#( .ff thrill. )

[museaway]

stayed up until 3am playing a visual novel route because I'd become INVESTED and woke up to my mind absolutely whirring. just braindumped 1.8k into a Google doc so I guess I'm a liar again this year and will be doing the 5k after all

[kwyw]

[wolves-in-the-world]

Goran Višnjić as Nikola Tesla in Doctor Who 12.4, Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror.

image descriptions below the cut

—

[1] A still from an episode of Doctor Who, showing Goran as Nikola Tesla in front of Niagara Falls with an audience of men in suits and top hats, only their backs shown to us. Nikola is gesturing towards the waterfall as he speaks. He's a tall, slim man of about fifty in an old-fashioned suit with a tailcoat, pinstriped trousers, a waistcoat and watch-chain. He has a moustache, and brown hair parted in the middle, a few inches long and styled neatly with a bit of a wave.

[2] Goran as Nikola Tesla gesturing towards a device I don't understand well enough to even describe except that it's two corrugated metal cylinders and electricity is arcing between them, blue and dramatic, while he gestures like a magician. His other hand is on a lever, his face obscured by a starburst of blue light.

[3] A close-up of Goran as Nikola Tesla with a lightbulb in the foreground gleaming with warm light. He's looking off-screen and smiling slightly, eyes large and grey-blue, eyebrows raised, creases in his forehead and around his mouth. He's wearing a butterscotch-yellow tie with a wing or tuxedo shirt collar.

[4] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola Tesla bent over a workbench doing something with a tool we only see as a faint gleam of metal. He's bent almost double, intent on his work, a curl of hair falling down above his forehead, his coat gone and his shirt sleeves rucked up to the elbow so that his arms are bare and evidently hairy. The scene's dark, lit only by a candle lamp.

[5] A view of Goran as Nikola Tesla looking at a figure mostly out of view, visible to us only as blonde hair at the side of the screen. Nikola's eyes are a little wide, his mouth slightly open, making him look bewildered, and perhaps wary - I thought of it as his "okay, either you or this situation is bonkers" face. His thumb is just visible at the bottom of the screen, suggesting he's gesturing or fidgeting with his hands.

[6] A view of Goran in a crowded street, no coat, standing almost a head taller than everyone else and gesturing with one hand in a way that signals frustration or defensiveness, his eyes closed, mouth open as he speaks. A few bowler hats are visible around him, and a few of Nikola's companions - Dorothy, a serious-faced woman of thirty or so with tightly curly hair and smart clothing; the Doctor, currently a woman with straight blonde hair looking curiously past Dorothy; and just a glimpse of Yasmin in the background in a flat blue hat.

[7] A side-on view of Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor and Goran as Nikola both paying rapt attention to a glowing green mechanical-looking ball in a dish, with the Doctor pointing her sonic screwdriver at it and Nikola bending down to watch at the opposite side of the desk, hands folded together as if he's fidgeting, intent on her work. The Doctor's in a long light grey coat with a hood, incongruous for the era, and it's clear she'd be a lot shorter than him if he weren't currently courting back pain.

[8] The same scene as before, minutes later - the Doctor only visible as blonde hair in the foreground, Nikola's face transformed like he's realised something wonderful, eyes on the Doctor and leaning forward slightly, or still leaning on the desk. His mouth is open as he talks, his eyes bright, skin creasing faintly at the corners with a real smile.

[9] The same scene as before, seconds later. Goran as Nikola is looking to the side, no longer smiling but serious and thoughtful.

[10] The same scene as before, seconds later. Nikola is looking back at the Doctor and raising his eyebrows in a question at something she said, his forehead creasing, his expression perhaps a little doubtful.

[11] A close-up of Goran as Nikola in a room with warmer and dimmer lighting, his hair coming loose a bit as short curls on his forehead, frowning as he talks to someone off-screen. The angle exaggerates his nose, emphasises the lines around his mouth.

[12] A different view of the scene, zoomed out. Nikola is bent over a worktable beside Yasmin, a young woman with curled hair and a smart navy-blue jacket, and they're looking at each other as though discussing a problem, Nikola folding or rubbing his hands together. The desk of a mess of wires and oddments, lit bulbs in metal cages and what might be the odd green ball from earlier.

[13] Nikola and Yasmin in a very different location, dimly lit, with strange red lights in the background and a green light over their faces. (They're on an alien spaceship.) Yasmin is looking down at the floor like she's stunned, mouth open, and Nikola is holding her arm like he's just pulled her back, but his eyes are on something or someone else we can't see. His eyes are wide, his expression startled and openly afraid.

[14] Nikola and Yasmin still on the spaceship, blurry machinery behind them, but Nikola is almost level with Yasmin now and they're standing close, both looking at a third party off-screen. Yasmin's expression is one of distaste and a little anger, and Nikola's eyebrows are drawn down, expression somewhere between bewildered and worried.

[15] A different scene, different lighting - deep blue in the background, warm light on Nikola's face. It's an odd angle, his head ducked as though looking at something, his expression serious.

[16] A different scene, perhaps daytime with electric lighting, Nikola in conversation with someone off-screen who's clearly shorter than him. His hair's a little disarrayed, eyebrows raised and forehead creased, but there's something of a smile to his eyes and his mouth that gentles it.

[17] The same scene, seconds later, slightly zoomed in. Nikola's eyebrows are lower, forehead still creased and eyes a little scrunched, like he doesn't understand yet what the other person means. There's something tender about it still.

[18] A different room, darker, Nikola grinning while the Doctor is mostly off-screen, just a little of her hair visible, except she's raising a hand for a high-five that he isn't reciprocating. Creases are splayed out from his eyes, deep ones around his mouth, his nose sharp from this angle.

[19] A different view of the high-five moment, focusing on the Doctor as she realises he doesn't know to reciprocate - the high-five wasn't invented yet - and starts to lower her hand. Her mouth is wide open, teeth showing, somewhere between a grin and talking, and her body language is open exuberance. The creases around Nikola's eyes are still very visible from this angle, though most of his face isn't.

[20] A view of Goran as Nikola with his eyes closed as if he's blocking something out, and a look of forbearance and faint frustration on his face.

