#i am very very grateful for the people who have managed to find me and i've managed to find in turn

[andypantsx3]

man i love fanfic and this community so much

do u guys ever get tired of being some of the coolest ppl and writing some of the most genuinely amazing things??

[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)

[universalitgirlsblog2]

💗🌺YOU DON'T LIKE YOURSELF? CREATE A NEW VERSION OF YOURSELF💗🌺

💗INTRODUCTION

The world needs to accept as you are. no ! The world does not owe you anything. People do not owe you anything. We are changing everyday , we are always trying to improve ourselves. No person is the same person as he or she was from the day that they were born. Everything will be okay when you make it okay. Your life is in your hands. Nobody is coming to save you. Not your mom , your dad , your spouse , your children etc. You want your life to change? You have to change.

🌺CREATE ANOTHER VERSION OF YOURSELF ( ALTER EGO)

Beyonce says that whenever she goes on stage she is not Beyonce , she is Sasha Fierce. David Goggins grew up in poverty, gained alot of weight but then he lost weight and ran marathons. They all say to create a new version of yourself.

Liz said that she is lazy , doesn't like attention which comes from social media and stay her in bed all day but all this will get her nowhere so she created a new version. Somebody that is confident , uses her platform , goes after her goals , gets up and goes to gym and somebody with a very hard mindset and tough skin . You need to create a tough skin especially if you are an influencer or a celebrity.

If you start acting like your alter ego , you will become like her. Ask yourself . What does the higher version of yourself look like ? How does she / he look like ? What is she / he wearing ? Who do they date ? What is their career ? How do they spend their time ? What is their hairstyle ?

💗START TAKING SMALL STEPS TOWARDS GREATNESS

Before doing anything , ask yourself , will my highest version do this? If you are eating sugary food, ask yourself If your highest version would eat that dessert. If you don't feel like going to the gym , ask yourself If your highest version would skip gym or go to gym.

🌺WHAT'S YOUR PASSION/ BEST CAREER OPPORTUNITY?

Find your own passion . No one can tell you what your passion is , you need to find it .

God gives us passion because that's what we are supposed to do.

If you have no idea about your passion , what am I really good at ? Every single person is good at something . It might be as small as cooking, managing team or very much into social media.

💗GET HONEST WITH YOURSELF/ STOP SUGAR-COATING

You can't be always kind to yourself, sometimes you need a reality check . Also , ask yourself what your best version of yourself would do ? Go for walk. Listen to podcast.

🌺PRACTICE THE LAW OF ASSUMPTION AND TRUST GOD/THE UNIVERSE

Talk to God as if he is your best friend. Ask God and the universe for the things you want. Don't expect help if you don't ask for help. God puts people in our life to help us , to upgrade us.

💗LET GO OF TRYING TO CONTROL AND START TRUSTING THAT IT WILL HAPPEN.

Ask once , be specific and practice gratitude before asking. Start assuming like the world is designed for you to succeed .

🌺GET INTO THE MINDSET OF : WHAT WOULD THE HIGHEST VERSION OF MYSELF DO ?

You walk into a room , you have a meeting or a presentation. You feel nervous. Ask yourself : what would the highest version of myself do ? Shoulders back , walk into the room and start talking. Wherever you go , think that everyone is in love with you , it will make you confident.

You have to tell yourself affirmations . Look into the mirror and say " I am powerful . I am amazing. I am going to kill this day ." Ask God to help you and stand by me .

💗ACCEPT THAT RECOVERY IS NOT LINEAR AND BE GRATEFUL FOR THE BAD DAYS.

It takes accountability. Going through the progress of looking at yourself differently.

🌺FALL IN LOVE WITH THE PROGRESS , NOT THE GOAL.

Know that the bad day is a blessing. How will we appreciate good days if we have no bad days ?

If you want an expensive watch , the watch itself doesn't fulfill you , it's the process towards the watch & the anticipation. If you want to lose weight , going to gym regularly and seeing the scale going down, Feeling healthier and better. That is the process. That is happiness.

💗STOP TALKING ABOUT IT AND START ACTUALLY DOING IT

Do not tell anyone about your ambitions .Show them what you are doing .

If you tell big dreams to small minded people , they will never support you because they do not understand. They have not done it themselves

🌺DON'T TALK ABOUT IT UNTIL IT IS DONE.

The big issue with people is that they want to talk before it happened. Why are you putting evil eye on yourself?

" What people don't know they can't ruin "

Be private. You never know who is praying for your downfall.

Don't talk about things you want to accomplish before you accomplished them.

[canmom]

So a little over a month ago I was reached out to by @peterkats, a gay refugee currently living in a camp with a small group of other gay and trans refugees.

Peter has, to put it mildly, had a fucking time of it. In his home country, Uganda, his partner was murdered for being trans. He stayed for some time in Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya with a group of gay and trans people (pictured above), but violence from police forced them to move, and they're currently in a refugee camp run by the UNHCR. (I've been asked not to explicitly name the country but you can probably figure it out.)

Unfortunately this has not in any way been a reprieve. They've managed to flee right into an impending famine, and if that's not enough, they're still facing violence from police and other refugees, and general indifference from the UNHCR medical staff - who are also facing supply shortages. But it's not completely hopeless. When Peter contacted me, he needed money for food - I sent him some via an intermediary and he was able to get quite a bit (the exchange rate seems to be favourable). With help, things can be quite different.

We've stayed in touch since then, talking about our respective lives, the lgbtq situation in different countries, even videogames and music. He's a really sweet guy, despite it all still trying to find a place he can live free. For real, I would not survive any of this shit.

Recently a couple of people in Peter's group have caught malaria. They are currently sleeping on bare mats without mosquito nets. There seems to be some confusion about the exchange rates but as far as I have been able to gather, about €150 (~20,000ssp) gets a mattress and €10(~1000ssp) a malaria net. The UNHCR have not been able to provide any medication except paracetamol, and it's raining which promotes mosquito activity, so this is kind of an emergency.

I would very much prefer if the new friend I've made doesn't die of starvation or malaria. Unfortunately, I do not have the money to support Peter and his group alone. I've sent him money for one mattress (via PayPal for expediency, it won't show up on GFM), and I would be immensely grateful if you would be able to contribute a bit to getting them another (which would be just about enough to keep six people safe from mosquitoes if sleeping three to a mattress).

Beyond that, these guys are prohibited from working so they would definitely benefit from food money. And if anyone has an idea for a long term plan to get them somewhere safer where they're less likely to get bashed, I am sure Peter would appreciate hearing about it. We talked a bit about the UK asylum process but getting everyone here would be very difficult (passports, flights etc.).

But still like, I can only do so much on my own, and I want to give these guys a fighting chance. So if you could pass this around and donate if you can spare a bit? I'd be insanely grateful.

[soulofapatrick]

Amortentia - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: You brew Amortentia and it leads somewhere you didn't ever expect Words: 1.7k Warnings: none really Notes: I am alive I promise, been really busy as we're getting ready to move house

Y/N’s POV

Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. The way many people find their partners in Hogwarts and the most exciting class of the year. Everyone is buzzing around, whispering and giggling with their friends about the vial sat on Professor Slughorn’s desk, left completely unguarded. I take on glance at the shimmering blue liquid and cringe a little before finding the closest seat to the door, throwing my bag on the floor after pulling out the Potions book. 

“Hey Y/N,” Harry slides into the seat beside me with his signature unruly black hair and this bright green eyes that seem to hold a hint of mischief and determination, and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He wears his Gryffindor uniform somewhat neatly, his tie slightly askew adding to this charm.

Ron isn’t far behind, grumbling about the upcoming lesson. His fiery red hair is as untameable as ever, and his freckled face displaying nothing but annoyance as he throws his arms over mine and Harry’s shoulders and letting his knees buckle while pretending to swoon, “Oh Theodore, my love, it youuuuuu-“ 

“Oh shut up!” I push his arm off my shoulders and he falls with a cry of surprise, Harry trying to catch him but ending up letting Ron fall to snigger behind his hand, “You’re probably going to fall head over heels for Snape… oh Snape, oh how I love thee Sn-“ 

“Alright, let’s begin this lesson shall we?” Professor Slughorn comes breezing in, not as well as Snape as he’s just too happy for that. Ron squeezes my shoulder before he slinks off to sit in one of the only spaces next to Neville who looks like he would rather be anywhere else. 

As the lesson commences, Slughorn goes over the instructions and safety precautions for handling Amortentia. The excitement in the room is palpable as we prepare to brew the potent love potion. The air is filled with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, but I find myself feeling grateful for Harry taking over, using his special edition of the potions book that is full of scribbles and notes presumably making the potion better. The simmering cauldrons and swirling concoctions coming together creates an almost enchanting atmosphere, the scents in the air shifting and blending, giving the room an ethereal quality. 

A figure appears over my shoulder, surprise and curiosity coursing through my veins when I recognise that familiar scent of oranges, honeycomb and something darker like amber which can mean only one thing: Theodore Nott is standing behind me. His calm and composed demeanour a little intimidating as I don’t think I’ve ever seen him actually smile more than a very small lift of the corner of his lips. Oh his lips, so plump and flush and-

“How’s the potion going Mouse? Have you blown up-“ He stops abruptly, leaving forwards over my shoulder and taking a very deep breath, causing me to stumble a little over the response I was trying to formulate. His voice is low and husky, sending shivers down my spine at the nickname he calls me. 

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s coming along.” I manage to stammer rout, feeling my cheeks heat up, “Haven’t blown anything up… yet.” 

Theodore’s lips quirk upward ever so slightly, and I catch a glimpse of what could be a hint of amusement. He leans in a little closer, and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, sending more shivers down my spine, but it’s a delicious kind nervousness, a feeling I can’t quite put into words. Before I can fully process the situation, Theodore buries his nose in the crook of my neck, taking a deep breath. My heart pounds in my chest so loud I’m sure Ron can hear it from across the room, and time seems to slow down. The scents of oranges, honeycomb and amber envelops us, creating an intimate and intoxicating moment. 

I can hardly believe that Theodore, the stoic and straight-faced Slytherin, is here, so close to me, and that he’s showing this level of vulnerability. His actions are unexpected but oh so incredibly thrilling. I dare to steal a glance at his face, and I’m met with a sight I’ve never seen before - a softness in his expression, a hint of something more than his usual guarded demeanour. It’s as if he’s letting down his walls, revealing a side of himself he rarely shows to anyone. 

My heart races, and I find myself yearning for more of this closeness, more of this connection. It’s like a spell has been cast, and I’m under Theodore’s enchantment. The excitement and nervousness intertwine, and I feel a sense of wonder at the unexpected turn of events, how close he is to me. I can feel his breath ghosting over my lips, knowing that I could just lean forwards ever so slightly and close the near non-existence space between us. The smell of oranges, honeycomb and amber suddenly gets so intense I have to grab the edge of the table and Theodore’s forearm. 

“Aha! We did it!” Harry exclaims, breaking the moment and has Theodore pulling back. Theodore’s eyes meet mine, and I see a spark of something familiar and yet different. The air between us crackles with unspoken words, emotions swirling around us like the brewing potions in the classroom.

“Oh god.” I choke out and I think Theodore actually smiles for the first time, the corner of his lips tilting up into more of a smile than he’s ever shown before, “Wh-what do you smell Teddy?”

He leans in once more, his nose brushing against my collarbone and neck. His closeness sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. And then, he presses a soft, gentle kiss to my jaw, sending shockwaves of sensation through me. It’s a sweet, tender touch that leaves me breathless. 

“You.” He whispers, his voice barely audible,  but the impact of his words reverberates within me. The world seems to stand still, and my heart swells with emotion. 

Theodore Tiberius Nott, the guarded and enigmatic Slytherin, had just confessed, in his own subtle way, that he feels something for me. My cheeks flush with a. Mixture of excitement and disbelief. It’s a moment I never thought I’d experience - being so close to Theodore, sharing this intimate connection, and hearing him express his feelings in such a heartfelt manner. In the heart-stopping moment, I can see the turmoil of emotions playing across his face. His eyes meet mine with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. And then, without warning, he mumbles a single phrase that sets my heart racing even faster. 

“Fuck it,” he whispers, and before I can process his intent, his hand cups my jaw, and he draws me up into a kiss. It’s a surprise, but the moment our lips meet, it’s as if everything falls into place. 

The kiss is soft yet intense, filled with all the emotions that words can’t express. It feels like an explosion of passion and longing, an unspoken confession that’s now imprinted on our lips. Theodore’s lips are warm and inviting, and I respond with equal fervour, my heart soaring with joy and disbelief. Time seems to stand still, and the air crackles with the intensity of our shared emotions. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a revelation of hidden desires and unspoken feelings. All the walls Theodore had erected to guard his heart have crumbled, and in this magical moment, he bares himself to me in the most intimate way. 

Just as the world around us seems to disappear in the enchantment of the moment, reality crashes back in with an unexpected interruption. Ron, being the protective and ever-observant twin brother, appears out of nowhere and is shoving Theodore away from me. 

“Hey! That’s my sister!” Ron’s voice is filled with shock and indignation, “You can’t just go around kissing my sister!” 

“Ron!” I can’t help but practically facepalm at him as he’s… he’s being Ron, “Shove off,” I reach around Ron and manage to get a grip on Theodore’s sleeve enough to pull him back over to me. Ron's protectiveness is well-intentioned, but I can't let it ruin the magical moment that Theodore and I just shared. 

“I’m not… She’s safe with me, I promise.” Theodore's words are reassuring, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks. Despite his usual stoic demeanour, there's a tenderness in his touch as he holds my hand, a silent declaration of his feelings for me. 

“I trust him.” I say firmly, giving my brother a pleading look. Ron just looks torn for a moment, clearly struggling between his protective instincts and his trust in me. But then, he takes a deep breath and nods reluctantly. 

“Fine.” His says, his voice gruff but accepting, “But if he hurts you in any way, he’ll have me to deal with.” Ron eyes him warily but eventually takes a step back, giving us some space. ”Just remember, Y/N, he's a Slytherin," Ron says, his protective tone still evident.

"He's more than just his house," I reply, trying to convey the depth of my feelings for Theodore.

Ron studies me for a moment before he finally relents. ”Fine," he says, "But don't say I didn't warn you.”

With that, Ron turns and walks away, leaving Theodore and me standing there, still holding hands. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that Ron didn't push the matter further. 

“Ahhhh young love.” Slughorn’s voice floats across the room , filled with warmth and nostalgia, and I do the only thing I can: bury my face in Theodore’s sweater, feeling a laugh rumble in his chest. 

“Indeed.” Theodore says, his voice laced with amusement as he wraps his arms around me in a gentle embrace. Slughorn giving us an indulgent smile before continuing with the class. The room seeming to take on a different atmosphere now, one that’s tinged with a newfound sweetness and magic. The shimmering cauldrons and swirling potions seem to mirror the emotions swirling within me, and I can’t help but realise how cliche this is. Expressing our feelings for each other during the lesson on amortentia… 

“I’ll wait for you after class.” Theodore murmurs, kissing my forehead then my cheek before untangling himself from my embrace before heading back to his seat next to a predictably sneering Draco Malfoy. 

“What just happened?’ I ask Harry, a little dazed still, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“I’m not actually sure.” 

