#Madison Flame | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sturniolohouse · 5 months ago

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Landslide - C.S

summary: this is a a short platonic fic where chris and y/n can’t sleep and they have a heart to heart. (y/n is in relationship with matt).

A/N: i kept coming back to this draft, there was just something about it that i liked but it may not be everyone's cup of tea. working on another matt fic right now so stay tuned🫡

word count: 1.4k

“can i sail through the changing ocean tides? can i handle the seasons of my life?”

I wake up feeling hot but not being able to move. I open an eye and look down my chest to see a mop of brown hair laying just under my collarbone.

I sigh deeply realizing I’m caged in by a sleeping Matthew, half of his body on top of mine and his arm draped over my waist.

One thing I’ve told Matt since we started staying at each other’s houses is that I run hot in my sleep. But this kid always manages to find a way to touch me in his sleep. I even made him buy a fan for his room because of the fact that I cannot sleep without one on.

But tonight that fan is not doing shit and I’m trapped underneath a living furnace.

I sigh again feeling bad about moving and waking him, but I fear if I don’t move I will burst into flames.

I take another look at him and see he’s truly out cold so I may be able to get him off of me without waking him.

I reach for his hand on my left hip and lift it slowly, rolling myself away from him carefully before placing my feet to the cool wood floor.

I exhale in relief feeling myself cool down almost immediately as I look back to see him still sound asleep.

I grab my phone from the bedside table and see it’s almost 5 am. I run a hand down my face and get up slowly, walking to the door.

I might just sleep on the couch tonight.

I use the bathroom and head to the kitchen to grab a water. When I turn the light on, I see a figure on the couch from the corner of my eye.

I jump covering my mouth, "Jesus, fucking christ. You scared me." I put my hand over my heart that's about to beat out of my chest.

It’s just Chris.

"Sorry, sorry. It’s just me. I couldn't sleep." He laughs quietly, putting his hands up.

I sigh, “Me neither. Your brother was suffocating me.” I tell him, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I take two waters from the fridge, walking over to the couch and handing him one.

“Thanks,” He cracks open the cap. “Yeah, kid sleeps like a tornado.” He jokes and I shake my head.

“I was gonna sleep on the couch but you beat me to it. Weren’t you going to sleep in Nick’s room tonight?” I ask him, laying back into the cushion.

“Yeah it’s just not the same sleeping in his bed when he’s not home. So, I came down here but my mind is just…awake. Don’t know, won’t shut down I guess.” He confesses, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

Nick had spent the last couple of days with Madison since she had gotten back from tour and ended up staying at her house. And since I’ve been here, Chris has been on his own at night.

“You okay?” I ask softly, running my hand up and down his back. He gives me a tight lip smile and nods his head.

“I don’t really like the nights. They’re kinda lonely.” He shrugs as he fidgets with the label on the water bottle.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me, I know I’m grown and should be able to fall asleep in my own bed it’s just hard for me,”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“It’s just,” he pauses, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “And don’t get me wrong, y/n, I really like you. I’m so happy Matt has found someone and you two clearly love each other. It’s just I look at people like you and Matt, and you have a connection. You have a partner you can do anything with. And I look at me who can’t, or won’t, allow myself to have those things. And it’s becoming harder and harder to drown out the loneliness, but I don’t know how to let anyone in like that. I’m scared that I can’t, you know?” He confesses and my heart breaks for him.

Chris and I have a very sibling like relationship. I’m close with both of Matt’s brothers, but when I first met Chris, we were at each other's throats.

It would be stupid shit, like me drinking a can of soda from the fridge that was “his” or me being in the shower for too long or Matt driving me somewhere after he had told Chris no.

This initially caused a lot of tension between Matt and I because he was torn between defending his girlfriend and his brother. But I never made him choose between Chris and I.

"I don't know why he's being such a dick. Kid's so fucking unreasonable." Matt sighs, running a hand down his face.

"He's going to have to get used to me at some point because I'm not going anywhere." I shrug, not taking his hostility personally.

"Him and I are going to have a talk tomorrow." Matt says shaking his head.

"Just wait it out. He'll come around," I reassure him, running my hand through his hair.

I always understood that it was difficult for him to adapt to the new dynamic between his brothers once I came into the picture.

Matt spent more time with me and less time with Chris and Nick and it was a pretty big adjustment for Chris at first.

It took a few months, but with a lot of patience and giving him space, I eventually broke through to him l. And now two years in, we have a deep understanding and respect for one another.

As two important people in Matt’s life.

“This isn’t really a mindset you can force yourself into. It’s gotta happen organically. And it can happen without you even realizing. But if you keep your heart and your mind open, you’ll find someone too. Anyone would be so lucky to have you, Chris, truly. You’re fucking amazing. And I’m not just saying that.” I say with a firm voice.

He nods, “I’m just in my feelings,” He tries to lighten the mood, a small smile peeking through but all I can see is the tiredness and uncertainty weighing in his eyes.

He’s not looking to deepen the conversation, but rather just looking for an ear to listen to his fears.

I listened, that’s all he needs.

“You want me to play with your hair to make you sleepy? Usually does the trick for me.” I offer with a soft smile.

He wordlessly puts his head in my lap and I run my fingers through his messy hair. Combing through the tiny tangles and knots.

“You need a haircut, kid.” I say and he flips me off without looking at me.

“I know, haven’t had the time.” He mumbles, shuffling and getting more comfortable.

Chris rarely lets anyone see his bad moments, let alone anyone but his brothers. But he’s been able to be vulnerable around me.

I’m there for him as much as he lets me. Even if it’s scratching his head so he can get some sleep.

He’s not always the loud, goofy person people see on camera.

Maybe 10 minutes passes and I start to hear the birds chirping outside and the beginning of sunrise is evident through the cracks of the shades.

I feel Chris begin to get heavier and sink deeper into the couch next to me.

“If you want, you’re more than welcome to take my spot in Matt’s bed.” I laugh softly and I hear him chuckle lowly as he shakes his head.

“I’ll pass.”

Soon enough his breathing slows completely and I know he’s asleep. I lay my head back and try to get as comfortable as I can, seeing as I’m stuck again.

When I close my eyes I hear Matt’s door creak open and see him peak out around the corner.

He spots me on the couch before giving me a confused look. I nod my head towards Chris on my lap, quietly showing I’m trapped. A small sleepy smile creeps on his face as he shakes his head and makes his way over to sit next to me.

"I was wondering where you went." He says lowly, his voice laced with sleep.

“Came out here because I was overheating and this kid couldn’t sleep either,” I whisper laying my head on his shoulder and yawning.

He hums, “Hmm, you scratched his head?” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into him.

“Yup.”

“Works every time.”

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolohouse

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sierrale8ne · 2 months ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER EIGHT

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @h34rtsformilli @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings substance use, infidelity, sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! good morningggg ;) song for this chapter is BPW by jasmine sullivan, you’ll know when to play it!

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

The lights are low in the studio this evening, as per usual whenever I’m here. I’m not the type to have multiple people in my space, usually it’s just me, Kaylee, and my producer. But tonight I get to be wonderfully distracted by Page Madison Bueckers.

Her phone is propped up on a bottle of Patron, some audio playing from it as she makes a TikTok in front of me. I’m fighting a laugh in the midst of rolling a blunt, because everything they say about her lack of rhythm seems to be true.

“Oh you’re annoying.” She laughs, picking up on my obvious amusement and mushing my face with her fingers.

“Hips don’t lie.” I giggle. “C’mon, no way you thought I wasn’t gon’ make fun of you.”

“You a bully. Ion know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because I’m just so pretty.” I reply jokingly.

Paige rolls her eyes at my statement, retaking her original seat in the rolling chair next to mine and shoving her phone in the pocket of her black Essentials sweatshorts.

If there’s any color I love on Paige, it’s definitely black. The darkness perfectly accentuates the tan of her skin and the bright blond of her hair and the blue of her eyes. She’s been wearing it more lately. Which I find odd, considering the blazing heat in California this summer.

I asked her to be here. No other reason than being alone in the studio is usually a recipe for disaster. She took up my offer gratefully, almost too grateful but I was probably overthinking it.

“You gonna let me hear some unreleased shit, or what?” Paige asked. Her chair slides closer to mine until our arms are touching. Our noses are close too, my eyes boring into hers. Purple rimmed wide framed glasses sit on her nose, making them look bigger.

I look away quickly, leaning towards the monitor in front of me. “I can, yeah.” I tell her, setting the blunt on the rolling tray. “If you leak it tho’ I’d have to kill you.” I joke as my eyes pass through all the possible unreleased and unfinished songs on the file.

I watch her take the substance into her own hands, packing and rolling it in places I didn’t get to reach yet. I would normally be pissed off, watching someone else roll my blunt as if I couldn’t do it myself. But the way her tongue darts out to lick it sealed, pretty and pink and soft, then her perfect fucking face has me mesmerized.

“Who taught you how to roll?” I laugh, honestly a bit shocked.

“I was in college for five years, you think I didn’t learn?” Paige looks back at me, fingers still sealing it like a second nature.

“You probably shouldn’t tell people you were in school for that long.” I snide and her elbow meets my ribs.

I take it from her hands gracefully when she finishes, putting it between my slightly chapped lips. Paige takes the lighter, striking the flame a few times until it lights and bringing the flame to the end of the blunt. Her blues are basically eating up my soul, the tip of her tongue peaking out slightly in concentration until I take the first hit.

The weed fills my lungs fast, and I take the blunt away from my lips, smoke clouding the air. Paige was still in season, and due to her recent shooting outbursts, subject to multiple rounds of drug testing. She wasn’t smoking with me tonight, rather taking a few shots from the liquor not too far away.

I laugh at the thought, “they really been testing you?”

She nods, the light falling from her hands and back onto the desk. She’s so close, I can smell every note of her cologne. Lavender, some cedarwood.

“Literally this morning. As soon as I stepped off the court last night I got an email saying I got an appointment in the morning.” She chuckled.

To say Paige had been on a tear this month would be an understatement. 20 point games, double-doubles, off of crazy efficiency too. She’s shooting 57% from the field and 42% from three, but last night she shot almost perfect, literally, 10/10 on her first shots 13/15 on the game.

For someone who claimed to not be a big basketball fan, she has me watching and remembering her stats like i’ve been doing it for years.

“Okay, music.” She starts. “If you had to make a collab album with one artist, who would it be?”

I sit back and bit for her question, but the answer really wasn’t too difficult. “Frank Ocean, easily.”

“Really? I thought you’d say Drake or sum.” She chuckles.

“Him too!” I responded. “But Frank doesn’t make music with just anybody. If I get that, I’ll know I made.” I shrug. It’s a dream that’s a bit out of touch, he hasn’t put out music in years, but one can wish.

“Imma manifest that Frank feature for you, angel.” She smiles. Her hand reaches to brush my hair out of my line of sight before gesturing with it towards the monitor, “which one can I hear?”

I skim past all the music loaded up on the screen before clicking on a file, all the colorful waves pop up individually. The vocals, ad-libs, all the snares and drums. To me, it’s normal. I wasn’t a producer but after making music for so long, the technicalities become less and less overwhelming and more interesting.

“Wow.” Paige breathes.

“It’s a lot, I know.”

“Is it finished?” She asks me. I nod, shaking my hand side to side as to non verbally tell her ‘sorta’. The title reads BPW and yes it pretty much is finished, but I’m a perfectionist and I feel like most songs can always have more.

“You wanna hear it?” I question while looking her way. I take another drag from the blunt. “It’s kinda nasty tho’. The label only let me put two freaky songs on there, so this one got pushed back.”

“Only? You’re a freak, bro.” Paige replies. “Lemme hear it.”