[21] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola, a shorter man in the background and the TARDIS behind them both, its windows glowing white. Nikola's expression is determined and a little grim, more hair curling messily against his forehead.

[22] A view of Goran as Nikola outside, trees in the background, a blurry blue-white sky and what might be yellowish grass. He's wearing old-fashioned aviator goggles on his forehead, where they're pushing his hair up so it's even messier, and he's looking down at something with a troubled expression.

[23] A view of the Doctor and Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS, the scene awash in electric blue and peach-pink, and no other lighting. The Doctor's leant over the TARDIS controls doing something there and looking back at Nikola, who has picked up some sort of contraption and is looking down at it, expression either troubled or focused. The light on his face is blue, throwing his features into sharp and unflattering relief.

[24] A view of Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS still, the lighting blue, the angle of his shoulders suggesting his hands are on his hips, and his expression now one of open joy. His eyes are large, his mouth open and smiling slightly, soft creases on either side.

[25] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, looking with his head tilted at someone in the foreground - barely visible, except for the bowler hat. Nikola's expression is tolerant, a restrained smile with narrow eyes, and his hands are probably clasped behind his back.

[26] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, now talking to the Doctor, only the back of her head visible. Nikola's in the same pose as before, hands behind his back, only leaning slightly towards her now, his expression warm as he talks to her. The creases around his eyes are back, and it's another angle that emphasises his nose.

[27] The same view as before, only now Nikola's ducked his head, almost like he's shy, or needs a moment to collect himself. The creases have gone from his eyes, but the smile's still there at his mouth.

—

[nyhne]

APH - Il Lupo Rosso [PruAus], Chapter Eight

PruAus | (background Spamano, future GerIta) | finally rated M!!

READ IT ON AO3 (from the beginning)

Two years before Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig, moves to Minneapolis to pursue law school, and the events of Ristorante Rosso occur, a very important person walks into Gilbert's life. Unfortunately, that first meeting is far from ideal and Gilbert is still nursing the world's worst hangover while covering a shift on what's supposed to be his day off. Oh, and that important someone just happens to be a customer.

A PruAus-centered prequel to Ristorante Rosso, a human restaurant AU that takes place in Minneapolis. How Gilbert meets Roderich, becomes the "most kick-ass manager the restaurant has ever seen," and maybe, just maybe, learns that Ristorante Rosso is exactly where he's supposed to be.

---

Chapter Eight! Finally, the reason the fic is rated M! Also, this chapter includes the amazing accompanying illustration that I commissioned from @bubblyernie (posted HERE). I've had the finished commission for a while and have been very impatiently sitting on being able to post it ever since haha. Enjoy!!

Also as a reminder, I am currently taking Austria-centric kink meme-style fic requests so shoot me an ask!!

[amoremagnificentbastard]

I love how "normal" Diana is. She feels like a person who is very aware of what she's like and just wholeheartedly embraces it, no matter what. There is a particular kind of strength in a character who doesn't feel the need to constantly prove themselves, and I really appreciate that in everything I've seen of Diana so far.

YOU'RE SO FREAKING SWEET TO ME THANK YOU

[niofo]

yep, it me, the fool

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Maybe the real Final Fantasy IX Remake (and Final Fantasy Tactics Remaster) was the friends we made along the way.

[kagiura-akira]

different fanfic anon, just wanted to tell you your new fic was delicious 🫣 I loved their dynamic a lot and hirano's cpie kink has opened a third eye 👀 (censoring that in case you answer this and tumblr bans you...pls don't be shadowbanned lol)

Thank you!!! I really appreciate it anon 💖

[tacoguacamole]

COMPLETED JUNGKOOK FF RECOMMENDATIONS

Because I enjoy angst, here are some highly recommended reads:

ONE SHOTS

DECALCOMANIA 1 & 2 by floralseokjin

MATURE by jiminrings 

FIFTH WISH by jiminrings

HOW LONG WILL WE FALL by jiminrings

WHEN SHE LOVED ME by jungkookstatts

STOIC by blue-jade

LIKE YOU NEVER DID by bratkook 

THIS IS HOW YOU FALL IN LOVE by jeonqkooks 

STRICTLY PLATONIC by jeonqkooks

ONCE THE THRILL EXPIRES by alphabetboyluvr

A JAR FULL OF US by jincapableoflove 

SERIES

BITCHIN' by kinktae

HOTTER THAN HELL by chateautae

FOUR SEVEN EIGHT by jiminrings 

CRAZY OVER YOU by spideyjimin

[novaursa]

A Flame All Her Own

- Summary: Caraxes always knows how to snatch all your attention for himself. Which leaves Daemon jealous of his own dragon. 

- Pairing: sister!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: the bold and the beautiful

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The morning air is thick with the salt of the Narrow Sea as you stand by the cliff edge, Caraxes sprawled before you, his great, sinuous body stretched luxuriously along the rocks. His scales glisten, the deep crimson reflecting in the morning sun as his slitted eyes, always watchful, follow your every movement. The dragon’s head rests lazily beside you, large enough that one of his breaths could likely knock you off your feet, yet gentle as he huffs softly, nuzzling your hand as you scratch just beneath his horned jaw.

“You’re spoiling him,” comes Daemon’s voice from behind, laced with a tone that’s both disapproving and… sulking? You smirk without turning around, knowing full well what that look on his face must be: arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed, mouth drawn into that familiar pout that’s often mistaken for mere arrogance but, today, has a hint of jealousy.

“Am I?” you respond, your voice light with feigned innocence as you continue to scratch Caraxes. The dragon rumbles in pleasure, tilting his head like a hound angling for more affection. You can feel Daemon’s eyes drilling into your back, but you don’t let up, laughing softly as Caraxes leans closer, nearly knocking you sideways in his enthusiasm.

“Yes, you are,” Daemon steps closer, his dark cloak billowing slightly as he stands beside you, looking down at his dragon with mild disdain. “He’ll be insufferable now, demanding pets and scratches like some slobbering mutt.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” you tease, glancing at Daemon. “You’re as spoiled as Caraxes is.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow at the comparison, though a glimmer of amusement tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Spoiled, am I?”