-----------

Harry Potter Universe Masterlist

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[tinydeskwriter]

Lando NorrisxWolff!reader

words: 2825

requested: no

A/n: This is going to be a multi-chapters, most of the chapters won't be social midia or something. It is going to 'follow' the 2023 F1 season. Reader is Toto's eldest child by a fictitious ex- first wife. I just watched Break Point, with is another sport Netflix docuseries from the same producing company that makes DST, and since then I have this idea of a prodigy tennis player reader.

next part»

GQ 10 things Y/n Wolff can’t live without

“Hi GQ, I am Y/n Wolff and here are my essentials.” The young woman opens her arms looking at the objects displayed on the table, before looking up and smiling to the camera.

# Sugar

“My trainer may not agree. My coaches may not agree. My performance coach may not agree. My parents definitely don’t agree.” She points out, “But I need sugar.” The young woman brings to the centre of the table a small pile of sweets, a tall cup of caffeinated drink and a can of Red Bull, “I live of sugar and… sugary things…”

“My day starts with this lovely peppermint iced mocha sweetened with vanilla sugar… a ton of vanilla sugar.” Y/n laughs taking a sip of her drink “I am weirdly obsessed with mint and chocolate combinations…” She comments looking at the camera, “I drink perhaps two or three of those per day,” The young woman then places her hand over the top of the Red Bull can, most people who follow her already know that she is an athlete sponsored by Red Bull, “sugar-free Red Bull, which ironically is sweeter than the regular one.” She puts her hand on the pile of chocolates, “Milk-chocolate, I am not going to lie and say that I eat the healthy stuff, I don’t, I have the taste buds of a child,” the tennis player smiles mischievously at the camera, “right now I am really into this Finnish chocolate, Geisha and the blue Fazer, daddy always keep those in his offices for me.” She wrinkles her nose a little, giving the camera a lovely—childish—smile.

“Aero Mint bar, Chocolate Orange, Maltesers, Bounty, Kinder, truffles…I'm honestly starting to wonder how we managed to get through customs.” She laughs looking at her entourage behind the cameras. “This is like… a fraction of what I usually travel with, this is more like what I have in my bag for the day.”

#Photos

Y/n played a little with a golden square object in her hand.

“I travel a lot, I am on the road from January to November playing at tournaments around the world, so I can’t always be surrounded or in touch with the people that I love,” she says in a slightly more serious tone, taking the golden case in her hands and pressing the button to open, showing pile of polaroid photos, “those are mini Polaroids, so I can bring them with me wherever I go, I keep them inside this vintage cigarette case that belonged to my maternal grandmother, she was a absolute rockstar and I miss her very much.”  The camera takes a close-up on the golden case with rope motif and small colourful stones. “As I don’t smoke, I had to find another use for it.”

The first photo she shows is five adults together, smiling around a table, in what appears to be a ski resort.

“I have a very patchwork family, and somehow the adults in my life made it work…which I am very grateful for, not everyone is lucky to have so many amazing parents…so here I have my mum and my two other mothers, Stephanie and Susie, papa and my other father, Phillippe,” the second photo is her with a boy not much younger than her, two teenage girls and a small child in front of a Christmas tree, “my siblings, I have four, I am the eldest whatever way you go, huge flex,” the photo is followed by one of a pyjama party with several girls in matching pyjamas, and another of the tennis player with a blonde in front of the Eiffel Tower, “My gurls! This is my best friend, she is also my PA… so amazing to have someone I trust so much with me all the time…” a golden cocker spaniel with a crystal necklace, silk bows in its ears and a Gucci sweater appears on the screen, “this is Éclair Wolff, my emotional support dog aka my child, she actually goes with me mostly everywhere, but sometimes I leave her with my mum so she won’t be stressed by the long flights.”

She points to the next three photos, the first has the Mercedes drivers in Tommy Hilfinger, posing for the photo. “Lew and Georgie, the adopted older brothers I never asked for, but I love them.” The second photo has three other familiar faces making faces at the camera, “C2, my Ferrari boys, feat Pear, there is something wholesome about good looking men looking so silly, I love those guys and I love this picture, it is very on brand with them.”  The tennis player smiles at the camera. “Sharls, Carlitos and Pear are three of the nicest guys I have ever met, it is truly a blessing be able to call them friends and having them in my life.”

McLaren driver Lando Norris, in his third or fourth season, apparently not even realizing he was having his photo taken, it's a spontaneous photo, the soft sunlight highlighting the driver's profile as he smiles.

“Because of karting, I’ve known Lando since I was a head taller than him, he was my first crush…he was so shy, so adorable, so babygirl coded.” Y/n blushed a little as she shows the photo.

“I think most of the current grid is in here…oh, look, it’s Lance! Friends from life, from tennis…” She quickly changes showing another photo. “I think I easily have about sixty photos here..."

#Camera

“I don’t have a specific camera I like more than the others, but as a rule, I prefer vintage cameras just for the beauty of the final result, I inherited a few, I bought a few, I usually develop the photos when I'm at home for longer periods of time, edit the videos, digitalize a few…” She points to the cameras in front of her, a Bolex, a Digital Bolex, a very iconic Rolleiflex and a Super 8, “It is a very nostalgic experience to just go through a year worth of memories…” She says resting her face in her hand, “I have a hundred boxes with pictures and film rolls.”

“I love going through old pictures with my mom and Cass, my younger sister, from when we were babies, my parents in the 90’s, my mom when she was young, the wonderful life my grandparents lived, and is such a lovely moment to share with my mom.” Y/n has a soft smile on her lips. “One day, when I have my own kids, I want to have those moments with them, and not just scrolling through a phone or an iPad.”

#Journals

“I keep journals since I was a child, I get a new one every year,” She holds up the leather hardcover notebook, a deep indigo blue, a little worn around the edges, “after I turned thirteen years old, I started to get it in this specific shade of blue, with my initials in gold,” The girl opens the journal, leafing through it briefly, “I am never going to write an auto-biography, it’s kind of a little bit too egocentric to my taste,” She knocks it closed, but keeps it up, looking at the camera as she speaks , “but if someone ever write about me, fifty years from now… the facts will be straight, at least from my point of view… but even if no one ever writes about me… when I am old and grey and memory starts to fail me, I will be able to come back to the thoughts of twenty years old me…”

There is a moment of silence.

“That was kind of dark.” Y/n laughs to break the tension.

#Art Supplies

“I love to draw and paint, it eases the anxieties of life,” The tennis player shows the large sketchbook, a small aluminium case with the watercolours, and the rolling leather case with pencils and brushes, “I always bring a watercolour travel kit with my sketchbook wherever I go.”

She displays for the internet some of the landscapes she painted during her travels around the world.

#Hoodies

“I like to be comfortable after a match,” she spreads her arms across the perfectly folded hoodies on the table, “and nothing is more comfortable than a hoodie, feels a little bit like home.”

“I have my collection of hoodies with Adidas, they always provide me with new cool colours to try out and see if I want to add to the next collection,” Y/n opens sage green hoodie, running her hand over her initials and the Adidas logo. “Enchanté by Dani Ric, I have a bunch of those, Daniel is always kind enough to drop them at my house in Monaco, VIP treatment baby.” She points to the white hoodie. “Quadrant hoodies, Lando’s merch, ridiculously comfy, I would really like them in pastel colours or dusty rose… just putting out to the universe…” Y/n smiles and winks at the camera. “Valtteri, MV1… those all came with me for the US Open.”

#Skincare

“This is part of my daily routine.” The girl opens the toiletry bag, taking out the products inside, “I am always in different countries and different hotel rooms, so is nice to have this little sense of routine.”

She lines the pearlescent bottles with opaque round lids on top of the table.

“I launched Muse when I was seventeen years old, it is my skincare brand, and it is very me. I wanted it to be un-complicated and complete,” The young woman explains passionately looking at the camera, “skin is the body’s largest organ, and it is not only your face.” It affects the hair on your face, tucking it behind your ear before going back to the product bottles. “The line goes from body wash to suncream to night-time routine.”  

#Travel Pillow

“If I mess up my neck and shoulder, I am f***ed, my match is over and possibly the tournament.” She holds up a medium-sized pillow to the camera, the pillowcase light pink silk with red buttonholes around the edges and her initials in the corner. “So, this baby goes with me everywhere, it is a memory foam pillow with a silk pillowcase. Best sleep, best hair.”

#Sport Gear

“I generalized here, sport gear, I travel heavy, always,” she points to the array of equipment on the table, “this is my racket, I go to each tournament with around ten of those, just in case I wreak one on the ground,” Y/n passes her hand over the racket, “those are custom Yonex Ezone 98, they made it in Mountbatten pink with some cool pattern and my initials,” she smiles as she pulls the helmet close to her chest, “my helmet, also custom Mountbatten pink, with my initials in rose, I love to try new karting tracks, most people don’t know I used to race karts when I was younger, won a couple of trophies, went as far as F3 before I choose to go pro with tennis, car racing is a huge thing in my family…my dad used to race, my stepmom was a driver, my little brother probably going to be a F1 driver,” she recounts with a smile, “I joked once with my dad that we are at a window that if I have a kid in the next year or two, in twenty years we can have a Wolff’s drivers line-up for Mercedes.” The young woman smirks to the camera. “My dad almost passed out, and now I am not allowed to date until I am thirty.”

#Headphones

“Those are custom made for me, again, they are Mountbatten pink and rose with my logo, super comfortable on the ears, I usually have problems with headphones due to the piercings and earrings, but these didn't give me any problems, they fit well, and I can spend the whole day wearing them." She takes the gadget out of the case, showing the details. “It's not wireless, because I always forget to charge it, so it has a wire, they made this lovely, thick cord that is durable and super resistant,” Y/n wraps the rope around her fingers, “it is noise cancelling and it is always with me before every match as an essential part of my pre-match rituals.”

“The right music kind of puts you in the right mood, I usually go with Eminem in 80% of my matches, I feel like it unleashes my inner fighter, these are matches where I'm not really worried about my opponent, it is just raw and a little bit thoughtless, I just play,” she comments, “when I know that my opponent is going to be hard on the mind games, which is not an uncommon move in tennis, I tend to listen to calmer and more melancholic music, piano, it keeps me in a more peaceful zone, I don’t get pumped up and full of adrenaline, my game tends to be far more calculated…”

 #

“That’s it. Those were my ten essentials,” the young woman smiles, “thank you, GQ, for allowing me to share my essentials, much appreciated, and thank you guys for taking the time to watch it! Much love and see you next time!” The athlete says, blowing a kiss and winking to the camera as the credits shows up.

__________________________________________

2,109,963 views   Aug 29, 2022

978 Comments

 userone

i was todays yrs old when i found out that tennis superstar Y/n Wolff is the eldest child of THE Toto Wolff

            user1

            From what little she talks about her dad here, u just get the vibes that Merce boss Toto is a softie girl dad, he keeps her favourite candy in his offices and forbids her to date until she’s thirty, this is so sweet

haterone

a billionaire’s nepo baby, talking about her millionaire friends and her unrelatable lifestyle and things

usertwo

Y/n’s hair is probably the healthiest hair i ever seen i need her hair routine

userthree

I am so obsessed with her career! I want to see her continue to succeed and be one of the biggest tennis players of all times. She deserves it. Such a talented, humble kid.

userfour

i loved hearing her talk about her family and friends!!! it is so crazy that she is close friends with a bunch of F1 drivers.

            hatertwo

            Not so crazy since she’s literally a f1 nepo baby, her daddy is part owner of Mercedes.

userfive

She's like that one super popular chick in school who's actually a total sweetheart.

usersix

I totally relate to her being a sweet tooth

@userseven

I love that she was not talking to the camera. She was actually talking to the people there behind the scenes

usereight

i love how a lot of these items are usually a stereotype of being pretentious—a vintage cartier cigarette case, a film camera, a leather bound custom hermes journal, art supplies--but she talks about all of them with such genuine interest and attachment that it doesnt seem pretentious at all

usereighteen

U r the one name dropping the brands she uses…

usernine

Her nicknames for Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr and Pierre Gasly… I died dead…

            user9

            The fact that she’s gushing about lando and being so sweet about her childhood crush on him oml

            user10

            Omg it is so cuuute!!! Like, she had a crush on little Lando and not McLaren glow up Lando Norris

            user11

            I used to be so conflicted shipping her with the drivers, because she dates that tennis player, but her insta has a bunch of her and Charles and her and Pierre and her and Lance and it is so cute and kind of gives such soft vibes, those boys look half in love with her in most pictures, also ...the chemistry. but seeing the way she talks about Lando… they r my new diehard ship…

userten  

Are we going to ignore that she confessed that Lando Norizz was her first crush???

            user1

            They would be so cute together… and they ate both single now… at the same time… we can dream…

            user12

            i went ten steps further and in my head, they are already getting married and having cute future Mercedes world drivers’ champions…

user13

 Can we already dream of Lando at Mercedes???

usereleven

Ok… but didn’t Lando once commented like, very briefly, in a McLaren video, that he used to have a crush on a girl that used to go karting with him??? The girl who wore red ribbons in her hair… do you guys know who uses red ribbons in heir hair since she was an actual baby?? Y/n! There is a pic in her insta of her in a karting track with her dad, and she has red bows in her hair…

            user11

            Not gonna lie… It would be kinda of cute if they actually had a mutual childhood crush and then eventually end up together as adults…

next part»

[adventuringblind]

The Wolf, The Bunny, and the Muppet

Carlando X Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Carlos makes plans, Lando doesn't follow them, and punishment ensues. She's just trying to look cute, is that really so hard?

Warnings: Mildly dark Carlos, Denial, Overstimulation, Bondage, Degradation, Praise, PinV, Marking, Heavy subspace, Lando being a pain, BDSM, unprotected sex (not condoned), crying, anal with mild prep,

Notes: So... this is a thing. I fell in love with this towards the end. Dark Carlos is my new favorite thing. Hope the requester appreciates my effort because this was A LOT. Jk, kinda, but I do hope you like it!!

Side note: feeding my praise kink fuels my motivation to write. I am lacking that currently.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It's not often Carlos makes a pre-planned effort to put a scene together. He's calculated, sure, but he can also go with whatever the situation calls for.

This weekend is different. He has something he wants to try and has made his partners aware of the plan. It's not often he gets to delve into non-sexual domination. The kind that builds up into something more.

He'd been very clear about the rules after getting them off on Thursday. Hopefully enough to satisfy them (Lando) until Sunday night where he would tear them apart and put them back together.

Lando has always been the trickier of the two. She does whatever Carlos says. Lando can but chooses not to.

Needless to say, that if Lando breaks any of the rule's things will become significantly more difficult for everyone involved. Mostly for himself, but Carlos also doesn't really want to put that much effort into doing something different.

Friday is easy. Lando isn't pent up, both are dressed in outfits he'd picked out, and haven't complained about it. Not that he's expecting it. He's not going to put them in something they aren't comfortable with.

Friday practice goes well. Enough for Carlos to have the energy to tease the pair. He leaves them wanting more, for obvious reasons. There is something so satisfying about having to people who love and trust you, begging for anything you give them. Carlos loves this feeling; addicted to it like a drug.

The climate they are racing in is warm enough that Carlos can comfortably have the female wear a dress that barely brushes the tops of her thighs. It's skimpy, and he loves it. He loves the attention she's getting and how people are gawking at her. There is a primal satisfaction deep down because he knows full well she's his.

