#whatever flights her fancy for the day

[hypewinter]

After Danny exposed Vlad and his corrupt dealings, the older halfa got the last laugh by getting his blacklists from all engineering jobs. Desperate for a job Danny ends up applying for a personal assistant position and he actually gets it. It only takes him a week to see how detached Bruce Wayne is from his own company. AND he has his 16 year old son running it as CEO!? No way is he letting that slide.

[deva-arts]

☆ Nathaniel Wilson ☆

I Really Like Nathaniel because the guy embodies Hope and Positivity without forcing it down the gullets of everyone around him.

He looks like he'd be a pleasant individual to actually be around at 7 am. Even before his coffee. [ Sera should be too, she doesn't seem like an unbearable person to be around in La Matinée ( the Morning ) . But still, she is alot grumpier than her other half. ]

With that said. Insert Happy music here. Nujabes or Smth.

Submitted by @mettamorphoses!

Love the way you drew Nate here! such a clean style and serious face :> He's my favorite little quadfocal guy... friendly, polite, and a good conversationalist! You're absolutely right, he's one of the easiest people to get along with. It's almost like he knows exactly what to say to people.

Sera isn't grumpy so much as she is disinterested and dismissive. She heads to work without bothering to make small talk besides a basic "Hello." if she passes you by. Not the worst outcome, really, if silence doesn't bother you.

[sparklehoard]

I still dislike airbnb because I thimk it buys up small homes people could buy but just allows more landlords to hold onto homes......but......those whole houses you can book with big soaking tubs....😥😥😥

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: college kicks ass, but I kick harder! a lil shorty smut for y'all 💗 happy holidays loves! felt cute, might delete later 🙈

Bunny & Her Man. | Aaron Pierre.

Gentleman!Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex (f receiving) fingering, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Reader referred to affectionately as Bunny.

Summary: in which Terry is head over hills for his girl, and shows it.

it's a new day,

no time to play, we're in love.

Bunny loved her man, and the best part about it was, her man loved her even more.

Terry literally adored Bunny, anything she wanted she got, he definitely made it his mission to be the sole provider in their relationship. He took immense pride in Bunny's degrees, her smarts matching how extremely stunning she was on the outside. And for as long as she managed to take care of herself before he came along, putting her degrees to good use—he halted that when he arrived, letting her know that if he allowed her to still provide for herself, he was no use to her around. So she let him. And she loved it.

Bunny loved how much her man splurged on her, she'd become a bit of brat by now. Receiving huge bouquets of her favorite yellow roses every Sunday, date nights were a frequent for the duo, and she was no stranger to designer bags and shoes. Whatever tickled her fancy.

So that's why when she texted Terry the day prior, that she was oh so tired of fucking him in the states, he replied twenty minutes later with a screenshot of a red eye flight to Grace Bay scheduled the next morning.

And he wasted no time in rectifying her complaint, not even allowing her the time to be rightfully jet-lagged after the flight, the second they entered their hotel room Terry was feral.

Bunny huffed, her thighs pushed rigidly against her chest, Terry's big hands squeezing and kneading the meaty flesh there as his lips sucked on her overly sensitive clit— the sucks, loud, lewd and sloppy. His stormy eyes trained on her facial expressions for his own validation, only feeling satisfied when he seen her big brown eyes roll into the back of her head for the third time that afternoon.

"Ssshitttt!" Bunny whimpered, her eyes low and dazed as she looked down at her man in between her legs, his tongue making dizzying, swirling circles around her clit, her body slightly jerking and trembling. "I'm bout to cum again, baby!"

"Mm-mm," Terry hummed in disapproval, lips suctioning around her clit briefly before pulling back with a loud pop. His pointer and middle finger replacing his soft lips, as his calloused fingers rubbed slow, agonizing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching her arousal leak out of her earnestly before averting his sole attention on Bunny's pretty face. "You asked daddy to cum, or you thinkin' for yourself again? Hm?" He muttered, voice dangerously low.

"What I tell you bout thinkin' when I'm fuckin' you?" He hummed, using the dripping arousal to slowly slip his two fingers inside of her sopping pussy, gummy, wet walls squeezing around his fingers as a choked out gasp slipped past her already parted lips.

Her body was on fire, and Terry's voice was not helping. Everything felt too tight, or too good, or too sensitive. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her heavy, labored breathing. "Not thinkin' daddy," she slurred through a moan, vision blurring as he continued to pump his curled digits into her, hitting that sweet spot he knew so well inside of her. Her own hips absentmindedly bucking themselves unto his fingers, matching his quick hard thrusts. "Need to cum for you so bad, daddy, please!" She squeaked out, voice so small beneath the squishy sounds of her pussy being dug out on his fingers.

"Look at you, fuckin' yourself on my fingers," Terry tsk'd ignoring her plea to cum as he kept driving his fingers in and out of her, denying her the pleasure of cumming, but still wanting to make her, "pussy gushin' and talkin' all on my fuckin' fingers. Shit so fuckin sexy."

"Oh my god," Bunny huffed through a drawn out moan, her pussy clenching around his fingers at his lewd words, legs trembling beneath his hold, her own hands letting go of the vice grip she held on the hotel sheets, flinging them to his impending wrist, she didn't know how much longer she could continue holding on.

"Feel that pussy clenchin', you gon cum on daddy fingers without his permission?" He asked tauntingly, still giving her no leads on an answer yet. "You better not fuckin' cum, bitch. Hold that shit," he firmly stated, his eyes never leaving her face as he watched her lips fall into that familiar frown, her eyes rolling back once again, and her body going limp. "Hold that shit," he reiterated more firmly, slipping his fingers out of her and landing one single slap against her messy, sloppied pussy.

And that one slap relieved the heavy pressure in her stomach. Bunny squealed as her juices spurted out of her, soaking her thighs, and the sheets under ass.

Terry tsk'd, a surge of pride surging through him at how good he could make Bunny feel. What he could do to her just with his mouth and fingers. So Bunny got whatever she wanted from him, and he got whatever he wanted from Bunny. Even exchange.

"And just when I was about fuck you so good," he taunted leaning down to softly peck Bunny on the lips, her lazy whine a reply of protest, "couldn't hold it no more mama?"

Bunny shook her head slowly, jerking once more when she felt Terry's fingers softly skating up and down her sensitive, heated core. "That's too bad baby, cause now we gotta start all over. Daddy gotta make sure you understand the rules." He stated smugly, free hand slapping against her cheek firmly.

hope you enjoyed bunny 🙈. next fic will have a tag list & my masterlist is in the making!

[natalievoncatte]

1. Leaves

Lena was, in all honesty, having the time of her life. Since they’d arrived here, she had finally relaxed. Really relaxed. Lex was gone. Capital-G Gone. The last of Cadmus had been mopped up. The Conpany was no longer a problem- L-Corp was being sold off, from entire divisions down to sales of old office chairs. The Estate and nine-tenths of the family holdings were all being sold off, and the money quietly funneled into a holding company. Sam Arias would manage Lena’s wealth.

Lena had nothing to do anymore, and it was glorious. She’d done what she’d never done in her entire life: rest. She ate when was hungry, slept when she was tired. She stayed up late finishing a thriller novel she’d grabbed off one of Kara’s tables and slept it off the following day. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, so one day she said, “Let’s go watch the leaves change.”

“Not much of that in National City,” Kara had said, not looking up from her laptop.

Lena was flipping channels when she made the suggestion, another pedestrian activity that had been too far beneath her to ever indulge during her CEO days.

“I’m serious,” said Lena. “I’ll rent us a cabin, book a flight, and we’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Vermont, or maybe New Hampshire.”

Kara looked up. “I could just fly us.”

“Short distances only,” said Lena.

Kara weighed it for a moment. She looked at Lena for a drawn out instant, eyes darting this way and that. Lena knew she had a deadline; she had become privy to the details of Kara’s life ever since she started couch surfing at Kara’s place after dumping her chic penthouse on some petroleum heir from the Emirates.

She had been “crashing” at Kara’s place for three months and had her own key, but they weren’t talking about it. Lena had remained on the couch, falling asleep to YouTube videos of molten lava and cat purring sounds, while Kara puttered around the house.

There were moments of tension. Pauses during shared meals. Moments when they pressed closed on sofa, times when Kara got up to go to bed and Lena felt this yearning to follow that she never quite obeyed.

Kara was thinking. Hard.

“Rent a cabin?”

“Yeah, someplace remote. So you can take a break. You’ve been working harder than ever, Darling. It almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Kara swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll fly. The regular way.”

They did, arriving in Maine less than a day later. Lena rented a Land Rover (because they were on an Adventure) and did all the driving, three hours from the airport to the cabin.

Kara rode in silence, though Lena heard her gasp.

The trees were beautiful. They were alive with color, as if an impressionist master had made the world a canvas and run riot. It was more than a mass of reds and yellows and oranges. It was astonishing.

It was dark when they arrived at the cabin. Lena had chosen one with two bedrooms, though she hesitated when she did. It had a full kitchen with a gas stove and all the amenities but also a fire pit and picnic table and gazebo, and overlooked a private swath of a small lake. It was like something out of a Bob Ross painting.

They were both tired from the flight, or at least Lena was, and turned in right away. When she rose the next day, she cheerily told her cabin-mate she was headed into town to get some supplies.

Kara went out to chop wood. Lena, of course, watched a few swings before leaving. Kara didn’t really need an axe but Lena didn’t care; she was preoccupied watching the muscles of Kara’s shoulders and back as she swung the splitting maul.

Lena got back before noon and carried the groceries inside, enough for her to use the fancy kitchen to prepare a mighty feast for her companion.

She didn’t hear the sobs until she had most of it put away. Lena bolted to the back door and stopped.

Kara was sitting on the picnic table, feet resting on the long board that acted as a seat. She was holding a single golden leaf on her hand, studying it and sobbing softly to herself.

“Kara?”

She looked up, soft blue eyes wet with tears. Lena felt a wave of grief but also panic, rushing to the table.

“Kara, what’s wrong?”

“I,” Kara started. “Lena, I’m scared.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Why?”

Kara looked at the leaf. “Another year past. The leaves turn colors and fall, school starts, things change.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Alex is married now. They’ve got a kid to raise. Nia and Brainy will probably get married soon. We hadn’t had a game night in two months.”

Lena swallowed. Kara was right. When Lena had first joined, then rejoined, this wonderful found family had been aggressively social, and now they forgot to text as often as not. They all spent more time at home or at their real jobs than at the Tower. The world had just started moving on. Kara didn’t even wear the cape every day anymore.

“I know,” said Lena, her voice thick. “But you’ve got me.”

Lena felt her pulse start to race. Kara had been so distant, she couldn’t help wonder if she was enough. If boring, retired Lena wasn’t enough. Oh God, what if Kara was thinking about going to Argo? Or the future?

“Not forever,” said Kara, her voice cracking like glass. She let the leaf drop from her fingers. “Eventually you’ll go. All of you. Brainy, Nia, Alex, Clark if he doesn’t come back from Argo. You.”

“Oh,” Lena said, softly. “Oh, Kara.”

“I think I might be immortal,” Kara whispered. “I don’t feel any aches or pains. Nothing about me changes. I don’t forget things like people do. My body just keeps repairing itself and it never makes any mistakes. What if I’m just like this forever? Or even a thousand years? What if everyone is gone and their kids are gone and no one knows who I am anymore?!” she was frantic now, the words coming too fast.

Lena reached out, tentatively. She put her hands on Kara’s shoulders and pulled herself in, wrapping her best friend in a hug.

Birds chirped, the waters of the lake made soft glug-glugs, and all around them was the soft tapping sound of the leaves, already letting go.

“I won’t leave you,” Lena whispered. “Kara, I won’t. If I have to live forever I will. I’ll find a way. Tech, magic, fifth dimensional imps. I’ll find a way.”

Kara sighed, arms firmly around her.

