I didn't want to get too many spoilers), it doesn't seem worth it. Would you recommend it up to a certain chapter? If yes, until which chapter should I read?

Honestly, if you want to read LO, I absolutely highly recommend reading the whole thing, or at least trying to. Not just to give context to the things we're all talking about in these communities, but also because it's about to go behind the Daily Pass wall on August 29th and it'll become even more inconvenient to do so.

I'm personally still a huge sucker for the first season myself because it just has that magic that LO used to have that a lot of us fell in love with in the first place; it still has its flaws, it's definitely the worst of the "Persephone looks like a toddler" era, but the characters feel a lot more real and a lot of the best, most iconic panels from the series come from S1. The first half of S2 also isn't awful, though the art does start to get a bit rough around the edges. It wasn't until the last half of S2 that I personally started to go , "Wait, I don't think Rachel knows what she's doing." That said, I didn't become a full-blown critic of the series until the S2 finale, which is where I firmly believe the comic should have ended (that is, if Rachel had structured the story better to allow for the S2 finale to be the overall series finale).

But you should read as much of it as you can anyways. Even if you can't get through a certain part of the story and decide to DNF, that's fine, but I personally don't want to be the one deciding for folks what they should be reading or how much. I also definitely don't want people forming their opinion of a work like LO entirely through my criticisms of it - the best way for you to form your own opinion, regardless of whether or not it aligns with my own, is to simply read it yourself. I know where I started to lose interest in the series, but you might not feel the same way when you read it yourself. It's definitely happened in the past that people have gone to read LO to "see what all the fuss is about" only to wind up loving it haha and that's great, honestly, I don't want anyone to wind up missing out on something they might like just because of my own opinions about it :' )

Honestly it seems daunting but you can easily read all of LO between today and the 29th, a lot of the earlier S1 episodes are relatively short and the actual pacing of the comic itself throughout the second and third season makes for a very quick reading experience, text bubbles usually aren't too wordy so depending on how fast of a reader you are, you can usually blitz through each episode within 2-3 minutes (that said, I'm also a bit of a faster reader so your reading time may vary). Plus the episode count on the app is also thrown off by several episodes that are purely dedicated to Q&A's, hiatus notices, etc. So it's about a 12-18 hour reading experience give or take, which sounds like a lot, but if you're able to read several chunks of episodes at a time in bursts, it can be done by the time it goes behind DP on the 29th :' )

So yeah ! I do hope you read it for yourself if you're really curious, and if you do, feel free to come back again and tell me about your experience! Did you get through all of it or did you DNF? Did it put any of my own criticisms into better context for you or did you wind up enjoying the series regardless?

Best of luck!! <3

#ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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psychedelic-ink · 11 months ago

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𝐀𝐬 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 - 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 2.6k

chapter summary: you decide to host a New Year's party and when Joel shows up soaked to the bone thanks to the rain, you lead him to the bathroom to dry him up.

warnings: piv, secret relationship, dirty talk, joel getting really creative with the shower head

a/n: let's just consider this little fic an alternative version of the question "what if the outbreak didn't happen plus tommy still doesn't know about you and joel" Normally he would learn before outbreak day no matter if the outbreak happens or not but I wanted to keep the sneaking around bit for this one soooo

I would also like to thank everyone who has been following the story! Every comment is precious to me and I appreciate it more than you realize. I'm so happy people are still enjoying it, I have big plans for this series and I will be finishing it spring time. I hope the new year brings you all peace and happiness, happy new year everyone!

**divider by the talented @saradika-graphics xx

Rain washes away everything. It washes away the dirt of the street, rejuvenates the drying trees, makes the grass greener. In Austin rain truly is a blessing. Every living thing hungers for it. To you, it symbolizes the new beginnings and the losses. You half listen to the chatter between Olivia and Tommy as you peek out the window, smooth drops cascading down the surface. For some, the rain wasn’t an ideal weather to have during New Year’s, but to you, it only made the atmosphere cozier.

The crowded party buzzes around you, people laughing, dancing, and sharing stories. You can't help but notice familiar faces from the community seamlessly mingling with Tommy and Olivia's friends, since you were still relatively new you didn’t know many people other than neighbors and asked them to invite people. The room echoes with the joy of New Year's Eve.

It’s been a painful yet surprising year, to say the least. The loss of your grandfather, the unexpected move, the journey to find yourself. . . all of it had been a bit much, a bit daunting. However, as your mind drifts off to the new room in the old house you realize that some things are truly different. You have people who care about you now. You have the Miller’s, Olivia, your art. All in all, it had also been an amazing year.

The thought makes guilt gnaw at your insides. Tommy still doesn’t know about you and Joel, you were supposed to tell him. . .Joel was supposed to tell him but alas neither of you found the courage to come clean. The past couple of months had been so blissful with him. Neither of you wanted to give that up.

The faint smell of cinnamon reaches your nose and you find yourself smiling even though you’re only slightly worried.

Joel’s late.

“He’s fine,” you hear Tommy whine, turning around you see him rolling his eyes. “He’s a big boy, sweetheart. He’ll be okay in a little bit of rain.”

Big boy, indeed.

“Where is he anyway?” Olivia asks, stuffing her mouth full of crackers.

“He went to drop off Sarah—and there’s plenty of food, you’re not off to war you know. You can eat one at a time.”

Olivia slapped Tommy’s shoulder and took a seat next to him, “Bit weird she’s not gonna be here with us.”

“Sarah’s been beggin’ Joel for months. Finally, he caved when she pulled the ‘you know how hard it’s been for me to make friends’ card. Poor man didn’t stand a chance.”

“So,” you continue, sitting across from them. “They spent Christmas together, just the two of them. That was Joel’s deal. And she’s doing her own laundry for two months.”

“Damn, I hope the party is worth it.” Olivia gives you a mischievous grin, her eyes lighting up as they meet your gaze. "You know," she starts, leaning in slightly, "I have this friend, Jake. . .”

You cut her off, "I'm good, Liv. I'm not looking for anything right now."

"Oh, come on! He's sweet, handsome, and he's got a great sense of humor. You two would hit it off."

Your gaze quickly shifts between Tommy and Olivia. His expression tightens ever so slightly, and you catch the subtle change. Olivia, oblivious, or at least choosing to be, continues.

"Just imagine it. A romantic date, a nice dinner, maybe a movie... He’ll treat you right and if he doesn’t I’ll break his arms."

"Liv, really, I appreciate it, but I'm not ready for that kind of thing. Besides, I'm pretty content with how things are right now."

Olivia narrows her eyes. "It’s been a year, you’re ready for one date. Trust me." Then, much to your horror, she turns to Tommy and gestures to you. “Back me up Tommy, isn’t she ready?”

Tommy clears his throat, looking uncomfortable as ever. He parts his lips and worry knots itself deep in your stomach.

Luckily, you’re saved by a slightly drunk woman you don’t recognize and let out a break of relief. She situates herself next to Tommy, throwing a hand over his broad shoulder, she pulls him close and whispers something in his ear, fingers playfılly dancing over the fabric of his shirt. Olivia rolls her eyes but honestly, you’re happy and grateful for the distraction.

You’re saved a second time when the door opens, the sudden sound of rain drawing your attention. You smile instinctively upon seeing Joel, which is a bit rude you figure, because he looks miserable. His leather jacket is dripping, hair sticking to his forehead. Just how hard was it pouring outside? Must’ve picked up when you, Olivia, and Tommy were chatting along.

Joel, with dropped shoulders and head, spots Tommy first and then you. He makes his way, the defeated walk making him look like a teenager. Tommy bursts out laughing when he sees his older brother, the sound deepens the furrow between Joel’s brows.

“You look like shit!” Tommy says and you notice Olivia desperately trying to hide her laughter behind her palm.

“It’s rainin’ cats and dogs you jackass.” Your eyes move up gradually up his body. The rain had darkened the color of his shirt, the flimsy fabric sticking to the planes of his chest. Heat rises to your cheeks. “Is there anythin’ I can burrow sweet tea? Maybe somethin’ that August left behind?”

“What?” you clear your throat, blinking, you meet his gaze. His knowing smile is enough to set fire between your legs. “Sorry didn’t quite catch that.”

“Shirt,” he says, lips curling. “Unless you want me drippin’ all over your couch, somethin’ dry would be nice.” He raises a brow when you continue to stare at him, dazed. “Maybe your brother left behind somethin’?”

Oh god, he’s spelling every word slow and careful meaning he definitely knows you’ve been ogling him. You get up quickly, ignoring the proximity between your bodies, you’d expected him to take a step back but he was as still as stone. You’re like an open book, hopefully, the pretty lady perched next to Tommy is enough to distract him.

“Yeah, sure,” you answer, breathing a bit heavily. You don’t need to say anything else as you begin to part the crowd, leading him upstairs to the bathroom. You can feel him right behind you, the heat radiating off of him warming your back.

Finally reaching the bathroom, you push him inside and quickly close the door, leaning against it, you let out a breath.

However, you don’t get to breathe in when you feel a pair of lips against your own. You shudder as his soaked chest presses against yours, hands cupping your waist, Joel guides your hips towards him. He’s hard as a rock. He swallows the soft voices climbing up your throat and grinds roughly against you.

“Fuck, honey,” he rasps, dragging his lips to your cheek. “You really know how to get a man goin’.”

“I didn’t even do anything.”

“You starin’ at me like you’re about to devour me ain’t nothin’.” he nips at your neck, your body burning at the sharpness. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Don’t remember saying that,” you tease and thread your finger through the wet locks. “You’re cold.”

“You should warm me up then.”

You slip your hands under his shirt, not missing the way he shudders against you. He brings his lips back up, only an inch away, but refuses to close the distance. You keep stroking him. Warm palms moving up and down against cold and damp skin. Joel’s forehead drops onto yours.

“You do realize there’s a party going on outside right? A part that includes your brother, who we are keeping us a secret from.”

“For someone worried about the crowd you’re doin’ a whole lot to tempt me, darlin’.” he kisses your jaw. “You look beautiful by the way.”

You’re happy to hear that because he was the only reason why you decided to wear a low-cut shimmering silver dress. You had also opted to wear an almost sheer pair of black stockings underneath, giving your legs a lovely glow.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“I love it when you call me sir,” he groans and presses harder against you. Your eyes flutter closed but despite it, you can feel his gaze taking in the bathroom. “You fancied up the place quite a bit.”

