#it took me a full hour to write this originally last night

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room: Simon's POV

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, possessive behavior, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty thoughts, multiple creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: originally for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge, this is Simon's POV follower parts ONE & Two of Locker Room.

A/N(2): Remember how I said I was in the emergency room and have been feeling like absolute shit? Well I slept for 48 hours and I felt well enough to write this. Enjoy!

Part One // Part Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

A bloke shouldn’t have his wank interrupted in the shower.

Simon had been in his head, his hand around his cock, stroking himself to the image of the woman he’s been thinking about for the last few fucking months.

He had heard the silence first, all the banter in the locker room ceasing. That pulled him right out of it, and in seconds Simon stepped out of the shower with a towel around his hips. Your voice drifted in, demanding an audience with him.

And he knew why.

He left that little note on purpose.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Simon wanted to rile you up, to push you a bit, but he didn’t think you’d barge into the men’s locker room just to confront him.

When he appeared, and everyone cleared out, Simon didn’t expect such fire from you. He thought you would fold. That with one look you’d melt into him, but you did the opposite. And then you grabbed him by the fucking dog tags and kissed him.

Simon was done for.

The moment you left, he returned to that shower and jerked himself so fast it almost hurt. He had to have you, but Simon wasn’t going to go after you right then. He made himself wait, and that was the hardest fucking part. Simon desired nothing more than to follow you out of that locker room, toss you over his shoulder, and carry you off.

He’s glad he waited. Simon took you in your office, and yet it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you. Worse, Simon could tell that you were going to end it right then, leave everything nice and tidy. And Simon wasn’t having that.

Now, you’re here, in his home.

Naked. Bare. Skin glossy with sweat. Pussy full of his cum.

You’re fucking beautiful like this, and the sounds you make are even sweeter.

With arms outstretched against the bed, you arch your back, pushing your ass up into the air. Simon fills his hands with those perfect cheeks. He squeezes, leans forward, and gently bites, pulling forth a moan from your lips that goes straight to his dick.

You’ve been milking him all fucking night. You keep demanding more, and Simon is happy to give it. He doesn’t want to go into work. He wants to stay right here. With you. In his bed.

With your knees digging into the top of the bed, you spread them a bit, exposing your pussy to Simon. He cannot help himself when he sees the mess he’s made there. Removing one hand from your ass, Simon runs his fingers over your slick pussy. The sound of his fingers sliding through you invades the room, and it is all Simon can focus us.

It’s a gorgeous sight. A gorgeous sound.

“You want more, love?” asks Simon gently.

His gaze sweeps over your body as his fingers play with your pussy. You shiver, inhale sharply, and then moan a reply that sounds like an agreement. You’re almost twitching with need. You can’t stay still. Every part of you is asking for more, opening for him, but Simon needs to hear those sweet words on your lips.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time leaning over your body to grasp your face and turn your gaze on him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me, Simon.” You’re begging, almost pleading, and Simon will happily oblige.

Gently, Simon releases you from his hold, only to press you into the position he wants. You’re flat on your stomach as Simon runs his hands up and down your back. It’s a soothing gesture, but it’s mostly to comfort you than him.

Simon is burning beneath his skin. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he also knows that he’s exhausted you, and while you’re not entirely satiated, he doesn’t want you to push it.

His hands fall upon your hips. Simon eases them up a bit, urging your thighs apart with his knees. You comply, and the obedience is delicious to him. You’re demanding—full of fire—and yet for him, you’re melting before his eyes. It’s so different from the Locker Room and from your office.

Slowly, Simon drapes himself over you, flexing his hips back to line the head of his cock up to your entrance. The moment he starts to push in, you groan loudly, body starting to lift from the bed. But Simon relaxes his weight, trapping you beneath him. He props himself up on his left elbow and forearm. While is other hand pressed into the bed next to your waist.

There is no escape. You cannot wiggle out from under him or even buck against him. Simon likes it like this. Like you beneath him. Likes you sweaty. Panting. Begging.

Simon retreats and thrusts forward, sliding in to the hilt. Even now, you’re so fucking tight it’s smashing his brain into mush. He needs to fucking control himself, to make this pleasurable for you as much as it is for him.

He starts slow, finding a rhythm that has you moaning in just the way he likes. It’s almost a tell. Even now, Simon is reading your signals.

Simon brushes his lips against the curve of your shoulder. His tongue darts out to taste the salt. “You’ve been so good for me,” he murmurs. “Taking me well all night.”

“Simon,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot.

Simon grins against your shoulder blade. His hand slips from the bed to slide underneath your body. With each stroke, Simon stimulates your clit. He doesn’t change pace. He knows better. Soon you’re melting. Shaking. Each breath of yours quickening until it’s a guttural groan that even has Simon questioning his sanity.

You vibrate and shake. There is victory on Simon’s tongue. He slips his hand from beneath your body only to tangle it in your hair. He holds firm and then he rocks his hips faster, grunting his own need out above you until his lower-half tenses, and then he’s gasping, his release flooding your pussy.

Simon almost collapses.

He is worn out. Fucking tired. How many times have the two of you fucked tonight? At least five. And this might just be the last of the evening.

Simon runs his hand over your hip and waist only to dip to your stomach. With one fluid motion, Simon curls onto his side, bringing you to rest against his chest. Brushing your hair out of face, Simon kisses a trail from the curve of your shoulder to your lips.

You greet him with a smile.

Simon’s hand roams upward, only to lightly wrap around the front of your neck. You do not protest or push back at this, and something primal within Simon awakens.

This is not a one-time thing for him. You are his, and if that means he needs to mark his territory, he fucking will. Any man at work that even looks at your wrong is dead.

Well—not dead. But Simon will make damn sure they know to back the fuck off.

You’re his. Even if you haven’t agreed. Even if you haven’t decided anything.

You are not walking away.

This isn’t over.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess

@saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @contractedcriteria

@talooolaaloolla @rogerrhqpsody @sadlonelybagel @cinnabeanz @aykxz98

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @sammysinger04

@certainlygay @soapyreaper @hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair

@suhmie @kidd3ath @lovely-ateez @marispunk

[wearebarca]

Epilogue. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8* - Part 9* - Part 10 - Part 11* - Part 12

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

A/N: Here it is, the end of an adventure. I am so glad I got to share this story with an amazing community. I am not done writing. I’d like to hear your ideas and keep sharing stories with you beautiful people. Au plaisir de vous revoir mes amis.

She had worked so hard for more than a year on this project and still, it felt surreal to have all her efforts culminated to this moment. She was proud. She had poured her soul in every picture, and it was all for a good cause. The profit of every print sold would go to the Barcelona foundation.

So far the night had gone like a charm. People were walking around and admiring her work. Several people had seeked out the photographer to give their congratulations and share which frame they would bring home at the end of the night. The whole ordeà was a lot for the brunette, but what fuelled her was seeing her friends walk around in a room that showcased the love their fans arbour for them. Every now and then, she could hear a loud exclamation in Spanish and she knew it would be one of the players stopping in front of their pictures, and that meant the world to her.

The wine glass in her hand was still full an hour after the opening and the dark liquid was more and more enticing the closer she was to her speech. This was her exhibition, her grand idea, it wasn’t surprising that the club wanted her to present it properly. But Rosalie had never been a public speaker, she hated when attention was on her and that much became pretty clear to everyone around her after the events of last year.

Her nerves were slowly getting the best of her, until a particular voice reached her ear. Even in a room full of people, her senses were always reaching out for her. A quick scan of the room and there she was, engaged in a conversation with the buyers of her picture. It was of her, after her goal at the champions league final. It had been taken from behind, her arms out, her beautiful back tattoos on display, about to take a bow in front of the crowd.

The digital version currently took place as her lockscreen and she was very proud of it. As if feeling the pull of eyes, Alexia turned towards the photographer’s who’s gaze was already on her. One look at the brunette and Alexia excused herself and motioned to the smaller woman to follow her out back.

The backroom was dark and the sounds of the gallery were muffled. Rosalie took a deep breath, the first since she had set foot in the building. Behind her, strong hands connected with her waist and spun her around. Alexia’s familiar perfume engulfed her senses, automatically calming her down.

“This Is your moment bonita, you are going to be great.” She whispered in the brunette’s ear, scared to break their bubble by speaking too loud. “Je suis fière de toi mon amour.”

The words were still heavily accented but they were spoken with a lot more fluidity than a year ago. The words pulled a smile from the photographer who unburied her face from the blonde’s neck.

“You are getting better and better at this,” she said, chuckling. “You might actually impress my family On Christmas.”

Alexia laughed at the comment. They had just booked their tickets to go spend Christmas in Quebec Canada and she was nervous about meeting her girlfriend’s family, but the giddiness with which Rosalie had described Christmas time in Quebec had managed to convince her nonetheless.

“Oh no, my French skills are reserved just for you.” She said, pecking the brunette’s lips. “ Rosalia, what you accomplished is beautiful, be yourself, be proud of your work and it'll all be great, believe me.”

“I love you.” It was natural by now. The words rolled off her tongue with ease but held the same meaning, the same intensity as the first time she had uttered them. “Te amo también mi amor.” Alexia answered.

Whispers could be heard outside of the door which provoked an impressive eye roll from the blonde captain. “Aye dios ellas serán la muerte de mi.”

Alexia yanked the door open which made Patri lose her footing and tumble in the room. Mapi and Pina both looked like children who knew they’d been caught.

“What are the three stooges doing here?” Rosalie asked, unable to hold in her laugh.

“Nothing very smart I am afraid” Alexia said.

“They sent us to look for Rosa, they want her to do her speech soon.” Patri said.

“But we thought you ladies ran away to…”

“Marià Pilar Leon, don't you finish that sentence.” Alexia said in an annoyed tone. The three women smiled in a suggestive way and walked out, but not before reminding the two to finish up quickly and get back to the real party.

Rosalie took a deep breath and closed her eyes for an instant. She felt warm, callous hands grab her own.

“Listo, Rosalia?”

“Oui.”

[krisdreaming]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x f!reader

WC: 1.2k

Summary: Osamu and his wife just had a baby. Now Atsumu sees them everywhere.

A/N: This kind of took a very different direction than I was originally planning and tbh, I kinda hate it now, but I spent over two hours writing it, so I'm gonna roll with it anyway. Maybe when I re-read it in the morning, I'll hate it less 😅

There's a term for it. Atsumu isn't sure what it is, but he knows that as soon as you're exposed to something new, you start noticing it around you more and more. That must be why, ever since Osamu's son was born, he's been seeing babies everywhere. They're at the grocery store. They're at the park. Suddenly, half of his teammates have been expanding their families like it's some kind of competition.

Suffice to say, Atsumu has seen more than his share of babies over the past few weeks. Sure, they're cute, or whatever. When a baby smiles at you, you can't help but smile back. When they grab onto your finger, you let them hold it for as long as they want. When they engage you in a staring contest across the grocery store aisle, you only put up a little bit of a fight before giving them the satisfaction of winning, flashing a sheepish smile at their mom or dad as you turn the corner.

The sight of the little monsters has started to trigger a strange twinge in Atsumu's middle, which he chalks up to the fact that he's an uncle now. There's a brand new member of his family, and he's really happy for Osamu and his wife. Seeing the babies everywhere reminds him of that. That's all it is.

See, the two of you had talked about this. You aren't ready for kids right now. He's in the prime of his volleyball career, and you love your job. You're both happy as just the two of you, spending your free time together doing the things you enjoy and getting a full eight hours of sleep each night. Having a baby would change everything. Your last discussion on the topic, right after Osamu and his wife had shared their pregnancy with the two of you, had ended on that exact note. He's pretty confident that's still how you feel. He's relatively confident that's still how he feels, too.

Of course, the longer it goes on, the harder it is to explain away. He watches Osamu doting on his son, snuggling him close and kissing his cheeks and smiling bigger than Atsumu's ever seen before. He knows his brother is tired, but he doesn't seem to care. He watches the way he looks at his wife, and the way both of them look at their son, and it softens something inside him. He sees you cradling your nephew close, cooing down at him with a soft smile, and his heart turns over in his chest.

Finally, one day, he comes to Osamu with a question.

"What's it like?" Osamu is wiping down the counter at Onigiri Miya, clearly trying to disguise his surprise and mild consternation at seeing his brother show up out of the blue, five minutes before closing time.

"What's what like?" He grunts, scrubbing at a ground-in glob of rice.

"Y'know," Atsumu gestures vaguely, "Being a dad."

"Ah," Osamu hums, grasping that quickly what this is all about. "It's incredible. I mean, don't get me wrong," He chuckles, "It ain't easy. It's way worse than whatever ya try to imagine based off a' everybody's helpful advice," He lifts his hands in air quotes. "But somehow, it's also worth it, in a way ya never could've imagined it would be. The way ya feel every time ya look at 'em - ya can't even put it into words."

Atsumu isn't sure how he's supposed to respond to that, so he just nods. Osamu smiles, looking him up and down with a too-critical eye. "Any special reason yer asking?"

"No," Atsumu says with a quick shake of his head, "Just curious, 's all."

Osamu nods, not saying another word, but the smirk on his face is more than enough to make Atsumu want to knock it clean off. Osamu's answer is exactly what he'd been afraid of.

It comes to a head one sunny Saturday afternoon when the two of you meet up with Osamu and his wife and son to visit a festival. The afternoon is starting to wind down when Osamu unceremoniously dumps the baby into Atsumu's arms. "Hey, mind watching him while we go to the bathroom quick?"

"Ah, sure," Atsumu says to his brother's already-retreating back. You poke at the baby's irresistibly pudgy cheeks, giggling along with him when your attentions illicit a bout of laughter.

"Oh my, what a sweetheart!" The elderly woman seems to appear out of nowhere, something Osamu is constantly describing but which Atsumu hasn't experienced until this moment. "Such a happy baby," She grins. "How old is he?" She looks expectantly at you, and after you gather your wits, you answer her.

The woman nods knowingly, as if she'd predicted as much. "Are you having a fun day with Mommy and Daddy?" She asks next in a goofy voice, completely oblivious to the way Atsumu chokes on the breath he'd just been inhaling and you shoot him a wide-eyed glance.

"Ah, well, actually-" You stammer out, at the same time Atsumu blurts, "We're not his parents."

"I see," She says good-naturedly, "Well even so, he looks very happy with you." With that, she goes on her merry way, and you and Atsumu share a bewildered look. Osamu and his wife return from the bathroom, and neither of you mentions the awkward encounter. It doesn't come up until later that evening, when the two of you are lying in bed.

"That was really somethin' today, huh?" Atsumu asks, trying to ignore the fact that his stomach is suddenly in knots.

"The old lady?" You chuckle weakly. "Yeah, 'Samu's right, they really don't have any shame, do they?"

"Yeah," Atsumu says, then takes a deep breath. "Do ya think, maybe, it's time to have that conversation again?"

You're silent for a few moments, and he can't quite place the emotions that cross your face. He doesn't have to explain which conversation he means.

"Maybe," You finally agree in a low voice. "Are you saying that your decision might be different this time?" It could be his imagination, but Atsumu almost thinks that you look hopeful.

"Maybe," He says carefully. "Would yours?"

"Maybe," You echo him, but there's a smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

"There would be a lot of changes," He says softly, fingertips tracing aimless shapes up and down your arm.

"Maybe we're ready for those changes," You murmur back, catching his hand in yours and letting him twine your fingers together.

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. "As long as I've got you, I think I might be."