“Do you need space?” Lena asked. “I could leave you alone for a bit. Look for a place when we get back, so I’m not on the couch all the time.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Kara blurted, almost cutting her off. “I know I’ve been distant, it’s just… I keep looking at you and thinking about all the time I’ve lost and all the mistakes I’ve made and how I’ll regret it forever. We have so little time and I’m so scared I’ll lose you.”

Lena pulled back to look at her. “We have a long time to make more memories. As many as we can.”

“I’ll lose you too,” said Kara. “I know you want more. A family, a partner. You’ll start to have less time for me. You’ll all just fall away and I’ll be stuck here alone.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara started to pull away. Lena stopped her with a tug on her arms. It stunned her, sometimes, how she could overpower a god with her tiny human hands. How she could stun the other whirlwind or a touch.

“Kara,” said Lena. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“Me?” Kara squeaked.

Lena cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you at the wedding. I mean, I didn’t dress like that and go stag for the hell of it. I just lost my nerve and you seemed so overwhelmed.”

Kara blinked a few times.

“You want me?” said Kara.

Lena felt a cold rush of terror. She’d just blurted it out, artlessly, unplanned.

“Like want me want me? Like kissing want me?”

Lena licked her lips. “Yes. I’d like to kiss you right now, if you let me.”

Kara settled back into the table, leaning forward. Lena leaned in, pushing her back slightly, moving her hands from shoulders to hips, scoring the way Kara tensed and trembled. She was hardly inexperienced, Lena knew, but something about this felt like a first kiss, even for her. It tasted like one, too, down to the quivery way their lips met.

Kissing quickly became something more. Lena didn’t know if she was pulling or Kara pushing. It didn’t much matter; the path led to the bed in Kara’s room, marked by a trail of shed clothing.

Years of anticipation overwhelmed them both; dinner was forgotten, and they didn’t even emerge until the next day.

It was in the morning sun, the light turning Kara’s skin gold, that Lena saw it. Twisted within one of the curling locks of hair, splayed around Kara’s head on the pillow, was a faintly visible thread of purest silver, chased through the gold like an engraver’s masterpiece. Lena couldn’t help but twirl the errant strands around her finger.

As Kara slept, she looked up through the window and watched the wind as it caressed the leaves.

[starkwlkr]

celebrity skin | cillian murphy

barbenheimer series

‘Is Hollywood done with Y/n?’

‘Y/n L/n, the girl failure’

That’s what the articles published on their front page. Recently, Y/n had refused to do a big budget film for a legendary director claiming that she wanted to take a break from the world of acting. Her and Cillian were looking to buy a house in Ireland so she was busy looking at listings and calling multiple real estate agents.

The director ended up calling her a bitch over the phone. He had insulted her over and over, stating that she would regret her decision.

After a source told multiple magazines about the situation only the ‘source’ didn’t tell the full story, the media started calling her annoying, selfish, dumb blonde, and the one that stuck the most, a bitch.

Cillian was not having it. Instead of going to his audition for a new series, he stayed home with her. He didn’t want her to be alone, especially at a time where the media and ‘fans’ were turning their backs on her.

“You don’t have to stay with me.” Y/n sighed as she snuggled up to Cillian. They were currently in London since Cillian had gotten an audition for a BBC series. He called the casting director and canceled, which made Y/n mad. Why wouldn’t she be? He had talked about the audition for months and now he canceled?!

“I want to.” He replied, giving her a kiss to the side of her head. “You haven’t eaten anything. I can make you pancakes, I know how much you love breakfast for dinner.”

“I’ll eat in a bit. I think I want to take a nap.” She said.

Cillian had noticed how she’s been taking naps all week. Sometimes she wouldn’t even come out of her room and all she ate was granola bars and orange juice.

“I want you to know that I’m with you every step of the way. Those articles? They’re wrong. Fuck those articles. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.” Cillian admitted.

Y/n could feel a tear roll down her cheek. Sometimes all she wanted to do was run away with Cillian to whatever country and live their lives in a nice house.

“You’re a jerk, you know that. . I wasn’t planning on crying today. But I love you too.” Y/n laughed as Cillian pulled her in for a kiss. “I wish we could leave this place and go to one of those cottage houses in the countryside. That’s always been a dream of mine.”

“That sounds nice. Why don’t you pack your bag and I’ll buy our tickets and we can leave tomorrow.” Cillian said.

“What?” Y/n asked confused.

“I saw you looking at this cottage the other day on your laptop. I bought it two days ago and I payed my mum to buy us some nice furniture and food so by the time we get there it’ll be okay for us to stay there for a while. So go pack and I’ll arrange our flight. You and I are leaving all this behind for the next few days. No work, no fancy dresses or premieres to attend. Just us and our new home.” He explained.

“You’re full of surprises, my love.”

TIME SKIP

OCTOBER

It had been a few months since Y/n and Cillian left their life in London and stayed in their new cottage in the countryside. She loved it there. No paparazzi or pushy fans to bother her or Cillian. It was paradise for her. Eventually the casting director for Peaky Blinders offered the role of Tommy Shelby to Cillian since last time Cillian was going to audition he had called to cancel. The casting director desperately wanted him to portray the protagonist of the new BBC series.

Y/n encouraged Cillian to take the role. She was fine with staying in their cottage after all she had made new friends with the women that lived nearby. So Cillian flew back to London to film and Y/n stayed behind. She had picked up new hobbies, fixed some stuff that needed fixing like the guest room and even started working on her garden.

Soon, Cillian had finished filming and made it back home to Y/n just in time for her birthday. Even though it was her day, Y/n insisted on making dinner herself. She decided to cook a comfort food of hers, chicken alfredo.

Cillian watched as she set a plate full of pasta and chicken in front of him then placed hers on her placemat. “I should be cooking for you.” Cillian said, grabbing his fork and beginning to eat.

“If the birthday girl wants to cook then let her.” Y/n stated then began to eat. “How was filming? I saw some pictures on twitter of you on set and I have mixed feelings about the haircut.”

“You don’t like it? Be honest. I don’t like it.” Cillian admitted.

“Well it took some time to get used to it, but I kind of like it now. I don’t know, you look hot either way.” Y/n smirked.

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank the hair department.”

Soon, both plates of food were forgotten as the two lovers made their way to their bedroom, pieces of clothing scattered around. It had been months and both Cillian and Y/n were counting down the days until they say each other again. Months without a single kiss or the feeling of skin on skin. What a way to end your birthday . . .

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[adrienneleclerc]

Meet the Family Part 2

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: after much discussion, Charles flies out Y/N’s parents to Monza so they can meet Charles’s mom before they decide on spending Christmas together in New York

Warning: the usual. IT IS EDITED, I MADE IT LONGER, starting from You

A/N: questions at the end of this imagine, I hope you like part 2 @ilovechickenwings

“You didn’t have to fly them out first class.” Y/N said in the car.

“They’re your parents, what kind of person would I be if I let them fly coach, knowing I can afford first class.” Charles said.

“True. I can’t believe you invited them to the Monza Grand Prix.” Y/N said.

“Well my family is also coming to this Grand Prix, I figured they could meet. Hopefully they get along so we can spend Christmas on New York.” Charles said. Charles parked the car and he did a lot better than he usually does. They got out of the car.

“Your parking is getting better, muñeco, I am so proud.” Y/N said. “What time does their flight land?”

“Um, it says at that it should have landed 10 minutes." Charles said checking the flight information. They walked into the airport, Charles signing whatever the fans give him, they made it to the gate and Y/N saw her parents.

"Mami, Papi, que gusto verlos. Como estuvo el vuelo?" Y/N asked her parents after hugging them.

"First class es tan fancy, no creo que puedo volver a volar en coach." Elena said breaking the hug with Y/N to turn to Charles and hugs him. "Charles, thank you so much for flying us out, I can't believe we are in Italy, I always wanted to come here." Elena gives Charles a kiss on the cheek before letting him go, Charles blushing a little and laughing.

"It was nothing, I really wanted you two to meet my mom and brothers." Charles said.

"Right, we need to see if we get along before deciding on spending holidays together. A ver Charles, what car did you decide to rent?" Enrique asked.

"Mm, a Mercedes Benz, plenty of space for your luggage. Lets go, I want to invite you guys to eat before heading to the hotel." Charles said, taking Elena's and Enrique's carry on bags, leaving the airport to go to his car.

“Are we meeting Pascale there?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, my mom texted me saying shes on her way to the restaurant so let’s go.” Charles said, putting the carry on bags in his trunk, helping Enrique put the big suitcase in the trunk too before closing it, everyone got in the car.

“Can’t wait to go sightseeing and shopping.” Elena said.

“Oh yes, Monza is beautiful. Tomorrow is media day for me so if you want, you could go sightseeing by yourselves.” Charles said.

“Yeah, that seems fine, will Y/N be with you during media day?” Enrique asked.

“Yes she will.” Charles said.

“Yeah, that seems okay.” Elena said. The rest of the ride to the restaurant was filled with Elena and Enrique talking about what they want to see. Charles made it to the restaurant (I google restaurants in Monza, did you know there is a Peruvian restaurant there? I am so happy about that) and Charles parked his car in the Vecchia Ostuni parking lot.

“Mira eso, Y/N didn’t have to park for you.” Elena teased. Charles looked at Y/N.

“You told them I can’t park?” Charles asked in a whiny voice.

“I didn't tell them anything, they probably saw me parking your car when we visited.” Y/N said.

“Fair enough.” Charles said. They walked made it to the restaurant entrance and saw Pascale. “Maman!” Charles exclaimed before hugging his mother.

“Pascale, it’s good to see you again.” Y/N said, hugging her. “So Pascale, these are my parents Elena and Enrique.

“Nice to mee you.” Pascale said, hugging Elena and Enrique. “Let’s go in, I am starving.” They entered the restaurant, Charles had a reservation for them and they were seated right away. “Elena, Enrique, Can i just say I love your daughter, she is such a sweetheart, perfect for my Charles, I love having her over whenever they’re in Monaco.”

“Oh thank you, we only found out about Charles recently when he came to visit us in New York, but he makes Y/N happy and that’s good enough for us. Plus the gifts, thank you again Charles, I take that bag everywhere.” Elena said.

“It was my pleasure.” Charles said.

You know how sometimes your parents will share stories from your childhood? That’s exactly what happened.

“When Y/N was younger, she would name any animal she saw, whether that is a stray cat in our neighborhood or a mouse caught in a trap.” Enrique said, the three parents laughing.

“She still does that! They were over and we have this garden (I’m making this up) and she found a caterpillar on a leaf, Y/N named it Heimlich.” Pascale said and Y/N covered her face from embarrassment, leaning against Charles.

“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, Mon ange, it’s very cute and endearing how you name random animals.” Charles kissed her forehead.

“I think she got that habit from Lilo and Stitch, she would watch that movie all the time.” Elena said.

“Oh Charles here was obsessed with the movie Cars, I sometimes think thats why he kept karting, to be like Lightning McQueen. I have seen so many posts on Instagram for the fans comparing him to Lightning McQueen.” Pascale said, now it’s Charles’s turn to be embarrassed, he was blushing slightly while Pascale showed Elena and Enrique some of the comparisons. “It doesn’t help that there’s a video of Charles saying ‘kachow’, you know.” Pascale said.

“Our little Disney fans, they’re perfect for each other.” Elena commented.

“They are, they seem so in love. When Charles was first calling me about her, he was so smitten, asking me for advice because he had no idea how to woo her since she’s American.” Pascale said, Y/N turned to Charles.

“I didn’t know that.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, it was actually the first time I got nervous talking to a girl. It’s not like I’ve seen you in Monaco before, you were completely new, you knew nothing about me, I wanted our first date to be perfect.” Charles said, playing with his rings. Y/N kissed his cheek.

“You’re so cute.” Y/N said. The parents kept talking amongst themselves. The check came, Charles paid, Pascale gave Elena her phone number and they started texting on WhatsApp. They said goodbye to each other, went to the parking lot and drove to the hotel they’re staying at.