A hoarse laughter escapes your throat, “You should thank the crowd downstairs for the fancy towels and the smell of vanilla.”

“You know. . . now that I’m thinkin’ about it it ain’t fair I’m the only one wet.”

“Believe me, Joel, I am soaking wet.”

“That’s not what I meant sunshine,” he gives you a lopsided smile before tugging you towards the tub. “Come’re.”

You wordlessly follow him into the porcelain, your curiosity piqued. His fingertips trace up your waist and find the hidden zipper, slowly, he tugs it down, the sound of it inaudible from the beating of your heart. The dress pools under your knees and your gaze is fixed on him as you step out of the soft fabric. While you’re taking in the sight of his hair curling on his forehead, he takes in the sight of the soft contours of your body. He presses a soft kiss against your stomach, a shudder crawls up your spine.

“Turn around.” He orders, voice dropping to a whisper.

“What about my stockings?”

“I’ll take care of’em.”

You brace your hand against the wall, sticking your ass out, you smile when you hear the hitch of his breath. His knuckles follow the curve of your spine and a second later you hear a loud rip.

“Joel—“

“I’ll get you new ones.” You feel him reaching up and at the same time, he slides your panties to the side. He hums. “You are wet.”

“Told you so.”

You hear a soft click, you’re barely able to register the sound as he begins to dip between your folds and stroke. Somehow your brain whispers to you that he’s adjusting the pressure of the shower head. “What are you doing back there?”

“Remember when you told me how much you enjoyed the different settings when I changed the pipes and the shower head?” You honestly didn’t. “Well, I haven’t, darlin’.”

He turns on the water, away from you thankfully, but you still tense at how cold it is as it gathers at the bottoms of your feet.

“I know baby, I know. It’ll get warmer soon.”

And it does. Your body relaxes, the subtle warmth prompting the arch of your back. Joel gently pushes your legs apart, pushing the shower head between your legs directly onto your—

“Oh god—Joel, fuck—“

“Such a filthy mouth for such a good girl,” he says into your ear. “Bet you’ve done this before sweetheart.”

You had, well. . . You tried. But it hadn’t felt as good at this. A single forceful stream of insistent water massages your clit. The arousal that pulses between your legs is washed away down your thighs. Without even realizing you start to hold your breath and embarrassingly enough you roll your hips.

You need more. You need him.

Your legs part wider, trembling as you try to tell him but instead of sentences needy whimpers echo from your throat. You feel his smile on the back of your neck, teeth scraping your warm skin every time your hips twitch. He starts moving the showerhead and your entire body goes numb. It’s so much but so little at the same time.

“You’re being loud, sweetheart.” You shake your head, trying desperately to bite back the moans. “But maybe you like the idea of our friends hearing how needy you get for me.”

You clench at the words, nails scraping against the smooth surface of the wall.

“Please. . .”

“Please what?”

Damn him.

“Fuck me,” you gasp out. “Fuck me please—I’m. . . I’m going insane.” As if to demonstrate your words, you grind down until the shower head spreads your folds, a groan reverberating in your throat as the water fills every inch. “Just fuck me, give me your cock.”

“What if I say I want you to come like this?”

You don’t even think as you answer, “I’ll cry.”

He stills like the calm before the storm then bursts out laughing. Some logical part of your brain is urging you to shush him, remind him that people might hear but you can’t when he sounds so joyful. His deep voice full of life.

“Fine, sweet tea, you win. Wouldn’t want you to cry durin’ New Year’s.”

Joel turns off the water and you turn, facing him as he does. His eyes widen when you cup his cheeks, he’s so warm now, so soft from the steam. “Let’s head to my bedroom,” you mutter. “Auggie’s spare clothes are there anyway.”

His hands softly land on your hips, thumbs moving over the waistband of your stockings. “You sure?”

“I want to see you when you bury yourself into me.”

That’s all he needs to hear before dragging you out of the bathroom. You both hurry, the sound of the party still lively downstairs. Luckily your bedroom is close to the bathroom so there isn’t much risk as you follow him out half naked, your sparkling dress in hand.

As soon as you both enter the bedroom, his lips are on yours, pushing you towards the bed until the back of your knees hits the edge and you fall. He follows your dive, his weight pleasant on top of you.

Feeling numb with want, you quickly tug his shirt off of him, and his hands fumble with his belt. Joel doesn’t even bother to take his pants off completely. He frees himself with one hand and pushes in without a word. You both moan, mouths inches apart from each other. Neither of you breaks away from the eye contact. It’s so intimate like this. Your cheeks burning at how naked you feel having him witness the parting of your lips, the flutter of your gaze.

You feel so full, so complete. The slow drag of his cock making you see starts every time he presses forward, brushing against something devastating inside you with every move. Tears gather in your lashes and he kisses them away. Then he drags his lips down to your neck, sucking at nipping. Your breath catches in your throat, your back arching as you clench around him. He groans into your skin, thrusts becoming shallow and quick.

“I’m not gonna last, honey,” he rasps. “Tell me where.”

Just as he says that his hand slides between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit. He draws quick circles, your muscles constricting immediately. At the very last second Joel covers your mouth with his own, muffling your cry as you gush around him, insides twitching and pulsing. He swallows the sounds hungrily. “Where?” he growls against your lips.

“On my pussy,” you gasp. “Want to feel you there.”

He tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth before moving away, you spread your legs further, pushing yourself apart with two fingers. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. His hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he strokes himself. It doesn’t take him long to come undone. Your eyes roll when you feel it. The vicious spurt of his come, the way it drips. It feels like it lasts forever. He comes and comes and comes— painting you with his seed.

When he’s done, he slips his softening cock back inside, pushing himself deeper into you. You both whimper in unison, and he nuzzles the crook of your neck. You begin to play with the ends of his hair, nails scratching the back of his neck.

“Happy New Year, Joel.”

“Happy New Year, sweet tea.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller x reader #stay in bed new years special #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic

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desceros · 10 months ago

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me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?

...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]

so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.

...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.

since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.

here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:

“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”

Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year

“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”

“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”

Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.

Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.

They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…

“Show me where it hurts."

so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji

questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:

"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.

"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.

"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat

"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.

"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it

"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.

"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!

"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.

#text tag #feel free to reblog this around. it started out as a thing for turtle fam but we all agreed that it would be fun for The Community #anyway yeehaw let's spend all of february thinking about what to do and then the night of feb 29 doing it RAH #tmntspringshellebration

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wifeofwandamaximoff · 6 months ago

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Fine...

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update I just didn't really have the motivation also I usually don't proofread my work so I do apologize. Also I wanted to update as quick as I can while making this so its a bit smaller then I would've preferred but ill try to make a longer part next time! Also thank you Max for the tips!

"Come in." Weems said from the other side of the doors. Oh how her voice was so raspy and soft. It's like whenever she talks her words are coated in love spider webs.

I step into her office, mentally preparing myself to see her. Once i'm in her office I instantly see her red plump lips that look so inviting. I quickly shake my head slightly to get out of my trance.

"Im here for our art lesson." I said with my stoic expression, my voice sounding like a hundred freshly made blades.

"Ah yes Miss Addams, I apologize I lost track of time." She said apologetically. Which I stared at her. The air in the room wasn't awkward but it wasn't comfortable either. She then decided to interrupt the silence.

"Follow me to the art studio then, this is where we will meet up instead of you coming to my office just like today." She smiled while standing up and walking around her desk.

She opened the door for me, I then step out of her office and wait for her to lead the way. When she was walking on her way to walk in front of me our hand's gently grazed each other. Making me feel spiders crawl in my stomach.

"Here we go Miss Addams." She smiled sweetly while opening a door. Inside there were a bunch of blank canvases, art supplies, etc. Basically any art supplies that some artist wished to have is right here in this very room.

I scan the room to see two canvases set up for the both of us and two stools. I look back at her to see her smiling at me with that soft smile that could make even an Addams's heart melt.

"Lets begin Miss Addams." She smiled, gesturing towards the stools. I stay quiet and go sit on one of the stools. She then goes to occupy the other one.

"Now Miss Addams what do you already know about art?" She asks me. I look at her, thinking if I should answer her or not. Eventually I decided to.

"About how to make art or what is art?" I asked in my icy cold tone. I see her a shiver a bit from that tone making my lips twitch in a small smirk. I quickly turn away, hoping she didn't see it.

"Well I suppose I should be more specific, what is art Miss Addams?" She said while clearing her throat. I see her starting to take off her gloves to reveal her soft porcelain skin.

Seeing her pale skin makes me shiver, but of course my skin was paler. "Art is a way of communicating with your thoughts and feelings, but thats the deeper meaning. Art is an object that is expressed with skill and imagination." I said while getting some acrylic paint out.

Weems just looks at me with a soft smile. "You think outside the box Miss Addams." She compliments. "Your first assignment is to paint what you have on your mind right now. Now this may take a couple of sessions to complete but do not rush."

I then think for a moment, I then look around the room. My eyes then look at her. In that moment I then decided what I was gonna paint.

----

The next day I was roaming the halls when Enid came up to me.

"Bell! The Poe Cup is soon and I was wondering if you could join us? Wednesday said she'll go if you go so please say yes!" Enid squealed. Shaking my shoulders making my tempted to cut off her fingers and stack them right in front of her.

"Ill think about it now please don't ever touch me again." I said before pushing her away. Not too hard but not to soft either.

I then walk to the quad, up from above I see Weems with her binoculars looking down at all the students. Our eyes then lock making her put her binoculars down and smile at me. Making a bowl of spiders crawl in my stomach. Which was definitely a feeling I was unaware of. I then turn away, walking to the art room since it was my free period and deciding to work on my painting for a while.

I peeked back a bit to see Weems with a sad expression before going back into her office.

I walked into the art room and looked over at Weems's painting. It seemed like a painting of black rose. My favorite rose...

"Lets play 21 questions hm? I think its only right since we will be giving these paintings to each other." Weems smiled at me. I just nodded.

"You will got first Weems." I said flatly while giving her my usual glare. She just nodded before thinking for a bit.

"Why did you decide to come to Nevermore?" She asked me after a few minutes. I think about my answer for a bit.

"Because I was in a boarding school in France before. I was there for a few years and I decided I wanted a change of scenery and Wednesday has expressed how much she wanted me to come back through our letters to each other." I said while starting to paint the background. Some clouds with hues of pale yellow.

"A boarding school in France? Wednesday told you she missed you?" Weems said, firing questions at me.