On the other hand, he had to wrestle Lando's hoodie away from him. The risk of overheating left Carlos is a predicament. The result being a grumpy Brit who wants to die of a heat stroke but complied regardless.

He manages through qualifying fine. Knowing he's going to find his girl in the garage waiting for him. Carlos gets through media with a PR approved smile. Still eyeing Lando and the fact that he is back in his sweatshirt.

Carlos edges him for hours when they get back to the hotel. His precious girl sits right at his feet, waiting patiently for direction. Eyes glazed over at simply being made to watch and wait.

Lando is sweating horrifically. Carlos left him in the sweatshirt, making him regret his earlier misdemeanors. The Brit is slobbering on the sheets, begging for some reprieve. Carlos helps him take a cold shower when he thinks Lando has learned his lesson.

He makes the podium on Sunday. He's elated, walking on cloud nine. Satisfied with his adrenaline-fueled kisses to his lovers in a back corner before he heads to do media.

It's back in the garage when Charles starts laughing at an Instagram post. It draws Carlos' attention. He looks over to see what's on the screen, only to clench his jaw in utter disbelief.

Lando, is openly flirting with Oscar. His smug look says he knows exactly what he's doing. Of everyone, it had to be Oscar. It could've been Max for all he cared. Oscar just grates on his nerves with the way he looks at Lando.

He ends up having to stay later than expected. Lando had said he was heading back to the hotel to order dinner for them since he was done. Maybe try to make amends for his earlier stunt.

Carlos takes his girl with him. He watches her shudder as he praises her for being all weekend. Not like he expected anything different. Carlos broke her a long time ago. He's still breaking Lando.

He keys the room open, expecting to see food on the table and Lando sitting patiently. What he hears instead is Lando moaning. The sheets shifted around underneath his writhing body.

Carlos just stands and watches for a minute. Lando is clearly aware he's is but making no attempt to stop. The sounds he's letting out are exaggerated and whiny. Terribly desperate for something Carlos won't give him.

"Mmm - Oscah..."

And Carlos snaps. Any semblance of self-restraint disappears. The stoic facade he was trying to keep dissolves into a fiery anger. Red hot and boiling in his stomach.

Carlos storms over to Lando and flips him without any difficulty. He pins him with one hand and undoes his belt with the other. "What a fucking brat. You can't be a slut for one second can you?"

Lando is whining underneath him. It's a pathetic noise, and Carlos soaks up every bit of it. "Desperate little thing." He wraps Lando's wrists in his bet and tightens it. The Brit lay bare and vulnerable at the mercy of Carlos' decisions.

Carlos spares a glance at the female. She has stripped her own clothes and is kneeling by the bed. He wants to drown in the sight and ravish her until neither of them can breathe. "Must you ruin my plans, Landito?"

"Just wanted to feel you."

"Yeah, you're going to feel me for weeks after I'm done with you."

Carlos motions for the girls to come to him on the bed. She crawls to him, big eyes clouded with want. "You're so perfect, amour. I'm going to reward you for being so good this weekend. Lando will watch and take notes."

Lando whines as Carlos rolls him onto his back. Rough and calloused fingers grip at Lando's hips. They tease the sensitive areas where Lando needs him most. Cock achingly hard and dripping.

"Stay put and I might let you cum tonight."

Carlos moves closer to the angelic female, looking at him like he is the only thing in the world. He strips off his own clothes and pulls her body closer to his. The skin on skin alone has her eyes rolling back.

He pushes her head lower. Her mouth opens to receive his cock with no hesitation. She wraps her lips around him with such skill that Carlos can only get lost in it. Hand buried in her hair if only to worship her. There is no need to guide or hold as he bucks his hips up and hits the back of her throat.

It's impossible for him not to take advantage of her mouth. It is harder to stay away from the edge of ecstasy. But he manages, he pulls her off him and slams his lips onto hers.

His fingers slips into her cunt with ease. Wet from the weekend of waiting. The anticipation of feeling him finally comes to fruition.

"Sir, please - I need you." The brg falls from her lips like it's her first language. All she knows is him; drowning in the way his fingers rub against her g-spot. "Need to be filled by you."

Carlos can't deny the girl anything. He burries himself in her. Eye's burning holes into Lando's as he snaps his hips at a relentless pace. "How does it feel knowing this could've been you?"

Lando whines and pouts, hips bucking towards the spainard to find the friction he needs. Carlos grants him nothing but a handprint on his ass. Tears spring into his eyes at the sting. It grants Carlos a sick kind of satisfaction.

His girl pants his name. Her tongue sticks out of her mouth in search of him. The only satisfaction she gains is from being good for Carlos.

He feels her tighten around him, alerting him that she's on the edge. "Wait for me, I'm almost there." He whispers against her skin. She scratches at his back as he picks up the pace. Her own way of claiming him, it sends Carlos' head spinning.

She's begging for it but waiting so patiently. The control he has over her is intoxicating. He could keep her like this forever, but she's been good and deserves a reward.

"Cum for me, you've been so good princessa." She tightens around him, walls refusing to let up. Her body jolts in the pleasurable waves of dopamine and serotonin.

Carlos finishes with a few sloppy thrusts, painting the inside of her white. The only thing left is their heavy breathes as they bask in the high.

Carlos praises her as he pulls out. She whines at the loss of him, so he places a hand on her hip to ensure she knows he's present while in a vulnerable headspace. It's endearing how she needs him.

"See that Lando? Do you think you can be good? Can you listen to my words like the good boy I know you are?"

Lando is sobbing. Putty in the hands of Carlos. Broken and beautiful. Just the way he should be.

Carlos takes pity on him. Places Lando in-between the girls' legs. He waits, unmoving inside of his perfect girl.

He drips lube all over his fingers and takes care in opening up the Brit, but leaves him right enough to ensure a bit if a sting still.

Lando is keening. He's trying so hard not to move; to be good for Carlos.

Carlos takes his time sinking into the Brit. Each movement sends him further into the warmth of his Carlos' perfect girl. Lando is sobbing now, begging for anything Carlos is willing to give.

Carlos finally gives in. He show the two of them to mercy. Teeth clamping onto Lando's neck to mark him and fingers pinching the girls nipples causing her to shreik.

Perfect for him.

His.

All his.

Carlos fucks them into overstimulation. He's relentless and refuses to let the moment go to waste. Not when they are sobbing in pure ecstacy.

They chant his name, and he feeds off it. He could live in this place. Only hearing them worship him for the rest of his life.

Finally, he slows. He pulls out gently and whispers words of encouragement and praise. He kisses up and down their bodies and worships them because they are completely his.

He cleans them up with gentle hands, let's them know how much he loves and adores them.

Carlos cuddles them to sleep. The feeling of their hearts beating on either side of him only sends him further into the chasm of adoration for the two.

Hearts that are beating with his in tadem.

Hearts that beat for him.

[shinobushaori]

I’m literally obsessed w/your work it’s keeping me sane while I try not to think about what’s going to happen to Shinobu in the next movie 💔

I’d like to request just some fluff of Shinobu x a fem reader and they haven’t seen each other for a while. Shinobu is busy being a Hashira and taking care of patients, and reader is busy being slayer taking on mission after mission. Finally, the reader makes it home to the butterfly mansion when it’s already well past dusk, and finds Shinobu slaving away doing late night research. At first Shinobu thinks the reader is some random assistant, but then she quickly realizes it’s the reader, and so Shinobu immediately halts all of her research to dote on the reader. Eventually it leads to the reader gently/lovingly scolding Shinobu for being up late again, which eventually leads to the reader and Shinobu going to bed, and as they catch up, cuddle, and exchange kisses both reader and Shinobu fall asleep. Just very fluffy stuff :D Maybe it even rains too, or it’s cold so Shinobu and the reader have to snuggle up under the covers. All in all just comfort and fluff!

A/N: You're in luck! I actually wrote something really similar but tweaked it a bit to more fit your request. And I'm so happy that my work distracts you as much as it distracts me! Especially from what's going to happen next year LMAO yeah I did find out while writing this tho that I suck at dialogues so that's.. something... hope you enjoy!

LIMITED TIME

- kochou shinobu x f! reader

warning: none

word count: 1.6K

"Finally!"

You squished the demon's remaining ashes under your feet, successfully extinguishing whatever profanities it managed to scream at you. Not bothering to listen to any of them. You're just glad that after a week of overstaying yourself in this village, you've finally gotten rid of the reason you were here in the first place.

It wasn't a strong opponent by any chance but it sure was tricky and cunning. Using ways that even you, who usually just go for the head, think of your actions more deeply. After all, one mistake could lead to a terrifying massacre.

But you waved all of that away. You managed to slay the demon and save people in the process, that's important.

After a while of receiving the countless grateful thank yous, you passed everything else to the Kakushis that had recently arrived with a nod.

"Ame."

Your crow perches on your shoulder and you smile, patting her ruffled feathers as she caws loudly. "Rest! Rest! Rest!"

You chuckle, "Alright, I got it."

Your thoughts wander as you walk towards the direction your crow was guiding you. Warmth settled on your stomach when you realized the familiar pavement and purposely stationed planted flowers as well as the occasional flutter and waves of butterflies.

'Ah.' You fully relax your body, seemingly melting from the warmth on your face alone. You cannot deny that you've longed so much from your family and most of all, from your lover.

It was an unexpected development, you could admit. From close co-workers to friends and then something more. Shinobu captivated you in more ways imaginable and possible. So, imagine the loneliness that clouded you every day that you were away. Being a Hashira as well as her, duties were indeed more important. But sometimes you wish you could be selfish for once and stay one more day with her, free of any worries outside normal, mundane concerns.

Alas, duty calls and you had to be away for two whole months! Countless missions left and right, your recent being the longest you've ever had. It was exhausting and mentally taxing waking up and only having comfort from the frequently exchanged letters sent by the girls and Shinobu before you ready yourself for another night of demon hunting.

Though, you suppose none of those matters now as you stood at the sight of the Butterfly Estate with a tired smile. The sun had already retreated for the day and the bustling mansion was still up and lively, likely nursing after wounded slayers.

You didn't want to possibly distract them so you discreetly went inside and almost immediately bolted towards the work office Shinobu must be working herself on.

You weren't wrong as the clanks and light stomps become audible from behind the thin door.

You widely grinned, you didn't notify any of the girls of your arrival as even you weren't sure when you're free of the duties given towards you. So, you were giddy in your place to surprise Shinobu with your presence.

You raise your arm to knock.

-

Shinobu releases a tired exhale. After the seemingly endless hours stretching on, the beaker she held between her fingers made it entirely worth it. With this specific mixture, she should have a nicely prepared scabbard full of poisonous concoctions of wisteria enough to last a few missions.

'I shouldn't worry for a while.' Shinobu sets the glass aside but momentarily pauses when a knock becomes audible. However, before she could speak, the swish sound of the door harshly sliding enters her ears.

She inwardly sighs, "Aoi-chan, I greatly appreciate your concerns but didn't I-"

"Give the poor girl a break, won't you?"

Shinobu blinks, snapping her head behind. Gaping with widened eyes as your tired state emerged from whatever hell hole you came from.

She eventually snapped out of this quick trance, smirking as you walked closer towards her while she slightly leaned on the table behind. "Oh? Don't tell me you abandoned your missions to visit me? That's sweet but I'm afraid I have to report you to Master~!"

You chuckled, missing her soothing voice yet teasing tone. The two months away truly took so much precious things that you can't help but treasure everything you missed from Shinobu. As you got closer, you immediately pulled her in a tight hug, inhaling the wisteria scent that clung itself onto her and she giggled at your desperate hold.

Feeling you rubbing your head on her neck made Shinobu even giddier, "Now, now. Are you actually coaxing me into not snitching? How cunning of you, my dear."

Already used to this, you didn't mind her teasing behavior. You know just how you could shut Shinobu's mouth and she's well aware of your ability to do so. That in mind, you worked your magic as your hands slowly wandered around her body, while placing small light kisses on her jaw and neck below, grinning at the way she softly sighed as you did so.

Shinobu bit her lip, feeling herself immediately fluster at your touch. She cannot deny she longed so much from you. From your silent touches to the loving gazes. After all, work and research could only do so much to distract her from her aching yearning for you. She's just glad that you're finally free of your duties as much as she is currently too. Tilting her head, she hums at the way your lips last longer on her skin and your palms softly caressing her waist.

"Missed you." You grumbled, leaning away to face her before tilting your head.

"Don't you miss me, too?"

Shinobu chuckles, finding your pleading eyes adorable as she brought a hand to rub your cheek. "Of course I did, my beloved." Her reply easily gets a shy smile from you.

"Good," You sigh, pressing closer towards her again. "..because I missed you so much I could just die."

The Hashira pats your head, loving the way you leaned most of your weight onto her, "Hmmm.. so dramatic."

You completely ignored her words, rather continuing on complaining about your previous missions, grumbling and groaning as if Shinobu was giving attention to everything other than the way you twirled her hair around your finger or the way you lock your jaw the moment you recall something entirely embarrassing or annoying. She could just stare all day and not get tired of doing so.

"..'nobu, Shinobu.. are you listening to me?" She hums, licking her lips and bringing her eyes back and up to your own with a sly grin.

"Something about demons, yes?"

Yep, she wasn't listening. You shook your head. "Well, that's all from me, how about you? I trust that you've been taking care of yourself?"

Shinobu visibly beamed, "Of course, I have-!"

"Don't even lie."

You immediately deadpanned. "You have a futon in here, which you only bring out if you spent a few nights here again. And don't think I didn't notice your cold and untouched dinner set aside either."

Her smile tensed, her head tilting as her purple eyes seemed to glint with a single brow raised. "Well, what's the point of asking something you're already aware of?"

You roll your eyes, "I wanted to test you," You shrug, leaning away from her touch. "I guess you failed."

Shinobu didn't even let a single second pass without her arms tangled around your neck as she immediately pulled you in, her smirk widening.

"Don't think I would let you escape that fast~"

You giggle, easily balancing the two of you as you give her a short kiss. "I'd be saddened if you did." You give her hips a small squeeze, "After all, I wouldn't dream of letting you go."

She huffs in amusement, "My, what a sweet talker you are."

"Says you."

Shinobu laughs, slowly pushing you towards the conventionally placed futon on the side. The two of you immediately cling onto each other, with you burying your head on Shinobu's neck while she lovingly caress your hair, the warm blanket sat above you two.

Pure small moments like these, seemingly ordinary yet profoundly precious, are what Shinobu cherishes the most. Nothing else but love and care radiating from the two of you. How she wishes time could stop and stretch on endlessly just for the two of you to spend time together.

You soon break the long and comfortable silence. "Take care of yourself, will you? Not just for me but for the girls as well."

You take a small peek at her, pouting at the way Shinobu simply smirks with her eyes closed, your words seemingly entering and leaving one ear to another.

"I mean it, Shinobu. Don't push yourself too hard, you deserve a break too."

She sharply exhaled yet the smile plastered on her lips softened hearing your words and you snicker seeing it. You know she secretly likes being taken care well. Although, you doubt she'll agree hearing it.

You return to your supposed location, deep down her nape once again with a satisfied smile. The warmth in your stomach increasingly grows, content being beside your lover like this.

"I love you."