Charles helped Elena and Enrique to their room, Y/N hugged them goodbye before going to her shared suite with Charles. After Charles helped them with the luggage, he went to his suite and found Y/N splayed across the bed.

“I am so tired.” Y/N said.

“Mon ange, we didn’t do anything.” Charles said.

“I know but we had to listen to our childhood stories.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, that’s true. But I’m glad our parents are getting along, I sense a New York Christmas in our future.” Charles said, getting on the bed and moving Y/N so her back is against his chest. Charles kissed her forehead.

“Same here.” Y/N said and she got a text notification from her mom, Y/N stifled a giggle,

“Whats so funny?” Charles asked.

“Is it true that when you were 4 you opened your closet every night to see if Sulley would be there?” Y/N asked.

“Ugh, maman.” Charles groaned and Y/N was laughing.

“That’s adorable.” Y/N said, kissing him until Charles realized something, holding her back from kissing him again.

“Wait, when we were in Spa, there was a stray dog, did you name him?” Charles asked.

“What? No.” Y/N said. Charles looked at her. “I named him Koda.” Y/N admitted. Charles kissed her.

“Adorable.” Charles said, Y/N pouted but Charles kissed her pout away. "You think we can go to Niso Fumagalli? Its your first time here, I want to do something romantic." Charles said, still kissing her. Y/N pretended to think.

"Would I have to change?" Y/N asked.

"Absolutely not, you look beautiful." Charles said. Y/N smiled.

"You're very sweet, guapo, I'll text my mom to tell her we're going out." Y/N said.

Charles and Y/N spent the rest of the day in the rose garden Niso Fumagalli and they took so many photos together, Charles will definitely post them later after they are editted to match his aesthetic.

The next day was Media Day, Y/N was in the Ferrari hospitality hanging with Rebecca while Charles was answering some questions.

"So Charles, we hear your American girlfriend is here, how is that going?" the interviewer asked.

"Very good, this is her first time coming to Monza, even though she is very new to the world of Formula 1, she is very excited to be here, I even flew her parents out." Charles said.

"Wow, what a considerate boyfriend you are, how are the future in-laws?" The interviewer asked.

"I like them, I really hope they like me as well, my mom loves my girlfriend so I am hoping to have the same connection with her parents." Charles responded sincerely. He thinks of himself as a very nice guy, even though Enrique has said himself that Charles seemed good for Y/N, he doesn't get the feeling that her parents consider him family yet.

"I'm sure you will, whats not to like, the grid loves you." The interviewer said and Charles laughed a little, messing with his shirt collar.

Charles then had another interviewer.

"Charles and Carlos, you two are going to answer whatever questions are written on the piece of paper you pick out of this hat." The interviewer said, Charles went first.

"Who was your celebrity crush when you were younger? Oh, that is such a good question, I'm trying to think, mm, oh, it was (a celebrity you share similar features with, for me it would be Selena Gomez cuz of the round face, dark hair and eyes) I was obsessed with her movies/tv show/music, watched every TV interview she did, my mom would call me every time she was on TV." Charles admitted, completely embarassed he just confessed that.

"Doesn't your girlfriend have the same color eyes, hair, and skin tone?" The interviewer.

"Lord Perceval, who knew you had a type." Carlos joked. "You totally manifested your girlfriend."

"I guess i did. Your turn, Carlos." Charles said.

After many interviews later, he went to the hospitality to find Y/N eating a snack.

"Baby! How were the interviews?" Y/N asked, hugged him, Charles hugged her back twice as hard.

"They were good, a little tiring. Want to go out to eat? There was this peruvian restaurant we could go to, I know you miss Latin food when you're in Europe with me." Charles said.

"Ooh yes, lomo saltado sounds so good right now. I love you so much." Y/N said, kissing him.

"You think your parents like me?" Charles asked.

"What kind of question is that? Of course they like you. Come on, lets get to your car." Y/N said. They were walking to the parking lot.

"Its just yesterday your mom mentioned that she only found out about me recently. She hasn't really complimented me except to tell me she loves her bag." Charles said.

"Well Charles, they don't really know you, it's kinda hard considering they live in New York." Y/N said.

"You're right, we should go to the hotel and pick up ypour parents so we could eat at the Peruvian restaurant." Charles said.

"Oh no need, they're here with Pascale." Y/N admitted.

"Mon coeur, you could have told me before we got into the parking lot." Charles said.

"I'll tell my mom where we are going and Pascale could join them at the restaurant, it will be like yesterday." Y/N said.

"Yeah, that sounds good, you are so smart." Charles said, kissing her forehead.

"Thank you, lets good, I just texted my mom." Y/N said, They get to the car and drove to the restaurant. Pascale showed up with Elena and Enrique a few moments later.

"Why are we here?" Enrique asked.

"Oh, whenever we are travlling for my races, Y/N will miss the latin food that she is used to cooking herself. She gets homesick, latin food helps her, and that is why we are at a peruvian restaurant." Charles said, with his arm around Y/N. Enrique hums approvingly before they entered the restaurant.

During lunch/dinner, Charles did or said little things that won him brownie points with his future in-laws. He knows it might be too soon, but he feels as if Y/N is the one and he needs to know that her parents approved of him.

"Maman, Christmas is a few months away, I was wondering how would you feel about spending it in New York?" Charles asked.

"New York? What about your brother and Charlotte?" Pascale asked.

"They would come too! Imagine spending New Years in New York, watching the ball drop in person..." Charles started.

"Don't do that." Y/N and her parents said.

"It is going to be so crowded, you'll be freezing the entire time, you probably won't even get a good spot to watch the ball drop or the New Years performers." Elena said.

"But we could see the tree at the Rockefeller Center." Charles said, looking at Y/N to make sure that was a good plan and Y/N nodded.

"I wouldn't want to spend Christmas without my parents, but I know you wouldn't want to spend it without Charles either." Y/N said. Pascale doesn't look convinced.

"Pascale, you never travlled outside of Europe, it could be fun. Enrique and I obviously don't have a big house but you can stay in a hotel near us." Elena started.

"Alright, you convinced me, a New York Christmas it is. Would you spend your entire winter break in New York, Charles?" Pascale asked.

"Not the entire break, just 2 weeks." Charles said.

"Alright, sounds good. Let me call your brothers." Pascale said, standing up from the table.

"Tengo que ir al baño, acompáñame, Y/N." Elena said, dragging Y/N to the bathrom, leaving Charles and Enrique alone. There was a moment of silence before Enrique decided to speak.

"You're a good guy, Charles. It may not seem like it, but I like you. You make Y/N happy, she actually started calling us every week to tell us about you and what you did that made her happy that week. You bought her a vase?" Enrique asked.

"Yes, she has been saying that the counter in her apartment looked plain so i bought her a vase and I would bring her flowers so the apartment would look..alive, I guess." Charles responded.

"That's the kind of stuff I want my princess to experience. My wife and I have never fought in front of Y/N, we have never raised our voice at her, hit her, or anything. I'm assuming you would never do that to her either." Enrique said and Charles immediately shook his head.

"of course not, i respect your daughter, I love Y/N so much that I would rather die than even think about doing that kind of thing to her." Charles said.

"Thats exactly what I needed to hear, son." Enrique patted Charles back and he was so happy that Enrique called him 'son". The women came back to the table.

"We were gone a while, what did you talk about?" Y/N asked.

"Nothing, mon ange." Charles said.

"Todo anda bien, princesa." Enrique said, Y/N accepted it but she noticed that Charles had the same gleam in his eyes that he gets from winning. Y/N whispered in Charles's ear.

"He said he liked you, didn't he?" Y/N waited for a response and Charles nodded his head. "See? You had nothing to worry about." Y/N whispered again before deciding to place her head on his shoulder.

The End

HOPE YOU LIKED THE NEW ADDITIONS, I did not know how to write them meeting for the first time, the naming animals habit is actually mine, there are 2 stray cats by my house, I named one Thomas O’Malley and the other is named Fígaro. I also named a mouse Roquefort, I genuinely think I got it from Lilo. Hope y’all liked it! Comments are appreciated.

I have 3 ideas for new one shots

Idea 1: Charles Leclerc and Y/N are married and Y/N has a habit of adopting any dog that “gives her a sign” like it would follow her, whine if she tries to leave, etc. But the catch is, Charles and Y/N already have 8 dogs so when Charles is away at a race, Y/N picks up another dog but she tries to make it seem like she had an affair so the dog thing isn’t so bad. 100 percent inspired by that story Salma Hayek told on Jimmy Fallon. Btw, I got the dogs and names picked out.

Idea 2: there is a Bachelor Auction for charity, Charles is obviously one of the bachelors, Y/N bids on him, they go on a date, have a really good time, Charles wants to go out again.

Idea 3: Charles and Y/N are friends and roommates. Y/N lost her journal/diary, Charles found it in the driver’s room and instead of giving it back, he reads it and discovers she has a crush on an F1 driver. Instead of thinking the F1 driver Y/N writes about is himself, he thinks it’s Lando and is lowkey sad and jealous when he sees Lando and Y/N talk because Charles also likes Y/N.

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight

Part 1 Cassian x f!reader

AN: Cassian has been on my mind a lot lately, so here is part 1 of a series of short stories about him being him ❤️

Summary: You are Helion's best courtier and researcher, but you have been... off lately. He hopes sending you to the Night Court will help you get back to your usual sunny self.

Warnings: depression, perfectionism, underlying unresolved issues

Word count: 1405

To be a member of Helion's Court was to exude excellence in every way. Perfection was the standard by which every member was held and the bar with which you measured yourself against your rivals. There were no mistakes, no second chances. If you could not stand in the light of Day gloriously unmarred and unbroken, then you had no place with his halls.

However, it wasn't Helion who held his people to such a standard but, rather, the drive of competition that you instilled in each other. The Court of Day had always been composed of fiercely ambitious individuals. He grew up marveling at the impressive work his fathers advisors had done when driven to prove themselves better than their colleagues. The previous High Lord fostered the cutthroat environment. He knew just the right thing to say to stoke the fires among his people and ensure that perfection was always achieved. Always in the spirit of healthy competition, of course. He didn't allow for things to devolve into petty squabbles or grudges that would only distract from the work. You never hated your companions. Were never frustrated by their achievements and successes. Only disappointed in your own abilities.

Perhaps that was why Helion sent you to work in the Night Court, in Rhysand’s library, under the house of wind. He saw how every accomplishment and accolade given to the other of the Court left you feeling hollow and despondent. You were his best researcher, his most knowledgeable Courtier, and yet he saw that light in you fading. Dulling to a mere ember when you once burned like the sun. He hoped that some time away from the high-pressure environment of his Court would reconstitute your usually sunny disposition and lift your spirits.

At first, it had the opposite effect. You never felt lower than when you walked the lowest levels of the library, tears falling quietly down your cheeks as you wandered through the stacks. He sent you away. He made you leave his court - leave the Grand Library - your home, and come here. Where you were left in suffocating silence as the Priestesses went about their own business. Researching whatever flight of fancy captured their attention in the moment and having no real structure about it that you could discern.

Not that you had the capacity to notice much of anything those first few days. You were a shell of a person, mindlessly snaking your way through the shelves as you idly assessed the collection of tombs you were to spend the next six months of your existence working with. It was perhaps one of the reasons you did not notice the dark wings and Illyrian presence following you into the shadows.

It wasn't even that Cassian was trying to hide that he was there. You simply did not pay attention enough to see him as he approached the sitting area at which you had gathered your materials. He didn't even know why he was there, really. Clotho had called him down to check on you after one of the Priestesses had informed her that you had not left the lowest levels in more than a fortnight. But why she didn't just wait for one of the others to get back from their trips baffled him. Mor and Az were on the continent doing what they did best. While Feyre and Rhys were currently on a tour through Prythian to strengthen ties with the other Courts. Even Amren was unavailable since Varian had come into town unexpectedly to see the tiny ancient one.

