#also six is a very low number !! it was hard :(

[simpforrooster]

a very important meeting.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: you're on your way to your office when you get stuck in the elevator with the most annoying naval aviator.

t/w: cursing, some sensual material ahead, getting stuck in elevators

The elevator doors open, revealing a fighter pilot inside. Your stomach drops to your feet as you take in your worst nightmare. For a split second, you consider turning around and hiking it up 8 flights of stairs, but resign and join the pilot. 

He watches you settle into the opposite corner from him. You pull out your phone, deciding to ignore him during the quick ride up to your office. 

Bradley Bradshaw clearly has other ideas. “Hey, y/n,” he taunts. 

“Hi, Chicken,” you reply, not looking up from your phone. 

“It’s Rooster,” he corrects, those brown eyes staring a hole through the side of your head. 

“It’s cute that you think I care,” you tell him, sliding your phone into your work bag. The elevator numbers climb up past two. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five. 

Six. 

The sound of the elevator stopping between floors sends a new kind of dread through your body. The elevator lurches, throwing you into Bradshaw. His strong arms wrap around your waist, steadying you. You don’t miss the way he keeps them on you a second longer than he should. 

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” he asks, his voice low. 

“Other than the fact that this is my worst nightmare, nope.” 

Rooster grins. 

“You’re insufferable,” you tell him, pushing him away from you. He answers you with his annoying laugh that you secretly love. 

Rooster reaches around you and presses the emergency button. Never taking his eyes off you, he tells the attendant about the mishap. Fear overtakes you as she tells Rooster it may be a few hours until they can get the elevator working again. 

“Guess we better get comfortable,” Rooster says. He slides down to the ground and pats the spot next to him. 

“You don’t have to pretend to like me right now, Bradley,” you say, sitting opposite of him. “This is torture enough.” 

A strange look passes over his face. 

The two of you barely tolerate one another, and it’s been this way for years. You can’t pinpoint exactly what caused the tension between the two of you. You also can’t pinpoint exactly when that animosity turned more toward flirting. Or when you looked at Rooster one day and decided that he was probably the most handsome man in the Navy. 

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs. 

“I'm stuck in an elevator with you, of course I’m nervous. What if I hurt you?” you say, trying to lighten the mood. This makes his lip pull up in the corner. 

Rooster stands, coming over to where you’re sitting. “Well, I’m nervous for a whole other reason. What if I kiss you?” He takes his hand in yours and pulls you up.

“You don’t mean that,” you whisper. 

“Oh come on, y/n. I flirt with you all the time.” Rooster takes a small step toward you. 

“No, you argue with me all the time.” 

He takes another small step, and your back hits the wall. “Riling you up is my favorite pastime. You’re so hot when you’re mad.” 

Did he just call you hot? 

“Don’t get my hopes up, Roos.” From this angle, it’s hard to ignore the height difference between the two of you. 

“Ah, so you admit all this between us has been flirting?” he smirks, bracing himself against the wall, his large hand just on the outside of your head. His other hand slides around your waist. 

“I don’t know what to call it,” you whisper. 

“You can call it me wanting you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

You don’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. He can’t mean them, can he? It must be the stuck-in-an-elevator-with-nothing-else-to-do talking. Those brown eyes seem to stare straight into your soul. There is nothing you want more than for him to kiss you right now. This man you’ve seemingly hated. 

But you know he’s right, all that hatred was actually flirtation. 

You’ve never seen him out with another woman. He’s never taken one home from the bar. Hell, you’re pretty sure you’ve watched him toss a phone number the second the girl turned away from him. 

At this realization, you can’t remember the last time you flirted with anyone who wasn’t the man in front of you. 

Hangman doesn’t count, he’s the resident playboy. It’s not your fault if you flirt back. 

Bradley leans in a little closer, searching your eyes for any hesitation. When he finds none, he leans in juuuust a little more. 

“Just tell me to stop,” he cautions. 

You absolutely don’t want him to. Craning your face up to take him in, he takes this as full-steam-ahead. 

As he crushes his mouth to yours, you would have been a fool to stop him. You’ve never kissed anyone like this. Kisses of urgency, longing, and honestly, breathtaking. It’s as if every other man you kissed was only practice. Bradley must feel the same way because you cannot mistake the groan that just fell from his lips. The sound buzzing against yours deliciously. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmurs in your ear. Bradley presses his body into yours, tightly tucking you in between him and the elevator wall. His erection presses into your lower half, and if his bedroom performance is anything like his kisses… 

Your hands slither up his chest to grip his t-shirt. He smirks against your lips before changing direction and claiming your neck. 

“You taste every bit as sweet as I thought you would,” he says. “My fantasies don’t even come close.” 

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can grab it, letting him know just what his words are doing to you. He chuckles against your neck, that mustache of his feeling exactly as you thought it would. 

He’s not the only one with fantasies. Bradley’s hands reach for the top of your jeans, pulling you to attention. 

“Bradley, there are cameras in here,” you say. There’s no way you’re having sex with Bradley for the first time in an elevator. He just ignores you, pulling your mouth back to his, offering you hungry kisses. 

“You’ve never called me that before.” He pulls back just enough for the words to leave his mouth, and then he’s back to his ministrations. “I do not care.” 

“I do, my dad probably has access to them,” you say, killing that erection immediately at the mention of your admiral father. 

“Fuck,” Bradley concedes, dropping his arms from around you. He puts as much distance between the two of you as he can, his eyes promising more to come once this elevator is fixed. 

Rooster punches the emergency button again. 

“Sir, the crew is working as hard as they can to get the elevator operational.” 

“Let them know the admiral’s daughter is also stuck in here, and she has a very important meeting to make,” he responds, never taking his eyes off of you. Bradley drops his left eye in a flirty wink, that smirk on his face as equally delicious.

masterlist.

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 1)

paring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 1 in the 6 to 1 series

being charles' little sister has its perks, such as traveling to the races, meeting a variety of people and becoming friends with the drivers. but when one driver is offended by your personal ranking, he makes it his mission to change your mind

word count: 5.7k tags: established friendships, minor social media au aspects, its just a soft start to a whirlwind series also poorly translated Italian and French, this whole series is a friends to lovers trope

Of course you had favourites.

Charles was number one, he was your brother.

Carlos next, obviously. You were a Ferrari fan through and through. 

Daniel Ricciardo was still a favourite, reserve driver or not, you made your support for Daniel very clear and would post photos of yourself in his merch any chance you got.

And then Pierre. He was Charles' best friend, someone you had also known for years. He spent Christmases with you, countless birthdays, everything. You wanted to see him succeed.

“I’m fifth?” Lando couldn’t believe your ranking and how low he was. He hit his hand on the table, causing your glass of water to shake. “Fifth? You’re joking.”

You pondered it for a second before nodding your head. Lando took a sigh of relief, thinking he made it past number five in your standings. 

“You’re right,” you said. “I am joking. You’re sixth. I’ve kind of been rooting for Lance recently. The Canadian’s wormed his way into my heart.”

Lando leaned back in his chair looking absolutely defeated. “Unbelievable,” he huffed out, crossing his arms across his chest. The pout that played on his lips made him look about four years younger and it only made you laugh as you reached across the table and ruffled his hair playfully.

“Relax, Norris, at least you’re in the top ten.”

“But six!” He exclaimed. “Danny’s not even driving.”

You shrugged and took another sip of your water, “Still love him.”

“Is that why you’re wearing DR3 merch instead of mine?” 

You looked down. You were in fact wearing a t-shirt from Daniel’s newest collection that recently dropped. He even had the heart to sign the back for you before personally delivering it.

“I never wear your merch.”

“Because you hate me.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re dramatic.”

You jumped when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You barely had time to glance up before your sunglasses were pulled from your head and the perpetrator, your brother's teammate, slid into the chair next to Lando. 

“Give them back,” you reached for the glasses but Carlos only dodged your hand and put the dark shades on his own face. 

He turned to Lando, a cheesy grin plastered on his face, “How do I look?”

Lando, still grumpy, said, “Like someone who doesn’t consider me one of her favourite drivers.”

Carlos had a good laugh at that, “Really, Y/N? He’s not in the top three?”

“Not even in the top five!” Lando shouted, gesturing towards you as you innocently spun your straw around your glass. “Lance bloody Stroll booted me to sixth.”

“He is higher than you in the driver standings.”

“That’s it,” Lando grumbled, standing up from the chair so harsh that it would have fallen backwards if Carlos hadn't caught it. Lando furiously pointed a finger at you and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “I will work my way up to being your favourite driver, mark my words.”

You shrugged again, “You can certainly try.”

Lando proceeded to muter a few choice words under his breath as he stalked off, leaving you and Carlos to burst out laughing. 

“Why do you give him such a hard time?” Carlos asked. 

“It’s entertaining for me.” You turned your head, just able to see a sliver of Lando before he disappeared into the Paddock crowd. The corner of your lips curled upwards, “And now I want to know what sort of plan he’s going to come up with.”

5

Your conversation with Lando had slipped from your mind by the end of the race weekend. In fact, you had been so caught up with Charles’ performance on Saturday and Sunday that you weren't thinking about the McLaren driver until he was right in front of you.

