#it was so fucking difficult to make appointments for driving lessons

[azureblooet]

Ok bitches its fucking time:

LAMB HEADCANNON TIME:

(I separated these into rough catagories cause I have a lot for them and some require me to explain my lore headcannons)

==

General stuff:

Enby obviously (they/them)

Very much a people person

i mean they do run a cult so yeah

Didn't ever do the cannibalism thing (i mean mechanically it doesn't really do anything helpful)

Still needs to eat, but feeds more on the actual devotion rather than normal food.

Like the crown isn’t just bottomless power it still needs to eat devotion

This makes more sense with context of the magic system i have for my headcanons

though giving their body actual fuel to keep itself running means they don't have to sustain it with magic so they still eat

Actually snacks a lot due to both previous food insecurity and to keep their energy up

Also the leader having food preferences is like a point of connection for the cult (more info in the cult section)

They do a little happy single clap thing, like sort of resembling prayer but still fiddles with stuff

Cult:

Tries to make their followers pretty self-sufficient due to their absense during crusades, so they have actual leaders they’ve appointed, they also do sermons while The Lamb is gone.

Notably is praised for being a “god who knows mortal fear and hunger”

Generally has the message of “yo the bishops suck and we all got screwed over by the gods, I’m a god who is also a mortal so I’m different”

Before The Lamb dethroned Narinder him also being screwed over by the gods was a big part of his thing in the theology

Narinder thought this was stupid back at the gateway but the people actually liking The Lamb instead of fearing them makes their devotion a lot stronger

It also FEELS better for The Lamb who has felt a LOT of fear for the gods to be critical of the gods

This also means The Lamb getting sick or something isn’t a big sign of weakness and is more of a “I’m in this with you” type thing.

Nari’s whole “god of death” thing was him being like “the inevitable end of all” and everyone being his in the end whereas The Lamb is more of a “transience is an inevitable part of the world and that makes our lives beautiful” kind of thing

Like the whole “may mortal strife drive us to grow and reach new heights” “take solace as our death unites us all”

This is partially influenced by the beliefs the lambs had with the philosophy of “everything is connected” but also makes people less afraid of death so y’know

The cult’s beliefs and culture is heavily influenced by the lambs for festivals and decoration and iconography (talk a bit more about that in the lambs’s section)

Called “The Lamb” or just “Lamb” by people closer to them but is normally referred to as “Leader”

The Lamb couldn't read at first and had to have followers teach them

Thankfully one of the first followers was a nice librarian lady who is highkey their mom/grandma. Brought her back a few times before getting her gold skulls

She’s a deer, she sort of has fannon shamura vibes? Like that high insight and ability to read people’s emotions

She also highkey parents Narinder too but he’d never admit that

Kinda like dst Wickerbottom? (If you know you know)

Im working on the name, but she’s “Selene” in my notes

Regardless, The Lamb learned to read from her, and teaching literacy is basically her job at the cult

cause of the whole cults thing someone being illiterate is actually pretty common so it's not just kids getting lessons.

The cult grows a lot of cotton cause of The Lamb

Both as a symbol and because of clothes fabric and yarn being important objects of worship

The Lamb is difficult to *scare* but pretty easy to startle as long as you’re quiet.

The lambs/sheep:

Note: I don’t capitalize the word lamb when it isn’t a name for The Lamb

The lambs lived a bit outside of bishops’ real territory so they largely had their own culture and religion

They believed in “strings of fate” and a sort of “everything is tied together and part of a bigger thing”

Yeah like wool and fabric.

Theres more to it than that but that's a factor

Wool yarn and clothes were a big export for them but they were working with other plant fibers too so all types of string were everywhere.

Because of how much string and fabric they’d end up having and how good the textile trade was they had the resources to have a lot of festivals. Be it for seasons, shearing times obvi, cool space/astronomy stuff, whatever.

They didn't really have a church per-say but they had little shrines for like paying respects to nature and the “strings” of fate which tie everyone together.

Complicated braided lanyard type things are sort of “holy” symbols.

Sort of like a rosary?

they didn't have a reigning crown and had just an actual normal-ass town for the most part

Regardless the spiritual and religious stuff was more to justify making things and having festivals.

They’d tie different colored strings and little banners to stuff for festivals and stuff

Dangly bits and tiny puffy ornaments galore.

They did some magic, but it wasn’t much of a priority, it normally was things like little woven charms, protection spells, and maybe the odd glowy ribbon or fireproof coat.

Like they had some thaumaturges and witch doctors to deal with curses and magic injuries but they didn’t have a big faction of magic users

Reguardless! All of this matters because The Lamb makes little fabric dolls and swears about threads and ties and junk.

“ties above!” “ohhhh my fucking strings give me patience…” “oh thank ties”

(i mean in-world the words they’re using for ties/threads/strings is probably in another language, but I’m a monolingual dumbass so whatever)

Though the lambs had less gendered shit which in a world with actual hecking magic goes without saying ig, but their un-gendered parent word is “baba” because duh

(Ill be so fr I didn’t even realize the sheep pun until I had written over 2,000 words but it is very amusing nonetheless)

They had marriage earrings and horn jewelry instead of rings

Not all that important but rings are boring

But yeah the lambs had less ridged gender roles and stuff so The Lamb being enby wasn’t like a big thing or anything

Something about how all genders tie back to the same net of fate or something

Unlike basically every other version of The Lamb I’ve seen, The Lamb remembers a LOT about their home town and their traditions.

They are different than The Land of The Old Faith though so there’s a lot of different cultural values.

Like the lambs ate a lot less meat than The Old Faith people

(Sidebar: do we have a shorter name for this fucking place cause oh my god it’s a mouthful)

Particularly I bring this up cause The Lamb is VERY much not on the cannibalism wagon.

The lambs also had actual methods of water purification and bathing to like keep their wool clean, since they would use it for crafting

Because of that, the lambs were culturally pretty germaphobic and had a reputation for being way too focused on cleanliness

I mean cats are also in that boat but still

The fact that The Lamb knew how water purification works and being more sanitary was also a big part of the cult actually surviving.

I want to imagine that while The Lamb knew about and wanted soap they had no idea how to make it and spent a long ass time trying to figure it out.

They got someone in the cult who knew eventually but it was a whole ordeal

Like someone pulled up and talked about making a bathhouse and The Lamb was like “YES. YES. YES. YES. YE—”

Magic:

Their magic is strong due to the crown supplying a lot of raw power, but their actual form in using magic is sort of sloppy

(To be fair, most gods are like that but The Lamb is exceptionally bad)

Despite the how casually it's portrayed, reading minds is kind of hard and doesn't work on some people

As in: people think differently so unless someone has a really pronounced inner monologue they can’t really read the person’s mind easily.

Like what are you gonna read if the person doesn't think in words?

Feel the vibes learn the vague concept language? You can’t be staring at this mf for that long!

You can indeed be too neurodivergent to mind-read.

Also a few people in the cult can tell when The Lamb is reading minds and most of them responded pretty negatively to it so The Lamb tries not to read minds too often

(yknow cause like consent and privacy and all that?)

(one of those people promptly pulled a knife on them because I mean- its kinda violating for someone to poke around in your head) (The Lamb didn't kill them cause that’s like a fair response but it did scare the shit out of them)

The Lamb is really bad at detecting auras and concealing their own.

Most gods don’t really conceal themselves because their bombastic presence is like part of the gig

Most people can low-key feel auras subconsciously anyways so The Lamb isn’t incapable of it, but they aren’t good at it.

(As to how people feel auras; It’s sort of like how you can low-key feel vibrations even when you can’t hear but since you can normally hear you don’t consciously notice it?)

[shostakobitchh]

Chapter 1: a flicker at dusk

Ariel runs into her father before lunch later.

He’s been in a foul mood, reluctant to have returned to teaching once more, but clearly only doing so because Ariel is here. Everyone is aware of it. 

The initial shock that Ariel is not a Potter has worn off amongst the students — it hadn’t lingered in Hogwarts — not since Snape had come forward just as Voldemort realized he’d been able to fucking die, unable to resist the temptation to twist the knife of betrayal further. He’d held on tight to Ariel as she’d lifted her wand at Voldemort one last time, sneering that it had been his child all along — that his daughter had been Voldemort’s undoing —

Ariel can't help but wonder if Snape regrets it, now. He barely looks at her, oddly reminiscent of her First Year, when he’d pretended she was just air, that she wasn’t worth his time — before she’d shown him the letter from her mother that had changed everything. 

Snape stands before her in the dungeon corridor, his dark robes billowing despite the absence of a breeze. The torchlight casts harsh shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles and deep lines that make him look older than his years. Even with the stress of spying and near-death experiences over for them both, he still hasn’t exactly — unwound. 

"Miss Evans," Snape says formally, though they're alone. In public, he maintains the distance between professor and student. It's easier that way — safer.

Ariel hates it. 

They played this game for years. Everyone knows, now, but Snape still seems reluctant to be anything but disdainful to her in public. It drives her mad — after Voldemort’s body had hit the floor, he’d crushed her against him, his face shining with pride so thick it had been like staring at the sun — and there had been hundreds of people bloody watching them. Someone had even gotten a picture — it still circulates as the front page of the Prophet, every month or so. He doesn’t know it, but she keeps a Charmed copy of it beside her bed. 

"Sir," she replies, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. 

"I hear you've been avoiding the Hospital Wing," Snape says, his tone clipped. "Madam Pomfrey mentioned you missed your follow-up appointment."

Ariel resists rolling her eyes. "I feel fine. The scarring has healed nicely."

"Your definition of fine has historically been questionable." His gaze flickers briefly to her left forearm, where a thin silver scar runs from wrist to elbow. A parting gift from Bellatrix — the barmy cunt.

"I learned from the best," she counters, a hint of challenge in her voice.

A muscle in Snape's jaw twitches. "Amusing as ever, Miss Evans."

"I'd have thought you'd appreciate the irony, considering how many times you've claimed to be fine while bleeding profusely." She shifts her weight, the stack of books in her arms growing heavier. "Or was that just another lesson in what not to do?"

His eyes narrow fractionally. "Perhaps you should spend less time analyzing my behavior and more time focusing on your NEWT preparations. Professor McGonagall mentioned your last Transfiguration essay was... lacking."

The barb stings more than it should. Once, he would have helped her with difficult subjects — not that she fucking needs it — staying up late in his quarters reviewing theory while they shared tea. Now, he wields her academic struggles like weapons. 

"I've been busy," she says stiffly.

"Too busy for your education? Or too busy avoiding your obligations?" His gaze is piercing, searching for something beyond her words.

Ariel clutches her books tighter against her chest, a shield between them. "Is there something specific you wanted, Professor? Or are we just cataloguing my disappointments for the day?"

She killed a Dark Lord — she’s slain a bloody basilisk — she fought and bled and became the Master of Death, and her father is giving her shit over a Transfiguration essay? 

Something flickers in Snape's expression — a momentary softening, perhaps regret — before the mask of indifference returns.

"I merely wished to ensure you hadn't succumbed to whatever ailment has apparently affected your academic performance," he says, voice dropping lower. "Your mother would expect better."

The mention of her mother lands like a slap. Ariel feels heat rising to her cheeks, anger bubbling beneath her skin. She wants to fling the books at him, to scream that he has no right to wield Mum’s memory as a weapon — not when it was her who spoke to her in the Forest.

You’ve been so brave — 

Snape doesn’t know that, though. Ariel hasn’t the heart to tell him what she did before — what Mum had said to her, her hand reaching and passing through Ariel’s as they’d hungrily drank in each other in that space before she’d died, before she’d been expecting to see her shortly after. 

Maybe it’s because they’re — public. Everyone knows who her real parents are now — maybe Snape feels the need to lean into that aspect, now that he’s officially a single parent? 

Whatever it is, it’s fucking bullshit. Ariel wants to tell him that, but she can’t get the words past her teeth. 

Instead, she swallows hard. "Is that all, sir?"

Snape studies her for a long moment, as though trying to decipher something written in a language he only half-understands. 

"For now." He turns to leave, then pauses. Without looking back, he adds: "Should you find yourself troubled by anything, my office door remains open to you."

Before she can respond, he's gone, black robes disappearing around the corner like wisps of smoke.

Ariel releases a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The encounter leaves her feeling hollow, a familiar ache spreading through her chest. There had been a time when she could read his every microexpression, when she knew the difference between his genuine displeasure and his protective facade. 

Now, she's not sure which parts are real anymore.

[riceybaby]

secret little rendezvous 🤍 - mason mount (smut)

synopsis: a midnight walk between you and mason on holiday gets heated

warnings: skinny dipping, fingering, oral (m+f), mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, public sex, exhibitionism, cum play, choking, praise kink, daddy kink

“Just the bill, that would be great thanks”

You heard Mason talking to the waiter, but were too busy engrossed in a babbling conversation with his niece to look at him. For the past week the two of you had been living it up on holiday with his family, and you couldn’t have been having a better time, but tonight was your last night on the island. And as much as you love spending time with them, the closeness of your rooms and the thinness of the walls had meant you and your boyfriend hadn’t done more than make out and grind against each other the whole trip.