So here he was feeling five kinds of wrong as he approached you, a clearly unaware female alone in the dark. Though, as he made his way through the stacks to where you were reading, he supposed you weren't exactly sulking in the shadows as he half expected you to be when he had been summoned. Instead, as he descended into the lowest level he knew most avoided, he saw a light glowing dully through the rows of books. Something in his gut tugged him along, pulled him forward as if the mother herself were guiding him to the little sitting area and the female waiting there.

When he finally turned the corner, and there was nothing more hiding you from view, he felt his breath catch in his throat. You were simply beautiful, the most beautiful female he’d ever laid eyes on, and that wasn't even taking into account how your skin glowed like the sun itself prowled within your veins. An earth bound star, trapped in the dark.

You paid him no mind. If you were even aware of his presence, he didn't know. To focused on the tome before you to notice the male now gawking at you from the stacks. He shifted his weight, unsure of what to do as you continued ignoring him and the minutes dragged on. Finally, he cleared his throat, and you jumped back from the table. Your wooden chair chattering to the ground as you put distance between yourself and the Illyrian who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Hey, don't freak out,” he held up his hands. Showing you his empty palms as he gave you an awkward smile. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

“And yet your very presence does just that,” you sneered, your heart beating fast in your chest and your eyes darting to the darkened shelves that surrounded you. Too many places - there were too many places for others to hide-

“I'm just here to check on you,” he spoke evenly, his voice softer than any male you'd ever heard before. It made you still, “Clotho was concerned that you hadn't yet left the library.”

Your eyes narrowed on him, “And she couldn't be bothered to look for herself?”

He gave a half shrug, the movement slow and deliberate. You saw every muscle move. “She tried, and so did the other Priestesses. You didn't acknowledge them, and they don't like to be this deep for that long.”

You blinked once, your body shifting out of the half crouched stance you'd been in. “...They did?”

Cassian let out a soft breath, “Yes.”

“Oh,” a frown, more thoughtful than angry, pulled at your lips. “But why send you?”

He shrugged again, the movement more relaxed and natural though still slow. “I've been asking myself that question the whole way down.”

You didn't laugh, “Well, you can report to Clotho that I am just fine and in no need of coddling.”

He frowned at that, “Do you know how long it's been?”

You waved an idle hand, “A few days is nothing. Back home, I sometimes spent a week or more in the library. So they need not wo-”

“Seventeen days,” he cut you off, and you went still again. “Seventeen days without fresh air or sunlight-” you raised an eyebrow at him, a hand gesturing down to your glowing skin, and he relented, “You know what I mean.”

A heavy sigh came out of you, “I do. I hadn't… realized…” your voice trailed off as you dragged a hand down the text on the table in front of you.

He strained his neck forward, attempting to peer at the scrawled script without risking a step closer, “What are you researching anyway? Rhys didn't say. Just that you were coming for a few months and to clean out a spare room for you up at the house. One that you haven't deigned to use yet, by the way. Azriel has been absolutely devastated to know his hard work was for nothing.”

You slammed the book closed, “It's nothing. Don't worry about it.” The glare you threw his way was enough to deter any curiosity he'd been slowly building, and he held his hand up in surrender once again. “Tell Clotho not to worry. I'll manage my time better going forward. You can leave.” It was a dismissal, but he felt the truth in your words and turned around to return back to the High Priestess far above you. As he did, a flash caught his eye, and he stilled just inside the stacks. There, snaking through the books in a way he often saw Azriel's shadows do was a glowing fragment of sunshine. He watched it slide across the floor and circle your ankle before blending seamlessly into the light you emitted naturally.

A piece of daylight, returning to the sun.

Part 2

[kxizoku-ou]

CP9 Cat Headcanons

This is... a very silly post. XD After seeing a similar concept on Pixiv (images 10–12 in this log) and critiquing the breed choices it used, I wound up writing my own take on it.

These are written with actual cats in mind (not my usual Hybrid Au), and the breed choices are just for fun— as in, largely chosen based on looks/vibes, not anything too serious. I was definitely channeling that early 2000s "characters are cats for some reason now" mini-genre, so these are pure fluff/comedy, for once... >3>

. . .

Lucci

(Bengal)

Serial toy murderer. Violently destroys any and every toy you give him within a matter of hours, days at MOST. 

Some of the things he’s done to his toys probably qualify as war crimes tbh. Likes to drown the catnip mice in his water dish. Also enjoys tearing things into ragged chunks/”gutting” the stuffing. 

Sometimes you wake up to him on your chest with a present. 

(A chunk of mutilated cat toy. He drops it onto your face.)

The most athletic cat you’ll ever know. There is no surface in your house he can’t reach SOMEHOW. Also can and will learn how to open doors, drawers, etc, and will use this unfortunate skill to get into everything if he’s bored. 

Affectionate, but only on his terms. You don’t decide when you’re allowed to pet him; when the mood strikes, he’ll interrupt whatever you’re doing and forcefully put his body in your lap. 

You’re not allowed to move until he decides you’re done. :) 

Has a surprisingly cute kneading habit. He’ll go Baby Mode and make biscuits for hours. Sucks on certain blankets too.

Kaku

(Devon Rex)

ZOOMIES TO THE MAX.

Seemingly never sits still. Will run from one end of your house to the other at all hours of the day. At night, you’re regularly woken up by the distinct rapid thumping of galloping kitty paws.

Likes high places and unexpected perching spots. This includes your shoulder— and he can make the jump on his own! 

Playful, but not prone to destroying his toys. Prefers batting hard objects down a flight of stairs to tearing the plush ones open.

Too brave (and curious) for his own good. Lacks any sense of danger when it comes to investigating something that’s caught his interest. 

This includes slipping through the front door.

Not super cuddly, but likes being near you/keeping an eye on what you’re doing. 

Has a squeaky “old man” meow. WEH!

Jabra

(Egyptian Mau)

Wild, playful, curious, and so very destructive. If he’s not kept entertained, your property will suffer for it. 

Requires FREQUENT play and attention, but fortunately, he’s not too hard to please. Throwing a squishy ball for “fetch” can keep him occupied for hours. 

The asshole cat who will make direct eye contact with you before (very deliberately) knocking something off a shelf, then sit there smugly while you try to scold him. 

Very talkative! When he wants your attention, he YELLS, and seeing wildlife outside always brings out that excited, bloodthirsty chitter. 

Taking him to the vet is an ordeal, for everyone involved...

Doesn’t mind being pet and handled. Pesters you for affection regularly, but gets bitey when he’s had enough. :/ 

Highly territorial. Will not tolerate other cats/animals near him.

Kalifa

(Turkish Angora)

Truly the embodiment of the “disdainful gorgeous fancy cat” trope. 

Her fur is incredible, due largely in part to near-constant grooming. Do NOT interrupt her washing. 

She’ll wash your fingers too if she’s feeling affectionate. Mlem mlem mlemmmm...

Likes to be involved in what you’re doing. The kind of cat to walk across your keyboard or loaf-sit on top of stray paperwork, seemingly oblivious to how badly she’s getting in the way. 

At least your “adorable secretary” makes for good moral support!

Not overly playful, but she can be a DEADLY hunter when the mood strikes— fast, agile, and with amazing reflexes no matter what kind of toy you put in front of her. 

Weirdly fickle about when you’re allowed to touch her. Will glare, hiss, and swat at fingers if you test those boundaries.

Blueno

(Norwegian Forest Cat)

The most quiet, low-maintenance, independent cat imaginable. You nearly forget he exists, sometimes.

Not much of a meower, but has a deep, calming, rumbly purr. 

Content to curl up on a chair or in a corner and let you go about your day! He’ll alternate between napping and silently staring in your general direction; the eye contact is a sign of affection. <3

Won’t seek out attention on his own, but also won’t fight it if you pick him up and carry him around like a plushie. 

...he stays limp and docile no matter what you do to him, actually.

Needs regular brushing, or his fur starts to matt. It’s pretty much the only “extra attention” he’ll require, though, and he’s (fortunately) cooperative about it. 

Learned how to open doors at some point. You don’t know how he managed that.

Fukurou

(Persian)

R O U N D (and it’s not just fluff)

Despite being shaped like a furry bowling ball, he’s quite playful, and way more agile/fast-moving than you’d expect. 

...that energy is much less cute when his full weight lands on your abdomen in the middle of the night, however.

VERY affectionate. Will take any opportunity to lay his chin on your palm, headbutt your shoulder/wrists, put his paws on your chest so he can try to lovingly lick your face, etc— purring all the while! 

Chatty cat!! Chirps and squeaks at you non-stop; if you “respond” to him, it turns into a back-and-forth conversation with his mrrep-ing. 

Fond of high places, like bookshelves and tall dressers. 

It’s unclear how such a heavy cat manages to get up onto them, but he usually ends up yowling for help when he can’t get back down.

Kumadori

(British Longhair)

A huge, massively fluffy mini-lion of a cat, with that “polite little gentleman” face common in his breed. 

Sheds. Sheds SO MUCH. All of your clothes are covered in his fur, no matter how hard you try to keep him thoroughly brushed. 

You cannot escape the fluff. 

YOWLS. The loudest, most determined drama queen when he wants something. Acts like he’s dying if his food bowl is empty for more than half an hour, non-stop howling included. 

Extremely cuddly; wants as much attention from you as you’ll give, and will flop his entire body into your lap to get it. 

Fond of jingly toys! The louder and more annoying the bell, the better. 

If you ever have to give him medicine (be it a pill or liquid), he’s utterly betrayed. Gives you the huge, sad, miserable scared-kitty eyes for the rest of the evening, and won’t let you touch him. 

(He’s over it by morning, and back to purring in your arms. Baby.)

Spandam

(Siamese)

The ugliest purebred imaginable, and his personality isn’t better. <3

Health issues. Skin/coat problems, numerous food sensitivities, arthritis, frequent UTIs, and a crooked tail from a past injury.

King of separation anxiety. If he can’t find you, he’s HOWLING, then finding a corner to cower in until his protector is back.

Truly the embodiment of the phrase “scardey cat”. Terrified of everything from the vacuum to rustling plastic bags. Huddles under the couch, trembling pathetically, after every little scare. 

...it is kind of cute when he runs to you to “save” him, however. 

This clumsy dumbass WILL get himself hurt (in incredibly stupid ways) if you don’t keep an eye on him. Utterly oblivious to real danger.

His distressed yowling is awful, and the attention-demanding yells aren’t much better. The classic So So Whiney Baby Siamese! 

NEEDS to be the only cat in the household— he’s violently territorial, but guaranteed to end up the other cat’s punching bag once he’s pissed them off enough. 

[genrockstar]

Cold Fronts & Warm Hearts | 2

summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin never expected to find himself captivated by anyone, much less the daughter of the legendary Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. But when an unexpected encounter with her challenges everything he thought he knew about love and loyalty, Hangman finds himself in a situation more complex than any dogfight.

warnings: none

pairing: jake seresin x oc

authors note: just imagine rooster and jake are actually besties...

@djs8891

The next morning, Jake "Hangman" Seresin stood on the tarmac, squinting against the bright San Diego sun. The roar of jet engines and the organized chaos of the naval base surrounded him, but his mind was still on last night. Kate Kazansky had walked into his life like a storm, unsettling the calm, collected persona he had so carefully cultivated. He was used to challenges in the sky, but this—whatever was happening between them—was something different altogether.

"Seresin, you coming?" Rooster called, motioning toward the jets lined up for the day's exercises.

Jake nodded, pulling himself back to the present. "Yeah, just thinking about my next win," he shot back with a grin, masking any sign of distraction.

As they prepped for the day's flight drills, Jake found himself scanning the crowd, searching for any sign of Kate. It was foolish, he knew. This wasn't some romantic getaway—it was the Navy, and she had her own career, her own responsibilities. But even as he strapped into the cockpit of his F/A-18, her words from the night before echoed in his head.

You hide behind that cocky grin of yours because it's easier than letting people in.

He keyed the comms as his jet roared to life. "All right, boys and girls, let's get this show on the road."