The instrumental echos first when I hit play. Violin and bass, and then I remember I tried to avoid the piano for this song since most of my discography already is over taken by it. The intro is long, when I look over at Paige and she’s listening intently, I start to get nervous. “It’s still missing some thi—”

Her finger meets my lips, indirectly telling me to shut up. I sit there shocked. It’s soft, her finger, sliding down my bottom lip until her hand rests in my lap. It’s like i’m not even there, just another object in the room as she got consumed by the music.

I didn’t think I could be more turned on.

It’s the reason I write in the first place, the reaction and the feeling of absorption from my lyrics or my sound. But not many people around me get that. Paige so clearly does. It makes me feel warm, taken over with emotion because she sits there so focused, waiting for that first vocal.

—

Well shit, I think to myself when I finally hear the lyrics.

Maraye is crazy. She’s crazy for having me sit here and listen to her sing about sex while she wears those tight ass shorts, just days after telling me we are just friends. I can’t do anything about it.

My head slowly bows back and forth along with the sound of her voice. This song doesn’t deserve to be unreleased, it deserves to be in my library, on that playlist.

And even though we ain’t official

You know I ain't no regular girl

So tell me whenever I'm witcha

I got the best pussy in the—

I stare at her in awe, not just because of what I’m hearing but the way the smoke passes through her lips has me squeezing my legs together. My hand still rests in her lap lazily, I can’t will it to move, I don’t think she wants me to either.

It’s clear to me I have no self control. The other night, just minutes after dropping her off at home, I said I was done. Julian was a dickhead but that’s Maraye’s dickhead and I needed to respect it. Then here she goes, singing about how good she is in bed, and looking this fucking good. I need her. In all definitions of the word, I need her bad.

I stand up, needing some sort of space between us before I’m ripping every single thread of clothing on her body. I take a comfortable seat on the edge of the control panel, bowing my head with the melody. My heart rapidly beats in my chest, palms growing sweaty.

“You’re really good at this.” I breathe.

The song comes to an end, she presses a few buttons on her monitor that I don’t really care for. “Thank you, love.”

I force a large amount of oxygen into my lungs. Why did she have to say that? I was already struggling just being in the same room. Those damn eyes turning me into a mess between my thighs and here she goes.

A giggle escapes Maraye’s lips as she takes another hit. “Are you drunk?”

I shake my head. “Nah, ma. This tequila is hittin’ though.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm what?”

“Nothing.” Maraye mumbles. “Whatcha think about the song?” She asks me. She scoots the chair closer to me, wheels rolling against the hardwood until she’s seated between my legs.

“Only you could make singing ‘bout sex sound so perfect.” I comment. She really did sound angelic, the nickname so fitting. My arms are crossed over my chest as I size her up. It’s the first time I get a good look at her tattoos, normally I’m looking at her eyes or her thighs or shamelessly her tits. But the ink down her arm makes me crazy.

There’s one in particular that catches my eye. Linework of three faces overlapped, one blue, one green, and one red. I have no idea of the meaning, or what it stands for but the pop of color on her skin eats me alive.

Maraye shifts in her seat and a smile inches on her lips. Her hips moving in a way that intrigues me. “You alright there, angel?”

“I’m just fine, superstar. You?” She poses. I reach forward, taking the blunt from her hand and taking a drag. The way it clouds my brain let me know that I was not about to leave this room without making a move on her. I set it on the tray to my right, listing to her as she hums, “that song looked like it riled you up. I’m observant.”

I pull her in closer by the arm of the chair, if I couldn’t flirt I would sure as hell have fun teasing her. “I’m observant too. You been holding these legs together all night. Why?”

“Are you minding my business?”

“Yeah, ma. Now what?”

She doesn’t respond and now I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to get everything out in the open, all the things she wants to say but holds back on.

“The line is paper thin, Madison.”

“Like I asked, why you been sittin’ like this?” I ask again.

I know what I want her to say. I want her to tell me it’s me. That I got her so turned on that she’s sitting here with her legs practically glued together because it’s morally wrong to act on how she’s feeling. Even tell me that she wants to rip my clothes off as badly as I want to rip hers off.

Her foot taps against the floor, echoing off the walls alongside our in sync breathing. “I-uh. M’just crossed. Leave me alone” She begs, voice low almost like she’s shy. It’s cute.

“Jus’ crossed, baby? Y’sure?”

I don’t think i’ve ever been so forward with Maraye than I am right now. Everything running through my body right now is like a shot of adrenaline.

“Paige! You can’t be doing this to me right now.” She tosses her head back frustratedly. I’m stifling a laugh from where I stand. I knew I could get her flustered but this was too easy.

She looks back up at me, her eyes dark and slightly glazed over. The weed has her eyes rimed with red and oddly enough the smell it exudes from her is incredible. Nearly as intoxicating as the substance itself.

“Doin’ what?” I chuckle. “I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable, angel. You look tense.”

“You make me tense.”

I fake a pout. “Lemme fix it.”

“Why do you insist on not having a boundary or respecting mine?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever had boundaries, Raye.” I point out.

My hands instinctively reach for her own, standing her up so I’m not longer craning my neck to look at her. Still, the good four inches I have on her makes her eye me eagerly. Looking up like she’s giving in. “Paige we can’t.” Maraye sighs.

“So tell me to stop.” I muse.

“What?”

I trail my hands to her body. The left holding onto her hip while the other wraps around her waist. She doesn’t even try to fight me off, instead I swear she falls into me more. Her hand holds onto my bicep, avoiding eye contact with me.

I notice it. Every single act that is out of her normal. The stuttering and looking everywhere but me. She’s shy. I’ll take it as a good thing, that my actions have her reacting like a school girl.

“Lemme get you right.” I murmur.

Maraye’s mouth opens, then closes immediately after. My head pushes towards her, right where her neck meets her shoulder. I get a good whiff of her Chanel perfume.

“This is so wrong, P.” She whispers.

“Tell me,” I start with my lips up against her ear, “to stop.”

“The cameras.”

I look around the control panel, before spotting the on/off switch under the table. I flick it off, the red light by the camera in the corner blinks off.

“I—”

“Oh my God, just shut up.” I hum and it’s a matter of seconds before our lips are touching, moving against one another in sync.

It’s different than the first time. That one was slow, like we were still trying to figure it out. But this one? This one is hungry, fast and familiar. I can make out the taste of weed on her lips, tequila in the back of her mouth when my tongue reaches that spot.

Maraye’s hands are in my hair, tugging it between her fingers all hurried like I could slip away. Mine are everywhere. her hips, her thighs, her ass. I squeeze it before smoothing a hand over the area. A groan slips past my lips and into her mouth.

I’m pushing us away from the table, past all the chairs and wires until her back hits the leather couch behind us. I pull back, and her mouth is sucking on my tongue. I swear God himself would have to claw me off of her after that.

“Wanna take your clothes off.” I pant. My kisses move to her jaw, licking it before moving down her neck. I’m searching for that sweet spot, and when she moans in my ear I know I’ve found it.

It’s quite easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Maraye is quite easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Her stunning brown skin and curls that tickle my face with each suck I give to her neck. The septum in her nose and tattoos down her arm. To make things harder for me she smells fucking incredible, and the feel of her plush thighs in my hands reduces me to nothing.

My knee meets the center of her legs, that spot that makes her arch into me. I reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and it hangs off the arm of the couch.

“I wanna fuck you right here, angel.” I mutter against her warm skin. Maraye cups my face, pulling my lips back to hers eagerly. She licks at my bottom lip before slipping it into my mouth. I swallow up every moan she gives me, so damn desperate for more. My hand grips her breast that unfortunately is confined in that black sports bra she wears.

“Paige, fuck.” She gasps against me. Her hand leaves my face to pull my glasses off, they’re unbelievably foggy and I didn’t even notice, too busy tonguing her down to care. She holds them before kissing me again and biting my bottom lip.

“You’re fuckin’ nasty.” I sigh, pulling her closer.

Maraye moans my name when I push my knee deeper into her cunt. I can feel just how wet she is against my bare skin.

“Lemme have you, ma.” I grunt, suddenly felling very hot in the UConn hoodie I have on. “Show me how good that pussy is, baby. You said it’s the best, yeah? Prove it.”

It’s carnal the way I need her. Like my sole purpose for being put on this earth was to please her. I’ll do it. Happily. Hell, I’m begging for it.

“Fuck. God, P.” She hiccups, letting my hands travel wherever they can reach. They settle on her hips, playing with the waistband of her shorts while my tongue continues to clash with hers. God, it’s messy. Saliva sticky on my chin.

I’m about to dig into her shorts when the door handle fumbles. I sigh gratefully that it’s locked but then I hear it, the clicking.

—

The fact that I have to fight with myself on whether or not I should push Paige off of me is very telling of my behavior. Someone is messing with the lock on the door, so with what leftover strength I have, I pull away from Paige and push her back off of me.

She reaches for my face and wipes the saliva from my lips, giving me one more chaste kiss before sitting back on the opposite end of the couch. I search for my shirt, which has now made it’s way to the floor. By the time I toss it over my head and hand Paige her glasses back and fluff my hair so it is naturally falling over the hickeys I assume Paige has left on my neck, the door is swinging open.

“God damn, Raye. You coul— oh. I didn’t know you had someone else in here.”

It’s Kaylee, which makes me let out quite possibly the world’s biggest sigh of relief. I play with my bottom lip, hoping she can’t point out how swollen it is from Paige biting it.

Her taste, like cherries and a bit of tequila, has completely overpowered any other taste previously in my mouth. She’s taken over my entire body.

“Hey.” Paige greets her, awkwardly clearing her throat.

Kaylee smiles and waves before walking to the controls. She drops her bag in the seat I had just occupied earlier. She stands still, then looks up in the corner, the light by the camera’s that are almost always on suddenly off.

She flips the switch before turning to look at the two of us.

“Huh. Someone turned the camera’s off.” She comments.

“Weird.” I reply.

Really weird.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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notthesomefather · 1 month ago

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Goddess Hel, divine hostess whose arms lovingly embrace all guests, Watch over those who have crossed your gates against their will. Care for those taken from us and bless them with tranquil rest.

Godx Loki, story-teller and guardian of outcasts, Give words to our sorrow so that we may honor their memories. Breathe air into our lungs so we may bellow our love over hatred.

Goddess Hel, cherisher of life and daughter of metamorphosis, Bestow in their loved ones moments of laughter, healing, and peace. May their names echo not just in sorrow but in smiling remembrance.

Godx Loki, change-bringer and waker of revolution, Spark the flames of unrelenting authenticity within us. Stoke the ember of truth until the hateful are blinded by its light.

Under the cut are the siblings, youth, and elders whose lives were taken due to hatred, bigotry, and fear. I understand it is incredibly triggering, but I believe we owe it to them to read their names.

We love you. We are unendingly sorry and we will never stop fighting until the hatred that stole you from this life has been extinguished. We love you so much.