You walked behind Charles down the tarmac towards the private jet that would take you two and Arthur back to Monaco. Usually you claimed the seat on the right at the very back of the plane but when you walked in and saw it was taken by the British boy with curls atop his head, you were thrown for a loop.

“Morning,” Lando greeted. He wore a matching jumper and sweats set from his own Quadrant line. On the small table in front of him he pushed forward a small white box as you slowly approached. “For you.”

You shot a glance at Charles, one that basically asked what the hell was Lando doing here. Charles laughed as he searched for his headphones, “We’re all going to the same place.”

“He’s in my seat.”

“This is your seat?” Lando sounded apologetic. You looked back at him and watched as he rushed to collect his things, except for the white box, and he moved to the seat on the other side of the aisle. 

You were confused, that’s for damn sure. Lando never just casually caught a ride with your family. But you were also tired and didn’t care too much about his presence as long as he left you alone for the duration of the flight. 

You made yourself comfortable in the leather recliner, closing your eyes almost immediately. They would have stayed closed had you not heard Lando obnoxiously clear his throat.

“Lando, if you're trying to move up my driver ranking, this is not the way to do it.”

“Can you just look in the box, please,” Lando sighed. He was leaning over the armrest of his seat, practically falling into the aisle. 

A defeated sigh escaped you and you reached for the box, flipping the lid open. If you were being honest with yourself, you had absolutely no idea what was going to be inside. Lando was an enigma. You would have been equally as shocked to see a live frog as you would to see a blade of grass.

But it was neither, thank god. It was a doughnut. And not just any doughnut. It was a filled pastry with a layer of chocolate and cookie crumbles on top, coated with a drizzle of white chocolate. Something that would undoubtedly give you a toothache, but it was mouthwatering nonetheless. 

“Chocolate explosion cheesecake doughnut,” Lando explained. 

You glanced up at him, eyebrows raised, wondering why he would have bought this for you before the flight this morning. 

Lando sighed, as if he was offended you were confused, “You love cheesecake. And chocolate. And doughnuts.” He gestured to the treat, “This is the perfect combination of all three.”

He wasn’t wrong, you did love all three of those things. But how did he know that?

“Thanks,” you offered Lando a smile. “But you didn’t have to-”

“I know, I know, But I passed a bakery this morning after my jog,” Lando explained, waving his hand as if to brush off the gesture like it was nothing. “Just thought you’d like a treat during the flight is all.”

“You know, this isn’t going to make me like you more than Lance.”

Lando’s features fell. Just for a moment, but you caught it. He was hoping this one simple doughnut would push him up your standings and he was very wrong. 

“Lance didn’t buy you a doughnut.”

“Lance also didn’t take my seat.”

“I gave it back!” He exclaimed loudly, causing Arthur and Charles to both turn their heads to see what was going on. Lando leaned further across the aisle, lowering his voice. “I gave it back.”

“He finished sixth this weekend.”

“I was struggling with tyre degradation.”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. To be fair, Lando had a pretty decent weekend, but he still finished below Lance and you were going to hold onto that just because you knew it would get under Lando’s nerves. 

“You talk to me more than you talk to Lance.”

“No, you talk to me.”

“I. Bought. You. A. Doughnut.” Lando went back to his strongest argument. 

“It’ll take a little more than a pastry to move up the rankings.” You leaned into the aisle as well, catching Charle’s eyes. “Posso spingerlo giù dall'aereo?” Can I push him off the plane?

“No,” Charles chuckled, glancing at Lando who was trying to recall the very minimal Italian that he knew. “Sii gentile con lui” Be nice to him.

“Gentile?” Lando repeated, looking back and forth between you and your brother. It was the only word he could pick up on. “Nice? Did Charles just call me nice? Thank you Charles, I’m trying to do a polite thing for your sister and she’s not being respectful.”

You dropped your face to your hand, “Lo spingerò giù dall'aereo.” I’m going to push him off the plane.

“Y/N don’t do that. Lando, Mate I don’t think bribing Y/N with a doughnut is going to do you any favours,” Charles retorted, still laughing. At this point, the only person not laughing was Lando. “Now put your seatbelts on.”

You and Lando exchanged a similar look, a challenging one. Eyes slightly narrowed, a smirk playing on your lips. He was going to make it his mission to become your favourite driver and you were intent on not letting that happen.

Once you were in the air, Charles got up out of his seat to come and talk to you about plans for dinner this week with your mum. You brought one leg up to your chest as you spoke to your older brother, switching between French and Italian throughout the duration of the conversation. That was common for you two, but you noticed that Lando was watching intensely, probably trying to figure out if you two were talking about him.

Charles noticed too and dipped his head in an attempt to stifle his laughter, “Tu seras sa mort.” You’ll be the death of him.

“Possibly, but that’s what makes this fun,” You swiftly turned your head to face the British driver. “Right?”

Lando held his hands up defensively, “I’m not agreeing with anything you just said. I don’t even know what you said.”

“Then stop trying to eavesdrop,” You stretched your hand out to land a playful hit on his arm. One would have thought you just bruised his bone with the way he reacted, retracting his arm into his chest and inhaling a very dramatic breath. You rolled your eyes, “We weren’t talking about you, by the way. We were talking about plans for dinner.”

“For tonight?” Lando asked, face lighting up immediately. “Perfect. I’m in.”

Charles’ head fell back with laughter as he turned around, leaving you to deal with this conversation on your own. 

“No, you idiot,” you stared at him in disbelief. “With our mother, later this week.”

“Oh,” he nodded, poking his tongue out to lick his lips before his eyebrows pinched together, “So what’s happening tonight?”

“Nothing’s happening tonight.”

“So you’re free for me to take you out on a date?”

Charles’ and Arthur’s laughter echoed through the plane and it took everything in you not to laugh as well, but you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. You were also very taken aback by his abruptness of the question, like this was casual, like you guys had hung out outside the paddock before, you hadn’t. 

“Lando if this is about my driver ranking-”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Lando shrugged, but his cheeky grin told you it was. He reached across the aisle and nudged your arm, “Come on, Y/N, let’s do something fun in Monaco.”

When it clicked for all of you that this wasn’t a joke, Charles stood up from his seat, eyes darting back and forth between you and Lando a few times before landing on him, “No, absolutely not. You’re not going on a date with my sister.”

“Don’t think that’s up for you to decide.” Lando looked at you expectantly. His hazel eyes bore into yours and with the way the early morning sunlight flooded through the small windows, he seemed to quite literally be glowing. 

You almost said yes because of the way he was looking at you. A hopeful, boyish smile on his lips. Chin rested in his hand so innocently. Head tilted the slightest bit. How could you say no to that? 

You had to.

“Lando, I’m not going on a date with you.”

To end the conversation, you found your airpods and pulled out your phone, making yourself look as busy as possible, even if you were just scrolling through different social media platforms. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lando shift in his seat, trying to decide if he should interrupt you or not. 

Eventually he decided not to. Probably figuring that asking you out on a date for a second time wouldn’t go over well with you, or with Charles for that matter.

But that didn’t mean he was done trying.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 17, 932 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

ynleclerc spanish grand prix but im the only one that looks good

view all 2,301 comments

charles_leclerc i don't like this

carlossainz55 why did you include that one of me

ynleclerc because it made me giggle ynleclerc ti amo❤️

dailyyferrari y/n is really out here giving us the ferrari boys content

hamileclerc okay but can we talk about her style

sunshinemick paddock queen

16paddocks idc what anyone else says i think her and carlos would make the cutest couple

helpmelando charles would never let her date a driver LMAO

------

When you stepped off the plane, Lando was quick to take your bags from you so you didn’t have to carry them to the car that was waiting for you. Charles lightly smacked him upside the head, muttering something under his breath about how Lando wasn’t allowed to hit on his sister.

Lando ignored it, like he ignored most signs and instructions. He waited until getting to the car, making sure to grab the door and hold it open for you. 

“Being chivalrous isn’t going to do anything for my driver ranking.”

“I’m just being nice.”

“You have ulterior motives.”

“No,” Lando argued. Your eyebrows pinched together and he changed his answer. “Okay fine, yes I want you to like me more. Let me take you out, Y/N. It’ll be fun.”

It wasn’t like Charles controlled your life, but you did worry about what he would think if you and Lando did go out, even just for an innocent dinner. Lando could sense your hesitation as you glanced at your older brother a few feet away and he just nodded and drummed his fingers against the car window.

“I’ll see you around, then,” taking your silence as an answer. He gave you a gentle smile, one that matched the rest of his soft features before shutting the door. 

You didn’t expect to hear from Lando until the next race and honestly, that would have been for the better. That plane ride with him was enough. And him asking you on a date? Where the hell did that come from? You understood that Lando just wanted to move up your personal driver rankings, but you were conflicted about that potentially leading to spending more time with him.

Lando was someone you’ve known for a few years now. You were always friendly in the paddock or any social events, you shared some entertaining banter, but never once did you spend time together in between races.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you did like Lando and his company, but similar to Carlos or Daniel, he was a friend. A friend you saw when you watched a grand prix and nothing more. It didn’t make sense to see him on a more regular basis.

Also Charles would kill you if you went on a date with a driver. 