Shinobu feels the heat creep up her face and ears, her heart tug felt painful yet she loved every single beat of it because she knows it's all because of you. You always make her feel like she's floating, always without a single fail. And at that moment, she feels all the strain for the past weeks leave her body as her comfort fully and rightfully embraced her.

Words could never capture the actuality of her feelings and yet it easily left her mouth anyways.

"I love you too."

As she always had and always will.

shinobu secretly liking being taken care of is so so canon to me that i jst had to mention it as a small detail idk why

GRGRGRGG i feel like I could've done better at portraying shinobu but i cant let yall starve any longer so i forced myself to publish this heheheh hopefully i could finish other requests too, have a nice day!

[bitethedevil]

Raphael going to a noble party of some kind, disguised as a human, in order to find and schmooze with current and potential clients. While engaging with one such individual who seems particularly taken with him, from across the room he spots Tav, for once not dressed in adventurer's gear but decorated with finery. The Hero of Baldur's Gate is so radiant that, at a glance, one could be forgiven for mistaking the mortal as an angel in disguise. However, like the cambion, Tav also has noble-born partygoers vying for their attention, asking (and more often than not being granted) a dance with the hero, and perhaps gossip of nobles approaching the hero with dowry proposals and attempts at wooing this illustrious guest begin to reach the fiend's ears.

Thank you for the prompt! <3 Super interesting. This is just Raphael being Raphael pretty much. It's not super edited so bear with me.

And to others who have also sent me prompts: I have gotten so many of them! I'm very grateful and I'll try my best to get to as many of them as I can, though I have already warned that I am pretty slow.

Revenge (SFW)

Viola Gist, an elderly member of the Gist family who had run the trade of dyes in Baldur’s Gate, was talking Raphael’s ear off in the corner of the grand ball room. Nobles from all over the city had gathered in High Hall for one of the city’s annual balls.

Raphael was dressed in his best as always and managed to fit in so well that no one ever bothered to question if he actually belonged to the nobility of Baldur’s Gate. It was an art he had perfected many centuries ago. He rarely needed an invitation to go anywhere.

It was even easier when he happened to know quite a few people there. There was not a family in the Gate that he had not dealt with at some point. The ones who knew what he was kept wonderfully quiet, for no noble wanted to confess that they had asked for the help of a devil to keep their place far above heads of the smallfolk.

In fact, Lady Gist’s late husband himself had been a client of his and his soul was currently stashed away in his House of Hope. It seemed that his wife had moved on rather quickly, with the way she was dressed and the looks she was giving Raphael.

He indulged her, of course, with his smiles and charming comments. Her soul was not worth much, but what could he say? He was a collector, and he did love the idea of having the full set. Was their son and heir as gullible as his parents, he could be tempted to swing by to get him too in a couple of years.

Viola Gist kept blathering on while he tried his best to look intensely interested in what she said. He already had her. He was sure that all she needed was the tiniest push to convince her to sign his contract. Lady Gist was interrupted by some commotion behind her. Raphael raised an eyebrow and looked to where people seemed to be gathering around something or someone.

“Oh, it’s her,” the elderly lady said with a sneer after looking over her shoulder. “Can you imagine that? She was barely even raised in the city and now that she has returned, everyone is fawning over her for her hand in marriage. Between you and me, she might have the Sashenstar name, but she is truly only a distant relative to the main family.”

“Indeed? What a shame,” Raphael said and smiled at her. “The men of Baldur’s Gate surely must have terrible taste to hunt for anything new and shiny when there is such a magnificent jewel such as yourself right in front of them.”

His flirtations worked like a charm. Lady Gist blushed and giggled like a woman at least 40 years younger than what she actually was.

“It’s kind of you to say,” she said with that shrill giggle of hers. “Furthermore, I have been raised like a lady. You would not see me traversing through the wilderness with strangers, killing creatures of any sort like some brute.”

An odd description, Raphael thought.

“A brute, you say?” he asked. “What is the lady’s name?”

Lady Gist looked like she was trying to remember.

“Oh, it’s some dreadfully simple name,” she said and looked at the floor as she was thinking. “I don’t recall. It’s that girl that saved the city, or so they say. Mav? Tav?”

Raphael’s eyes widened slightly.

“Tav?” he asked slowly. “Tav…Sashenstar?”

“Yes, her,” Lady Gist said and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

That was news to him. He had done so much careful digging on the adventurers back then, but the fact that the little mouse who had snubbed him of his crown was a noble had not come up.

He looked through the crowd over the Lady’s shoulder. There she was, being almost smothered by suitors, wearing a dress, looking…presentable. Raphael might not have recognized her had he not been told she was there. Her smile was strained but polite as she greeted the people around her. She was rather pretty when she was not dressed in shabby armor and her hair did not look like a rat’s nest, he thought.

He had not seen her for so long. He had of course heard about their success with defeating the Netherbrain and everything that had happened after. He also knew who the Crown of Karsus had been given to and how that had ended. Perhaps there was an opportunity here…

Tav looked over the crowd and her eyes fell on Raphael. Her eyes widened completely and the smile on her lips fell when she saw him. She immediately averted her eyes from him, acting like she never saw him. Raphael smiled widely.

“We will talk again later, Viola,” he said and kissed Lady Gist’s hand. “There is an old associate that I simply must talk to.”

Tav had almost forgotten about him amongst all the noise and all the people, particularly young men, who wanted to speak and dance with her. She was dancing with a young man who was her age. He seemed nice, but like all the others, he was dreadfully boring, and it was so painfully clear that he was trying to sell himself to her. She hated it. She hated all of it.

The music finally stopped, and she was freed from him. She smiled politely to him before curtsying. When she turned around, someone grasped around her waist and caught her hand as the next song started. She looked up and panicked. She tried to move away but Raphael’s grip on her waist was firm.

“Ah-ah, dear,” he said and began to lead the dance. “No reason to cause a scene.”

She was still staring at him with wide eyes and dug her nails into his shoulder as he lead the dance with complete ease.

“Why are you here?” she asked hurriedly with a frown while trying not to fall over her own feet.

“I am working,” he answered with a smile. “I would ask why you are here, but word travels quickly in these circles. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, dear? Does the noble life suit you?”

“I don’t need anything, and you are not getting my soul.”

Raphael chuckled deeply.

“You wound me, dear,” he said and spun her around. “Is it truly such an impossible thought that I simply wanted to hear how you were faring?”

“Yes,” she quickly answered. “I’m fine. I’m doing wonderful.”

“Splendid,” he purred with a smile. “Although…I am terribly sorry to hear about your little sweetheart. The God of Ambition, was it? At least it must be to some relief to you that one of you got what you wanted.”

She stepped down hard on Raphael’s foot. He groaned and tightened his grip on her.

“Whoops,” she said and smiled spitefully at him. “I’m still getting the hang of this dancing thing, I’m afraid.”

“Mm, yes. How clumsy of you,” he grumbled and then continued talking. “And now you are to be married to one of these fine men in here. Has anyone caught your eye?”

“You know I could just tell everyone in here what you are,” she warned.

“So no,” Raphael sighed. “Marriage…Such a dull concept, isn’t it? You have seen horrors beyond most mortal’s comprehension, beaten terrible odds, saved the world, and now you are soon to be a noble lady. Sitting pretty beside some fat patriar. Is that truly what you want?”

She looked at him with anger in her eyes. He knew the answer to his question, of course, but she was all too easy to rile up.

“I wanted him,” she confessed quietly with a frown. “That’s all I wanted.”

“And all he wanted was the crown,” Raphael said with feigned sympathy. “Now Gale Dekarios is a god of the Heavens. He got everything he wanted, and yet you lost the man you loved, and I the crown I craved for centuries. Poor us. Fate is cruel, my dear.”

She sneered at him. The song finally came to an end and Raphael let her go. He smirked at her and bowed. She headed straight for the balcony, grabbing a glass of champagne on her way. Raphael followed. She was not going to escape him so easily.

“You look stunning tonight, by the way,” she heard Raphael’s voice from behind her. “Any of these poor fools would be lucky to have you.”

She looked over her shoulder and glared at him.

“Piss off, devil,” she grumbled and took a sip of her champagne.

“I see that your dancing is not the only thing you will have to work on,” he said with a chuckle and leaned against the balcony railing beside her. “Those manners of yours are horrendous as ever. Hardly befitting of a noble lady.”

She leaned her back against the railing and looked at him with her arms crossed and a furious frown on her face.

“I know what you are doing, you know.”

“Oh? What am I doing, my dear?” Raphael asked with a wide smile at her.

“You are trying to lure me into something,” she said. “Trying to remind me of my past, what I lost, but oh you can ‘help’, isn’t that right? You can make it all go away and make me happy again, if only I sign my name on one of your contracts. So, I reiterate: Piss off.”

Someone was on their way out to the balcony. One of her suitors from the look of recognition in the young man’s eyes. Raphael snapped and made the door close and lock in his face without even looking over his shoulder.

“You have me all figured out, haven’t you?” Raphael purred. “No, Tav. I simply stumbled upon an old client who seems miserable with the way that everything has turned out. No matter how much you smile in there, you cannot convince me that this life is something you want.”

“It’s none of your concern,” she said firmly.

“Oh, but it pains me to see people like yourself drenched in so much misery,” he cooed with feigned sympathy. “And it is miserable, isn’t it? To be so close to greatness just to have it snatched away again and be forced to face the same old dreadful sense of normalcy in one’s life.”

It bothered her to no end to have him compare losing the Crown of Karsus to her losing the love of her life. She knew that a part of him was just taunting her for not making the choice of giving the Crown of Karsus to him, because things would have been different if she did. Gale would never have ascended if she had.

“We are not the same,” she said. “And I really do not need your shoulder to cry on.”

“Perish the thought. I am not pitying you. I am simply saying that we are not so different after all. We are simply…” he waved a hand as he looked for the right word. “Talking…Bonding. Isn’t that what your sort calls it?”

“Bonding?” she said and wrinkled her nose at the absurdity of his words. “Spare me your annoying sales tactics and get to the point. What do you want?”

“You,” he said casually and carefully caught her hand with his. “Not your hand in marriage, you understand, though I am sure the two of us could have an awful lot of fun together, and ambitious men do seem to be your type…”

When she did not remove her hand, Raphael smiled and snaked his other hand around her waist. He had her right where he wanted her, and his little theory had been correct: she was lonely, and she was desperate. He was almost salivating at the thought.

“I am proposing a partnership of a different sort entirely,” he purred and wrapped both of his arms around her waist. “One that can reignite that spark in your eyes and take you far away from this dull new life of yours. You won’t even have to give me your soul. You simply have to answer one little question…”

She was looking up at him with expectant eyes. She was interested and there was no doubt about it.

“What?” she asked.

“Your lover left you to pursue greater things,” Raphael stated and ran his hand slowly up and down her back. “You tried to convince him not to, but he didn’t listen to you. He left you here, all alone, forced to go back to a life you never wanted in the first place because you did not share his ambition. My question is this: do you still only want him, or is it something else you crave now? Is it love…or is it revenge you are after?”

Her breathing got slightly heavier as she thought, as if caught up in conflicting emotions.

“Revenge,” she admitted in a quiet voice after a while.

“Good,” Raphael purred with a wicked smile. “Then it is settled, is it not? I want the crown and you want revenge. You are possibly the only person he would ever let into the Heavens. We can both get what we want and let me assure you, I never forget those who helped me to power like your dear Gale did.”

“I’m not sure,” she said quietly as she looked up at him. “Gale is a god now. He might be watching over me. That could be a hindrance in your little plan.”

They were standing so close now and the way her eyes ever so briefly went to his lips did not go past him. He could easily give her a taste of that revenge she so desperately wanted, just to draw her in further.

“Indeed. He might be,” Raphael purred and smiled. “Should we give him a show then?”

Raphael pushed her further back against the railing with his body. One of his hands went to the back of her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss. She kissed him back eagerly. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled him in further. It was a hungry kiss.

Raphael was no fool. He knew that it was all simply to anger her old flame, but that did not mean that he didn’t thoroughly enjoy her enthusiasm. They stopped when they heard a knock on the door to the balcony. They both looked and saw a group of nobles looking at them through the glass window.

Tav was blushing when Raphael looked back at her. He smiled and snapped his fingers to take them away to the House of Hope to further discuss their plans, away from the nobles and gods who might have been listening.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

I got a lovely email from the young person who painted the Whitman line "These are the days that must happen to you" under the bridge at my old high school, and she told me my work had been helpful to her. That email came--as generous words so often do--right when I needed it. 

The whole reason I wanted to write for teens is because of the writers who carried me through the days that must happen to you. 

It is It is such a joy to think that my work might provide some of that same consolation and accompaniment to young people. What a privilege.

Over the last ten years, I have often struggled to think about anything other than the way my stories come up short--the failures and insufficiencies, which I guess are present in any author’s work. But I’m able to read others generously in a way that I simply can’t read myself, and so when people pause to tell me that they’ve managed to read past those flaws and find something useful or encouraging or unaloneing, I am very grateful indeed.

Anyway, 2023 tumblr is for radical earnestness, the Internet’s most underrated emotion.

[sparklefangs]

my library is saving my mental health

I was diagnosed with epilepsy in January and am no longer allowed to drive.

I live in the ass-end of nowhere - my town has about 1600 people in it according to the last census - and all the third spaces in a 45 minute drive radius, every single one, have been shut down by landlords who kept driving the rent up. (Seriously - a gaming cafe that had been there for 11 years and was always packed, a local institution, just closed a couple months ago because they couldn't afford the rent anymore.) I also can't walk anywhere at all because the roads have no shoulders, and locals in unnecessarily massive pickup trucks drive as though coming 3 inches from hitting pedestrians is their favorite sport.

Over the last 7 months I've felt my soul slowly leaking out like a nosebleed. There's so much I can't do. I can't go anywhere. I don't have friends or family to visit. Have you ever had a mental breakdown because you physically couldn't go buy a half gallon of milk? It's not great. I mean, obviously, a fair number of people experience that, but if you haven't, and suddenly that's your reality, it's pretty jarring. Even if you're an introvert, you still have the option available to you. Now imagine you don't anymore, even if you feel like you could. You just legally and by circumstance of location cannot leave the house unless someone takes you.

So, once a week, my partner drives me the half hour to our tiny little library and drops me off. It's not in walking distance of anything, so I sit there for six hours reading. Just chilling out in my favorite chair with a book. It's great.

I'm not the only person who does this. No matter what day of the week I'm there, I see the same people sitting in their favorite spots, doing the same thing I am. It's mostly older people, but also younger folks with various visible disabilities, and I assume others, like me, who probably have less visible disabilities and nowhere else to go.

This is an extremely conservative area but the staff managed to find a corner of the YA section for a tiny little pride-themed book display. I thought it was just for June, but it's mid-July and the display is still there.

I'm so grateful for this library. Even if you buy a lot of books or mainly use audible or kindle, go visit yours from time to time. Check out books, even if you don't get around to reading them. Sign up for events they might have - ours does a monthly "blind book date" thing where you tell them what you like to read, they pick out a couple books for you, and give you a few little themed extras in your box. Show that they're important so they can keep getting funding.

They need to stick around and you might not even realize how important they are until, like me, you have nowhere else to go. I've always valued libraries but now I find myself one of the people who actually really, truly needs it in a very personal and immediate way.