(December 2023 - November 2024) Savannah Williams Bernardo Panteleon Pepper Mychel Peterson Mariah Ruby Rachel Williams F. L. “Bubba” Copeland Lola Laperla Ebony McDaniels Shandon Floyd Tiesha McFarland Kejuan Richardson Amiri Jean Reid Mya Finch Travis Stimeling Demita Jo Armstrong Onteris Owens-Campbell Jesse Viviano White Star Possum Jermaine Golden Meghan Riley Lewis Zoey Flye Madison Montana Care Hansen Amber Minor Ashlei Jasmine Colgate-Edwards Fleetwood Mars Mozee Shelby “Lexus” Riddick-Walker Kimbella Blackshear Easley Jeffcoat Tripp Schultz Lady Fabian Sanchez James Moen Dana Randolph “Desiree A. DeMornay” Quin Joy Sasha Williams Jennell Jaquays Sarina Mihailoff Sasha Washington-Cohen “Sasha Fierce” Guelila “Gigi” Iyob Videl Lombardo Savannah Rose Rivers Amore Kathy “Otter” Ottersten Robin Valentina Forrest Douglas Buckley Giselle Stone Tristan Michael Bustos “Tristyn St. Clair” Kitty Monroe Natalia Skye Teddy Reese Curran Erick Krouse Noah Jackson Chase Ellie Walsh Nex Benedict Emma “África” Parrilla García Blakely Hanson Righteous TK “Chevy” Hill Ashton Myles Clatterbuck Madison Nicole Spann “Madison St. Claire” Cecilia Gentili Diamond Cherish Brigman Elliot Ganiel Fae Morganna Barbone Aurelia A. Legassey Alex Franco Meraxes Medina Ty Geissinger “Ty Holiday” Andrea Doria Dos Passos “Maggie” Yella Clark Allister Matthews Tiffany Azalea Monceaux Tara Fable Randy Dudley River Neveah Goddard Tee “Ace” Arnold George A. Schappell Starr Brown Robbi Mecus Basil Brown Tayy Dior Thomas Kita Bee Kamryn “Cantrell” Smith Jazlynn Johnson Daelicious O’hare Mizani Darri C. Moore Niomi Jenkins Michelle Henry Saanti Bonét Valentino Pauly Likens M. Tapia Lynn Conway Liara Kaylee Tsai Dylan Gurley Griffin Shaun Sivret Kenji Zemonta Spurgeon Ev Smith Shannon Boswell Levi Castillo Lily Autumn Rose Monique Brooks Noelle Woolley Indiana Grayson Vanity Williams Tai’Vion Lathan Jhzara “Femmie” Williams Baxter Zachary Hawk Kassim Omar Liam Johns Mahdia Lynn Cass Trystero Chilli Pepper Barbie Iceland “Redd China” Honee Daniels Serenity Birdsong Adela Vázquez San Coleman Zeta Muirgen Seraph Haber

#lgbtqia #hel #loki #prayers #heathen #pagan #trans day of remembrance #TDOR #trans #transgender #norse pagan

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chris-slut · 7 months ago

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𓈒𓏸 𖦹 best friends brother ⸝⸝ 🥂 .ᐟ ׄ ׅ ྀ

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𖦹 ׅ ࣪ dom!chris x bfb!reader , enemies 2 lovers & best friends brother!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𖦹 ׅ ࣪ smut, oral!fem, fingering, nicknames; (baby, mama/ma, good girl, etc!), p in v, protected sex.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𖦹 ׅ ࣪ sydney has been best friends with nick since she could remember. her and chris have always found eachother attractive but have had a hatred against eachother for ages. what happens when someone can’t keep his hands off syd at a party?

authors note; i hate this but i needed to post.

purple; nick

blue; matt

orange; chris

pink; sydney

green; madison (beer)

“okay bitch, you ready to go!?” nick says as he fixes his tie from around his neck, looking over at sydney. the corners of her lips turn up as she gives him a nod. “yup! let’s go, i am ready to get drunkkk!”

the pair walks down the stairs to matt and chris, sydney going over to the couch and grabbing her purse with only lipgloss in it.

chris carefully watches her every move, taking in the outfit the girl is wearing. he wishes he could be the one taking it off her tonight, but he knows he could never. she’s just nicks best friend.

sydney took notice of chris looking at her and gave herself a slight smirk. she’s always thought of chris in ways no one should think of their best friends brother, but who cares? cause surely she doesn’t.

“hey chris,” sydney mumbles to him as she walks past him, walking out of the sturniolo’s house. chris just nods his head in her direction as he puts his hands in his pockets and follows her to the car.

sydney sits next to nick in the back as she plugs her phone in to connect to the aux. “no mrs.swift and we’re good, alright syd?” matt says to her as she nods in response.

the group was going to their friend, madison’s, house for a party she was throwing for her new album.

it only took a few minutes to get there since the sturniolo’s live not to far from the girl. sydney was the first one to quickly get out the car and walk up to the front door, giving a polite knock.

madison opens the door with a huge smile, “heyyy syd!! it’s been so long girl oh my gosh? come on in!” she says as madison opens the door wider for the girl.

the rest follow behind her as they go in separate directions, from the dance floor to the drink stand. chris doesn’t stay to far from sydney tho, not for any specific reasons of course..?

sydney quickly gets to the dance floor, random people surrounding her as the song “moth to a flame” blasts through her ears.

a random boy walks over to sydney, running his hands over her body as he grinds against her in a dancing manner slowly. as chris see’s this, his grip on his drink tightens.

who is this man? and why is his hands on MY woman?

before any bad thoughts could enter chris’s mind, his feet move him towards the pair, pushing past anyone or anything that’s in his way.

“sydney? what’s going on over here baby?” chris says as his hands wander to his waist, shooting the guy a look.

“what— why are you call-“ before she could finish her scentence, chris’s lips hit hers. the boy quickly walks away as chris’s hands roam all over her body.

a whimper passes her lips which makes chris’s tounge enter her mouth. before anything gets to heated though, she quickly backs away as her eye meet his. “what was..” sydney says as she catches her breathe, “what was that for?” she finishes.

“i don’t like how that boy had his hands all over you. he can’t do that. you’re my girl, not his.” chris admits as his lips ghost over hers.

“let’s go somewhere else, alright?” he whispers against her lips as he grabs her hand and pulls her to madison’s guest bedroom.

sydney feels her back get pressed up against the door as a click fills the room, indicating the doors locked. wasting no time, chris smashes his plump lips against hers.

teeth clashing and wet noises fill the room as their lips move against eachother for was feels like hours. “let me take this off you, yeah?” chris says as his fingers hook in the loop of her denim skirt. sydney nods as he swiftly takes them down.

“fuck chris..” sydney quietly whispers as his head dips between her thighs. chris kitten licks her core through her panties as his hands run up and down her thighs. “don’t stop, please,” she whispers as chris nods against her.

“i don’t think i could stop even if i wanted to syd,” chris whispers as he rips her panties off with his teeth, going right into her clit. a loud groan escapes sydney’s lips which makes chris put 2 fingers into her mouth.

chris’s tongue pushes into her as he sloppily places wet kisses against her core. he slowly slides his fingers out which caused a pop from sydney’s lips.

he places the 2 fingers into her as he slowly pushes them in and out of her. “ohhh fuck chris!” she moans a little louder than the last time, her chest rising up and down. “just like that..” she whimpers out.

“fuck mama, so good. always so good for me,” chris praises as he looks up at her, his fingers knuckle deep in her. sydney tries to contain eye contact but as she reaches her high, she quickly looks away.

“if you don’t keep eye contact i’m gonna stop, alright ma?” chris tells her which makes sydney quickly look at him. “o..okay,” she breathes out as chris smirks to himself.

“atta girl,” he whispers as he plunges his fingers in her at a faster pace. sydney’s legs begin to shake, “close.. close!” she screams out as her legs begin shaking faster this time. “let it out baby, cum all over my fingers.” he tells her.

sydneys chest slows down as she lets out on his fingers. chris sticks his fingers in his mouth as he tastes her on his tongue. “oh fuck chris..” she breathes out as she catches her breath.

chris begins to take his pants off with his underwear as he lets his hard cock out his pants. “jesus..” she whispers to herself as she looks at it. how’s it gonna fit?

“don’t worry baby, you can take it,” chris tells her as he grabs the condom from his back pocket and putting it on. “why do you—“ sydney begins asking but gets off when she feels chris thrust into her.

“oh FUCK,” sydney moans out as her hands go to chris’s hair, tugging and pulling on it. his pace fastens as he leans down to place a kiss against her throat.

the room is filled with skin slapping noises as moans from both of them. “i’m so close baby..” chris whimpers out as his hands move to her throat as he thrusts harder into her.

sydney’s lips part as she’s a sweating, moaning mess. “gonna cum chris, gonna cum!” she moans out loudly as she realeses all over chris’s cock.

chris lets out not to late after her, pulling out and tieing the condom up. he throws it into a piece of toilet paper and puts it in the trash can next to them.

“that was—“ chris whispers out as he puts his full attention right back onto sydney. “yeah..” she replies back as she puts her clothes back on, not bothering to get cleaned up.

“don’t think this is the last time we’re doing that. i hope you know you’re mine. you’ve been mine syd,” chris says as he leans against her ear, placing a kiss behind it.

“trust me chris, i wouldn’t let it be,”

#𓈒𓏸 𖦹 ireland ⸝⸝ 🍍.ᐟ ׄ ׅ ྀ #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chrissturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nathan doe #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nate doe #nathan doe smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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freshloveee · 28 days ago

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how chris and cosmetology!reader meet

notes - a cute lil blurb !!

"okay monday it is" nick, matt, and chris has just purchased tickets to fly home to boston for a week. they had no work this week so they could finally relax. matt nodded slugishly in aggreement because nick woke him up to confirm the date. "i gotta' find a barber though mom's gonna flame me again." chris mumbled as he runs a hand through his hair. nick and matt started packing but chris stayed behind and texted his usual barber. of course, chris's barber was in mexico for vacation so he let out a dramatic ass sigh and scrolled on instagram to find a last minute barber. chris eventually stumbled across your page, and mesmerized was an understatement. all he could do now was pray you took male clients.

"dude, snap out of it what shirt should i bring?" matt's voice brought chris out of his trance. "oh..sorry but the red flannel that one's tough" matt nodded as he continued packing. chris dmed you and you had agreed to give him a trim. "nick c'mere" chris said as he made a gesture for nick to come over. nick rolled his eyes and pulled away from his suitcase as he leaned over to glance at his phone. "y'know this girl?" chris questioned. "mhm she does madison's makeup for music videos." nick explained. chris nodded and made a mental note as he continuted to stare at your most recent photo dump.

the next day he stepped into your salon with a soft smile. "oh hi your chris right?" your receptionist questioned sweetly. "mhm" he hummed. "okay you can go sit over there she's just gonna finish up real quick." she directed. "aight, thanks." he nodded as she softly smiled. 5 minutes later you walked in. "hi...hold on...i know your name." you let out a breathy giggle. "chris?" you asked as he beamed and smiled back at you. "okay i'm gonna wash your hair really quickly and then we can talk length and stuff over there." you instructed as he nodded and leaned back so you can have access to his hair.he was now sitting in the salon chair as you finished up cutting his hair. "okay how do we feel?" you said gently as he looked into the mirror.

"your a lifesaver...honestly" he praised. "okay i'll put some product in your hair and then i'll let you go." you said as you made your way over to the samples for your new hair product that was set to release in a couple months. you lathered the product onto your smooth hands and began running your fingers through his silky hair. "all done!" you smiled as you examined your work. you couldn't help but think damn hes hot. "all good?" you questioned softly. "yeah i'm good...thank you...really." a part of him wanted to say no so you could continue running your hands through his hair but he ignored the urge.

2 weeks later

Christopher Sturniolo: I'm going to Madison's MV shooting later. You gonna be there?

y/n l/n: you got it see you in an hour

a/n - this is SOOOO bad im sorry but first piece of writing for my babies !!

tags - @tyummyz @xoxo4chrisss @secretlocket

#madi's fics ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #cosmetology!reader x chris sturniolo ౨ৎ

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acapelladitty · 2 months ago

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When The Lights Go Out: Riddler

Summary: Richard Madison is a crook but a strange encounter with a man calling himself Edward Nygma may prove to be his undoing.

Part 1: When The Lights Go Out: Scarecrow

AO3 Link ☆ Fic Masterlist

The miraculous release of Walter Johnstone from his asylum incarceration was not the only odd thing to have occurred in Gotham that day. Nor would it be the last.

It was certainly a day that Richard Madison was never likely to forget.

If you asked the average person to describe Richard Madison they would have a host of phrases ready to spring forth in his praise. As sweet as sugar, one might claim. Honest as they come, another would cry. A good man with a good heart. However, there were those who saw another side to the man and those individuals would quietly lament his misdeeds and misgivings.