"Me too," You say, leaning in slightly to nudge the tip of your nose against his. When he kisses you, he hopes the pressure of his lips can convey even the things he can't put into words. He can't imagine living this life with anyone else.

[multifan2022]

*Prewarning.. this is my first attempt at writing again.. I haven't touched my laptop since January so bare with me lol*

You could feel the warm wetness running down the side of your neck as you sat pinned at a weird angle. There was a sharp and hot pain every time you took a breath as you tried to remember where you were. What was the last thing you did? You couldn't remember getting in the bronco. Didnt remember driving away from the house. All you could remember was fighting with Bradley. 

“Why would you say that to him Brad?! You know how devastated he was when Goose died! You're not the only person that hurt Rooster! FUCK!” You slammed your hands down onto the counter, having a hard time even looking at your husband. While you and your dad were not close, you never blamed him for what happened with Goose. Sure you blamed him for the short break up between you and Bradley as young adults but clearly that was in the past. All you wanted now was for them to figure it out, you wanted to be a family, have a family. But now as Bradley stood here looking at you the same way he looks at Mav.. You were questioning things..

You hadn't even noticed that you called him Rooster.. A thing that just started after the move back to Fightertown. Because you had always known Bradley, he wasn't Rooster too you.. But every night when he came home, a little more mad, and a little more distant, your Bradley was being replaced by Rooster. The aviator who was the best of the best, who was part of the 1%. But was also the aviator who had taken the anger and trauma Bradley had and used it to mold himself. 

“No one to mourn you when you burn in… Really Bradley, because last time I checked, I am the one and only emergency contact for BOTH OF YOU!”

That if your rattled brain could remember correctly was the spark that lit the match. You and Bradley did not fight often, but when you did it was explosive. The kind of fights that left people in tears, the kind that led to words that should've been left unspoken. One of you always ended up on the couch for a few hours, normally both in tears until one of you couldnt take it anymore. Tonight was the first night that one of you actually left. 

You didn't even know which part it was that pushed Bradley over the edge. Was it you telling him you couldn't have kids with him if he couldn't get his anger under better control? That you refused to keep Mavs grandkids from him one day over some pulled papers? Was it when you said that you had sacrificed enough to be with him, that you had to draw the line? Was it when you told him Goose and Carol would be disappointed in how he treated Mav today? 

No matter what it was, the words he spoke as he left stung enough to leave you standing in the same spot for at least 30 minutes after he left. When you blinked and everything caught up with you, you realized the quietness of the house was turning your stomach. Without thinking you slipped shoes on and grabbed your keys. Originally you wanted to just drive your jeep around, clear your head since Bradley had just taken the doors and top off. But when you noticed the bronco still in the drive you couldn't resist being just a little close to Bradley. 

That's how two hours later you ended up driving down some road next to some beach. Honestly at this point you weren't even sure where you were. All you could think about was how hard you were crying as Tim McGraw and Tswift came on. Highway don't care, it seemed poetic, if a song was ever written for the aftermath of this fight, it was this one. When it ended, you had decided it was past time to call Bradley, to find out where he was and at least get you both home. Unfortunately you accidentally knocked your phone out of the old cup holder and onto the passenger floor. One last attempt to save it before it flew out the open door was made. 

You should've let it fly out the door. Because as you stretched across the cab, a car full of intoxicated teenagers came down the middle of the road. You could've sworn you heard someone yell your name as you sat straight up, jerking the wheel way too harshly in your panic to try and miss them. You desperately tried to keep control of the bronco as you skid sideways, unable to get control before it flipped down the side of the bank. 

That's where you were now, wondering how much more Bradley would hate you for crashing his late fathers baby. In your concussed mind, this would be the feather that shattered your relationship. The nail in the proverbial coffin. Part of you registered how long you had been hanging sideways in your seat, the truck having stopped on the passenger side after flipping a few times. You registered that you were struggling to breathe, and definitely were bleeding. You didn't hear any sirens, knew that the teens had not stopped. But thankfully, as one Amelia Benjamin, was dropped off at home her conscience overran her fear of being in trouble. 

So she told her mother and her boyfriend how she had been out drinking. How there had been a vehicle, one she swore she knew, that ended up off the road and she couldn't get anyone to stop. The two adults reassured her that while she was in trouble, she made a good choice in telling them. That maybe she saved someone's life. Little did they know how closely this would hit their little family. 

~~

Jake was over Bradley, the new found friendship they had was great. But it was two in the morning, and Jake honestly just didn't get it. He couldn't imagine having a lifelong love. A childhood best friend turned into the love of his life. So he couldn't wrap his brain around why Rooster was sitting in his kitchen right now. He also couldn't figure out who Rooster was mad at, himself or you? He told him as much and was surprised and worried when big brown eyes lifted from the floor with tears in them. 

“Myself, I think.” Roosters voice croaked “Because she's right ya know.. How can I ask her to give me a family when I cant even be nice to her dad? You know I didn't even ask for his blessing? Not because I thought he would say no, but because I thought it would be a slap in the face to him.. I've always used her as a way to hurt him..” Rooster broke off in a sob. It hurt Hangman's heart to see how hard of a time his wingman was having. But if he knew you, and he felt like he did, you were going through it worse. 

Taking a deep breath he pushed off his counter, annoyed that he was pulling his boots on with his impromptu sweat pants and grabbing his truck keys. Roosters watery eyes followed him before he jumped from his stool, understanding what was happening. When the two were finally in the truck Jake spoke, “Look Bradshaw, I know we aren't great friends or whatever, but I'm gonna tell you something that's gonna suck to hear.” Without looking he clicked the radio off before he continued. “Y/n.. She's a once in a lifetime kinda woman. The kind that will put up with just about anything to make things work. But once she draws a line in the sand, its there forever. Not just for you, but for the next guy too.” 

The hair on Rooster's arms stood on end, not only because of Jakes words but he swore he heard another male voice whisper his name. “What do you mean.. The next guy..” Jake scoffed at how soft and confused Rooster's words were. “My man.. Do you think she will stick around if the one thing she asks of you, is something you refuse to do? She has already given up her father walking her down the aisle.. He wasn't even at the wedding right? She's moved all over to be with you. The only long term roots she has are from when she lived with you as a kid. When was the last time she asked something big of you?” 

Rooster couldn't recall, causing Jake to just sigh and shake his head “I'm telling you this as your friend.. Fix this.. Because I wont fuck up where Maverick is concerned” Jake smirked at Bradley as they pulled into the driveway of your shared home. Rooster was practically out of the truck before it was in park, neither of them registering that the Bronco was gone. Jake watched as Bradley yelled your name, panicking more and more as he cleared each room. When he made it back to the living room he was already pulling his phone out. His thumb didn't even hesitate to click the call button as he tried to get ahold of you. 