Caraxes’s head shifts, his large, amber eyes drifting from you to his rider as if sensing Daemon’s displeasure. He rumbles again, a deep sound that vibrates the rock beneath your feet, and Daemon gives his dragon a flat look.

“Not you too, you great overgrown lizard,” Daemon mutters. “I am your rider, remember? Mine, not hers.”

Caraxes blinks slowly, looking almost unimpressed. You swear, for a brief moment, that the dragon’s gaze shifts back to you with what could only be called affection. It’s as if he’s saying, “Oh, but she’s my favorite.” You can’t help but laugh at Daemon’s expression.

“I think he’s simply decided that I give better scratches,” you say, grinning.

Daemon arches a brow, eyes glinting with a mixture of challenge and feigned affront. “Is that so?” He steps closer, nudging you out of the way so he can place a hand on Caraxes’s scales, patting his dragon’s neck with exaggerated enthusiasm. “You like me, don’t you, boy?” he asks, scratching roughly—too roughly, if Caraxes’s sudden flick of his tail and indignant huff are anything to go by.

“See?” you laugh, folding your arms as you watch with a smirk. “Gentleness, Daemon. Perhaps Caraxes prefers a softer touch.”

Daemon looks at you with a pointed glare. “Are you suggesting I’m not gentle?”

“Oh, Daemon, of course not,” you reply, lips twitching as you fight a smile. “You’re a Targaryen knight in shining armor.”

“Knight, indeed,” Daemon snorts, but there’s a glimmer of mirth in his eyes as he takes your bait. He shifts closer, one arm snaking around your waist, pulling you to him with a quick, possessive motion that sends a thrill down your spine. “Tell me, then. Should I be jealous of my own dragon? Or are you so starved for attention that you’ll take affection where you can get it?”

His words are laced with mock offense, but his hand holds you firmly, his thumb brushing against your waist in a way that belies his teasing tone.

“Jealous?” You raise a brow, feigning surprise. “Of Caraxes?”

He leans closer, voice dropping to a murmur. “Perhaps I ought to start breathing fire to gain your favor, then.”

You tilt your head, amused by the thought. “Imagine how well that would go at court,” you muse. “The Rogue Prince, reduced to petty flames for his sister’s affection.”

Daemon chuckles, the sound warm and rumbling, yet his hand on your waist tightens. “I’d reduce more than just my pride to flames if it meant keeping your attention on me.”

Caraxes huffs suddenly, a low rumble that sounds suspiciously like laughter, if a dragon could laugh. He lowers his head to nose at your shoulder, nudging Daemon’s hand away in the process as if to say, “She’s mine, actually.” You burst out laughing, leaning into Caraxes’s scaled cheek, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin.

“Seems like he’s made his choice,” you say with a sly smile, watching Daemon’s face flicker between exasperation and humor.

“Oh, has he?” Daemon drawls, arching a brow as he watches you and Caraxes, clearly unimpressed. “Well, perhaps I should be jealous, then. I might have to fight him for your favor.”

You laugh, raising a hand to smooth over Daemon’s arm. “Poor Daemon,” you tease, your tone laced with affection. “Unseated by your own dragon.”

He rolls his eyes, though the warmth in his gaze softens his expression. “If Caraxes intends to keep you for himself, he should remember who his true rider is.”

Caraxes turns his head slightly, eyeing Daemon with a look that, impossibly, feels smug. You laugh again, patting the dragon’s neck in reassurance. “Don’t worry, Caraxes. There’s room enough for both of you.”

Daemon grunts, slipping an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer as he casts a sidelong glance at Caraxes. “You’re lucky I tolerate you, you red menace,” he mutters, though the fondness in his voice is unmistakable.

The dragon lets out a huff, almost as if he’s rolling his eyes, and settles his head back down, clearly satisfied with his small victory. And as you lean into Daemon’s side, his arm wrapped securely around you, you catch the slight smile on his lips. For all his talk, the Rogue Prince is more than happy to share your affections—even if it means indulging in a rivalry with his own dragon.

[yena-enha]

hi can I request to you for a ff a Jay ff brothers best friend

Of course Sweetheart. Here.

𝐒𝐡𝐡 - 𝐏𝐉𝐒

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Warning - Rough sex, unprotected sex, degradation, light choking, semi-public (in the house with others), profanity, creaky bed, brother’s best friend trope, dirty talk, risk of getting caught.

Note - MDNI (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)/INTERACT AT YOUR OWN RISK/NSFW Content

Genre - Smut, Forbidden, Rough Sex

Pairing - Jay x Fem!Reader

Song Inspiration - "Touch It (Remix)" by Busta Rhymes ft. Mary J. Blige, Lloyd Banks, DMX, Missy Elliott

Word Count - 1,200 Words

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You knew this was a bad idea the second Jay followed you into your bedroom.

Sunghoon was in the shower, music playing loud through the speaker like it always was when he spent too long in there. You’d rolled your eyes and escaped to your room, expecting Jay to stay put in the living room. But then the door clicked shut behind you. Locked.

Now Jay had you bent over the edge of your bed, pants down to your thighs, one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip like he owned you.

“You gonna be good and quiet for me?” he hissed against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. “Your brother’s in the next room.”

“Fuck, Jay—”

That was all you got out before he shoved his cock back inside you, hard and fast. You bit into the pillow under you, muffling the moan that threatened to break you.

Jay was brutal. Deep, fast thrusts that made the bed frame squeak dangerously. Your thighs shook with the effort of staying still, of staying quiet. But he didn’t make it easy. He grunted softly, low and pleased, watching your back arch as he bottomed out again.

“Such a filthy little sister,” he growled. “Letting your brother’s best friend fuck you like this. God—so fucking tight.”

Your hands gripped the sheets, nails clawing at them as he hit that spot over and over. You bit back a cry, teeth sinking into the fabric.

Jay smirked behind you, hand sliding up your spine until it wrapped around your throat. “Don’t you dare cum yet,” he whispered, thrusts slowing just to tease you. “You’ll cum when I say.”

You nodded frantically, tears prickling your eyes as the edge teased you cruelly. He leaned over you, breath hot at your ear.

“If you make a sound, I’ll make you ride me on your brother’s bed next time.”