Both opinions are entirely valid to their holders, as all opinions are, however those who believed in him were only witness to the facade which he presented to the world.

To put it simply, Richard Madison was a crook.

Oh, how people loved being around Richard. They whispered promises in his ears, slipped offerings into his pockets, and overall doted on him in exchange for the opportunity to engage. To have their needs met.

And he was never a man to deny the people their needs.

When it suited him.

Emerging from the elevator to his private office, his shoulder clicked as he stretched his arms before him to prepare for the next few hours of sitting at his computer and running his small empire from the comfort of his favourite chair.

However, an unexpected sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

Standing in his office as though he belonged there, lounged a suited man. His body was on the thinner side and even from this distance Richard could tell that the bottle green suit, expertly styled as it cinched his frame, was cut from expensive cloth. Boyish features shone from a face which could not have been a day over forty and his appearance was made all the more striking by the shock of flame red hair which sat atop his head, mostly covered by a lurid green bowler hat which perfectly matched the shade of his suit.

“Richard Madison!” The man exclaimed in a showman voice, his excitement radiating from him in waves. “In the flesh! The man of the hour!”

Reaching out as he approached Richard’s stunned position, he gripped his hand in a firm grasp before shaking with an almost comedic level of effort. His arm swinging up and down in the grasp of the madman, Richard politely let go before hiding his hand within his pocket to prevent any further touching.

“Who are you?” Richard asked. This was his private office and absolutely no one got in here without first jumping through a series of hoops designed to keep out any 'undesirables'. “And what the hell are you doing here?” He allowed his shock to manifest as anger as he roared at the red-haired man.

“Lovely office,” throwing an arm out with great flourish, the man ignored the open aggression to gesture wildly around the room, “you must tell me who your decorator is.”

The stark minimalism of his office stared back at him as Richard's eyes swept the room. His room was boring, intentionally designed as such, so was he joking?

“Look, buddy, I don't thin-” cutting himself off, Richard clenched and unclenched his fist as he repeated his earlier question. “Who are hell are you?!”

“My name is Edward Nygma.” Flashing a smile, Edward dropped his head in a dramatic nod and allowed the green bowler hat to topple from his scalp and into his waiting hands before tucking it below his arm. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Madison. May I call you Richard?”

Now exposed, his red hair was perfectly coiffed into an old-fashioned style which felt very out of place in the modern office.

“I suppose.”

“What about Dick?”

Pursing his lips as his eyes narrowed, Richard was unable to tell if this man was mocking him or his earnest manner was genuine.

“I usually insist on Richard.”

“Then feel free to call me Edward.” Edward answered. “And to answer your earlier question, I am here to make you an offer which I know you will be unable to resist. We are both men of knowledge and money, so I know that you will want to hear what I have to say.”

“I’m not a trader.” Richard spat back, the surreal nature of this meeting making his aggression feel more performative that anything. “If you want me to invest in some shit you’re cooking up then go to Wall Street and pitch to the sons of bitches there.”

“Oh, I met the fools at Wall Street. Quite a long time ago.” Smirking as lips curled into a smile, Edward flashed his white teeth. “I gave them all the clues and all the opportunities to be honest men and they chose to ignore me. And then? Can you believe it? BANG!”

At this, Richard jumped in place as Edward smacked his hand against his thigh with some force.

“It all came crashing down. The Wall Street Crash, they called it. More than a few brains came to decorate the nearby paving after that, but they can't say they hadn't been warned. I gave them every chance.”

He's definitely mad, Richard thought. Edward did not look a day over forty and yet he had the gall to claim that he was present for the Wall Street collapse in the 30's?

“Talking like that will get you locked up in Arkham.” Richard warned.

“Oh no,” Edward exclaimed, “oh no, no, no! That would never do! I am far too intelligent for that and besides,” leaning in close as though divulging some information that only he was privy to, the green of Edward’s eyes twinkled madly for a moment, “an old friend has already made himself comfortable in those harrowed halls. It would be rude for me intrude on his delicate work.”

“You have connections in Arkham?” Such things were not unheard of and Richard himself had at least one guard on his payroll to ensure that the odd piece of information here and there fell into his hands. “Staff or guests?” He added.

“Staff today could be guests tomorrow and vice-versa. Let's not judge people based on their current position, particularly when that position is fragile at best. Fantastic things are afoot in Gotham right beneath your nose,” Edward insisted, “and my associates and I are here to see what she has to offer. So much filth and rot and chaos all wrapped in a pretty package of gothic architecture and urban landscaping.”

“Associates?”

“Oh, don't you worry, Richard. You are very unlikely to ever meet them as we tend to stick to our roles somewhat rigidly.”

“I need to make a phone call.” Richard interjected quickly. “Excuse me.”

Quickly retreating back to the doors of the elevator, Richard snatched his mobile from his suit pocket and quickly hit one of the numbers on his speed dial. This man, Edward, seemed to have decent connections and money to his name but he wanted to be sure before moving any further.

To his luck, his secretary picked up after only two rings.

“Hello, Richard Madison’s office. How may I direct your call?” Came a feminine droll from the other end of the line.

“Hey, Sam.” Relieved to hear a familiar voice, Richard continued. “Need you to run a quick background check for me.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Claims his name is 'Edward Nygma'. Never heard of him before but he looks like he has some decent coin behind him.”

“Okay. And where is he currently?”

“Standing inside my office.”

An audible hitch of breath.

“Okay, boss.”

Immediately on to business, Richard could hear the frantic tapping of her keyboard as she sought out the information he needed.

“The name is coming up here, boss.” As though reading from a script, Sam listed off her findings. “Edward Nygma. Business owner and entrepreneur. Apparently considered rather handsome. Worth…”

A pause.

“What?” Richard asked.

“Billions. Christ, he could put Wayne outta business. He’s absolutely loaded.”

“Billions! How have we not heard his name before?”

“He's a noted recluse. Very little personal details available here. All I can see is that his net worth is mind-blowing but the only thing he has name officially to is a production line of different types of toys.”

“Child toys?”

“Puzzle toys. For all ages and ranges.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not a lot to go on but it’s definitely there. Good source too. He's legit.”

Hanging up with a shaking finger, Richard could smell opportunity like a shark could blood. A noted recluse worth billions, right here in his office. He could take advantage of this in a way which he and all others had been unable to do so with Bruce Wayne; a man so wrapped up in his holier-than-thou attitude that he refused to engage in any business which would dirty his hands.

Richard hated him.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped his phone back into his pocket and started to move back towards Edward. He had not moved an inch since Richard had disappeared, but his attention was wholly focused on something which was clutched between his hands. As he approached, the flash of the brightly-coloured item in Edward's palm also drew Richard's attention and he squinted as though a sharp light had accosted him.

“What's in your hands?”

Rolling the offending object between his fingers with a practised ease, Edward brought it into the space between them.

“This?” He asked. “A curious little thing. I am very fond of puzzles and I haven't seen anything quite like this before.”

Recognising the piece, Richard squinted once again.

“A rubix's cube?” He asked, incredulous.

Who is their right mind had never seen a Rubix cube before?

“Rubix cube.” Edward repeated with a look of contemplation. “After the man who created it?”

“I guess.” Confused as to what exact relevance the puzzle held to the current discussion, Richard gestured vaguely with his hands. “I don't know what this has to do with-”

“Oh, of course! Of course!” Exclaiming loudly, Edward slapped a hand good-naturedly on his knee as he smiled. “Excuse my ramblings but you must forgive an old man his pleasures.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Watered down whisky doesn’t agree with me, Dick,” Edward declined. “And I would think a man like yourself would want to watch his health. The liver can be a tricky old thing, especially six years down the line.”

“So, what can I do for you, Mr. Nygma? I doubt this is a social call since we don’t, uh, know each other.”

“I have an opportunity which you would be a damned fool to pass up on. A new line of puzzle and magic toys, fabricated and distributed across Gotham and her sister cities.”

With Edward waving his hand around, Richard was able to catch a glimpse of his watch and found himself momentarily stunned by the beautiful timepiece and the various gemstones which were embedded within.

“Toys? Just toys? Surely we cou-”

“I have meetings today with others, including a meeting with a very interesting man named Wayne who seems to have taken a liking to my products,” Edward grinned.

Richard’s chest clenched with anger at the familiar name and he immediately backpeddled on his scepticism, “That won’t be necessary. I would love to enter into a business deal with you, Mr. Nygma. I hear you have quite the reputation.”

“I’m certain I do,” Edward replied, “and I would like to bring you onboard before I return to my other duties. $10 million would suffice as a minor investment, one which would see major returns.”

Wincing at the amount but desperate to keep the vaguely gullible and eccentric billionaire within his grasp, greed already blinding his thoughts as he imagines various ways of involving the fool with his less pleasant ventures, Richard nodded at the proposed amount.

The conversation flowed smoothly after that, discussions of timescales and proposed returns forcing Richard into the belief that he was making a smart choice. His mind focused despite the whirling nature of Edward’s demeanour; Richard felt the thrill of his greed thrumming in his veins as he catered to his latest potential cash cow.

“So, do we have a deal, Dick?”

Extending his hand with a showman smile, Edward allowed it to hang in the air between them with a sense of finality.

Willing to ignore the nickname this one time, Richard nodded once more and accepted the handshake before dropping his hand to his inner pocket. Mobile phone in hand, it took Richard less than five minutes to have the investment money wired over to Edward’s accounts – ensuring that he retained a firm copy of all Edward’s account details should anything go awry with their deal.

“This account is one of my more selective accounts and I would appreciate its use being kept on the quieter side of things. I am sure you understand,” Richard muttered with a put-on smile.

“Of course, of course! My lips are sealed.” Edward winked, placing his bowler hat atop his head with a dramatic flourish. “A silent account for a silent partner.”

His smirk actually blossoming into a genuine smile, Richard took the initiative to end their meeting.

“A pleasure, Mr Nygma. I hope to work with you again.”

Tilting his head with a wicked smirk of his own, Edward answered in kind.

“I’m sure you’ll think of our partnership often.”

x-x-x-x-x

Stepping into the familiar office of Salvatore Maroni, Richard inclined his head to the goons who remained on guard as he joined both the owner of the office and their mutual friend, Daniel Mockingbird, by taking a seat on the only available chair.

“Evening, boys. Pour me a decent one, eh, Sal?” Richard asked, inclining his empty whisky glass to Maroni. A glass which was quickly filled with amber liquid as the man in question poured him a healthy slosh of scotch.

“You’re chipy as fuck today, Richard. Balls finally drop?” Mockingbird cut in, his thick Italian accent glossing over the words with ease.

“Funny,” Richard deadpanned as he sank a gulp of the scotch, “but anyway, how has your week been gentlemen?”

“Great, I got me a new business partner and I think he’s going to be one for the books, boys,” sipping from his own glass, Maroni appeared pleased with himself as he divulged his luck to the other two.

Surprised, given his own unmade announcement, Richard inclined his hand to Maroni as he indicated for him to continue.

“Yeah, some fucking freak. Came here to ask me to partner on an investment deal for some shitty kids toys and-”

“Bullshit!” Mockingbird called out, surprising both men at the outburst. “You met with Nygma too?”

Open shock playing on his face as he watched the two speak, Richard dropped his hands to his lap as his head darted between the two like a tennis match.

“Yeah. Showed up here asking for $10 million.” Maroni confirmed.

“Fuck! Same from me.”

“Same, huh? For the toy business?”

“Yeah, for the fucking toy business. He didn’t say nothing about having other partners.” Running a hand through his slickened hair, Mockingbird was clearly unimpressed with the fact that his great deal had not been as exclusive as he thought. “Jesus Christ man, $20 million from us both. Sneaky fuc-”

“$30 million,” Richard intercut with a frown. “I also received a visitor yesterday.”