He called over and over again, not knowing that you were watching as your phone buzzed just a few feet from the car. You could swear you saw a man who looked just like Bradley walk up to the Bronco and give you a sad smile. Your eyes closed just as the bright blue and red lights started flashing close enough to illuminate your accident. Your last thought about how Bradley would get what he wanted. What his final sentence had been to you, come to life.. It just cost him the Bronco. 

~~~

The ER was nuts on a good night, but tonight a Nurse named Layla was panicking. She had only met you a few times, being one of Hangman's regulars. At first, when she heard the explanation of the vehicle she was sure it was a Bradshaw, but unfortunately there was no IDS in the car and the police in the rush of trying to save you, had missed your phone. It wasn't until she rushed into the room to help with the CPR rotation that she knew it was you. Your hair was matted back with blood, the number of cuts and bruises amazed her. She was even more amazed that the tattoo on your hip was untouched. The one of a rooster with aviators on, the one that had confirmed who you were. 

Quickly announcing that she knew who you were she ran from the room. Slipping sideways as she tried to open her employee locker. She had never dialed Jake's number so quickly. 

Jake felt sick after he hung up. He was thankful for Layla, honestly he had always really liked her and this made him feel like he needed to take the whole thing with her seriously. But as he looked at Bradley, who was practically hyperventilating he didn't know how he was going to get him to the hospital. Layla had told him it was bad, bad enough that she didn't know if you were going to make it. Hangman heard the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them. They were harsh and he wanted to take the way he said it back almost immediately. “Bradshaw, looks like I found your wife.. She's in the hospital.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradleys entire world came crashing down in a matter of nanoseconds. He kept trying to say what by only the wh would come out. He could see Jake's mouth moving as he ushered him back to the truck, and could comprehend that he was on the phone with Mav. But he couldn't grasp anything. 

Well that is until the last interaction he had with his wife, the wife who was currently dying, played in his head. The one where he stormed out, didn't tell her he loved her. Didn't give her a kiss. Just said words that want to make him vomit now. Jake didn't fully hear him the first time he spoke, but when he asked Rooster to repeat himself, it took a lot of self control to not hit the man. 

“My last words to her.. They were that I'd probably be better off without any of the Mitchells..”

Bradley's mouth tasted sour, his whole body weighed down as he cried silently. Thinking about how much he would hate himself if he couldn't make this right. What if you left him after this? Would you move in the Mav? Get with someone like Jake? God he doesn't think he could watch it. Doesn't think he could handle you even packing an overnight bag to be away from him for a night. Why did he always let this happen? 

Why does he always let his anger just blurt out, why does he always take it out on you? When Mav had pulled his papers? It had been you he left. When his mom passed and you were trying to clean the house up for the wake.. It had been you he screamed at, even you whose head was right next to the wall he threw her favorite coffee cup into. But he only ever remembered the parts he liked. The memories where you held him while he cried and tried to pick up the pieces of that cup. Where he found a replacement in the cupboard a few days later. The parts of your story that made him feel loved. Like when he showed up at UVA, standing on your townhouse step with a duffle bag, sad eyes and apologies. It had been pouring rain, you had made him beg on his knees on the front porch before letting him in. 

He didn't hear any of Jake's words on the drive, and was out of the car even sooner this time. His feet eat up the distance between him and the front desk attendant. When they tell him you're still unstable and he will have to wait, he almost passes out. Once again Jake leads him to a seat. He doesn't register anything that doesn't have to do with you. He barely notices as the other members of the squad show up. Maverick kneels in front of him trying to catch his eye. But when he does, Bradley loses it. The tears that have been silently streaming down his face are now coming out in full sobs. Bradley keeps apologizing over and over, for not treating his daughter the way he should have. For what he said, for how long he has let this go on. It's like sad but relieving word vomit. 

Once Bradleys done, he moves on to reassuring an equally distressed Amelia. Who crying and sobs every word out as she explains to someone she looks at like a big brother, what happened. Bradleys not mad at her, hes not even mad at her friends. He's mad at himself, because had he grown up sooner, had he not been the reason for this fight, you wouldn't have been out on the road anyways. You would've been at home, wrapped up in his arms watching trash tv before having sex and falling asleep. He put you here, he knows that. 

When Layla comes out and says a soft hi, it breaks her heart and fills it to see the entire group here. She's surprised when Jake comes and hugs her, kissing the top of her head and thanking her profusely. She spoke as frankly and kindly as she could. “It was touch and go for a while. We lost her a few times.. She was unconscious when the cops found her.. She's got a long road ahead of her. Collapsed lung, small brain bleed, lots of bruises and a handful of broken bones. She's stable for now, but I don't really have good news yet. The first 24 hours are crucial.” 

All Bradley could hear as Layla led him and Maverick down the hall was that you had died.. Multiple times. He heard Mav gasp slightly as he entered the room, and it was like glue that forced Bradleys feet to stay in place. Layla paused as your dad walked towards you and turned to your husband. “I know this is hard Rooster.. But Y/ns a fighter.. She fought hard while in the Bronco, fought harder in the ambulance and here to stay with you.. But now she needs you..” Layla squeezed his arm as he took the small step to the doorway. 

The scene in front of him was nothing like in the movies. Ones where they show someone who was ‘in an accident’ but is barely bruised up. No, because the woman laying before him couldn't be his wife. Your skin was grayish, instead of the healthy tan glow you had developed under the Cali sun. The multiple leads and wires you had on you helping to sustain your life made him sick. A collar around your neck to keep your head stable. There were gashes across your beautiful face, and bruises on every inch of skin he could see. He knew the next moment he had with you would be make it or break it. You would either wake up, and be happy to see him.. Or you would wake up and ask him to leave.. 

Now all he could do.. Was wait. 

[pedroscurls]

get to know your mutuals

thanks for the tag @lubdubology @themareverine @princessanglophile <3

what's the origin of your blog title?: - i think it's best if i just show you. the curls were CURLIN that night and i've been obsessed ever since.

favorite fandoms: oof - that's a tough one. i've been in a few fandoms before this one, but aside from the pedro fandom, the negan/jdm fandom was by far one of my favorite times in my life 🥹

OTP(s) + shipname: joel miller + me, frankie morales + me, marcus acacius + me... (shipname - idk lol) 🤭

favorite color: i go back and forth quite a lot, but forest green might be my go-to

favorite game: the last of us (part 1 btw) - i have played that shit like 8 times now lmao

song stuck in your head: at my worst by pink sweat$

weirdest habit/trait?: oh i know so many commercial jingles that i'll literally stop what i'm doing to sing along if it comes on lmao

hobbies: writing, working out, and photography

if you work, what's your profession?: i'm in edtech (currently a team lead that assists with pre- and post-enrollment)

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?: photographer (i've always had this dream that my photographs would be in a museum or i'd work for nat geo)

something you're good at: photography (and it's only taken me 15 years to finally admit that lmao)

something you're bad at: building anything (listen - i can follow the instructions... it's not my fault that most of the time i have to redo it lol)

something you love: taking pictures, spending time with family, and my soul dog, Kobe

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: oh i don't think i can talk about something for hours (i'm naturally a very quiet person)

something you hate: aside from what the US is gonna be after jan 20? i hate when people are very inconsiderate of others...

something you collect: cameras + lenses (it's an expensive hobby lol)

something you forget: everything??? (my memory is shit nowadays)

what's your love language?: words of affirmation and physical touch (tell me you're proud of me while cupping my cheek 🙂‍↕️)

favorite movie/show: surprisingly, i don't have a fave movie, but fave show? modern family, hands down (it got me through a very rough year)

favorite food: chicken nuggets lol

favorite animal: i love quokkas omg

are you musical?: nope lol (i wish tho)

what were you like as a child?: a brat (ask my parents) - my parents used to think i'd grow up to be a lawyer bc i just loved to argue any chance i could get

favorite subject at school?: english! (so much that i got my bachelors in it lol)

least favorite subject?: science (it took me three times to pass bio 101 in community college)

what's your best character trait?: people have told me that i've got the biggest heart (and sometimes, that backfires on me)

what's your worst character trait?: hmm - i don't think i'm ever good enough

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?: i'd like to just be less stressed out (can i just win the lottery and never have to work again?)

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?: frank sinatra (would love to hear him sing live lol)

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): my favorite question so far (and this not even the full list - i really need to make one bc everyone on this site is just so talented ok)

with all my love by @lonely-ey3s (joel miller)

two weeks notice by @yxtkiwiyxt (dave york)

guilty as sin by @ovaryacted (marcus acacius)

diet pepsi by @logansbaby (old man!logan)

prima nocta by @fuckyeahdindjarin

stranger at my gate by @leslie-lyman

late night texts by @jolapeno

--

no pressure tags: @yxtkiwiyxt @ovaryacted @logansbaby @whimsiwitchy @wadewnstonwilson @lonely-ey3s @th3mrskory + anyone else who would like to do this :)

[beefromanoff]

Tempting Fate Ch. 10

summary: Friday night. Jade's in town. Tony throws a party. chaos ensues.

author's note: so this was originally twice as long but it was taking me forever to finish because I keep adding more, so I split it in half. here's part one <3

masterlist

tag list: tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings @jainaeatsstars @mcira @brooklynbear32

Friday Afternoon | Stark Industries

Evie shut down her workstation with a satisfied sigh, for once not running up against the lab’s automatic “Hey, go home, workaholic” lights-out protocol. One implemented by Tony after she’d pushed 50 hours straight working, which normally he wouldn’t care about, but he claimed Pepper was trying to get his HR violations down these days. So today, she had wrapped up early, packed her things, and for the first time in forever, she wasn’t the last one in the lab.

Because today was special. Today, Jade was coming.

She grinned to herself, stuffing her tablet into her bag, barely able to contain the excitement buzzing in her chest. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind—Steve and Bucky consumed most of her waking thoughts, work was both exhilarating and infuriating, and she still felt sheer giddiness at the fact that her days were full of uninhibited innovation. One thing was missing, and it was her best friend in the world. It was all coming together. Now she had a weekend of chaos, cocktails, and much-needed girl talk awaiting her just outside of this tower..

But first—one quick stop.

Evie took the elevator up rather than down, the familiar ding echoing softly in the otherwise quiet residential floor. She swiped her access card with ease (one minor security clearance update never hurt anyone) and stepped inside the apartment Steve, Bucky, and Sam shared. The place was eerily still, missing its usual inhabitants, but that didn’t stop her from waltzing in like she belonged there.

She grabbed a sticky note from the counter, uncapping a pen with her teeth as she scrawled out a quick message:

Boys—Hope the trip isn’t too miserable without me. I’d say I miss you, but I don’t want it to go to your heads. See you tonight.P.S. Borrowing a hoodie from JBB, since I already stole one from Cap and never gave it back. Need to keep things even.

She signed it with a little heart.

Then, purely because she could, Evie meandered over to the bedroom she knew was Bucky’s, opened the closet, and rifled through until she found something suitable. A navy SHIELD crewneck with a small emblem embroidered on the shoulder, tiny threaded font reading ‘Sargeant J. Barnes’. Her heart fluttered seeing his name there.

Focus.

With one last glance around, she slipped out of the apartment, the elevator taking her down the dozens of floors to the lobby. When the doors slid open, she was met with the most smug face she’d seen in quite some time. Or however long it had been since she last ran into her employer.

“Well, well, well,” Tony drawled, arms crossed over his chest.

Evie narrowed her eyes. “If you’re about to say something clever, don’t. I’m leaving early for once. No snark allowed.”

Tony gasped, clutching his chest theatrically. “Leaving early? My god, someone take a picture. I thought you and the lab were legally married at this point.”

Evie huffed, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “There’s another few years before common law kicks in, Stark.”

“I prefer to concern myself with other parts of the law,” he said simply.

Evie gave all her faux sweetness as she tilted her head. “Like what the punishment is for being drunk and disorderly?”

“Precisely.” Tony shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, suddenly far too casual. “Anywho, I assume you’re leaving to go fetch your oh-so-delightful friend and prepare for tonight’s party. There’s no more noble cause. Carry on.”

Evie stopped walking and narrowed her eyes. “That’s it? No more commentary?”

Tony put a hand over his chest. “Nope. Go forth, have fun, commit minor crimes. If you don’t tell me what happens, I’ll assume the worst. I’ll see you both later.”

Evie smirked as she turned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Tell Jade I can’t wait to see her,” Tony called behind her. “I’ve missed her every day!”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to pass it along.” Evie called back as she crossed the lobby, fighting a grin.

She’d been back in her apartment for approximately fifteen minutes when Jade texted that she was pulling up. Evie practically flew out of the elevator, nearly colliding with a poor delivery guy carrying three overloaded Doordash bags.

“Sorry—uh, important business,” she called over her shoulder, sprinting past the concierge desk and straight to the glass doors leading outside.

Jade’s car was a sleek, suspiciously expensive little thing, pulling up to the curb just as Evie burst through the doors.

“YOU—”

“OH MY GOD—”

The valet had barely stepped toward the driver’s side before Jade shrieked, throwing the car into park and launching herself out of the vehicle with zero regard for drawing attention to herself.

Evie ran right across the pavement. Right past a bewildered businessman who barely dodged out of the way. Right into Jade’s open arms. They collided, shrieking like they had just been separated for years instead of months.

Jade jumped, wrapping her arms and legs around Evie, forcing Evie to stumble slightly as she attempted to keep them both upright.

“I’VEMISSEDYOUSOMUCH,” Jade wailed dramatically, with absolutely zero regard for the fact that they had texted every single day and FaceTimed three times a week.

“IT’SSOGOODTOSEEYOU,” Evie screamed back, equally unhinged.

The valet, midway through reaching for Jade’s keys, paused, blinked twice, and subtly stepped back, as if deciding he did not get paid enough to be involved in whatever was happening here.

The doorman, however, was unfazed. He just sighed, rubbed his temple, and muttered, “Lord have mercy..”

Jade finally released Evie enough to slide back to her feet, but only barely, still clinging onto her arms.

“Oh my God, let me look at you—”

Evie grinned, stepping back dramatically and giving a twirl. “Same me, new tax bracket.”

Jade wheezed. “You look hot. Bitch, you look expensive. Is this what working for Tony Stark does to a person?”

“I mean, mostly I just get bullied on a corporate level and work obscene hours, but yes, the paycheck is nice.” Evie smirked, crossing her arms. “And damn, nice wheels, J. Guess your law career is really paying off.”

Jade grinned, patting the side of the car. “Oh, you know. Dad said I needed something reliable for my final year at Harvard.”

Evie snorted. “Mmm, yes. A brand new BMW convertible. Very practical. Perfect for studying.”

“Wouldn’t want to be late for class.” She winked.

Evie cackled, shaking her head. “Jesus, you are getting way too good at this. How are you even pulling this off?”

Jade smirked, slipping her arm through Evie’s as they finally started walking inside, making room for the valet to slip in and take her car. “Turns out, forged transcripts and the occasional paid-off admin assistant go a long way.”

“God, I cannot wait to see how this whole thing explodes one day.”

“We all have our cross to bear.” Jade sighed, dramatic. 

The elevator dinged as they stepped inside, trading places with the delivery driver from before. That’s when Jade finally took in Evie’s outfit, specifically the sweatshirt draped over her frame, the name embroidered on the sleeve, clearly not hers.

Her eyes snapped up, mouth dropping open. “IS THAT—”

Evie slapped a hand over her mouth, hissing. “Lower your voice.”

Jade ripped Evie’s hand away. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME—”

Evie gave a polite nod to the man, looking curiously over his shoulder as he walked through the lobby. Pushing the ‘close door’ button incessantly, she released Jade as the doors finally slid shut.