Up in the air, the familiar rush of adrenaline and the pull of gravity pushed every other thought out of his head. Here, in the sky, was where he was in control. Here, he didn’t have to worry about emotions or vulnerabilities. Up here, it was all about instinct, skill, and focus.

But even with his usual sharp focus, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Kate had gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had.

Later that afternoon, Jake was heading toward the officer’s locker room when he caught sight of Kate walking out of the command center. She was dressed in crisp Navy fatigues, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, and even though she wasn’t in flight gear, she exuded the same confidence that had intrigued him the night before.

Their eyes met, and for a split second, Jake considered turning away—walking the other direction and keeping things simple. But simplicity had never been his style.

“Kate,” he called, jogging over to her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She smiled, but there was a touch of amusement in her eyes. “I work here, Jake. It’s not that surprising.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Right. Still, didn’t expect to see you outside the officer’s club so soon.”

Kate crossed her arms, her expression playful. “Why? Afraid of a rematch?”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Rematch? I wasn’t aware we had a competition going.”

She took a step closer, her voice dropping just a little. “Everything’s a competition with you, isn’t it?”

The challenge in her voice sparked something in Jake. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about last night’s conversation or something deeper, but either way, he was ready to play along.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you should know, I don’t lose.”

Kate’s eyes gleamed, and she gave a small laugh. “We’ll see about that.”

Before he could respond, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her expression shifting slightly as she read the message.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, slipping the phone back into her pocket. “Duty calls.”

“Right,” Jake nodded, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment. “Catch you later?”

Kate gave him a smile that was as much of a promise as it was a challenge. “You know where to find me.”

As she walked away, Jake stood there for a moment, watching her go. He wasn’t used to being the one left hanging, but something about Kate Kazansky kept pulling him back. She was more than just Iceman’s daughter—she was his equal in every sense, and that terrified him as much as it excited him.

That evening, Jake found himself back at the officer’s club, nursing a beer and replaying his last conversation with Kate in his head. Rooster and Phoenix were nearby, laughing about something from the day’s drills, but Jake’s mind was elsewhere.

“Hey, man,” Rooster said, sliding into the seat next to him. “You good? You’ve been off your game today.”

Jake shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow. “Thinking? That doesn’t sound like you. Usually, you’re all action, no reflection.”

“Yeah, well,” Jake said, swirling the beer in his glass, “things change.”

Rooster’s expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair. “This about that woman you were talking to last night?”

Jake shot him a look. “You spying on me, Bradshaw?”

Rooster grinned, holding up his hands. “Relax, man. Just noticed you looked... invested, which is weird for you.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s... different. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Different how?” Phoenix chimed in, having overheard the conversation.

“She doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. Not even mine,” Jake said, almost to himself. “And she’s Iceman’s daughter, so... yeah.”

Rooster let out a low whistle. “Kazansky’s kid? Man, you don’t mess with that.”

Jake looked down at his drink, conflicted. He knew getting involved with Kate was dangerous—not just for his career, but for the walls he had built around himself. She was someone who could challenge him, push him in ways no one else had.

But walking away wasn’t an option anymore.

Before he could think too much about it, his phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

Kate: Meet me at the docks tonight. Midnight.

Jake’s pulse quickened, the thrill of the unknown sparking through him. He finished his beer, stood up, and grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Rooster asked, eyeing him curiously.

Jake smirked, the old swagger creeping back. “I’ve got a midnight rendezvous.”

The docks were quiet, save for the gentle lapping of water against the boats. Jake spotted Kate standing at the end of one pier, her figure silhouetted against the moonlit sky. She looked calm, but there was an intensity in the way she stood, waiting for him.

He approached, the sound of his boots echoing on the wooden planks. “What’s this about?”

Kate turned, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. “I needed to get away from all the expectations. The uniforms, the protocol. Everything.”

Jake stopped a few feet away, studying her. “So, you call me?”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like I’m... special because of who my father is.”

Jake crossed his arms, leaning against a post. “You’re not just Iceman’s daughter, Kate. I think you know that.”

Kate’s gaze met his, and for a moment, the tension between them hung heavy in the air. “Maybe that’s what I needed to hear.”

Jake took a step closer, his voice low. “So what now?”

Kate’s eyes flickered with something unspoken. “Now we figure out if we’re both willing to break the rules.”

Jake’s breath hitched. He was no stranger to risks, but this? This was something different. Something far more dangerous.

But as he looked into her eyes, he realized he wasn’t about to back down.

Not now. Not ever.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

My heart...don't cry I'm here - Saltburn 2023

Michael Gavey x fem!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, angst, implied non-con kissing(from Oliver), jealousy, kissing/cuddling, mentions of blood

Summary : A winter ball or a party is an invitation with consequences and love that blossoms. Michael and his sweetheart were together, everything was perfect until one thing changed and love had to be defended.

Info : So again something for Saltburn and our sweet Michael a little thought/more complex. Have fun reading ;)

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

Everything had been perfect since she had been at university, her grades were good and she had made friends. It was the perfect environment in 2006 with the others.

And it was only going to get better since she showed up in his math class, the extra afternoon class with him for the students who wanted to review the subject.

Maybe it was because it was just the two of them in the afternoon class, maybe it was because Michael was the "teacher" for the time, or maybe it was because she started bringing him a crunchy bar every time. Whatever it was, it brought the two of them together.

Maybe it was his smile that appeared every time she got another task right which was so full of joy for her that she couldn't help but smile herself. His joy and devotion to the subject and to her was clear.

That it was bound to happen at some point that when she suddenly dropped a pen and they both bent down for it, it seemed like a scene from a bad romance novel. ,,Please, I insist," he said and his lips curled into that cute smile again, which almost seemed to make him excited.

He adjusted his glasses again and put the pen back in her hand, she greeted him with a ,,Thank you Michael... tell me, I'm very grateful for all this, would you mind coming for a cup of tea with me?" she dared to ask, already preparing to be laughed at by him, that his flight of fancy had caused him to drop her.

Instead, she was almost blown away when he practically ripped her arm out and shook her hand, smiling broadly at her.

,,Oh yes, I'd love to, my dear!" he had told her and this was the first date they had had in a small cafe near the university for tea and a few cupcakes but she had quickly realized that Michael preferred his Crunchy Bars to any other sweet things.

When he dug into the chocolate and drank the tea she smiled at him and she could always see his slight nervousness. He had changed a little, he was no longer as stern and serious as he was when he was studying.

She had often seen him in the library looking at the books and exercise books so intently. Always with a thoughtful look on his face. But now he was as cute as an excited golden retriever.

But it didn't bother anyone, it was even kind of cute when he told the cashier that he had miscalculated. How he insisted that they recalculate that his bill was correct and the machine was wrong.

Michael shouted out the answer and only calmed down when she put her hand on his and gave him an understanding look. ,,Excuse my... my boyfriend, please do the math again?" she asked, not seeing the look of confusion and then complete love behind his glasses.

She hadn't dismissed him, she hadn't laughed at him or shamed him, she had called him her boyfriend. They were a couple.

They were really together. They had been together for a few months, almost a year, and yet their love for each other had never changed, on the contrary, it had only grown stronger.

It was perfect until she found the little note under her notebook, she had met Michael in the library and they had studied together and she still seemed to feel the kiss on the back of his hand when he greeted her.

,,Romance, my dear romantic, is the best thing I can give you every day," he always said before he kissed her enruet gently and always with a little hint of nervousness. He hid his eyes, pushed up his glasses and disappeared, waving.

She looked after him for a moment before disappearing into the library shelves, not paying attention to her notebook, and only when she came back did she see the little note.

Dearest Blood, I would like you to show up at my party for the Winter Ball. With best regards O she left the handwritten message and looked around to see if she could find the person who had left it there. But no?

No one seemed to fit the bill, although she could knowingly assign the O as the sender. Oliver Quick. The mutual friend of the two of them, or the cheat if Michael was concerned.

Oliver and he used to be friends, but since the brown-haired man had been hanging out with the rich guys from Saltburn and such, neither of them recognized him anymore.

Giving the note her attention for a moment, she sat back down to study and decided to tell Michael in the afternoon when they met again, not knowing that two eyes were already watching her.

That his lips curled into a smile and the plan of plans went according to plan. After a while, she disappeared from the library and found her darling in the cafeteria, his plate full of food and almost always the same.

,,Michael, look what I've found from your... friend," she said as she came to him with her tray, also full of food, and sat down at her seat, handing him the paper.

She saw how at first he seemed a little unknowing and then he seemed to remember the deceiver who had once been his friend. Looking at the paper he let her know they knew Oliver had changed but now?

Was it a good idea to go to the party? ,,A party...my darling, only if you feel like it, of course I would accompany you, it would certainly...certainly be interesting to see how he has been," Michael said and handed her the note after reading it again.

She looked at the paper, she didn't know the word "blood" from Oliver, she never thought he would become like this. One of the rich ones.

But was it true and didn't everyone deserve a second chance? That's what they both thought when they turned up at the Winter Ball, or rather the big boozy party, and they were rather overdressed.

Michael had chosen his suit and the white rose on his breast pocket, she had picked it out, fluffed it through his hair and given him a motivating kiss.

In return, he had laced up her dress and showered her with compliments before the two of them had walked through the large double doors just a few minutes later and found themselves at the "Winter Ball".

She heard the horrified sound of Michael looking at the party with an uncertain look that resembled her own. She wondered how the hell so many people could fit in here - it shouldn't be possible, should it?

Everyone was close together, bumping into their neighbors. ,,Shall we go?" she asked, looking at Michael, who adjusted his glasses and looked at her, even though he seemed to want to leave, he shook his head.

,,Shall I get us some drinks and you Oliver?" he asked and looked at her, reaching for her hand to show her that it could be different, that he was looking for his friend and she was looking for the drinks. But when her gaze turned to the bar or whatever else was there, she almost felt dizzy.

Crowds upon crowds of people had taken over the area around it and finding her way back in there would be suicide. ,, Sure we can do that," she said hastily and gave him a grateful look before they parted and Michael set off to make his way through the dancing drug addicts and his favorite through the crowds on the way to Oliver.

After having to dodge several drinks, drugs and dancing people and a leap backwards to avoid being hit by a keg of beer, she was about to give up the search when she saw a brown mop of hair disappear into one of the many rooms. A room she had never seen before.

There were many brown-haired people here, but when she saw the brief smile on the lips of the stranger, there seemed to be no doubt. It was a knowing smile, an amused smile, a hungry smile. The smile of someone who knew exactly what was going on around him.

Following the stranger into the room and opening the door, it suddenly seemed quieter, as if the walls had been built in such a way as to keep the lowly folk at bay. ,,Oliver Quick?" she asked, annoyed that her voice sounded so uncertain even though she had no reason to be.

She knew him, she thought, and yet it also seemed to be due to the room that she felt like she was being swallowed up.

Her voice didn't have the confidence she wanted and she felt her heart beat faster as the man turned around. ,,My blood, you really came, I thought you and the nerd had gone off," he sneered and she could just see his eyes roaming over her body.

He had tried to hide his attraction for her back then, but she had already seen that he was always too tempted to hug her as his hands wandered over her body.

Until she got together with Michael and Oliver left for Saltburn. ,,No we didn't Oliver, we're here to see how you're doing," she replied, glancing over her shoulder, knowing the door was within reach.

But the wolf in front of her was watching her and seemed to want to wrap his jaws around her at any moment. He smiled, winked at her and came towards her, step by step he seemed to enjoy seeing her like this more and more.

,,Looking around then, dear? You were worried how flattering," he whispered and continued to walk towards her, his hand reaching for hers and she felt him kiss the back of her hand, not sure if she should pull away. It was disgusting only Michael ever kissed her like that.

He wasn't Michael he wasn't the romantic he was a creep. ,,Let go of me, we're done here!" she screamed, wanting to tear her arm free and run for the door, out of the room, away from him, away from everything, and yet the wolf seemed faster.