"Wednesday and I are very close. We always did everything with each other and for the question about me going to France for school. I needed to get away from mother and father. They were too affectionate and over-protective." I said while creating soft stroked on my canvas. I look over to see Weems with a bit of a sad look.

"Too affectionate?" She said in a bit of a sad tone which she tried to hide but I caught on right away.

"Yes too affectionate, they would smother me in hugs and kisses and always made sure to know where I was going." I said a bit softer then usual.

She just nodded which I thought was a bit strange but I brushed it off. I then started to think of what I should ask her.

"Do you think angels are good?" I asked. She looked at me perplexed since this was a strange question for me to ask her. She then thought for a bit.

"I do believe angels are good Miss Addams. They are supernatural beings that have many tales about their good deeds and what they have done for humans in the past." She said. I then see her finally starting to pain.

"Yes but only of their good deeds, they must have committed something down right sinful at least once." I said while starting to paint some golden gates. The gate ways to heaven hell. As I believed she was sent from heaven hell.

"What's your favorite flower Miss Addams?" She asked with a smile.

"A black rose." I said with ease. One of the easiest questions that could she could ask from me.

"It represents elegance and mystery." I said while glancing over at her. I see her get out black, grey, and white paint. I then quickly assume she will be painting my flower which made the corner of my lips turn up a bit before I shook that odd pleasant feeling down.

I then quickly return back to the present. Though I felt a strange feeling when I realized she was painting my favorite flower.Even though I already knew that it still made spiders crawl in my stomach. Basking myself in joy despair.

I then hear Enid calling my name which me roll my eyes. I then hear her open the door to the art room to see me which made her grin widely.

"Bella! Can you participate in the Poe Cup this year please?" Enid asked with puppy eyes which didn't prove effective on me.

"No." I stated plainly before going back to painting.

"Please Bella? I know I already asked today but please??" She pouted which made me roll my eyes before sighing.

"Fine." I said, finally relenting to join this silly event.

"Really?" Enid said happily, about to go in for a hug before I glared at her. Signaling to not do that.

"Oh Principal Weems will be so happy that you'll join! I told her how I wanted you to join the team today and she hoped that you would join and you did! I have to go thank her!" Enid smiled excitedly.

"Oh and we'll build the boat this week!" Enid smiled before walking out.

I sighed, already regretting my decision to join the Poe Cup. But I then thought about how Weems would be happy to see me play which made it kind of worth it.

I snap out of my daze, looking back at my painting of an angel. As I saw Larissa Weems as an angel. I mentally conflicted with myself if I should use Weems's face but decided against it since it would seem weird. I decided to put a mask on the angel. The identity hidden.

I then feel something crawl on my shoulder to see Thing. I glare at Thing, mentally saying to get off my shoulder.

Thing decided to stay on my shoulder which irritates me.

"What do you need Thing?" I asked while starting to paint the mask of the angel. Thing quickly starts doing signals which makes me look at him.

"You want me to help Enid build the boat?" I said asking him. Which makes him sign a yes. I sigh, looking back at my painting before starting to clean up.

"I suppose." I said setting Thing down on the floor. Thing then starts to lead the way to where our team was building the boat.

In the distance I see the blonde werewolf and my sister. I get closer and seem them both trying to paint a black cat which makes me sigh. I then decide to paint the other side.

"Leave the painting to me you fools." I said starting to paint. Enid looks surprised that I was helping out since Wednesday probably told her I wouldn't. It seems that Wednesday was surprised to. I just glare at them making them both quickly go back to painting the other side.

"Thing tie my hair up." I ordered which makes him do so obediently. He ties my hair making my raven hair into a ponytail. My hair shining a deep purple in the sun.

After about an hour of painting I am halfway done with my side. I look over to see the two gone. I then feel three sets of eyes looking at me. I turn around to see Enid and Wednesday looking at me paint. But there were only two people behind me. I drag my eyes around my vicinity to see no one us but us three. Weird...

I decide to ignore it and go back to painting my cat for our team.

After about another hour I finish my painting, going back a few steps to marvel at my work. I see Enid come closer, inspecting it before turning to me and smiling.

"Oh Bella it looks amazing! Thank you!" She said happily, about to go in for a hug which makes me step back immediately. Like second nature.

I see Wednesday right next to me, shoulder to shoulder. I see Enid looking at us excitedly before pulling out her brain sucking device.

"We should take a picture and make memories!" She said excitedly before snapping a picture of me and Wednesday making me a bit mad but I suppose it was okay. Just one photo...

After Enid took our photo I demanded to see it. Conflicting with myself if I could delete it or not. I take the phone and look at the picture. Me and Wednesday standing shoulder to shoulder, Enid in the corner of the picture. A failed part on hers of trying to include herself in the selfie. I then examine the photo.

But in the background I see a shadow...A shadow of a large figure. The tree right next to the shadow has three claw marks...

I then look back to see the shadow gone but the marks still there...

Taglist:

@poorwritingandstalecoffee @maxfanartfan @a-goblin-named-cherry

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wc-confessions · 2 months ago

Note

I’ll do a full breakdown of why the news surrounding the Tencent animation disappoints me.

Disclaimer: while you can have criticisms about Tencent as they seem to be a controversial company, don’t use it as an excuse to be sinophobic. If your thoughts ever go to “well of course a Chinese production would suck” or something of that ilk, please stop right there. The main issues are corporate greed and laziness, not China. Got it? Time to carry on.

Firstly, it strikes me as more of a proof of concept than an actual announcement. It’s the most minor problem IMO, so I’ll let them off the hook. They probably wanted to make sure people knew it was being worked on.

Secondly, AI. Warrior Cats is an art-centric community; it’s no wonder fans are pissed. I don’t like AI art, you - a (probable) Warriors fan reading this - likely don’t like AI art, your father doesn’t like AI art, everyone here doesn’t like AI art. Which means I’m going to argue on a more technical side. Looking at the confirmed and possible AI art, I have a question. What do they achieve? They don’t fit with the style of the hand-drawn illustrations, they resemble galaxy cats in space, while that Yellowfang generation is just a bootleg of the reprinted Rising Storm cover. Their existence in the presentation is a waste of time and resources (literally, AI prompts use up absurd amounts of water). I’d rather them show exclusively human art because you can tell they’re going in a direction, even if it’s uninteresting.

Speaking of the presumably human art, oh boy. To start off mildly positive, I’ll say a majority of the illustrations are decent. You get some character designs and scene concepts. They’re clearly playing with art style. I don’t find them particularly ugly, so… good job! I suppose! Now, to address the elephant in the room: anthro cats. For the love of StarClan, I’m begging on my knees, don’t make these cats anthro in the final product. It would fundamentally break the entire series. They call humans “twolegs” for a reason! Go work on the Redwall movie if you want anthro animals.

Finally, my last concern. As of writing, there hasn’t been confirmation of the Tencent animation being a movie, TV show, or other. My opinion on a TV show is “it’s fine.” Warrior Cats is a long series, making it suitable that it gets a longer adaptation. Meanwhile, my hope for a Warriors movie is as big as a single grain of sand.

Warrior Cats is borderline unadaptable when it comes to shorter-form media unless you want to dish out a pretty penny. We can already see this with the Prophecies Begin graphic novel; it’s transparent HarperCollins or whoever is in charge of these things didn’t want to pay for six TPB comics, so they had to hastily mash two books together in one. If the Tencent animation is a movie, I’m afraid some concepts already have signs of this. Multiple pieces have what can be assumed to be Fireheart and Tigerclaw fighting. I’m sorry, but that happens later in the books. Are they going to scramble the narrative worse than the graphic novel adaptation? Are we seriously going to wait 20+ years for an official animation, watch at least one high-profile fan project get canned, only for it to be about as accurate as evil snipers in an action movie? If it’s not a movie, ignore what I’ve said. If it is a movie, sigh.

TL;DR: Should’ve made the Little Dragon Studios series official instead of forcing them to cancel, guys.

#confession #anonymous

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cellythefloshie · 11 months ago

Text

;; Mama Bear Dedicated to myself. Because this has been my passion project.

Summary: With her son Parker set to skate in his first NHL game with the Boston Bruins, Katherine Stacy travels to Boston. When her plans are derailed by her ex-husband, Katherine is forced to spend a night on the town alone where she meets Jeremy who is more than willing to show her a good time. Kinks & Tropes: Age Gap (22 v. 40). Divorcee. Alcohol Consumption. One Night Stand. Oral Sex - Fem Receiving. Mirror Reflection. Protected Sex. - If I missed something, yell at me. ABOUT THE OC’s: Katherine: AKA Katie. Face Claim: Bryce Dallas Howard. 40's. Mother of Parker Waylon-Stacy. Parker: Face Claim: N/A. Boston Bruin's Rookie. Dorthey: AKA Dottie. Face Claim: Kate Hudson. Best friend of Katherine. Word Count: 12k+

A/N: Would you believe me if I said that this fic was 4 months in the making? @hagelpoint-3821 and @hockeyboysimagines -- I do not know how you have put up with me teasing this fic for so long. This fic is one that ignited a fire of excitement in me, and to be able to share that excitement with the two of you is something I will always appreciate. You both know that this fic could have easily become a full length novel - and I did have to cut back on this things to assure I could get this out before the new year. I won't have to but you guys with persistent updates about the progress anymore! Thank you so much for your ongoing support and encouragement. With that said, this fic is not going to appeal to everyone. It is unlike anything I have written before, and is unlike anything I have seen in this community before. So please consider liking and relogging if you enjoy, and if doesn't end up being your cup of tea - thank you for giving it a shot. And please note that I did not do a full edit of this fic. I will be editing any mistakes I see upon rereads. I hope you all enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As a woman traveling alone, there was one thing Katherine Stacy made sure to do: she created a detailed itinerary. Everything from her flights to hotel check-in times and the sights she was planning to see in the great city of Boston were listed in detail on two neatly organized pages. And she made sure to print 3 copies. One for herself, that she carried in her black Kate Spade purse. One for her ex-husband, Ronnie, who was meant to join her on her trip. And the last, for her best friend, Dottie, who remained back home in Toronto - but was the one person she knew she could count on if something did not go according to plan.

Which was why, as Katie called her from her dimly lit hotel room in the middle of the day - when she was supposed to be touring the Museum of Fine Arts - Dottie answered with such urgency you would have thought her home was on fire. Her mass of blonde curls was the first thing you could see when she answered the video call. They fell into her face that was too close to the screen, her words rushed so close together they slurred into one. “What’sgoingon?Whyisitsodark?Thisisnottheartmuseum.”