Jade cackled, utterly delighted. She bounced on her toes, eyes still locked onto Evie’s crewneck. “Evie. Genevieve. You absolute menace. That’s Bucky Barnes’ hoodie.”

Evie lifted her chin. “So it is.”

Jade fake-fanned herself. “Oh, my God. I leave you unsupervised for five minutes, and you’re out here stealing clothes off New York’s most eligible super soldier.”

Evie smirked, crossing her arms. “I didn’t steal anything off of them. It’s not my fault they just leave clothes lying around. In their bedrooms. On floors that I have access to.”

“Wait, did you say them? As in plural?” Jade clutched her heart. “I am so proud of you right now.”

The elevator dinged.

Evie grinned, looping an arm through Jade’s as they stepped out onto her floor. “Welcome home, baby.”

Jade sighed dramatically, already kicking off her shoes as they stepped inside.

“Holy shit, Eves,” She was breathless as she set her bags down and walked through Evie’s apartment. She took in the high ceilings, massive windows, and incredible skyline view. “Screw fake law school, I’m about to move in here and be your sugar baby. I’ll even call you daddy, swear.”

“Shut up,” Evie laughed, crossing her arms. 

“I’m not kidding,” Jade bounced up, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Laundry, breakfast in bed, I’ll treat ya real nice…” She planted a glossy kiss on Evie’s cheek, making her squeal and shove her aside. 

“Jade!” She giggled, wiping the gloss print off of her cheek. “First of all, you can’t cook for shit, otherwise maybe I’d be tempted. Second, we need to get ready. We have a party to attend tonight.” 

Jade froze and turned, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” 

An hour and a half later, Jade stood in front of Evie’s full-length mirror, tilting her head as she critically assessed the black dress she had just wiggled into.

“Okay, but does this say fun and flirty or I have committed fraud and I’m not afraid to do it again?”

Evie, finally finished with her makeup, flopped across her bed, took a lazy sip of wine and smirked. “It definitely says I lied my way into Harvard and will lie my way into your bed, too.”

Jade beamed. “Perfect.”

Evie giggled, rolling onto her stomach to grab the nearly full bottle of obscenely expensive wine from the nightstand. She tipped the bottle toward Jade’s glass, topping it off with an artistic flourish. “Drink up, baby. This bottle cost me way too much for us to even be considering drinking it.”

Jade snorted but took a sip anyway, immediately making a face. “Jesus Christ.”

Evie winced, tasting hers again. “Yeah, I know.”

Jade stared at the bottle. “This wine costs more than my rent. Why does it taste like ass?”

Evie groaned, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “I dunno. I saw a price tag with too many zeroes and thought surely this would be amazing for a special occasion such as this. Turns out, rich people are drinking garbage and convincing themselves they like it.”

Jade sighed. “Well, we gave it a shot.” She grabbed the nearly empty bottle of cheap tequila from the dresser instead, twisting off the cap with a flourish. “Let’s drink like the poor little peasants we are at heart.”

Evie grinned. “God bless America.”

Music played in the background, a Lana-filled playlist that was just loud enough to drown out their talking-over-each-other-catch-up but not loud enough to be a full-blown noise complaint.

Evi sat cross-legged on the bed, lazily twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she watched Jade attempt to curl her hair and take a tequila shot at the same time. It went about as well as expected.

Jade coughed, eyes watering, and set the shot glass down way too hard. “Jesus. Okay. Back to the important topic—”

Evie sighed, more for show than actual desire not to have this conversation. Jade spun to face her, eyes glinting. “THE SUPER SOLDIERS.”

“God, you’re relentless.” Evie groaned, rolling back onto the bed. 

Jade cackled, crawling onto the bed beside her. “Evie. You are living the dream scenario of every woman in America. Possibly the world.”

Evie tilted her head. “I don’t know. Chris Evans exists.”

Jade waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, he’s great. But Eves, you have Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes wrapped around your perfectly manicured little finger, and I need details.”

Evie examined her hand nonchalantly. “I did get a manicure yesterday.”

Jade gasped, grabbing Evie’s hand. “Oh, let me see—” She blinked. “Wait, don’t change the subject.” She snatched Evie’s phone off the bed. “I swear to God, if you’re not texting them right now, I’ll do it for you.”

Evie laughed, reaching for it, but Jade dodged out of reach. “Oh my God, give it back—”

“Not until you admit that you’re in deep,” Jade sing-songed, holding the phone above her head.

Evie flopped back onto the pillows, groaning. “Fine. Yes. They are distracting and annoying and entirely too good-looking for their own good. Happy?”

Jade beamed. “Extremely. I mean, seriously. How is it fair? One super soldier? Understandable. Two? That’s just greedy.”

Evie grinned. “Oh, it’s criminal.”

Jade shrieked, kicking at her before launching herself off the bed and grabbing her half finished tequila shot. “Okay, okay—real talk.” She downed the rest of  it like it was water, then pointed dramatically. “You like both of them, right?”

Evie sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. “Yes.”

Jade smirked. “And they both like you?”

Evie paused, picking at the hem of Bucky’s sweatshirt.

“…Yeah.”

“And they’re both going to be at this party tonight?” 

“Yep.”

Jade wiggled her brows. “Oh, this is so good.”

“Please, you’ll be so distracted with all of New York’s finest bachelors-and-otherwise to even pay attention to me.” Evie sipped her drink, pacing herself more than her friend.

“As if a girl can’t multitask,” Jade winked. “Now go get dressed, we have a party to attend.”

Evie laughed, checking her phone as she pushed off of the bed. 

A text from Bucky popped up: You seriously broke into our floor just to steal a hoodie?

A response from Evie: i like to keep things even.

She stretched her arm out and snapped a quick photo. Evie, cozy in the hoodie, sipping ridiculously expensive wine, legs bare.

A new message from Bucky popped up.

Bucky: Brat.

Evie laughed, delighted, as she texted back.

see you tonight. xo

Jade, watching intensely, grabbed Evie’s arm. “I love you so much.”

Evie grinned.

“I know.”

________

The Uber pulled away, tires crunching against the pavement as Evie and Jade stepped onto the curb, looking up at the blazing spectacle that was the Stark Tower penthouse. Even from the ground floor, the music was thumping, and through the massive glass windows, silhouettes of partygoers moved beneath the glow of chandeliers and flashing lights.

Jade let out a low whistle, tipping her chin up as she took it all in. “I’m sorry. What kind of party did you say this was?”

Evie smirked, shifting her clutch under her arm. “A Tony Stark party.”

Jade grinned, turning toward her. “So pure chaos?”

“Correct.”

Jade’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the entrance, where a small army of private security guards stood flanking the doors. She gestured toward them, deadpan. “Okay, but why is there actual security? This is a party full of Avengers.”

Evie sighed, looping her arm through Jade’s and tugging her toward the private entrance. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to worry about supervillains crashing the party—just drunken CEOs and foreign dignitaries who can’t hold their liquor.”

Jade snorted, glancing over her shoulder as one of the guards subtly reached up to press his comms earpiece. “Are we even cool enough to be here?”

Evie grinned, flashing her badge at the private scanner. “We don’t have to be. I have clearance.”

A soft beep sounded, and the doors slid open, leading them into a sleek, gold-lit private lobby with a direct elevator to the penthouse.

Jade’s eyes widened as they stepped inside, her head tilting up. “Holy shit.”

Evie laughed, hitting the button for the top floor.

Jade turned to her, eyes bright. “Dude. I have seen this building on the news since I was like, twelve.”

Evie grinned, linking arms with her again. “Yeah? You starstruck?”

Jade huffed, rolling her eyes. “A little. Not the point.” She turned to Evie suddenly, excitement creeping into her voice. “Wait—can I see your lab?”

Evie let out a mock gasp, placing a hand over her heart. “Not even through the front door yet and you’re already more interested in my tech than my actual presence? Wow. I feel so used.”

Jade grinned, leaning dramatically against the elevator wall. “Evie. Bestie. Love of my life. I am always interested in you. However, I also have an insatiable hunger for your cool science shit. Show me the lab.”

Evie laughed, shaking her head. “Later. After the party.”

Jade groaned, dramatically tilting her head back. “Fine. But only because I know you’re excited to see your boys.”

Evie arched a brow, immediately deflecting. “I’m actually far more concerned for Tony’s behavior if he has to wait much longer before seeing you.” She tilted her head, lips curving. “Considering this entire party is because of you.”

Jade blinked, flat expression not fooling either of them.

“…Oh, shit.”

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, spilling Evie and Jade into the chaos of a full-scale Stark Tower party. The atmosphere hit them instantly—low lighting pulsing in time with the bass, laughter threading through conversations over the sound of clinking glasses, the gleam of a champagne tower catching the light from the massive chandeliers overhead. The open-concept space was packed, a swirling mix of New York’s elite, SHIELD operatives, and Avengers alike, all seamlessly blending into Tony’s particular brand of organized debauchery.

Even from across the room, Evie felt their eyes on her.

Steve and Bucky had been mid-conversation, Steve nursing a drink, Bucky flicking a poker chip idly between his fingers, when she stepped in. Now, they both stood frozen, the air around them shifting in a way that only seemed to happen when they were together. Their focus was locked, unwavering. Desperate.

A slow, satisfied smile curled at the edges of Evie’s lips.

Oh, they were done for.

“Ready to meet them?” Evie murmured to Jade.

“They’re so much…bigger in person,” Jade said through her smile as she looked them up and down across the room.

Evie waggled her fingers in a lazy wave, biting back a smirk as she watched Bucky shift in his stance, his grip tightening around the chip until it snapped in half. Steve didn’t even blink. Didn’t move. Just held her gaze like he was waiting.

She took a step forward—

And got intercepted.

“Evie!” Tony’s voice was already in rare form: booming, slightly slurred, and laced with the unmistakable glee of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. His arm slung around her shoulders before she could even react. “Just the genius I was looking for.”

She sighed, less than amused, before glancing up at him. “Oh? I was under the impression you had other priorities tonight.”

Tony smirked, then looked beside her to where Jade stood, effortlessly elegant in her champagne-colored dress, watching them with her usual brand of sharp amusement. His grip on Evie tightened. “Ah, yes. My priorities have just materialized in front of me. Hello, Harvard.”

Jade tilted her head, feigning confusion. “I’m sorry, have we met? I feel like I know you from somewhere…”

Tony grinned, already enjoying himself. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe from your wildest dreams?”

Jade let out a soft hum, considering. “Mmm, no, that’s not it.” She tapped a manicured finger against her lips. “Wait—you’re that billionaire. What’s your name again?”

Tony’s brows lifted. “You wound me.”

Jade’s lips twitched. “Something industrial… Stock? Stork?”

Tony’s smirk widened. “Keep going, sweetheart. It’s getting better.”

Jade snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right—Stank.”

Evie snorted. Tony barked out a laugh, clearly eating it up. “God, you’re dangerous. I love it.” He looked at Evie. “I love her.”

Jade took a slow look around the room, feigning disinterest. “You should be careful about throwing that word around, Stark. A girl might think you mean it.”

Tony leaned in, his grin sharp. “And what if I do?”

The air between them crackled. Evie rolled her eyes. “Alright, well, I’m not third-wheeling whatever this is.”

Tony barely glanced at her, waving her off. “Yeah, yeah, go find your geriatric boyfriends.”

Evie shot him a glare over her shoulder. “I will.”

And she did.

As she wove her way through the crowd, she felt the air crackling the closer she got.

They didn’t say anything at first.

Steve stood straighter the second he saw her, like his body reacted before his brain caught up. He was holding a glass, but he hadn’t taken a sip. Bucky was still flipping the half of the poker chip between his fingers, eyes pinned to her.

Evie slowed as she approached, letting them look. She never shied from attention anyway, but but there was just something about the way they looked at her.

Steve cleared his throat, gaze flickering from her heels to her face and back again. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “You look beautiful.” Not flirtatious. Not teasing. Just… sincere. Sweet. Steve.

Evie blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Thank you,” she said, softer than intended.

Bucky hadn’t spoken yet, but his eyes lingered on her a little longer, flicking over her hair, the dip of her collarbone, the cut of her dress. He didn’t say anything at first. 

“I thought you were going to wear red,” he said finally, voice rough at the edges.

“I did.” Her lips curled, tilting her head.

Steve tilted his head, brow creasing as his eyes scanned down her black dress.

Evie leaned in ever so slightly. Lowered her voice. “Underneath, Captain.”

It took a full second for Steve to compute. Bucky’s hand flexed around the fragmented poker chip.

“You’re dangerous,” Steve murmured.

“That’s funny,” Evie said, tone brightening into a tease. “Coming from the two men who’ve been sending me texts that could land you in mountains of HR paperwork for a very long time.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched. “You started it.”

“I seem to remember something about a coat closet,” Steve added, voice lower now.

“Mmm. I did mention that,” Evie mused, stepping just a little closer. “Tell me, Captain. Did that make you blush?”

Steve’s jaw ticked. “A little.”

“And you?” she asked, turning her attention to Bucky. “Still thinking about that red lace?”

Bucky didn’t respond. He just reached behind him and set the poker chip down on the table—snapped clean in half again. “Every damn minute.”

Evie’s smile turned dangerous. “Well then,” she said, taking a small step back, just enough to give them a better look. “What are you going to do about it?” Evie lifted a brow, coy and composed—but her pulse was hammering.

Bucky took a half-step forward. Steve’s hand flexed at his side like he wanted to reach for her and couldn’t. The tension wrapped around all three of them like static; buzzing, bright, inevitable.

“Okay, absolutely not,” a voice cut in from behind her. “This is a family-friendly event—depending on your definition of ‘family’ and your tolerance for lawsuits.”

Tony. Again.

Evie exhaled sharply through her nose, already annoyed, but the sheer smugness in his voice made her slowly turn towards him, not bothering to mask her glare.

“Tony,” she said, biting the word.

He grinned. “Evie. Darling.”

“What the hell do you—”

Tony leaned in, voice lowering just for her. "Unless you want the entire party to watch you and America's Most Wanted devour each other with your eyes, I suggest you take a lap."

Evie narrowed her eyes. “And what if I want exactly that?”

Tony clucked his tongue and slung an arm around her shoulders like he owned the place. Which, unfortunately, he did. “Then I’d have to remind you that I’m technically your boss. And Pepper has not-so-gently reminded me that I can’t afford another PR firestorm this quarter.” He turned to Steve and Bucky, nodding once with the air of a man who’s been dragged into this mess against his will. “Gentlemen.”

Steve looked like he was desperately trying to remember how to breathe. Bucky looked like he was seconds from committing a violent crime.

“I hate you,” she muttered. “Where’s Jade?”

Tony gestured with his drink toward the other side of the room. Evie followed his gaze and nearly snorted. Across the party, Jade was leaning casually against a barstool, absolutely holding court with a senator who looked completely enraptured, hanging onto her every word.

Evie shook her head. “Of course.”

Tony hummed. “You think she’s talking about politics?”

Evie glanced at the way Jade’s lips curved as she spoke. The way the senator was nodding along, utterly transfixed.

She smirked. “Not a chance.”

Tony took a sip of his drink, watching. “I love her.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, get in line. Now what do you want? I know you have better things to do at this party than cockblock.”

Tony grinned, turning back to her. “I dunno, I just wanted to talk.” He slowly sipped his drink, clearly amused at her impatience. “Maybe to tell you that Leah Westbrook from Forbes is here, wanting to meet you and,” He nonchalantly swirled his drink, looking around the room as if he had all the time in the world. “Schedule a time to do a feature piece on Stark Industries’ newest prodigy?”

Evie blinked. Her irritation melted so fast it could’ve steamed off her skin. “What?!”

Tony smirked. “She said, and I quote, ‘I want to talk to the redhead in the black dress who made Tony Stark hire her twice.’ I assumed that was you.”

Evie clutched his arm, eyes wide. “You’re not messing with me?”

“Would I ever?” he said innocently. 

“Yes,” She scoffed, as though it were obvious.

“Well, I’m not. This is no joking matter. It’s very impressive, Red. I should know, I got my first Forbes feature at twenty-one. So, you know. You’re not too far behind.”

Evie scoffed. “You’re a nepo baby.”

“Rude, but not incorrect,” he said, shrugging. “Still counts.”

He took another sip of his drink, watching her practically vibrate with excitement. “She’s here with a few other reporters,” Tony added casually. “She said your latest patents have the tech world buzzing.’”

“Oh my god,” Evie whispered, bouncing slightly in her heels.

“Still mad I interrupted your very public verbal foreplay?”

“Yes,” she said sweetly. “But I’ll exact revenge after my cover story comes out.”

Tony chuckled. “You’re terrifying. I’m so proud.”