He was making it more than difficult tonight, and he knew it. His shirt meant that you could see through it and have a view of the tattoo on the side of his ribs, the one he loved to tease you with because he knows how much it drives you crazy. Not only that, but the more needy he gets, the more touchy he gets, whether he was trying or not. One hand was wrapped around your shoulders, aimlessly tracing shapes and patterns down the side of your arm, while his other was rested on your thigh, slowly moving up and down it all night. Whilst these touches may have seemed innocent to his family, just typical Mason unable to keep his hands off you, you knew that he was doing it so he didn’t stop himself from ripping your clothes off before he could. The dress you were wearing was making his head spin, him spitting out his water back into his glass in the villa when you came out the bedroom wearing it. It wasn’t anything special, but every move and every curve made him forget how to breathe, and how to keep his composure.

“So, when’s the wedding?” His brother asked, noticing how clingy and loved up the pair of you were acting tonight. His sister sent you a smirk, the two of you having talked about getting married just the night before, with you telling her you were practically counting down the days until Mason got down on one knee.

“To her? Can’t really stand her to be honest” he joked back, using the excuse to turn and look at you, taking everything in.

“No me neither, I refuse to marry a man who thinks it’s ok to cancel a date because a last minute sunbed appointment became available”

“Mason!” his mum reprimanded, rolling her eyes.

“Hey it was one time!” A slight tinged appearance became visible on his cheeks. “I learnt my lesson” he mumbled, burying his head into your neck and placing light kisses in the spot that usually would produce his favourite sound. But when he lingered in on the final one, letting his breath fan against your neck and his tongue touch you the slightest amount, you knew that was his way of letting you know you were in for it later.

You each made your way back to your villa, giving everyone hugs goodnight and sorting out the plans for the morning, and you would have been listening had mason not been stood behind you, toying with your hand. He was simply moving around the rings, opening and closing your fingers, and rubbing circles on the back of your palm, but it was just another sign of how desperate he was for you. When he cut off his mum, telling her the plans sounded great and you would see them tomorrow, you laughed and let yourself be dragged away by his arm.

“You just couldn’t help yourself could you” you giggled, putting the key into the door to your room and turning it whilst his hands roamed all over you and his lips found your neck.

Before you could enter the room, he grabbed your hips and pressed you back against him, able to feel his bulge poking against your bum. “You have no idea how fucking hard I am for you right now” he whispered into your ear, leaving a little bite there. You turned to face him, his brown eyes sparkling in the light and lust, his tattoos on show as well as that cheeky grin you loved so much, and it took everything you had to deny him.

“I’m not fucking you in there”

“What? Why?”

“Mason you can hear every word that is said in the next room. I’m not entirely sure I want your family to hear me begging you to go deeper. Or if you want them all to know about your favourite nickname?” He snickered at this, knowing that as much as it killed him, you were right.

“And I can’t be in that room with you and not fuck you”

You weighed up your options for a minute. You guessed you could both just masturbate next to each other, but then again neither of you, especially him, kept your voices down when that happens. “I’ve been wanting to go on a walk at midnight along the beach all week, why don’t we go do that and by the time we get back we’ll both have forgotten all about it”

He sarcastically sulked at this, pretending to be annoyed that he wouldn’t get to shag you with an ocean view, but he would take up any opportunity to spend time with you so he agreed, and let himself be pulled away by you towards the sand.

His fingers intertwined with yours, shoulders brushing as you walked far out to the shore, kicking sand over each other’s feet. The noise of the sea waves crashing completely relaxed the two of you, loving nothing more than the man stood beside you and the moment you were in.

“So when would you want the wedding to be?” he shyly asked, completing catching you off guard. Of course you had talked about getting married a million times, but it had always been something you talked about as happening way into the future, you didn’t know if he wanted it right now the way you did.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s say I was to propose tomorrow, I’m not, but let’s say I was. Is that too soon to get a yes?”

You stayed silent for a minute, pretending to think about it. “Do I get a big ring?”

“The biggest” he grinned looking down at you.

“Then I suppose I’d say yes.” You brought your lips together, messily as your teeth clashed from both of you smiling like idiots, moaning slightly at the taste of him and wine. He whispered an ‘i love you’ against your lips, one you returned before he sat down and pulled you down too, so he was sat with his knees up and your back pressed flat against his chest, him rocking you both side to side gently. If you could take a picture of this moment and store it in a locket you would.

You stayed like that for a while, in comfortable silence and sweet touches until he said something that shifted the atmosphere to what it was before. “Have you ever gone skinny dipping?”

“No, no I haven’t”

“Bet you’d look sexy doing it.”

You turned to face him, slowly sitting on top of him so you were straddling him, able to feel him hard beneath you for the second time that evening. “Mr Mount is this you trying to have your way with me?”

“Maybe” he replied, his bottom lip inbetween his teeth, hands moving to cup your boobs.

“Well I guess there’s a first time for everything.” He watched with intent eyes as you lifted up the hem off your dress, taking it all the way up at a painfully slow speed and groaning as you sat on top of him in just your underwear. Your fingers moved to unclasp your bra, taking it off one strap at a time until your top half was bare in front of him. His tongue reached out and licked a strip up your nipple, but you grabbed his chin and shook your head. “You said skinny dipping, not sex on the beach.”

He took off his clothes the quickest you’d ever seen him do it, him desperate to get you in that water. Once he’d took off his boxers, you both were entirely naked apart from the fact you still had his favourite pair of panties on. He leant down, placing the lace in between his teeth, and dragged them down, his lips grazing you as he did. He moved at an even more torturous pace than you did, taking his time until he had finally pulled them off. All he wanted to do in that moment was bury his head into you, and lick up the juices that he could already see, but instead he took you by the hand and led you into the water.

You walked until it was too deep for you, your feet unable to touch the seabed floor when he told you to jump so your legs were wrapped around him. Mason wasted no time in kissing you, his lips telling you every desire he had in that moment, his tongue finding yours and sucking on it, wanting to feel as close as he physically could. You move to his collarbone, licking a stripe up it and feel his grip on you arse tighten as he tries to control himself. The colour of his neck goes purple as you suck on it, humming sweetly against it to show him how much you love trying to make him feel good. A soft bite gets pressed there, you devouring every little gasp you pull from his mouth. Just as he goes to return the favour, you stop him, and swim so your at arms length away from him. He looks confused, but has little time to ask what’s going on as you scoop all the water you can under your arms and splash him in the face.

“You little shit Y/N” he laughed, getting even harder at the sound of you squealing as he chased you in the sea. A tsunami of water came your way as he splashed you back, him using it to lock you in from behind so your bodies were flush against each other. Neither of you say a word, the sexual tension deafening.

“Mase, have you ever had sex on the beach?”

And with that he threw you over his shoulder, storming out of the water until you were both back on the shore. He dropped down onto the sand, placing sloppy kisses on every bit of wet skin he could find, ravishing you like an animal. Each hand grabs one of your legs, spreading them apart so he is directly in front of your pussy.

“You’re fucking dripping baby.” He groaned, taking a finger and collecting all the wetness running out of you, and placing it in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around him, moaning at the taste. “I taste good.”

“So fucking sweet.” He replied, taking his tongue and placing delicate licks over your slit. He could’ve swore he nearly came just from watching you get off on your own taste. He lapped up at you, fucking you with his tongue before moving on to your clit. His movements started slow, moving it around in light circles, enjoying the way it made you moan short and shallow breaths. But it had been so long since he heard you screaming for him that it didn’t take him long to suck on you, his lips acting like magic and making pleasure shoot through every vein you have. His fingers ran up and down your slit, getting them wet before he pushed them into you. Your pussy was throbbing for him and he could feel it, the grip and the noises only making him fuck you harder.

“Feel good darling?”

You couldn’t even reply, just nodded your head and pushed his further into you so you were grinding against his tongue and fingers. He curled his fingers inside you, aching to find the spot that makes you explode, and when you let out a pathetic wail of his name he knows he’s found it. The hand he’s got free reaches out to find yours, letting you squeeze it as hard as you can to avoid having the whole island know that your boyfriend is making you cum on the beach.

“That’s it, let it out for me”

As his words leave his lips you do as he says, toes curling, back arching and eyes screwed shut. He moved his fingers exactly as you like, pressing down on that spot and making your juices squirt all over his chest. His tongue rode out your high, stopping once your moans had turned into soft pants. He lifted up his head and stared at you for a moment, through the darkness he could still make out the flush of your cheeks and the rise and fall of your chest. You grab his face and bring him in for a kiss to say thank you, before moving your hand down to where he needs you the most. You knew how hard he had been all night, but you had never felt him like this. The tip was bright red, begging you to lick it, suck it, rub it, do anything to it.

He pulled you up so he was sat on his knees, with you on all fours underneath him. Your lipstick left marks down his abs, trailing all the way to his pubic bone whilst your fingers teased his inner thighs. The hiss that he let out when you grazed your finger over his slit made your wetter than you already were, feeling it sticking your thighs together, which got you even more excited at the prospect of Mason finding it. He had been sweet and giving to you all night, but you knew that right now was when that version of him was going to disappear. Your hands played with his balls, rubbing them whilst your mouth licked up and down his dick, tracing the vein. You took him in, bobbing up and down slowly a few times before coming off of him with a pop. His hands were cupping your face, lifting it up to look at him when you didn’t do anything more.

“Fuck my face Masey”

He lost his head at this innocent facade you were putting on, saying ‘Masey’ with the sweetest tone whilst asking him to do the dirtiest things to you. His hand found his base, and he rubbed his tip against your lips a couple times, watching the spit leak from your mouth to his shaft.

“Tell me if this gets too much.” He ploughed himself into your throat, the feeling of your mouth and tongue working around him getting him closer than he should be. Your hands moved to cup his arse, giving him full control to do whatever he wanted. His hips thrusted into you hard, making you sputter around him.

“Y/N. Fuck.”

He continued his movements, shoving himself all the way in, groaning loudly when you hollowed your cheeks around him. When his thrusts started faltering, you knew he was getting close. “Cum for me mase, please” you begged, knowing how much that turned him on. It only took a couple more thrusts, before he buried your head against his skin, and let go. His groans turned into whimpers as he shot his load into your mouth, biting his lip and staring at the stars above him. You swallowed every bit he gave you, wiping up the bits that ran out onto your chin.

“Wasn’t too rough was I?” he asked, bringing you up to face him so he could look at your eyes.

“No not at all, think you should fuck me even harder.”

He promised you that he would, but he just needed a minute to calm down from that orgasm. You laid down in front of him, still so turned on that you couldn’t help it when your hands started to cup your breasts. As took one hand and circled your clit with it, you let out soft moans of Mason’s name.

“Is this how you get yourself off when I’m away?” You rolled your eyes but nodded, knowing he became insatiable at the thought of you pleasuring yourself. “Show me how you do it”

Your eyes never left his, spreading your legs out again so he could see everything you were doing. One hand rubbed circles around your clit, while you put the other into Mason’s mouth, making him get your fingers wet for you. You sat up and sunk down on them, watching the way his mouth hung open at the sight of you riding your fingers. You found the rhythm you liked, fucking and rubbing yourself at the same speed. Mason delicately palmed himself, feeling himself start to get hard again.

“You look so fucking pretty Y/N, so fucking pretty” His hands ran up and down his own cock, tugging himself at the sight of you making yourself cum. He leant forward and pressed butterfly kisses against you, increasing the speed of his movements with every moan you let out.

“Mase I’m gonna cum”

“Good girl, cum for me then”

You exploded for the second time that night, your fingers completely coated in how wet you were. “Fuck Mason, shit. Oh shit” you whined, unable to keep the noises in. Your high was even better than your first, seeing him get off to you spurring you along. You were desperate to finally have him inside you, and with the way he was looking at you, you knew he was too.

You got up and straddled him again, taking him into your hands and running him through your folds. “Don’t tease” he sighed, bucking his hips up into you. Slowly you pushed him inside you, you sinking down on him until you had taken as much of him as you could manage from that angle. His hands were rested on your hips, and when you started bouncing on top of him, he guided your movements. At first you moved slowly, getting adjusted to the stretch of him inside you, but you were quickly taking all of him. Mason’s eyes were fixed on your pussy, watching the way his dick would disappear inside of you. The sounds were lewd; along with the sea, the slapping of skin, the wetness of your pussy and both your moans were the only sounds filling the air. Until they weren’t.

“Mason, Mason stop.” You said, pressing down on his chest until you were sat still on top of him. You both could hear the voices coming from the other side of the beach, knowing that you were no longer alone. “There’s people over there, just wait for them to leave.”

“It’s fine, they’re all the way over there, they’re not gonna see.”