Katie propped her phone up against her suitcase, the camera obstructed by the bag’s handle as she rushed to get one of the lights, a string of apologies leaving her lips. When she returned to the end of her bed, she fixed the camera just right before her hands dipped into her bag and she continued to unpack her belongings and store them away in the hotel room’s dresser. It was only then, with her hands busy and a heavy breath rocking her shoulders, that Katie told Dottie why she was calling.

“He brought her.”

That was all Dottie needed to hear for her eyes to be sent wide in disbelief, “He. Did. Not.” Dottie was always nothing short of eccentric and supportive, but that support only had grown stronger since Katie’s divorce. And since Ronnie started dating again.

Not even a year into their separation before their divorce was finalized, he had started dating Monica. A beautiful, blonde, twenty-something, esthetician from Etoboike who had weaseled her way into the Waylon family before Katie could even realize what was happening. Which included joining Ronnie on their trip to Boston. Which was supposed to be just the two of them. One where they were coming together as parents to celebrate the success of their son, Parker Waylon-Stacy, who was set to play his first game in the NHL the next evening.

Worst of all, he hadn’t told her she was coming. Monica had been a nasty surprise when she met him at The Westland for lunch. Katie knew the young woman could see the shock all over her face when she spotted her, and while her attendance was an unpleasant surprise, she had tried to be civil. Yet, Katie could only tolerate so much.

So she canceled their dinner reservations at the Citizen Public House & Oyster Bar and did not make her planned trip to the art museum. Instead, she had taken a taxi back to the Courtyard by Marriott where she was staying for her short visit in Boston. What she was going to do now, she didn’t know, but Katie knew she needed to call Dottie.

“I knew you should have just come with me Dot-”

Dottie cut in, her words strained by her frustration. “I would have ripped his testicles off with my bare hands-”

“Dot!”

“What?” Dottie was taken back, her brows furrowed.

“He’s allowed to be dating, we aren’t married.” She and Ronnie hadn’t been together since their son had turned sixteen. That was almost two years ago now, and Katie didn’t miss a single minute of being married to him. She never would.

“But this trip was supposed to be a family trip,” Dottie reminded, her hand coming up to run over her face with a sigh, “for Parker.”

“Well,” Katie chewed at the inside of her cheek, her hand coming up to push her long red hair back out of her face, “he’s marrying her.”

All Katie could hear was a long, low growl of a no, the video call going dark as Dottie either dropped the phone face down onto a surface or accidentally turned her camera off at the shock of the news. When the sight of her returned, her hand was over her mouth, and her eyes were wide.

“You should have seen her ring,” Katie told her, her hands wringing the fabric of one of her blouses in her hands like a wet rag, “it was, wow.”

The band was gold, and the diamond was big. Bigger than what she had on her engagement ring and wedding band combined. It was so big it was almost gaudy and hard to miss. It was eye-catching with every single one of Monica’s movements, and all Katie could think of at the sight of it was: Does Parker know?

It was a question that haunted her as she put down her blouse, pulled her pajamas from the bottom of her bag, and began to undress with little care that Dottie was still on the other end of the call. They had been friends since middle school. There was little Dottie hadn’t seen or didn’t know.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dottie spoke, the shock fading at the sight of Katie stripping out of her jeans, “what are you doing?”

Katie stepped out of her jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor as she held her satin bottoms in her hand, “Turning in?”

“NO, you aren’t going to let that selfish prick ruin this trip for you,” Dottie spoke in a firm tone, her finger pointing right into the lens of her camera.

“What am I supposed to do, Dottie?” Katie sighed, throwing up her hands in defeat and accidentally throwing her pajamas across the room, “I’m just going to order room service and watch some paper view-”

“No, no. You’re going to go out and enjoy yourself.”

A sigh rocked through Katie’s entire body, her hand falling into her hands as she fought back a frustrated sob. She’s a divorced mother in a city she doesn’t know. Her son was off with his teammates doing god knows what on a team-building outing. Her ex-husband was off celebrating his engagement. And she was alone.

Hot tears pricked at green eyes in the shadow of her hands, but Katie didn’t let them fall. Deep, heavy breaths from years of hiding her frustrations with her husband kept them at bay, but Dottie noticed. She always noticed.

Which was why her voice had softened when she spoke again, “Show me what’s in your suitcase?”

“My suitcase?” Katie croaked out, her hands coming down to rest against the pale freckles skin of her thighs.

“Yes, your suitcase.”

Stepping forward, Katie took her phone in her hold and flipped her camera around for Dottie to see. The suitcase was mostly empty now, save for the jacket she had packed at the bottom. The rest of her clothes she had tucked away in the dresser drawers. She had packed just enough clothes to last the three-day trip. Her main outfit was a pair of jeans, boots, and a t-shirt she planned to wear under a jersey to the hockey game the following night. Everything else was meant to be worn during sightseeing, or on the flight home. And every bit of it was practical.

“No, no, love. Why do you do this to yourself?” Dottie sighed, her shoulder slouching forward. Dottie, herself, was a bit of a fashionista. She always wore the latest trends and was always seen in the brightest colors. Because, well, Dottie liked to be seen. “Where is the sext shit we bought last time we went out?”

“Back home?” Katie spoke in more of a question, her brow raising as if where it was wasn’t already obvious. “I wasn’t coming out here intending to seduce my ex-husband, Dot.”

“You’re in Boston, Katie! A city full of eligible bachelors you can forget about the moment you fly home.”

“Dot-”

“When was the last time you got laid, Katie?”

Her stomach sunk, her mouth going dry at the question. Dottie already knew the answer to that question, but she was trying to use it to motivate her now, even if Katie hated it when she did that.

“You would have heard about it if it happened.”

“You’ve been divorced for over a year, Katie - separated for two. It’s time to ditch the vibrator.”

Katie let out a long, frustrated huff, fighting the urge to toss her phone onto the pillow. She knew exactly where this was going. “I’m not using that stupid dating app-”

Tinder. Bumble. Plenty of Fish. Hinge. If it was a dating app, she was on it, and failing miserably at it. Dottie’s daughter, Megan, had set her up with the accounts. Helped her pick every flattering picture and even wrote her biography to cater to the current dating scene. And it had only led her to two types of people, men just like her husband who were divorced and looking for their next way to mother them, or were young men - too young for her to comfortably consider - with mommy issues. And both had gifted her far too many unsolicited pictures of their cocks.

Just the thought of opening the app made her want to gag.

“Then don’t,” Dottie spoke, her tone assuring and not forceful. “Just do this one thing for yourself. Go buy a nice dress and a pair of underwear that haven’t seen postpartum. Something sexy. Something to make you feel confident, and go out to dinner. Take yourself out. Hell, even if it’s just the hotel bar. Get a drink and try to have a little fun. For me.”

Dottie dipped her chin down and pouted her lips. Growing up, it was always how Dottie had gotten her way, and sometimes it still worked. Just like it had then.

“Fine.”

“Good, now, I gotta go,” she spoke, and her screen was suddenly a rush of color as she was on the move, “The twins have a game tonight.”

Dottie was a mother of three. Megan, 18, the same as Parker, was off at university, but the twins were only 12. And had a very extensive hockey schedule to maintain, which kept Dottie’s schedule busy and her hands full.

“Alright, alright, I won’t keep you,” Katie waved her hand at the phone casually, “Tell Brandon and Brayden Auntie Katie is cheering for them-”

“Don’t think this gets you off the hook,” Dottie added quickly, “I want a selfie of you looking sexy at the bar. Love you. Kisses!”

Shopping alone was something Katie loathed. Nothing ever fit her proportions right, especially after the rollercoaster that was going from a size 2 to pregnant to struggling with her weight postpartum, to a grueling weight loss journey that brought her to a weight that she could be both healthy and happy with. But Katie wasn’t skin and bones. She was soft and curvy with an ass that was maybe a little bigger than she would like, and breasts that didn’t match the fashion industries’ standards of what her body was supposed to look like. It was that fact that left her rotating out of each boutique's change room, trying on one dress and then the next before she found one dress that fit her body just enough for her to confidently make the purchase.

It was a little black dress that stopped just below the knee. It was sleeveless, and the deep vee neckline showed off her cleavage with a little help from some strategically placed fashion tape. The dress hugged her curves without restricting her stride and left her feeling sexy as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and took her time to do her hair and makeup for her night on the town.

Aka. Her night at the hotel bar.

It was only a short walk from the elevator to the bar's entrance. The dark bar filled with the warm amber glow of the lights that hung above each table, and along the high traffic points of the bar. Normally, she wouldn’t consider going to a place like this. Katie liked to be able to see what she was eating and drinking. But tonight she was desperate. Desperate and alone with no thought in her mind that the latter would change. Besides, she just needed to be there long enough to take a few pictures and leave without an empty stomach. With those two facts in mind, Katie walked into the bar with the confidence only a mother could have and seated herself down the bar.

It’s the most lit area of the establishment, her seat was right beside one of the beautiful bronze light fixtures. It set her face aglow, her bright red lipstick and dark mascara framed eyes illuminated so fully she feared she might look like a clown, but she tried not to focus on the insecurities of dining out alone. Instead, Katie pulled out her phone and texted a quick picture of herself to Dottie. She looked a little more anxious than sexy, but it proved she was out. Then, she took a picture of the light fixture before placing her phone screen down on the bar top and welcomed a menu as it was placed in front of her.

The barkeep was nice, and if she was younger she might have mistaken his kindness for flirtation. But Katie knew better. It was his job to be friendly. Good service meant better tips, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t need the confidence boost. It, at the very least, left her smiling as she looked over her menu and ordered a drink to start: a Negroni Sbagliato.

It would be the first of two during her meal. The first left her more comfortable being out in Boston alone. The second gave her the confidence to lift her phone from the bartop. Her fingers hovered over the darkened screen before she awakened its brightness with the single click of the home button. Her eyes had to squint at the harshness of its light, her eyes having adjusted to the bar’s moody atmosphere before she could be greeted with the series of notifications from Dottie.

She was at her son’s hockey game, but she had taken the time to respond to the photo with a series of flame emojis. Quick, but effective support that had Katie’s finger leaning towards the Tinder app that she had tucked on her last page of applications.