Evie threw her arms around him in a quick, excited hug; her excitement getting the best of her. “I know. Thank you. Thank you.” She spun on her heel. “Where’s Jade—Jade!”

Jade, still mid-conversation with the senator who looked visibly enchanted by her, looked over just in time for Evie to grab her by the wrist and yank her out of his orbit.

“We have a situation,” Evie hissed, fighting to keep her face neutral when her cheeks ached to break into a giddy smile.

“Is it a good situation or a blow-something-up situation?” Jade asked, already reaching for her clutch like she needed lip gloss either way.

“Forbes.” Evie squeaked. “There’s a woman here from Forbes. She wants to meet me.”

Jade blinked, jaw dropping. Then grinned. “Champagne. Immediately.”

“Yes.”

They both turned in perfect sync like a well-rehearsed heist team and started speed-walking toward the drinks table.

An hour later, the party was in full swing.

The music had shifted to something low and sultry, champagne was flowing like tap water, and the floor had split into loosely organized clumps: Stark Industries execs on one side, Avengers and their honorary members holding court on the other, an amalgamation of politicians, models, and professional athletes in between.

Evie stood near the balcony, half-listening to a perfectly pleasant but unmemorable CEO who’d introduced himself with some line about admiring her work. Though she would have bet her entire first years’ salary that he didn’t even know what she really did, she’d nodded, smiled politely, even laughed once—but her eyes kept drifting.

Steve and Bucky were holding position by the bar, where Natasha had stationed herself as the unofficial bartender. She wore a stunning green dress with a plunging neckline, and an expression that made people tip her without being asked.

The martini glass was cold against Evie’s palm, condensation dripping down the stem as she swirled the last remnants of the drink. She barely noticed.

Because across the room…

Steve and Bucky.

They looked good. Oh, so good.

While she stole another glance in their direction, another suit-clad business man joined them and the two began to drone on about stock options or quarterly earnings or some other meaningless nonsense. She tore her eyes away and forced herself to pretend to be engaged in the conversation in front of her, all the while committing the previous image to memory. Steve in a perfectly tailored navy suit, Bucky in all black, both leaning against the bar, sleeves rolled up, watching her just as much as she was watching them.

She should not be this affected.

Bucky lifted his glass to his lips, ice clinking softly, his blue eyes dragging down her frame at a pace that should have been criminal. Steve, beside him, was more subtle, but just as devastating. Jaw flexing, fingers drumming against the bar, like he was actively forcing himself to stay put.

They weren’t even hiding it.

Evie was losing her goddamn mind.

“…so as you can see, it’s a very exciting time for investors.”

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Who the hell were these guys?

She had stopped paying attention fully somewhere around his first mention of the economy.

Across the room, Bucky smirked. Steve glanced at him before leaning in to mutter something against the rim of his glass. Bucky huffed a quiet laugh. Evie bit her lip.

Enough.

She downed the last sip of her martini in one smooth motion, then, without even sparing a glance at the CEO, pressed the empty glass straight into his hand. He looked up from the conversation he was having, startled, but Evie was already turning.

“I’m gonna go, uh…yeah…goodbye.”

And then she was walking. Straight across the party. Straight to them. Straight to whatever she had been dying for since Saturday night.

She saw Bucky’s smirk widen. Saw Steve swallow hard. She reached them, didn’t even hesitate. One hand wrapped around Bucky’s wrist. The other hooked a finger through Steve’s belt loop. She pulled them. Not that she needed to, they followed instantly. 

Natasha blinked. “Well. Okay then.”

Wanda, who had quietly returned with a flute of champagne just in time to see it happen, tilted her head. “I knew it,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I said it last week, did I not?”

“You did,” Nat grinned, sipping her drink.

Wanda nodded toward the hallway Evie had just disappeared down, flanked by two super soldiers who looked ready to commit crimes. “Think we should warn the cleaning staff?”

Nat shook her head. “Just be glad you didn’t check a coat.”

The door shut with a quiet click.

Evie barely had time to register the dim lighting, the walls lined in luxury coats, the faint thud of bass from the party beyond before Bucky moved.

One step. Then another.

She backed up instinctively and collided with something solid. Warm.

Steve.

A sharp inhale.

Trapped.

“Going somewhere?” Steve’s voice was low, right against her ear.

Her breath hitched. Bucky stopped in front of her. “She’s been making those eyes all night,” he said, eyes dark. “Thought we weren’t gonna do something about it?”

Evie lifted her chin, heart racing. The heat between them was molten. “I was counting on it.”

That was all it took.

Steve moved first, his hand finding her jaw, tilting her face up and back towards his. His eyes searched hers, giving her just enough space to say no.

She didn’t.

He kissed her—hard. Like he’d been starving for it. Like he’d been counting down the days. Weeks. Maybe longer. His hand snaked up and cupped her jaw, turning her head and kissing her deeper.

Evie melted into it, her hand wrapping around his wrist, her breath catching in a little sound she didn’t mean to make.

In front of her, Bucky watched for exactly two seconds before stepping in.

His hands gripped her hips—hot and sure, metal and flesh—and then he was pulling her back against him, mouth finding her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her skin like he already knew every inch of her.

Steve broke the kiss just long enough to breathe.

Bucky didn’t wait.

He lifted her. Effortlessly. Pressed her between them, spine flush against Steve’s chest, thighs wrapped around Bucky’s waist.

“God, look at her,” Bucky muttered, voice rough, lips dragging along her collarbone. “You should see her face.”

Steve’s breath was shaky against her ear. “Fuck, Eves…”

Evie’s head tipped back, eyes fluttering. She was caged in completely: Steve’s arms wrapped low around her waist, Bucky holding her up like she weighed nothing, their hands finding skin like they’d been waiting for permission.

Steve kissed along her shoulder. Bucky’s fingers skimmed under the hem of her dress.

“Tell us to stop,” Steve murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.

She felt Bucky’s grin against her throat. Steve’s answering exhale was practically a growl.

They were absolutely— 100%— About to make a scene.

[ladylooch]

Surprises in Seattle - [Liv X Luca]

A/N: The way this took me forever to come up with an idea for... and then I wrote it in an hour and it was suddenly over 2k words... Writing is wild man. WILD! Thank you 🇧🇷 anon for the request. Sorry for how long this took.......... yikes!

Original Request: I would love for a small thing of Liv and Father in law Kev interacting, I think there's has to be funny moments between those two that will leave him laughing wildly and she getting soooo embarrassed!!!! 😂😂😂 - 🇧🇷

Word Count: 2.2k

Have fun tonight, baby. I’m so proud of you 😘

Liv reads off the text quickly while she finishes out the last curl of her hair. Once it’s set, she rips the plug out of the wall and hastily rushes out of the bathroom to grab her purse and jacket.

I wish you were here, babe. Good luck tonight! And be safe

Liv responds as she walks out of her hotel room. She double checks she has what she needs- key, purse, jacket, phone- then let’s the door close softly behind her. 

Tonight is a long anticipated night for Liv. It’s the first day of her second book tour. She’s doing a book signing at the cute, local bookshop across the street. This book tour is so much more chaotic for her because she self-published her second book. After all the issues she had with her previous team not seeing the same vision for the book, Liv quietly walked away from them. Truthfully, they let her go easily, not seeing much of a reason to fight her wishes. Fine with her. She knows what she is capable of. Never again is a board room full of people going to tell her what to do with her art.

She has Ryder to thank for that. Without his fierce belief in her years ago, she wouldn’t be where she is now. She’s thankful now that the past is in the past and they’ve all been able to move forward, especially with Ryder’s recent trade to the Kings. 

Liv’s black heels clack against the tile of the hotel lobby. She makes her way out the door, then falters slightly when she sees the line outside the bookstore. She bites her lip then quickly takes a picture to send to her fiancé. 

Baby, you’re so popular 😏,  he immediately texts back

You better not be texting and driving.

Oops. Love you! 

Liv rolls her eyes at her man’s worst habit. Then with confidence in her step, she crosses the street to the bookstore hosting her event. The crowd sees her step onto the sidewalk and they begin to clap for her. Liv gives them a huge smile, dimples out and proud, along with an enthusiastic wave.

“Thank you all for coming! I can’t wait to meet you!” She calls back to them, then slides into the bookstore. The owner, Lillianne, ushers her to a makeshift curtain room where she can sit in privacy until the event begins.

“Are you still okay with doing the Q&A before the signing?”

“Of course!” Liv confirms. She hopes there aren’t any awkward silences with fans not having anything to ask her. Otherwise, this long anticipated night is going to end quickly.

In another few minutes, the crowd is allowed into the store, bring noise into the normally quiet space. Liv does a few breathing exercises to settle the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. As a writer, she knows this is part of the job, but she still worried that her fans won’t like her. She would never want someone to come away from an interaction with her and be disappointed. 

From behind the curtain, Liv watches as people being to filter into the seating area. She wishes she had someone in the crowd for her today, but this is the only stop on her tour where she won’t be able to meet someone after. She has five more stops after this. Savannah is meeting her in Atlanta, her parents in NYC, Luca in L.A., Mack in Chicago, and Luca’s little sister, Lena, in Phoenix.

But tonight in Seattle, it’s only supposed to be her. 

Yet, when she steps onto the stage, the first person her eyes land on is Kevin Fiala in the front row. Her steps almost falter, but then she waves and continues forward. He cheers excitedly for her appearance and Liv can’t help but grin wider. 

Kevin’s presence helps ground her in confidence as she beings the Q&A. The thoughtfulness of their questions has Liv buzzing with excitement. They wonder about the main characters, her writing style, how this process was different from her first book. There are also questions about what it is like to date a professional athlete, how her and Luca have found a balance with their successful careers and of course, what is in the future.

“I think our biggest focus right now is this book tour for me. Then it’s back to hockeyland before we get married this coming summer.”

“Will you change your name!?” Someone shouts out without the microphone.

“Yeah, I think Livia Fiala has a great ring to it.” She grins. “But I’m not sure if I will change my pen name yet. It’s an ongoing discussion.” 

With that, the Q&A is finished and Liv begins to head off to the signing table, but not before a quick, rushed hug to Kevin.

“You’re here?!” She greets him.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiles. Liv gives him a grateful smile, then heads back behind the table. The next interaction she has with him is cheeky and adorable.

He proudly displays her cover to her in both hands, then taps her name at the bottom.

“Fiala will look much better than this.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my fiancé that. He will appreciate the support.” She chuckles. Kevin slides the book across the table to her. Liv blushes at how sweet it is of him to be here to support her AND buy a book he could easily get for free. “Should I make this out to anyone?”

“Yes, my son, Luca. L-U-C-A.” He jokingly spells out as Liv chomps down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing. She concentrates on the letters of her fiancé’s name. “He’s a huge fan of your work.” Liv’s mind immediately goes to how appreciative of her work Luca was before he took her to the airport this morning. Her giggle escapes and she looks back at Kevin brightly.

“Anything in particular you want me to say to him?”

“Please write: Your dad was my favorite Swiss hockey player growing up.”

“No.” Liv laughs immediately. “My dad would be crushed! And probably my uncle too…”

“Okay, okay.” Kevin concedes. “Hm, what would you want it to say?” He asks, quieter, more reflective. Liv contemplates then tilts down to write: 

I can’t wait to get home to you. I love you! XOXO Livy.

Liv finishes off with a heart after her name, then gently closes the book. She hands it to Kevin.

“He will love that.” He murmurs. “

“I think so.”

“Can I take you to dinner to celebrate?”

“I would really love that. Thank you.” Liv smiles at her future father-in-law. “I think your son would probably love a picture.”

“He would. Otherwise he is gonna think his mom signed this for him.” Liv belly laughs. She stands up next to Kevin, pointing and looking surprised for their selfie as Kevin grins next to her.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Fiala- Uh Meier.” He stutters. “Sorry, Fiala just sounds so natural for you.” Then he saunters away, leaving Liv giggling in his wake. 

Liv continues signing and engaging with fans. From the corner of her eye, she can see people divert to Kevin for a picture or autograph. He tentatively comes over to interrupt and asks if it is okay with her before he signs anything.

“Yes! Go for it!” She assures, but is truly touched that he wants to be sure the attention stays on her. 

Although he engages in some hockey talk, Liv can hear Kevin bring the conversation away from him and back to her work time and time again. He enthusiastically talks about her new book and characters, even speaking about his favorite scene towards the end. Liv is touched that he read it, and also a little embarrassed considering there is a smutty hot tub scene in the middle chapters. Her neck flushes as she thinks about the real life scenario with his son that inspired that. 

It is after 8pm by the time all the fans have been greeted and books signed. Liv reunites with Kevin for dinner. She requests they go to a bar to find the Kings game, knowing it’s a nationally televised game. 

“Luca scored the first goal.” Kevin fills in for her as she squints at the score. The Kings are up on the Flyers 2-1.

“Nice!” Liv murmurs, then drops her eyes to the menu. They both order and watch the game in relative silence, outside a comment or so about the game. It’s comfortable and appreciated after Liv just did so much conversing. Her energy is zapped.

“Did Luca put you up to this?” Liv finally asks after they have finished dinner. 

“No. He doesn’t know I’m here.” Kevin tells her. “But we were talking to him earlier this week and he did mention you were nervous about being here alone.” He takes a sip of water. “Your our daughter, Livy. If any of our kids were worried about something like this, Sam and I would be there to support them. So here I am. If Sam wasn’t sick, she would be here too.” Liv knows that. She bites her lip for a moment, feeling overcome with the emotions of the whole day. 

“Thank you. I’m really lucky.” She murmurs. 

“You also look very tired.”

“Yeah.” She starts to laugh.

Kevin grabs the bill from the waiter and pays it before Liv can get her hands on it.

“No kid of mine pays for dinner either.” He insists when she balks. 

“A lot of rules to being your kid. Somehow more than Timo Meier…” Liv teases. Kevin laughs. 

“You are lucky Emma is your mom. The Hischier in her balances everything out.” Liv nods. This is true.

“Are you leaving early tomorrow?” Liv asks as they step back out onto the street.

“I am here until noon.” 

“Great, then I’ll take you to breakfast before the airport.”

“Sure, but you’re not paying.” Kevin points a scolding finger at her, lowering his eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Liv affirms. 

As she snuggles into her hotel bed for the night, she sends a text to Luca seeing if he is home yet. His response is a FaceTime call.

“Hellooooo!” Luca cheers. “Oh! She’s in bed!” He grins. “Is this a sexy FaceTime?”

“No.” She says through a yawn. “I just called to say goodnight. I’m dead. And I have to meet your dad for breakfast tomorrow.”

“My dad?” He questions.

“Yeah, he showed up tonight. Bought a book and everything. Let me send you the picture.” She hears the ding and adores the instant smile when he looks it over on his screen.

“Wow, he’s so cool. I wanna be like him when I grow up.” Luca laughs as he takes something out of the microwave. “Pasta.” He shows her the bowl, then spoons a huge, steaming forkful into his mouth. “Hawt.” He huffs out. Liv can only shake her head. “That’s awesome that he came tho. I didn’t expect that. Was mom with him?”

“No, she is sick.” 

“Oh, damn. I bet that killed her not being able to come. Still cool that dad came alone though.” 

“Your dad called me his kid like all night. This one sweet older man came up to him and complimented him on raising me.” 

“I hope he corrected that.” Luca gives her a knowing look.

“He made sure to tell the man that he was the dad I always deserved but didn’t have growing up.” Luca barks out a laugh.

“You know he is going to text your dad that later.”

“Oh I’m sure he already has.” Liv chuckles. “But yeah, it was really nice. The night.. hearing that… having him show up for me. I feel really lucky to share your family with you.”

“My family loves you, baby. But nowhere near as much as I do.” He says softly. “I’m glad you had a good night. You deserve this success.” Liv lets his words soak into her skin. Before, she would have blushed and brushed that off, but Luca is right. She does deserve this. She’s worked and fought her ass off to get here. 

“Thank you. I miss you though. I wish there weren’t so many days before we see each other again.” She huffs. While Liv is going back to L.A. for the weekend, Luca will be heading out of town on a road trip. 