“Could be a pap”

“Well then I hope we make front page news. Besides it’s just two people walking their dog”

You couldn’t deny that the thought of being caught or watched was turning you on, and Mason knew it too. He saw the way you bit your lip and rubbed your legs together as you looked back at the people, and knew that he was going to end up fucking you either way.

“Get on all fours baby”

You did as he said, turning around so you were in front of him, your arse and pussy in the air just for him. He came up behind you, and gave you no warning, immediately starting to thrust into you harshly. One hand came round to rub your clit, the other around your throat and you swear you couldn’t feel your legs. The way he was fucking you was so good, you could feel every movement inside your guts overwhelmingly. You tried to find something to hold onto, but the sand was just slipping through your grasp and so the only thing you could do was scream.

“Good girl baby, let them know how well you’re being fucked right now”

“Mason, please don’t stop. Please don’t stop daddy.”

Hearing that name sent him to overdrive. With every thrust he spanked you, fucking into you harder than he even knew he could. His dick felt so, so good inside you and his groans became louder than your screams. He felt you begin to throb around him, knowing you were going to orgasm and it was going to be a big one. You tried to cover your mouth with your hand, but he simply held it in place behind your back.

“No no baby, I want you to let those people over there know how it feels. How does it feel princess?”

“So good, so good” you said, your voice struggling to come out.

“And who’s making you feel this good?”

“You daddy”

You couldn’t hold it back any longer. With the loudest moan you’d ever let out you felt yourself let go, squirting all over yourself, Mason’s cock and the sand. Your vision went blank and you couldn’t hear a thing, only being able to focus on the way he was still ploughing into you. The feeling of you convulsing around him took him over the edge, and he pulled out of you, turned you around, and came all over your face and tits. “Y/N fuck fuck fuck.” He groaned, letting every last drop fall onto you. When he had finished, he licked a line round your boobs, gathering as much of himself onto his tongue as he could before spitting it into your mouth. He laid down next to you, completely out of breath and just watching the sea crash against the sand.

“Well thats two things ticked off the bucket list”

[samtheflamingomain]

25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[willow-salix]

I'm too dumb to live sometimes. I wrote this about two months ago and only realised now that I neglected to post it, even though I thought I had. Duh!

Soooo, someone has to teach the witch how to fly... Selene is out of her comfort zone, she's not confident and she's over dramatic. Poor John. Part of the series on Ao3.

"Brains just informed me that Selene's car is ready for a test ride and that means someone has to teach her how to actually fly the thing."

"Teaching a Witch to fly, can't be that hard," Scott joked. 

John snorted. "You do remember how we met, right?"

"Ah, yeah, good point."

John nodded. "So, who's volunteering? And make sure she doesn't find out, I don't want her panicking and stressing herself out over it, you know what she was like when you were overseeing her gravity training."

"So you're just going to spring it on her?" 

"That's the plan."

"You're a braver man than I am, bro."

"Or just stupid," Gordon helpfully added. From where he sat in one of Three's launch chairs he had been invisible to John. 

John closed his eyes briefly, oh, this wasn't good. Gordon was usually firmly on Selene's side in almost everything, not always because he agreed with her but because he feared and loved her in equal parts, that and he always found it hilariously funny to watch her exploding at people. 

"Gordon, you cannot tell her about this, she thinks she's got plenty of time before it's ready."

"Fine, but let me just say one thing?" 

John sighed, ready to promise anything to ensure his silence. "Sure."

"Not it."

Scott, realising that his second youngest brother might actually be the smartest of them all followed his lead. "Not it!" 

"Scott, really?" 

Scott grinned. "You're the stupid one, not me. Besides, she's your fiancée, you do it." 

"Do you think Parker…" 

"He and Penelope are attending the opening of that new underwater hotel for the week."

"Virgil?" 

"Busy with Two's bimonthly tune up, only leaving for emergencies."

"Kayo?" 

"Can you actually imagine Kayo having the patience to teach anyone anything?" 

Crap, he was right. That only left…"Alan?"

"Would break if she yelled at him and he'd let her get away with not even trying. Nope, this one is all on you."

Shit. He might be a little inexperienced when it came to relationships but even he knew the two golden rules, never agree that her butt looked big in those jeans even if it appeared she has a beach ball stuffed down her pants and never, ever, teach her to drive. He just hoped he wasn't suddenly single by the end of the lesson. 

"I guess I'm on my way, ask Grandma to take over monitoring duty will you?" 

                                     ***

Selene grabbed her phone when it pinged up a message, surprised but very pleased to read it. John, as always, was a man of few words 'I'm outside'.

She snatched up her jacket as she ran out the door, clattering down the stairs. It had been a long week filled with back to back appointments for her and she was more than ready for a break. She'd been about to call Virgil and request a pickup but it seemed her man had other ideas. Honestly, much as she loved his family, the thought of having a night, just the two of them in her peaceful little apartment seemed like heaven. 

She swung open the front door and abruptly stopped. There was her car, her cute little car with its sleek shape and shiny black paint job and her spaceman behind the wheel. That meant…oh crap. 

The door opened and he unfolded his long frame from the driver's seat, stepping out of the car. 

"Is Brains finished with her, is she done?" 

"Hello to you too."

She pulled him in for a quick kiss. "Hello gorgeous man."

"That's more like it.. Now, are you ready to take her for a spin?" 

Her eyes widened as she stuck her head inside, checking out the modifications. Where she had previously had nothing more complicated than heater dials and a radio she now had something that looked like it had been ripped out of the Enterprise and shoehorned into her dashboard. 

She wasn't a bad driver, just a simple one, and one that was used to roads and signposts, not sky and 'turn left at the third cloud'. She could get lost going to the bathroom, she wasn't good at picking out landmarks. That was why she often drove to her witchy venues and flew the last mile for appearances sake. 

How had she ever allowed herself to be talked into this? She glanced over her shoulder at John who was none too subtly checking out her behind where she was bent over. Oh yeah, that was why. She had the sexist Space Hunk who happened to live, part time anyway, on a secret island that could only be reached by air or sea, and she was not that good a swimmer. 

"Erm…"

Her face was a picture. She might go out of her way to project an image of being confident and fully in control of everything, but now he knew different. She was sensitive, loving, kind, and strong, but also dramatic with an overly active imagination and a tendency to go with worse case scenario.

He'd also realised that, as much as she tried to deny it, she too suffered from the occasional crisis of confidence and often believed that she would do something wrong. She'd confided in him late one night, while lying close together in his bunk on Five, that an ex boyfriend had managed, over the course of their year long relationship, to convince her that she was pretty much useless at everything she did so there wasn't any point in trying. Much as she was helping him to see that he was more than good enough, he was doing the same for her. 

"You can do this."

She pulled a face, clearly not believing him at all. 

"Can you at least get us somewhere far enough away that I won't endanger human lives?" 

"There's the confident woman I know and love." 

She stuck her tongue out at him and climbed into the back, refusing to give him the chance to argue. 

Rolling his eyes he got back behind the wheel. Clearly this was going to be a long day. 

                                   ***

"It's really simple, Brains made sure to keep it as familiar as possible for you."

Selene had managed to work herself up into a nice panic on the drive out of London, imagining all the horrible ways in which she could potentially kill them both and now she couldn't even begin to think straight. His calm tone,which usually made her feel better, was now sounding patronising and annoyed to her ears and it was pissing her off. 

"Nice to know that everyone thinks I'm a complete idiot who couldn't handle anything too mentally taxing."

"No one thinks that, you specifically said that you wanted the flying equivalent of a go cart. Would you have wanted anything as complicated as one of our crafts?" 

"Of course not, contrary to popular belief I do not have a death wish."

He wisely ignored that and continued his instructions.

"The pedals work exactly the same as they did before, just stop and go and steer with the wheel."

He leant closer from his seat in the back and pointed to the first of a new row of buttons. "The blue one is drive, the green one is fly, that will realign the wheels and lift her off the ground to a height of around two meters. Only when flight is engaged will the steering wheel allow you to pull up on it to go higher and push down to go lower."

"Does it still turn left and right?" her tone was sickeningly sweet but ever so slightly dangerous. John was a wise man and yet again chose to adopt the mantra of 'if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all'. 

"The yellow button engages the autopilot and the course is set by inputting the location into that GPS there." He pointed to the upgraded screen that had replaced her old navigation system. "The moment you press that one the autopilot will take over and all you have to do is keep an eye on the sky and make sure you don't run into anything."

"What does the red one do?" 

"That one is multipurpose, it's your stop and land button. If you're landing press it while losing height and the sensors built into the undercarriage will take over, levelling you out and realigning the wheels ready to drive and bringing you to the ground safely. If you want to land and keep driving press the blue button after the red, if you want to stop press the red a second time. That will shut off the engine once you come to a stop."

"OK…"

"That didn't sound convincing, sweetheart."

"No, no I think I've got it. Emphasis on the word, think."

"Want to try just starting her up and cruising on the ground for a few minutes and then we can try the skies?" 

Selene visually mapped out the interior again, trying to remember everything he'd said. 

"OK."

"You can do this, it's really simple."

"Yeah, so you keep telling me, because that's about all I can handle."

He frowned, where had that come from? 

"Of course it's not, you are anything but simple."

"So I'm complicated and difficult?" 

"No! You're wonderful and unique." How had it turned into this? She was taking everything he said wrong. "Just give this a try."

She took a deep breath and mentally smacked herself for being such an cow. She wasn't mad at him, although she would have appreciated a little warning before he threw her in the deep end and expected her to swim, she was just so scared of fucking up. They were all so competent, so confident and experienced, in comparison she was, a nothing. Boringly normal family, average childhood and an affinity with nature, not machine. She'd never been one to take to technology easily, machines and how they worked pretty much baffled her on a daily basis. She was an intuitive person, one that interacted with the energies of the earth, and that didn't work with machinery. It had no life force, no energy of its own, no soul. 

If she was honest with herself she knew that with very little effort she could easily become a burden and a problem to them all. Only she could manage to find the love of her life by needing rescue. The last thing she wanted to do was become a target for them or to get in the way with her inexperience and lack of skills. 

Compared to the other females on the team she was next to useless. Penelope was a brave, beautiful, skilled, connected woman that could handle anything. Kayo was a highly trained, arse kicking machine that had the brains as well as beauty. She flew her craft with the kind of skill that Selene couldn't even begin to imagine let alone pull off. Grandma Tracy might lack culinary skills but she made up for it in a million other ways, strength oozing from her pores. Whereas she was a little too curvy to be fashionable, had no real talents that she could speak of and had never been to university. She was nothing special. 

And the boys? They were all high flying, high impact, overly intelligent prodigies and she was a nothing. She didn't deserve any of the help, support and acceptance that they had given her. One day John was going to wake up and realise exactly what he was missing out on. Realise that he had settled for average when he deserved amazing. 

He was looking at her so strangely, like he couldn't understand her or her actions, and she couldn't blame him. He'd made the effort to drive her car, pick her up and was trying to help her and she was being a raging bitch. 

"I got this shit." She pressed her thumb against the key lock and the car engine rumbled into life. 

                                     ***

"I really don't got this."

The car's front grill was lodged in the mud and she was ready to give up five minutes into the lesson. How could you get up and down mixed up? Somehow she had managed it. 

She'd been driving along the grassy ground of the hillside he'd parked them on and had managed to remember that green was fly only by association of green being the colour of Two and that thing flew. OK, so maybe simple was better for her. 

She'd yelped when the cars wheels had shifted and rotated on their axis, just as FAB 1's did, pointing to the ground and each becoming their own little jet engine.

The car had lifted off the ground by a few meters as promised and John had calmly reminded her that now the wheel would work for the up and down not just the left and right and to go higher she had to go up.

That's all well and good, but her version of up was apparently slightly different to his. He meant she should take hold of the wheel and pull it towards her which would lift the wheel up. She in a classic comedy move of not being able to open a door, mistook pull, for push.

She pushed up when she should have pulled down. The result, a less than spectacular nose dive into the ground.

"It's OK, it's fine, you can fix this. Just put her in reverse and she should have enough pull to yank herself out, she's not that deep."

She moved the car into reverse and eased her foot down on the pedal but the car didn't move.

"No, you have to put her in drive mode first."

"You should have said that!"

"Sorry, I thought it was obvious."

"Well it wasn't."

"So I see."

She tossed a glare over her shoulder at him, her hand hovering over the control panel.

"Blue button."

"I knew that!"

"Did you though?"

Honestly she hadn't, she'd been about to hit the yellow. Why hadn't the genius that was Brains thought to label the fucking things?

She pushed the blue button and felt the wheels shift back down.

"OK…reverse." She pushed the gear stick back into reverse and eased her foot slowly down on the pedal. The wheels gripped a little but then span out, sending up a stream of mud and grass behind them.

"Shit!"

"It's OK, lets try to override it. Put her in fly again, green button-"

"I got it, I got it, green like two that flew."

He gave her a look that said he was seriously debating her sanity at that moment. Honestly she was surprised she hadn't seen that look more often.