The thrill of risk, the fear, the ache of being denied—it only made it worse. You felt your walls tighten again.

Jay growled. “God, you like that? You like being my dirty little secret?”

You whimpered, muffled into your pillow, and he slammed into you again.

“I said. Be. Quiet.”

He fucked you hard, rhythm relentless, sweat beading at your back. Your legs nearly gave out, but Jay held you firm, slapping your ass hard enough to make you gasp.

“Jay—please—!”

That slip-up earned you a hand over your mouth, fingers pressing tight. “I warned you,” he muttered darkly. “Now take it. Be a good girl and take every fucking inch.”

Your orgasm hit violently, body trembling under his grip, stars exploding behind your eyes. You moaned into his palm, writhing as he kept going, chasing his own high.

A few more thrusts and he buried himself deep with a growl, spilling inside you as your walls clenched around him. He stayed still for a moment, catching his breath.

Then—

The water shut off in the bathroom.

Your eyes went wide.

Jay grinned, pulling out slowly, cum dripping between your thighs.

He zipped up, leaned down, and kissed your shoulder.

“Better clean up fast,” he whispered smugly. “Unless you want Sunghoon to see exactly what a little slut his sister is.”

And then he was gone—door unlocked, hallway silent. Like nothing had happened.

Except your legs were still shaking.

And your sheets were ruined.

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«Masterlist || Introduction»

Taglist» @strxwbloody

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[sh4nksslvt]

Confined Hearts

A routine supply run turns chaotic when you and Law get trapped below deck — but maybe being stuck alone isn't such a bad thing after all.

Law X gn! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, secret relationship, trapped a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The steady hum of the Polar Tang was strangely comforting. Somewhere above, the Heart Pirates went about their usual routines: cleaning, charting, fixing whatever needed fixing after their last chaotic encounter with a Sea King. You lounged lazily against a stack of crates in the storage bay, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you watched Trafalgar Law pick through supplies, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance.

He looked… good. Way too good for your heart to handle.

Denim jeans that hung low on his hips, simple white t-shirt slightly damp from the humidity, his tattoos curling like secret messages down his arms and up his throat. You tried not to stare, but it was hard when you knew just how warm and soft that skin was under your fingers.

Not that anyone else could know. Not that the crew — bless their oblivious souls — had the faintest idea.

Being in a secret relationship with your stoic, sharp-tongued Captain was its own kind of dangerous thrill. One wrong move, one wrong look, and Shachi or Penguin would never let you live it down.

Law glanced over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

"You planning to help, or just stand there like a useless lump?"

You snorted. "Bold talk from a guy who's been glaring at the same box for five minutes."

"Planning," he drawled, straightening up and cracking his neck. "Unlike you, who specializes in doing absolutely nothing."

You tossed a rag at his head. He dodged it with irritating ease, a faint smirk flashing across his mouth before it disappeared into his usual deadpan stare.

You fought a grin. God, you loved being able to push his buttons.

"Fine, Captain," you said dramatically, hopping off the crate. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do everything in my power to serve you."

There was the tiniest flicker in his expression — a shift only you would notice. The kind that made your stomach flutter and your mind race with all the things you could do if you weren't surrounded by supplies and crates and the whole damn crew upstairs.

Law turned back to the stack, voice low enough that you almost missed it. "Later," he murmured. "If you're good."

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard and tried to act normal.

You really, really hoped no one was coming down here anytime soon.

.

.

The moment it happened, it was pure chaos.

One second you were moving a particularly heavy crate like Law asked — the next, the ship rocked violently. Somewhere far above, there was a muffled shout and the shriek of metal. The crate slipped from your grip, slamming into the wall with a loud THUD.

Before you could react, the heavy storage door — that was supposed to stay propped open — swung shut with a bone-shaking bang.

You froze.

Law cursed under his breath, lunging for the handle. You rushed to help him, heart hammering in your chest.

He yanked on it. You yanked on it. Nothing.

"Locked," he growled, rattling it harder. "Dammit."

"No way." You shoved at the door uselessly. "We're stuck?!"

Law's face was grim. He jiggled the handle again, then pulled a Den Den Mushi out of his pocket. Static crackled. No signal.

"Great," you muttered. "Metal walls. Thick metal walls. We're basically in a fridge."

"It's temporary," Law said, though even he sounded annoyed. "Someone will notice we're missing."

"Yeah, after they realize we’re not up there helping fix whatever the hell broke!"

You leaned against the door, groaning. Being stuck alone with your secret boyfriend was not the worst thing in the world. But being stuck with Law, who was a menace when he got bored? Dangerous.

You felt his eyes on you and cracked one open.

"What?"

He was studying you in that way he did sometimes — silent, sharp, as if he was dissecting your entire existence.

"You panicking already?"

You huffed. "No. Just… strategizing."

"Mm."

You shifted awkwardly. "And you? Cool as a cucumber, huh?"

He shrugged. "Trapped with you? Could be worse."

You blinked, thrown off by the softness in his voice.

You opened your mouth to reply — but then he moved, striding toward you with that slow, deliberate gait that meant trouble. The kind that usually ended with you pressed against a wall, dizzy and breathless and wondering how a man so outwardly composed could make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Law stopped inches away, tilting his head slightly.

"No crew," he said lowly. "No interruptions."

Your pulse spiked. "Y-Yeah?"

He smirked — slow, devilish, rare.

"An advantage."

.

. Before you could react, Law's hand was sliding up your arm, slow and deliberate, sending sparks shooting across your skin. His other hand braced next to your head, caging you in.

"Cold?" he murmured.

"A little," you managed, your voice breathy.

He leaned in closer, nose brushing your temple, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Good," he whispered.

You shivered, and not just from the temperature.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and you closed your eyes, savoring the rare moment. Law wasn't usually this openly affectionate — not where anyone could see. But here, with only the dim overhead lights and the smell of metal and salt around you, he was different. Softer. Greedier.

"You smell like engine grease," you teased, voice shaking.

He chuckled — a low, rare sound — and nipped lightly at your earlobe.

"Not complaining when you're the one who started this."

You laughed — and Law grinned, wide and boyish, before capturing your mouth in a kiss that stole every coherent thought from your head.