Luckily for you, the second you stepped into your flat, all thoughts of the McLaren driver left your mind. You had to unpack, you needed to do laundry, you needed to meal prep for the upcoming week. You’d been gone for four days so god did you need to clean. Basic chores kept you busy for the majority of the day until you found yourself needing to make dinner. 

You had just placed a homemade pizza in the oven and licked some excess tomato sauce off your thumb when there was a knock on your door. 

This didn’t alarm you. You ordered a lot of packages, you figured this was another one. Or maybe it was one of your friends because they knew you were back home. It wasn’t strange that someone was stopping by.

It was strange that the person on the other side of your door was Lando. 

You had half a mind to shut the door in his face. 

“I said no date.” 

“This isn’t a date!” Lando defended himself, but the single daisy between his fingers told you otherwise. Lando noticed you eyeing it and he held it out towards you, “I passed a shrub of daisies, what was I supposed to do? Not grab you one?”

Reluctantly, you took the flower from him, spinning it between your forefinger and your thumb. Dozens of questions flooded through your mind, but instead of making him stand in your foyer as you pondered which one to ask, you nodded your head to invite him inside. 

Lando smiled and shut the door behind him. He had changed out of his jumper from earlier, now in a pair of black joggers and, of course, a Quadrant t-shirt. 

You had changed as well, now in a matching cotton pj set that was beige with little red hearts on it. You noticed that Lando’s eyes lingered on your bare legs for longer than he probably should have.

“How’d you know?” You asked.

Lando cleared his throat, “How’d I know what?”

“That I like daisies.”

He shifted onto the balls of his feet, “You have a daisy tattoo.”

Your eyebrows raised due to suspicion, “Not anywhere visible.”

The small flower was inked into your side on your ribcage, just below the curve of your breast. It wasn’t everyday you walked around topless, so you were certainly confused as to how Lando of all people had become aware of it.

Lando knew he had been caught out. He inhaled a sharp breath, quickly trying to figure out how to get out of this grave he had dug for himself.

“Word spreads,” he shrugged.

“Word spreads?” You repeated back to him. You knew exactly what that meant. You pushed on his chest and reached for the handle of the door, practically shoving him out. “Get out of my flat, Lando. And take your fucking daisy.”

You crumpled it between your fingers until the pedals turned to remnants of what it used to be before throwing it in his face. Lando didn’t let you shut the door though, he kept his palm against the surface and pushed it open. You were strong, but nowhere near as strong as a Formula 1 driver.

“Hey, come on,” Lando tried to reason with you. “I’m not the one who talks, Y/N. I didn’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s not my place.”

He leaned against the side of the door, refusing to break your stare until you believed he was telling the truth. You pressed your lips together tightly, telling yourself that Lando was only the middle man in this unfortunate turn of events. You were annoyed, definitely, but you didn’t need to take it out on him.

“I want to know what he said,” you decided, swinging the door open for the second time.

And that’s how you found yourself on the couch with Lando as he relayed to you everything that Pierre had told him. 

It was a mistake, honestly. One that you didn’t think you regretted that much, but now you were thinking otherwise. 

Last Christmas when Pierre came to visit the Leclerc family, the two of you ended up splitting a bottle of wine, or maybe two, and when the end of the night came, instead of going to his hotel, Pierre came with you back to your flat.

You had known Pierre for years through Charles, but that night there was a magnetic pull that had you craving him. It was probably the wine. 

He kissed you, something that you shouldn't have let happen but you were giddy and drunk and it was the holidays so all logic slipped from mind. Pierre kissed you and for the rest of the night, nothing else seemed to matter.

But when you woke up in your bed the next morning, limbs tangled with his and the sheets, you both agreed that it could never happen again. You also agreed that you would never talk about it. The last thing you needed was Charles’ finding out about a one night stand between his best friend and his sister and neither of you wanted to start any gossip in the paddock.

That’s what you thought, at least. Because apparently Pierre had told Lando every stupid detail about that night, including the tattoo that he had noticed on your side. 

“È uno stronzo," He’s an asshole. With your arm resting along the back of the couch, you dropped your face to rest in your hand. Lando knew just enough Italian that he didn't have to ask for a translation. “We agreed not to tell anyone. Who else knows?”

Lando shrugged and usually that was a cop out answer, but you believed that he truly didn’t know. “I don’t think he told Carlos. Danny might know. Yuki? I don’t know, Y/N, I’m sorry. Pierre loves to talk.”

“I just don’t want this to get back to Charles.”

He nodded, understanding where you were coming from, “If it helps, I haven’t told anyone.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him, “What do you want? An award for doing the bare fucking minimum? You could have told Pierre to not talk about me.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Lando cowered back into his corner of the couch. He felt bad about this situation, but you also sort of intimidated him. He didn’t know how to help. It just seemed like everything he said or did made it a little bit worse.

He was so tense that when the timer on your oven went off, he flinched in response. 

You slid off the couch and headed towards the kitchen. When you put the pizza on a cooling rack, you glanced over your shoulder to catch a peak at Lando, only to find him watching you. You nodded your head towards the plate in your hand, “Did you want some?”

“Of what?”

He didn’t think sometimes. “Lando, what the hell does it smell like in here?”

“Piz- oh, yeah sure I’d love a slice,” his boyish grin returned and you grabbed a second plate out for him. You also grabbed a bottle of wine from the cart in the corner, but Lando’s voice stopped you from popping out the cork. “Oh I’m okay, I don’t actually drink wine.”

You had nothing against drinking alone, but for reasons you couldn’t really explain, it felt wrong to pour yourself a glass of wine and enjoy it in Lando’s presence. 

So you opted for a few bottles of Perrier instead. You balanced the plates on one arm and carried the sparkling water in your hand. When you came back to the couch, Lando was quick to take the dishes from you so you could get comfortable in your spot.

He took a bite of the pizza and immediately sucked in a breath as if that would help cool it down. You wanted to roll your eyes at how daft he could be sometimes. It was a wonder how this man could memorise over twenty different track layouts and withstand up to 5G, but couldn’t remember to let his food cool down before eating.

Lando must have noticed you smiling to yourself and he took a sip of water before asking about it, “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you were still smiling, “You’re just funny, is all.”

“I’m funny?” He repeated, mirroring your expression as he saw it as a compliment. The slightest bit of an ego boost did wonders for his mood. “Why thank you.”

You were starting to learn which battles to pick with Lando. Correcting him about your concerns regarding his mentality was not one of them. 

“So you came over here for what reason?” You asked, eyeing the crumbled up flower near your front door. 

“For a date,” Lando answered like it was the easiest question in the world. “I just assumed you had to say no earlier, for Charles’ sake.”

You scoffed, “I said no because I didn’t want to go on a date with you.”

“So what are we doing right now?”

He had you there. 

You may not have gone out and done something ‘fun’ but you did invite him inside and now you were sharing a few slices of homemade pizza. You almost opened a bottle of wine. 

“This isn’t a date,” it was a piss poor argument, but it was all you could come up with. 

“Agree to disagree,” Lando looked pleased with himself. “And I don’t see Lance showing up at your door, with a flower, wanting to hang out with you.”

“Maybe because Lance lives in Montreal,” you retorted. “And he also has a girlfriend.”

“So why do you like him more than me?” Lando raised his voice but there was still a lingering playful understone. 

“He’s a better driver,” you took another bite of pizza, ignoring the way Lando was staring at you like you offended the last five generations of his family. When you finally looked up, you rolled your eyes at his dumbstruck expression, covering your mouth with your hand as you finished chewing. “Lando, he’s literally sitting at ninth in the driver standings. Your tenth. Maybe get some points and I’ll like you more.”

“You’re harsh,” Lando shook his head at your words as he stood up from the couch. For a second you wondered where he was going but he just pointed at the kitchen, “Mind if I grab another slice?”

“Oh, you like my cooking?”

“I do, actually,” Lando chuckled. He put a few more slices on his plate. “You’ve got some good culinary skills. This crust?” He lifted his fingers to his lips, kissing the tip of them to express his appreciation for your homemade pizza. “You should open up a restaurant.”

Your head dipped backwards as you laughed, “You’ve tried one meal. I could be absolute shit at making everything else.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lando shook his head as he returned to the couch. This time when he sat down, you noticed he positioned himself more towards you than forwards. 

“Why not?”

Lando hesitated, taking a breath before answering, “I don’t think it's possible for you to be shit at anything. If you have the same determination as Charles, which I think you do, it’s probably safe to say that when you put your mind to something, you excel.”

It was a nice compliment, but you didn’t let his words affect you the way he would have hoped.

“You’re still sixth in my ranking.”

“For now.”

“Forever.”

Lando opened his mouth only for his jaw to immediately close. You straightened up and nudged his foot with yours.  

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever you were about to say”

“I forgot,” Lando shrugged it off, but you knew he was lying. He had a horrible poker face. It also didn’t help that he quickly scarfed down the rest of his pizza and stood up, avoiding this conversation. 

You watched as he walked to the kitchen and turned the tap on to start washing the single dish he used. You braced your arm over the back of the couch, “Just leave it, I can clean it later.”

His jaw dropped in fake astonishment, “Leave it? I was raised better than that. You fed me, I can clean. Equal trade.”

“Lando-

“Shut up Y/N, let me do the dishes.” He then moved to grab a few cutting boards and other utensils you used and left out. 