"Green button, wait until the wheels are up, then shove the steering wheel up as far as it will go and boot it."

"Shove and boot, those are highly technical terms…"

She did as she was told, pulling at the steering wheel, which didn't move.

"It won't pull until the wheels are fully up, just give it a moment, don't be so impatient."

She gritted her teeth and let the wheel go, waiting until the wheels fully lifted, noticing then that a small light above the green button blinked on. Well that would have been handy to know too, why didn't this thing come with a manual?

"Alright, now hard pull and foot down, Sel."

She followed his instructions, yanking the steering wheel hard as she slammed her foot down on the pedal. The car's butt took a dive but it's nose shot up, as did the car, launching itself into the air.

She screamed and he barely resisted the urge to do the same when she panicked and let go of the wheel, which retracted, dropping them sharply.

"Hold the wheel, Selene!"

She grabbed it and held it in place.

"OK, there's no need to yell at me!"

Had he yelled? He never yelled. How did she do that? How did she always manage to make him lose control?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. Just level out a bit. Follow the Altitude Indicator."

"The what now?"

He sighed.

"You see that thing on the dash?" he pointed to what looked like half a snow globe with a line across the middle and a cross lower down. He waited until she nodded. "That cross is us, so you need to correct her until the cross is in the middle, lined up on the horizon line."

"Again, that would have been handy to know before we took off."

"It's standard in every craft, I assumed you knew what it was."

"Then just keep assuming and assume that I'm dumb and spell shit out like you're teaching the ABC."

He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "You aren't dumb."

"Dude, did you just roll your eyes at me?"

"No?"

"Don't answer a question with a question, that does not make it better!"

He wisely shut up and simply pointed to the horizon line.

She gave the steering wheel an experimental pull and saw the cross move. When she went left it went left, the same with right, which was so blindingly obvious but she still felt like she had to test it. Following the cross she managed to level it out.

"Good. That's great, but you might want to take us just a tiny bit higher…" the top of a rather large fir tree scraped their undercarriage.

"How the hell am I supposed to know how high to go or when I reach it? What's my limits? I need limits dammit!"

"It's the new gauge next to your upgraded speedometer. You see the numbers there?" She did, they were high, scarily high. "That's in feet, 5 thousand each line. Commercial planes and our crafts aim for between 35 thousand and 40 thousand feet. Anything about 50 is in the red line there and too high. You need to go between 10 and 15, higher if you're going long distance, maybe around 20."

"That's…that's seriously high. Very very scarily high." according to the new needle they weren't even registering as having left the earth and it already felt too high for her. She'd never be able to do this on her own.

"You've been higher."

"Not when I'm not in your tin can or with someone else driving. On a broom we barely clear the treetops, it's too cold, too windy and too exposed."

"Well you're about to go higher now, because if you don't pull up we'll hit that Tor up ahead."

The mass of rocks, piled high, had come out of nowhere and she jumped, yanking on the wheel, just managing to miss crashing into them like a bowling ball into pins.

"I can't do this. I can't do this…" she chanted under her breath, knuckles white in the wheel. She needed to get down. She pushed forward on the wheel, dropping their nose sharply and punched at the red button. Red meant stop. Stop was good. Stop was needed.

The wheels came down and thankfully the sensors took over as she smacked at the button again. They hit the ground with a teeth jarring bump as she had forgotten, or never been told, to slow down.

As soon as the engine died she threw open the door and hauled her shaking self out of the car.

John followed straight after, catching up with her.

"Selene what's wrong? This isn't like you."

"Yes, it is! This is totally like me. I freak out over unfamiliar things, things that I can't control and don't understand."

"What's not to understand, it's simple-"

"No. It's not simple. Not to me anyway. Maybe to you because you all grew up like this. But I didn't, I'm different, I'm not part of your Tracy life where you have to pull out a plane to go to the shop! I am not a part of this!"

"Of course you're part of our life."

She closed her eyes, praying for patience. It was freezing cold out on the moors of Yorkshire, the wind howling across the hillside to whip the hair back from her face and she huddled into her coat, arms wrapped around herself, for comfort as much as warmth.

"I didn't mean it like that." She knew that she was a part of his life, or all their lives.

"Then what did you mean, I don't understand?"

"Of course you don't. Because you can't imagine what it's like to not know all of this stuff. If you've never flown before, never had anyone show you all that you need to know, never had someone actually instruct you on it, you don't know. It's not an automated download to your brain. It might come naturally to all of you, but let's just face facts here, I'll never be like that. I'll never be one to hop into a craft and instinctively know what to do or how to even start the thing. I'll never be good enough."

"Never be good enough?" Her last words stuck out to him more than anything else she said.

"You really do focus on the most insignificant parts, don't you?"

He felt like he should be insulted by that. To him, her feeling like she wasn't good enough was the most important thing. Thankfully he wasn't one to react to a negative situation without assessing everything first. He mentally rewound her words and realised that she was right. He had just expected her to know what to do. He was used to working and interacting with people that operated their kind of machines on a daily basis, they were all trained in each others crafts, at least the basics enough to get them out of trouble. He had forgotten to tell her what most of the instruments were because they were second nature to them. A five minute run down of any new modifications Brains made to any of their crafts and they were good to go. Learn by doing, that was the Tracy way. Sometimes he forgot that she wasn't a Tracy, she hadn't been brought up the way they had been. She was different.

He didn't know what to do or how to handle this situation. He could clearly see that she was struggling, likely on the verge of a full meltdown. She was always so good at comforting and helping others but didn't seem to be able to be kind to herself.

He couldn't leave her like that, he had to do something. He knew that whenever she didn't know what to do she deployed her secret weapon, a healing hug.

He approached her like one would a scared dog, avoiding the teeth, and enfolded her in his arms.

"I love you."

She remained stiff in his arms for a few moments but then sagged into him, her arms going around his middle.

"I love you too, but you're annoying."

"I know. So are you."

She didn't dignify that with an answer, just let him hold her for a few minutes.

"Selly, talk to me. Why would you think you aren't good enough?"

She sighed, nuzzling her cold nose into his neck, feeling him shiver in response.

"I don't know. You're just all so perfect at everything."

He snorted at that, they were far from perfect, especially Gordon who managed to find the widest range of ways to screw up.

"Go on."

"I just…i just don't get how I'm your type of person. We have zero in common, I don't fit into your world, I'm not a super spy or an awesome astronaut, I have no skills to offer the team at all. I'm the definition of dead weight."

"We don't see you that way, you're one of us now. You don't need to be like everyone else, we have enough spies and rocket flyers, your skills are so much more important."

"Yeah right."

"Yes, right." He gave her a small squeeze for emphasis. "I like that we don't have the same interests, the same hobbies and job, it means we have something different to talk about. And as for not being my type, well I've been with my type and it didn't work out, as I'm sure you have."

She had to agree with that, sticking to your own kind often left a lot to be desired.

"But then, if a beautiful, loving, highly skilled woman isn't my type, then I don't know what is. I might not have been looking for you, but I think you fit me perfectly."

"And I might not have been looking for a gorgeous, intelligent and highly skilled spaceman, but I think you fit me too."

"Often what we want and what we actually need are two different things, but I know I'll always want and need you."

"So you don't think I'm stupid for not getting this whole flying thing?"

He shook his head. "Not at all, it's not your fault if you don't already know how to do it. We just need to start with the basics and this time I'll make sure I explain everything I'm doing and you need to make sure you ask about anything you aren't sure of."

"I can do that."

"Let's try this again, shall we? But this time we'll do it a little different."

***

"I can't believe I'm actually doing it!"

Selene was perched on his lap, both of them sharing the driver's seat. It was unconventional but was working well.

He'd been great at explaining everything once he realised that she knew next to nothing about any of it. He'd gone through every instrument on the panel, explaining its use and when to use it, including the silver button that would cloak the car should she ever be followed or need to be invisible, something she insisted on calling Ghost-mode. The black button was there to activate a protective shield around the car should she ever need it. Brains had also resprayed the car with anti-scratch, extra tough paint that would stop most damage aimed her way.

He'd then started the car and talked her through everything as he did it, so she could see it in action, making sure that she understood. They were both controlling their moods and had managed not to snap at each other again.

He'd taken the car up and down twice, slowing down his actions so she could register them, then he'd made her try, covering her hands with his for support and reassurance. She'd talked her way through everything, and he found that he only had to correct her once before they were safely up above the tree line.

Now that he was right there with her and able to take over in the event of an emergency, she had relaxed and felt confident enough to climb higher, reaching the desired altitude and begun to cruise.

Once she was comfortable with that he had encouraged her to have a little fun, moving this way and that, feeling the air currents and working with them rather than fighting against them.

He'd then instructed her on landing, which she managed to do the second time as smoothly as if she'd been flying all her life.

Next he taught her how to program a route and engage the autopilot once they were high enough. That had been easier for her and she had relaxed back against his chest, keeping an eye open for any potential obstacles or dangers though there was nothing of note.

They'd picked a route that was less than three hundred miles, something that took a matter of minutes with her upgraded engine, and had looped them in a big circle to come back to their original spot. Once again she landed perfectly, having gotten the hang of the controls now. It really was quite easy once she had gotten over her fear of the unknown and had it explained to her in a way that made sense.

Their last lesson was to use the GPS to get them back to her apartment, which she followed easily now she was on the ground again. He had vacated the driver's seat and sat in the back for the return journey, content to simply watch her and ponder over her words.

He didn't understand how she could possibly think she was stupid. She was a fast learner and had gotten into the swing of things quickly once she had felt supported and everything had been explained to her. She was very much like him in the fact that she liked to know everything about it before she even started, knowledge made her feel more comfortable. He could kick himself for not having noticed that about her before and not realising that it really was all new to her.

They pulled up outside her building and she slid into her designated space, hitting the red button to shut down the engine.

"You did amazingly well."

She turned to smile at her love. "Well, it turns out that I had a good teacher."

He climbed out of the car and took her hand when she joined him.

"Quiet night in?"

He nodded. "Sounds perfect, then tomorrow we'll head to the island, I think you can handle that with the GPS and autopilot, don't you?"

She took a deep breath but then nodded her agreement. "As long as I have you, I can handle anything."

***

The palm trees didn't need to fold back for her dinky car, and it was kinda scary waiting for the cliff face to open enough to let her in, making her think that it wouldn't register her cars signature and open in time, leaving her driving into solid rock, but she needn't have worried. Brains, as always, had thought of everything.

John directed her to a spot off to the left of Two's hanger. Someone, likely Virgil, had painted on the wall in big purple letters the words "Thunderbird Witch".

"I told you you're one of us."

And that was when she burst into tears.

[grandraconteur]

Wish You Were Here, Chapter 2

Finally, we get a bit of Tony, and a very healthy dose of Iron Dad and Spider Son...plus a game plan emerges.

Once again, thank you to @merelypassingtime for betaing and bouncing ideas off with me. She's seriously the best.

Also read on AO3.

Chapter 2: Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun

 Witness the man who raves at the wall

 Making the shape of his questions to Heaven

 Whether the sun will fall in the evening

 Will he remember the lesson of giving?

"Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun" ~ Pink Floyd

For several moments, Peter could do nothing but stare at the screen. There was no cliche reaction, like blood pounding in his ears or feeling faint. It was like his body was stuck several minutes in the past, like his brain and his body were stuck in different moments of response to what he was seeing.

That was….that was definitely his dad. Grey hair and fine wrinkles to show for the decade that had passed and a goatee that hadn’t been there before, but...definitely, definitely him.  

“Karen,” he questioned haltingly. “Do you...do you see a guy here?”

Using the virtual interface that appeared in front of him through the mask, Peter tapped on the image of his dad, zooming in to clarify.

“Yes, Peter.”

“Can you...describe him for me?”

Karen was surprisingly silent for a moment. Peter wondered if Mr. Stark had programmed her to experience sympathetic concern that would halt her dialogue.

“He appears to be tall, with dark, greying hair and facial hair. I believe he is wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and a rather oversized red scarf.”

“So you see the same guy I do.”

“Yes.”

With a woosh, Peter let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Something twinged in his gut as chills began to take hold.

“Peter, I believe you are experiencing shock.”

“Yeah, that’s...that’s not a surprise.”

“Perhaps you should get under the covers. It might help.”

Listlessly, Peter did as Karen suggested, pulling the covers up to his chin.

How was he supposed to react?

Was what his eyes were telling him even possible?

“Karen, if I gave you an old photo of my dad, could you use it to determine if the man in the image is actually my dad and not just...some guy that really, really looks like him?”

“Unfortunately, facial recognition is one of the features that Mr. Stark has yet to reactivate since he returned your suit. He’s also added a failsafe to ensure you and Ned can no longer hack my programming.”

“What!” Peter sat up, youthful indignation momentarily distracting him from the biggest bombshell of his life. “Why?”

“He expressed concern you’d use it to track down more men like Toomes without coming to him first for help.”