Genuinely speechless, all three men grumbled their discontent into their glasses as they observed the others with open suspicion. Their friendship was tenuous, agreements always being settled under the table to ensure that the dirt they could hold over each other was limited, and an event like this would only breed discontent.

Unable to muse for too long as his phone started vibrating madly in his pocket, Richard pulled it free with a gruff greeting as he pressed it against his ear.

“Mr. Madison, we have a problem.”

Sam. Sounding thoroughly distraught as her voice stuttered across the words.

“What is it?” Richard asked, a sinking feeling dropping his chest into his stomach.

“It’s gone, Sir. Everything. All the money from the secret account.”

His heart stuttering at the information, Richard barely noticed when both Maroni and Mockingbird picked up their own ringing mobiles.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s gone?”

“The account is empty, Sir. The $10 million transferred through to the Nygma account but the rest has disappeared. It’s gone, Sir.”

“No, no-NO!” Richard snapped, snarling his words down the phone. “You find me that money, Sam. Find it and get it back. Hunt down that fuck Nygma if you need to because I think he has something to do with it.”

Slamming his phone shut, his heart pounding in his ears as his blood pressure reached new levels, Richard zoned back into his companions to find that all hell had broken loose across both men. Maroni’s face was a stunning shade of puce as he screamed insults into his mobile while Mockingbird was speaking in Italian at record speed, his expression equally as angry.

Allowing both men the time to finish their phone calls as they went through a similar disbelieving anger to himself, Richard understood without a doubt that they had all been swindled in a similar fashion.

“What the fuck is happening?” Mockingbird hissed, throwing his glass to the floor as the scotch splashed across the carpet. “One of my private accounts has been tanked! Gutted! Fucking robbed!”

Maroni pulled his lips back into a snarl, “Same here! Fuck! The account I used yesterday. That sneaky fuck Nygma is behind this and I’m going to find him, boys.”

“Pull our resources! I’m going to kill that red-haired fuck.” Richard added with a roar.

“Red hair?” Mockingbird face was confused despite the rage, “You mean black hair? Short little fucker too, only about 5ft? Weasley as fuck.”

“What?” Squinting, Richard shook his head. “No. He was wiry with red hair, probably about my height and thin as an addicts piss. Sal?”

His voice so low that both men struggled to pick up on his exact words, Maroni growled his own description.

“Brown hair. Slicked back. Slight build on him. Had a stupid cane with him. I even got the bastard on record.”

Snatching out a voice recorder from a nearby desk drawer, Maroni fiddled with it before clicking play on the recorder as all three men stared at it with narrowed eyes.

“-an excellent choice, Mr Maroni! I admire your taste in being able to pick up on a good deal when it comes your way. So, let’s get down to business and I can be on my way. Shall we say around $10 million as an investment? With that I cou-”

His heart racing at the familiar voice, Richard saw a similar look of rage on Mockingbirds’ face as he listened to the recording.

“That’s him!” Mockingbird grunted, his fists clenched against his lap. “That’s the smart-mouthed cunt.”

“How the fuck can that be the same man we all met?” Richard asked reasonably, rage giving way to confusion. “Sure, he could wear a wig or change his clothes, but his height? He wasn’t a fucking magician. This shouldn’t be a fucking riddle. How much did he take from you?”

Directing the question to both men, the grave looks he received in response no doubt mirrored his own. If their loss was as great as his own then they were looking at an easy collective loss of over a hundred million. A hundred million dollars, gone in a puff of smoke.

All dirty.

All untraceable.

As it was designed to be.

It was a perfect theft.

“Play the bastards voice again, Sal.” Mockingbird hissed. “I want it committed to memory so I can remember to have his tongue ripped out when we catch the prick.”

Thick fingers pressing the play button of the audio recorder, Maroni startled in place as the casual conversation which had previously been loaded on the device was replaced by a loud, cackling laughter – the rising cacophony of Edward’s mirth making all three men shiver in place as something dark curled around the joyful sound and rattled them to their cores.

Richard Madison was a crook, but he was no fool, and, as Mockingbird fixed himself with the sign of the cross, Richard could not shake the furious anxiety which seared in his chest as he realised that something evil had held counsel with him in his office yesterday and that his money was gone somewhere he did not dare to follow.

#i dont normally ask but please read this and lemme know what ye think! I know its not smutty or shippy but a lot of love has went into this #riddler #edward nygma #edward nashton #writing #dc comics #edward nigma #gotham rogues #the riddler #riddler fic

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wildrangers · 5 months ago

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I Wish You Would // William Nylander

Tropes & Topics: childhood friends to enemies to lovers, resolved angst, poor communication, angst

Word Count: 4K

{This is my submission for @typical-simplelove for The Summer Fic Exchange 2k24, organized by the amazing @wyattjohnston!)

Will checked the time on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time this morning. He knew there were hours left to go before you and your family arrived but his nerves were forcing him to watch time too closely. He’d seen your parents and brother, Ryan, numerous times over the years. You, however, he hadn’t seen or spoken to in over a decade.

As kids, you two had been thick as thieves for the few years both of your dads played together on the Rangers. But a lot had changed since then, most of which his foolish teenage self had put into motion. Still, as Will realized how close he was to seeing you again, his heart skipped a beat while dread dropped his stomach.

Will was beyond excited for his first family skate at Madison Square Garden. He’d gone to a few games already but actually being on the ice? He was jumping out of his skin with excitement, much to his mother’s annoyance and father’s amusement.

When his skates finally hit the ice, he slowly circled the rink, eyes wide as he took in the arena surrounding him. He was so engrossed he nearly collided with you, quickly grabbing your arms to steady you, you doing the same to him.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he asked, worried he’d get in trouble.

“Yeah, are you?” you replied and he nodded, quickly removing his hands from your shoulders.

“I’m Y/N, who are you? You’re new.”

“Willy.”

“That’s a silly name” you giggled and his cheeks flamed hot.

“It is not!” he replied, frowning deeply. You simply shrugged, seemingly letting it drop.

“Do you want to race?” you asked and he nodded, counting down only for you to jump the gun and leave on 2.

“Hey!” he shouted, annoyed, but couldn’t fight his smile at the peal of your laughter ahead of him. He quickly was catching up, convinced he’d easily lap you as the distance closed between you. Just as he was about to reach you, your legs pumped even faster somehow and you crossed the imaginary finish line, fists pumping in victory. “That doesn’t count, you cheated!”

“If you’re embarrassed to lose to a girl, you shouldn’t have raced me.”

“That’s not it, my sisters beat me in races all the time. It’s the cheating that makes it not count.”

You stared him down as you caught your breath and then finally nodded. “Redo?”

“Redo.”

***

“If you sigh one more time, I’m going to push you out of this car” your brother threatened and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.”

“You know how important this is to mom” he argued and you pointedly sigh again, making him groan in annoyance.

“I know, which is why I’m here.” A long comfortable silence fell, each to your own thoughts.

“What even happened with you and Will?” he questioned quietly. When you didn’t answer he pushed on, “You never told any of us.”

“Some things aren’t worth revisiting, Ryan.”

***

You were bouncing out of your seat in excitement as your family’s rental car rolled up the final hill before reaching the Nylander house. “Can you calm down?” Ryan groaned but you ignored him.

Willy and you had grown close during the two years your dads played for the Rangers together. You were both fiercely competitive and obsessed with hockey which easily forged a strong bond. Willy’s dad had re-signed elsewhere during the last off-season though so you hadn’t seen him since early fall when his new team had come to the Garden. You and Will had made the most of the quick visit, skating at Central Park and eating with your families at your favorite restaurants. You hadn’t realized how much you relied on his friendship until it was gone, so you’d been looking forward to this trip to Sweden for half the season.

“Oh there it is!” you cheered and were out of the car as soon as it was parked, despite your mom yelling to be more careful. You quickly greeted his parents and sisters as they ushered you into the house.

“Will and Alex are out back with a couple friends, we’ll come out with dinner soon” his mom informed you, sending you eagerly sprinting out the sliding glass doors.

You quickly spotted the two blonde brothers alongside a couple of boys you didn’t know. “Hey guys!” you called and Alex greeted you with a wave and a smile. You were a little confused when Will just nodded at you without coming closer; you were used to hugging your hello’s.

You much more slowly approached the group and were grateful when Alex opened his arms for a hug. You naturally moved to grip Willy next but he didn’t return the hug, causing you to frown at him.

“You okay?”

Yeah, I’m great, we’re just in the middle of a game. We’ll see you at dinner, yeah?” Will said, turning his back and kicking the soccer ball at his feet.

You flinched at his coldness and Alex sent you a sympathetic frown before you turned and went inside. What changed? You knew you two weren’t chatting as much but you didn’t realize something was wrong. You feigned exhaustion from your trip and laid down in your guest bed, declining to go down for dinner.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” your mom asked, gently laying a plate on your bed and placing her hand to your forehead.

“Yeah, I just think the travel caught up to me.”

“Will you be up for a skate after dinner? They wanted to show us their local rink.”

“Sure, yeah, I think so” you nodded, eager to have the common ground of hockey with Will again.

As you joined the Nylanders for the drive, Alex talked your ear off but Will was distant, eyes firmly focused out the window. When you all were in the rink, skates tied tightly and beginning to warm up, you reapproached Will, easily matching his pace. “Are you mad at me or something?” you asked quietly, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop.

“No, I’m not,” he said but didn’t say anything else.

“You’re acting weird, I don’t understand” you pushed, angry at the tears forming behind your eyes and clogging your throat.

“We’re teenagers now, I don’t want to be hanging around a girl as a friend. It doesn’t make sense.”

You tried to process his words but came up blank, “Will, of course we can still be friends.” You noted his flushed face and couldn’t fathom why he was avoiding you and trying to end your friendship just because you were both 13 now. You said the only thing you could think of: “Can we just race?”

“Will you leave me alone if I do?” he spat back and you shoved him, not quite playfully, with your shoulder.

“Only if you win” you goaded and he counted down from 3 before you two were off. You’d been working hard on your skating and were pleased to find yourself in the lead. You didn’t have much size on you yet so to stay on your team’s roster, speed and skill were critical.

As you rounded the final corner with Will close on your heels, you heard him huff in frustration before making himself even with you. You focused, pumping your legs faster, when suddenly Willy veered dangerously close to you. Without thinking, you cut away but lost your edge, flying into the boards shoulder fist.

“Crap, are you okay?” he asked, breathless.

“You did that on purpose you asshole!” you shrieked, quickly getting back on your feet.

“Y/N, language!” your father chastised.

“He did! You were going to lose and you went to trip me” you glared fiercely at him and he didn’t argue your point. The tense silence stretched between you and your families before Willy finally raised his eyes to meet yours. “You’re pathetic, William” you spat, quickly leaving the ice, Ryan close behind.

***

As you stepped out of your rental, Will felt like he was staring at a ghost. As kids, you’d always been cute but you were stunning now. He wasn’t surprised; he recalled with embarrassment how flustered he’d felt during your first trip to Sweden. He understood now he’d had a crush on you but at the time, he just didn’t like these new uncomfortable feelings or how his friends had teased him about having a friend for a girl who wasn’t a girlfriend.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he startled slightly when you were suddenly directly before him. “Sorry, wasn’t trying to spook you there” you said blandly, eyes cold. “Wouldn’t want you to trip and hurt yourself.”

He ignored the pointed reference to his previously embarrassing actions replying, “How was your flight?”

“It was fine, thanks” you replied, offering a smile that didn’t remotely reach your eyes. “How was your season? What year is it now in the big leagues?”

Shame flooded his system as your words pulled another memory to mind, the last time he’d seen you before being cut completely from your life.

***

It was the final night of your family’s annual trip to Sweden. He hated these visits. They reminded him of how close you’d been and how much he’d blown your friendship up. But he didn’t know how to fix it so he kept his distance, ignoring your brother’s constant glares as you grew closer to Alex and his sisters. Since the girls were younger than you, they were absolutely obsessed, clinging to every word you said and subtly copying your mannerisms. He’d have found it endearing if it didn’t mean he’d have constant reminders of you long after you’d left the country.