“I know, baby. I miss you too.” He murmurs, pushing his empty bowl across the counter. They stare at each other and as he always does, Luca knows her thoughts before she can fully think them. “We are okay.” He fills the silent worry she has that distance will stretch them too far again. “Two weeks is nothing for us.” He reminds her. She nods in assurance. 

He is right. Liv bites her bottom lip, then looks up at him with dewy eyes. Luca perks up from his slouch.

“This is a sexy FaceTime!!!!” He yells as he runs out of the kitchen, heading towards their bedroom. 

Liv smirks. 

He’s been so good to her, supportive and unwavering, he deserves a little bedtime show.

[astramthetaprime]

The Rising Tide

I believe I promised you all the second half of the opera.

Yes, I am ADHD. But more, I have also been “diagnosed” as Non-Verbal Learning Disorder, more shortly known as NVLD. I say “diagnosed” because the disorder is not listed in the DSM-5 and therefore one cannot actually be diagnosed with it. But there it is on the diagnosis, ADHD and NVLD.

With the Autism, I suppose it’s now AuDHD and NVLD.

I was somewhat prepared for the ADHD so that’s expected. But I’d never even heard of the NVLD. Upon first research I found I must reluctantly agree with it, as I cannot argue with the obvious. The name is somewhat misleading – I have never been “non-verbal” in the sense of unable to speak. It refers to difficulties in processing non-verbal social cues, facial expressions, social skills, visual spatial processing, mathmatical abilities, and fine motor coordination. More, it also involves advanced verbal intelligence – in other words, it accounts for my extensive vocabulary and my writing.

It’s been two weeks or so since the diagnosis. I’ve been mulling it over and trying to find more information. It hasn’t been easy as there appears to be little oriented toward late-diagnosed adults. I was encouraged to seek out a therapist. I’ve been trying to do that too but there’s this problem of having to work a full-time job. But I’m trying.

And then, ChattaCon happened.

Some things are just joy.

I re-connected with an old friend and cleared up a long-standing misunderstanding, and discovered she is more than I remembered.

I cried on another old friend’s shoulder, recounting how a cloak she made for me long ago helped me trek through the Blizzard of ‘93 in dashing medieval style.

My Dearest Friends (dang it, they deserve capital letters!) and I spent many an hour communing together in the ConSuite over free Diet Coke … ah, we are such lushes!

There were many wonderful panels and discussions regarding writing and science-fiction. One particularly interesting one was about creating religions for one’s stories, with a Pagan lady who has a degree in Divinity.

And of particular note, a panel on creating a fairy tale in which the participants contributed elements of the story that in turn inspired a beautiful artwork actually painted there at ChattaCon during the weekend. I contributed the idea of a comet streaking through the sky, which became both an omen and an alien starship! But of even greater wonder, the lady artist (Melissa Gay, see her work at www.melissagayart.com) had actually read my first book Machina Obscura! ZOUNDS! I gave her a copy of the unpublished sequel, Aquaria!

Of neverending wonder, I met many, many wonderful people and talked to so many of them.

And I made a decision.

I am going to submit at least two stories to first the Writers of the Future contest, and later Analog magazine and others.

I am coming to realize more and more how I am locked in a cage of my own making.

I feel like a bird beating itself to death against the bars of that cage.

I can’t be happy like this.

For the future, for the stars, I must try.

UPDATE: I’ve been waiting for my renewed Adderall prescription – as many of you may be aware, there is a “shortage” going on. I put it in quotes because it’s a shortage of dubious origin with the Drug Enforcement Agency, given Adderall and similar are heavily controlled due to being easily-abused stimulants. It’s been three weeks or so since my diagnosis and I’ve been waiting for the prescription to be filled with many a simmering resentment toward the DEA. But last night after my weekly D&D game with the Dearest Friends, I decided why not go check at the pharmacy. I did so, and a miracle happened! I HAVE ADDERALL! I took my first dose this morning, and the nearly immediate Amusing Result was I started feverishly going through my spice rack and throwing out expired stuff. So at about 9 AM this morning I was alternating furiously scratching my head from the itchies and checking dates on tiny bottles.

Also, I have determined that “polenta” is the Italian word for Grits.

[emilieautumnarchives]

Enchanted Living Interview

Original Link Last Accessed: 1/12/2025

Gather Ye Rosebuds Day with Pre-Raphaelite Sisters Emilie Autumn and Veronica Varlow By Carolyn Turgeon

Photography: Steve Parke Photography Assistant: Tedd Henn Location: Cloisters Castle in Baltimore, Maryland Hair: Nikki Verdecchia of NV Salon Collective MUA: Autumn Shae of NV Salon Collective Clothing: Edye Sanford; Bullseye Clothiers; Emily Kramer Designs; Angela Gavin from Milk & Ice Vintage; Trinket’s Costume and Sundry; personal items from Emilie Autumn, Veronica Varlow, and Kim Cross Instruments: loaned by John DuRant Box on cover: Sue Rawley

I wish all of you could have been there last summer in Baltimore, when I whisked BFFs Emilie Autumn and Veronica Varlow in all their glittering fabulousness from their hotel to NV Salon in the neighborhood of Hampden, where they got glammed up thoroughly enough to embody the spirits of Victorian supermodels Elizabeth Siddal and Jane Morris in our sumptuous cover shoot. As said glamming took place, Emilie gave us all the “trashy beauty parlor gossip,” as she calls it now, about Lizzie and Jane, “which is, I’m sure, what it was at the time they were living.” She told us about the “open affairs”—that is, the “loads of drug use, burned suicide notes, exhumed poetry (and wives), and glorified overactive thyroid glands.” What better way to spend an August morning?

Of course, Emilie knows plenty about these ladies and their time period, which fuels so much of her own art. And by her art I mean her writing, including her novel, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls, and of course her virtuoso violin playing, and the subjects she chooses to sing about—she has released four studio albums, including Opheliac (2006) and Fight Like a Girl (2012), and her worldwide concert tours have featured handmade Victorian-influenced costumes and elaborate, over-the-top stage shows including a troupe of corseted dancing girls, of which Varlow was one of the main attractions.

The shoot took place at Baltimore’s Cloisters Castle, where we lugged pots of roses, racks of clothing culled from various designers and vintage dealers, a few historical instruments, and a stack of inspiration photos I’d printed out the night before. While Emilie wasn’t Lizzie in every shot, and Veronica wasn’t only Jane Morris, they channeled those two superpowers while we scrambled to do as many shots as possible within a few hours, racing up and down those spiral stairs with pomegranates and apples, silver mirrors, old books of poetry, and an endless supply of scarves and dresses slung over our arms. The result is on these pages.

Below, we talk to Emilie more about all the above.

Enchanted Living: Can you tell us about your relationship with the 19th century? Why does this period resonate with you so much? Emilie Autumn: I’ve always felt that the 1800s are around Elizabethan or even 18th century portraits and think, This can’t possibly have been real—it’s like a fantasy world, or an alternate universe. But we can see ourselves in the Victorians. Certainly the fact that photography came into being during that time doesn’t hurt. But I think we can relate to that time of incredible social and political upheaval, technological invention, and, of course, industrial revolution, because it hasn’t stopped—we’re still in it, racing forward, hurtling onward and wondering what is going to become of it all. Essentially, the Western world became recognizable as the one we now inhabit, complete with the daring idea that we didn’t just hatch on the planet 6,000 years ago as fully developed humans.

So, if you’re a lover of history and a seeker of your roots, the 19th century is where you go to find yourself. If you’re an out-of-the-closet Anglophile like me—I’m full-blown British in my mind—who sincerely doesn’t understand why cravats can’t be an everyday thing, then it is Victorian England specifically. It’s close enough to identify with but far enough away to fantasize about. And that, I think, is precisely why it’s such a great world to tell stories in.

In my novel that really started the association between myself and  the Victorian era, the protagonist manifests an alter ego that lives in the Victorian world as a way to process what is going on in her own reality—a sort of therapy through escapism, something I’ve done since I was a child but taken to a literally psychotic extreme. And finally, I should say that it’s a fun world to play in if you have a wicked sensibility because there is a very dark underbelly to the corsets-and-tea-parties culture, as the novel illustrates—London was filthy, diseases were rampant, and women were considered subhuman and treated accordingly. There is little to glamorize, but that won’t stop us from trying and enjoying every minute of it.

EL: Why is this period relevant today? What overlaps do you see? EA: I suppose all periods are relevant if there is something still to be learned from them, and I do think there is much to learn, particularly from the areas in which we have not progressed nearly as far as we should have. My iPhone camera is amazing, but we are still a global patriarchy.

EL: Can you talk about this shoot? What did it mean to you? EA: I was truly honored to be asked to represent these iconic paintings. I have loved each of these works since childhood and modeled myself after them to a conspicuous degree for most of my teens and into my twenties. Lizzie Siddal is the reason I originally dyed my blonde hair red at sixteen, parted it in the middle, and proceeded to grow it down to my knees. I don’t believe that anyone who might know of me now is aware of that, so it’s fun to say out loud! This shoot was more than a fantasy come true, it was also a return to a more innocent version of myself, before the corsets and striped stockings and asylums, even if just for a day. It was good to see her again, and I think that a bit of her came back home with me. I am very grateful to Enchanted Living for that.

EL: Do you relate to the women of the Pre-Raphaelite movement? EA: What is so wild is that when I developed my Pre-Raphaelite obsession as a child, I had no inkling of the truly astonishing stories of these very real women—the world’s first supermodels, some have said—and what their particular kind of beauty meant. I didn’t know that they were very largely ill, extremely poor, and, in Lizzie’s case, fatally depressed. Having learned so much more about Lizzie since, I feel an overwhelming compassion for her. An artist and poet herself, she suffered horribly from mental illness, and it was either ignored or misunderstood to the point where she ended her earthly life at thirty-two. As the subject of mental health is such a dominating theme of most of my music and writing, the connection would be impossible to ignore, and I definitely tried to commune with her the day of our shoot. Not all of the paintings I was a part of re-creating were originally modeled by Lizzie, but she is the one I was channeling.

EL: You’ve written about poetic figures like the Lady of Shalott and Ophelia. What do they mean to you? EA: Well, the funny thing is that, in my song “Shalott” as well as “The Art of Suicide,” which of course alludes to Ophelia, though not by name, I was writing about Arthurian and Shakespearian characters respectively but was referencing the Victorian painted versions of them in particular. When I was much younger, my passions were medieval history and Shakespeare, and those are actually what drew me to the  Pre-Raphaelites in the first place—these Victorian men were painting the women I already loved. Isn’t that bizarre? I hadn’t even really put that all together until just now. I think that I was always drawn to the tragic stories when I was young because they reflected my own melancholy and mental issues but with flowery language and better hair. I saw myself in these characters—they were my pain beautified, and they gave me a gift, inspiring me to intentionally beautify what adversities would come to me as the years went on and life was lived. That is what I still do—it is the basis of my whole career, and it is also the best advice I can share with anyone struggling with anything. Find a way to turn this into art of any kind, because then it is transformed and nothing is wasted.

EL: Can you describe your relationship with Veronica and how you two worked together on your stage show? EA: The first time I met Veronica, I ran into her arms. We shared a Kit Kat bar and had a mutual vision of our past life where we had been married. (She was my husband and I was burned in a theatre fire, but that is another interview.) Veevers has taught me so much on stage and off, saved my life a few times, and has been a massive part of the best experiences of my entire recorded memory: singing and dancing together for thousands and thousands of beautiful people all over the world. I don’t even know where to go from there. There is love and then there is love. When I learned that we would be working on this ere both powerful muses and in the same tiny artistic circle but not exactly friends—for those who don’t know, Jane always had a thing for Lizzie’s husband, Rossetti, and after Lizzie killed herself, Jane finally got her man—I had this idea: What if some universal consciousness energy engineered this opportunity for these women to reconcile and to even become friends, knowing that they really were all in the same boat, in a really screwed up era, being told how to look and what to do (Get in this freezing bathtub, Lizzie!) just to eat. What if Veronica and I could offer these poor girls a little of our sisterhood? I hope they felt it. And I hope they’re friends. I bet they are.

EL: What does sisterhood mean to you? EA: Everything.

EL: What inspires you? EA: Theater. Watching people do things live and making an audience cry and plotting all the wicked ways in which I could do it. Sondheim lyrics. Watching people dance and thinking of how I could transform that movement into a sound and what instrument would it be. Backstage at Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. Sequins. The squirrels in Central Park. Untold stories.

EL: How do you stay enchanted in your everyday life? EA: I do my very best to exist in the present moment, knowing that the present moment is all there is and all there will ever be. When you begin to grasp this truly, every moment becomes precious and valuable and has potential for magic, because you become very, very grateful. And when you become grateful for life, life becomes grateful for you. If you take in the truth that every moment you experience took 13.8 billion years to create, it’s almost impossible not to feel the magic in that. Also, I don’t go on social media unless I’m posting something positive and then I get right the hell off again, and I don’t use my cell phone as an excuse to not look around at the world I am actually in. Oh, and I promise myself to never fall into the trap of believing that what is on the news represents what is important in the world. It almost never does.

EL: Can you tell us what you’re working on now? EA: Yes! First, I’ve just gotten in the second printing of my oracle deck called The Asylum Oracle. It is a truly magical spiritual tool that I created to help people (and myself) connect with their own internal wisdom to gain truth and insight,  with an emphasis on healing and transformation. What I love most is that each of the fifty cards has a sort of meditation that goes with it, an invitation to really enter another world to bring back the wisdom you need in this one. The Oracle can be found at asylumemporium.com. And second, I am in New York developing the epic musical production of The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls. I’m in the midst of orchestrations, and I’m about to go write some oboe parts. The show will be glorious and terrifying and magical, and anyone who wants to follow along with the process and peek behind the scenes is invited to join me on Instagram, where I post loads of the music as it comes together and so much more! (@emilieautumnofficial) This musical is the culmination of everything I’ve done or created up to this point, and I am so excited to share it. It will also be a gift to all the Plague Rats and Inmates who have been with me for so many years and have known and loved the story of the Asylum and made it their own. This show is for them.

[100vern]

get to know your mutuals ★ tag game

@glossdebut tagged me in this so long ago and i only just remembered last night. i am SO sorry, my beloved. tysm for tagging me.

what's the origin of your blog title? i want vernon to collab with 100 gecs

favorite fandoms: ah, i'm not sure? aside from this blog and fanfic, i am not super active in any other fandom spaces. but i have been spending most of my online time in a svt server and i have a severance server with my friends, so just those i guess.

OTP(s)/shipname: me and jin despite whatever delusions mj has

favorite color: dark green. black. baby pink.

favorite game: pokemon crystal. i haven't played it since i was a kid, but it's still my favorite video game ever. it's not even the best pokemon game ever but it is to me.

song stuck in your head: surprisingly there isn't one rn which is how i know i'm getting closer to the correct dosage of adderall

weirdest habit/trait? i can only use specific utensils but that's the neurodivergence, i think

hobbies: reading, writing, refinishing furniture/antiquing, rehabbing cats apparently

if you work, what's your profession? broadcast operations for tv/radio

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? mysterious english professor at a prestigious university that dresses like judy funnie

something you're good at: writing (i hope) <- keeping aqua's answer; rehabbing sick kittens, interior design i think?

something you're bad at: moving on from things that no longer serve me but are convenient (i am terrified of change), remembering to take my meds, putting my laundry away

something you love: the people in my life, cats, space age design, baseball, the city of philadelphia, tattoos, thunderstorms