“That’s-” That’s absolutely something he would do, who was he kidding? “-fair, I suppose...” he relented, falling back down into the sheets. “But how am I supposed to confirm that really is him, then?”

God, what he would give to show this to Aunt May. The recent Spiderman revelation was bad enough, but this would just give her a double heart attack (“Hey, Aunt May, so not only do I risk my life every day as Spiderman, but it turns out my dad-you know, the guy who abandoned me and that you and Uncle Ben hate with a passion?- is actually alive! Maybe. Think this is him?”).

“You could go to Mr. Stark and request he perform the facial recognition.”

Wincing, Peter shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Mr. Stark might be able to help you find your father, Peter. He has resources you won’t be able to access anywhere else.”

Peter chewed at his lip thoughtfully for a moment and scratched at his head through the mask. “Isn’t that a little...personal? Mr. Stark doesn’t seem like he’d really want to get involved in something like this.”

“I think you might be surprised.”

That...could be true. Karen had been made by Mr. Stark, so she probably knew him better than Peter did. Still, he didn’t say as much. He stared up at the bunk above him, trying to soothe his nerves by once again tracing the grain in the wood with his eyes. Deep breaths, in and out.

In. Out.

In. Out.

In.

Out.

The guy in the street might not have been his father. There was always a chance this was just a seriously screwed up coincidence, that the man just happened to appear how he thought his dad might look if he had aged nine years...

It was difficult to think of anything when his insides felt like they had all spontaneously turned to ice.

“I’ll talk to Mr. Stark tomorrow, test the water a bit before I ask him,” Peter finally decided. “Thanks for everything, Karen.”

“Anytime, Peter.”

With that, Peter silently drew off the mask and stuffed it into his backpack. Collapsing back into the bed, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight; his brain was firmly fixated on whatever future would emerge for him in the morning.

Still, wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Fri, be a dear and start up the coffee maker,” Tony requested in the lighter tone he reserved for his AI’s and bots.

“Another long night, Boss?” FRIDAY asked, her voice too carefully neutral. Tony had to commend himself for instilling enough character into FRIDAY’s program that she could develop such a uniquely passive-aggressive tone, as she used now. Her soft Irish lilt only served to amplify it.“Need I remind you that you are coming up on 40 hours without sleep?”

“Hey, you know as well as I do, baby girl, that I do my best work when I’m half delirious,” he quipped back. “Mark I, a new element, you. Insomnia isn’t a symptom, it’s a strategy.”

To be fair, it wasn’t like he had to keep working. There was no time limit, no sense of immediacy on the project, no lives hanging in the balance. See, the problem was he couldn’t really...sleep, these days. Hadn’t done in several years. Sure, he’d tried pills, meditation, yoga-hell, even flew out an Austrian hypnotist once. Nada. So he sort of...just gave up on trying to sleep. His body would tell him when it was ready to pass out. Usually by actually passing out.

Until then, Tony would tinker in the workshop.

If he couldn’t be healthy, then he’d damn well be productive.

Though clearly still in disagreement, FRIDAY powered up the coffee maker with a resigned, “Whatever you say, Boss.”

After retrieving a mug of the dark brew (like he was going to sully Black Ivory Coffee with cream and sugar; those beans weren’t processed through the digestive tract of elephants to be insulted like that), Tony leaned back against a large tool chest and eyed the projection on the table in front it critically. Rhodey’s leg braces worked fine and well, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be improvements. He’d noticed a slight hitch in the normally even, calculated gate of the colonel earlier that day-or, the other day, a recent day, they all kind of blurred- and Tony was determined to smooth out the problem.

Not that there would be a problem if…if he hadn’t…

Tony jiggled his shoulders and let out a harsh breath through his nose. Setting aside the mug, he clapped his hands together and approached his workbench with intent. “Alright, round one!”

    The thing with insomniac work is that it isn’t really the insomnia that drives you to do shit; it’s the reasons behind the insomnia.

    In Tony’s case, guilt.

    Guilt over his once well-earned title “Merchant of Death”; guilt over driving people like Killian and even Hammer to violent actions affecting so, so many innocent lives; guilt over Ultron and Sokovia; guilt over Pepper, and how could he be harder to live with than Howard?

Guilt over the Avengers, and Civil War, and “Tony, I’m flying dead stick-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony thought he could make out the figure of his father watching him, mocking him. He took a sip of his coffee, steadfastly ignoring it. He knew he was alone in the shop, logically, he knew that, and that his father was long, long dead, killed by Rogers’ brainwashed besty, but even so an uncomfortable chill made its way down Tony’s spine.

At least he could use it for motivation. It had worked well in the past.

Setting aside the coffee, he pushed the leg braces away and pulled up a new set of schematics.

“You have been awake for 46 hours now.”

“Great, what’s the world record?” Tony retorted, already deep into analyzing the base structure of the new suit. The key was in allowing maximum flexibility for Underroo’s gymnastics while giving him greater support should he try another “pulling two halves of a ferry together” type stunt. Enhanced or not, that kind of strain couldn’t be good for him.

Tony may have fucked up every other part of his life, but he’d be damned if he let this kid meet the same fate.

“Wake up, Boss.”

Tony jerked awake with a start, whipping around and blinking rapidly as he tried to gain his bearings.

He was in his shop, sitting at his workbench, where he’d stayed up working on Rhodey’s leg braces and Peter’s upgrade. Right.

When had he even fallen asleep?

“FRIDAY, what time is it?”

“It is 9:47 in the morning. You slept for nearly two hours. Congratulations.”

“God, why do I always program my AI’s to sass me?” He grumbled without heat, rubbing his eyes blearily as he stood slowly and winced at the crick in his neck.

He was getting way too old for falling asleep at his desk.

“Why’d you wake me in the first place? Call from Fury? Another life-threatening emergency?”

“Peter Parker is here to see you. He’s been in the lobby for the last 20 minutes.”

Tony squinted, looking towards the door as if he could peer through it and see the kid. “Did I forget about an appointment with him?”

“No, Boss. Mr. Parker showed up unannounced.”

A long way to come without warning. Tony sniffed a bit, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he pondered allowing him in.

“Hold the kid steady for me, I should...clean up, or...something.”

“You might want to hurry up with that,” FRIDAY said, her tone uncharacteristically tentative. “I think the matter might be urgent.”

That stopped Tony in his tracks. “Show me video of the lobby.”

The kid was sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs just outside. Elbows on his knees, he was pressing his fingertips to his temples, shielding his face mostly from view. Tony didn’t need to see Peter’s expression to confirm FRIDAY’s assessment, though; in the few short months he had known the kid, he didn’t think he’d ever seen him so completely still.

Tony felt a wave of concern laced with fear. The accompanying adrenalin cleared the last bits of haze from his brief nap away and had him on his feet and headed toward the bathroom attached to his workshop. As he went, he commanded, “Give me five minutes, then let the kid in.”  

“Mr. Stark will see you now, Peter.”

Peter jumped at hearing FRIDAY’s Irish lilt filling the room, his heart beating way harder than was reasonable.

Be calm, be calm, deep breaths…

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Peter nodded his head and stood. “Thanks, FRIDAY.”

Peter had only been to the compound once before, and then he had only seen the hallway leading to the conference room. The elevator leading to Mr. Stark’s shop was new to him, and when the doors opened into the expansive room, Peter had to blink and gather his bearings.

‘Tony’s Playplace,’ as Peter had overheard Mr. Rhodes and Happy refer to it once, was a lot less futuristic garage and more hi-tech surgery. Half the equipment appeared to be custom made for Mr. Stark’s particular use, as Peter didn’t recognize their intended function. Half a dozen work tables were spaced throughout the room, as if put there for use by more engineers than just Mr. Stark at one time. Indeed, each had its own set of tool cabinets beside it, and on three of the tables there appeared to be projects in progress. Peter could make out what looked like a prototype for Mr. Rhodes’ leg braces on one table, and something that might belong to an Iron Man suit on another, and on the third…

    Peter dropped his backpack and raced for the table, his excitement momentarily letting his purpose for this trip slip his mind. On the last table, a hologram of the development plans for a new Spiderman suit lit up the area in a soft blue glow. It looked much the same, but the schematics showed plans for reducing the stress on his body through the use of nano-tech. He reached out towards the hologram almost reverently, intending to read up further, when a voice interrupted him.

    “Morning, kid.”

Peter jumped back guiltily and spun around. Mr. Stark had just stepped through a door near the back of the lab, steam swirling out behind him. The older man padded towards him as he roughly took a towel to his damp hair before tossing it to the side carelessly. This was without a doubt the most casual Peter had seen his mentor dressed, with bare feet, dark sweatpants, and a black ACDC t-shirt. Somehow, this seemed a lot more natural for him than the Armani suits.

“G-good morning, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, then winced at the way his voice caught. To cover it he indicated the Spiderman template. “Sorry, I just came in and I saw this up, and I-”

“Nah, you’re good, Underoos,” Mr. Stark cut him off. He patted Peter on the shoulder, then reached out and turned off the hologram. Peter watched it fade with no little longing. “Suit’s for you, after all.” Leaning back against the table, Mr. Stark crossed his arms and looked Peter over critically. “So how was the calculus test?”

The question was so far removed from where Peter’s mind was that it took him a moment to process. When it did, though, his face lit up with a touch of pride. “Oh! Oh, yeah, it went really well! Got a 97%.”

“Hey, that’s what we like to hear!” Mr. Stark leaned forward and lightly smacked Peter’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Not to blow my own horn, but I think that Stark Internship is really paying off.”

The easy smile and playful wink his mentor gave him put Peter somewhat at ease. The Stark Internship had become something of an inside joke between the two of them; whenever Peter did particularly well in school, Tony would credit it on his tutelage (to be fair, it was partly due to him, as Tony had taken to helping Peter with his math and mechanics homework). If Peter did poorly, they’d argue over whether it was due to the internship taking too much of Peter’s time away from homework or Peter’s own “extracurricular activities.”

“And how about English Lit?”

This time, Peter winced. “I, uh, don’t think it’s worth mentioning that one...”

Mr. Stark snorted, but gave Peter a look. “Too much time spent on extracurricular activities.”

            “No, no, I just...don’t really get Shakespeare.”

“Ah, I should get you in touch with Thor. Spend a few hours with him and he’ll have you wearing drapes and speaking Old English in no time,” Mr. Stark quipped as he turned to approach the coffee stand near his workbench.

“It’s actually Early Modern Engl-wait, you can put me in touch with Thor?”

Mr. Stark chuckled as he dumped old coffee grounds into the trash and started to prepare a new pot. “No, kid. Point Break’s been MIA for a year or so now. Plus, I don’t even know how to get in touch with an extraterrestrial God-like being. Guy doesn’t have a cell as far as I know, and he never returns my emails. You want anything to drink?”

The teenager shrugged a bit, crossing his arms. “I could have some coffee, I guess.”

“Nope, not at your age you’re not. How about some Korean Banana Milk?”

“Seriously, you have Korean Banana Milk? That’s so cool! It’s one of my favorites!”

“What a coinkydink.” Mr. Stark reached into the mini-fridge below and pulled one out, tossing it to Peter behind him. As Peter went to take an eager sip, Tony continued.“So anything exciting happen out in the field for our Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman?”

Nerves shot through Peter like lightning, and he choked on the suddenly flavorless drink. “Um...define...define exciting?”

“Oh, that reaction isn’t suspicious at all. What kind of trouble did you run into?”

Childhood trauma, Peter thought. “Just, you know, a few pickpockets, a mugging, some...unidentifiable attacker. I handled it- him- though.”

“What do you mean by “unidentifiable attacker,” exactly?” Mr. Stark said slowly, turning to look at him.

“Uh...”

“If I may, Boss, I believe Mr. Parker is thinking of the unidentified alien creature that appeared on Bleeker Street yesterday afternoon.”

“The what?” Mr. Stark spun around, a look of horror on his face. “FRIDAY, pull up reports on the incident.”

“Oh, no. I mean, it was nothing. Just a little, um tentacled creature. No one was hurt or anything. You don’t need to see the reports…” Peter started, then paused as it occurred to him that somewhere in those reports might be another image of the man who made be he father and that he might not get a better chance to ask Mr. Stark what he so desperately wanted to know.

Just the thought of the question turned Peter’s stomach to ice once again.

Distantly, Peter listened to Mr. Stark argue with FRIDAY over withholding reports on such an attack on New York, too distracted trying to not throw up the Egg McMuffin he’d snagged on his way for breakfast. God, this feeling sucked. His stomach trembled at the thought of telling Mr. Stark about his dad, afraid of being seen by his mentor as crazy or delusional, or maybe exceeding the parameters of their relationship. At the same time, he was dying to talk about it, get it off his chest, figure out what the hell was going on. What had been going on for the last nine years. A familiar tightness started to take over his chest, and Peter forced himself to let out a breath.

“Mr. Stark,” he started slowly. “Actually, if you wanted to bring up the reports, I had a part of the fight I wanted to talk to you about. Well, I mean, not the fight itself but just after. But, um… it’s kind of personal.”