Grasping her wrist, he healed her in place and the grin of his fangs frightened her even more and she wanted to scream. She could already feel herself gathering air, she would scream for her friend until she fell silent.

Something almost medicinal tasted, medicinal, bitter. Alcohol. The alcohol and drug-filled kiss of Oliver on her lips that robbed her of any scream.

She felt his hands running over her body, reaching for everything he could get, wanting more and more. It was disgusting the pressure on her arms, legs and back as he tried to loosen the bow.

Before suddenly all her senses exploded fear and panic flooded through her and she tore him away from her. She ran out and saw the grin behind her as he licked his lips as if he wanted more of this forbidden treasure.

She no longer saw anything but fear as she hurried through the crowd, not paying attention to the people, and only cried out again, which was drowned out by the music when she felt hands on her shoulders.

,,Darling!" she heard the nickname and feared it was Oliver who had opened up to her and wanted to pull her back into the room and take her into the dark.

She was afraid of what would happen. ,,Honey, it's Michael! What's going on? What happened?" he asked, his hands on her cheeks trying to calm her down, seeing the fear screaming in her eyes.

Her eyes full of fear looked at him and slowly she began to understand that it wasn't Oliver, that it wasn't the one who had kissed her who wanted more of her. ,,Mi-Michael...I-I want to leave now!" she screamed at him and saw that he was looking over her, searching for something to explain what had happened.

But by then he had already grabbed her by the hand and taken her out of the building, walked her to the car and put her inside.

The cool night enveloped her, but the heat seemed slow to overcome her. ,,What happened?" he asked, his voice calm yet demanding, she didn't have to look to know that he was pulling himself together, that his hands were shaking, that his body was tense and that he would give anything to help her.

,,Oli-Oliver he...kissed me...I flew I had to get away," she stammered, still afraid of what might have happened if she hadn't escaped.

Instead, she felt a comforting warmth other than the heat of the party Oliver gently placed his hand on hers and gave her a soft sympathetic expression before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a Crunchy bar.

His kiss was as gentle and careful as Oliver could ever be and he said, ,,Wait here please I'll be back in a few minutes everything will be fine darling". It was almost absurd how gentle he could be in this situation and she gave him as grateful a look as she could.

Before he left, he pulled out a handkerchief, skillfully wiped away the tears and gave her one last gentle kiss on the head.

It was so different from Oliver when Michael disappeared into the dark back to the party while she was back in the car looking at the bar in her hand. But this time the beating of her heart was different, it wasn't full of fear, it was full of love.

Even then, when he returned a few minutes later, she was startled to see the blood on his white shirt, the splinter in his glasses and the blood on his fingers. He wanted to start the car without saying a word but hadn't sorted himself out.

This time she put her hand on his, put her head on his shoulder and said a simple, ,,Thank you Michael, I love you" as he gave her another kiss.

She knew the blood smelled of Oliver he knew Michael had hit him but she didn't care she had him with her. His kisses covered Oliver's and with each kiss she slowly forgot what had happened.