You weren’t sure what was going through his mind as he cleaned up your mess. You just watched, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Lando. 

This was his first time at your place, so it took a while for him to figure out where you kept your dish rags and soap, but it was entertaining watching as he navigated through your cupboards and drawers. 

After a few minutes, he wiped his hands on his pants and made his way towards the back of the couch. You stared up at him, but instantly regretted that as he flicked his hand in front of your face. A few stray drops of water landed on your cheeks and you pushed on his abdomen. 

“Oh you asshole,” you wiped your face as Lando only laughed and grabbed your now empty plate. You followed him to the kitchen this time though, nudging your hip against his so he would move out of the way for you to grab a towel. 

“You could always hire me as a dishwasher if being a driver doesn’t work out for me,” Lando suggested. 

"One, I'm not opening up a restaurant," you started, hearing a scoff from Lando. "Two, hiring you would mean I have to see you all the time."

"That's not so bad."

You didn't answer, relying on your judgmental eyeroll and pursed lips to get the message across. Lando snatched another towel from the drawer and rolled it up, snapping it against your bare forearm.

"Ouch," you hissed at him, grabbing the spot that had just been hit. Now it was Lando's turn to roll his eyes.

He pushed your hand out of the way and brushed his thumb against the faint red mark on your arm that would certainly disappear within the next ten minutes. You may have reacted dramatically.

Okay, you definitely did. You grew up with three older brothers. A little roughhousing was not going to be the end of you. Lando knew this.

"Oh you're fine," he assured you, his fingers lingering on your skin longer than they needed to before he turned back around.

You wiped down the counter and Lando grabbed a few dishes that had been sitting in the drying rack. As he turned around, he placed his hand on your waist to gently move you out of the way so he could put the plates in the cupboard. A much nicer gesture compared to you just pushing against his side earlier.

Even though this was the first time Lando was visiting your flat, you two managed to fall into a pretty good flow as you finished cleaning up your kitchen. What started as just picking up after dinner turned into tidying everything else up.

Conversation flowed as well. He didn’t bring up your driver ranking, he asked what your plans were this week. He asked about any upcoming modelling projects you had lined up. He wanted to know if you’d be at the next race and he seemed excited when your answer was yes. 

Before you knew it, almost two hours had passed of the two of you just standing in your kitchen, talking. It was easy to talk to someone who made you laugh every five minutes and Lando just didn’t seem to have an excuse to leave, so he didn’t. 

This was the most amount of time you had ever spent with the British driver.

And you didn’t hate it.

It wasn’t until a yawn slipped out as Lando was talking did you both realise what time it was. Lando pulled out his phone at the same time you did. Either you put it on silent and didn’t notice or you had just been too engrossed with Lando and your conversation to notice that Charles had texted you a number of times.

“Everything okay?” Lando asked, noticing your expression.

You briefly skimmed the messages, but then decided you didn’t want to deal with your brother right now, “Yeah just Charles. I’ll call him back in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to ignore-”

You raised a hand to stop him mid-apology, “Don’t apologise, really.” You glanced around your pristine kitchen before your eyes landed on his, momentarily asking yourself why you turned him down in the first place. “Tonight was…weirdly fun. Even though you showed up unannounced and I found out Pierre told half the grid that we hooked up.”

Lando clenched his jaw and inhaled a sharp breath, “Yeah, sorry about that. Not about showing up unannounced, I don’t regret that, but about the whole Pierre thing.”

Leave it to Lando to not feel any bit of remorse for crashing your do-nothing plans after you rejected a date with him. 

You walked him to the front door and leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, watching to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. He then looked down at the flower right next to his feet. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. You could admit you overreacted. 

“Don’t be,” Lando shook his head. “I’ll just get you a bouquet next time, it’s probably harder to destroy.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, “Next time?”

Lando tilted his head, that same cheeky grin making a reappearance, “Oh. Yeah. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m still on a mission.” He gestured towards your kitchen. “I can’t believe I cleaned for you and you still like Lance better than me.”

“I mean,” you inhaled a heavy breath. Were you really about to say this? You could already see Lando’s expression turn hopeful and you had to avert your gaze, looking up at the ceiling instead. “It’s probably safe to say that Pierre isn’t on that top five list anymore.”

“He’s bumped down?” Lando asked. You nodded and you could tell how ecstatic he was over this news. “So by default, I’m number 5?”

“Sure, by default you’ve made it into the top five.”

Lando actually fist pumped the air. You rolled your eyes, dragging your hand over your face before reaching for the door. You pulled it open and for the second time tonight, you were pushing him out of your flat. 

“Goodnight, Lando.” you went to shut the door, but just like earlier, he stopped it. 

He stepped closer, his line of sight trailing upwards, taking his time to really look at all of the details on your face. Like how no matter how hard you were trying to look annoyed, a sliver of a smile still poked through. There was an indent above your right eyebrow, he hadn’t noticed it before and he made a mental note to ask you about it the next time he saw you. He then landed on your eyes and he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling his mouth becoming very dry.

“In all honesty, thanks for inviting me in,” Lando told you. His words sounded genuine. It almost made you forget about his ridiculous move-up-your-ranking operation. 

“Yeah, just don’t make a habit of showing up uninvited,” you said. 

“No promises.”

He shot you a wink before taking a few steps backwards and away from your flat. You watched for a few seconds, making sure he got into his car safely. Once he turned it on, you shut the door and released a breath you weren’t even aware you had been keeping in. 

As you heard him drive away, you ignored an unfamiliar twisting feeling in the pit of your stomach. You also paid no attention to the fact that your flat just seemed so empty without him and almost eerily quiet after his laughter filled up the space for the last few hours. And of course, you refused to let yourself think about what would have happened if you did agree to the date.

But you did ask yourself one question.

 What the hell were you getting yourself into?

a fun new little lando series (will be about 5-6 parts) can't wait to hear your thoughts

masterlist here part 2 here

[wreckedandpolemic]

6,98,99. Sorry for the multiple numbers, they just work so well together.

Also love your work!💜

my kink is karma - matty healy

(mdni) in which your ex wants to give you a birthday treat. too bad for your boyfriend. 2099 words.

warnings: cheating, semi-public sex, daddy kink

Firstly, you’d like to say that you’re not a spiteful person, thank you very much. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good to run into your ex drinking alone while celebrating your birthday with your friends and your shiny, new boyfriend. Matty salutes you with his glass when you spot him, and you ignore him pointedly. He won’t fucking leave it alone, though — that’s always been his problem.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, she walks into mine,” says Matty, low in your ear as you go to order yourself another drink at the bar. You hope he doesn’t notice the shudder that runs through you at the sound of his voice. “Whatever she’s having on my tab, yeah?” he adds smoothly, and you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll have a bottle of the most expensive champagne you’ve got,” you grin. What? He’s got the money for it, and you aren’t going to turn down a free drink on your birthday, of all days. Matty shrugs when the bartender looks at him to confirm, and she hands you the bottle in a cooler.

You turn to leave, go back to your friends, but Matty takes hold of your wrist, gentle enough that you could break out of it. Something stops you, though. “Happy birthday,” he mutters. “Thought about callin’, but…” he blows out a breath. “The way we left things, I didn’t know if you’d wanna hear from me.”

Feigning casualness, you shrug, pretending like the reminder of your heart-wrenching breakup doesn’t tear at you all over again. “Yeah… Well, you’re here now,” you say matter-of-factly. “How’ve you been?” you ask, despite knowing the answer. Over the last six months, you’ve taken some kind of twisted pleasure in keeping tabs on him, in watching his life fall apart.

The two of you split in April, leaving you forced to move out of the apartment you loved that was in his name, nine days after you’d paid your half of the rent. June, he got arrested in a drunken bar fight; July crashed his car, the car he loved more than almost anything, leaving it completely written off; August, the girl he’d been seeing since suspiciously soon after your breakup left him with no warning. Meanwhile, you’ve had a promotion, gotten into the perfect relationship and everything is falling neatly into place.

Your reaction to him being around is involuntary, you tell yourself, fucking Pavlovian. You were together for three fucking years, of course your body still responds to him. It’s still learning what it’s like to live without him. Matty sighs, and you jolt out of your reverie as you remember you asked him a question. “Not great,” he admits. “Drinkin’ alone on a Friday night not tip you off?” he says, bitterness tracing his tone. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been great,” you say blithely. “I’m making great money, I’m in love, properly this time,” you can’t resist adding. “And you just bought me a bottle of champagne and told me everything sucks for you! What more could a girl want on her birthday?”

Matty scoffs. “You’re still the same,” he says coolly. “Bratty when you’re not getting fucked right, huh?” he adds, your stomach swooping at his words.

You don’t know what makes you admit it, some heady combination of mixed drinks and Matty’s presence for the first time in months overcoming all sense, but you murmur, “M’not. He’s not as good as you. S’the only thing I miss.” You try to weaken the admission.

Matty’s eyes light up, and you groan internally. “Is that so?” His grip tightens on your wrist and you stumble towards him when he tugs on it, a sickening pulse of arousal dripping down your spine. “Got everything you want, huh? Even down to your perfect little boyfriend. But you think about me when he’s fucking you, don’t you?” he breathes, something hard and dangerous in his tone, your heart thudding traitorously as he leans closer. 