PS - And tell the library staff how much you appreciate what they do. They get yelled at all the time by jackasses who probably don't even use the library but are mad because they heard there are rainbows on some of the books.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Radioactive Apocalypse

The constant upset and warring provinces have prepared the world for the worst. Before the blowout, many thought it wise to pay for a bunker for the oncoming atomic apocalypse. Most of the population couldn’t afford to do so, let alone believe that it would be needed. 

They’d be wrong.

Whether you are one of the unsuspecting public or a passive believer, average day life doesn’t have you safely tucked in a bunker when the initial alarms go off. You are smooshed against others in a large crowd all watching and listening in awe. But the moment one person screams it's all over. The crowd twists and turns pulling you in no specific direction. As the final alarms ring out an arm pulls you through the chaotic crowd and into a bunker full of others reeling at the recent events. So here you find that you are trapped safely in the stifling and well-furnished  Atomic Bunker. 

“Who pulled me in here?”

“Does it matter! You survived the initial blast, didn’t you? Ungrateful twat.”

“No need to be hostile, little brother. It's natural to be vexed after watching the world end. Right in front of you.”

“Oh, all those poor souls!”

“My lady, your handkerchief.”

“My baby! My baby! I didn’t grab them! Oh, my poor baby!”

“There there, we’re all very shaken up—”

“B-b-b-but y-y-y-your still smiling—.”

“We are all dealing with the pain in different ways. But let's all take a breather and relax.”

“You don’t sound all that upset to me either.”

“I can say the same thing to you, but I guess you’re just happy to be off the streets, right?’

“Oi!”

Hearing the cacophony of such a colorful cast distracts from the initial fear. Their voices remind you that you're not suffering like the rest of those unfortunate people. They allow you to cry with an audience of fellow mourners and those who can keep calm easily. Before you can let the silence set in, they pull you back with their bickering. It's always either one or two of them that is always voicing their concerns. There’s always a voice of reason, something you’re grateful for as you desperately search for a distraction. 

“Everyone! I believe introductions are in order! I am the middle child of the Penz household as well as the main manager of the bunker.”

With a blonde head of hair and a funky sense of style, his smile persists. Uvil Penz is an interesting guy as you’ll come to find. Aside from smiling during the ongoing onslaught of atomic warfare he always has a way of looking on the bright side for better or worse. 

“Oh, my baby!” 

“Now please miss dry your tears, there are plenty of toys down here to distract yourself with.”

His optimism is surely unique as you can’t quite place where it may stem from. On one hand, you could see it as an unemotional response with an attempt to soothe. But you’ll see him laugh genuinely or offer insight into a person’s emotions. On the other hand, it may come from a sly condescending perspective. It fits right along with his brothers’ behavior. But the way he works to compliment you often, attempting to keep your spirits high, or how he’ll make a request for your favorite foods to be scavenged makes you think otherwise. 

“(Y/n)?”

“Huh? Uh yeah?”

“Did ya know: you’re gorgeous even with those tear streaks on your face.”

“What?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I think you really needed to hear that now.”

Or maybe that’s just you because you have a hard time believing Uvil trying to be soothing when he’s smiling widely after making someone cry. But it's hard to be decisive about liking or disliking the blonde as he could very well be the one who grabbed your wrist and pulled you in. On top of that, he allows everyone to stay even as opportunity knocks on the bunker door. As long as you don’t mind his ever-present smile and disconnected sympathy life will be great.

“I, Uvil Penz welcome you to the Penz bunker. Now little brother, go on. Introduce yourself.”

“Eugh! Get off me! Ugh, my name’s William and I know this bunker better than anyone else. So better learn to respect me!” 

He’s certainly not like his brother. At least not on the surface. With black short hair and a disgusted sneer constantly on his face. He doesn’t bother comforting anyone at least not in the typical way. Any advice or comfort is said through gritted teeth or with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Look, if yer gonna keep crying do it in one of the soundproof rooms. You're bothering those of us who want to think!”

Not to mention he’s the first to point out your insecurities or make fun of you for grieving at all. Don’t worry you’re not the only one, he goes just as hard if not harder on everyone else. Making sure everyone is well aware that the whole group knows of their problems. Usually snickering or outright laughing at whoever he’s decided to victimize. At one point, everyone will be annoyed with him. As much as he loves to boast about it he is the only one who knows how to maintain the bunker. 

“Gosh, you are such a pain in the–”

“Don’t forget who knows how to start up the generator…so unless you want to enjoy life without lights, you’ll put your fists down.”

“Ugh! Fine.”

“Thank you…meathead.”

“YOU LITTLE-”

Despite his arrogance, his snarky jabs, and the weirdly endearing way he seeks you out the atomic apocalypse wouldn’t be the same without him. For as annoying and degrading as he may be, he’s still willing to share his switch with you when you’re feeling particularly bored. Making sure you can’t see his face when he pokes the controller against your cheek. 

“Come on. You’re bored aren’t you?”

“You…want me to play with you?”

“Well duh! So…are you?”

“I-I’d love to!”

Not to mention he knows the cheat codes to all the games in the arcade room. And if you do him small favors he’ll share his limited edition ramen with you. Now he may ask for your undergarments or your toothbrush but that’s nothing in the endless days spent in the bunker. After all, it's better than the atomic aftermath out there and according to the only Penz willing to go out there, you wouldn’t last a day.

“Well, my introduction’s done. Marc!”

“Yeah yeah, ‘sup everyone. I’m Marco.”

The eldest of the Penz brothers is concerningly nonchalant from the very beginning of your stay in the bunker. With his girlfriend on his arm and an easy-going attitude, he doesn’t really bother to comfort anyone other than her. Except maybe you. 

“Hey didn’t take you for a late-night snacker. You okay?”

“I’m—fine, excuse me.”

“Whoa whoa, lil’ bunny. Don’t run away just yet, the wolf has questions.”

“Please just–I’ll go back to the room.”

“Nah-ah sit bunny.”

“But you took the only chair.”

“Right here, bunny. We’ve got all night.”

Supposedly, he was quite the womanizer before he got with his current girlfriend. Will makes a point to mention it anytime anyone you is found flustered or flattered by his attention. Even so, he doesn’t let that stop him from caging you against the bunker walls to ask for something. Or teasing you when he retrieves something from outside the bunker. 

“Come on just grab it.”

“Why are you holding it there? Just hand it to me normally!”

“So rude. I don’t feel like complying with a fussy bunny who doesn’t use their words.”

“Ugh! Fine. Please just hand it to me normally.”

“Ha no.”

“WHY NOT?!”

“It’s perfectly fine just grab it, babe. I don’t mind if you touch me along the way.”

For all his teasing and carefree behavior, he’s a good scavenger. Able and willing to brave the atomic wasteland when the bunker needs supplies. He’s strong and prepared to take on any unruly travelers who come by or intervene during scavenger hunts. 

He’s not all that opinionated when it comes to debates in the bunker. More excited to grab a snack and watch the chaos unfold. Smiling lightly as things get heated and tensions rise. In that way, he’s like an idle NPC but the second his boundaries are crossed then you have to deal with the rare and angry Will. 

“C-calm down Will…y-your not going to k-kill him right?”

“He’s the one who thought inviting our bunker-mates to play in that wasteland was a good idea.”

“Honey, it’s okay! (Y/n) didn’t actually go, right? So it’s okay, right Fin?”

“Yes, my lady is correct.”

It’s just better for everyone that no one gets on his bad side. And that everyone doesn’t mess with the things that make him happy: His peace, his girlfriend's peace, and your peace the happiness of specific bunker mates.

“Oh yeah, this my girl.”

“Um hello everyone. My name is Aria, Aria Mensloth. Marco was the one who brought me here.”

“Lucky you, I bet he’s the only one willing.”

“...Oh uhm yes I am quite grateful. I hope we can all get along.”

Aria is the sheltered blue-haired girlfriend of the eldest Penz brother. Opposites attract because, despite his immense uncaring personality, she’s generally more caring. Trying to check up on everyone she can even if her privileged life brings more misunderstandings than intended. 

“You seem upset, is it perhaps because you skipped breakfast this morning?”

“Uh no.”

“Oh well, for me this is a bigger change from the usual three-course breakfast I’m used to.”

“Okay…”

“Do you not know what that is like?”

She has the best intentions but she’s still learning. Too bad for her the ones in this bunker she is familiar with don’t bother correcting her or informing her unless directly asked. Her boyfriend would sooner chuckle and play with her hair than fill in the blanks. Her butler refuses to say much else than what is needed. So guess who she decides to attach herself to? You, of course. You're the most normal lovely bunker mate around and you don’t immediately insult her when she seeks to shadow you as you navigate your life in the bunker. 

“Ah, so you pick your own clothes out. How fascinating!” 

“Uhm Aria don’t you do the same?”

“Oh no, my butler picks everything out for me. It’s always been that way.”

“Oh…Would you want to try picking out your own clothes, sometime?”

“For myself? Oh no, I’m far too inexperienced….but maybe I could help pick out your outfits!”

“Wait–”

“Does that sound like a good idea, Butler Fin? Can we do it?”

“I see no problem with that my lady.”

“Oh good!”

As Will’s girlfriend, she’s an important person to keep happy. Wouldn’t want to deny her, especially when her beloved boyfriend is working so hard for the rest of the bunker. Not to mention her butler with an ominous gaze who is more than willing to exact her every wish. No matter how invasive it is to your privacy. You’ll have to be careful with your words. Wouldn’t want to make her cry...right?

“Aria, don’t.”

“Ari! Call me Ari!” 

“Ari sorry okay! I just don’t want to bathe with you, so please get off.”

“Y-you’re not trying to leave me, are you?! Didn’t Uvil tell us not to waste any supplies!? So please let me join!”

For as pushy as Aria can be, calling her out on her behavior or offering to tattle on her to her boyfriend usually gets her off your back. But where she lacks persistence, her butler makes up for it. 

“Hello everyone, I am the Mensloth Butler Finster. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Finster or Fin, is like any depiction of a dutiful butler come to life. Even with the threat of the atomic apocalypse, he’s still maintaining his mistress throughout. He doesn’t talk much outside of responding to Aria and occasionally the Penz brothers. 

“...”

“Look butler-man, if you’re goin’ to make breakfast why not feed us all?”

“...”

“Butler Fin.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can you make breakfast for Will, (Y/n), and me?”

“Yes, of course, my lady.”

“Wow….really?!”

You’ll find when he’s alone he can speak without addressing his mistress only when he wants to. But he seems to enjoy your company, especially during the night cycle when Aria is fast asleep. He smiles openly with you, cracking jokes about the day he appeared numb to before. 

“Well, it seems as though you were right about them. Fighting with each other like chickens in a coop.”

“Right? I thought I’d be the only one who noticed.”

“Please your observations are hardly wrong, it helps that we can talk like this with each other. Helps us remember how to communicate. I really appreciate that you’re willing to.”

“Oh uh, no problem I like talking to you too..”

“No, thank you (Y/n). I doubt I could hold any level of sanity if it weren’t for you.”

When push comes to shove, he is capable of holding his own in a debate. His actions can be interpreted as that of a selfless and devoted butler. But it can also be read as that of someone with their own agenda—something practically impossible to decipher by his behavior alone.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for (Y/n) to leave the bunker, either.”

“Y-your actually s-s-speaking? On your own?”

“Well, I bet it’s only because he wants his master lady to not cry like a baby!”

“Was that your intention, Finnster?”

“...My lady, is my top priority at all times.”

It’s a nice illusion though, that he’d be a somewhat normal character, considering he’s often the only one whom you can hold a normal conversation with, without walking away thinking he’s obsessed with you. But his actions do. Oftentimes, watching his behavior without his explanation would make anyone worry.

“Excuse me?”

“I just wanted to ask about you pushing Aria that one time. Why would you do that?”

“Push? Push?! Oh no you’ve got it all wrong, I was attempting to support her back as we looked at the sewer. She did lose her footing but as you saw Marco and I caught her all the same.”

“Oh okay sorry, for misjudging.”

“It’s fine, though I’d be quick to forgive if you joined in some baking with me.”

Always good at conversation, and always willing to help, Butler Finn is a friend to confide in. Someone to talk to about the odd behaviors and conversations you've had with others. One of the other ones you can talk to about this would be your resident walking encyclopedia. 

“H-h-h-hi e-e-everyone I’m S-S-Simpson G-G-g-gron, Will b-b-brought me here.”

He’s like a stereotype incarnated, listing off all sorts of facts you would have never found yourself dedicated to remembering. With a stutter at the beginning of every sentence, Simpson refuses any sort of leadership, very similar to Will’s approach. Rather than having a bonafide position to argue when debates happen he prefers to chime in with what he knows for sure. 

“Look, the sooner we head out. The sooner we can all actually eat something real.”

“But you realize what the risk of leaving may mean, right?”

“The world burned away! Yeah, I got it.”

“A-a-a-actucally I think Uvil sir is r-r-referring to radiation posioning.”

“What?!” 

“The atomic b-b-b-bomb is not only the bringer of destruction, b-b-b-but a disease bringer.”

When he’s not bringing up important information he’s hanging around Will, stuttering a lot less and talking technically with one another. While Will is prickly, he’s able to properly articulate what he knows while also hurting your feelings. Simpson on the other hand…just can’t. It’s something you’ll try working with him on but once he gets going he just can’t stop.

“Okay let’s try this—why should I consider learning code?”

“Well…i-i-it’ll help y-y-y-you understand the programs you use the m-m-m–m-m-most?”

“Good. Now how so?”

“Well..learningtheintricaciesofcodingwillnotonlyallowyoutomanipulateyourownprograms–”

“Okay—now hold on–”

“Butintheendlearningthecodecsnotonlyallowanyonetoknowthesourcesofthewebsitesthatfunctionwithai–”

“Hey-wait!”

“IsitnotwisetolearnwhattheoneswhowillsurvivethistragedyworkthroughyoureyeslookasenchantingaseverAnywaythereallanguagetheyworkwithnowisbinarycodebutthatshouldn’tbe.”

“And there he goes.”

The real advantage of this though is his ability to return the favor of listening to his rambles. He happily listens to yours and comes with questions you’d only find yourself answering in an imaginary interview. But the adoring indigo-green gaze behind those iconic square glasses makes it impossible not to appreciate him. Not to mention, he and Will are the only two who religiously compete with you in the arcade room.

“Ack–that move is illegal!”

“Actually it's quite the opposite, really. This is the rule within the actual manual of the game’s lore–”

“Yeah, (Y/n) don’t be a crybaby you didn’t do your studying.”

“But you hid all the gaming manuals from me!” 

“Well, you are the one who bet something unspecified of yours. It would be unwise not to sabotage you.”

“Ack-! To be admitting it so openly!”

“No use lying about our tactics now that we are guaranteed a win.”

As the most obvious voice of reason, it isn’t a bad idea to be in his good graces. It also makes it harder to believe your own observations when you listen to his. Able to look at the bigger picture while you only have your snapshot or so he says. 

“But doesn’t this kind of product, have dire consequences for eating past the expiration date? And wasn’t there some craze about the aphrodisiac effects it has?”

“That’s a widely spread misconception, the craze was actually about the dopamine rush from the expired product.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure I remember the fanfics celebrating the stuff.”