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: right now it's all my severance theories. but also like aqua, early-mid 2000s bandom. politics but i don't dare.

something you hate: washing my hair but also how i feel when my hair is dirty

something you collect: photocards, but i haven't been super into it lately

something you forget: i have never forgotten a thing in my life (except taking my meds on time)

what's your love language? quality time

favorite movie/show: my favorite tv show of all time is psych, but i also love buffy, veronica mars, true detective (s1 only), lost, severance; movies - kiki's delivery service, home alone, a bunch of others i am forgetting bc i am not a huge movie person.

favorite food: i have never met a dumpling from any culture i haven't loved

favorite animal: cats

are you musical? hm. i'm gonna say maybe - i have taken instrument lessons throughout my life and was able to play and read music but i never stuck with them. my husband is a musician though so it kinda seeps in through osmosis. i know more about guitar pedals than i ever thought possible.

what were you like as a child? pre or post ptsd dlkfgjslg

favorite subject at school? in grade school it was always english and government classes (civics/world conflicts), but in college it was science. microbiology and infectious disease specifically.

least favorite subject? i liked math but i wasn't good at algebraic math (i am great at geometry and statistics tho). chemistry (took it 3 times in college lmfao). i also was not good at spanish but i nailed every other language class i took (french, italian, german).

what's your best character trait? i'm great in a crisis. nothing rattles me in the moment.

what's your worst character trait? i have no ambition dsdflksjg

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? my water bottle wouldn't be in the other room

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? ronald reagan. i just wanna talk.

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love): all you're giving me is friction (seokjin) by my most beloved @imnotshua

tagging: anyone who wants to! pls do this so i can be nosy and learn about u guys and not full like a burden by tagging people who may not want to be tagged <3

[icecream-and-gadreel]

Still Got it

Summary: Dean wants to prove that he's still got it, even after a particularly damaging hunt. 

Pairing: middle-aged!DeanxMiddle-aged!reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language, blood mention, lightly attempted sexy times, mention of violence

Word count: 900+

A/N: I was laying here thinking "Man, when's the last time I wrote some Deanxreader?" As an original Dean girl turned Gaddy girl, I had to write my wrongs. Here's the song I used in the fic. Enjoy!

Eternity squad: @mrswhozeewhatsis @sheinthatfandom

There's something so special about the sweet, sweet embrace of a bed after a long day. Warm blankets, soft pillowy surface, and –

“Fuck!” you wheeze as your stomach collides with the bed. You turn on your back, biting back a scream before turning onto your side. No relief. No goddamn relief no matter which way you turn. The one good and true constant, that being the comfort of your bed, is ruined because you just HAD to get thrown against a brick wall tonight. You remain stone in your place as the door to your motel opens, listening to the new thump-drag rhythm of Dean's walk. Honestly, it's a wonder his ankle didn't break during his reckless pursuit of the fiend that took a chunk out of your stomach. "So," you begin, grazing your fingers over the floss keeping your stomach wound shut, “That sucked,” you grumble against the pillow. Dean grunts in return, and you look up, watching as he fiddles with the TV.

“I hurt in places that I forgot existed,” he says as he flips through the channels.

“Lay down with me,” you coo, wincing as he turns to you. It's hard to say who got the worst of it. Yes, you're fucked up in your own right, but seeing just how messed up your boyfriend's face is makes your blood boil.

“What?” he asks, gesturing to himself. “Can't stand my ugly face?"

"Not ugly just...bloody," you say, clenching your teeth. 

“So I'm still hot?” he asks. You cock an eyebrow, slowly turning onto your back.

“They'd have to hack your face off with a cleaver to ruin that handsome mug,” you say, closing your eyes.

“Your horrifying compliments always get me goin',” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He flips through a few more channels before finally landing on a channel playing old music. “You know what? Prove it.”

“Huh?” You cock an eyebrow, watching as he slowly begins rocking back and forth. He unbuttons his pants, swaying his hips as he pulls them down his thighs. When he bends a bit too far, he lets out a pained wheeze, quickly kicking out of his pants.

“Show me just how hot I am,” he says through clenched teeth. You stifle your laughter as he slowly raises back to his full height with your eyes trained on his muscle-clad legs. Even after getting flung around like a rag doll, the man is gorgeous.

C'mon and hold me

Just like you told me 

You watch as Dean shimmies his shoulders, rolling your eyes as he passes you. He limps every step of the way, a hint of a wince crossing his face every time he puts weight on his foot. 

Then show me

What I want to know

Sucking in a deep breath, you lean up on wobbling arms, trying to hide your pained groan with a giggle. Your back throbs rhythmically, a gentle reminder of your bout with that damn vamp only hours ago. As Dean pulls his top off, you come back to the moment. You whistle, clapping your hands as he twirls the shirt over his head. “Wooo shake it!” you howl, gaining a wide grin from your boyfriend. He begins crawling up the bed, wincing as he rests an arm by the side of your head. Long scrapes coat his arms, different shades of purple and blue lining them “Come here baby,” you say, voice a near whisper.

Why don't we steal away

Why don't we steal away

Into the night

He begins slowly lowering down, the fatigue in his arms taking away any chance of him holding his own weight. In a split second, he's collapsing on you. The screams and groans coming from you both are sure to get neighbors complaining. Quickly, you push him off of you, and he rolls to the side, curling into himself with a stifled groan.

“I'm startin' to think I lost my mojo,” he says, chuckling breathlessly.

“Or we're getting too old to keep having our asses kicked,” you retort, gaining a look of faux shock in return.

“I'm aging just as good as Baby,” he grumbles, turning to you and pressing a kiss against your lips. He jerks his head away from you with a hiss, holding a hand over his split lip. “Almost as good," he adds in a whisper. 

“We just gotta buff out the dents,” you say, hand grazing over his cheek.

“You can't get enough of insulting the love of your life, can you?” he grumbles. Though you try, you can't stop the laughter from coming. He smiles in return, scooting closer to you with a huff. "Maybe I'll let Sammy go solo next time --" He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder -- "He's still young and spry," he adds groggily. 

"Hate to break it to you, but those luscious locks are starting to grey out," you say, rubbing a hand over Dean's shoulder. "So, maybe we all slow down a bit. Let the youngins do the leg work," you say. After a few moments of silence, you look down, a content smile spreading across your face. Dean's breathing slows, his body slumping against yours as sleep overtakes him. Though the weight of him on your shoulder makes your muscles scream for relief, you decide not to move him. 

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Orgasm Delay/Denial Masterlist

All The Weights In The World (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Dan doesn’t understand why being made fun of his dick size turns him on, it just does. Thankfully, he has Phil who doesn’t question it.

A Night to Remember (ao3) - Band_obsessed

Summary: It wasn’t like Dan hadn’t expected to wake up next to Phil, it’s just that he hadn’t expected to wake up and see Phil on top of him already half hard in his boxers, a vibrating cock ring in one hand and a devilish glint in his eye. An involuntary shiver ran down Dan’s spine as he thought about the last time they’d used them - a month ago - and honestly Dan had just assumed that Phil had forgotten about their stupid challenge and the cock rings.

A Small Problem - jilliancares

Summary: For some reason Dan Howell has never been able to come. Luckily, Phil is determined to help.

breathe and i’ll breathe (and i’m in love with you) (ao3) - Cadensaurus (orphan_account)

Summary: A series of one-shots in which we explore various kinks. Said chapters will include biting, dirty talk, blindfolds, rimming, orgasm control/orgasm denial, spanking and scratching, orders and obeying, handcuffs and leg cuffs, breath play, and wax play.

Don't Break Keys - Chastity Device (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: Dan and Phil bought a chastity device to spice up their (already quite kinky) sex life. And, well, Phil’s clumsiness isn’t always convenient, is it?

Give Me More (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Who knew a lazy morning full of fluff and cuddles could turn into edging and overstimulation so quickly.

Good Boy (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Dan is being a good little pet, so Phil decides to reward him.

I Was Serious - Edging (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: “If you touch yourself, you won’t be coming for a month, got it? Be a good boy and wait for me to come back.”

A while later...

“Dan?” “Hmm?” “You know I was serious about no coming for a month, right?”

Just A Toy (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: He takes whatever Phil gives him, because he loves being treated like nothing more than a toy to be used. And above all, he loves Phil. He’d do anything for Phil.

Not Until I Say - smuttysideblog

Summary: Phil walks in on Dan jacking off to fan fiction about Phil dominating him.

Out Of My Mind (ao3) - Profrock

Summary: “I want you to not come.”

Dan groaned, flexing his fingers uselessly. “That’s kind of what we’ve been doing for that past God-knows-how-long.”

“No,” Phil said, and Dan instinctively froze at the word. 

“I want to you not come until I say so on Saturday night.”

Dan’s eyes flew open, and his jaw dropped. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Phil kept his gaze steady on Dan. “Completely and totally serious.”

“Phil, it’s fucking Sunday.”

Please Don’t Tease - jilliancares

Summary: Dan can’t come until he begs, which he most certainly will not. 

Spit Roast (ao3) - anerdwithakoreanhaircut

Summary: Being fucked from behind whilst being fucked in the mouth, basically.

Sub Space (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne)

Summary: There’s only one person that Phil ever let's take control, and that’s Dan.

I originally accidentally tagged this major character death; there's no character death, just porn, but Phil sure as hell goes to heaven in this fic if you know what I mean.

Tentacles (ao3) - MickythePhanTrash

Summary: Prompt - ‘Hi! Could you maybe write something with tentacles and eggie's pls? That's my fave thing :3′ (I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this! but I hope you enjoy!)

unraveled (ao3) - symmetricdnp

Summary: Dan and Phil have a lazy day in and appreciate what they have, and Dan edges Phil for an hour.

[is-she-suffering]

29/04/2000 - KERRANG! MAGAZINE “New York Doll”

New York Doll

According to Courtney Love, Katie Jane Garside is the original Riot Grrl. According to her detractors, she’s a new age nutter with volatile tendencies. As her band prepares to storm the Big Apple, one thing’s certain - the QUEEN ADREENA frontwoman isn’t about to change for anyone…

“WE’RE ON a planet in the middle of infinity.” Katie Jane Garside observes, not unreasonably. “Nobody really knows what the hell is going on, but as long as I’m properly chewing on life, I’m okay. Happiness or sadness isn’t the point to me. That’s why it’s good to come to a place like New York. It keeps you right on the edge of creation. To realise your mortality is great.” Katie Jane is in New York with her band Queen Adreena to their first US gigs. The slender vocalist has certainly been chewing on life in the few hours since she arrived. Last night her performance mesmerised a 100-strong audience at Brownie’s club, after which the band moved on to a trendy, hole-in-the-wall bar in a rundown part of the city where a drunken Katie made such an arse of herself that she was put in a cab and sent back to her hotel by her bandmates. “I have no dignity today.” she croaks over a lunch of coffee and water in the Big Apple’s chic Paramount hotel. “I shredded it last night. When I’m drunk, to repress any of my urges seems like a crime against God. I can become quite dangerous to myself.”

IF YOU believe Courtney Love, Katie Jane Garside was the original Riot Grrl. In the early ‘90s, she fronted Daisy Chainsaw, whose screechy, punky rock was an innovation to Courtney and others. But there were problems. Because she didn’t write any of the songs, Garside left frustrated in Daisy Chainsaw. “I was unable to articulate myself,” she sighs. “It became a bottleneck of violence. I took it out on myself to a dangerous degree. That’s why I left. My silent witness, the one up there that sits by my right ear, just told me to out.” Spooked by the music business, she headed for the solitude of the Lake District where she stayed, along, for several months. “I went away to find what was at the bottom of the well,” she explains solemnly. “I had to be very quiet and far away from everything in order to hear something that wanted to speak to me. I just walked up and down mountains. That’s all I did. Walk and write and scream into the wind. It was very magical. When you subtract from your life, it creates an altered state just as drugs do by adding something. I was able to lost myself. On good days it was divine. I write from that place. It’s a personal mythology. It’s very real.”

She toys with the fake flower in her hair and gazing down at her feet. Momentarily, she’s lost. “Where am I going?” she questions herself. “Let me see…” A long pause. This happens often when Katie Jane Garside is grappling with a big idea like art or creation. She strives hard to be understood.

When she returned to London from the Lakes, Katie put a new group together with former Daisy Chainsaw guitarist Crispin Gray, plus drummer Billy Freedom, and tall, cross-dressing bassist Orson Wajih. Named Queen Adreena after a premonition of Katie’s, they have produced the most startling rock debut of the year in 'Taxidermy’, a record full of volatile emotions and uncommon beauty. “Music is the only thing that’s been consistent in my life,” Katie explains. “It’s been my sanctity, my lullaby that’s kept me same.”

KATIE JANE has never been like the other girls. As an army child, her adolescence was disrupted each time her father was posted to a new country. Always the new kid at school, Katie remembers: “I was very angry about something and I didn’t know what it was. I don’t think I was great to know.” Between 12 and 15 Katie’s family lived mostly on a boat in the Canary Islands and in the Caribbean. Now 31, her closest friend is her younger sister Mel, a singer-songwriter who also lives in London. “I don’t really know many people,” Katie shrugs. “I know my sister and usually about one other person at any given time. We’re very connected. In fact Mel and I are almost the same person.”

Katie feels the same way about the late Anais Nin, author of some of the most celebrated erotic writing of the 20th Century, although Katie prefers Nin’s journals to her erotica. “I love her,” Katie smiles. “Something strange happened to me when I read her. I met myself. You don’t often meet yourself. It gave me a lot of comfort. Her stuff is so timeless. Her diaries are extraordinary. She was really alive every minute of her life.”

DESCRIBED BY The Guardian as “a complicated heroine”, Katie Jane Garside is an unusual rock star. She gave up drugs, she says, because they got her into too much trouble. “I’m too open,” she confesses. “They’d finish me off.” In the past, Katie Jane has been written off as a nutter, but while many of the things she says will read like so much kooky new age nonsense in the pages of a rock magazine, when she speaks of the power of nature and her desire to be alone with it, there is a fire and a genuine belief in her clear eyes. “I’m very happy on my own,” she says.

“That makes it difficult to have any relationship with any sense of permanence, but it doesn’t make it difficult for me, it makes it difficult for them. It does make me sad, but I can’t be any other way. "My religion is nature. I’m at the mercy of it, and when I feel my best is when I feel most insignificant, when I become a grain of sand, nothing. That’s my religion. Everything is temporary. There is an omnipotence. I felt that in the most real way possible.” People hate me for saying things like that, but if you truly lose yourself there’s nothing that anyone can do to you. As soon as I see a no-go sign, I have to go there. “I’ve woken up and been God,” she says. “It was a long night when everything collapsed, and it wasn’t drug-induced. There is real magic. It’s something that manifests very visibly.”

ALL OF a sudden, Katie looks up. She has a story to tell. She thinks it probably won’t make sense if the story is printed, but she tells it in the hope that somebody will understand. “I was in a very difficult period of my life,” she reveals. “I was more frightened that I’ve ever been. I was walking on Hampstead Heath and I was singing to myself, and I looked up and saw a bird which I felt was looking right at me. "Then as I crossed over a bridge, this flock of birds descended on me. I was cloaked in it. I was crying and crying and this man was staring at me through this haze of birds. "This really happened,” she exclaims. “The God experience. I’m part of creation. I wasn’t born and I don’t die. I’m here forever. And in that moment the universe rushed to me and enveloped me and let me know that I’m not alone.”

[generalized-crowposting]

And here it is! The Prologue to

Hangman’s Joke

Crossposted on AO3 under the same title!

The members of Hangman’s Joke always seemed to connect beyond just playing music together. They supported and loved each other, and each other’s partners. When the news of Eric and Shelly’s murder reaches them, they’re devastated. They stay in the city and take care of Sarah as well as they can, but none have been able to find any sense of closure with the killers still on the loose.