The mostly one-sided argument with his AI ceased almost immediately as Tony turned to look at Peter. The only indication that he recognized the seriousness of the moment was a split-second tightening of the muscles in his shoulders at the initial statement. He relaxed again almost instantly and replied, “Sure thing, kid. What do you want me to pull up?”

Sucking in another breath, Peter let it out slowly before pressing forward. “I, um. The thing is, after the fight, I...think I saw my dad.”

Something shadowy appeared in Tony’s eyes as he looked Peter up and down. “You mean your birth father?”

Peter swallowed and nodded.

“He...passed away, several years ago, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And what do you mean, you think you saw him, like as a...hallucination?”

“I really don’t know Mr. Stark,” Peter said, anxiety clear in his voice.

Tony must have heard it because he took a breath and it was with a much more even tone that he asked his next question. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long has this been happening? Was it just the one time?”

“No,” Peter said hesitantly. “It’s been happening ever since he left me with May and Ben, when I was about six.”

Surprisingly, the air around Mr. Stark relaxed a bit more at the statement. Grabbing a nearby stool, Mr. Stark rolled it Peter’s way and indicated he should sit down. Leaning back against the coffee bar, he stuck his hands in his pockets. “And have you spoken to anyone about this before?”

Biting his lip, Peter shook his head at first as he sat down, then paused, and nodded quickly. “No, I mean, I’ve gone to therapists in the past about it. I just...haven’t told anyone else about seeing him again, except Karen.”

Mr. Stark’s lip twitched at the mention of Karen, but otherwise his expression remained somber. “So why come to me about this? Why not Aunt Hottie? And don’t get me wrong,” he added as Peter opened his mouth to respond. “I’m...glad, that you did. I just don’t know why this time is any different.”

“Because...I’m not so sure that I’ve been hallucinating him.”

A pause. “How do you mean?” Mr. Stark asked carefully.

“Well...Karen’s camera was able to pick him up, Mr. Stark.”

After a longer pause Tony asked, “So Karen saw him too?”

“Yeah, she did. He was even in the video playback.”

“You mean the baby monitor protocol?” Tony asked with the ghost of a smile.

Peter rolled his eyes at the name but nodded in agreement.  

“And what would you like me to do?”

“Can you do some kind of facial recognition? Maybe see if you can track him down, figure out where he’s been, where he lives-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, kid,” Mr. Stark said, raising a hand up placatingly. “Listen, I get that you're excited at the idea that your old man might still be alive, but-” He cut himself off, and chewed at his lip as he looked at Peter with uncertainty.

Peter plowed ahead before his mentor could finish his thought. “Please, Mr Stark. I have to know. This is...this is my dad we’re talking about.”

Mr. Stark hung his head with a deep sigh. Looking up at Peter through his eyelashes, he spoke gravely. “You do understand that you might not like the answer you get, right? It might not be him, and you’ll have to accept that. If it is him, then...there’s a serious question about why he hasn’t been around, why he let you think he’s dead, all of it. And I can do a detailed facial recognition, look for scars and moles and specifics like that, but even if it says it’s him, and I track him down, it might just be a guy that looks a hell of a lot like him. Chances are it was just a huge coincidence.”

Reaching out, Mr. Stark gripped Peter’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want to bring you down, okay kid? I’ll do it, I just want you to be aware of what you might be setting yourself up for. No false hope. I don’t deal in that, especially not with you.”

Peter’s nerves settled into something less all-encompassing and more simmering. Despite the fatalistic feeling his mentor’s words might induce in some, his heavy dose of realism was exactly what Peter needed to hear. Almost as soon as Mr. Stark finished talking, he found himself nodding his head.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

*******

I very nearly ended this on a cliffhanger again, but that would have just been heavy-handed and forced. You'll get that exciting tidbit next chapter. ;)

Also, chapters 3 and 4 might not be up on Mondays, just because I have a fic to finish editing for a Yu-Gi-Oh Big Bang I participated in. That has to be done by the 18th, so after that things SHOULD be on schedule.

The title for the next chapter is "Coming Back to Life." Also by Pink Floyd, as all songs chosen for chapter titles will be.

[lifeaccordingtonixxie]

Autism Speaks (the ugly truth)

OK. So I talk a lot about my future in-laws, my fiance, but not a lot about my family. So this is going to be a little just about me and my family, and experiences. But mainly, about Autism and Autism awareness.

My parents had me in Oct of 92, and their lives changed. They had their first child, me a perfect daughter ( :D ) But what they had no idea was in February of 97 their lives would forever never be normal. My life would never be normal. My amazing, thoughtful, and often crazy little brother was born. 

Right off the bat there were problems. I was young still so I don’t remember much. But I do remember my brother having seizures, and having to get injections and shots, and get poked and tests ran frequently. Him being on steroid injections to help control the seizures I’m pretty sure. And my mom would do all of this from home.

I just want to give my mom and dad the absolute biggest shout out! My mom especially she stopped working to be a full time mom to a special needs son, and a very active daughter. She gave my brother shots, took him to Dr.’s appointments, therapies, and everything growing up. While juggling all of my brothers set backs, she had to deal with all of mine. I was an active child, I did sports and piano/music lessons, but I also had my fair share of trips to Riley Children's Hospital for my what we thought then was a pediatric heart murmur (turned out to just be normal still have it) and my renal system wasn’t so good as a child. So I was also in and out of dr.’s offices and hospital visits and stays. So my parents are rock stars in my eyes. 

Anyway back to my little brother. Nicholas (Nic, bub) is my favorite person ever! I hate him sometimes I’m not even going to lie.

If my memory serves me right, Nic was diagnosed pretty early in life with Autism, and fortunately he is highly functioning. But him being high functioning was only thanks to endless Therapies as a child. We would spend our week, outside of school at therapies, OT, speech, pretty much anything you could think to help him function like a somewhat “normal” person. 

Our lives were never normal. I grew up quick. My brother needed my help and I’ve always just had the care giving personality. Anytime I had the opportunity to help with therapy I did. We had people coming into our house to help him, and we would go to the health center to get him his therapies. Thankfully at the time it was right across the street from Fairbanks park, so ya know park visits for me! Him stimming was the worst time for me. I was always so embarrassed, so not thankful at the time to have a special needs brother. He was just my brother, and I hated that he was embarrassing me. I was very self conscious growing up I mean who am I kidding I still am. But him flailing his arms, moaning, making just weird movements, to a child is embarrassing. So I only could imagine how bub feels when that happens to him. I never really knew normal. I had my normal.

I thankfully had friend, who accepted my brother like I never knew one of my friends would. And as we got closer in our friendship, and my parents basically accepted her as their child, she accepted my brother. (I’m crying writing this segment, because I can’t thank her enough for how much she means to Nic) But the best part, Nic accepted her! Which for an autistic child, it’s harder for them to make relationships, and friendships alone. It was hard to get that relationship with me, his biological sister. Yes, we’ve always had the sibling bond, but it’s different when you become friends as siblings. 

My best friend, mentioned in the above paragraph, lived next door and we hung out basically every day. She became a part of our family, and that moment changed my life. She was and still is the sister I always wanted, and well needed. 18 years ago we met thank god for that. I could never have asked for a better best friend, sister, and even more a bigger sister for my brother. And to be honest he likes her more than me. She’s the fun sister. Fine by me. I know he still loves me. But my lovely Catherine took in my brother, accepted him for everything that he is, and treated him normally. The first time, one of my friends wasn’t awkward around my brother, she just knew, and she let it go. And I could not be more thankful, and more appreciative of the sister she became for him. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, and some higher power whatever you believe in, gave me her. But she will get her own special shout out blog/vlog soon.

Growing up explaining autism to anyone was difficult. I didn’t really know how to explain it’s just a developmental disorder. “ a developmental disorder of variable severity that is characterized by difficulty in social interaction and communication and by restricted or repetitive patterns of thought and behavior.” The exact definition of Autism. I just said my brother has Autism, and he’s a little different. Try not to stare. 

The stares. They’re the hardest. When Nic would stim in public, we would get so many stares. You can just feel it, honestly. And that’s the worst. I didn’t want to go anywhere with my brother. Like anywhere that wasn’t the dr, which we still got stares there too, or therapies. I didn’t want to go to the park with him, he was embarrassing. The stares were embarrassing, And it makes you just want to go off on people. But I’m a quiet, and reserved kind of girl, well I was back then. As we got older especially when I started driving, I took my brother anywhere I could. He was older, he had endless hours of therapies, to make him the extremely high functioning person he is today. And I could not be more proud of him. He recently just started painting. and OMG! This young man is amazing!

Siblings don’t get the attention they normally need. I didn’t. Plain and simple. I ended up spending a lot of my time with my great-grandparents. I was my grandpa’s little girl. That’s where I got my attention. I knew mom and dad needed to give bub all the attention they could, even at a young age. They were helping him, I needed to be self sufficient and take responsibility for myself. Let me tell you all I did was go to my grandpa cry and get whatever I wanted. I was spoiled to a fucking t I was spoiled rotten. Grandpa made sure I had everything. The newest barbie, or whatever toy I wanted. The best piano lessons, voice lessons, athletics, anything I wanted. I got. I feel like it would have been different, the relationship with them, if my brother wasn’t special needs. So for that I’m thankful. People really don’t talk about the siblings of special needs. Growing up my mom started a parents of autism support group, and at the time I was old enough to be the supervising child for the kids on the spectrum and their siblings. (well really myself and the other older siblings just hung out) I met people there that were purely awesome. And I got to meet other siblings, share war stories, and just be there for each other. I strongly suggest siblings of special needs find their niche, find someone who understands. And this is another chance for a great shout out to the fiance, who also grew up with siblings who had problems, so he gets it. It makes life better. He is also the oldest so he understands the pressure of helping take care of them. 

Autism is one hell of a disability, but creates the most genuine people who surround the situation. So thank you to the friends of our family who have stuck around all these years. I love and appreciate every single one of you, who has accepted our crazy little family, and loved us anyway.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read our story, I needed to put this out in the world because it’s just kind of important for awareness and people understanding what daily typical life is like. 

I’m going to link a youtube vlog I watch daily. They show the autistic life as real as it can possibly be. Go check them out, and give them a follow.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZwd0qneWpqUqLnM5nwZpsA

[salted-barbed-wire]

Lessons to be Learned 3

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!!!! For good this time. In celebration, here’s the chapter I was working on right before I had to shut down the ol’ laptop for what has it been now, two weeks? I’ve missed you all, hope you enjoy this even though it’s fucking long as hell!

Chapter One Chapter Two Master List

Summary: A week after the little encounter with Mr. Ambrose and Prinicpal AJ, the reader is frustrated with the secret. It seems that her teachers can forget about the whole thing easier than she could. Or at least she thinks… Word count:4252 (I told you, long as hell) Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

TAG LIST(It’s been a while since I’ve been here so this might not be accurate. Remind me if you want to be tagged and I’ve forgotten. Or if you want to be added I’ll do it next round of junk)

@i-kneel-for-king-loki @straight-outta-the-asylum @ridingmoxley @paradoxical-opheliac @ambrosegirlforever @wrestlingnoob @m-a-t-91 @livingthestrongstyle @lip-sync @princess3733 @nickysmum1909 @ambrose-asylum-ft-mitch @shieldlovereve @jubaleelovehate @xstylesxclashx @the-geekgoddes @geekoftv @stardustmoonlightflower @lovelikelove @ashleyvc88 @cesaros-smile @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @alexispoo @llowkeys @artgurl559-blog

“So, you’re awfully quiet today.” Alexa said as she sipped on some apple juice.

I tore my gaze away from the bread of the turkey sandwich I had slowly been picking a part and looked at my best friend. Her blue eyes examining me as she chewed on her cob sandwich. I was suddenly aware of all the noise that surrounded us in the cafeteria.

“Just a lot on my mind.” I offered a half smile.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

My mind flashed through my detention session with Mr. Ambrose and Principal Styles a week ago. Dean’s body on top of mine. AJ’s eyes all on me. I felt a flush trying to break through my cheeks and my panties begin to feel wet, but I forced the thoughts out of my head.

“I’m fine, Alexa. It’s just been a rough week.” I insisted.

The concern in her eyes remained, “True. First, Mr. Ambrose knocks you to the back of the classroom. Then Principal AJ harping at you for anything you do at your locker.” Alexa rolled her eyes, “Apparently, we aren’t allowed to even have a discussion in the hallway.”

This was all true. Monday, when I returned from a weekend off from my little incident with my teachers, everything had changed. All my classmates walked into our second hour class with Mr. Ambrose only come to find that he’s rearranging our seating chart. My heart sank when he moved me to the back, right corner of the classroom. Any time I rose my hand to answer one of his questions, he’d pretend I wasn’t there. My prose I wrote over the weekend even got a ‘C’. A ‘C’! I had never gotten a ‘C’ in Mr. Ambrose’s class. Ever.