Somehow, you two ended up next to one another at the restaurant but you were dutifully ignoring each other. The girls got sleepy before dessert though so Alex offered to drive them home so your parents could enjoy the visit longer; this left you, Ryan, and him on one side of the table, deathly quiet in comparison to the uproarious conversation your parents were having. Ryan excused himself to go to the restroom and Will couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“So, what are your plans once you’re back home?”

“I leave for UConn in a few weeks.”

Another torturous silence descended and he filled it without thinking, “I have the draft in a couple weeks. Though that’s nothing compared to getting ready for D1 hockey” he smiled but the painful look that crossed your face stopped him in his tracks. “Hey, I didn’t mean–”

“Didn’t mean to what, William? Belittle me getting into one of the best women hockey programs in the country? Tease me since you know I’ll never be able to make an actual living as a pro?”

“No, that’s not what I–”

“You don’t think I realized a long time ago that you won our competitions just by being a dude?” you retorted, voice quiet but filled with pain and fury as he saw tears forming in your eyes.

“I’ve never thought of it that way, I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“The mood that you’ve left us in for years now because of your childishness? Your pettiness? Well, don’t worry, you won’t have to think about dealing with me any longer.”

“Y/N/N, wait” you begged, hand reaching for yours instinctively. You ripped it away, anger and sadness all over your face–pain that he’d inadvertently put there again. The entire table fell silent.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore, William” you spat, stalking towards your brother who’d just emerged from the bathroom. “Take me home, Ry.”

***

And that had been the last time he’d ever seen you for over a decade now. He’d look at your social media occasionally before you’d privated it several years back but you’d fully shut him out that fateful evening despite remaining in contact with the rest of his family. You’d also steadfastly refused to do the family trips and while both sides were curious about what had occurred, neither of you had given details. Will’s silence on the matter was born from embarrassment; he never knew why you didn’t just throw him under the bus–he deserved it.

The dinner that evening passed smoothly, you choosing your seat as far from Will as possible. He was relieved to see your shoulders loosen and your smile grow more genuine as the evening progressed, your armor against him not keeping you from the rest of your childhood friends.

That night, he was tossing and turning as each key moment replayed painfully in his mind. He sighed, finally rising from bed around 1AM to go outside and get some fresh air. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, curled up in a blanket, eyes focused on the dying fire before you. He tried to turn back around but bumped into the grill, causing a terrible metal ringing sound to pierce the quiet night.

He glanced your way to find your eyes firmly on him. “Were you trying to sneak away?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say sneak, I just didn’t want to bother you” he replied, cheeks warming.

“It's your house, William.”

“Yeah but you’re the guest” he argued and you shrugged. You two held eye contact for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I join you?”

Your only response was to slide over on the couch, making plenty of room for him to sit beside you. A silence descended but Will refused to not take this chance to fix what he could. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. For all the shit I pulled when we were kids. And I’m sorry I never apologized before now, I just didn't want to make things worse.”

You snorted, “How could things have gotten worse?”

He thought it over, “I guess I meant I didn’t want to hurt you more.”

You finally looked at him again and he withstood your sharp eyes assessing him and his words. “Did you mean to trip me?”

“No, never” he swore, turning to face you fully. “I wanted to spook you to win, which was dirty, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

You nodded and a brief smile crossed your mouth, “It seems silly now, we were so young.”

“Yeah but we both know it wasn’t the tripping that sealed the deal” he admitted quietly. “That was a shitty thing to say and I knew better.”

“You didn’t though” you argued and he frowned. “We weren’t adults yet, Will. You felt awkward and tried to tease me like you had when we were kids because you didn’t know what else to do. You didn’t know you were salting an open wound.”

“You did amazing at UConn” he offered and was met with a genuine smile.

“You watched?”

“All the time” he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, Will. You were important to me as a kid and those feelings never went away, there was just so much confusion and pain on top of them. I was over the moon when you got drafted to Toronto. I started and deleted like dozens of congratulations texts” you admitted and he grinned.

“Thanks, Y/N/N” he said without thinking. “Shit, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine Willy” you said sincerely, and he froze in place as you shifted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He tentatively wrapped an arm around you and you burrowed in deeper. It felt so right to have you this close to him again.

After a comfortable silence, he felt you yawn beside him and he gently pinched your arm. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

He felt you nod against him before moving away to stretch your arms; he followed the movement, taken by how graceful you still were all these years later.

“Can we have a fresh start?” he requested. “I’ve missed you.”

“Fresh start” you agreed, offering your hand, which he eagerly took in his own to shake firmly. His heart stuttered when you didn’t remove it from his grasp so he gently helped you up. Hope flooded his system as your hands remained intertwined as he escorted you to your room.

At your door, you pulled him into a tight embrace. “Want to get coffee and breakfast tomorrow? Just us two?” you asked and he nodded eagerly before releasing you.

“It’s a date.”

***

You slept much better than expected and woke the next morning feeling rested and relieved. You were glad Will had found you the night before and hopeful the rift could be mended.

He’d hurt you as a kid, there was no denying that. But as time passed, you realized that he never had ill intentions. And part of what you’d loved about him as a kid was how silly and impulsive he’d been–you just hadn’t anticipated how those same traits could cause such unintentional damage.

As you finished fixing your hair you heard a knock on the door, “Come in!”

Will poked his head in, “Ready to go? You look wonderful.”

You preened at his praise, surprised and a little embarrassed that your long ago crush seemed to have not shrunk over your many years apart.

At the coffee shop, you were shocked when we remembered all your favorite Swedish pastries as he ordered for the table. You’d been too young when you’d last been together for him to know your coffee order though so you gave that yourself.

“Thanks, Will, I appreciate it” you grinned once you two were settled with your treats.

“I’m happy to” he smiled at you and it caused your heart to stutter slightly. He sat before you a grown man but his smile hadn’t lost its boyishness. “So, how’s life been? Your parents share the basics sometimes but I don’t really know much else.”

You reflected on the last decade, debating what was worth mentioning. “Well, I graduated from UConn with my physical therapy and business double majors.”

“And two championships” he added and you laughed, shaking your head.

“I still can’t believe you kept tabs on my hockey like that,” you admitted.

“It was the least I could do. I always knew you were an amazing player and getting to see it play out on TV was cool, though I wish I could have been there for some of the bigger moments.”

His admission brought tears to your eyes but you quickly blinked them away as you cleared your throat. “Thanks, Willy. I wish you’d been there too, I’ve missed you.”

He smiled sadly at your words, “And now?”

Your anxiety spiked, dreading having to share this information. “I bounced around doing hockey PT at a few different colleges in the US before I joined the University of Toronto training staff about five years ago.”

Silence filled the space and you forced yourself to finally meet his gaze. Pain was in his eyes but you could see he was trying to hide it.

“That’s amazing, congratulations” he offered and you nodded your thanks. “How did I not know we’ve been in the same city all these years?”

“It’s a big city.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

You sighed, nodding your agreement, “I asked everyone not to mention it to you. You were busy, I was busy, and at that point five years had passed, we weren’t friends anymore. I didn’t want to pick the scab. Plus, what would you have done if you’d known?”

“I’d have reached out as soon as I knew you were there. I just never wanted to do it over the phone but if I knew you were in Toronto? I would’ve apologized even if you never forgave me.”

His sincerity clogged your throat with emotions, “I’m sorry, I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you knowing I was there and not caring enough to reach out. To have it confirmed that our lives had separated too much to repair the gap. I mean, you play for the Leafs now, and I’m just…me.”

“Hey” he said sternly, pulling your eyes back to his face. He reached for your hand and you gladly let him run soothing circles on your palm. “You’re you, Y/N/N. Not just you. I would never have even thought to think of it the way you just did.”

“Was that a sentence?” you teased and he threw his head back in laughter and it filled you with joy; you’d forgotten what a marvelous sound it was to experience, to cause.

“I never claimed to be brilliant, okay?” he responded and you giggled, squeezing his hand. “When we’re both back in the city, can we please meet up? I’d love to have you at a game or just to meet my friends. That place is home now.”

You nodded, “I’d love that…and it is for me too. This season, I’m actually doing my first year as an assistant coach.”

“Tell me everything, that’s amazing!”

And you did, words flowing easily between you now. You were both relieved and shocked that your connection, forged so many years ago and ignored for even longer, healed so quickly, so effortlessly. You’d forgotten how charming he is, how at ease he makes you feel, how much he always encouraged you.

Before you knew it, your phone was ringing because it was well past lunch and Ryan was worried they couldn’t find you.

“Should we head back? I know the big welcome bash is tonight.”

“Want to grab some lunch, just us first?” Will asked and you nodded eagerly, texting your brother the update before following Willy to one of his favorite spots.

***

That night, the Nylander estate was flooded with extended family and friends. There was amazing food, plenty of booze, and music played long into the night.

“Well, now that you two are all good, can you please tell me what happened?” Ryan pushed and you shoved him with your shoulders.

“No, it makes even less sense now. It was stupid and it’s done, alright?”

“Fine, fine” he sighed dramatically and you rolled your eyes. “I’m glad you came, sis.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now” you teased and he chuckled. You heard your name called from the dance floor and you laughed at Will’s sisters motioning for you to join them.

You easily waded into the crowd, losing yourself in the music and enjoying some of your best friends’ company–these girls were like little sisters to you. Before long, Will and Alex had joined and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but you suddenly realized how closely you were dancing with Willy.

“You look beautiful” he said directly into your ear, wanting to make sure you heard him over the music but that no one else could.

“Thanks” you replied, feeling shy, as you ducked your head. The strand of hair that consequently fell in your face was gently brushed aside by Will’s gentle, calloused fingers. Your eyes rose to meet his as he tucked your hair behind your ears.

His gaze was intense and you could barely breathe when his palm cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone so slowly it caused goosebumps to rise to your skin. Despite the music pounding from the speakers and the dancing bodies around you, you two stood, unmoving, staring into each other’s eyes. Your gaze dipped down to his mouth, silently begging for him to close the gap and kiss you.

A second later he did, the two of you meeting in the middle as all the tension, good and bad, was released. His lips were soft and your mouths moved together in perfect synchronicity, your movements slow as you two explored each other for the first time. When he tilted your head to get better access, you released a soft sigh that he hungrily devoured, his hands curling tighter into your hair. Your own hands settled on his chest and you allowed yourself to get lost in him, his scent surrounding you, his touch both soothing and exciting, your tongues twining harmoniously.

The spell was broken by loud whoops and cheers from nearby and you two lurched apart, breathing heavily. Embarrassment flooded your system as you saw both sets of parents and siblings clapping and cheering you two on.

“Only took a decade and a half, you goofs!” Alex called.

“If you hurt her again you’re dead!” Ryan added.

“Guys!” you both chastised at the same time before erupting into giggles, you happily hiding your face in his chest.

Another installment of 'Taylor's incapable of writing a short fic.' I hope y'all enjoyed, especially Claudia 🫶🏻

#william nylander #william nylander fic #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #william nylander blurb #nhl fic #nhl blurb #toronto maple leafs imagine #The Summer Fic Exchange 2k24

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girlmostlikely · 6 months ago

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Madison Beer is too beautiful to have a career and it’s sad because she’s a talented singer and songwriter. She deserves more acclaim yet her beauty alienates and threatens her demographic and outshines her capacity as an artist. She’s getting the same treatment her twin flame Megan Fox received. Also if she stopped associating with lowly influencers she might be taken more seriously but what do I know.

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mermaidgirl30 · 5 months ago

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✨Somersaults and Stealing Hearts Part 2: Watch Me✨

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast! OFC

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to the lovely @alltheirdamn for beta reading and screaming about them with me 🥰

Summary: While all the other girls gush over Coach Miller, Madison can’t stand him. And when her turn comes on the vault, she gets a little carried away.