“I… That’s not true.” you say, but the wavering of your voice betrays you, and he smirks wickedly.

“You can’t lie to me, baby. I know you too well.” The statement lodges in your throat like you’ve dry-swallowed a pill, the truth ringing disgustingly clear. “What do you say? You want one last good fuck, for old times’ sake?”

You should pull away. You need to pull away. You have to pull away. But you can’t. “Once a cheater, always a cheater,” you say. Matty’s eyes darken, but you know he took note of the most crucial element first: it wasn’t a refusal.

“I never cheated on you,” Matty says seriously. “I did a lot of other shit, I know I did, but not that. Never that.”

You swallow hard. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“One more time. One more fuck. I need you out of my system,” you breathe, and you could almost cum from the filthy look on his face. Guiltily, you slink to the bathroom, casting furtive glances around and praying nobody spots you trailing after Matty and slipping behind a locked door.

Matty slams you against the door the second it shuts, devouring you in a harsh kiss, teeth and tongue sliding together almost violently. Having his hands on you again feels horrifyingly good, nauseatingly familiar. He’s hard, you can feel as he presses his body against yours, and you whimper pathetically into his mouth. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Matty groans, like he can’t help himself. “Makes me sick. Been fuckin’ dying for you, baby.”

“So hurry up,” you snap. “I know you’re here alone, but I have people who care, and not much time before one of them notices I’m missing.”

“Such a brat,” Matty teases. “Need a good fuck to shut you up, yeah? S’alright, baby. Daddy’s here now. Gonna give you what you need.” The bottom falls out of your stomach and his words, a helpless, strangled moan escaping you. “Oh, missed your Daddy, have you, darling? Not given your little boyfriend my name, right?”

“N-no,” you stammer. “He… he wouldn’t understand. You’re my Daddy, couldn’t replace you.” Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your mind dizzy with desire, the words spilling from your lips without permission.

You’d forgotten how it feels with him, how Matty gets you sick with lust, thick and palpable in the air of the small room. “Good girl,” he croons. “Bend over for Daddy, yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

You obey, the sight of your reflection sickening. You look fucked-out already, flushed red and panting. Matty’s hands come to rest on your hips, stroking appreciatively over the curve of your ass and pushing your too-short dress up around your hips. Torturously slow, he pulls your panties off, motioning for you to step out of them when they hit the floor. “I’m keeping these,” he says, slipping the scrap of lace into his pocket. “Something to remember you by, yeah?”

Wrapped up in his touch as you were, the reminder that this is a one-time thing shocks you like you’ve been doused with ice water. Right now, you don’t have a fucking clue why you even broke up, not when his fingers are so achingly close to your dripping core. “God, Matty, please!” you choke out, widening your legs desperately. 

“Give me a minute, baby. Missed this pretty cunt so much. Gotta make sure I don’t forget a thing, if this is the last time m’gonna get to have you.” He brushes his fingers through your folds, your body jolting at the barest touch over your swollen clit. Meeting your gaze in the dingy mirror, Matty wraps his lips around his wet fingers, moaning exaggeratedly as he sucks them clean. “God, missed the way you taste, darling. Sweetest fucking girl I’ve ever had,” he promises, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

You squirm, cold porcelain biting into your thighs. You hear the sound of a foil wrapper tearing open, and before you can process, Matty slides into you, your knees buckling at the sudden fullness. “F-fuck,” you whimper, the feeling of being wholly surrounded by him familiar as he thrusts deep into you, pleasure cascading over your bones.

“God, you feel so fucking good, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Daddy’s gonna fuck you until the only word you remember is my name,” Matty promises, shushing you soothingly as you whimper. His hips slam against yours, ecstasy flooding your veins as your thighs bash against the sink. He fists a hand in your hair, dragging you up to meet your own gaze in the mirror. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how gorgeous you are, falling apart on my dick. Right where you should be, hm?” he murmurs, heat flooding your belly as you watch yourself take his cock over and over. “He could never fuck you like this, huh? Whose girl are you, really?”

“M’yours, Daddy. Yours, still yours, all yours,” you babble, cunt clenching wantonly around him as his smirk grows and his pace speeds. You moan horrifyingly loud when he hits that spot inside of you, too dizzy with desire to control your noises.

“Shh, baby, shh. Try not to be so noisy, yeah? Can’t let anyone know what we’re doin’ in here, that this lying fucking bastard has you split open and begging on his cock.” He throws your words from your final fight back in your face, pinching your clit meanly and fucking you deep. You can’t hold back another whimpering scream, and he scoffs. “Needy little whore can’t keep quiet, huh?” he murmurs, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth. Eagerly, you suck on them, your moans muffled as saliva pools under your tongue.

Heat scorches through you, every thrust of Matty’s hips and grunt that falls from his lips sending an illicit spark of pure pleasure racing up your spine. You can’t think, can barely breathe, choked in desperate lust that drips out of you and soaks him. He’s right, you can’t remember anything but him, his name circling your head, denting your brain out of shape. Nothing but Matty, Matty, Matty. “This fuckin’ pussy drives me insane, baby. Always so wet for me, so wet for your Daddy. Could have this all the time, if you wanted.”

His words cut through the fog in your mind as Matty slides his fingers free from your mouth to let you answer. “What do you mean?” you stammer, your disloyal heart skipping a beat.

“We had issues, yeah. But we were good together,” Matty murmurs, rubbing distracting circles into your clit, training you into giving the right response. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last six months. About us.” He slams his hips against yours on the final word, pleasure roiling in your stomach, every muscle in your body stringing taut. “I want another try. I know it would be better this time. I’d be better,” he promises, nails digging possessively into your hips.

“Matty, I–” You’re at a loss for words. His face crumples almost imperceptibly; if you weren’t so attuned to him, you wouldn’t have known.

“S’okay, baby. Fucked you too dumb to answer, I get it. You wanna be a good girl and cum for Daddy?” You nod wildly, his circles over your clit getting tighter and faster and you whimper helplessly, but you don’t miss how he’s stopped meeting your eyes.

Ecstasy winds around your veins, sticky, hot desire pinning you still as Matty fucks into you. “Fuck, Daddy, m’gonna–” you gasp out, the tension in your body finally breaking, stars going supernova behind your eyelids. Your legs tremble, your entire body going limp as waves of pleasure swirl in your stomach and buffet your organs.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Matty murmurs soothingly. “Daddy’s got you. Whenever you want, I’ll be here,” he promises, and a split-second later you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, the feeling of his cum spilling in your cunt sorely missing.

It takes a few moments before your legs have stopped shaking enough for you to stand, Matty supporting your waist as you clutch your abused muscles. “We should… I should get back out there,” you say, raking your fingers through your hair in an effort to tame it. You both look well-fucked, the question of how you’re going to explain your absence rattling around your mind. Matty meets your eyes one last time, looking over his shoulder as he unlocks the door.

“When you get bored of him, call me. I’ll be waiting.”

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Kim Dokja headcanons with fem!reader who is a writer

These headcanons are dedicated to my friend @d10nsaint who recommended me this webtoon series to me when I had nothing else to read lol. Enjoy! :)

Prior to the apocalypse, Kim Dokja was neither a social butterfly nor a likable person on Minosoft’s Q and A team. Most people avoided him, and he liked to keep a low profile so he could read his webnovels in peace. 

It was a perfect, quiet routine for a contract worker like himself  until the arrival of a new junior shattered it all. [First Name] [Last Name], recently transferred from the company’s [Country] branch to HQ. And she was assigned to work under him. 

Not only was the junior a quick learner, but she was also very good-looking. Kim Dokja might be a reader at heart, he wasn’t a blind fool to not notice her. She was definitely on her way to becoming the next Yoo Sangah in the company: charming, kind, and willingly to stay late to help the team finish up any assignments for the next meeting. 

He definitely did not have a chance with someone like them. At least that was what he had thought until he looked over in her cubicle to go over some paperwork when he saw the artwork of a web novel on her computer but she wasn't there. 

SOMEONE ELSE BESIDES HIM READ WEBNOVELS?! The man was stunned to say the least. However, right now he could not afford to look like a weirdo with the CEO making random rounds to each department today. So, like the gentleman he is, he placed the documents on your desk and went right back to work. 

But he kept an eye on her…in a non-creepy way of course! It was just….hard  for him to make conversation with someone. It definitely took Kim Dokja a few times to ask [First Name] if they would be interested in going to get a bite to eat on the way home from a particularly tiring day in the office. 

To his surprise and delight, she accepted. It was nothing fancy, just a food stall. When he saw that her phone screen was opened up to the newest chapter of Three Ways of Survival he couldn’t help but blurt out that it was a mind-blowing twist to the story. 

[First Name]'s reaction to his words was stunned silence, followed by them asking him that he’s read the novel too with a starry look in her eyes. 

After that, Kim Dokja and [First Name] exchanged numbers. While at Minosoft,  the two of them worked together and remained professional. If one or the other were invited to drinks, they’d follow them. Nothing too odd to raise any alarms, just casual banter that even made a few of the other employees raise her eyebrows.

It was a whole different story when they were off the clock though. 

The two of them either went out somewhere, or just spent a good chunk of the evening texting each other web novel recommendations or their thoughts on the latest chapter of TWSA.