God, he kissed like he owned you. Deep, slow, unhurried. Like you had all the time in the world.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the solid weight of him against you. His hands skimmed down your sides, lingering at your waist, before sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest against bare skin. You gasped softly against his mouth.

"Law…" you murmured.

He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, tender.

"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.

You nodded. "More than okay."

He kissed you again, softer this time. Almost reverent.

Minutes slipped by — slow, honey-thick minutes where all you could feel was the heat of his mouth, the calluses of his fingers, the way his heart thudded against yours.

Eventually, you broke apart, resting your forehead against his.

"I can't believe we're stuck," you whispered, laughing a little.

He smirked. "Best damn accident this ship's ever had."

You laughed again, biting your lip.

Law tilted his head, studying you. "You think the crew suspects?"

You thought about it. "Honestly? They're either oblivious or think we're mortal enemies."

Law hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe we should give them a real show after this."

You gawked at him. "You? Public affection?"

He shrugged. "Shock value."

You grinned wide. "You're evil."

"And you love it."

"Yeah," you said, softer now. "I do."

Something shifted between you — something heavier, more real. Law's expression softened. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gentle in a way he never was with anyone else.

"I love you too," he said simply.

Your breath caught.

Law rarely said it. He didn’t have to — you saw it in every careful look, every small touch, every stolen moment. But hearing it out loud still sent warmth flooding through you.

You cupped his face, smiling.

"Guess being trapped isn't so bad," you said.

He kissed your palm.

"No," he agreed. "Not bad at all."

.

. Hours later, when Shachi and Penguin finally managed to force the door open — sweaty, out of breath, and triumphant — they found you and Law sitting side-by-side on the floor, looking suspiciously flushed and suspiciously content.

"Uh, Captain..." Shachi said, blinking. "Everything good?"

Law stood up smoothly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Fine," he said blandly. "Just trapped."

You fought the urge to giggle.

Penguin narrowed his eyes. "You two sure you didn’t kill each other?"

Law smirked — a private, dangerous thing — and tossed an arm around your shoulders with casual ease.

"Not yet," he said.

You caught the startled looks the two crewmates exchanged — and laughed all the way back to your shared cabin, tucked securely against Law’s side.

Maybe being trapped wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[sitp-recs]

Go, Ravens!

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt Ravens

~390 words. Unbetaed. Hope it makes sense!

*****

‘GO, RAVENS!’ the crowd yelled as the Wroxton Ravens Chaser sped towards the Bristol Buzzards goalpost, dodged a bludger, feinted towards the right, swerved left — and scored.

Draco winced and pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. His head was throbbing. His champagne tasted flat. The hors d’oeuvres he’d ordered for his private box had never looked less appetizing. Ammar had scored a hat trick in under ten minutes and all because the owner of the Ravens, Harry bloody Potter, had signed up this extraordinary talent from Tunisia mere minutes before Draco had Apparated in Ben Arous with his lawyers and a contract.

‘Is— Is the Ravens mascot waving at you?’ Lady Branbury asked. Draco had invited some of the shareholders to watch the game; a decision he now regretted. He’d caught Sir Helmford’s whispers about the coach’s incompetence, and the unsaid recriminations towards the person who’d hired said coach: Draco.

Lady Branbury approached the edge of the box, head tilted to the sky. ‘Now he’s blowing kisses at you. Do you know him?’

‘No one knows who the Ravens mascot is,’ Theo drawled from the fawn-coloured sofa. He had no trouble consuming any of the champagne or the tiny salmon and roast duck canapes, but, then again, he wasn’t the owner of the team getting thrashed in the biggest match of the season. ‘It’s the deepest secret in the League. There’s a three-year-long wager in the bookies that will make someone very rich when the secret is out.’

Draco scoffed. He’d known from day one who the imbecile who took to the sky as his team’s mascot was — he’d seen him fly so often and had watched him so closely in the past. It was clear as day, and he’d no idea how no one else recognised him.

The Ravens mascot flew low, hovering outside Draco’s box. ‘Is that… dancing?’ Lady Branbury asked.

‘It isn’t.’ Theo laughed. ‘They want to show they’re fucking us. Pardon my language, Lady Branbury.’

Draco watched the black feathery git end his obscene display and float towards the Ravens fans. No, he thought, the big secret wasn’t the identity of their mascot. The big secret was what happened the night after the Ravens and Buzzards played against each other: the owner of the winning team got to top.

It made losing not so hard to bear, after all.

******

my microfics

[kelltonic]

Defences ★彡

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x Reader

Description: While at the hard deck with the other daggers, Mickey - your boyfriend - get’s heavily flirted on by a stranger when you’re not around, and he is never more committed to shut someone down.

Warnings: Alcohol/Drunkenness, very light sexual harassment (fem on man). Canon-typical asshole Hangman. I love Reuben. Fanboy is a sweetheart. Other than that it’s just an established relationship and fluff. No use of y/n.

WC: 1,500

A/N: Guys if you want more Mickey (or any top gun) PLEASE request - I have been struggling for ideas lol - even if it’s just another version of an already made fanfiction with a different character, or a headcanons prompt!! - ALSO for anyone who read my prev a/n on my other fanboy ff, I GOT 100% ON MY ENGLISH EXAM!!! I actually started tweaking out (it was creative writing). We don't talk about my other exams though.

“Oh come on!” Mickey groaned while throwing his arms in the air, physically complaining over the miss he just hit in pool. “The tables gotta be uneven or something.” He said, mostly jokingly.

"Don't be bitter that I'm just better." Reuben shrugged, flashing a cocky smile to tease his best friend with.

After a long day of flying, most of the squadron retired to the most familiar place on base, the Hard Deck. A comforting yet bustling bar that welcomed naval aviators with open arms.

"Now that's funny-" Fanboy was about to start, but was quickly cut off by that oh so familiar southern drawl.

"Boys, boys, let me show you how a real man shoots." Hangman mocked, condescendingly snatching the pool cue out of Fanboy's hands while simultaneously shooting a wink to one of the many attractive women scattered around the bar. Payback's face formed a frustrated expression as he leaned back to watch what Hangman would do. Hangman did this more than anyone would like. Preferably, he'd never interrupt the games for some silly flirting exercise, but something about Jake couldn't live without the thrill of the tease.