The screen came to life with an even harsher light, leaving Katie to flinch in her seat as she tried to hide her screen beneath her arm. At her age, there was nothing more embarrassing, in her mind, than being on a dating app. She looked down at the first profile carefully as she brought her phone down to her lap, her thumb swiping left on the first eligible bachelor who didn’t look all that eligible when she was sure the woman in the picture was his wife, and not his sister or a friend. Then the second, third, and fourth men in her radius were all at the bottom of her age range and looked all too young.

In her position, Katie knew she shouldn’t be so picky. She was in Boston for only a few days. Alone for one night. If anyone wanted to meet her for a drink, or at the very least provided a pleasant series of text messages before ghosting her when she found out she was a mother, she would be able to label the night as a success.

With each passing profile, Katie fell further into defeat and accepted that she would be enjoying her night alone. And she accepted that as she sipped at what was her second drink, only for it to gently choke at her throat at a soft, unfamiliar voice spoken at her side.

“I’d swipe right on you.”

The words sent a blossom of heat through Katie from her heart to her cheeks and the tips of her toes. Unsolicited, they should have flooded her with dread. But they were flirtatious and left her giddy before she could even offer the man more than a glance. It had been a long time since someone hit on her at a bar, and it left her sitting taller in her seat. Confident.

That was until she looked right, and to the man who had greeted her with his flirtatious words. Her stomach was left unsettled. He wasn’t ugly. Far from it with his tall, lean stature, chestnut brown hair, and eyes a warm brown hue that could so easily tempt her into comfort if she let them. But he was young. Younger than anything in her age range on any of the dating apps on her phone. He looked older than her son, but she may have mistaken them for the same age if it wasn’t for the beginnings of a beard along the angles of his jawline.

As quickly as her stomach fluttered with butterflies, she was flooded with disappointment. She wouldn’t even entertain a man as young as he was. But Katie was too polite.

“That’s very flattering,” there was a hint of a smile in her voice as she looked down at the bartop to hide the blush that still threatened to creep up on her cheeks. “But I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to be your mother.”

The statement seemed to amuse him, his smile growing as he stepped up to sit on the barstool next to her. He, whoever he was, was getting too comfortable. It left Katie shifting in her seat, suddenly all too aware of how her heels hooked on her stool and how her thighs pressed together uncomfortably as her ass was cradled by her seat.

“I don’t believe it,” he wore a boyish grin as he turned his body just enough to give her all of his attention, “You here, looking like that…”

Katie could feel his eyes drag up and down the length of his body, admiring her figure and how it looked in her little black dress.

“Being anyone’s mother would be a shock to me,” he finished his train of thought, his words still on the verge of flirtation.

Katie wanted to accept it. To feel flattered by his interest however great or mild it may be. But there was an anxiety that bubbled deep in her stomach. One that left her paranoid that this could be a joke. Shifting in her seat, Katie did a glance around the bar. Looking from table to table she looked for anyone that the man beside her could be associated with. But the bar was quiet. There was a table with what looked like a bridal party that would be pregaming before hitting the town. Then, there was a table of old-timers who may have been regulars or retirees visiting the city. Neither were crowds he would be a part of. That was unless he was homosexual. But, if he were, he wouldn’t be seated beside her at the bar, hitting on her.

“You’re too kind,” she spoke slowly, trying to be polite.

“What can I say, my mama raised me right,” he smiled a boyish grin, “which is why I’d like to buy you a drink.”

Katie’s heart fluttered in her chest at the offer, her head cocking to the side as she spoke; “You don’t have to.”

“I insist.”

Katie had to give him one thing, he was confident. She could see it in how his dark eyes didn’t tear away from her, and how his shoulders remained strong instead of slouching with each of her flattered but deflective responses. He could have taken her brief remarks as being disinterested - which in a way she was disinterested if only because of his apparent age - yet, he persisted.

Reaching up with his hand, the mystery Bostonian flagged down the bartender and met him with a smile. He ordered himself a drink, before nodding towards Katie and requesting another for her as well. Then, he offered him his credit card. Katie’s eyes lingered on the piece of plastic as it was passed from one man to the other. It was just a typical credit card. Nothing fancy that would indicate that he was a man with exceptionally deep pockets, and her stomach filled with dread as she realized that she had probably let some poor college student pay for her drink.

It left her mouth tasting sour as her third drink of the evening was placed in front of her. So sour, that she almost rejected it. But it was already paid for, so she accepted it and decided that if he ordered a second for himself, she would pay for it.

“Thanks,” she spoke across the short distance between them, her body turning to be a little more open to a conversation.

Talking to him was the least that she could do.

“What brings you to Boston…” he started, his words trailing off. He wasn’t done with his question, yet, he was asking her for something already.

Blankly, Katie stared at him, unsure of what exactly he was fishing for until it hit her. He wanted to know her name. She could feel her face go red with the realization, and redder when she hesitated when she almost said her full name, Katherine.

Katherine felt old. Stale. Everything she was trying to avoid being, so she gave him her nickname instead, “Katie.”

“What brings you to Boston, Katie?”

“Visiting family,” she kept her answer brief without the messy details. And without the mention of having a son that she was sure was only a few years younger than him. “What about you…”

“Jeremy,” he was quicker to answer, his hand reaching out halfway. She smiled at the gesture, reaching out and meeting his hand with hers in a simple handshake before she withdrew to wrap her fist around her glass.

“What brings you to Boston, Jeremy?”

“Nothing too exciting, just work.”

Just work. Such a simple answer. Straightforward. No details. And she could have asked for more, but he met her level of secrecy - of mystery - all the while making his intentions known. He didn’t need to disclose his life to her, or her to him, because he couldn’t care less if he was just looking for a woman to take back to his room. But before she could confirm her theory to be true, he pressed her for more.

“If you’re here to visit with family, why are you alone?”

Katie wasn’t sure what she heard in Jeremy’s voice when he asked that question. If it was merely curiosity or pity, she hadn’t known him long enough to know. But it left her smile wavering as she answered him, “Busy schedules,” she shrugged her shoulders to give off a feeling of carelessness even though it was still bothering her, “I’ll see them all in the morning.”

“How early?”

If she had been taking a sip of her drink, Katie would have choked again. “You aren’t very discreet.”

“I can’t afford to be. A beautiful woman like yourself, you could fly off tomorrow and I’d never see you again. At least I can know I took my shot.”

Katie cocked her hair to the side, her bright auburn hair cascading down between her shoulders as her eyes looked at Jeremy in disbelief. He was the very definition of a golden retriever. Happy, waiting with the greatest anticipation that if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. And he was waiting for her to throw her a bone.

Biting her lip, Katie placed her drink down on the bartop and her gaze followed after. She shouldn’t have been considering it. Yet there she was, her hands came to rest around her phone and gripped it tight as one thought was clear in her mind. She needed to call Dottie.

“Can you excuse me for just a moment?” she asked slowly.

Jeremy answered with a curt nod, his smile unwavering as he watched her with his wide brown eyes.

With his permission, Katie couldn’t get out of her chair fast enough. She slid from the stool, and her heels slipping on the hardwood. It left her unsteady for a moment, her hand reaching out to catch herself on the bar, but before she could reach the polished wood a pair of large, warm hands had wrapped around her waist.

The heat of his touch blossomed through Katie’s belly, sending her breath to hitch in the depths of her throat. She wanted nothing more but to hide her surely reddened face in her hands with embarrassment. She wanted to curse herself for her clumsiness, but she was frozen in his hold as he breathed out a whisper she could barely hear but could feel against her cheek; “Don’t worry. I got you.”

His touch.

His words.

It was almost enough to make her shudder. But with one shallow, forced breath Katie found her composure and gave his arm a careful squeeze and a thank you that he might not have been able to hear. Then, she was drying back, her steps quick as she moved for the privacy of the woman’s washroom. It was there she was able to pull out her phone and call Dottie. But Jeremy’s touch was not forgotten, it’s warmth remained deep in her belly, lingering.

“Where’s the fire?” There was an alertness in Dottie’s voice, nothing but the peaks of her face visible on the screen as she lay in the dark. Katie could only see more of her tired features as Dottie squinted and brought the phone closer to her face. “Wait,” her tone was one of disbelief, “are you still out?”

“Yeah,” Katie’s voice was uneven as she reached a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “and I think I have a problem.”

“If it’s your card, I told you so. I knew you should have called the bank before you went-”

Shaking her head, Katie cut her off, “No, no, there’s a guy?”

Dottie perked up, any sign of sleepiness void from her face in an instant. “A guy? What are you calling me for? Take him to bed!”

Her excitement was contagious, not even the complaints from Dottie’s tired husband who lay beside her in bed could spoil the mood. Katie wanted to be able to revert back to her younger self. To squeal with excitement over a man. A man who thought she was sexy - who wanted to sleep with her with no strings attached. But it wasn’t that simple.

“It’s just that,” Katie chewed her lip, a heavy sigh rocking her shoulders, “he’s young.”

“How young is young?” Dottie asked slowly, and cautiously as they waded into dangerous territories together.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “they didn’t card him. Maybe, twenty-five. No more than thirty.”

“Shit,” Dottie cursed, the single word drawn out and earning another grunt of disapproval from her husband, “he cute?”

“Very.”

“Well, I mean… Thirty isn’t too bad.”

“That’s IF he’s thirty, Dot,” she emphasized, her eyes wide as she dropped her voice lower at the sound of someone entering the washroom.

“What’s the worst-case scenario?” Dottie asked.

Katie thought for a moment, her teeth chewing her lip as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. As a woman, there were many horrible scenarios a woman could end up in when dating. Ending up dead was the worst of the worst, but she didn’t take it to that extreme. “Worst case? He’s a twenty-one-year-old fuckboy like the ones we warned Megan about before she went off to college. And I end up with the clap.”

Dottie’s laugh was lost on the flush of the toilet in the stall next to Katie, and the rush of the sink as the stranger in the bathroom washed their hands. It was a mess of noise, but Katie could still make out Dottie’s next question, “Best case?”

Katie hesitated as she threw her head back to rest against the stall. She was embarrassed by the answer.

Dottie answered for her, “Best case you get laid for the first time in what is it? Two years?”

Hearing it outloud sent her stomach sinking? Had it really been that long?

Katie cursed under her breath, her head hanging low. When had she let her life get so pathetic? For years, her life had one priority, raising her son. And she had done a good job, he was successful, about to play in his first NHL game after starting his season with the Bruins’ AHL affiliate. But she never really moved on from her divorce, and from being a mom. Her ex-husband was engaged, and ready to start a new family. But she hadn’t even fucked someone anyone since her divorce. Even then, she and her husband hadn’t even shared a bed before their divorce. She couldn’t even recall the last time they slept together, even if she wanted to.