~~~

This story is mostly going to pull from the 1994 movie, but there may be bits and pieces from the original comic and the 98-99 show The Crow: Stairway to Heaven. We’re going off of vibes here. If you like this and want to be tagged when future chapters go up, please let me know!

~~~

Prologue: Before the Storm

The band finished their final song of the night with a flourish. The crowd cheered as they took their bows and headed backstage. “That was fuckin’ amazing!” Tex hollered the moment they were out of sight. He side-hugged Eric, Nearly knocking him over.

Eric laughed, righting himself. “I don’t know how you’re always so energetic after killing it on drums every night, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t infectious!” He returned the hug before pulling away. He turned to the rest of the band. “You all did great! Where did that solo even come from, Moe? We gotta write that down!”

“Same place as yours and Brion’s on the song after! The energy was just right and we rocked it!” Moe grinned, slinging his guitar onto his back. “We’ll hash out the details for it at the next rehearsal. For now, let’s just relax and have a good time!”

They all burst into the lounge, laughing like madmen. “Shelly!” Eric and Gunnar shouted at the same time, noticing her waiting on the softer of the two couches. A set of cheap beers and cups of water were waiting on the table.

Shelly smiled and rushed over to the band. She gave each of them a quick kiss on the cheek, and Eric full on the lips. “Great show, boys! The crowd loved you!” She ushered them all into the room. Everyone quickly put their equipment away and piled onto the couches.

Gunnar flopped onto the other couch, this one was a poorly maintained but still comfortable leather. He grabbed one of the beers and raised it, “To another amazing night for Hangman’s Joke!” He said. His face split into a wide grin.

The band and Shelly followed the toast with a cheer. Tex was the last to grab a drink, and raised one of the waters to toast. The group spent a couple hours in the lounge, just talking and enjoying each other’s company. Eventually the time felt right to pack up their equipment and head home for the night. They all piled into Moe’s van. Tex sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Hey, my van, I drive!” Moe complained. He leaned against the driver’s side door to keep Tex from closing it on him.

Tex laughed, “Hey, I saw you drink the extra beer I left on the table, absolutely not!” He grinned, “Unless you want us all to sit around here on the street for an extra hour to make sure you don’t get us killed, I’m driving. This place is rough enough to drive through as it is.”

Moe grumbled but reluctantly let the door close. He crawled into the back seat, mumbling under his breath. Brion chuckled as he clambered over him. “C’mon, it’s not so bad, you get to sit back here and cuddle with me and the love birds!” He leaned over to let his head rest on Eric’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around Shelly.

Gunnar took his spot in the passenger seat. He immediately started fiddling with the radio dials to get a good station that wasn’t full of static. Tex began driving as the rock station they usually heard eventually crackled through the speakers. Gunnar let out a whoop and grinned back at the four people piled in the back seat. “And this is why I ride shotgun!” His voice was raised to be heard over the drum solo in the song that played. “You all look like a can of sardines!”

Shelly smiled back at him, petting Moe’s long hair gently as he laid across the other three’s laps. “I’d say we’re pretty happy for sardines, but I guess that’s why no one argues with you for shotgun. That and no one else seems to be able to get that damned radio to work as quick as you.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the front, smiling at the other’s antics. “You’re probably right. I’m sure one of you could learn this thing’s quirks eventually.” He said. As if to prove his point, he smacked the dash above the radio and the static cleared up a bit more. “Y’know, I’d offer to drive on occasion too if Moe wouldn’t mope every time someone other than him drives!” His wide smile burst into a fit of laughter that nearly knocked his sunglasses off the top of his head as Moe sat up with a huff.

“I am not moping! I’m- I’m” he looked to the others for help. Eric did his best to hide his snicker behind Shelly’s curly hair. Shelly raised her hands in a gesture of ‘I’m staying out of this,’ though the amused glint in her eye told a different story.

Brion didn’t care to hide his bright laugh “You’re definitely kind of moping there, Mr. Devious!” He said, gently ribbing him on his rockstar name choice.

“Hey now, you have no room to use my name like that, Brion! You could’ve picked anything but you decide keep Brion!” Moe laughed, jumping at the opportunity to change the subject from his definitely-not-moping.

Shelly sighed and put her hands down, setting one on each of their legs. “Alright you two, cut that out! No arguing in the van. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire!” She grinned as she pushed them apart playfully. Brion’s glasses ended up a little crooked, but she quickly helped him fix them.

The van pulled through the Detroit streets, dodging trash piled up on the side of the road and cars parked where they shouldn’t be. The seemingly ever-present light rain made the already poorly maintained streets look more like rivers. Despite the dreary state of the city, the inside of the van was filled with joy. They joked and sang along with the radio, delighting in each other’s company. Gunnar and Brion kept the happy attitude as they ducked out of the vehicle and into their apartment, which was the closest to the club. When they got to their stop, Eric and Shelly kept the goodbye going a little longer. They stayed in the back and sang along with the radio for a couple more songs with Tex and Moe.

“Hey, why don’t you two just crash with us for the night?” Eric said as the song faded out. He and Shelly crawled out of the back seat. He held part of his jacket over her head to keep her dry as they both leaned into the passenger side window. “The loft might be small, but it’s a hell of a lot better than that tiny hole in the wall you’ve got.”

Tex grinned, turning off the engine and tossing the keys into Moe’s lap. “You don’t gotta ask me twice!” He ducked out of the van. “Help me get the equipment up your rickety staircase, though. Like hell am I leaving it out here.” He began grabbing bits of his drum kit.

Moe gently shut the van door behind him as he got out. He swung his keys around his finger once before tucking them into his pocket. “If my van gets broken into, you three are covering repairs.” He picked up his guitar case and an amp and headed to the door. The others followed suit, grabbing their things and heading up the stairs.

Shelly set down the cases she’d been carrying and unlocked the door. She picked them back up and walked in, holding the door open for the three boys. Gabriel trotted up to them, meowing gently and immediately rubbing up against their legs. They quickly began putting their heavy armfuls down near the door. A noise from the couch caused them all to freeze and snap their gazes toward it. They breathed a sigh of relief as they saw who it was.

Sarah stretched as she sat up. The couch blanket fell off from where she had been sleeping. “Sorry guys, didn’t mean to startle you.” She yawned. She got up and made her way over to the group, hugging Shelly first, then pulling everyone in. “Mom locked the door on me again..”

Eric frowned. As they all pulled away from the hug he crouched down to be eye level with her. “It’s alright, we got you a spare key for a reason. We’re sorry for waking you.” He gave her another hug and smiled. He turned to the rest of the group as he let Sarah out of the hug.

Moe reached out ruffled Sarah’s hair, “Looks like we’re having a nice big sleepover tonight.” He made his way over to the couch and collapsed. It creaked at the sudden weight, but no one paid it any mind. There were always quirks to secondhand furniture. Tex and Sarah followed him over. Sarah taking up a perch on the arm of the couch despite there being plenty of room for her on the cushions.

Tex lightly rolled his eyes. “Y’know, you don’t have to be up there on our account.” He smiled with a mischievous glint in his eye. “It can’t be that comfortable up there.”

Sarah let out a loud laugh, “Hah!” She adjusted her position on the arm to be more stable, “I am not getting lost in a cuddle pile again! The moment I sit down there, Shelly will come sit down. Then Eric will think he’s hilarious when he lays across all of our laps like a big puppy!” She shot a glance at Eric.

Eric, for his part, was doing his best to hide his laughter. “Damn, we’re getting predictable!” He couldn’t stop himself from laughing for long and it escaped in a gentle chuckle. “Guess we’ll have to change it up.” He made a face like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. “When was the last time any of us made a pillow fort?”

The room exploded into bright laughter. “A pillow fort? What are we, five?” Moe said once he’d gotten ahold of his laughter. “Do you even have enough chairs and blankets for that?” He glanced around at the room and its sparse furniture.

“I’ve never even made a blanket fort!” Sarah said, still giggling. For the second time that night, everyone in the room’s eyes snapped toward her. Eric and Moe did their best to hide their surprise so that she wouldn’t feel like the odd one out.

Shelly and Tex couldn’t hide it and gasped, “What?!” They looked to each other, then back to Sarah. “Oh no, we’re absolutely doing this.” Shelly said, practically launching herself over to the bed. She quickly began gathering blankets.

Tex stared at Sarah for a moment more before shaking his head, “You are not getting all the way through being a kid without making a pillow fort. Not on my watch!” He stood up from the couch and scooped Sarah up in a quick bear hug before setting her down. “C’mon, help me find stuff we can use as supports!”

Sarah slowly followed Tex over to the round dining table, or at least what was supposed to be a dining table. Photos of the band and pieced together camera equipment covered every available bit of space on it. Sarah picked up one from the top of the pile. In the picture, Eric sat on top of Moe’s van. He was caught mid laugh as the rest of the band stared up at him. They all looked just as happy as Eric did. “Hey Shelly!” She shouted, turning toward the bed, “Where do you want your pictures if we need to use the table?” She set the photo back down with the others and smiled.

“There should be a couple drawers in the vanity.” She said. She put the blankets down and made her way over. She began gathering the mess into semi-organized piles. “Here, let me get those. You focus on designing the fort.”

Tex grabbed one of the two rickety chairs from beside the table and placed it so that its back faced the back of the couch. “Could you grab the other one for me?” He adjusted the placement of the chair so there was a little more space.

Sarah nodded. She dragged the other mismatched chair over and put it in the same position on the other side of the couch. “Like that?” She looked at Tex with a small smirk.

Tex nodded, “That’s perfect.” He looked around. “Moe, make yourself useful and grab stuff to weigh the blankets down with.” He pulled the couch blanket out from under him.

“Hey!” He said indignantly. He stood up, shaking his head, “I was using that!” He sighed and moved over to the bookshelf. “Eric, do you care which books I grab?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he began to grab the ones that looked heaviest.

Eric looked up from where he had been gathering the blankets Shelly had dropped. “Not really. The only ones I would worry about aren’t heavy enough to work.” He chuckled. “This is probably the most lighthearted thing that poetry’s been used for in a while, though.” He finished gathering the blankets and dropped them on the couch.

Sarah grabbed one of the blankets, “Alright, let’s see what you’re all fussing about.” She draped it from the back of the couch over to one of the dining chairs and held it there. Moe placed a book on each side of the blanket and Sarah released. It shifted a bit, but stayed.

Tex grinned. “And the first blanket is placed! The fort begins!” He laughed as he grabbed a different blanket and mirrored its placement to her’s. He made them overlap a bit so the ceiling of the fort wouldn’t have gaps. The middle sagged a little bit, but it held. “That’s the easy bit.”

Shelly finished putting away the photos and equipment from the table and looked over to the partially constructed fort. “Looks like it’s coming along well!” She walked over and stood next to Sarah. “Do you still want to use the table? I’m not sure we have a blanket big enough to cover it and hang down as far as those two.”

Sarah grinned, “I’ve got an idea.” She turned to Eric and Tex, “Drag the table over here.” She pointed between the two chairs. “Put it closer to this wall in line with the middle of these two.”

The guys jumped into action. Between the two of them, they lifted the old wooden table off of the floor. They carried it and placed it where Sarah had indicated without scraping it on the ground at all. “Does that look good?” Eric asked as they set the table down.

Sarah nodded, “Perfect!” She said, her aloof teen act cracking a bit. She grabbed two of the remaining blankets and laid them out on the table, each covering half. Moe, immediately catching onto her plan, weighed down the blankets in the middle and at both edges of the table where they met. Sarah grinned, seeing her little plan work perfectly. She grabbed a third blanket and tucked it under the book closest to the chairs. All three blankets slipped a bit. She frowned. “I think we need a bit more weight here.”

Moe quickly set a second, bigger book on top of the first. He corrected where the blankets had gotten out of place. “I’m starting to run out of weights here.” He stepped back and held up last two books that he’d grabbed, one in each hand, to prove his point.

Shelly smiled “I think that should be plenty.” She pulled one edge of the blanket attached to the table and held it to the seat of the chair. “We’re almost out of blankets anyway.” She said, taking the book from Moe’s left hand and weighing down the side.

Eric mirrored her action with the other chair. “That looks pretty damn good.” He said as he stepped back from it. He grabbed pulled a cushion off the couch carefully to make sure the fort stayed up. He then turned to Sarah and handed it to her. “It’s your fort, so you’ve got to be the first one in.”

She laughed and grabbed the cushion. Shelly pulled one of the blanket flaps aside for her as she crawled in. Everyone else quickly grabbed various cushions and pillows and made their way inside. “Y’know, it’s surprisingly roomy!” Sarah laughed from her spot under the table.

They spent quite a while in the fort, all of them reveling in the mild absurdity of the situation. They talked and laughed even as cloudy morning light began to filter through the large round window. One by one they began to drift off, no one having the heart to wake them once they passed out. Eric was the last awake. He smiled at the pile and lay down in between Shelly and Tex. Soon enough, he slipped into a peaceful sleep himself.

[iviarellereads]

Wheel of Time full series spoiler thoughts on EOTW 29-38

A probably semi-regular weekly bonus to my reread blog, since sometimes you realize things on reread that just make you need to yell in a full spoiler space.

It's really fun to look back at the stedding as, oh, this is literally a little piece of another dimension. It might've grown the local seeds and supported the local animals, but it is obviously disconnected from the local reality, to block the One Power and all.

So many references to Hawkwing sending armies across the sea, and yet nobody really believes it, or expects the Return.

The farmer gave Rand the dark, plain scarf… and then Rand wears it around his mouth… almost like a… black veil on this Aielman… OK that's a bit too much ellipsis for me to keep going but I had to squint and see if the words really meant what I thought they did.

In Play For Your Supper, one of the songs Rand names is "Coming Home From Tarwin's Gap", now how would a name like that have made it as far as the 2 Rivs?

Rand starts having little thoughts on the road that he can't quite track the source of. "Too late now." in Four Kings, for example. LTT starting to slip in. Or the taint madness, if you prefer that explanation for the hallucinations. Either way.

Ishy treating oblivion as a reward. Cute.

I feel kinda sneaky putting Mili Skane's name down in ch 33. It's kind of a spoiler, we're not told it, but I like tagging the characters that appear, for future searchability. If she ALSO appears later in the series, well, I wasn't lying about the Companion entry.

Almen Bunt reminded me that Elayne's kids could have a stronger claim to the throne than she did, because of the bloodliney shit Andoran nobles use to measure their kin-distance from the first queen, but only if everyone involved admitted Rand's lineage publicly. And, only because it was Rand's body that she conceived with.

Which gets me on to how weird and icky the Moridin body swap is, because besides everything else, we don't talk enough about how the Dark One resurrected Ishy as Moridin into somebody else's corpse, that body's original soul had his own family and life, and first the DO took it to punish Ishy with continued existence, and THEN Moridin and Rand swapped balefires and then bodies so Rand's in some completely random dude's face and genes.

(I only had about 5.5 hours of sleep last night as I write this, can you tell?)

At any rate, EOTW 34 cracks things wide open for any show-firstie who looks at the X-Ray feature or the episode credits. Episode 1x07 lists Tigraine Mantear instead of Shaiel, so when the first season was finished, seeing so many people go back and start reading the books and be like, well hold on now… That was precious and priceless to witness.

“The Queen is wed to the land,” Thom said as brightly colored balls danced in a circle, “but the Dragon . . . the Dragon is one with the land, and the land is one with the Dragon.” For this to appear here, with Almen Bunt, when his next appearance is just after Zen Rand emerges and the Dragon is one enough with the land to offer a bounty of apples from the orchard on Bunt's sister's farm… Same chapter, same day, still sleep deprived, and I need a moment to just sit in this feeling of beautiful symmetry.

No doubt I'll come back to it when the quote comes up, but: Thom was twice Morgase's age when they were together. Given the dates we have as long as the Fandom.wiki is properly sourced because I don't want to go doing extra digging in the Companion and stuff, that means that 14 years ago, Morgase was 27 and Thom somewhere in the 50-60 range, 55 being a solid guess, putting her at 41 and him at 68 around the start of the series. I'm still very, very glad the show agreed with me that there was no need of him being so old, especially when his love interests skew so young, Mo being the exception but she still looks young.

So much of chapter 36 is just "yep, setup." I daren't even start listing or we'll be here all day and this post will be much longer than I try to keep them, even for two-weekers when the first week's not quite long enough to justify a post. But the one that gets me is Rand finding it funny, the idea of him wanting to be a king, when he will end up the de facto ruler of a decent chunk of the Westlands.

37 and 38 do little in the way of setup but to continue setting up just how much Byar's gonna nurse that grudge for the next 12 books or two years. Well, that and finally showing Perrin's golden eyes. Mo asks if this was foretold, and well, we know it was… just not in a prophecy she'd have seen. Verin has, though.

I will say, I prefer how Egg and Perrin rescued themselves in the show, even if the wolf stuff maybe could have been moved forward into season 1 to make it make a little more sense to show-onlys.

And, do we think Mo was Warder-compelling Lan not to go after Nyn? Or just reminding him that it's out of character and out of keeping with his guiding principles? I'd like to think Mo treats Lan better, BUT she does hand off his bond to Myrelle without telling him later soooo…

[enbypackinthic]

Fun from my Reddit pages

Had fun with both my partner and exboyfriend over a previous weekend , this is some irl events , it is also pulled from my Reddit page where I originally posted it. I did modified some of the writing due to me and one of the individuals no longer being in a relationship (he’s still a hella good person and overall good human)

Lemme say this first, I’m non-binary and a dom/top/breeder in the kink scene. My partner is trans masc non-binary, my exboyfriend is also trans as well. This is also an open/ polyamorous relationship. I feel this needs to be established first before I dive into what all transpired the other week. Respect everyone here is all I ask, not much to ask in that regard. Also for fellow gays that might be triggered by certain terms used here, here’s a quick warning ahead of time before you head.

The fun of the other week started on previous night where me and my partner were just being our natural slutty selves , he was on the start of a long much needed vacation from work and it was nice seeing him more throughout the day. He and I started to get horny and touchy and started things in the shower. He was on the last day of his cycle of the month and I wanted to breed his pussy and feel on his body. I had him in the shower and brought our fav little vibrator in with us and started using it on his clit while I played with his chest(lemme mention this now he doesn’t care for terms for his private parts). Groping his breasts and sucking on his perfectly sized nipples while toying with him always sends his mind going blank. Reaching down and feeling his pussy, he was already so wet and ready for my cock and I bent this twinky little whore of mine over and pushed my cock in his tight little pussy while I stared at his untouched asshole. Letting him hold the vibrator while I gripped his small little frame, I proceeded to pound that boy into submission while he tried to stay standing. Listening to him call me daddy and praising my cock would send anyone over the edge of no return. I pulled out of his pussy , while pulling back on his hair to bring his head next to mine and told him to get out and get in the bedroom. He whimpered and hurried as I took time to wash for a minute. Got in our room , locked the door and told him to lay down and hold those fucking legs of his up for me so I can watch that pussy of his take my thick cock. For the next 30 mins I was pounding all my frustration into this pussy that I was denied of for two weeks(he was sick followed by his period). His soft moans mixed with his loud scream and creaky bed made for the perfect symphony to our neighbors in my opinion. He started cumming on my cock while begging me to breed his slutty pathetic body to which I obliged and slammed my cock hard into him flooding his womb while he let out a loud scream. He became very overstimulated, and I pulled out and cleaned him up and gave him lots of cuddles and aftercare.

Now the next day starts off with me and the exboyfriend finally getting to have some private time for us. He’s not on T yet nor is taking any birth control so he brought condoms with him. I wasn’t expecting us to actually fuck yet. I’m the first person with a real dick that they’ve been with. We were cuddling in bed for a little bit , before stripping him naked and touching on his soft tiny frame. He’s under 5ft and has a nice thick round ass and nice average chest. We were kissing intensely while I was feeling his lovely chest and causing him the cutest little moans. I worked my lips all over his body and left hickeys and marks on him to let everyone know who he belongs to. His chest honestly even though I say my partner has the perfect pair, I gotta give the edge to my boyfriend. His breasts just so nice and full c cups that honestly I can feel, suck, and fuck for hours if he let me. At this point I was working my mouth on his pussy while watching him immediately get overwhelmed. Had to stop multiple times for him to catch his breathe, which is fine , I prefer him to have the best experience versus having any problems or concerns. He was begging me to give him my cock, which lemme tell you , is the cutest thing ever and the biggest turn on for me. He saw my cock and was a little nervous by how thick I was. I slid the condom on and well thank god it didn’t break somehow. I pushed my cock to his entrance and eased in till I was fully in him(this had to be the tightest hole I’ve ever been in) and stayed still for a little bit while he got used to my size. I started to fuck him slowly and having him run his hands across my chest and legs while I pumped his pussy. He didn’t last too long which was fine, we both just enjoyed the feeling of being connected with eachother. We stayed naked for a while and cuddled and talked for a couple hours before he had to go.

A day and a half later I had the exboyfriend over for bulk of the day , my partner was out for the day/night to handle irl stuff unrelated to anything. So I had my good boy bring himself over in just pjs , no undies or anything to contain himself , we didn’t wait long at all till we started fucking , the first condom we used broke and didn’t notice till I started seeing the condom fully just at my base and feeling his pussy with my bare cock(fuckkkkk it felt so good) (until we get to the point where he’s fine with bareback, I can wait). I had him at one point just jerking my cock off with his small hands while I fingered him. Fast forwarding because I would be here forever texting this, we fucked three times and cuddled and had dinner before I had to drop him back off at his apartment. The third session ended with me pinning him and telling him I’m gonna breed that tight pussy of his and feeling him tightening his grip around my cock as I came and filled that condom inside him.