Fanboy was about the opposite, despite what his callsign may allude. Sure, before he met you, he would throw around a few pick up lines and enjoy the spotlight whenever a pretty girl noticed him. But now? He is duller than a rock if someone tries to get a piece of him. You're his favourite person in the entire world, and he makes sure you know it - as long as you promise not to tell Reuben. He can't have another passive-aggressive flight because Reuben decided to teach him how significant of a role he plays in Mickey's life. He would rather jump out of his plane mid flight than let you think you meant anything less to him.

So when the girl Hangman had been flirting with had finally approached him with her friends who had been giggling like hyenas at the squadron the entire night, he just went to get another round.

He looked back from the bar to see the girls clinging to various daggers while waiting for the drinks, chuckling at the sight of Reuben getting surrounded. He didn't think anything of it until one of them separated and began approaching him.

But he didn't want to assume anything, she may just be coming to do the same thing as him.

"Hey handsome." She giggled, leaning against the bar next to Fanboy. Welp, there goes the lack of assumption.

"Hi." He responded bluntly, giving a brief polite yet not hinting smile. All that warranted was a giggly and flirtatious response.

"Come here often?" She said, clearly a little tipsy if not anything further. She scooted closer to him, practically brushing him. As much as he wanted to make space between him, the bar was particularly crowded and he honestly didn't want to bother the aviator directly behind him.

"Yeah a bit, most of us frequent this bar the most." He said with a dry sigh, averting eye contact. He couldn't help but wish Penny sped up with the drinks, but he would never in any lifetime say that to her and face her (and Maverick's) wrath.

"Come on pretty boy, loosen up." She giggled while gripping his arm, trying to push their bodies flush together.

"Okay no thank you." He quickly spoke, lightly pushing her away. He was uncomfortable, and couldn't help but feel guilty despite the fact he had done nothing wrong. "I have a girlfriend." He stated, easily plying her hand off his arm.

"Is she here?" She said while staring into his eyes playfully, unbothered by the physical signs he was presenting.

"No?" He said, puzzled by her persistence.

"Then she doesn't have to know." She responded while trying to close the distance again.

"Here ya go." Penny interrupted with a small smile, placing a tray of various alcoholic beverages in front of them before dashing off to another patron. all Mickey could think was 'oh thank goodness' as Penny saved him from this uncomfortable and awkward encounter.

He grabbed the drink tray and flashed the girl a small, awkward smile as he sped walk to the full group again.

"Ayy!!" Reuben and various others bellowed, grateful to see another wave of drinks. "Our saviour." He joked, taking a beer.

"On land and sky." Mickey responded, placing the tray down while grabbing himself a beer. It only took a few awkward shuffles from Mickey for Reuben to detect something was off, despite his current state.

"You good?" He asked with a smile, tilting his head as he carefully watched Mickey's reaction.

"Yeah, yeah, I just feel... dirty." Mickey murmured, the guilt of another woman's attraction to him weighing on him like an elephant.

"Dirty? Or like.. dirty." Reuben repeated, shifting from a playful to serious tone.

"Dirty." Mickey echoed, reaching for his phone in his back pocket. "...One of the girls was flirting with me. Hard." He elaborated.

"Since when was that a bad thing?" Reuben scoffed, before a wave of realisation hit him. "Ohhh... right, okay." A neutral tone flowing through his voice. It only took a second for a puzzled expression to take over his face. Mickey had to admit one thing, Reuben was one of the most expressive people he's ever met.

"So... why do you feel bad?" He mocked, a slight laugh leaving his mouth. "You didn't flirt back.. right?" Reuben questioned. He knew how utterly enamoured Mickey was with you, he had to get his callsign from somewhere. But he couldn't help but seek clarification.

"No!" Mickey swiftly reacted after taking a gulp of his beer, a frankly offended expression covering his face.

"...." Reuben just stared, a little dumbfounded at Mickey's loyalty policies. Despite a hint of respect also developing, he couldn't help but laugh at Mickey's commitment to you. And his standards for what counts as something he should feel guilty for or not. However, Reuben was also observant. Even if he wasn't, it would still be easy to tell how sad the thought of someone else flirting with Mickey made him. Someone other than you. But his trance was interrupted by an exaggerated sigh.

"Okay, look. I'm only ever going to say this once, so listen up." Reuben began, placing his beer down as he forced eye contact with Mickey. Landing a hand on his shoulder, he groaned as he realised what he was about to say and the possibility of Mickey never letting him live it down. "You're attractive. Really damn hot, man. Both physically and personality wise. You have good energy and people are naturally drawn to your confidence and kindness. So you're gonna have to get used to the idea of people, women included, approaching you and flirting." Reuben stated, more teaching than hyping.

Mickey was conflicted between smiling and teasing Reuben. "Come on man, that's the nicest thing you've said to me." He said with a chuckle as his shoulders dropped and his gave Reuben a quick hug before he potentially got bitch slapped by him.

"Okay off." Reuben scolded, pushing Mickey off of him with a forced groan.

"...I'm still gonna call her though." Mickey quickly ushered while typing in your contact on his phone, which just elicited a 'why do I even try' motion from Reuben as he walked away.

Your phone rang a couple times before you got the chance to pick it up, busy with an email.

"Hello?" you spoke seriously, forgetting to check the caller ID.

"Babe!!" Mickey spoke, excited to hear your voice. He always sounded ecstatic whenever you two spoke.

"Hey baby, what's up?" You spoke warmly, a complete shift from your initial greeting.

"I just wanted to tell you I love you more than anything in the entire world. Even flying." Mickey spoke quickly, not for a lack of authenticity.

"I love you too... why are you calling to tell me this?" You said with a small chuckle, it wasn't uncommon for Mickey to randomly declare his love, especially over the phone due to distance. It was however rare for him to do it at this late hour.

"Some girl was flirting with me. BUT! I didn't at all entertain it for a second." Mickey emphasised, he was only slightly tipsy but the honesty made you giggle. You would never in a million years have to worry about his loyalty, and this is one of the reasons.