From her throat erupted a long, unsatisfied groan. Her mind quickly fell on a decision that she may come to regret.

“Dot,” she sighed, “is it fucked up if I take him back to my room?”

Silence hung between the two of them for a moment. Dottie processed the decision, and Katie waited anxiously for her friend to tell her if she was making the wrong decision.

“Teach the kid a thing or two,” Dottie spoke, the playful nature of her words lifting a weight of insecurity from her shoulders.

“Dottie, thank you,” she spoke quickly, one hand going to the lock on the door while the other ended the call.

With the decision made, with a little help from her friend, all Katie could do now was hope that Jeremy had waited for her at the bar. If he hadn’t she couldn’t blame him for leaving. Maybe she was older than she looked from a distance. Or he had just come to the bar to kill time before a night out in Boston, and she was merely the entertainment. She couldn’t let herself get too hung up on him if he were gone, but thankfully, she didn’t have too. Jeremy remained at the bar. Standing instead of propped up on his stool, his hand slipping something into his back pocket on her approach.

And Katie, she didn’t waste any time being coy. “I don’t have reservations until 11.”

The smile that was beginning to feel like a welcome constant on Jeremy’s features grew at her words. Katie wasn’t sure if it was the question he was expecting, but it was clear that it was the one that he was hoping for and it flooded her stomach with butterflies.

She was going to do it.

She was going to take this attractive young man back to her room.

“Let me just pay my tab,” Katie told him, her hands already on her purse to dig out her credit card. She merely pressed her jump against the thin, cold plastic card when the bartender threw his towel over his shoulder and raised his hand to reject her payment. He didn’t want it. Katie’s brow furrowed, then it hit her. It had already been paid for.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she was quick to quip. Katie knew she should have been thanking him, but she couldn’t help but feel a little insulted. She was a grown woman. Successful in her own right. She was more than capable of paying for her own meal.

“It’s nothing, really,” Jeremy shrugged it off, his arm sliding behind her to rest on her back so effortlessly it was as if they had come to the bar together.

“Let me pay you back,” Katie insisted, earning the gentle pressure of his hand against the small of her back as he began to lead her out to the lobby. She almost scoffed. As if he knew where her room was - because she wasn’t going back to his. If this was going to happen, it needed to happen on her terms. That also meant, shoving her hand into her wallet and shoving a fist full of American money in his direction.

Jeremy continued to refuse, his one hand reaching out to guide her hand back towards her open wallet. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m more than capable of paying for my own dinner-” She voiced, ready to fight him on it further, but his answer stopped her in place.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

Katie stood in the middle of the hotel lobby, her head slightly cocked to the side as she slid out of Jeremy’s reach. He only took a few strides before looking back at her with such warmth in her eyes she thought she might melt. Jeremy was sweet. Too sweet. Acting in every way he had wanted her husband to when they were married, and he was just a young man. It was a cruel thing in a way. For the universe to taunt her with him, but she would let herself enjoy him, if only for the night.

“Come on, I’m up on the fourth floor,” as she spoke, Katie’s words softened. She wouldn’t be fighting him about her bill again. If he wanted to be a gentleman, she was going to let him.

They boarded the elevator together, Katie drawing her key card and moving to the right, and Jeremy boarding and leaning against the far left wall. Scanning her card, the elevator doors shut, the two of them alone together for the first time as the elevator began its slow ascent.

The movement made it feel as if her heart was sinking to the depths of her stomach, her anxiety building, as she leaned back against the right side of the elevator directly across from Jeremy. He was smiling still, watching her, admiring her. And she couldn’t help but smile too. It was contagious.

Her smile had him smiling wider.

Then, he pushed off the wall of the elevator and closed the short distance between them. He moved so quickly her anxieties didn’t have enough time to worsen, nor did they ease. Her heart raced in the depth of her chest as his hands found her waist, drawing her in from the cold support of the elevator wall and into the strength of his body. He was lean, maybe even a little too lean for her liking, but she could feel how strong he was as her body was pulled flush with his. Katie could feel it first in his grasp, as Jeremy’s fingertips pressed into the curves of her waist. Then again, as her hands braced against his chest, her own careful touch sliding up - feeling his pectorals flex in the process - and around before linking behind his neck. Her tough welcomed Jeremy in, and with him came his kiss.

Katie had to press up onto her toes to meet it, even in her heels. Teetering on the toes of her heels as Jeremy leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to her lips. She had expected it to be a desperate kiss. One that was sloppy, and would leave her face wet and her eyes rolling, but she was wrong. Jeremy kissed her slowly, both hands on her hips for one moment, the next one had risen to stroke over the soft skin of her cheek. His thumb dragged over the smooth flesh, and down to catch on her chin, drawing her mouth open. Katie had to choke back a moan at the feeling of his tongue slipping in between parted lips. The warm stroke of his tongue infiltrated her mouth, the depth of the kiss leaving her legs weak as the elevator door chimed.

They had reached her floor.

red

She licked her lips as she drew back, her hands falling to her clutch to fumble with its contents for her room key. If she was fumbling with her purse, she wouldn’t have to look up and risk anyone else seeing the red lipstick that quickly became a mess on her face. She could feel how it was smudged off her lips, and she was sure that if she looked to Jeremy who now followed behind her like a shadow, that it would be smeared over his lips as well.

But she didn’t look up. Not until she got to the door of her room and she took a deep breath. Once she crossed the threshold, there would be no going back. The thought left her on the verge of vomiting as she heard the lock click, and her hand reached for the door handle. She was nervous, more than that. Anxious. She was anxious. But there was an excitement that left her shivering as she led Jeremy into her hotel room.

If he was going to kiss her like that, she couldn’t wait to see what else he intended to do with her. But first-

“Do you want another drink?” Katie asked him quickly as she came to stand in front of the small console table in the entryway. She placed her clutch there, and her key and had intended to peel away from it to move to the small bar in her room, but she found herself trapped between it and Jeremy’s body as the door shut behind her.

Hands splaying out over the table, Katie braced herself there as Jeremy’s hands returned to her body. One snake around her waist, easing her to lean back into him while the other carefully pushed her loose auburn curls away from the pale skin from her neck. Her eyes went wide, fixated on the horrible piece of art that hung on the wall as his hot breath encroached on her neck. It washed over her in heated waves. The hot moisture was almost enough to make her sweat, but instead Jeremy left her melting. His kiss was slow against her neck. Peppering at first before his lips were dragging down her skin, leaving hot trails down to her collarbone and back up again.

Her heart fluttered. Then it pounded. So loudly, all Katie could hear was her heartbeat in her ears. It left her eyes fluttering shut, her mind focused on nothing but the kiss of his lips and the touch of his hands on her body. He caressed her curves, gripped at her flesh and kissed every bit of exposed skin on her neck, throat and shoulders. And it all left her melting, her mind fuzzy, and any bit of inhibition was ready to leave her and let him do as he pleased with her body. That was until she left his hand encroached on the hem of her dress. The warm touch of his hand on the sensitive skin of her thigh sent her head into a panic.

This was the beginning of foreplay.

Katie should have expected it, she should have been looking forward to it. But it left her nerves raw. In all the years she had been married to Ronnie, foreplay had been forgotten. Sex was an obligation and it was quick. A mere tool used to please her husband while she was left to finish herself off in the shower or beside him after he had fallen asleep in bed. Back then, it didn’t matter if she was dressed in lingerie or pajamas. If she had a fresh shave, or hadn’t shaved for weeks. Ronnie didn’t care - or atleast, he always said he didn’t. But now, as a stranger’s hands were so eager to explore every inch of her body, it left her self conscious.

“I’ve got whiskey at the bar,” Katie breathed out quickly, her knees weak as she stepped away from him and quickly moved for the bar.

She was met by Jeremy’s low chuckle,“I’m not that bad looking, am I?”

“No - no, it’s not that - I’m sorry,” Katie apologized, her hand grasping at one of the little bottles of rum from the bar, “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. I’m just a little nervous.”

“How long’s it been?” His words were casual, his confidence unwavering even as she found her so close to plummeting.

“Since when?” She asked slowly, seeking clarification if only to bide herself more time. Katie didn’t want to have to tell him the truth, but she wasn’t a liar.

“Since you’ve had casual sex?”

“You really don’t want to know,” she countered.

Omission was not the same as lying.

Looking up from the bar top, and the bottle of whiskey in her hand that she had yet to uncork her eyes rose to look at Jeremy who had found his way to the end of her bed. He had seated himself down, his shoes kicked off his feet, and he leaned back on his elbows, lounging casually in the bed that had yet to be slept in.

While he laid back, so casually, that he could have let his head lul back and let himself stare at the ceiling. But even as he relaxed there, waiting for her nerves to be put at ease by a little liquid courage, his soft brown eyes were fixated on her. Her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, a quivering breath coursing through her body as she held his stare. It was soft, alluring in a way that left her ready to answer anything he may ask of her and it left her curing under her breath. It was a dangerous thing, just how easy to trust he was.

Pouring her drink, straight whiskey into her glass, she sipped the room temperature alcohol back and let it burn. Then, under the blaze of it consuming her, Katie answered, “Twenty years.”

“Bullshit.”

Katie’s lips pressed together in a small smile, the shock on his ace coaxing an innocent shrug from her shoulders.

“You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Now that is bullshit,” she pointed at him, her lips spreading into a wider grin now.

“You look incredible. That dress, your body. What can I say? You caught my attention. But I bet that dress looks even better on the floor.”

Katie swallowed back the lump that quickly formed in her throat as his words. She was very self conscious about her body. It changed drastically over the years. Once she was skinny, flat and narrow in no way the healthiest version of herself. But it was also the one that had carried her child, and left her with curves she didn’t want and scars only her ex-husband had seen. And now she was going to share it with Jeremy, a man who she was sure still had so much to learn about a woman’s body. It was a terrifying thought. One that hung in the back of her mind as she abandoned her drink on the bar and stepped out of her heels.

Barefoot, she took careful strides towards the bed, her demeanor caught somewhere between confident and terrified, but it caught his attention all the same. Katie knew she had caught his eye when his smile tested the limits of how far it could spread over his cheeks as Jeremy sat up from where he leaned. He moved slowly to the edge of the bed, his legs spreading just enough for Katie to stand between them.