Kim Dokja thought he knew everything about his growing crush on [First Name] until she shyly dropped another startling revelation on him just a year after discovering that they loved reading as much as he did: [First Name] [Last Name] was a web novel writer.

Not only that, but her work was something he’d recently started to read when tls123 went on a brief hiatus due to health issues. 

Seriously, how could someone be so perfect in his eyes?!

Naturally, he read [First Name]’s work and gave her honest feedback on the plot’s progression, the characters, any and everything that would make her grin from ear to ear or hum in contemplation about where she could improve. 

He has the honor of reading her rough drafts before she published it online. Not going to lie, some of his ideas came from his favorite web novel. But [First Name] deeply appreciated his help and often thanked him for his support, especially when she was hit with writer’s block.

It took Kim Dokja another six months before he worked up the courage to ask [First Name] out on a date. He was terrified, fearing that he might lose his only friend…but seeing the bright red hue on  [First Name]’s face and hearing her stutter that she would be delighted to go out with him as more than a co-worker and a friend made his heart skip a beat.

She….she really…liked him too, huh? That’s…great. No, it was more than great. This is probably one of the happiest memories he still kept close to his heart: knowing that he loved someone, and she loved him back.

And now, no matter what happened in these scenarios, he would protect and provide for [First Name]. She was precious to him, and she gladly reciprocated that same devotion and love with no strings attached or scheming. 

It still warmed his heart to see her cuddle with Gil-Yeong and Shin Yu-Seong late at night or work with the rest of his party to ensure that everyone was prepared for what lay ahead next. 

He also took secret, sadistic delight in seeing his significant other win arguments against Han Sooyoung, especially about stories or writing. 

No matter what she said, a plagiarist is still a plagiarist even if people said that SSSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor is superior to Three Ways of Survival in every way.

.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Prompted by the anon who asked about becoming an author with little writing practice. What are your personal thoughts on writing with a goal to have a paycheck? Including a genuine interest in writing, of course. I've dabbled a little bit in writing, and I always wanted to be published, but I imagined this would happen later on in my life. I'm currently unemployed and have been ghosted and rejected everywhere for over a year now. I'm starting to get a little desperate, and I'm looking at publishing a book as the better option now... but I'm in no way practised enough to be thinking about that. What's your take on it?

The Realities of Making Money with Writing

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but writing--in any capacity--is not a viable solution for when you're unemployed and need a paycheck. It's actually very hard to make a living as a writer, and that's even more true for inexperienced writers...

Writing in a paid position, such as a staff writer for a magazine or newspaper, is the most viable way to make money as a writer. However, paid writing positions are limited in number and highly competitive. You typically need to have the writing experience and credentials to qualify for the position, and if you don't, you're probably not getting a position that pays the bills.

Traditional publishing is not a great goal if you're looking for a paycheck. Not only does it typically take years of writing, querying, and rejection before you get a publishing deal (if ever), once you get that deal it's not the cash cow you may think it is. First, advances for debut authors can be as low as a few thousand dollars and are rarely above $10k. While that may sound like a ton of money, especially when you're unemployed, remember you're paying taxes on that, so what you actually get to keep is significantly less. Then, whatever that amount is will be broken into two to four equal payments. So you're either getting a few grand that has to last you six months or so, or you're getting about $1500 that has to last you a few months or so. In today's economy, neither amount goes very far. It'd be like having a job where you make $500 a month. You'd likely do better with a job at a fast food place. And once you get a book deal, it's going to be at least a year before your book is published and for sale, so it's going to be a while before you're seeing royalties. Even then, most books (even traditionally published ones), don't sell enough copies for the author to make a living wage. Most authors who're able to make a living wage either have a wildly popular book or a backlog of reasonably popular books. Debut authors don't usually make much money.

Self-Publishing is a terrible goal if you're looking for a paycheck. First, self-publishing a book that sells well requires most people to invest a little in their book. Professional cover art, professional editing, and advertising are just a few of the places where self-published authors routinely invest in their own books. While it's possible to self-publish a book for free, you really have to know what you're doing in order to pull it off successfully. Self-published books are hard enough to sell with professional covers, excellent editing, and paid advertising. You won't get far with an amateur cover, bad editing, and inadequate advertising and promo. Self-publishing is also not something you should be considering if you describe yourself as someone who has "dabbled in writing" and "not practiced enough to think about publishing." Self-publishing is a serious industry composed primarily of serious authors who have put in the time, effort, and practice to hone their craft and create quality books. Every time someone half-asses a book in hopes of a windfall, it damages the collective reputation of serious self-published authors.

Furthermore: even if you are an experienced writer who writes an AMAZING professionally edited book with a gorgeous cover, and you put a ton of effort and money into marketing your book, you are still probably not going to make enough on one book to pay the bills. The way to make money via self-publishing is by writing a volume of great books that sell well so you can make money on your backlog. Many authors also do things to diversify their revenue stream, such as offering courses, workbooks, critique and editing services, etc., but these are not things inexperienced writers should be offering.

So, if you're someone who has "dabbled in writing" and are looking for a way to pay the bills right now, writing isn't it.

Instead, you need to look for another job right now and keep writing in your spare time. Read a lot of books, write a lot of stories and novels that will never be published. Hone your craft. Then, when you've got a lot of stories under your belt and have critique partners and beta readers swooning over your fiction--then you can self-publish your debut novel or try querying again. Just remember that, even then--even when you've put in the time to hone your craft--neither traditional publishing or self-publishing is guaranteed to be a windfall that pays the bills. Most authors have a day job.

Best of luck on your journey! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[ryttu3k]

Having some Thoughts about Astarion and his perceived intelligence, or lack thereof (it was largely in the tags of this post, which I absolutely recommend reading, but it was getting overly long).

Astarion is perceived as… not very bright. Like it's kind of a running joke in fandom at this point, and it's been bugging me for a bit, so…

INT 13 isn't actually low

INT 13 is actually a fair bit above average! Of the main six Origin characters, only Gale has a higher INT score at 17, which is what you'd expect from a wizard and Actual Nerd (complimentary). Wyll has INT 13 as well, Lae'zel and Shadowheart have the average score of INT 10, and Karlach has INT 8. Of the secondary companions, Halsin and Minthara also have INT 10, and Minsc and - interestingly - Jaheira both have INT 8.

So, far from being one of the dumbest companions, stats-wise, he's actually one of the most intelligent.

Poor planning skills aren't a reflection of intelligence

Yes, Astarion is notoriously terrible at coming up with long-term plans. You know what he also hasn't been able to do for two hundred years? Come up with long-term plans.

He spent about forty years living a normal life, then five times that duration as a slave, being punished for any show of thinking for himself. He tried to make a plan that went against his master's orders, and he spent a year buried alive for it. His only purpose was "to seduce anything with a pulse"; thinking outside of that wasn't just discouraged, it was punished. He's out of practice!

Also, there are a lot of incredibly intelligent people who can't make plans for Assorted Reasons, even without two hundred years of being a puppet to someone else's will. Dyspraxia, ADHD, all sorts of things.

The whole smooth brain thing

This one does bug me, but I also suspect it was a nod to fandom perception. The epilogue has Bing-Bong in it, there were at least parts written well after the game release, and the subsequent fandom response. It's entirely possible, if not likely, that parts of the writing were influenced by fandom perception.

He had low INT in early access

Yes, and they changed it, and he no longer does. Wyll was essentially rewritten between EA and now. Karlach wasn't even a main character in EA. The Dream Visitor was extremely different in EA! Astarion was below average intelligence in EA, and now he's above average ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Neil Newbon says Astarion is intelligent

"I see him as being very intelligent — very erudite — and highly manipulative when he wants to be."

From this interview. I figure he'd know better than anyone save Stephen Rooney, y'know?

The trauma

I mean we can't understate the trauma. The trauma would do a number on your cognitive abilities (and your everything else lbr). And on top of two centuries of going through The Horrors, Cazador repeatedly belittled and infantilised him, hard not to internalise that when Cazador had complete control over his entire existence.

This isn't really meant to be an essay or aimed at anyone in particular and also quite possibly my 'burnt-out gifted kid who valued their intelligence above everything else' is showing but that may be more a Gale thing! Just that the whole 'lmao Astarion is so dumb' trope was bugging me for this, that, and the other reason, so. A post.

[xiathewitch]

𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 (𝐑𝐈𝐈𝐙𝐄) - 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

[21.12.23]

⋆ ₊ ‧ ﾟ𖦹 ° ⋆ ₊ ‧ ﾟ𖦹 ° ⋆ ₊ ‧ ﾟ𖦹 ° ⋆ ₊ ‧ ﾟ𖦹 ° ⋆ ₊

Based on Tarot, Numerology & Destiny Matrix

Lee Chanyoung/Anton Lee personality traits in Positive, Neutral & Negative states

Positive +

Six of Cups, Strength, The Devil rx, Soul Number 8, 6 Arcana

His energy is very welcoming, he is really sweet. Also, 555 came up when I did the reading on him.