Then to top it off, Principal Styles barked at Alexa and I to “keep moving” or to “stop being disruptive during school hours” every time I was at my locker. Of course, my locker was right across the hall from his office so it was difficult to avoid him. I had planned on asking Alexa if I could just share a locker with her at the other end of the hallway, away from Mr. Styles. It was all I could do driving home every night not to tear up.

“It’ll get better.” I half said to myself, “Prom is in a few weeks, then we just have two more weeks before we graduate.”

Alexa held out her water bottle in a toast gesture, “Cheers to that.” She giggled. “Speaking of which, have you found a date to prom?”

I sighed, Here we go again, I thought. “No, Alexa, I have not. I really doubt I’m going to at this last minute.”

She huffed, “Well at least tell me you’ve picked out a dress.”

I sipped on my own water, “Why would I need a dress if I’m not going?”

“NOT GOING!” She said all too loud. “(Y/N)! You are too going! It’s your senior prom!”

“Alexa!” I hissed, trying to get her to calm down. “Shut up. I didn’t go last year, why do I need to go this year?”

“Because it’s your SENIOR PROM!” Her voice became louder still.

“Shhhh..” I hushed her. Gazes were starting to look at us, teachers and students alike. “If we get in trouble so help me God…”

“I hope we do!” She kept her voice loud. “Promise you’ll come dress shopping with me tomorrow or I’ll keep yelling!”

I rolled my eyes. “You are such a child sometimes.”

She cleared her throat, “I’M SORRY! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“FINE!” I yelled back, “I’ll go look at dresses. Jeez.”

“Yay!” She squealed. “I’m so excited.”

I glared at my best friend, “That makes one of us.

—–

Alexa left school after lunch to go to a dentist appointment, leaving me walking through crowded halls. The final bell had just rung, dismissing all of us for the day but most student hung around to make plans for the weekend or to head to after school practices. With prom just weeks away, it seemed to be the main topic on everyone’s lips.

I sighed, Prom is just not my thing. I don’t want to really go with anyone. Alexa has Murphy, I shot a glance towards a group of boys that were being pushy with each other. Buddy Murphy smiled at me and gave me a nod. I returned and kept walking towards my locker. Even if there was someone who wanted to ask me, I don’t know if I would want to go with anyone except for Dean or AJ. My heart clenched as I walked passed Mr. Ambrose’s closed door. Not that they could or would ever want anything to do with me again. A few more steps and I reached my locker. 03-26-20. I put in the code. Dean doesn’t even acknowledge my presence and AJ…

“Miss. (Y/L/N)!” I heard a low southern drawl pronounce my last name from behind me.

I turned to see Principal Styles standing behind me arms folded over his chest. His blue eyes were clouded over with anger. I wasn’t sure whether I was excited or scared to see him standing there like that. On one hand I was in trouble for something on the other, I had this sexy, dark haired man glaring me down like he could give me some punishment that I might enjoy.

“Yes, Mr. Styles?” I asked, trying not to let me fear or my excitement be known.

“Do you know what time it is?” He asked, walking over to me.

I glanced around the hallway, most of my classmates were gone; off to enjoy their weekend. I then shifted to the watch on my wrist, “It’s 4:15.”

Principal Styles nodded, “That’s right. What are you still doing wandering around my hallways?”

“Getting my books, sir.” I said trying to keep my voice steady.

He huffed, “You better hurry up, no loitering after school hours.” AJ then turned on his heels back into his office.

My head spun a little with the anger that was boiling inside of me. Five days, I could feel it bubbling, I’ve been putting up with nothing but attitude from these two. They cornered me into doing something I’ve fantasized about, that obviously they have as well, but now they’re punishing me for it? There was a low, involuntary growl in the back of my throat. NO MORE!

“Excuse me, sir?” I said firmly to AJ. He stopped and half turned to face me. I let my eyes wander his body. He was wearing navy blue dress pants, brown dress shoes, a tie, and a long sleeve white button down that had the sleeves rolled up. His arms and chest were barely contained by the material, something I never noticed before because he always wore a sports coat or a suit jacket. “Where exactly in my school handbook does it state that students are not allowed to loiter after school?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Would you like me to give you and exact page and paragraph number?” He started to turn again.

He’s not going to treat me like this anymore, not unless I want him to. “Actually, I do.” I hesitated, a half grin planted on my lips, knowing that if I said this one last thing, it would send him over. AJ turned to look me up and down, as if to see if I was seriously giving him that attitude he heard. “Or do you not know your own rules, Daddy?”

AJ stopped, so did my heart. His blue eyes searched the hallway, probably seeing if any students or staff had seen or heard anything. “My office. NOW!” He shouted at me, causing me to jump. I scooted past him into his office, trying to hide my smile.

I had been in AJ’s office before, never in trouble, usually when he needed one of the other students to be put into the tutoring program I oversaw. I hadn’t ever really looked around his office until this exact moment. The desk was a dark cherry wood, mostly plain, but still elegant. There were to other doors that I assumed were closets of some sorts on opposing walls. They each had full length mirrors on the doors. Shelves were lined with awards, old copies of text books, and yearbooks. There were newspapers framed with articles written about people who were alumni of my school. There was very little clutter, but it somehow felt full in the tiny office space.

“Sit.” AJ commanded as he slammed the door shut behind me.

I put my hands on my hips, “Why? So you can bark at me some more? I don’t think so. I think you, me, and Mr. Ambrose need to have a talk about what happened a week ago.” He took a step toward me, then another, focusing on what I was saying. “I don’t appreciate the way you’ve been treating me. Can the three of us just get along until I graduate?”

AJ looked me up and down. “How has Mr. Ambrose been treating you?”

I looked at him puzzled, “Does it matter?”

He took hold of my ponytail, forced me to look at him dead in the eyes, “Enough with attitude or your punishment will only get worse.”

I shuddered, “P-p-punishment?”

AJ smirked, “That’s right, darlin’.” He released my hair and walked around to sit on his desk chair. Pulling out his cell phone he typed something quickly, then set it back down on the desk. AJ looked at me with a hunger in his eyes, “Come tell Daddy what Mr. Ambrose has been doing to you.”

I began to sit down on a chair in front of his desk, “No, no, sweetheart.” I looked up to see him calling me with a finger, patting his lap with the other hand. “Come sit on Daddy’s lap.” I hesitated, Oh boy. “Don’t be shy.” AJ coo-ed.

As I walked around the desk to AJ’s open lap, there was a wetness building up between my legs. What kind of punishment is this? I wondered.

I sat down on his left thigh, I could feel something beginning to harden through his pants. His hand rest on my thigh, pushing aside my skirt so he touched my skin. My body trembled under his warm, soft touch. AJ smelled warm and musky, but there was something hidden under the musk. A fruit. Like, peaches?

“Now, tell me, sweetheart, what has Mr. Ambrose been doing to you?”

I swallowed hard, “Nothing, Mr. Styles.”

He tsked and gave a light swat to my rear. “It’s, Daddy, darlin’.” He corrected me.

A small, quiet moan escaped my lips from the light spanking, “Yes, Daddy.” I noted the satisfied smile on his face.

“You say Mr. Ambrose hasn’t done anything to you?” He looked confused, “Are you lying to Daddy?” His palm rubbed my ass again.

“No, Daddy!” I bit my lip, my hips were grinding on his thigh. “That’s what he’s done; nothing. He put in the back of the class, he pretends like I don’t exist, and he gave me a low score on my last homework assignment.”

“My poor, love.” He hummed, “You’re not getting the attention you deserve, are you?”

I shook my head in response.

His hand came down on my backside again, harder this time. “Don’t forget who I am. You must use your words, darlin’.” His hand that had been on my thigh brushed up my flesh under my skirt, “Do you want Daddy to take care of you?” His fingers tugged at my lacey panties, tracing circles on my inner thigh, right next to were my body needed him most.

“Yes, please, Daddy.” I moaned.

His lips pressed against mine, kissing me more passionately than anyone before him. I eagerly parted my lips to allow his tongue full access. He explored my mouth, teased my tongue, causing the pool between my thighs to moisten further.

I felt his fingers move to my slit. AJ’s thumb rubbed against my clit as he pushed two fingers inside of me. I moaned against his mouth as they pressed against my entrance, pumping in and out.

“Your shirt,” he whispered as his lips trailed down my neck, “Remove it.”

I started working on one button at a time, my fingers shaking as my orgasm neared. Once opened, I let the oxford fall off my shoulders and reached back to remove my bra with AJ’s kisses trailing all over my collar bone. I cried out as he latched onto my left nipple.

“Shhh, darlin’.” He whispered against my skin, “Do not come until I say so.”

I whimpered, “Yes, Daddy.”

He continued torturing my body, making me shiver with every movement of his fingers, every flick of his tongue. I didn’t know how I was going to make it, I was going to explode before AJ let me come.

AJ slid his fingers out of me and remove his lips from my breast. I whined as the sensation of him disappeared.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Daddy’s got something better for you.” He smirked as he reached down to his pants that were filled a growing bulge. He undid the button and the zipper. I watched hungrily as he pushed the fabric aside and allowed his erection spring forward.

“Fuck!” I whispered. I had been right last week when I watched AJ jerk off to Dean and I; he was huge! I bit my lip at the thought of trying to fit him inside of me.

AJ chuckled as if he could read my thoughts, “It’ll fit.” He assured me, helping me adjust on his lap so my entrance hovered over it. I lowered my pussy down onto his shaft, grunting as I adjusted to his girth. “Tell me something, darlin’. How many times did you come with Mr. Ambrose?”

“Two, Daddy.” I admitted, feeling myself clenching around him.

AJ simply smirked, “I’ll be sure to double that. Kitten deserves some real attention.”

He took hold of my hips by my uniform skirt and pushed me up and down along his member. I moaned as the head of his cock rubbed over my sensitive G spot. I was already so close and we had just started moving.

“Can I come yet, Daddy?” I begged.

“Not yet. Wait until I say so.”

I whimpered again, not knowing how long I could hold on for. I circled my hips up and down on his lap, grinding on his cock. It felt so good to have him inside of me. AJ’s lips grazed the skin of my collar bone as his lips made their way down to my breasts again.

“You’re so soft, Miss. (Y/L/N). So warm. So tight.” His tongue flicked against my right nipple and my walls squeezed him again. His hips began to thrust up into me, still holding my waist to steady my body. His mouth wrapped around my nipple and his pace quicken.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My orgasm came crashing down, causing me to squeeze AJ even tighter as I cried out for him. His thrusts stopped and his hand raked across my ass. I yelped at the stinging sensation on my cheek.

AJ tsked again and stood up, knocking me to the floor. “Daddy told you to wait to come until he told you, didn’t he?”

I nodded.

AJ grabbed my ponytail again and pushed me forward between his ankles so he could give my behind another good smack. I could feel my butt turning red from his palm. He let me up then pushed his pants and boxers to the ground. He kicked off his shoes and pants.

“Your skirt, shoes, and socks need to go.”

I quickly stood and did as I was told. Removing everything except for my panties. I stood there almost completely naked and watched AJ loosen his blue and red striped tie. He laid it down nice and neat on the desk, next to where I stood.

AJ’s eyes looked me over, “You’re so beautiful, Miss. (Y/L/N). And with the mirrors on my supply closets it’s nice to get a full view of you.” His gaze shifted behind me to the closet door. “I can see my hand print.”

I blushed. “Yes, Daddy.”

“On your knees.” He told me. I knelt before him, his cock was in line with my mouth. I knew what he wanted. “Now, be a good girl and suck Daddy’s cock.”

I took one hand and guided it into my mouth. My lips wrapped around his member and I pumped him in and out of my mouth. Using my hand as an extension, I heard him moan in pleasure. “Good girl.” AJ praised me.

The praise only made me quicken my movements. The taste of his precum was on my tongue already. I felt him bend, limiting my movements. His hand lightly tapped on my ass, spreading my cheeks. “You should see yourself in this mirror, love.” AJ’s fingers tugged on my thong.

I whimpered as his finger trailed passed my butt and down to my wetness. My body still ached for more of him. He stood up straight, leaving my body in need of him still.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Clean daddy’s dick off. Can you taste yourself?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I whispered with a flick of my tongue, then plunged him right back into my mouth.

I looked up to see him pulling the tie off the desk, “Your punishment for being so mouthy.” He smirked and took my hands and tied them behind my back. My mouth could only go so far down his shaft and it was tough not to get the momentum going that I had before.

AJ must have gotten impatient because his hand took hold of my ponytail, keeping my head still while his hips thrust in my face. I felt my gag reflexes kick in and my throat closed around his cock. I choked.

“This is what happens when you don’t do as you’re told, darlin’.” He smiled pulling me off him.

“Yes, daddy.” I croaked, tears filled my eyes from the gagging.

AJ leaned over and pushed aside papers and pens from his desk, “Lay down.” He instructed.