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: 18+ only

Tags: Lots of banter, arguing to flirting, dual POV

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day is barely tolerable as I stand with my arms crossed firmly against my chest, my right hip cocked out to the side. I let the cool breeze from the vents take the bitter sting away that rushes like a raging waterfall through my sore joints.

The slick purple leotard clings to my tanned, burning skin, and my tight blonde ponytail feels like it’s creating an incurable migraine at the back of my skull. I roll my eyes with every insufferable breath Joel breathes, not even caring if he sees how his droning voice affects my sour mood.

He’s not my coach. He will never be my coach.

“Listen up, girls,” Joel yells across the room, standing in the middle of the blue mat with a clipboard in one hand and a black ink pen in the other. “I’m gonna have each of you go through your uneven bar and vault routines. We have a lot of cover to ground before regionals, and it’s not that far off.”

Unbelievable. If he really knew me, he’d know those were my two strongest routines. It’s my floor and balance beam routine that’ve been kicking my ass lately, and I just can’t stick my landings like I need to to qualify for nationals. And the double back salto? Well, that’s another beast entirely that I can’t quite grasp. Coach Carr would know that, but she apparently didn’t include Joel in that conversation.

Go fucking figure.

How the fuck am I supposed to make it without her by my side?

Katelyn raises her hand and practically whips it around with no control.

Eager much?

“Coach Miller, can I go first? I’d love your help with my dismount.” She bats her long lashes, her icy blue eyes practically shining like stars in the night sky, and it makes me want to vomit.

“Sure thing, Katelyn. Jus’ head on over to the vault. I’ll be right there,” he assures her, tucking his plastic clipboard under his arm.

When he turns to head to the back of the room where the long runway and vault lay, I watch the way his broad shoulders flex against the black t-shirt, and I feel sick when he pushes his long fingers through his tousled curls. It irks me that he’s allowed to look that good. Even more so, flames radiate through my chest just thinking that this is his team now.

Nuh-uh. I won’t allow it. This isn’t his team. And I’ll make damn sure of it.

Coach Carr may have asked me to be nice, but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.

Katelyn shines her perfect smile and poses, saluting that she’s about to begin her routine. Joel nods from the corner of the room, standing a few feet from the vault, eyes locked while he waits and watches with bated breath. She wastes no time and takes off, feet striking the mat and running like her life depends on it.

I watch the way Joel carefully assesses her movements, ready to move at a moment’s notice if she falls. And I don’t know why, but it annoys the hell out of me. Probably because Katelyn is used to getting what she wants, and she wants Joel. She can have him for all I care. I don’t even want him here.

Katelyn completes her handspring double front and nearly eats the blue mat beneath her. Joel quickly steps in and catches her before her body crashes down, and I know she did it on purpose. She’s never messed up that move before. She’s putting on a fake show, and Joel’s her shiny new doll to mess around with.

“Whoa, slow it down there. You overturned your twist. Try to focus on your body mechanics next time. You’ll get it,” he encourages with a light pat to her shoulder.

“Thanks for catching me, Coach. I’ll try again.” She turns away sweetly, walking all the way back to the end of the seafoam floor, swaying her curvy hips and flashing the sparkly sequins on her peach leotard.

“Oops, did I get a little too excited with that flip? Maybe I should do it again just so he’ll catch me.” She flips her highlighted hair and pushes past me, smacking straight into the side of my shoulder with enough force that it makes my stance unsteady.

Narrowing my eyes, I scowl at her and feel hot lava rising in every joint of my boiling body. I keep my mouth shut tight but only because she’s trying to get a rise out of me. And there’s no fucking way I’m getting heated over a bitch trying to steal a man I couldn’t be less interested in. She can have him. I just wish she'd leave me the hell alone.

Before I make any rash decisions and decide to turn and smack her straight across her lip gloss coated mouth, Cassie pulls me back to reality and gives me a concerned look. “Don’t mind her. You know she’s only jealous because Coach Miller took notice of you yesterday.”

I sigh and try to relax, uncrossing my arms and easing my mind of any unnecessary distractions. I’m here to practice, not to be involved in some petty drama I want no part in. “Yeah, you’re right. I just wish she’d stop, you know?”

“I know what you mean, but a bitch is a bitch no matter what. So just focus on the task at hand. You’re better than her at everything; that’s never going to change. Just do you, boo,” she smiles, giving me a friendly bump against the hip while her emerald eyes flash over mine.

“Thanks for doing this with me, Cas. I couldn’t do it alone,” I smile gently, squeezing her hand in mine as I silently thank her again for being an anchor in the cesspool of snakes.

“Always got your back, babe,” she finishes.

The rest of the squad finishes their turns and return to the navy blue colored spring floor, stretching and watching who’s left to do their routines. Suddenly, I realize I’m the last of the girls, and it’s now my turn to go. Picking my head up and gazing all the way down to the end of the mat lights my nerves on fire. Joel is staring at me, large hands on his hips, chocolate-covered eyes scorching mine even from feet away. It feels like a giant spotlight is shining down on me, signaling to act, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed in time, and I want to run far far away from those deep brown eyes.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy. Show me what you got.” His deep voice echoes through the large room, booming through my eardrums like a loud bass, and I want to rip the noise from my rushing ears. His curled smirk and playful eyes make my skin boil and my toes tingle like I’m standing on sharp wires. I puff out a cloud of invisible smoke and clench my hands into tight fists.

He thinks I’m shy? That’s cute. I’m not the least bit shy. No. I’m a fierce tiger, and I’ll rip my sharp claws straight through that ridiculous smirk.

He gives me a teasing smile, and that does it. I snap. Sprinting as fast as I can down the solid floor, I throw all my raging emotions into my swift movements, letting my stinging feet barely hit the mat, blurring the whispering girls on the mat, only focusing on the vault in front of me.

Throwing my whole body into the roundoff back handspring, my feet catch the springboard for just a second and then I’m flipping defiantly over the smooth edges of the vault table. I chose the Amanar twist, the harder of my moves, wanting to show Joel just who the best is around here.

The air whips across my face, my body humming with every second I’m in the air, completing two-and-a-half twists as if this is as easy as walking a straight line on the balance beam. I stick the landing perfectly and salute, my arms stiff and graceful like I just wowed the judges. My hazel eyes slightly narrow when I see his doe eyes widen just a smidge, his mouth parted and a sickening smile curled up across his plush mouth like he’s in awe. I should smile back, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

A low whistle leaves his lips and he applauds slowly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Nearly flawless, Shining Star.” I hear the snickering and whispers come from behind, but I block them out. The only thing I’m focused on is making Joel’s life a living hell.

I drop my stiff stance and cross my arms over my shimmery leotard. “I can go harder than that,” I challenge.

Joel’s eyebrows raise in attention, and his tongue slowly slides over his bottom lip like he’s closely assessing my movements. “Oh? You think you can land a triple twist?” The way his warm eyes stare into mine makes a hot fire light in my chest, and that fire is pure rage.

“I know I can.” I pop my hip out and slit my eyes into thin slots, letting him know I’m not playing games. But he wants to play. Oh, yes. He’s intrigued now. A devilish smirk widens over his mouth and his darkening eyes look like they could eat me alive.

Look what you fucking did.

“Yes,” I snarl out.

“That’s a pretty risky move there, sweetheart. You sure you can handle it?” He’s toying with me, edging me on to get under my skin, but it’s too late. He’s already there, prodding at my stings like a damn nuisance.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I spit with venom shooting across the room, hoping it’ll silence Joel’s taunting words.

So, he’s learned I like to play games. Well, I can play them better.

“You never heard of Southern hospitality, darlin’?” He accentuates the word darlin’, and the widest smirk I’ve ever seen in my life rests on his tanned face. One hand slowly rakes down his patchy scruff, and his eyes sharpen into mine. It makes me nearly stomp my heel into the gym mat to show how extremely irritating and impossible he’s being.

Sweetheart? Darlin’? Just what the hell is he trying to prove? That he’s charming? He wishes.

“Just stop with the Texas nicknames. I get it. You think you’re slick, but you’re not. And for your information, I can handle anything,” I snap, folding my arms back over my chest to show how much he’s driving my patience.

“Alright then. Show me,” he demands, flexing his thick arms tighter against the black material of his shirt, his eyes lit with playful fire. “Let me see you land a triple, and maybe I won’t make you repeat it a third time.”

I flare my nostrils and storm off, mouthing curse words under my breath like that’ll do any good. I forget that my teammates are gawking and staring at me like I just screamed blasphemy inside a holy temple. I ignore the bite of their stares and carry on. It’s just me and Joel right now for all I can see, and I need to teach him just who he’s dealing with.

My body hums with electricity, lightning guiding my every movement. Maybe I overestimated by trying to outsmart him, but there’s no backing out now. I’ve made my bed; now I have to sleep in it.

Joel’s wide smile flashes under the harsh lights, and his deep brown eyes that antagonize me have me ready to blow steam out of my ears. I decide right then that I hate him and his stupid tousled curls.

Why did Coach Carr leave me with him?

Putting my body into full drive mode, I crash like thunder down the mat, running as if I’m getting chased by a stampede of wildebeests. My body flips through the air, the back handspring pushing my muscles into overdrive, and then I jump. Hard.

I hold my breath like I’m underwater, body limbs curling and twisting in the air, and I focus on those three simple rotations I need. I start the count and then my vision blurs, closing my eyes so I can feel the intricate movements cycle through me. Still holding my breath, I count and pray that it’s enough.

One, two, three. My feet land shakily on the slippery mat, my head reeling at the intense motions, but I land it, fortunately.

Holy shit. I did it!

His jaw drops open, and I hear him mutter a curse under his breath, clearly impressed that I was telling the truth.

I flash him a generous smile and end it with a slight scowl. “Look at that, Coach,” I stammer, imitating his Texas drawl from earlier. “I landed a triple.”

He shakes his tousled curls and nods his head in disbelief. “So you did, Shining Star. So you did…” His eyes roam over my body, giving me a quick once over and again, he smiles.

“Told you I could,” I huff.

I stand there glaring, challenging him to a duel I just might lose, but I hold my ground steadily.

As I start to turn away, he stops me with his deep voice that tears through my unsettled mind. “Next time, don’t hold back the first time.”

My eyes slit like snake eyes, and my head whips back around to him. “I wasn’t holding back.”

“‘Course you weren’t, sweetheart. Keep bringing that heat to the floor,” he smirks, letting his shoulder brush against mine as he makes his way back to the rest of the squad.

“Hey,” I snap, making his head turn back around toward me. “Don’t pretend like you know me.”

He arches an eyebrow and challenges me with his gravelly tone. “Oh, I think I already got a good readin’ on you. Yeah, think I got you figured out jus’ fine,” he chuckles, flicking his dark eyes once more over mine.

I scoff and dig my heel hard into the mat. “If you really knew me, you’d know that my floor and balance beam routines need the most work. My vault routine is near perfect. But apparently, you don’t know me at all.”

He lifts an eyebrow quizzically, letting the gears grind in his jumbled head like he’s trying to figure me out, but I don’t give him the chance. I storm off toward the uneven bars and wait with my arms crossed over my chest, fuming, just wanting to get this day over with. And I feel his eyes burn hot like a match running painfully slow through my body.

I’ll show him I’m not a pretty, dainty flower. I’m a tiger, and I’m out for blood. His blood.

Joel’s POV

The laptop screen flickers on, the Google tab already pulled up in front of my face. Using the smooth black mouse to control my thick fingers, YouTube is the link I pull up first. I quickly type out the name Madison Summers and instantly, dozens of gymnastics videos pop up on the glowing screen. Clicking on the first one, the video comes to life like a movie.

It’s last year’s fall competition in Orlando, Florida. The floor routine. The one she said needed to work on.