Very giving

Sweet & kind

Calming

Joyful

Positive mindset

Soft & caring

Childlike

Like kids

Family-oriented (he really loves his brother)

Not afraid to work hard

Dream big

Good self control

Patient

Confident

Balanced

Neutral

Enjoy material comforts, wealth & pleasure

Like being perceived as successful

Can fall in love easily

Love and communication is important for him

Like aesthetically beautiful things

Naive

Materialistic

Great stamina

Sensitive

Forgive easily

Courageous

Artistic

Negative -

Dissatisfaction with his appearance, body

Problem with learning to love and accept himself

Perfectionism and idealization

Doubts

Often can't start doing something because he thinks he is not good enough

Indecisive (difficulties making decisions and choosing)

Vulnerability

Resentment

Might be manipulative to get attention from people around him or his partner

Shame and guilt

Have a dark side and hide it

Feel guilty to enjoying himself

Scared to be himself

Song that represents his energy:

*everything is here is based on tarot, numerology, destiny matrix, and my intuition. It is all for entertainment purposes only. Things could change and I could be wrong. Please take this with a grain of salt. Thank you.

[eurothug4000]

INTERVIEW WITH SHIGENOBU MATSUYAMA - PRODUCER ON SILENT HILL THE ARCADE

I had the pleasure of interviewing Matsuyama-san, one of the producers on Silent Hill the Arcade! Here's what he had to say :)

Q - How did the idea for Silent Hill The Arcade come to be?

A - During the arcade boom of the 1990s and the 2000s, a desire was born to combine the unique worldview of the Silent Hill series - which was already a very strong IP console game-wise – with the haunted houses one might find in an amusement part. We wanted something that could provide an easy and pleasurable experience to an extremely varied range of customers… as in, the casual users. This is the idea that brought Silent Hill Arcade (SHA in short) to life. However, since our goal was to create a new kind of experience that could not be replicated anywhere else, we designed a game that could make the most effective use of the 5.1ch surround sound system, which was something that arcade games hadn’t adopted until that point, with a type of cabinet that could be somewhat isolated from the rest of the arcade via the use of curtains.

Q - Roughly how long did development for the game take?

A - At the time, the development cycle of an arcade game was so short it would be unimaginable today. The shortest one was around six months, the longest about one year and a half. I think SHA took us around one year and two months.

Q - What parts of development were most enjoyable for you?

A – Usually, arcade games are tested a certain number of times, both during development and just before launch in each and every country where their release has been scheduled (which, for SHA, meant Japan, the US, the UK, Italy, Spain, France, Hong Kong and Singapore). In order to keep the development budget for SHA as low as possible, however, I personally traveled alone to the US for the market testing, assembled the cabinet all by myself, repaired it when it was out of order, and stood next to it for days on end, pen and paper in my hand, ready to collect the players’ data. Game development, nearly 20 years ago, was very much an analog experience. It was also hard work, but when I look back, I have so many good memories of that time.

Q - Do you remember any kinds of ideas that you and the team wanted to include in the game, but didn’t in the end?

A – I’m sure this will sound obvious, since SHA was based on a pre-existing IP, but since the framework was pretty much already set when it came to characters and plot, we had to be extremely careful not to deviate from it so that we wouldn’t create inconsistencies. Personally, I would have loved to take the story in slightly wilder directions and include new and fresh ideas.

Q - I loved seeing so many locations from Silent Hill 3 and 4 make an appearance in the game! Was the team who worked on those two games involved in making any decisions for Silent Hill The Arcade?

A - We of course personally consulted select staff members of Konami, like for example Producer Yamaoka, with whom I had been acquainted with since before SHA. However, most development teams had a mix of internal and external members that changed pretty fluidly with each and every year, so there was no real collaboration between the various teams.

Q - What level of freedom were you given for creating this original story within the Silent Hill universe? Were you given any specific directives on what you could or could not integrate/use in the story?

A - If I have to express my personal point of view on the matter, however, should you compare the storyline for SHA with the timeline of the other games, you would indeed notice a few minor inconsistencies that we were not able to completely solve. That’s something I still have regrets about.

Q - Tell me about translating a traditional survival horror experience into the rail shooter genre and control style. What kind of considerations did you have to make for this?

A - The biggest challenge was by far to design a game system that could be as simple as possible, and to regulate the level of challenge in a way that felt balanced, because we didn't want to force complicated controls or an exceedingly high difficulty level on the casual arcade players. Moreover, there was another balance we had to strike perfectly: more specifically, the one between the aforementioned "haunted house" element - the one that was unique to SHA, with its sequences of terrifying events - and the thrilling playstyle that a rail shooter should provide to the player.

Q - As a final product, what are your personal thoughts on the game?

A - I think it had a state-of-the-art sound system, that the design of the cabinet, with its creepy-looking curtains, made people want to take a peek inside, and that the rail shooting system was simple and could be enjoyed by virtually everyone. I think we managed to combine these various elements with a one-of-a-kind worldview of Silent Hill in a way that was in my opinion pretty good! Of course, each and every member of the staff did their part, and I thank all of them wholeheartedly.

Q - Are you working on anything currently that you’d like me to mention?

A - Feel free to write whatever you prefer! If anything, I should thank you, since you allowed me to walk down the nostalgia lane and recall memories from almost 20 years ago that had been dimmed down by the passage of time. Thank you very much!

Shigenobu Matsuyama's site: shig.jp

[igglemouse]

The sun cast its golden hue over my new town of Oasis Springs as it brought in the hopes of a new day. The simoleons from yesterday a reminder of my success and also what might be possible for me here.

But while I considered my last food sale a financial success it was certainly a failure socially. My mystery guy did not stop by which had me wondering if perhaps I had failed my first impression. Maybe that's not it? Perhaps the waffles left a lingering ill taste on his lips and he's decided my little offerings are just not enough?

Or...maybe he's taken?

I chomp down on my waffle with that thought bouncing through my head. That was far more likely, wasn't it? He was very handsome and I could tell he was brimming with confidence, the odds of a man like that being single? Very very low.

Later in the day, after a shower and some cleaning, my phone rings and it is someone I've met through my food stand but it's not the person I hope. It's Daniella, the girl I met yesterday who came by a little too late for a plate.

After introductions she tells me that she wishes to be my guide for the city. Hinting and teasing at private parties that she can drag me into and perhaps I'm far too eager to tell her I'm down for it because the mysterious tone she takes on after that kind of worries me.

Honestly, I was just being nice. A girl needs friends, doesn't she?

I head outside and set up. Calling out the usual. Waffles, tortillas, brownies, three dishes that were becoming an early staple of mines.

If only the air wasn't different. Less hurried, less eager, and less people. Perhaps it was too dry and just a little too hot but the result? Ninety-six simoleons.

The weight of my daily gains was both light and heavy. I didn't quite reach my goal but I was thankful for every simoleon made. It was a reminder that success would not be achieved in a straight line and that there would be ups and downs along the way.

The sizzle of my pan brings me solace and a promise of a future to come. The simoleons will be there. I'll work hard, I'll learn a new recipe every day, I'll get better and better to where my skills cannot be declined.

I am a student of flavor and my latest design, simple sliders, are sure to help me have my best day. After all, they are small, easy to plate, and even easier to eat. Perfect dish for a food stall, someone can drop their simoleons off on the table and take one to go. If only they are good.

I take a bite, letting the flavors dance around in my mouth. When it comes to any sandwich it's about creating the perfect mix of meat, bread, veggies, and condiments and I think I've hit the spot. It's a small confirmation of my work but not the final one. That test will come with my customers, of course.

The day stretched on with the promise of little which was expected. I figured I would sit down and find something to eat. Maybe even go to a bookstore and pick up recipe books? Something like that, have a quiet night in and prepare for tomorrow.

The ping of my phone presented another idea. The gym. With the curious man whose been lingering on my mind. When he asks I tell him maybe but we all know my curiosity and quite frankly my desire to see him again will not allow me to decline this invitation.

I'm just surprised he was able to find my number?

When I arrived at the gym I wondered how I had ever missed it. It stood large and looming over the busy street, the other businesses clearly benefitting from the crowd that it drew.

Once inside I met our mystery guy and he wasted little time leading me upstairs, claiming that a session would begin soon and he did not have time to waste.

The session? Yoga.

Fortunately, the class was small. Two others, including him, and he of course took a mat behind me. I laughed inwardly but a man will be a man I suppose? If he's going to admire the female form then I suppose I'd rather it be mines than the girl next to him at least.

Either way, the session starts and reluctantly and clumsily I follow the instructor. She starts with easier poses of course. Breathing exercises, she called them, which were more about relaxing and finding your mental center.

Eventually she would move on to more difficult ones. Stretching out legs and balancing on one foot. Nothing impossible for a beginner but I do think we both looked like fools trying to keep up.

We end on the flat of our backs, eyes closed, and letting our muscles find their natural states. Yoga is a lot harder than it looks but I admit it does feel very rewarding? Perhaps it is something I could get into? Especially if our mystery man is into it...

When I first step foot in this gym my first thought was how chilly it was inside. I almost wondered if I should have brought a coat! Now, I'm thankful for it, the cool air was far more welcome after our little workout and I was thankful that it kept my brow from glistening with any sweat as Pascal (that's his name by the way, so no longer a mystery guy to me) pulled me over for a conversation. A 'get to know each other' conversation, by the way, and thankfully in Selvadoradian so that saves him having to hear my terrible accent.