With a careful, final step, Katie stood between his legs and looked down at him. Her heart pounded deep in her chest, so hard and so rapidly she thought her ribs were about to rattle. And in her chest, she could feel her very last inhale struggling to creep its way back up her throat in the calm of an exhale. It burned in her lungs, the nerves of undressing in front of him smothering her. That was, until she felt the warms of Jeremy’s hands find her body, and in an instant she calmed.

She exhaled slowly through slightly parted lips as her eyes fell shut. In the darkness it brought, Katie fixated on the warmth of Jeremy’s touch. It dragged over her curves, tracing each rise and fall with his fingers and palms before each of his hands settled on her broad hips. There, he gripped her gently and guided her steps in a small circle so she stood with her back to him.

Katie raised up her arms slowly, her hands dragging up her own neck and tangled into her auburn strands as she drew them away from the zipper of her dress. Her breath hitched again, but only for a moment, in the back of her throat as she felt his fingers pinch at the zipper and drag it down. He inched it down slowly, and Katie could feel the black fabric begin to fall away from her skin. And as the warm fabric fell away, the cold air of the room kissed her skin. It sent a shiver coursing up her spine, her entire body shuttering as the fabric hit the ground, leaving her in nothing but a pair of black lace pair of panties.

They were brand new. The tag was in the trash bin in the bathroom. And Katie would be forever thankful that she had bought them when she bought the dress instead of wearing something she had packed. If she had been wearing anything else, she may have recoiled from his touch, but instead, as she turned in place to face him, Katie radiated confidence.

He could see almost all of her, from her stretch marks to the freckles on her skin. Yet, Jeremy’s touch didn’t recoil, his hands continued to explore the expanse of her body and his dark eyes didn’t look away. Instead, they traced her every curve on the way back up to her face that was left blank from the nerves that came from waiting for his reaction. Katie was sure that Jeremy hadn’t seen a body like hers before. So old, so flawed, so-

Her thoughts were broken by Jeremy’s slow, soft spoken words. “Yeah, looks much better on the floor,” Jeremy punctuated his words with the slow swipe of his tongue over his lip as his warm gaze dragged up and down the length of her body. His complement dissolved any feeling of nervousness, of insecurity, that had consumed Katie. Her joints had been weak, and her heart racing, but he brought her calm.

In that calm, Katie found her confidence. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip, her mind racing as she tried to determine what exactly her first move would be – and then she took it.

One step, and then another, Katie brought her legs up to kneel on the bed, the mattress shifting beneath her weight as she straddled Jeremy’s lap. The denim on his dark jeans was rough against the inside of her thighs as his hands helped guide her down into his lap. Jeremy’s arms constricted around her, drawing her nearly naked body flush to his. Katie could feel his hot breath against her cheek, her inhale drawing in the sweet scent of alcohol before she stole a kiss from his lips.

Katie wasted no time with sweetness or caution. Instead she kissed him with such an insatiable hunger, she knew tasting him on her tongue wouldn’t be enough. But it was a start. Each deep kiss and stroke of her tongue against his left his stubble to drag over the sensitive skin of her jaw and cheeks. It was rough, scratching against her skin and contrasting the tender movements of his hands as his warm touch moved up over the curves of her body. Jeremy’s touch settled on the broad curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the soft and supple flesh. And it was the only encouragement she needed to coax the subtle roll of her hips over the roughness of her jeans.

Quickly, Katie became intoxicated by his kiss, by his touch and the very feeling of him between her legs. It began with the friction of his fly against the crotch of her panties, the subtle friction sparking the beginnings of her arousal. And then she felt him. His cock stiffened in the confines of his jeans, growing and becoming a thick outline that pressed up into the thick denim that divided them. Katie dragged her core up and down his clothed length, a shudder taking her body as a soft moan was coaxed from her lips. And it left Jeremy smiling as he pulled back just enough to tug off his t-shirt.

Her eyes looked him up and down in a quick glance. Jeremy was fit. With his chest muscles flexing, the outline of his abs clear and his biceps building as he tossed his t-shirt aside, Katie almost tucked her tail and ran. He wasn’t an Adonis of a man, but he was intimidating in every way. Especially, while she was no idyllic beauty herself.

“That’s just,” she exhaled a long, desperate breath, “not even fair.”

Jeremy’s grin grew wider, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, as he picked her up and flipped her to lay back against the comfort of the bed. The action left her breathless, her hands scrambling against the bed to ease herself upright until she felt Jeremy’s hand flat against her stomach to keep her in place as she lay just beneath the comfort of the hotel room pillows. She lay there panting for a moment, her hair a mess against the bed and her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she felt the bed shift, and Jeremy settle between her legs.

“Just take a second, relax,” Jeremy’s hot words washed over the inside of her thighs, and her core clenched.

The room around her seemed to spin as she lay there, her lips parted in disbelief as she felt his fingers hook on the black lace of her panties and dragged them down the length of her legs. She could feel the warm, wet puddle of her arousal as it dragged down against her inner thigh, and her stomach knotted as she felt the warmth of his breath encroach on her needy core. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had been between her legs - if one had been at all, because she knew her husband never had been. But Jeremy didn’t hesitate.

He lay on the bed on his stomach between her legs, his one hand sliding down from her hip, over the red curls of hair that trailed down over her pelvis and down to the slick folds between her thighs. He stroked her slowly, with two fingers barely brushing her slit before parting her with his fingers and tracing the sweet arousal at her core. Jeremy teashed her there, her heart racing as she tried so desperately to be calm. Her heart pounded, and her teeth care down on her lower lip in a firm bite, the pain a little distraction from the insecurities that threatened to consume her. She in no way felt prepared for this of all things. It was supposed to be a quick fuck, but then she felt him. The warmth of his tongue stroked over the entrance of her cunt and she moaned.

It ripped up her throat before she could stop it, the heat and wetness of his long tongue a stark contrast to the colder temperature of the hotel room. And the sound only seemed to fuel him. He delved into her as if he was dehydrated and she was all he had to drink. His tongue parted her folds, and delved into her core leaving her cunt dripping with his saliva. His hands wound around her waist, one moving over the thick red curls of her hair as he blindingly fumbled for her clit as his face was buried between her thighs.

Reaching down, her hand took hold of his carefully. Her fingers slid along his, gripping them carefully as she guided him to just the right spot. But once she guided him there, Katie’s touch didn’t leave him. Her hand remained resting over his. It kept his pressure even, and his motion just right as he rubbed her in slow circles. The action wound her up, the pleasure building like a wind up toy. Each stroke of his tongue, and every rotation of his fingers left her burning pleasure to coil in her stomach and soon she was seeing stars. She was so close to the brink of her pleasure, that her toes were curling against the sheets and her thighs threatened to close in on his ears. But that was where he left her, on the verge of her climax, as he trailed sloppy kisses down the inside of her thighs before he could push up and pull as his belt.

Pushing up onto her elbows, she watched as she pulled his belt free, and worked his jeans and his boxer briefs down his legs together. It was hard not to stare, to admire the muscles of his body as she fished through his pocket or his wallet, and then the condom that was tucked in its folds.

The wrapper became discarded on the bed beside her, and he worked the latex onto his cock, ready to take his place between her legs again, but she didn’t let him. Katie felt too guilty, selfish even, for having his face buried between her legs, and it had her pushing up from her place with a sudden surge of confidence. Her hands found the strength of Jeremy’s chest, a playful shove knocking him back to lay against the bed so she could climb into his lap once more. She took in a steady breath, her nose wrinkling for a moment as it crossed her mind that she may be too old for what she had in mind, but it didn’t stop her.

With a single hand, Katie reached down between their bodies and took hold of his cock in her hand. She stoke it slowly, once and then again before she brought it to the entrance of her core. The mere pressure of the tip of her cock threatened to send her legs trembling before she could take him. If it were anyone else, Katie might have given up and let him take her plainly on her back knowing full well it would get the job done for her. But Katie persevered. She eased herself down onto him slowly, her eager core accommodating him so effortlessly it left her moaning. And once she felt his warmth against her ass, and had consumed him into the depths of her core, Katie began to ride him.

Her hands braced herself against the slender strength of her chest as her hips rolled. She moved in a slow and steady rhythm, the friction sending pleasure boiling through her entire body. Katie became lost in the feeling of hip hips rising to meet her body in a gentle pound. It was all she could fixate on, even as her legs began to tremble and the muscles in her legs began to burn. She could hear each subtle impact, the meeting of skin, and it became a symphony of sounds that mixed with her desperate breath and the soft sounds that she coaxed from Jeremy’s lips. He reeled on the bed beneath her, his warm eyes admiring her body as his hands gripped her hips and fingers sunk into the flesh of her ass. He encouraged her every move, guiding her up and down his cock, but she couldn’t hide how her legs trembled.

Jeremy grinned wide, his head leaning back against the pillow as he let out a trembling breath of words, “Look so pretty taking my cock, you wanna see?”

Katie found herself at a loss for words as she slid down the length of his cock and froze with him deep inside her. Her breaths quaked under each uneven breath, and her mind was left fuzzy by the mere feeling of being so full of him. And all she could do was nod.

Carefully, Jeremy eased her from his cock, and guided her to rest on all fours on the bed. In front of her at the end of the bed was the dresser, her empty bag still resting on top of it, but it wasn’t enough to block the view of the mirror that hung on the wall above it. She could see her reflection there, her auburn hair left mused and her face was almost just as red as it was flushed and smeared with her red lipstick. She could see her body too. Her skin was fair and freckled and so exposed. Her breast hung in two small swells, and from behind her shoulders she could see the swell of her hips and Jeremy positioning himself behind her. His eyes were fixated on her ass, as were his hands that kneaded at the soft flesh.

Katie could see his lips move in a silent curse that was lost on her as he pulled he positioned her just right. And when he had her just where he wanted her, the careful glide of the tip of his cock found her entrance again, and her thrust deep inside. The first thrust left her mewling, and the second left her fingers to grip at the bedding below. She met every single one of Jeremy’s thrusts, the mass of her ass quaking from each impact. But she didn’t watch herself, Katie’s eyes did not leave Jeremy. She watched as his face softened, and his muscles flexed. His eyes even closed from the time as he became lost in the feeling – but when they opened his stare met his gaze in the mirror.