"Well I appreciate that." You responded softly, the yearning for his presence briefly satiated by his voice. All you could hear on the other end of the line was a low giggle, as far as you could tell he could very well be twirling his (non-existent) hair and kicking his feet.

"I miss you sweetie." You whispered with a gentle desire from the heart.

"I do too, but you'll never guess what Reuben said to me." Mickey said with a chuckle, you could practically hear his smile, and his longing.

A/N: Bit of a corny ending but I didn't know what else to do lmao.

Started: 12:00am Sunday 22nd of June Ended: 8:00pm Thursday 26th of June

[huhmiya]

MY DIARY | chris sturniolo

pairing: roomate!chris x f!reader

summary: you're in college with a roommate, and one day while you're out with friends and he's alone, he stumbles upon a book that grabs his attention.

warning: smut, unprotect sex, sub!chris, pet names (baby, good boy, mommy), handjob, use of y/n, swearing, hair pulling, p in v, teasing, palming, mommy kink, mention of birth control

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. I finally had motivationnn

WORDS: 2.2k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange

-

Your dorm has been a bit messy lately because you haven't had time to clean, and Chris never seemed to tidy up either which was normal for both of you.

You've been spending time with your friends and going out at night, and Chris has been doing the same, just not as frequently as you since he sometimes prefers to chill.

At the moment, you're hanging out with two close friends, but your phone is dead so no one can reach you.

You're feeling a bit sober today after a night of drinking, but you're still in good spirits and not giving it much thought.

You were at your friend's house, and even though your phone is dead, Chris somehow knows your whereabouts.. almost as if he has you under surveillance.

Although you two aren't dating and he doesn't know a lot about you.

It seems like he's fixated on you though, almost to the point of obsession, but he doesn't actually have a camera on you which is more surprising.

He had a huge crush on you, to the point where it made him feel like he was losing his mind, but he never acted on it.

The music playing in the house was more in line with what you and your friends usually enjoyed. While your phone was charging and you were relaxing, you knew you needed to leave soon, even though you hadn't planned on it.

Meanwhile, Chris was curiously exploring the room, especially your drawers. He wanted to learn more about you without having to ask directly. He realized this wasn't the best approach and felt a bit guilty about it, but he proceeded anyway.

He came across a book and quickly opened it, only to discover it was your diary. It dawned on him that you always wrote in it at night.

Respecting your privacy, he put it back, but then impulsively picked it up again. Lying on your bed, surrounded by the subtle scent of your perfume, he smiled before starting to read the pages.

His eyes scanned the paper, absorbing the details of everything you did and what happened. He skimmed through most of it until he reached the part about you being in college.

His body tensed as he read your thoughts on him—how you found him annoying, which he always knew but he was surprised to discover that you also thought he was good looking and had a great personality.

He smirked as he continued reading, losing track of time but not minding at all. He had completely forgotten that you were on your way back.

The way you described him made his heart race, it thrilled him to know that someone he really liked thought he was attractive and a great guy.

He started to palm himself slowly as he continued reading, trying to relieve some of the tension as he became more aroused.

Meanwhile, you had been waiting for half an hour and decided to take a taxi back. With only your phone in hand and it being late, you just wanted to get home as soon as possible so you texted Chris.

y/n

- chris can you leave the door unlock

- I'm five minutes away

- I think I forgot my keys at my friends house ffs

You were nearly at your destination, completely unaware of what Chris was doing..

The ride though was quiet and peaceful, as it was late at night. Your roommate still hadn't messaged you, which was a bit annoying, but you didn't let it bother you too much.

Meanwhile, Chris was getting more intense as he continued to read. He started to understand all the things you thought about him, even down to the more adventurous details.

"I thought you hated me, y/n," he whispered to himself, reading further until he reached the entry dated April 12th, which was just yesterday, since you hadn't written anything new today.

He began to stroke himself as he set the book down beside him, closing his eyes and imagining all the things he wanted to do with you. Knowing what you truly thought of him only boosted his confidence.

As for you, you were searching for your keys after getting out of the taxi, hoping you had them since you assumed he was asleep. He hadn't replied to your text, and you didn't want to wake him up.

As you slowly walked to the door, you chuckled to yourself upon spotting your keys buried at the bottom of your handbag. You fished them out before opening the door.

Chris didn't have a chance to move. When he heard the door open, he froze. There was nowhere to hide his boner since your bed was neatly made, and his boxers were around his ankles.

Your eyes met his, then quickly took in the situation. He was lying on your bed with your diary next to him.

"WHAT THE HELL, CHRIS?" You were more upset about him reading your diary, finding it even more embarrassing than catching him in the act on your bed. It just added to the awkwardness of the whole situation.

Chris was at a loss for words, but he tried. He looked away, hurriedly pulling up his boxers, frustrated that he couldn't finish but knowing he was to blame.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said softly, just loud enough for you to hear, hoping the term of endearment might make things even slightly better.

You glared at him, feeling a bit tipsy already. You placed your handbag down as he got off your bed.

"Don't move. Get back on my bed," you said firmly, prompting him to listen and lay back down.

"Why did you read my diary?" you asked Chris, locking eyes with his blue gaze. He hesitated before answering, his heart racing perhaps from desire, or perhaps because you looked stunning.

"I thought you hated me, but I wanted to know you better. I figured reading your diary might help," he whispered, biting his lip slightly, aware that his excuse was weak but truthful.

"Are you kidding me?" you muttered, mostly to yourself, but he heard, and it left him silent and to look away.

Unbothered, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his hair to force eye contact.

"You were too scared to get to know me, so you snooped through my stuff?" you asked, annoyed. You could feel his arousal against you, still evident from earlier.

"I'm sorry, mommy," he replied, which made you pause for a moment. Although you've been called that before, in this context, it felt a bit unusual, yet it didn't bother you.. you just knew you had to get use to being called that since this will be happening more than once.

"You better be," you whispered before kissing him on the lips. Despite your lingering annoyance, you tried to let it go.

He placed his hands on your back, pulling you closer to his body, and kissed you back almost immediately.