I walked over to the desk and, with AJ’s hand guiding me, laid across the top of it. My hands were still bound behind me and the cool wood of the desktop pushing them into my back was slightly uncomfortable. AJ plopped down in his desk chair and scooted in between my legs. I groaned as the tip of his finger traced patterns along the outside of my slit, teasing me.

“Daddy, please?” I begged.

“You look so tasty, darlin’. I want to savor you.”

There was a knock at the door and I jumped.

“Boss?” A voice said on the other side of AJ’s door.

It was Dean. My heart raced and I began to be filled with panic.

“Come in, Mr. Ambrose.” AJ yelled.

“AJ!” I rasped. I tried to sit up or roll off the desk, but couldn’t without use of my hands.

His fingertips lightly slapped against my clit and my head fell back, mouth agape in a moan. “Daddy!” He hissed back.

Dean walked into the office and his eyes flew open wide, quickly making sure to shut the door behind him. He looked us over. “What’s going on here?” He demanded.

“Miss. (Y/L/N) was just telling me how you weren’t giving her enough attention.” AJ smirked, his finger slipped inside of me and I moaned at his touch. Goosebumps ran up my body. “I called you in here to show you how to properly give a woman like her attention.”

I heard a low growl rumble through Dean’s chest, “I refuse to-“

“Ah, ah, ah.” AJ wagged his free finger. “You’ll stay here and watch or I’ll out us all.”

My heart stopped and I looked up at AJ, “Wha-“ His fingers moved again causing me to writhe with pleasure.

“You’re bluffing.” Ambrose huffed.

“If you really believe that, leave. But are you really will to risk getting yourself or Kitten here in trouble?”

I could see the wheels in Dean’s head turning. He was weighing out his options. He looked at me laying there on AJ’s desk. His eyes trailed down my body then looked back up at my face. He sighed.

“Fine.”

He sat in one the chairs.

Suddenly, AJ’s tongue brushed against my clit. My eyes rolled back again and he began tormenting me with his tongue.

“You’re right, Ambrose.” He looked up at Dean, “She tastes as good as she looks.” He slipped a finger inside of me, “Come when you’re ready this time, sweet pea.” He told me gently and his lower lip pouted against my already sensitive bud.

My cunt moistened and my hips bucked against his head. AJ’s mouth was just as talented as the rest of his body and soon I melted against him. Crying out and moaning his name.

“Oh my God, Daddy.” I whispered as he stood up to meet my moans with kisses.

He slipped his member inside of me while my core was still curled from the force of my second orgasm.

“Jesus,” He grumbled, wrapping my legs around his hips. “You tightened right back up, like I’ve never been inside of you before.” His thrusts were deep and hard. My tailbone crushed my hands into the desk. “Do you like the way Daddy fucks you, (Y/N)?”

I whimpered while his fingers dug into my skin, “Yes Daddy.”

AJ licked his lips, eyes focused on my bouncing breasts, “Maybe you should Mr. Ambrose, Darlin’. Tell him how good it feels.”

My head leaned back, Dean was upside down in my prospective. There was a bulge in his pants that was noticeable, although he was attempting to keep it covered by his hand. I bit my lip and locked eyes with him, “It feels so good how Daddy fucks me.” Anger flashed through Ambrose’s eyes. He’s jealous?

AJ’s thumb pressed against my clit and the pressure sent me close to the edge. I turned my attention back to AJ, moaning and whimpering. “Can I come yet, Daddy?” I begged. “Please?”

AJ smirked, “Yes, baby. Come for Daddy.” He leaned down and took my perked nipple in his mouth, allowing his teeth to graze along the flesh.

I cried out, my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My third orgasm crashed over me, and I was starting to feel exhausted. My breathing was heavy and I could feel a flush coming from my neck through my face. AJ was sweating but still looking like he could continue for hours.

AJ helped me up and stood me up as best he could. I leaned my weight against him, beginning to feel a little like a ragdoll. AJ positioned me in front of him so I was facing the mirror on the back of the supply closet door.

“Look.” He whispered.

I did. My face was redder than I thought it was. My hair was frizzed out and falling out of my ponytail.  There were bruises forming on my hips where his fingers had held me. I was sure that my backside was covered with bruises as well from my knuckles being pressed into it.

AJ gave me a kiss on the neck, “You’re mine.” He whispered so only I could hear it.

In that moment, I forgot Dean was in the room. I forgot that I was only in high school and fucking my principal. I nodded, “Yes, Daddy.” I told him back, “I am yours.”

I heard him moan and he spun me to lay face down on his desk. AJ’s palm kneaded my ass. “She’s mine.” He growled.

Dean was glaring at AJ. I could hear a low, animalistic growl coming from his body. His eyes moved to me and I realized what I had done. My heart broke.

AJ slammed his shaft back into me again and again. I knew he was close and I could feel my fourth orgasm nearing. But I was too distracted to fully enjoy it. I wanted to reach out to Dean. I wanted him to know I loved him just as much as I loved AJ.. I love them both.

AJ’s cock rolled over my gspot for a final time. “Dean!” I whined as my orgasm shuddered down my spine.

AJ came, spilling his load into me. “What did you say?” He gasped out of breath.

I looked up to see Dean’s eyes were wide with surprise. His mouth slowly turned up into a satisfied grin. “I think we both heard what she said, AJ.”

A hard pain shot through my ass. AJ’s hand stung against my flesh. It stung enough to make me cry out and my eyes filled with tears knowing I had fucked up completely. AJ pulled out of me and gathered his clothes up.

“Get out. Both of you.” Principal Styles growled and walked into the supply closet to get dressed, slamming the door behind him.

I let out a sob. “Wait. AJ!”

“Don’t cry.” Dean said, standing next to me with my clothes. “I’ll treat you better the next time I have you.”

“What?” I looked confused.

Dean simply winked and gave me a light kiss on the forehead before leaving me alone to get dressed in AJ’s empty office.

[subtleastequila-blog]

Life’s a Garden, Dig it

I quit my job Saturday.

For the past two months, I was a life insurance salesman for a company that provided “permanent benefits” for union members: truck drivers, firefighters, auto workers, brick layers. You know, the guys with calloused hands that give a depressing sigh every time they sit down. The all-American blue collar workers, if you will.

I put “permanent benefits” in quotes because that’s what we agents, or “benefits specialists,” were taught to tell our clients what we were providing, NOT life insurance (even though we were).

Why play word games? Because the average plumber cringes when he hears insurance. You see, Joe Schmo already feels cucked by State Farm doing a rear-naked choke to his checking account for his home and auto, so the last thing he wants to hear about after a shitty day at work is how he’s going to die some day and needs to cough over more bacon for life insurance, especially from a young, slick-talking punk that hasn’t turned a wrench in his life.

The company knew this, which is exactly why the words “life insurance” are not present on the four-page script, or presentation if you will, that they require all their employees to memorize. 

Consequently, the clientele’s prejudiced distaste for the product is already enough to make the job a bitch-and-a-half, but of course, there are two other bitches I haven’t touched on yet.

For one, you are paid by commission. No salary, no hourly wage. If you don’t make a sale, you don’t have enough change for a McChicken.

Secondly, you are required to work at least 10 hours a day, every day. Even Sundays. If you do the math, we’re talking a healthy 70 hours a week, or 49 hours in which you are awake and not working.

Out of those seven days, usually two are reserved for “call days”: days in which each agent calls through a list of about 100 to 150 designated “leads” –– sheets listing a union member’s name, address, phone number and union –– for eight hours with a quick, 10-minute break at the end of each hour. 

Just enough for a piss and a chat.

Now these leads consist of union members that had requested a small, free accidental death insurance policy (usually between $2,000 and $4,000) by filling out a 3x5 reply card that they had received in the mail. Many of these cards had been filled out years ago, making it highly possible that pipe-fitter John Dingle from Waterford had completely forgotten about the damn thing.

What made matters worse is that new agents, received crappy, old leads, meaning that many of the members in the pack had already been contacted by another agent within the past two years and had either declined to buy the “option B benefits” after he or she got their free stuff or had been uninterested in the no-cost benefits after finding out that an agent had to “drop them off” at their home to receive them. 

As you can imagine, most of these calls are ignored. Many that are received end up in hang-ups or an insistence in disinterest. Every once in a while you’ll get a guy who’ll drop a string of fucks, and rarely will you get an appointment set.

To be specific, you’re lucky to get 10 appointments set after 150 calls. 

After a call day, I’d usually get home from the office at about 10:30 p.m., exhausted and demotivated enough to make Eor sound like Tony Robbins.

In less than 12 hours, I would be out in the “field,” handing out some no-cost benefits and trying to persuade them into buying their permanent option B benefits (life insurance) as the script would say.

I didn’t count, but more than half of the appointments I set would no-show me, meaning they would either try to ignore your knock on the door thinking you would assume no one is home even though there were two cars sitting in the driveway, or they simply were gone and had completely forgotten about the appointment (even though I told them on the phone to write down when I’d be there).

It's bad enough that I must use my own gas and drive 25 minutes to your home just so you can give me piss-poor attitude while not making enough change to fall through a car seat. At least respect my time enough to be present at your own home and say no to my face.

However, even if every member committed to their appointment, this job would still be akin to putting bamboo under your fingernails, which is why 70 percent of a manager’s job is to motivate his agents, sometimes in the most annoying ways possible. For example, they required us to post messages at least once every 30 minutes on our Group Me –– a messaging board app –– log jamming it with motivational quotes, corny pictures, annoying GIFs and encouragement. Usually, this was done after someone had posted they had made a sale, added an appointment to their schedule, collected a referral, or were door knocking a member’s home.

Since roughly 11 agents comprised the Group Me board, the notifications were non-stop for the entire day you were in your car or in a home. Each minute I would hear my phone buzz, only receive a picture of a Lion leaping out of a pond with the words “rise and grind” placed in the lower-third.

Ah yes. Truly inspirational. Nothing fills my balls with testosterone more than a Lion leaping for a salmon.

No surprise, it didn’t take long to realize this gig wasn’t my cup of Joe. This past week was my first week alone in the field, and I quite Saturday at around 4 p.m. Now, my trial and error period with the company could have been completely avoided if the hiring superiors would have told me the hours, day-to-day tasks and commitments the position required.. But think about it from the company’s perspective. Why would you be completely transparent to candidates about a job that takes 100 of your time and pays out only when you’re making sales?

If they told everyone the ins and outs at the jump, they’d be lucky to hire 5 percent of their candidates. Moreover, many of their promising candidates – which I’ll be cocky enough to say I was one of them – would have turned down the offer on site.

Nevertheless, life is simply a collection of experiences, and with every new experience we learn something about ourselves, whether good or bad, so I refuse to act regretful or remorseful for trying something new. I learned that selling insurance doesn’t bring me pleasure, and moreover, I don’t have the salesman gene. That lesson itself was worth the experience, but that was far from the greatest part.

The people.

The individuals I met in that company were some of the kindest, friendliest, smartest, motivated and driven ladies and gents I had ever had the pleasure speaking to, especially my managers George and Brandon. Listening and working side-by-side with some of them made me learn not only about insurance but also work ethic, discipline, business and human nature in general. Moreover, I made relationships that will hopefully continue long after.

Yet and still, even great people won’t make a great job, which is why I decided to quit. The reason for this post isn’t to bitch about a job, it’s to say that you should never be afraid to quit a job that is not for you. I don’t care if you have $50,000 in college debt and you live with your parents, if you dread waking up every Monday to go to work, you’ll never find motivation to become better at your craft.

Let me be clear. I am NOT going to be cliché and say you should only do a job you love. I don’t believe in that shit. Work is a blessing, but nobody truly loves work. If somebody tells you they love working, slap them in the face and say they’re lying. Even your dream job will give you multiple days of stress, frustration, anger and sadness. No shit. This is life. I’m simply saying that you should find something you can stand doing for the next 30 years that allows you to have balance in your life and compensates you well enough that you don’t have to worry about how you’re going to pay your mortgage.

Unfortunately, these seemingly realistic job standards are hard to come by in 2018, which is what us Millennials are slowly starting to understand and why the job-search process will be much longer and more difficult than that of the generations before us.

This is part of the reason why I say it is good to quit in certain situations. Our entire lives we’re told to never quit. Losers quit. Lazy people quit. You should feel guilt and shame if you quit. Some of those clichés do hold water, but what your mom and dad didn’t tell you is to not waste your time trying to fit a square peg in a round whole.

You all have certain God-given talents, but you also must realize you are shitty at a multitude of things and have no business doing them. I suck at thousands of things. I can’t draw a crooked line straight. I blow ass at golf.

My point?

Just as you should know what you’re good at, you should also know what you suck at, which is often found through experience and is exactly why I don’t feel any shame in knowing I suck ass at selling insurance.

Just keep trying to find your purpose. Keep trying. Take risks. Take chances. Try something new if you haven’t found your niche, just don’t stop looking for your square hole, and learn from your experiences on the way.

If you keep trying, you can’t be a quitter.

God Bless, and keep it smooth as Tennessee Whiskey.