“You are mistaken!”

“Uh okay.”

So if there’s anyone to rely on it’d be him. He may not be able to care for you as well as some of the others in the bunker. Or be as concerned as others but he’s trying his best. Of course, others may not even heed any of his efforts. Then again some of them hold themselves very highly. 

“Oh, my baby!”

“Miss are you okay to talk or–”

“My name’s Henrietta Spitz! What’s your name?”

“Uhm (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)! Oh (Y/n) I’m so sad!” 

Henrietta is probably one of the oddest characters in the bunker. Known as the distraught young mother who was dragged in by one of the…good samaritans within the bunker. If you aren’t swallowed by grief you’ll be swallowed by hers because she doesn’t let anyone forget what she’s gone through. 

“Wahhh~(Y/n) can I sleep with you?!”

“Uhm why would you need to?”

“I used to sleep with my baby at night. It’d just help me loads if your warm soft body next to mine.”

“Just like your…baby?”

“Yes, just like them~!”

But when she’s not wailing into your chest about her lost child, she’ll start up with a new…grieving routine. One that revolves around you drinking her milk…right from the tap that is. You want to argue with her–put a stop to this weird practice that she seems deadset that you be the only participant. But she cries aaalllll the time. If she isn’t set on fussing over you or forcing you to ‘help’ her grieving she whines and screams bothering everyone in the bunker. So you’ll take one for the team…right?

“I-I have milk for everyone!”

“ We have rations Miss so it's not an issue.”

“B-b-but we might run out! It’ll stop coming if it’s not drunken up!”

“Then perhaps the breast pump you had in your bag would be helpful.”

“B–b-but to keep this up I need to have a hungry mouth on there. It just won’t be the same.”

On top of that, her fleeting sadness for her child seems to conveniently leave her countenance the second it’s too inconvenient. It’s not all that obvious at first, easily being written off as her healing grief. But when she uses it for her own agenda so obviously it’s a little hard to take her seriously.

“STOP CLINGING TO (Y/N)!”

“Nooo! I want them to spend time with me!”

“It isn’t healthy to keep them locked up in your room like this. And (Y/n) you want to leave, don’t you? Finally, get to stretch your legs?”

“Yeah, I–”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I-I-I-My baby!?”

“What?”

“If you leave, the thoughts of my baby will come back and I just can’t bear it. (Y/n) please!”

Some will argue that what she’s doing is projecting her idea of her baby onto you. That she’s stuck in a psychosis that revolves around the one who she feels is meek enough to baby. But a grieving mother who would be projecting wouldn't do what she does. Everyone grieves differently but it’s the nature of her advancements that might lead anyone to suspect she’s not as motherly as she seems.

“Oh~(Y/n)~!”

“Yes?”

“Did you know something else my baby did?”

“Uhm what?”

“They’d let me wash them all over. And give kisses to me–”

“Okay.”

“On the mouth with an open mouth!”

“Okay? And?!”

It raises some concerning questions and speculations about her story. And how she was able to make it inside the bunker when everyone separately admits they did no such thing as lead her in. Or how she often mixes up the name of the child she seems so stuck on grieving. 

At the end of the day, she’s friendly to you…and maybe only you. She’s quick with her own insults the second anyone goes to question her or make their suspicions known. That and she seems to wryly refer to some hidden piece of information that keeps everyone from encroaching on her behavior. 

With all that being said. She’s definitely not one to forget for her attention to you, barely rivaled by the self-appointed scavenger and protector of you+ the bunker.

“I’m Grant and that’s all you need to know for now. I’ve got questions.”

“Ask a way, Grant.”

“Why do you even have this big of a bunker?”

“Is it so bad that we thought of comfort before the world’s end?”

“...I don’t buy it.”

If there was someone you’d expect to be the main character of some dystopian novel it’d be him. Cynical, confident, and muscled like no other, he becomes the bunker’s prime protector. Despite openly not trusting the Penz brothers he is the first to demand they do something when problems arise. While he’ll sooner croak than admit he relies on them, he does often light the fire for action from the prickly trio. 

“So what are you going to do about this?”

“Hm? Are you acknowledging me as the leader now?”

“No, but if everyone else has already I’d rather not rock the boat.”

“How benevolent of you!”

“Grrr.”

Hotheaded but not impulsive Grant becomes a significant facet of the group. Especially since the bunker needs more supplies. Brave and bold enough he’s willing to dawn the Hazmat suit and venture into the rumored wasteland that remains. It helps that he goes out of his way to help you settle and find your stance as the world goes through change.

“Hey. Here's some of the stuff I brought back. From the address you gave me.”

“Grant! This is-! I’m so surprised it even survived!”

“There wasn’t too much left but it was small enough and I thought it would survive the cleaning process.”

“Grant, really thank you!”

“...I-it’s no problem, you’re just lucky the blast didn’t damage it all too much.”

You’ll find he’s a compassionate guy at heart hardened by some terrible past he occasionally alludes to. But that harsh exterior tends to make up most of his image. Which can often lead to the group having…misconceptions about his personality.

“For a stupid delinquent that guy’s awful complex.”

“Speak for yourself! He keeps trying to tell me what to do!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! He said the time I spend hanging out with (Y/n) is unhealthy! What a nosy brat, criticizing my grieving process.”

“...Whatever."

The animosity for certain members of the bunker would become all too clear for you as the days pass. Such behavior is natural for those trapped in the same tight quarters. The same tight quarters that you can’t seem to leave; forced to watch these characters destroy themselves as they fight over something you.+ 

“Oh, guess it's my turn my name’s–”

“We’re happy you're here (Y/n).”

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” 

“Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“We are all happy to meet you, (Y/n)!”

“Pft, suck-ups. Welcome, I guess.”

“I-I-I-I-I hope w-w-we can be close.”

“Oh (Y/n), you remind me so much of my lost little love! C’mere!”

“Hey Guys! Give them space!” 

The coming months will certainly be almost as chaotic as the world’s declining state. With your new family den of lions, surely there’s a sliver of a chance that you’ll thrive in the radioactive apocalypse. 

It’s best you start documenting your adventure now….

[rqbossman]

Hello Mr Bossman! (and possibly anyone else who reads this)

Its an honour to be here, I have a few questions. First i appologise for the long paragraph, you may dismiss it for the questions at the bottom. For context, i am here after finishing TMA and being up to date with TMAP, i then went over and listened to RQG, and have just finished listening to Epilogue 3 and might i just say, good sir I am grateful for your podcasts. I am currently just a few months away from my final exams of High School, and as someone who even just 1 year ago was very lost, struggling with school and being just overwhelmed. TMA isnt exactly comforting, but the characters and plot managed to serve as a good form of escapism while sorting myself out. I found my self engaging more in creative things that i had originally put aside in favour of maths and science (which i hated but thought i needed to do). I started drawing again, even if just fanart. and i found things going well. By finding podcasts, story telling and these communities have helped me in my own understanding of what i want in life. I got an ADHD diagnosis earlier this year, and almost directly after started RQG and as my first hyperfixation (that i was aware of as an hyperfixation) gosh dang it hit hard. (in a good way). Ive been able to do so much more creative writing and drawings, and got re-involved with a small dnd group with some friends who i played one game with almost 4 years ago now. So overall, inspirational sounds cringe, but it was. Im doing my best with the upcoming exams, but trying to get in to Medicine is not my only prority, and the fact ive been re-introduced to my first love (Literature and story telling), im planning to go do an Arts degree and i know i wouldnt have been able to confidently make this decision, or even have survived this long in the school system without the work you and your coworkers do. Now the sap is out of the way, Question time! (if you could answer even just one of these questions it would be so cool)(they go in order of RQ relevant to random stuff)(dont feel pressured to answer all/any. i know i wrote alot): 1. what would you say is the best way to draft out a long-form story. (with "Erasing the Line" as an example) Did you start at the end, with the links to the overarching plot.

2. When working with the players (in a form of TTRPG), what did you do to make sure you didnt miss relevant timing of plot points/ avoid creating spoilers while still giving enough detail?

3. What are good places to start with making a job out of storytelling/voice acting/audio etc. In the case of RQ, how is this a job and where do i sign up please! /j (what i mean is, how is best way/how did you find all the people involved and was there a common path that you were all on before getting to where you are now?) 4. Do you have recommendations for Terry Pratchett Books, i may be an literary-leaning student, but it seems i have never actually properly read any of his books. so where is best place to start?/What did you read first?

5. Similar authors or similar inspirations? Did you have a favourite podcast you listen to in your free time that you havnt had a hand in producing/directing/working on. 6. Favourite song/album/artist. And more specifically, what you like listening to in background when doing either writing or (for ttrpg) character research/game planing. 7. Since the olympics are on at the moment, what has been your favourite sport to watch, if you have been watching at all. Thank you for your time :)

Thankyou for all the kind words. Knowing our work is helping people really keeps our engines fired up. Let's see if I can't answer your questions: 1. I "sandbox" which is where I just shove everything I can think of into an unorganised bullet point list. Characters, setting, plot, all of it in one big mess. Then I decide what type of story you want to tell, copy and paste to a new document and then start to organise the thoughts (with the sandbox on standby if new stuff comes in I don't know what to do with). I think of it like scultping, you cut away bits and reshape until something comes out the other end that is story shaped. Only then do I attempt to build the sandcastle and put something coherant together like a synopsis or scratch draft etc.

2. Very tricky. I did a complete review and update of all notes after each recording session and don't forget the audio eas edited. I made lots of gaffs that you never heard as audience.

3. I contacted anyone I could convince to take part and just proved I was serious by overworking. I don't reccomend that route. Unfortunately it really is "who" you know. That doesn't mean chase established professionals as much as it means you need to get out there and associate with other up-and-comers who match your vibe. For me the route was long and windy and not a particularly good example. 4. I normally recommend people do not read his books in publication order. Don't get me wrong, its wonderful watching his craft grow from one title to the next but I would recommend new readers tip their toe into his later works to see if they like where he ended up before committing the time. I often recommend 'Monstrous Regiment' as people's first one. My favourite though is 'Thief of Time.'

5. I don't get much time to listen to podcasts in the last couple of years. I used to listen to a lot of non fiction. 'Stuff you Should Know' and that ilk. I also read a fair amount of classic YA fiction to unwind (Windinsger trilogy, Bartimeous, stuff like that.) 6. Paul Simon's Graceland but when working I assemble a playlist for each seperate project that is tonally appropriate. If I really need to focus I listen to Classical Minimalism. Or the Old School Runescape soundtrack. I'm allowed to be ecclectic. 7. I am actually in an incredibly busy work crunch at the moment so haven't seen any of it!

[moonblastbitch]

Yellow card update

Hi ya'll! So I barely use tumblr nowadays, but considering some stuff going on I thought it would be good to do a quick little come back.

So hi! I'm Kit, I write the griddlehark fic Yellow Card with my friend Starr. It's a very silly fanfiction about age difference Harrow and Gideon having an affair and raising a child together. It's pretty well known in TLT fan spaces which I'm super grateful for! It's not an understatement to call this little fic my pride and joy. I've spent the last two years working on it as my little labor of love and it's kinda grown a cult of followers! Really, it's a fun excuse for me and my friend to work on something we care about together. But lately I haven't felt inclined to work on it and I want to talk about why.

Over the last several months I've had some health stuff going on that's resulted in needing two surgeries. Along with that, I moved into a new place and my gf and I are managing some new financial stress. Plus, you know, the general state of democracy in decay all around the world. It doesn't leave me a lot of time or energy to write silly smut fic. Everyone has been very supportive of me taking the time I need to recover and I'm really grateful.

But... this is where I have to address some not great stuff. Today my friend approached me with a fanfiction making fun of my writing. And several posts from someone making fun of the tropes I use in the writing. Now, I want to make this abundantly clear. Absolutely no one is required to like my writing style or fics. I don't write for praise or wealth, just for my own personal happiness. I think everyone is within their right to complain to their friends if they dislike something they read. What I really can't tolerate however is this intense hostility toward myself or my fellow writers. Nor do I appreciate having an entire fic written mocking me or my stylistic choices.

Back when I first joined the TLT fandom in 2020 it was teeny tiny. Now it's a lot less so. It's been so satisfying to see everyone grow and change over the years, and I think I've grown a lot as a writer. Sadly though, I've seen a lot of stupid bullshit. I've seen personal friends of mine targeted in harassment campaigns because they ship the wrong ship. I've been added to public bookmarks complaining about my writing, I've been subtweeted, I've been made fun of. And I think I'm done.

I write for my own pleasure. I write to bond with my friends. I am not writing for homophobic assholes who use my work to mock me, nor make me or my co-writer the target of harassment. So, as a result, Yellow Card and all my other TLT fics are on an immidate hiatus, with the exception of one upcoming commission for the TLT for Palestine charity.

I spent a long time tonight debating if I should even write this post. It seems like by writing this I'd be giving the people making fun of me more ammo. But honestly? I don't care. My feelings are hurt. I am upset. I shouldn't have to hide that because some bullies will take bits of this statement to use in their next bitchy text post.

I want to reiterate something important. I am open to critque on my work. Anyone who has an issue with my writing style is more than welcome to come into my comments and let me know if something isn't flowing right, if there are unfortunate implications of a line I may not have considered, if there is something they personally find a bit distasteful. Sadly, the people doing this skipped right to mockery and ridicule, and that is unacceptable.

What drew me to this fandom in the first place was Muir's openness to her background in fanworks. She clearly takes such pride knowing her book series has spawned into a wild, happy fandom writing crack silliness and serious character study alike. Because that is what fandom is for. Having fun in a big beautiful sandbox, creating art with friends. And I treasure that deeply, even as I am forced to walk away from a space I love.

TLDR: TLT fandom is full of dicks. And not the kind I write about.

Thank you to everyone whose offered me kindness and support over the years! I truly appreciate you all. If you wanna stay in contact, it's easiest to find me over on twitter @moonblastbitch or discord (same name)

[metallicaislife]

The Photographer and the Guitarist

Requested by: Anon

Genre: 18+ smut, fluff with smut minors dni

Word Count: 1,515

Warnings: oral(f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex

The Photographer and the Guitarist pt 2

When I landed the gig of Metallica’s concert photographer I was over the moon. Not only would I get to see them perform, I got to travel with them too. 

I was pleasantly surprised with how welcoming they were. Having been in the industry long enough, I lowered my expectations so as to not be let down when someone who’s music I admire ends up being a total asshole. 

“How did you even get into concert photography?” Kirk asked, we were at a restaurant with the whole crew. I was surprised when he sat next to me. I’d had a few conversations in passing with him as I got to know all of the members of Metallica better. 

“I grew up going to concerts, music has always been a central part of who I am. As I got older I fell in love with photography and have been immensely lucky to have been able to combine the two.” I responded. 

“That is so cool. I don’t think it’s luck though, I’ve seen your photographs in the magazines. You’re talented and you’ve worked extremely hard to get to where you’re at.” Kirk said and munched on his food. 

“That is very kind of you to say, thank you.” I smiled. Kirk smiled back at me. 

It was really easy talking to Kirk. We got to know each other pretty well. 

That was just the beginning though. I found myself talking to Kirk pretty much all the time. In between soundchecks, on the road, whenever he had a spare moment. 