Jeremy tutted her gently, a single hand leaving the soft flesh of her hip to travel up the length of her back. As he moved, she could feel more and more of his body against her. Then, his hand found her throat. He held it carefully, without pressure, and guided her up to kneel. There she could feel his entire body against hers, all the while his cock was buried deep in her core. His thumb rested along her chin, and his forefinger stretched out along her jaw, and Jeremey held her gaze there, on her own feeble expression as he fucked her until her throat was raw, and her core clenched desperately around her cock. It was under the pressure of her core’s embrace that she felt his breathing quicken,the rush of air hot against the back of her neck as he reached the very peak of his climax.

His hands fell away from her lip ribbon, and Katie fell back onto her hands and knees. Her entire body trembled as she lowered herself down to the mattress. The soft twitches involuntary as she was left panting and void of Jeremy as he eased his cock from her. She was seeing stars, her head or the room spinning as the rush of being fucked began to fade. Katie was left exhausted, ready for sleep, but satisfied - feeling euphoria for the first time in years. But before she could sleep, she needed to take care of Jeremy.

“You’re welcome to shower before you go,” she offered as she lay sprawled out on the mattress. It was the least she could do.

“I’m going to take you up on that,” Jeremy carded a hand through his sweaty curls as he nodded towards what he thought was the bathroom door.

Katie nodded in confirmation, and watched as he disappeared through the bathroom door. She did not move until she could hear the water tattooing against the shower floor. But she didn’t go far. She reached out to the dresser, and she pulled open the dresser drawer. She had left her pajamas on the very top, the same ones she was going to wear before Dottie had convinced her to go out, and she dressed slowly. Her body ached in the best way as she stepped into them. Then, she joined Jeremy in the bathroom.

The room was full of steam, the mirror fogged over as she moved to stand in front of it. A single hand cut through the fog, revealing her tired reflection, but best of all she could see the silhouette of Jeremy in the shower behind her. She stood there, brushing her teeth, her eyes admiring his body as it was obscured by the steamy glass.

Leaning forward, Katie spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

“I’m going to turn in, you can let yourself out when you’re done. Use all the hot water if you want, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t steal my wallet while I slept.”

Jeremy’s laughter filled the air as effortlessly as the plumes of steam from his shower. It drew Katie's eyes to his blurred silhouette, a small smile curling up on her own lips. She could get used to that sound, and the warm fuzzy feeling that came with it. The joy and amusement it embodied was one she needed to embrace herself–

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. Goodnight, Katie.”

–And for a moment she frowned as she moved for the doorway, her eyes fixated on the ground, as she realized it was a laugh she wouldn't hear again.

Sweaty palms threatened the integrity of a single slip of paper as Katie held it firm in a single fist. It was a pale yellow posted note, one that she had found stuck to her bathroom mirror when she had woken up in the morning. It was left there to be found by tired eyes, the message: For if you ever find yourself alone in Boston. Paired with Jeremy’s phone number, it had made her smile as she tucked it into her purse before she had gone out for brunch with her son, Parker, her ex-husband and his new fiance. But it had also left her panicked when it had fallen out of her purse when she pulled out her wallet as she insisted on paying at least half of the bill. It rested on the table face door for a moment, Katie had frozen completely and Parker was quick to try and retrieve it for her, but she had acted quickly. She had grabbed it before he could, and then she had conceded. Parker paid for their meal, and the paper had remained secured in her hand as they left and parted ways.

Even as she walked alone in a park she couldn’t remember the name of, the slip of paper remained secure in her hand. In the other she held her cell phone against her ear as it rang. She needed to call Dottie. She needed to know everything.

“He left me his number.”

“That’s my girl. Rocked that boy’s world.” Dottie encouraged her with a holler.

Katie looked down to her feet, her face flushed with color. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done anything like she had with Jeremy, and if it had been anyone else Katie would have bit her tongue. But she could trust Dottie more than anyone. They were best friends, practically sisters, Katie could tell her anything.

“I think he had to be older than I thought. He was actually really good in bed,” Katie smiled a little too wide as she spoke. It had been too long since she had a real girl talk. “Like really good. And his body, Dot, I couldn't have pulled a guy like that when I was twenty.”

“What did he say he did for work?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask-”

“Maybe he’s a porn star,” Dottie joked but Katie didn’t laugh.

She could only shrug. “I mean, it would explain a lot.”

“You used a condom, right?”

“Yes mom, of course I did,” Katie rolled her eyes.

“Good girl, are you going to text him?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Katie looked away out over the park as if Katie could see her on what was merely a voice call. The prospect of reaching out to Jeremy was a pleasant thought in her mind. He was attractive, kind, and so good in bed. He treated her the way that she wanted to be treated. She should want to call him, but he was young. Too young to be anything more than a one night stand.

She could never see Jeremy again.

“Fuck, no,” she assured Dottie, “number went into the trash,” her words were rushed as she lied, and rushed further to assure Dottie wouldn’t question her on it. “I gotta go, I’ll call you after the game tonight. Kisses!”

TD Garden was unlike any arena Katie had ever been in. The fans were loud, so loud she swore her bones rattled in her body with every intense cheer. And the atmosphere left her sitting on the edge of the seat since before the game could even start. Or maybe that was just the nerves as she sat beside her ex-husband as they watched their son Parker Waylon-Stacy erupt from the tunnel to take his rookie lap.

Her hands came together over her heart, her eyes fixated on him, and then the jumbotron above as the camera followed his path along the side. The threat of tears burned at her eyes, her lips parted in a breath that fought back of heartfelt sob that erupted when his name was plastered across the screen with his stats from the AHL. Parker Stacy.

Stacy.

Her last name on her back, not her husband’s last name or the hyphenation of the two. It left ehr on the verge of tears throughout the night, and they did spill as it came down to the third period when she shot up from her seat as her son assisted on what would be the game winning goal. Katie cried into her hands, her husband’s arm patting her back as the crowd erupted around them. There was no greater pride than celebrating her son’s success in that moment with her husband, and the strangers around her that even offered her some napkins as her mascara began to run.

“That’s my son,” she sobbed with pride, and the crowd of college kids around her celebrated with her. Some jumped, others spilled their beer, Katie even received a hug, but they all cheered, “Stacy's Mom!”

Katie remained in her seat after the game, reveling in the silence as the seats around her and her family cleared. And she only moved from her palace when she received a text message from Parker. He wanted them to come down to the locker room. It sent her through what felt like a maze of the arena, but with the help of a member of the security team, she found her boy.

Katie ran to him, her arms enveloping her only son in her arms and pressing a kiss into his sweat drench hair. There the tears began to fall in hot streams down her cheeks, “I am so proud of you,” she told him as she drew back, her hand cradling his cheeks. Parker’s face was red, surely embarrassed by his mother’s affections, but he didn’t stop her. He had always been a mama’s boy, and that wouldn’t change even if his teammates gave him a hard time about that later.

Parker wore a boyish grin, his hand raising to push through his wet hair. He was already showered and dressed, even if some of the other players around him were still half-dressed in their equipment. Parker was ready to leave, but first he wanted to make the introductions he felt he may never be able to make again. “Mom this is Patrice Bergeron-”

Katie turned in place, a smile blossoming over her face as she reached out to shake the Captain’s hand. She had every intention of being polite. She wanted to introduce herself, to make the small talk as she was prompted to. But her words were lost as hoots and hollers of the nickname Bulldog filled the room. The players were welcoming their rookie goaltender back into the room after completing his post game interview. Confidence embodied his every stride, and it drew Katie’s curious eye.

The player was still dressed in his equipment, his back to her as he stood in front of his stall. SWAYMAN was sprawled across the back of his shoulders, framed by his shoulders. A single large hand reached back, peeling it from his body before it was tossed into a pile with the others. Katie’s eyes moved back to the Captain, a small awkward smile on her lips as she listened to him talk about the pleasure of mentoring her son. But his words were lost on her ears as they perked up at the sound of all too familiar laughter.

Katie’s blood ran cold, her eyes searching for the sources of the laughter. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach jumping up into her throat as she was left on the verge of vomiting. There, standing in his stall, laughing along with his teammates was Swayman, who no longer stood with his back to her. He was completely shirtless now, and his face was all too clear to see. She knew those warm brown eyes, and that soft confident smile. The sight of them was one that would be etched into her memories for the rest of her days.

Swayman was Jeremy.

She stood there, petrified, her eyes unmoving from his as he leaned back and flexed his chest muscles. It was there, with his back leaned against his stall, his warm gaze rose and his face softened with recognition. If he was panicked he didn’t show it. And while she froze, Jeremy acted. He stood up slowly, Katie had to fight not to let her eyes wander, and he approached with a casual stride.

“I didn’t realize we had guests,” Jeremy smiled as he came up to stand beside his Captain, but Katie could barely hear him over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

The room around her seemed to move in slow motion, her head suddenly feeling light as Patrice introduced her as Stacy’s Mom. It was then she thought she might actually vomit, the bile burning at the back of her throat as Jeremy looked to her with slightly parted lips and a slight glimmer in his eyes. Her palms began to sweat, so much so that she had to wipe her hands along the seam of her jeans before she could reach out to shake Jeremy’s hand as he offered it to her.

“Stacy’s Mom?” Jeremy spoke with such disbelief that Katie almost believed her, “You don’t look a day over thirty.”

White she had heard that same flattery before it made her heart race all the same. But this time, she couldn’t show it.

“You’re too kind,” Katie forced a smile, struggling to remain composed as the feeling of her hand encased by his left her heart racing just as his touch had the night before. It was enough to bring her to her knees.

Jeremy made her weak, and he would for the rest of her days. She would crave him, in every sense of the word. Katie wanted to hear his sweet laughter. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, and enjoy every piece of his that he could offer her. It was a hunger that would rage and burn in the depths of her, but it was one that she could never fulfill. Not now, not that she knew who he was.

Standing there, the chaos of the room became an echo in her ears as her hand fell away from Jeremy’s hold. She watched as he met her ex-husband, his smile consistently pleasant and was the only thing keeping her from spiraling right there in the locker room.

Katie would be seeing Jeremy Swayman again. At games, during breaks. Often. So often it would pain her. And she could only pray that she would have the strength to refuse him, or that Parker would find himself on a new team before her will could break.

Katherine Stacey could not fuck Jeremy Swayman.

She wouldn’t.

Not again.

Surely, she wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Not without complications.

Could she?

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl

#jeremy swayman #boston bruins #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #hockey rpf #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey romance #age gap romance #nhl writing #jeremy swayman x original character #nhl smut

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