There was only her and Michael had only ever given it and would only ever give it.

~~~~~~~~~

@ateliefloresdaprimavera , @valeskafics , @ria-coolgirl , @wigglywoos59 , @sapphirespiders , @su-per-fi-cial-if-rep-us

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 15, In Which You Dance Twist With Mr. Goat (Pulp Fiction Style)

AO3

TAGS: self-harm, sharp objects, glass, politics

There was a time, not so long ago, when you were terrified of flying. 

The mere thought of that huge metal thing plummeting from the sky for no apparent reason (well, the human factor. It's always the human factor), a minute of sheer terror, descent, and then boom.

No survivors.

No bodies ever recovered.

You used to fear situations that so brazenly took control away from you. 

Well, you were wrong; there was something strangely comforting about letting go; about snuggling up in the plush comfort of an oversized leather seat, scrolling through messages on your phone to the roar of the twin engines. 

Raphael's hand was always on your knee, his tail wrapped tightly around your ankle, as if you could escape him on the private jet - or off it. A black diamond ring on your finger sparkled in the sunlight filtering through the oval windows. 

Across from you sat Camilla, while Jens occupied the far corner seat. Yurgir was conspicuously absent; you didn't pry into his reasons, just assumed his size exceeded the weight limit of any aircraft.

A headline in the Daily Mirror caught your eye: "Who is Anya Berger? What do we know about the mysterious girl who won the heart of a billionaire in ten days?"

What do they know, you wondered and clicked.

"Walk me through the panels again," Raul asked. "And the key people to talk to."

"Morning is boring," Korilla replied. "Mental health crisis, supply chain disruptions, sustainability regulations. You start in the afternoon, sir: your first is the AI discussions with the UN Secretary General's Special Envoy for Technology."

"I won't say a word about this soulless drivel," Raphael said, skimming through the agenda.

Camilla choked on her coffee while Jens flinched at her sudden movement, his hand swiftly resting on the gun now.

"Mr D'Avergni, Avernus' portfolio is 15% invested in AI technologies," she said as soon as she collected herself. "What do you mean 'soulless nonsense'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I will not say a word about these abominable technologies. I have been made privy to information that they are cannibalising art and I will not stand for it". 

"Where did you hear this nonsense?" whispered Camilla. "Tumblr? Anya? Is that your doing?"

"I'm totally against AI," you interjected, without looking up from your phone, engrossed in the news article about your grunge heroin chic and manic-girl attitude.

They recommended black nail polish, drawing dark circles under your eyes and perfecting the look of total derangement to repeat your success. There were also some advanced blowjob techniques at the bottom of the article. 

"What is this panel 'Securing an Insecure World'?" asked Raphael. "I quite fancy the name."

"Sir, it has nothing to do with you. This is the macroeconomic panel on the dying middle class, youth problems, inequality, blah blah blah. Fear-mongering."

"Fear-mongering?" said Raphael. "I seem to have found my stage."

Camilla closed her eyes and put on her best smile. The flight attendant glided by in her pressed uniform and replaced your coffee; you were momentarily struck by the amount of cleavage she was showing as your eyes glanced upwards. 

To see very familiar eyes and a smile. Haarlep put a finger to her lips and gave you a little wink. You smiled back.

"Sir," Camilla said gently. "It doesn't work that way. You can't just speak whenever and about whatever you want in a global forum. It's all scripted, all pre-written."

"Astute observation," said Raphael. "Scripted conversations, scripted problems, scripted solutions, no room for improvisation. Davosneeds a breath of fresh air. Of honesty. Of a genuine hope for change".

Camilla said, "Of course, sir," and forced a smile. 

Back to the article: did they really get your ex-boyfriend to give an interview about you? Did he have anything good to say, that bastard who regularly forgot to flush the toilet?

Yes, he had plenty to say, mostly about you being not right in the head. You put him on your hit list and stroked Raphael's tail, which in turn stroked your ankle. They even got your mum on the phone, who thankfully had nothing much to say except that you were a good Catholic girl.

You saw some frantic movement out of the corner of your eye.

Camilla was waving you over to the plane's galley. You tried to get up, but were stopped by a tail wrapped around your ankle like a boa constrictor. "May I go to the toilet?" you asked, and Raphael uncoiled his tail, three times, with a slight reproach in his eyes. Jens did his best to keep a straight face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Camilla pulled you deeper into the galley. She smelled of fresh coffee and burnout. 

"Anya, listen, I am very sorry that it has to come to this, but just between us girls..." she said, her fingers fidgeting with her diamond necklace. "Did Raul remember to take his medication today? I don't like his mood”. She shifted on her feet. "God, I miss the days when you could smoke in these things”.

"I'm not his doctor," you shrugged.

"Well, maybe it would be worth reminding him," Camilla drawled. "I'd rather not see viral videos of him committing political suicide in Davos. And I'm sure you'd agree."

You weren't so sure.

"I'm not going to poke the devil, and I suggest you don't either," you said, leaning against the galley counter.

Camilla sighed and gave you a very sympathetic smile.

"Anya, may I give you some friendly advice? Raul may seem like a half-god to you, but I've seen him curled up in a ball sobbing about how Daddy never loved him when he was high as a kite on coke. He's... as human as the rest of us. For better and worse”.

Just then, the plane shook violently, sending you both clutching the walls for support. The pilot quickly apologized over the intercom.

"Don't patronise me, Korilla," you said. "Do you think I'm just some pathetic, love-struck girl Raul likes to abuse?"

Camilla paused for a moment before suppressing a grin. "I'm going to invoke my right against self-incrimination. So tell me, my dear: who are you really?"

"Much more than meets the eye." You straightened up, standing slightly taller than her (which was not difficult). "I'm the one who gave him all this power in the first place."

"Wow," Kamilla snorted out in surprise. "Wow. Okay. Cool. Never mind."

"You need proof?" you said quietly. 

"Not really," she said.

"I wish you would get down on your knees and kiss my hand."

"What?" Kamilla burst out laughing. "Maybe you should share your medicine with Raul. Ask Dr Bambauer for a family discount. He will be at Davos, by the way, speaking on the mental health crisis".

"I wish for you to kiss my hand," you insisted. "Come on, do it, I have a point to prove."

You really need to learn how to calibrate these things. This one worked, though; she complied, sinking to her knees before you, a wild look in her eyes. Then she planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on your palm, leaving a crimson mark. 

"What the hell?" she whispered as she looked up at you. Raphael was engrossed in his paperwork, oblivious to the scene, so was Jens.

"See, Korilla," you started again after letting the moment hang awkwardly in the air for longer than necessary, "don't worry about Raphael talking nonsense. You'd be surprised how many people eat it up."

"Who the fuck is Raphael?"

"Your new boss," you said. "Well, old boss actually. Ahh... you won't really notice much of a difference; I hardly do myself sometimes," you lowered your voice to a minimum. "But don't tell them that, they'll get angry. You can get up now, this is getting a bit weird."

She tried to say something, her lips barely moving. You think it was 'how'. She was asking ‘how’.

"You see," you said. "The devil thinks I am very, very  special”.

Having said that, you came back to your seat. Raphael's tail immediately darted to your ankle and wrapped around it. You leaned back in your chair and watched Haarlep flirting with the pilot out of the corner of your eye.

It would be really stupid to crash because Haarlep wanted to have a quickie in the cockpit. The plane began its descent to Samedan St Moritz airport. The rugged Swiss Alps came into view out the window, snow-capped peaks glistening in the afternoon sun. 

***

When you book a presidential suite you no longer have to check in, you can just walk straight past the reception. The hotel was a mountain resort so exclusive that the website was just an artistic photo with no way to reserve a room. 

Raphael was eerily calm as he watched the staff unpack your belongings. His calm demeanour lasted until some poor sap nearly wrinkled his suit while trying to hang it in the en-suite cloakroom. A deafening growl sent the trembling fellow scuttling from the room.

The rest were given very generous tips.

Soon after, you found Raphael rehearsing his speech in a mirror, repeating the same phrases three times in a row, "when youth was told their souls were worthless, easily replicated by machines". Each time he spoke, there was a subtle change in tone, as if he was trying to capture some emotion - you were not quite sure what he was getting at - was he trying to imitate genuine concern? 

If so, he could work on his delivery.

He gave it another shot, the tension in his back muscles evident through his shirt.

"Excellent choice of attire, gattina," he gave you a look you approached. "Might I suggest an improvement? Not these trousers. The black pencil skirt with the white vertical stripes, the Saint Laurent one from the spring collection."

"It looks absurd on me," you looked away. "I don't have the body for it."

"You have the body for anything," he said. "Don't debate me on this. Slip into the skirt, return here and see how right I am”.

That damned skirt was a nightmare: so constricting that any wrong move felt like a tear waiting to happen; clearly designed by someone who either had never laid eyes on an actual woman or harbored a deep-seated resentment towards anyone the wrong size and proportion, which would be everyone. 

Yet somehow, you managed to wriggle yourself into it and made your way back to him.

"Now that's what I want to see," Raul smiled. "A beautiful woman and all mine."

"It's two sizes smaller than what I wear".

"Come closer, you silly creature, and grasp how breathtaking you are."

He tugged you towards the full-length mirror and swept your hair to one side so that you could take in your entire reflection.

Only it wasn’t yours.

When you played Sims and tweaked the controls to create the ideal you, you ended up with someone like this. Every trait similar to what you had, only better. A lot better. Smoother skin, better hair, smaller waist, perkier tits.

"They will see you through my eyes," Raphael said as his hands slid under your blouse and cupped your breasts. "These mortals will seethe with jealousy, envying me for having you and you for having me."

The woman in the mirror looked like someone Raphael would choose to be his consort. The skirt looked perfect, as it was tailor made just for you. 

"That’s not me," you said, mesmerized by the eerie reflection.

"Nonsense. You didn't know who you truly were until you met me," he whispered in your ear. "If it's not you I'm putting my arms around, why would you feel them?"

You felt his palms squeeze your breasts and roll your nipples between his fingers. His lips brush your neck. His growing bulge against your backside.

"Now would you be so kind?.." he asked. 

You could swear the woman in the mirror was bending over before you did, eagerly offering herself, sliding her panties down to her knees and placing her palms on either side of the mirror for leverage. His hands kneaded your buttocks, spreading you apart as his erection pressed against your entrance.

Foreplay wasn't on his agenda, you realized with a shiver. True enough, he penetrated you with a single thrust. First sharp pain, then the very familiar pleasure, liquid and pitch black and all-consuming.

"Look," he said. "Look at yourself. Look at me. Marvel at what you see."

The woman in the mirror moaned in response, pleasure etched on her face as the devil behind her ravaged. Her features twisted and blurred in ever-changing motion, skin wobbling like waves of water; she was shifting between all the women you ever dreamed of being - one moment Tav, then Christine, then Sarah Williams.

"It's not real," you moaned. 

His eyes remained fixed on the mirror the whole time he fucked you. You arched backwards into him, grinding against him with each thrust, skin slapping against skin.

"There is no reality," he whispered back. "Other than what you see in that mirror”.

His thrusts came harder now, jolting you against the cold glass. The woman in the mirror seemed to have gone insane from how well she was being fucked, her face twisted in a barely human grimace of bliss.

"Climax," he commanded with a snap of his fingers.

You saw the woman in the mirror go limp in his arms, a look of absent bliss on her face, and then remember that the woman was you. A jagged sound ripped from you. Your body responded to the command like a dog thrown a biscuit; your cunt tightened around his cock once.

Twice. 

The woman in the mirror morphed again; now it’s someone you’d seen a thousand times, the weird pale girl nobody ever gave a second look. 

You. 

Thrice.

The mirror you were propped against shattered - spectacularly so, its razor-sharp fragments raining down like confetti.

"Hang on," you managed to gurgle out in sheer terror as you tumbled, losing your balance. "Raphael, hold on..."

He didn't. Instead, he let gravity take over and you fell face-first into the broken mirror below, his weight following right after. Your scream of pleasure morphed into a wail of agony as countless tiny shards opened up on your skin; mutilating, cutting, obliterating. 

oh god it hurts 

Raphael groaned as he drove you deeper and deeper into the jagged fragments, your writhing and screaming doing nothing to deter him. The shards under your skin thrust in and out with each thrust, piercing right through you, through your face.

oh god it hurts; pulsated the single thought. The pain was nothing like you had felt before; it was the clearest sensation your clouded mind had ever processed.

A growing pool of blood spread like spilled wine on the white marble tiles beneath you. You closed your eyes tightly, but that didn't make the blood disappear. You blinked them open again... then closed them... 

Blood was still there. Raphael thrust once, so hard there wasn’t a single shard left that didn’t hurt you. 

Twice.

Three times, and he came inside you, spitting curses in Italian between ragged breaths. 

The pain suddenly vanished as if snapped away by his fingers; but its ghostly memory kept your tears flowing.

"I swear to God, kitten" Raul murmured as he rolled off you, "the way you're screaming would make anyone think I'm murdering you."

You opened your eyes and stared at the perfectly white tiles.

No blood.

No shards. No cuts. No pain.

Nothing. You looked up in the mirror: the Gorgeous Version of You looked back. You looked down on yourself. 

Exactly how you always wanted to be. 

You laughed in blissful abandon. Then, you rolled onto your back, catching sight of Raul's gobsmacked expression which made you laugh even harder.

read the rest on ao3

[hotwaterandmilk]

Just a reminder that the first volume of Nanao Tomo's The Hachioji Speciality: Tengu's Love comes out in English from Yen Press this week. I already double-dipped on the Japanese volumes, but I'm going back for more with the English volume too.

While a lot of series captivate me with their plot, Hachioji Meibutsu: Tengu no Koi grabbed my attention with its beautiful retro-tinged art and has continued to hold my interest with its atmosphere.

So why is this series such a highlight in the current ASUKA magazine lineup? I've tried to breakdown my thoughts (albeit sleepily) on why I like this title and why other readers might be keen to give it a shot now that it's enjoying an English-language release.

The series description from Yen Press describes the series as follows:

"Can a determined tengu bride change a lonesome bachelor’s ways? Well, it’s not like he’s got much of a choice— ’cos she’s already moving in! Young systems engineer Kotarou has had to make his own way in life. Nothing remains of his early childhood before he was orphaned—nothing except his grandparents’ antique house in Hachioji and memories of Hime, the winged spirit girl he’s come to dismiss as a youthful flight of fancy. But after his return to Hachioji and reunion with Hime, it becomes impossible to deny the existence of his fine, feathery friend—especially given that she’s declared they’re getting married at second sight!"

Which makes it sound like you're signing up for a typical 90s-style magical girlfriend series and, well, to an extent you are. Hime is beautiful, powerful and innocent in the ways of the human world. Kotarou on the other hand is somewhat average, cynical human who now finds himself saddled with an otherworldly bride. Hijinks ensue!

What I think helps Tenkoi differentiate itself from other series with similar setups (aside from the stunning art) is that it gives both the reader and the characters time to breathe, to be in each other's company, and exist without needing constant jokes. There's this ancient peace to Hime's village and a gentleness in her exchanges with Kotarou, even as a gaggle of her relatives argues around them.

Even the gag moments have a beauty and sense of pacing about them that's hard to find these days. We actually get the space to see Hime interact with the vacuum, for example. What so many titles might have condensed into 3 panels at best is expanded here, allowed to sit, presented to us for enjoyment. I just love that about Tenkoi, there is no real rush even when the series is moving Hime and Kotarou's relationship forward.

There's a willingness in Tenkoi to sit with difficult moments, mundane moments, humorous moments and moments of affection. To let each have its time to unfurl, to let us savour them all.

There's also an appreciation of the Hachioji region and the way the local population interact with the natural and spiritual world despite being in a suburban location (though this comes up a bit more by the second volume).

Another thing I like is that while there are a few gags about Kotarou being entranced by and touching Hime's wings (which she says are off-limits) overall Kotarou is a decent guy. While initially unsure about the situation he supports Hime in leaving the village for her own sake, aiming to empower her rather than to score himself a tengu bride. While at one point in the first volume he gets frustrated by just how hard it is to hide a lively tengu from the world, he soon sees the error in his ways and again pledges to support Hime in whatever she chooses to do.

It's just nice to see a male lead who can be wrong, admit he was wrong, and strive to make things right with the people around him in such a mature way? He sleeps on it and is like fuck, I was an asshole my life is better with her in it and immediately gets his shit together. Some leads can go dozens of volumes without figuring out that much so it was nice to see that corner turned early on in the series.

I should mention that food is an important part of how love is expressed in this series and a big part of how Hime begins to learn about the human world, so if food is a major trigger for you then Tenkoi might be best avoided. However, there are minimal other warnings I can think of for those considering starting the series (aside from consent being established regarding Hime's wings).