They had a show tonight, I was wandering backstage before it started. That’s when my eyes landed on Kirk, who had his shirt off. I didn’t mean to ogle, but I couldn’t help it. Distracted, my foot caught a wire and I nearly ate shit, the only thing stopping was an hand that came out of nowhere grabbing my elbow. Kirk looked up, and I looked back to see Cliff. 

“Thank you.” I said, feeling embarrassed. 

“Are you okay?” Kirk asked, I looked back over to him, my cheeks heating up. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” I replied. Cliff released my elbow as Kirk went back to getting dressed. 

“I think you already know, you need to be careful backstage. Even when there is a guitarist to fawn over.” Cliff said quietly. My eyes widened.

“Not a word to anyone.” I hissed. Cliff chuckled as he walked away. 

The rest of the night went without incident. Which I was grateful for.

We were halfway finished with the tour now, I was exhausted but at the same time wished this tour would never end. 

We got to the hotel to rest for the night. I was minding my own business as the tour manager dealt with the room situation. 

“Does it look like they’re plotting something?” A voice whispered to me, making me jump. I turned to see Kirk. “Sorry.” He chuckled. 

“Who looks like they’re what now?” I asked, feeling a little flustered at the closeness. Kirk didn’t say anything, he just pointed in a direction. I looked to see James, Lars and Cliff in a mini circle around the tour manager. They looked up to see Kirk and I staring at them, then turned, continuing their hushed huddle. 

“You’re a part of the band, why don’t you go find out.” I suggested. 

“Nah, they’ll say something soon enough.” Kirk said and rested his chin on my shoulder. 

This wasn’t the first time, but for some reason the butterflies in my tummy were flapping away. 

“Okay, room assignments.” The tour manager announced to the crew. He started listing off two people and giving them a room key. I listened intently, I would probably be with one of the roadies like normal.

“Kirk, and Y/N.” He said. 

My eyes were the size of the moon. I was frozen in place. Kirk went and grabbed our key. 

“Are you okay sharing a room with me?” He asked. 

“Yeah, but like that must be a mistake, you always share with one of the guys, the rest of the crew share amongst each other. Are you okay sharing a room with me?” I couldn’t stop the word vomit. Kirk chuckled. 

“I am completely fine sharing a room. It’ll be fun.” He gave a small wink, “Come on let's go.” He said and grabbed his luggage. I grabbed mine and followed him.

I accepted the fact I would be sharing a room with Kirk. I could live with that, we’d be on separate beds so it would be fine. When we entered the room my eyes widened seeing only one queen sized bed. You’ve gotta be kidding me. My heart was hammering quite hard. 

“You can take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch.” I offered, setting my stuff by the couch. 

“Why?” Kirk asked, setting his things down as well. 

“Because you’re a rockstar and I’m the photographer.” I answered with a shrug. 

“What kind of logic is that?” Kirk asked with a laugh. 

“You need a good restful sleep. Your body needs a nice comfy bed. I don’t.” I replied. 

“I don’t know, I've seen you in some precarious positions in your line of work.” He said, folding his arms. 

“Anything for the perfect shot.” I grinned. 

“We can share the bed, I promise I won't bite.” He said, “unless you want me to then I definitely can.” He added with a wink. My cheeks flared. 

“Okay, we can share.” I replied and began rummaging through my things. 

Kirk laid on the bed while I found my things to take a shower. There was tension in the room. The same one that had been growing throughout this tour. 

“Do you need to use the restroom? I’m gonna shower.” I asked Kirk. He looked up from his comic. 

“Nah. Might join you though.” He added with a wink. 

“You’re welcome to.” The words fell from my lips before I could process what I had said. Kirk’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Erm or not, up to you.” I practically squealed as I entered the bathroom and shut it. My heart hammered in my chest. Shaking it off I stripped and got into the shower turning it on steaming hot. I stood under the stream reflecting on what I had said. I probably crossed a line. I should see if I can switch rooms with someone so Kirk doesn’t feel uncomfortable. 

My thoughts were interrupted as the bathroom door opened and shut softly. I could hear the rustle of clothes as Kirk stripped. He parted the shower curtain stepping in behind me. 

“If you want me to leave, say so.” Kirk whispered huskily. 

“I want you to say.” I whispered, releasing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Kirk’s hands came to rest on my shoulder and began trailing down my body. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my shoulder, then bit down. I moaned as his hands found their way to the front of my body bringing me flush against him. He squeezed a breast in one as he found my clit with the other. He pulled away and turned me around, he kissed me hard. I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around him. He leaned me against the wall then pulled away. He trailed sloppy kisses down my body until he knelt before me. 

“Spread your legs, baby.” He said tapping my legs. I spread them. He kissed my pussy before he started eating me like it was his last meal. I gasped and fisted his hair. 

“Oh god. Kirk.” I moaned, “Feels s’good.” He hummed against me before sliding two fingers inside of me. I came with a cry, it felt so damn good. He turned the shower off and helped me out. He took a towel and dried me off a little before drying himself off. He led me to the bed and laid me down. He pinned me to the bed as he kissed me deeply. I let my hands wander until I found his cock giving it a firm squeeze.

“Oh fuck.” Kirk groaned against my lips. He spread my legs and entered me. “What a perfect pussy, squeezing me so tight.” He groaned as he pushed in until bottomed out. He slowly pulled his hips back and began fucking me hard. I screamed as I clung to him. My nails are digging into his back. He bit down on my shoulder, then licked the imprints his teeth had left. He used one of his hands to rub my clit.

“Are you gonna come for me again?” He asked as he continued to rut into me mercilessly. 

“Yes, oh, fuck, Kirk. Yes!” I screamed, coming soon after. 

“Good girl.” He praised me. He pulled out and came on my stomach. He laid next to me as we caught our breaths. 

“Let’s shower, this time we’ll actually wash up.” Kirk said with a goofy smile. 

“Sounds good to me.” I smiled back. 

I’m grateful the other’s conspired to get Kirk and I together.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[the-authoress-writes]

If You Please

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Lawyer!reader

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge

Synopsis: It’s not everyday that one’s best friend gets married, it’s not everyday that one is asked to be said friend’s Maid of Honor, and it’s certainly not everyday one meets a gorgeous, blond naval aviator.

Much less that one gets to dance the night away with the aforementioned naval aviator.

Warnings: Nothing, really, just a prerequisite creepy cousin, and a little teensy bit of cursing, but other than that, I don’t think there’s anything else.

Author’s Note: This is my first fic written for a fic challenge, and I am so grateful to @roosterforme for organizing this, and for allowing me to use one of my favorite 80s songs—Alannah Myles’ “Black Velvet”, as well as to @bradshawsbaby, who made the absolutely gorgeous moodboard for this fic.

You are both incredible, lovely people, and amazing writers!!

Everyone should go check out their stories—go, seriously.

I’ve made liberal use of lines from the song in this fic, but it’s just so absurdly appropriate for Jake that I didn’t even really feel that bad.

It’s also my first time writing Jake, so I’m not exactly sure I did him justice, but I’m looking forward to seeing what everyone thinks!

One down, one to go!!

And so, here we go!!!

She looked at her best friend dancing with her new husband, a smile on her lips.

She couldn’t be happier for her best friend, Cristina Nievara, formerly Cristina Machado.

The wedding was perfect, and went off without a hitch, and now, as the Maid of Honor, she could now relax—the hard part was over.

She sighed, sipping from her glass of rosé, rolling her neck from side to side.

At that moment, as if the very air shifted around her, or some preternatural sense alerted her, she became aware of a masculine presence behind her.

“Everyone’s dancing.”

At the smooth Texan drawl, a smile involuntarily split her lips. “That they are.”

“Everyone but you, Counselor.”

She angled her head to look into the emerald eyes of Jake Seresin. “Neither are you.”

“Hmm—little old me, well, I’m just waiting for the right partner.”

Her mouth ran a little dry, and she sipped from her glass again, trying to keep her composure. “And who would the right partner be?”

He hummed lightly, “I have an idea; she’d be kind, gentle—sweet, even—but opinionated when she needs to be, absurdly competent, insanely beautiful, and incredibly sexy.”

She hissed a breath between her teeth. “That’s quite the criteria.

Not sure you’ll be able to find a girl like that.”

“Well, I’m thinking I’m looking right at her.”

She couldn’t help it, her head whipped around to face him, so fast she worried she got whiplash, for her to find that his gaze was fixed intently and intensely on her.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she swallowed reflexively. “You sure you’re looking right?”

Jake made a show of looking at her up and down, his gaze somehow respectful despite the intensity she could see in his eyes. “I know I’m looking right.

Would you like to dance, Counselor?

Only if you please, though.”

She huffed a chuckle, shaking her head. “Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?”

And she set her glass down, before placing her hand into his outstretched one.

As Jake led her to the dancefloor, she mentally looked back—a month ago, never in a million years did she imagine that she’d be dancing with this man.

One month earlier…

She had no idea how Cris had managed to rope her into this.

But that wasn’t completely the truth; actually, she did.

Her best friend, Cristina Machado, was getting married to her fiancé, Gabriel Nievara, in her and Gabriel’s hometown of New Orleans.

And of course, Cris had to have her best friend as her Maid of Honor.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Cris, on the contrary, she’d do anything for that woman, they were each others’ ride-or-die since college, but it was moments like this, where she was currently being hit on by Cris’ creepy cousin, Marco, that almost made her reconsider.

And this was only a family and friends get-together at the large Machado family home a month before the wedding.

Marco was going on and on about how much money he made as a real estate agent, and she had been trying to get out of this conversation repeatedly, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

If she had more energy, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him off, but she had just come from a too-long deposition (literally throwing her dress on after), and her attitude was habitually completely different from the shark she had to be as a lawyer and in courtrooms, like a coat she put on, as a way of keeping her work separate from her personal life.

At this point, she was debating on dissociating from exhaustion, or looking for a way out, any way out—she was even debating the merits of just running away, and locking herself in the bathroom, which was looking more and more appealing by the second—when a drawling voice proclaimed, “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

She turned and saw a vaguely familiar dark blond-haired man striding towards her, looking rather like something out of a grocery store romance novel, with his movie star-blinding smile, in a pair of dark jeans, and a thin jacket over a henley, Wayfarers tucked into the collar.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I—I just got caught up with Marco,” she beamed, relief coursing through her.

“Well, uh, Cris wants to talk to you, asked me to come get you,” he nodded.

She latched onto that like a drowning woman. “Oh, I better go then, Maid of Honor stuff, you know—it was a pleasure talking with you, Marco, hopefully I’ll see you around,” she said, all in one breath, as she backed away, before immediately turning to follow her savior.

She blew out a breath, running a hand through her hair. “So, Cris wanted to talk to me, right?”

He clicked his tongue, glancing back to Marco, now on the prowl for his next hapless victim, “Not really, I just saw you looking like you would rather the Good Lord struck you dead then and there rather than continue talking with Marco.

But then again, most people tend to look like that when they talk with him.

So I decided to rescue you.”

She blinked. “Oh—well—thank you so much for the assist.

That was pretty good back there.”

“Not a problem, I’m used to coming in clutch.

And I am very good,” he winked, which made her huff a laugh as she fought the urge to tug the collar of her dress—how did it seem to get two or three degrees warmer just then?

He continued, sticking out his hand, “I’m Jake, Jake Seresin.”

She reciprocated the gesture, telling him her name, to which Jake replied, “Mmm, pretty name for a pretty girl.”

She rolled her eyes, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Can’t help it if it’s true,” he smirked.

God, why was it so hot?

Even for New Orleans, November had absolutely no right being this hot.

“So, uh, how do you know Cris?” she blurted, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Through Javy,” Jake replied, referring to Cris’ older brother, “we—we’re both in the navy, but I’ve known the Machados for almost fifteen years,” he finished, almost bashfully.

At that moment, it clicked for her who Jake was; she’d seen him in the Machado Christmas photo for several years. “I know Javy’s a pilot, so, are you—”

“We prefer the term naval aviator—but yes, we both fly F-18s,” he finished, a somewhat smug and proud look on his face.

“Fighter jets, huh?

You any good?”

At this, he looked indignant. “‘Any good’?

I graduated number one in my TOPGUN class, you are looking at one of the best fighter pilots in this country.”

“Okay,” she nodded, a chuckle escaping her as she ducked her head, “my sincerest apologies.”

When she looked back up, she saw him turn to face the deck, rubbing the back of his neck, the stone on the ring on his right middle finger catching the light.

“Uh, apology accepted,” he murmured. “And er, Cris is up there on the deck if you wanted to talk to her anyway,” he gestured, turning to face her again.

Well, her romance novel moment was nice while it lasted.

“Ah, I know when I’m not wanted,” she nodded.

“No,” Jake literally yelped, garnering several glances, which made him rub the back of his neck again, “I mean, no, it’s, it’s not like that, I just thought that you might want to be around friends, not a random stranger.”

“Well, I’d hardly call you a random stranger—you did save me from Marco, so I’d say that at least puts you firmly in acquaintance territory,” she deadpanned.

An honest-to-God guffaw escaped him, and she couldn’t help but note the way it made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

When he got control of himself again, he breathed, “In that case, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Same here.”

Silence soon fell over them, but strangely, she didn’t feel it was in any way awkward—it felt almost easy, despite the inexplicable rising tension which she could feel beginning to draw tightly.

“Jerk!!!”

She whipped her head in the direction the call had come from, grinning when she saw the jumping figure of Cris, on the deck, as Jake said, who was waving her hand, beckoning her over.

“Bitch!!!” she eagerly called back, replying with the matching nickname she had for Cris, which the latter always joked Supernatural stole from them.

“Huh… so it is true, girls call each other that,” she heard, and she turned to see Jake watching her with a grin on his face.

“It’s a thing we have,” she brushed off, knowing that others might find that strange.

“Hey, no judgment here—I call my wingman Chicken or Big Dick.”

That actually made her splutter. “I’m going to need an explanation for those nicknames next time.”

He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite pin down. “‘Next time’, huh?

You uh, looking forward to a next time?”

“Yeah, if only to get an answer for why those nicknames for your wingman,” she breathed. “You’re going to be around—for the wedding, right?”

She tried not to sound too hopeful.

“I’m thinking I will be, and I think for the in between,” he stated, seriously.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“I’ll be seeing you,” and he warmly nodded in a way that made her oddly think that if he were wearing a Stetson, he’d be tipping it to her, before going off towards the grill which was currently being manned by Mr. Machado.

She exhaled sharply, then began to ascend the stairs to the top of the deck, where she was immediately intercepted by Cris.

“I see you met Jake,” Cris grinned.

“Yeah, I did, it’s nice to finally meet the odd man out on your guys’ Christmas card,” she breathed, trying to keep her tone light.

“Mm-hmm,” Cris replied, an odd glint in her eyes. “You two looked… cozy.”

“I—he saved me from Marco, and I was making conversation, you know, but he was nice; a little cocky, but nice,” she replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Uh-huh.”

That glint was unfortunately still present in Cris’ eyes, and she lightly shoved the other woman in the shoulder. “It’s not like that, you—you are just… projecting because you’re so stupid happy with Gabriel.

We literally had one conversation, for God’s sake.”

Her best friend poked her in the arm, “‘One conversation’ was how it started for me and Gabe.

And I’m not projecting, you and Jake looked very comfortable together.