You traced your tongue along his lips as if guiding him, and he mimicked every movement each time your lips shifted position slightly.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he whispered, his warm breath mingling with yours. "P-please forgive me for reading your diary," he whispered again, pulling you even closer.

You pulled away, causing him to whimper softly, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. "I forgive you," you whispered back, gently wiping a smudge of lipstick from his lips. He didn't seem to mind, knowing it was from you.

His heart skipped a beat, he was thrilled that you had forgiven him, but his desire was overwhelming. He made sure you were aware of his arousal, pressing himself firmly against your leg, the friction eliciting a soft moan from him.

"Please, mommy, just fuck me," he pleaded, his eyes shining in the light as he gazed up at you from below.

Your hand slipped into his boxers, causing him to bite his lip again, watching intently as your hand moved.

He felt your hand wrap around him, your touch slow and deliberate, causing him to twitch as he closed his eyes, finally feeling the friction he craved.

"Just like that," he sighed in satisfaction, his hands gliding along your hips to your backside as you continued to tease him. His hands were warm and slightly sweaty from the anticipation.

You paused, making him look at you with longing, leaving him on the brink. You could tell his legs would be moving more if you weren't seated on them, as you had been on his lap before you started stroking him.

"Why stop..." he asked, maintaining strong eye contact as you chuckled softly, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "You think you're just going to get it all? I'm still annoyed that you read my diary," you replied.

He groaned, prompting you to kiss his jawline. "Maybe if you're a good boy next time, you'll get what you want," you teased.

You slowly removed your clothes, his eyes fixed on your body. He never imagined this day would come, and now he's feeling like a nervous teenager, despite being well past those years.

As you gradually undressed until your breasts were exposed and you were left in your lacy underwear, he was captivated.

He wasn't concerned about your body shape or anything superficial, he cared deeply about you. Even if it didn't always seem that way, he had been fond of you for so long that your appearance didn't matter to him.

"Absolutely stunning..." he whispered, his hands gently exploring your body before you slipped off your underwear. His mouth watered, though he tried to hide it, not wanting to appear like he was only interested in your body.

The truth was, he had desired this moment for ages, and now it was happening with the girl he had always liked and been infatuated with.

"Handsome," you replied, glancing at him and then at his arousal. His eyes lingered on your body a bit longer before meeting your gaze. "Do I need to use a condom?" he asked. He was open to it if necessary, but he certainly preferred not to.

"I'm on birth control, so we should be fine," you assured him, bringing a smile to his face as he realized he didn't need to use protection.

You adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position before guiding him inside you. His eyes widened at the sensation of your warmth enveloping him, and he couldn't help but moan.

"Oh, shit," he murmured, repeating it a few times before closing his eyes with his mouth slightly open. You winced a bit, adjusting to his size, which was much larger than you had anticipated.

He gently rubbed your hips to ease your discomfort, and you noticed his veiny hands and long fingers, which sparked thoughts of more intimate possibilities for the future.

"Take it slow if you need to, mommy," he whispered, concerned about not wanting you to hurt yourself while riding him. You nodded, gradually getting used to his size as you moved slowly.

Your sounds of discomfort shifted into moans, and he grew louder and louder. You didn't mind, nor did you care if others overheard.

"Oh, Mommy..." he whispered as you moved faster, his nails pressing into your hips, though it didn't bother you. His eyes were locked on yours, then on your breasts as they bounced.

He was so unused to this, having only imagined it before. Now, he was just thrilled it was happening, not wanting the moment to end. He loved how well you knew how to bring him closer.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, his sweet sounds escaping his lips as he moaned your name.

"I'm close," you murmured, drawing his gaze to your lips before meeting your eyes. "Me too," he replied, capturing your lips in a kiss, which you returned.

His hands guided you to grind on him, offering some help as the two of you began to make out again.

The taste of his mouth was a mixture of him and raspberries, thanks to the ones he'd eaten. Kissing him was so enjoyable, something you always wanted but never admitted though he knows now, having read your diary.

You felt him twitch inside you, signaling how close he was. You gave him a warning before your own release coated him, causing him to squirm slightly and find his own climax. The mix of both your releases began to drip as he remained inside you.

"Fuck," he moaned loudly, while you tried to stifle your own sounds, aware of the neighbors. You didn't mind them hearing before, but now you hoped they wouldn't complain.

Afterward, you both lay side by side on your bed. He glanced down at himself, observing the evidence of your shared experience, then turned to embrace you.

"Baby..." he whispered softly in your ear, his stubbled beard brushing against your neck. "Yeah?" you replied, breathless and feeling the effort of speaking.

"I've always liked you... even before I read your diary. I want to ask you... Would you like to date?" he inquired.

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[vintagerpg]

Most if not all the Fighting Fantasy gamebooks have hype copy on the cover that says, “A thrilling fantasy adventure in which YOU are the hero!” Creature of Havoc (1986) has that copy too, but it is the one time (that I can recall, at least) where it is fibbing. You are not a hero. You are a horrible creature, mutated, without identity and driven only by instinct (though, honestly, I am not 100% sure you’re the titular creature). This makes Havoc pretty unique in the series (only the time loop of Black Vein Prophecy exhibits a similar mechanical boldness) and makes for a complex and difficult playthrough.

So, monster that is constantly changing and evolving. Initially, you are driven by instinct, which means you make rolls to determine where you go. Once reason takes hold, you need to figure out language, which involved breaking a code (and kind of reminds me of The 13th Warrior in the way speech slowly becomes comprehensible). Then you need to escape. That involves secret passages, which can be discovered by adding 20 to the paragraph number when you’re in the right spot. You kill some adventurers along the way (combat in this book, with your claws and bulk and spines and, uh, appetite for flesh, is both bracing and gruesome). Eventually, you confront the sorcerer who made you this way — Zharradan Marr, the handsome gent on Ian Miller’s fantastic cover — find out the truth about your identity and, presumably, kick his ass into the netherworld (where he continues to make trouble for the world, as detailed in The Trolltooth Wars novel). Alan Langford delivers art and it is fine, but this is maybe the only time I will ever say this: the art is secondary to the experience of playing through this book.

All in all, conceptually and mechanically, a performance that is difficult to impossible to top. Clearly, since it is the last FF book that Steve Jackson wrote.