Tenkoi is still ongoing in ASUKA (which is published bi-monthly these days) so there's only two print volumes right now. There's enough little moments in this lushly rendered and atmospheric supernatural love story that it could go for many years at its current clip, but whether that happens remains to be seen.

Right now though I enjoy Tenkoi for being a simple story told well and with heart. If you're not looking for major plot innovation and are happy to just spend time in the presence of these characters experiencing simple joys in Hachioji, then this is a title I recommend.

(Also Hime is super cute, I adore her.)

[austenian-decadence]

"It's getting harder," They had said to me one evening. "To hide my esteem for you."

The shrew in me wanted to strike back. Speak for yourself! I wanted to say. Look at what you've done to me.

But I dare not. I dare not, because they were holding that delightful new cake they'd brought over from London. And I was as much a thrall to that cake as I was to them.

It had all started very innocently, of course. I was a shrewish debutant in her fifth season. With a plethora of elder siblings to marry before me, nobody minded that I was rushing towards spinsterhood. They were a gentle eyed gentry newly arrived from the north. They jested to me as we talked that they had no idea what to do with themselves in London. "In the North, the ladies aren't nearly so delicate," They had said with a smile. "There's so much fussing and obfuscating here. In the North the ladies say what they want, do what they want, and eat what they want. They have an appetite for independence."

My stomach had growled at that. Both at the idea of independence, and of appetite. I had always been somebody who preferred food over flights of fancy. I'd rather be in the library with a plate of biscuits and a book than dancing and chatting. But something about them piqued both my curiosity and my hunger.

I think they knew that, even then. Because after our dance they returned with a tray laden with cakes and sandwiches. I didn't notice until later, when I went home with a bit of a stomach ache, that they'd eaten none of it.

They began to pay me visits. They always came in the afternoon around tea, and they always brought food. They were (and remain so) as big a literature fanatic as I, so we would discuss books and learning as we ate. Or, I suppose, as I ate. They were delightfully slender, with a schoolmaster's physique, and they rarely touched food. I, on the other hand, positively devoured whatever came. Discussing books always seemed to give me an appetite, and it began to show.

I would leave those meetings with more thoughts in my head and food in my belly than I ever had before. I would make an excuse to my family and take a nap just so I could lay in bed, one hand on my swollen stomach. The loose cuts of gowns obscured how very much I had enjoyed their hospitality, but it couldn't be hidden when I laid down. My stomach was hard to the touch, absolutely crammed full of food. I would rub it to try and sooth the discomfort, and I would ignore how much the discomfort wasn't really discomfort. I'm making a pig of myself. I really should stop.

But I didn't. I didn't, because of the most horrible reasons.

No, it wasn't that I liked to eat, or that I liked to be so terribly full.

It was because I liked them.

Them, with their gentle eyes and insistent nature, carefully hidden under genuine kindness just as I carefully hid my encroaching waistline under loose gowns. Them, who told me how lovely I looked even as I could barely breath from eating. Them, who sent over ginger cookies the day after I nearly made myself positively sick from eating.

It was them, who had unlocked this terrible hunger in me, and had shown me terrible kindness in return. I should hate them, I think, as I stare at myself in the mirror. My belly pressed at my stays, swelling out despite the tightest lacing I could stand. I could barely breath from the pressure, my stomach unhappily confined by propriety. I doubted it'd be the last. My arms had grown soft, flesh causing the shoulders of my dress to pinch at the skin. The only thing that hadn't grown was my chest, which only made me look more like an apple left to soak in water. Where before I had only looked round when I overate, I now looked like I'd constantly overeaten. I wasn't nearly as large as other women, but I was beginning to burst the seams of my old body. This morning I'd noticed the first stretch mark on my belly.

It made me hungry.

"It's getting harder," They had said to me one evening. "To hide my esteem for you."

The shrew in me wanted to strike back. Speak for yourself! I wanted to say. Look at what you've done to me.

But instead I simply said: "Well. It's a good thing that we marry tomorrow."

They smiled, and allowed themselves a caress of my belly.

There was no need for me to take many of my clothes to the North. I doubt I'd use them long.

[thegildedbee]

Apology/Imperfect: May 23 & 24 Prompts from @calaisreno

This latest chapter and the previous ones are here at ao3. ..................................................................................

In and of itself, the passing of time had not yet begun to blunt whatever was continuing to tear at him in losing Sherlock; in and of itself it had not offered a pathway forward. His impulse to revisit the beginning had surprised John –.he had no idea if this flight of fancy (and of his feet) would worsen his situation; although he’d wager that "worse" was not a possibility. But the impetuosity had sparked his synapses, and as he buys his ticket for the train, he knows that it is the right thing to do, even if he cannot put words as to why.

On the day after Sherlock had come into his life, the “pink lady,” Jennifer Wilson, had traveled from Cardiff to London; nearly two years later, his remembrance of her existence had prompted John to travel in reverse, allowing the train to carry him further back in time the nearer they drew to Wales. Six minutes from Paddington, as the train accelerates to its running speed of 125 miles an hour, he realizes that he has no idea what he will do once the train pulls into the station. He takes himself to task, wondering if what he’ll do is to step out on the platform, consider the whole journey a folly, check the timetables, and turn around and head back to London. He decides that he doesn’t need to decide, not yet. In two hours’ time, when he steps off the train, he can exit the station, sit down in the nearest pub, and then work out what comes next.

Already he feels as if he is more free to breathe, outside of Harry’s home, beyond Baker Street, increasingly distant from the Diogenes, and Bart’s Hospital, and Scotland Yard, moving further and further away from Charles Magnusson’s corporate high-rise and the street where Irene Adler had lived, and the Tower, the Old Bailey, and Sherlock’s grave. Within the neutral space of the moving train, within the in-between of departure and arrival, John thinks he can let go enough that it will allow him to begin to make a reckoning, loosening knots that bind him to what has been, by thinking new thoughts.

The day that Sherlock had solved the pink lady’s murder was the day that John had thrown in with him. It was the start of them being . . . something . . . to each other. A something that would become something more over time. Two mates? Best friends? A pair? A duo? Twinned? A merger? A team? A partnership? A match? A couple?

It's a complicated question, he admits to himself grudgingly, because there are two sides to it, right? Knowing the answer for one side does not automatically reveal the answer for the other. From one angle -- his -- it’s simple, because whatever it is, it just is. But the whole bloody mess is full of multiple dimensions isn’t it, tenth Doctor timey-wimey stuff. He starts to feel irritated at this line of thought, and throws up his hands. Best put this off until he gets to the pub. Best put this off until he’s been at the pub for a while – and after he’s a few pints down.

But it wasn’t just two of them, was it, he and Sherlock, although they wouldn’t know that for a while. There was a third, right at the start, although the third had thought that he was one of two. He had thought that he was at the start of . . . something . . . with Sherlock. Nothing as simple as mates or best friends or a pair; what he was after was more complex than these: A duo? Twinned? No, it would be closer to a merger, although that wouldn’t be emotionally true enough, would it?

Sherlock had been on Moriarty’s mind ever since he discovered him in the aftermath of Carl Powers’ death. He had been planning a courtship through all these years, the trainers his Rosebud, that he would lay at Sherlock’s feet. He wanted, at least early on, to be a team, a partnership – yes, that would be closer. It might have even been satisfactory if that was all that was possible from Sherlock's end; or might be satisfactory as a way station, until Moriarty could bend him to his will. Moriarty had already raced ahead: his something was as a match, as a couple.

Moriarty had been writing himself and Sherlock into a twisted fairy tale from the start. He didn’t know Sherlock as well as he might have thought; he would need access to Mycroft’s brain, and memories, and his expressive tells to compensate for both his lack of data, and his lack of a soul, unable as the psychopath that he was to feel the emotional connection that his lust for power over Sherlock craved. In the aftershocks of Jennifer Wilson's death and the Yard's summons to Sherlock, Moriarty had sent Sherlock a setpiece from The Princess Bride to play, to test his mettle: to see if he died -- and that his brain had been made of inferior stuff, and playing the game wouldn't have been worth the candle; or whether Moriarty’s hypothesis that Sherlock was worthy to be one of two with him was proven, by his staying alive, demonstrating that he possessed a mind that was laced with iocane powder.

How disappointed Moriarty must have been when he realized that Sherlock hadn't understood the reference! John smiled, wistfully, remembering: the inevitable glitch in the operation of genius, yes? That there’s always something.

But Sherlock hadn’t needed an iocane-laced brain; he had John: John could act that night as the antidote to the poison, and he had. He had played a role in the fairy tale, although not a part that was written by Moriarty, but the part that was appearing in letters across the London skyline, like magic ink when it becomes visible, written by the two of them: John and Sherlock.

Their once upon a time, which had begun the day before, ended its first chapter with John saving Sherlock by slaying a dragon.

The train surges ahead as the landscape outside the window greens, and a young mother and her son make their way down the aisle back to their seats, hand-in-hand. She listens to him with an intent expression as he waves outside the window and then to his mobile, explaining something or other about the Pokemon he’s captured. Outside, the long stretch of empty track behind them leaves evidence of the miles that have disappeared during that moment.

John had seen himself as Sherlock’s protector from the start: a soldier to protect him from harm, harm from others and harm from himself, even as Sherlock set out to protect London, with all the recklessness, brilliance, abrasiveness, arrogance, imperfection and exuberance that was embedded within his being.

But John had not been able to protect Sherlock in the last days of his life. Something had gone wrong, and while there were more contributing factors than he was sure he could count if he counted until the end of his days, he knew that some of that wrongness had been down to him. He catches glimpses when he remembers those times when he was at Sherlock’s side during the tumult of the photo calls that began with his retrieval of Turner’s Reichenbach Falls painting. He senses deep inside that he owes Sherlock an apology for the condescension he had indulged in, which obscured his view of the field of battle, leaving Sherlock alone to try and overcome the curse that Moriarty had spun around him. There's more there he needs to think about it, if he's ever going to understand what happened. He can't just skip over it; he has to go through it, and hope that he emerges on the other side.

........................................................

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

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[ladylooch]

Hiii! How about recently starting a relationship with Nico before the summer break, and obviously not traveling back home with him since it is far too early to meet the family. But now he is back in the States with his entire family and they are dying to meet you but you are still a little apprehensive about it all. 😊

Nico's New Girlfriend

A/N: Ooo I hate how long this took. So sorry, anon! Thank you for your patience 😘

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: None!

Nico is barely awake on the phone screen in your hand. You are both watching the final episode of Ted Lasso together via FaceTime while he is back home in Switzerland- 3,900 miles away, not that you’re counting. His eyes are droopy, long lashes extending out to dust along his cheek bones. He promised if you two watched a show together, he would be able to stay awake longer. Poor thing has been training so hard. His eyes were sluggish when the opening credits began.

“Nico. You should go to sleep.” You say, startling him back awake.

“I’m not sleepy.” He mumbles back, widening his eyes and looking back at his TV. 

“You are. And you need to be up early for your Nashville flight.” Nico sighs, running a hand through his hair as he sits up, clicking the TV off.

“It’s hard knowing I’m going to be flying over you and not seeing you.” He grumbles. Nico invited you to attend the NHL awards with him this week, but it all felt too soon. You both discussed it at length. But your apprehension won. This is so new and meeting his whole family on a massive, public scale while being photographed with him felt like too much. How would you live with those pictures out there forever if things were to end? You shiver again at the uncomfortable thought of losing him.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You bite at your fingernail regretfully.

“It’s okay. I want you to be comfortable. Maybe by Christmas.”

“Definitely by Christmas.”

“Good, Nina makes the best hot chocolate with whipped cream and nutmeg on top.” Nico sighs as he remembers it. “I can’t wait to share you with them. You should know they have been asking about you. They told me I should beg you to reconsider.” You pout at him, loving the way his eye crinkle in the corners with his small smile.

After many more attempts to get Nico off the phone, he finally agrees to go to bed. You go about the rest of your day in the afternoon, doing some shopping and preparing for the week ahead at work. You fight off the Sunday scares by going to bed early.

That night, while you’re sleeping, a Hischier you haven’t met drops into your Instagram DMs. 

Hi Y/N, it’s Nina, Nico’s sister. I am sorry to introduce myself so abruptly, but… I think you need to know how sad Nico is that you are not joining us in Nashville. He won’t say anything to you because he does not want to put pressure on you. But he wants you there. He feels his success this year was because of your support. He wishes to share it with you, whether he wins or not. Please reconsider! I’ll help with whatever I can!

You smile, biting your lip at hearing from Nina. Nico loves her. And talks of her often. He is convinced you two will be best friends. To hear from her with such a heartfelt and honest confession does something to your reservations. It cancels most of them from your brain and before you even know what you’re doing, you’re booking a last minute flight to Nashville. The price and fees are outrages and the flight time is shit, but damn, Nico is worth it.

It takes assistance from one of the WAGS to get in touch with a Devils’ employee who can assist with getting you close to Nico for the surprise. The NHL Awards are sure to be locked down with security and you need to be sure you can see him. You suit up into a simple black dress that isn’t eye catching, but fancy enough that you can walk into the arena with him. Your pass is tucked safely in your clutch to avoid being stolen. Your hair falls in curled tendrils down your shoulders and a pair of strappy sandals help give you some heigh to push your way through the crowd. Once you’re at the fencing, your fingers fiddle with the picture of Nico in your hands for him to sign.

The Devils nominees all arrive together. You smile, watching as Nico awkwardly navigates around, showing his suit, doing interviews, and shifting around from foot to foot at all the attention. Fans scream his name from every direction. His family searches the crowd for you while Nico tends to his captaincy duties. Fans line the bike rack all around you. They press you further up against the rack as other players walk by, signing and posing for pictures. They can grab whatever they want from these other players. You only care about one. 

Nico gets closer, nibbling his lip and signing every thing thrusted in front of his face. He’s so gracious with fans, even when he doesn’t want to be.

“They deserve the best from me.” He told you once before when you were stopped multiple times while out at dinner. He had offered to say no to these interactions when you were together, but you loved watching Nico in this setting. The way he takes time to ask follow up questions and makes sure the picture turned out right or giving hugs when asked. 

And that’s how you know he will come to you without any effort on your part.

You don’t say anything as he gets to the kid right next to you. He barely is looking up anymore, just trying to sign as many things as he can before the NHL representative pushes him into the arena. He reaches for the picture in your hands as his family stops behind him to watch you two. Nina makes eye contact with you excitedly while pulling up her phone to film the interaction.

“Do you think I could have a picture?” You wonder, leaning a bit more forward. Nico snaps up at the sound of your voice. He grins, electricity jolting through you at being the recipient of that awestruck look.

“Babe…” He is in disbelief but smiling so wide his dimples pinch perfect slits into his cheeks. “What?”

“Surprise!”

He can only stare back at you. His hand is paused with the picture between you, marker hovering. Fans call out his name insistently, but he can’t pull his eyes off of you. You step onto the bike rack, reaching out for him to move closer. He does wrapping his arms around your waist as the security guard is getting ready to yell at you.

He buries his face into the nook of your neck. You press your nose into his hair, closing your eyes to ignore the hundreds of cameras taking pictures of you. Those pictures are posted on social media stories across a handful of platforms. It won’t take long for the fans to find you. What scared the shit out of you a week ago now gives new life as you realize why Nico wanted you here so bad. Its so obvious in the way he holds you and cradles your face when he pulls away to kiss you.

Nico Hischier is in love with you.

“I can’t… tell you what this means to me.” 

“You don’t have to… Nina did.” Nico sighs, looking over his shoulder at his sister. He leans back down to hug you again, murmuring that he still isn’t quite sure this is real.

You make eye contact with Nico’s family over his shoulder. The four of them watch their beloved boy crumble into soothing contentment with his new girlfriend. Nico knows he should let you go, but he can’t yet. You feel like home even though he just left home.

His family, the people he adores and honors every moment of his life, know exactly why Nico feels so content now. 

They could see it in the way he talked about you so far this summer. It’s why Nina reached out and Jack smirks as he walks around you two to continue to sign autographs.

You’re the one. Indisputably. And now the rest of the world knows it too.