And for another thing, you cannot tell me you did not notice how hot he is.”

“Cris!” she hissed, glancing around to see if Gabriel was around. “You are engaged!”

“I am an engaged woman, but I can admit when a man is hot as hell.

And Jake Seresin is hot as hell,” Cris stated, raising her eyebrows, looking expectantly at her.

At first, she just stared, not sure what Cris wanted from her, but when it clicked, she sighed, “Seriously?”

“Admit it.”

“I—” she pinched the bridge of her nose, “I—w—oh, fine.

Jake is hot.

Happy?”

“Very.”

And with a smile, Cris practically bounced over to the other side of the deck.

“Cris! Cris!” She hurried after her best friend, knowing the other woman was undoubtedly planning something. “What are you planning?” she called, soon catching up.

“Planning what?”

“My bestie here finally met Jake, Jav,” Cris beamed, turning to face her older brother.

“Ah, that’s good,” Javy nodded, before also catching the glint in his sister’s eyes. “Okay, glint, you have a glint, what happened?”

“I had one conversation with your friend, Javy, and Cris is blowing it all out of proportion,” she interrupted.

Unfortunately for her, Javy’s eyes lit up in what was practically a carbon copy of Cris’ expression. “Oh. Cozy?” he asked, addressing Cris.

“Very,” her best friend nodded.

“Huh.”

In what was an unnerving display of sibling synchronicity, they both looked at her with identical glints.

“No.

Absolutely not.

Whatever you two are planning, no.”

“What makes you think we’re planning anything?” Javy protested.

She offered them a raised eyebrow.

Javy sighed, “Cris wants you happy, I want my boy happy—you could be happy together!”

“No, I am not going to be matchmade at a wedding!

It’s a walking cliche!” she protested.

Cris and Javy looked at each other, some sort of understanding passing between them.

“Okay, fine, we won’t try to set you up with Jake,” Cris sighed.

“Thank you!”

That was a month ago, and well, if they weren’t going behind her back, and orchestrating things like puppetmasters, which was highly unlikely, she could only chalk the amount of times she’d been thrown together with Jake to fate.

She had been seated with him at every lunch and dinner they were both invited to, paired with him at every wedding-related event and activity, every friends and family outing.

And somehow, there was always one person extra in the outing, and somehow, Jake was always the one to drive her, and only her, in his rental.

If she were being honest with herself, she wasn’t going to complain, especially not when it led to easy conversations allowing her to see below the cockiness, to see and know Jake, and she definitely wasn’t going to complain when it came to the… very hands-on crash courses she received from him when it came to mini-golf and bowling.

She was only human, after all.

And now, after numerous dinners, wedding related events and activities, after getting to know and see him, she could honestly say that she was more than halfway in love with Jake Seresin.

But she was uncertain of where things stood with him.

Yes, he hadn’t looked once at the bridemaids and various women who’d been throwing themselves at him, but that wasn’t a guarantee of anything.

However, that didn’t stop her from taking pride in the somewhat dumbstruck, glazed way he looked at her as she stood there on the altar, his eyes only for her, even as Cris was walking in her very elegant and beautiful dress down the aisle of the church.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at her like that.

The next time their gazes met, Cris and Gabriel had just been pronounced husband and wife, Gabriel dramatically taking Cris in his arms and dipping her before kissing her, to whoops and cheers.

She couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted to Jake, only to find that he was already looking at her, and she swore that that was longing she could see in his piercing gaze, but she couldn’t completely determine the expression before she had to follow Cris and Gabriel out of the church, and from there, they hadn’t seen each other.

Until he asked her to dance.

Now, as they moved on the dancefloor, all she was aware of was him, the feeling of his arms around her, his eyes gazing into her very soul, making heat like fire dance along her spine—but it wasn’t like a wildfire, relentless and uncontrollable.

Rather, it was like a cozy fire on a cold day, one you wanted to just lie down in front of—getting closer and closer until the fire seeped into your veins, into the very marrow of your bones, into your very soul.

And wasn’t that more dangerous?

The filament of her mind that was still cognizant of things, dimly registered that Jake was leading her fluidly and elegantly across the floor.

“You’ve got moves, Seresin,” she said.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Enduring two years of cotillion and being pressganged into filling in for uneven numbers at Annapolis’ Ballroom Club will do that to a person.” He gracefully spun her before pulling her back into him. “You ain’t half-bad either, counselor,” he drawled in that slow, southern style.

“I too, bear the scars of cotillion,” she smiled.

That provoked a chuckle and a smile from Jake—and like it always did, that smile did its level best to bring her to her knees.

It wasn’t the obnoxious, shark-like grin he had when he was being annoying on purpose, nor the cutting, sarcastic one he used when he was knocking someone down a peg or two.

No.

This one, which she’d only seen directed at her, was like his whole soul was smiling, and it had an innocence about it, despite the fact that at first glance, this man seemed made for nothing but sin.

“Well, in that case, you’ve got very graceful and elegant scars.

And I must admit, I’ve never had such a beautiful woman dancing in my arms before.”

She couldn’t help but scoff and laugh incredulously.

“What?” Jake inclined his head.

“I don’t know if you’re bullshitting me or being honest with me, because I somehow can’t believe that I’m the most beautiful woman you, of all people, have danced with.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “What exactly do you mean?”

“You—you want me to spell it out?”

He hummed, “Let’s just say this witness would like a little leading here, counselor.”

She laughed, before sighing, “You, Jake Seresin, are… well—more than a little bit attractive, and I cannot believe that there wasn’t more than one pretty southern belle in your arms.”

He smirked wickedly, “You sayin’ I’m hot?”

Flustered, she exclaimed, “O—objection—hostile witness!”

“Overruled, witness will answer,” he easily parried.

“Th—that’s not your line.”

He playfully sniffed, “I’m still thinking I’d like an answer, there.”

“You’re killing me here,” she breathed, wanting to duck her head and hide, but in Jake’s arms, there wasn’t exactly any place to escape.

Jake leaned closer, pressing her against him, clouding her senses even more, as he ducked his head to murmur into her ear, his breath warm against her neck, “But you like it.”

She looked up at him, blindly following his lead, placing her trust in him to not let her fall flat on her face, and whispered, “You’re trouble, Jake Seresin.” She shook her head, picked up the frayed threads of her wit and courage, and plowed on. “Yes, I think you are more beautiful than any man has a right to be.

And not just because of the way you look.”

Jake, who had been wearing a somewhat smug expression during her declaration, froze at her last sentence. “That’s new.”

“What?”

“Someone seeing more than a pretty face here,” he replied incredulously.

“I’d kind of have to be blind to not see it, but, I’ve seen what you’ve shown me—what you’ve let me see, and while I won’t presume to completely know you already, I… I like what I see; in every way.”

Some sort of emotion broke in his eyes, something the shadowed dancefloor didn’t really allow her to see clearly, but he murmured, “Dance with me?”

“We already are,” she smiled gently.

“I mean…” he strangely foundered, before continuing, “may I fill your dance card, counselor?”

Teenage her wouldn’t believe what was happening. “Won’t it be boring, dancing with me all night long?”

“Don’t care.

May I?

Only if you please.”

They danced through a more brightly lit area, and she saw the honesty in his piercing sea foam eyes.

In that moment, something told her that if she said no, she’d regret it for the rest of her life, leaving her longing for one more dance. “Well, looks like I’m yours for the night.”

Jake blinked, a rough chuckle escaping his mouth. “You are, huh?”

“Not—not like that—I—” she stammered.

He laughed this time, full and loud, “Relax, counselor, I don’t make it a habit of taking what I’m not given.

I was raised a good Christian boy, after all.”

“Didn’t even know the word good was in your vocabulary,” she breathlessly replied.

“Oh, don’t you remember, counselor,” he leaned in, voice dipping low, making everything fade into the background, “I am good—I’m very good.”

Her breath hitched, and he swept her across the floor, the two of them dancing the night away.

An hour and a half later, the night was wrapping up, and it was time to send the new Mr. and Mrs. Nievara to their honeymoon suite in the hotel upstairs.

She and Jake promptly got separated, eventually finding herself in the press of women lined up for the bouquet toss.

She personally disliked it because it baffled her how a literal bunch of flowers could turn a group of women into feral cats.

So, she was determined not to reach for it, no matter what.

Cris walked to the center of the dancefloor, and counted down. “Three, two, one!!”

In the space between one blink and the next, a massive bouquet of red roses was in her arms, and she couldn’t help but gawk.

Most of the women cheered as they dispersed—though some sent her dirty looks—while Cris approached her, beaming from ear to ear. “Thank you so much, Jerk, I don’t know how I would have been able to make it through without you.”

She clasped Cris’ arms, “It was my pleasure, Bitch.

Now you go get some rest with that husband of yours—” she paused, considering, before finishing with a wink, “or not.”

Cris just laughed, “You too—don’t think that I didn’t notice who you danced with—or rather, who you danced the night away with.”

She scoffed, but Cris whispered, “You do know the tradition behind the bouquet toss, right?”

“Cris—”

“I’m not saying you’re going to be walking down the aisle with him any time soon, but what I am saying, is let things play out, you never know.”

She stared at Cris’ earnest face for a beat, before slapping her lightly on the arm. “You’re so in love, it’s fried your brain.”

“I’m thinking yours is too.

Think about it.”

And with a final hug, all the guests cheered as Gabriel carried Cris out of the ballroom.

Soon after, she was hanging around Candice-Marie, the wedding planner, trying to help in any way she could, but the kindly older woman, with whom she’d been working closely leading up to the wedding, shooed her off, saying, “You go on now, you’ve done enough, sweetheart.

I can handle this.

You go enjoy the rest of your night with your handsome gentleman,” she winked.

She didn’t even have time to reply, or to be shocked, before she was swiftly left alone in the middle of the dancefloor.

She turned, blinking, seeing Jake slowly walking onto the dancefloor to stand before her. “So… looks like it’s just you and me, counselor.”

“Certainly looks that way, Lieutenant.”

He mock-winced. “What happened to ‘Jake’, I thought we were getting along so well.”

She couldn’t help her laugh. “I’m sorry—Jake.”

He fleetingly grinned, before turning serious. “So…”

“So… no plans for a… wild night with Javy?

Night’s still young… ish.”

“He can survive without me.

On the ground, at least,” he teased, inclining his head. “So it looks like my dance card’s empty.

I’m all yours.”

“Oh, are you?” she said, poorly concealing her laughter, at the way the tables had turned from earlier.

He looked at her, wondering what was funny, and she got to see his lightbulb moment. “I—I did not mean it that—I mean—unless—I—I mean—I’m—I’m just going to shut up, now,” he lamely finished.

“That was incredible and adorkable.”

“I’ve been called many things in my life, but never adorkable.”

“First time for everything, I guess.” The moment hung for a beat, before she continued, “Well, you’re in for a pretty boring night, then, because I am exhausted, and I am going to go up to my hotel room,” she sighed.

A frown creased his brow. “You live in New Orleans, and yet you rented a hotel room.”

“I am what, again?”

Jake clicked his tongue, an expression like he was berating himself on his face. “Exhausted.”

It was late, she’d had a couple of drinks (though that excuse was wearing a little thin, given that she’d drank them hours ago), so she allowed herself to be a little silly, and she whipped out double finger guns. “Star witness, here.

But… you can walk me to my room.”

His eyes lit up, and he extended his elbow in the old-fashioned way. “Lead the way, madam.”

They slowly walked out of the ballroom, moving towards the elevator bank.

It was a decent walk, and it was done in a comfortable silence, during which she narrowly kept herself from leaning her head against his arm.

When they arrived at the elevator bank, there was still a decent crowd of people from the wedding stood there, which made her groan. “This is going to take forever.”

“If you’re up for more of a walk, there’s another elevator bank up on the mezzanine,” Jake offered.

A despairing look up at him. “Stairs?”

“Stairs.

But you’ll be in your room sooner.”

She deliberated. “Fuck it—stairs.”

This time, she followed him up the grand oak staircase, wincing with each step—no matter how broken in a pair of heels were, at a certain point, they all became instruments of torture.

At the top of the stairs, she saw that there was blessedly, no one around, but the thought of walking one more step in her heels was a bridge too far, and she tugged Jake towards the mezzanine railing. “Wait, let me take these off.”

Keeping one hand on the wood rail, she eased the strap of her heel out of the buckle, when she overbalanced, and lurched forward.

Strong hands caught her to a firm chest, and she looked up into his verdant eyes, her whole being caught.

“God, but I really want to kiss you right now, counselor,” he rasped, his voice, pure tone draped in yearning.

“Technically, I don’t kiss on the first date,” she instinctively spoke, and she could see his gaze shutter as he began to loosen his grip slightly, when she drew him even closer, pulling him in by fisting her hand in the lapel of his black velvet suit jacket. “But… technically… we’ve already had so many first dates, haven’t we?”

It took him a moment, but she could literally see the shutters on his gaze being flung open, being replaced by a mischievous sparkle. “We have, haven’t we.”

“Hard to see a reason why you shouldn’t kiss me, in that case.”

He smiled, the innocence of his little boy’s smile contrasting with the smoldering desire in his viridian eyes.

The next thing she knew, Jake’s lips were on hers, and he was kissing her.

In a split second, the fire that had warmed her very soul, now rushed through her blood, consuming everything that wasn’t Jake Seresin, until the only coherent thought was of him.

If not for his arms around her, the deep, searching caress of his mouth on hers was enough to bring her to her knees then and there, his kiss a new religion.

The kiss lasted a moment, it lasted eternity, but she knew that from that point on, she’d never have enough—he’d always leave her longing for more.

The breath which so rudely surged into her lungs seemed like poor recompense for his kiss.

Jake looked about as wrecked as she felt, his lashes fluttering over half-lidded eyes, his forehead leant against hers. “An absolutely stunning, whip-smart woman who sees me and likes it, with a gorgeous smile and laugh—damn, I think I’ve found the reason my dance card’s going to be full for the foreseeable future,” he murmured.

A sound between a chuckle and a gasp of air slipped from her lips as a thrill raced through her.

“Only if you please though,” he added, a teasing note in his voice.

“I very much please,” she replied.

“Yeah?”

God, his smile—screw halfway in love—her heart was his through and through.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Now kiss me again.”

Jake chuckled, “Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?”

He kissed her again, and in that kiss, forever laid at her feet, spread out before her.

What does it say about me that I know exactly what model Ray-Bans Glen used in TG:M?

😂

I did totally take the the “Jerk. Bitch.” interaction from Supernatural.

If you look at the nametags in TG86, below the names, you’ll see “TOPGUN 1”, so I’m going to assume there’s more than one TOPGUN class/session in a year, at least in the TG/TG:M universe.

There’s a headcanon going around that Jake and Javy were either tied, or one and two respectively, in their TOPGUN class, so I went with that.

(I headcanon that Bradley and Natasha were in the same TOPGUN class, and Natasha was number one, while Bradley was number two.)

I vacillate between Old Money!Jake and Working/Middle Class!Jake on a fairly regular basis, but for the purposes of this story, I went with Old Money!Jake.

Apparently, cotillion is still alive and well in Texas, so Jake having that experience is highly plausible.

USNA does have a Ballroom Club, although, like with most things in fanfiction, I might be taking liberties with the time of its establishment, because I don’t know when that got started.

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