Sitting back comfortably into the leather office chair with my legs splayed wide, thumb tapping against the mahogany table, I scan and assess like I’m just a viewer in the audience.

The crowd goes wild when her name is called, chanting her name and clapping like a wave of thunder. She doesn’t even flinch, her hazel eyes bright and alight with a hint of confidence glowing in the fluorescent lights that shine down on her. And when the music comes to life, so does she.

She takes to the floor like a graceful swan, her movements as smooth as butter. She has an essence about her that screams confidence, her pretty eyes sharp and narrowed each time she flips or performs a split jump.

I let my fingertips scratch down my patchy scruff, eyes locked intensely when she takes a deep breath and braces for her big move. I don’t know what’s coming, but I find myself on the edge of my office chair, palms sweating as I wait with bated breath.

Why I’m nervous, I don’t know. But I keep my wide eyes glued to the screen, as if I’m there with her, standing on the sidelines cheering her on with clenched fists.

She snaps, running like a prowling lion, ready to attack a pack of wild gazelles. She has fire in her eyes with every breath she takes, and I can see right there she has a heart of a winner.

Flipping into her jump, she performs a Double Arabian, building momentum with every twist her body constructs. And when she lands, shakily, she has the crowd standing to their feet, screaming their lungs out as if she’s already won the gold.

She’s powerful, nearly flawless, a beautiful lioness that claws her way through the spring floor, daring anyone to take the title away from her. And I see why Coach Carr called her Shining Star now. She’s absolutely sparkling like a thousand galaxies in that room, and she’s got the entire crowd’s eyes locked on her, including mine.

I sit there for over an hour glued to the screen, watching every single competition video I can get my hands on. One hand digs into the leather arm, the other anxiously taps away at the side of the sleek mouse. I make little notes in my mind, things she needs to work on and moves that make her stand out amongst the rest of the gymnasts. This girl is a fucking powerhouse, and she’s got immense talent that’ll take her far.

But there’s one tiny thing I notice. There’s an entire year missing from the videos. No trace of anything but a speck of dust. Coach Carr told me one of the girls had taken a year off, but she didn’t specify who or why. And now all I can wonder is what made this special girl lose an entire year of training? I’ll find out. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but I will figure it out one way or another. Even if I have to rip it out of her stubborn mind.

Madison was made to be a champion. I can see it in the way she commands a room, fighting for her chance at the gold. She’s incredible, nothing less. And dare I say, I even think she could make it to the Olympics. I will take her to the Olympics, if only she’ll accept me as her coach.

That stunt she pulled in practice today? She obviously hates my guts. The way she talked back to me and made it a statement to show off she could land a triple? Well, if she wants attention then she’s got my full attention now. If she wants to play with fire, I’ll give her the whole damn inferno.

#joel miller x ofc #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #no outbreak au #coach!Joel #joel the last of us #joel miller fan fiction #gymnastics au

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rock-and-roll-hell · 5 months ago

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July 25, 1980

Unmasked Tour

Palladium - New York City, NY

Eric Carr’s live debut with KIϟϟ wearing the first version of his “Fox” makeup. While heavily featuring the 1979 and 1980 studio albums, it is somewhat strange to consider that the set included three covers: “2,000 Man,” originally recorded by the Rolling Stones; “New York Groove,” originally recorded by Hello; and “King of the Night Time World,” originally performed by the Hollywood Stars (though never commercially released). “Is That You?” while not written by the band had also not been commercially released by the writer or other artists. The only United States “Unmasked” era concert and contemporary performance of material from that album. This show marked the live debut of three songs from “Unmasked” including “Is That You?,” “Talk To Me,” and “You’re All That I Want.”The Palladium was the renamed Academy of Music, where KIϟϟ had made their industry debut in December 1973. KIϟϟ spun their appearance at a smaller venue: “It was a night of nostalgia for Ace, Paul and Gene. And a dream come true for Eric Carr. KIϟϟ planned a special performance at the Palladium in New York to introduce Eric to its staunchest home town fans. There was very little publicity. The one-night-only show was mostly a word of mouth affair. Although small for KIϟϟ today, the hall was chosen for sentimental reasons. Most of the fans, as well as the band, were remembering the historic night KIϟϟ played its first important New York performance on that very stage… the show was a resounding success”.

From local press: “KIϟϟ performed at the Palladium on Friday night, which was unusual; the group usually plays venues the size of Madison Square Garden. Slipping popularity may account for the Palladium date to some extent, but KIϟϟ could certainly have filled the theater several nights running and chose not to do so. The show’s primary purpose seems to have been the introduction of Eric Carr, the new drummer, to the band’s hard-core fans. A few diehards yelled for the departed Peter Criss, but not for long. This listener kept trying to remember what Mr. Criss used to sound like, but the effort proved fruitless. Before long, he became accustomed to Mr. Carr, who played a somewhat elaborate drum kit and was sometimes a little floppy but kicked the music along nicely. The band had installed its flashy stage set and resorted to a number of its tried and true visual gimmicks, but with the scale of the event reduced, one tended to focus more on the music. It wasn’t bad. It was heavy-handed, macho to an almost comical degree, rife with bombast and excess, everything one expects heavy metal to be, but the playing was tight – much tighter than the last time the reviewer heard KIϟϟ, at the Garden – and most of the songs weren’t padded with unnecessary solo noodling. Whether KIϟϟ fans will take to Mr. Carr remains to be seen; one would think they’d be satisfied with Gene Simmons’s tongue-wagging and fire-breathing and Ace Frehley’s flaming guitar. In any event, and for what it’s worth, Mr. Carr’s addition to the band seems to have been a positive step, though it isn’t likely to make KIϟϟ’ music ‘genuinely important to life’” (New York Times, 7/27/80).

Another: “Carr proved to be a capable drummer but no Peter Criss. The show wasn’t quite the visual extravaganza I’d anticipated, nor was it the Sodom and Gomorrah meets 'The Night of the Living Dead’ I’d feared. Instead, it seemed like the 'Wizard of Oz’ gone awry” (Aquarian).

From a mainstream review: “It was apparent from the appearance and playing of Carr that KIϟϟ one of the most successful rock acts of all times, was not taking any chances with the music or the formula now that original drummer Peter Criss has departed for a solo career… So it was almost the typical KIϟϟ show. But with the new drummer now more in the background, the focus was more on the front three… And although performing on a smaller stage than usual, the show was basically the same” (Billboard, 8/9/80).

From a regional review: “KIϟϟ concerts are a little like Christmas. The anticipation is half the fun, and everyone was up for this one… KIϟϟ crashed through their 20-song set with the delicacy of a chain gang” (London, CT, The Day, 8/1/80).

#kisstory #kiss #1980 #unmasked #eric carr #ace frehley #paul stanley #gene simmons #kiss band #kiss army #the fox #the spaceman #the starchild #the demon

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words-of-originality · 2 years ago

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Madison's fingers curl into fists as she holds Enya's gaze, not out of anger - though she sure as hell feels it - but to hide the trembling that she hasn't yet managed to stop ever since Enya had shown back up at her door. She's so, so angry, but yet somehow... all she wants is the pull the other young woman close and never let her go again.

She manages to hold herself back though as the memory of thinking she'd lost another person rushes through her, tears welling up in her eyes as she remembers thinking that she would never see Enya's face again.

"You better have a damn good explanation," she replies finally, firmly ignoring the stray tears that have chosen to trail down her cheeks.

@xfrom-flames-i-emergex

"You let me think you were dead!"

Continued from x

#c; madison silvera ~ strength comes in the moments when you think you can't go on but you do it anyway #xfrom-flames-i-emergex #{enya calwyn}#v; a very dangerous thing

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sterina-sims · 7 months ago

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Ferdinand decision to make breakfast causes a stove fire! Before you know it, both he and Madison are engulfed by the flames!

#ts2 #sims 2 #isbi feverfew #isbi gen 3

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deadpresidents · 1 month ago

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What is the worst book you've ever read (can be any genre)?

Here's what I wrote on March 1, 2015 about this piece of crap:

If you have some time and wish to take some sort of action to protest falsehoods and outright lies and tabloid "journalism", go down to your local bookstores and take every copy of Edward Klein's Blood Feud: The Clintons vs. The Obamas that you can find and place them in the fiction section.

This book is 300 pages of fabricated quotes from unnamed sources, and I recognize that Edward Klein has no shame, so he doesn't care what he writes or what I say about it, but Regnery Publishing ought to have at least a handful of standards. The shameful thing is that, by publishing a book like this, Regnery discredits -- by association -- all of the other serious, talented, and worthy authors who also have released books under their banner. Chris DeRose had his book Founding Rivals: Madison vs. Monroe, the Bill of Rights and the Election That Saved a Nation published by Regnery and it is a fantastic book. DeRose is a talented author, a real historian, and a true journalist, and he doesn't deserve to have his legitimate, important, deeply-researched, wonderfully-written work tainted by being released by the same publisher who also releases blatant lies and cowardly fiction like Edward Klein's book.

This isn't the first time Klein has written a patently untrue "book" filled with fictitious quotes that are all attributed to -- naturally -- unnamed sources or "anonymous insiders". In fact, if you do a Google search for "Edward Klein", the first page of results includes articles about how despicable he is. Not enough of those articles also place blame squarely on his publisher, even though Regnery also published the package of lies that came out directly before Blood Feud. And this isn't a political thing, either. If you check out the articles that delve into Klein's bullshit, you'll find that much of the criticism is from Conservatives, including Sean Hannity, Fox News, Rush Limbaugh (!), and other Conservative sources that also find his lies to be ridiculous. If you write a book bashing the Obamas and the Clintons, you really have to be terrible and discredited if the articles feature headlines like Even Fox & Friends Doesn't Buy Ed Klein's Latest "Bombshell" (UPDATE: Limbaugh Is Skeptical, Too)

Again, the publisher deserves a big segment of the blame, as well. Edward Klein should be throwing his bullshit at the wall and screaming at clouds, but Regnery Publishing believes that he's worthy enough to have his outright lies published and sold, as if he was on the same level as the legitimate historians and writers that they also publish.

Since Regnery Publishing wants to treat Edward Klein like a real writer and Blood Feud like a real book, I guess I'll go ahead and officially review it. So, here is my very official review of Edward Klein's Blood Feud:

Blood Feud: The Clintons vs. The Obamas by Edward Klein (Regnery Publishing, 2014) is garbage that sat out in the sun all summer. Also: it is shit. If you want to experience Blood Feud, or any of Edward Klein's writing, really, I'd suggest going to a dog park, collecting all of the crap deposited by the dogs that visit the park for a full week, putting it in one, large garbage bag, and then taking it to the city dump. Then, take that big garbage bag full of week-old dog crap, empty it on the biggest, nastiest pile of refuse that you can find at the city dump, light it on fire, dive into the flames, make up a bunch of absolutely, positively, ridiculously unbelievable lies, and then shoot yourself. There you go: Edward Klein's "journalism", but with a happier ending.

You can probably find Blood Feud at your local bookstore, but if you buy it, I'll come to your town, kick down your door, berate you for purchasing the book, make you read out-loud some of the blatant and ridiculous lies that Edward Klein attempts to pass off as direct quotations, ask you what you think about that garbage, demand to know why you gave somebody money for that garbage, put the book on the floor, rub your nose in it as if you had gone to the bathroom on the rug, force you to rip all of the pages of the book out and flush them down the toilet, berate you once again, and then put your door back on its hinges just so I could kick it down again for good measure. So...don't buy it.

P.S.: It's also worth nothing that unnamed sources told me, "Buying Edward Klein's book directly funds the work of ISIS, particularly when it comes to video editing for propaganda purposes, food and fuel, ski masks, weaponry, and executing apostates." I can't confirm any information about the person who said that or the validity of their statement, but that's how all of the quotes are presented in Klein's books, so it must be true.

#Books #Terrible Books #Edward Klein

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