"So why this?" I ask. "Why yoga?"

"Orders of the captain," he says casually, as if I'm supposed to know what that means. Is he a sailor or... "He says it helps with the flexibility, prevents injuries, and helps with mental focus. All important on the field."

The field? I was still confused until I thought on it a moment longer. He's talking about a sport.

"I kick a ball for a living," he assists, that confident tone of his pulling me in closer.

So this is who I sat across from, Pascal Alcocer, a name that in itself seemed to carry a significance to it. At least to him. To me it was but another name. I think he liked that, he liked that I was ignorant of who he was. Perhaps it's why he's interested in me.

"You've never heard of me? Truly?" he seems sincerely confused. I just stare at him and shake my head. Revealing that I'm really no big fan of sports ball. Oh, don't get me wrong, fútbol as it is called back home is massive but it simply never pulled me in. It's just a bunch of people kicking a ball around in the end.

"I'm sorry," suddenly I feel ignorant. Here is this great athlete, presumably, setting out time to get to know me because he feels like I should already know him. "I just don't watch-"

"No! Please! Frida, is it?" I nod and bite down on my lip, my name seemed to slip so naturally from his lips. "It's refreshing, actually."

I am sure it is. If he's a big time athlete I can imagine he has women buzzing around him daily. Throwing themselves at him, begging for a moment of his attention and wanting a lot more. The more I think about it, the more I dislike it. Dating a man like this would be stressful, wouldn't it?

As I think about it he tells me more about himself. He's a young player with a lot of promise, a 'midfielder', he tells me. That word is filled with pride. I have no idea what it means but I can tell just by how he says it that its a special role on the team, perhaps like that of a sous chef? Either way, he says he plays for Oasis FC which again has little meaning to me beyond the fact that he plays for a professional team but he assures me he's not the big deal some make him out to be.

"I still have lots to prove. I don't quite have that big contract yet but everyone thinks it's a matter of time," he leans back as he says this, realizing that he's spent most of the time talking.

"Sounds like a lot of pressure," I say finally.

He gives me a stern nod and waves away that thought entirely. "I'd rather have the expectations to be great than be regarded as a failure...so, what about you?"

"Oh," where do I go from there? "I just opened up a stall and hope to see where it goes?" Watcher that sounds so lame in comparison. "I just enjoy cooking I guess and-"

"You are adorable, do you know that?"

Well that has me chewing on my lip again and has my face feeling a little warm.

"I-I like you too..."

I find the comfort of a bar soon after, too restless to head home and needing a drink to think on the night I've had with Pascal. First impression? I was impressed.

Sure, the man was so full of confidence that it was bordering on cockiness but I have a feeling that it takes pure arrogance to become a professional athlete.

It was also very clear that was into me. After all, he sought out my number and invited me to a gym and made sure he had a good look of me. Should that make me happy or should I worry that he's a teeny bit pervy?

I don't know. The good thing about a drink is that it allows me to not overthink any of what happened and look forward to seeing him again which, according to him, will be sometime tomorrow...

Episode List - Next

The wonderful public gym lot is by @streneesims

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: this one was fuuuun. this is the kind of extra wag i would be so i loved coming up with the little ideas lol. and yes, the photo in the cover is one i took at josh bailey’s 1000th game ceremony 😌 also, happy birthday to the big boy! legit can’t believe i got this done in time, but that’s what happens when it’s a cold and miserable rainy saturday in new york lol

word count: 8.1k 😅

tw: two smut scenes

summary: it’s andrei’s 1000th game and ceremony!

You let your fingertips trace lightly over the back of Andrei’s neck. His face is mashed into the pillow, cheek pressed flat, and a low hum is drawn from his throat. It’s still early, before either of your alarms are set to go off, but you couldn’t sleep very well. With cranky kids and the anticipation of today, you managed a few hours of tossing and turning before finally giving up.

“Solnyshka?” Andrei mumbles your nickname and your fingers still. You hadn’t really wanted to wake him up.

“Go back to sleep,” you whisper, pulling your hand back to your body.

He hums again and rolls onto his side, blinking warm brown eyes at you as he wakes up a little more. “Wasn’t asleep,” he says, a yawn cutting through his words and proving his lie.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” you apologize, still propped up on your elbow.

Andrei squints at the alarm clock over your shoulder - the clock blinks 4:30 in red numbers - and shrugs with the shoulder not pressed into the mattress. “I think the crack of dawn is the only time we get to be alone anymore,” he laughs, reaching for you and pulling you into his arms.

You snuggle against his broad chest, brushing your nose against his collarbone. After a few moments of silence, you murmur, “big day today.”

“Mhm,” Andrei hums against your hair.

“A thousand games,” you continue, completely awed by your husband. “That’s, Drei, that’s so amazing.”

“It doesn’t feel real,” he admits, chuckling a bit. “It feels like another game day.”

At the end of the day, it really is just another game, but it’s also a cumulation of all the hard work Andrei’s put in over the last fifteen years. Not many players make it to a thousand games and you’re indescribably proud of Andrei for reaching the milestone.

You tangle your legs with his. “It’s a big day though. Even if the ceremony isn’t until this weekend.”

Even though his thousandth game is a Monday night home game, it was worked out that the ceremony would be on Saturday, since that game is an afternoon one - making it so much easier to bring the girls to the game. Only Evie, at six, would be able to handle the 7:30 ceremony start time and even she could be questionable, depending on the mood she comes home from school in. No, it’s so much easier to corral three girls in the middle of the afternoon.

“I’m glad you and Mama and Papa are coming tonight though,” he says, twisting your hair in his fingers. Your parents are coming over to watch the girls, that way you can join Andrei’s parents at the game. It works out for everyone - the girls get time with their grandparents and you get a child-free night to drink a cocktail and enjoy watching your husband play. Elena and Igor have been in town for a week and are staying for another two, that way they can be there for the ceremony and to spend time with the girls too.

“I don’t know who’s going to cry more tonight, me or your mom,” you tease, knowing Elena will probably take top prize. She’s been watching Andrei live his childhood dream for longer than you have.

Andrei laughs lowly and lets his hands roam over your back. You can tell he’s getting introspective, thinking about his career to this point, and you kiss his sternum. Your hand slides up under the hem of his shirt - the days of sleeping naked are long over for you both, with the oldest two girls constantly getting out of their beds to crash in yours. His skin is warm under your touch and Andrei sighs, his stomach contracting as your fingers dance over the ridged muscles.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, throwing your leg over his hip and rolling Andrei onto his back. His erection is hot and hard against your thigh and you grin down at him. “One thousand games,” you says, wiggling your eyebrows, “your stamina is impressive, Mister Svechnikov.”

His grin is all teeth and dimples. “I’ll show you stamina,” he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. He pulls you forward so you rub over his cock and you gasp at the contact, even though the layers of his boxer-briefs and your panties. You lean down, one hand braced next to his head, and kiss him deeply, rolling your hips over his.

Andrei bites your lower lip gently, sucking it into his mouth. One of his hands slides under your oversized shirt, his fingers playing at the edges of your panties, brushing sensitive skin. “Drei,” you gasp his name when his fingers disappear under the damp fabric, sliding against your skin. His thumb finds your clit and he presses down, surging up to capture your moan with his mouth.

“I was supposed to take care of you,” you mutter, clenching around Andrei’s fingers. “We’re celebrating your achievement.”

He laughs. “Maybe this is how I want to celebrate, solnyshka.”

You grind down on him and he groans, involuntarily bucking his hips up into yours.

“Mama?” A little voice breaks through the fuzz in your brain and you yelp, rolling off of Andrei with a painful tweak of your hip. His hand is still halfway caught in your panties and he mutters a string of Russian curses.

You lift your head and there’s Alina, backlit by the light from the hallway, clutching her stuffed puppy by the ears. Her eyes are wide in her face and she looks near tears.

“Alya, what happened?” You ask, trying to keep your tone soothing even as your heart is pounding out of your chest.

Your four-year-old rubs at her eyes and her lower lip wobbles, “I had a bad dream.”

Andrei looks over at you, holding his breath a little. He closes his eyes and it looks like he’s trying to do extremely complex math in his head. You sigh. “Baby, it was just a dream and it’s early, why don’t you go back to bed?”

“Can I sleep with you and Daddy?” She asks, eyes welling with tears. She chews on one of the dog’s ears and you melt.

“Come on up, Alya,” Andrei sighs and you really wish you hadn’t gotten as far as you did before Alina interrupted. She comes running for the bed and flings her little body at the mattress, needing Andrei’s help to climb on completely. She clambers over his body and tucks herself against your side.

You cuddle her close and she twists her little fingers in your shirt. Over her head, you catch Andrei’s eye and mouth, “to be continued.”

He grins and whispers, “I’m holding you to that.”

Alina falls back asleep quickly, ending up horizontal with her feet in Andrei’s side and her head on your chest. You stroke her hair off her face and close your own eyes. The next time you wake up, it’s to the buzzing of your 6 a.m. alarm. Andrei’s getting up too, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Glad we went for the California King,” you comment, tucking the sheet around Alina’s starfished form. Andrei settles her stuffed dog within arm’s reach.

“For such a little thing, she takes up so much room,” he laughs, greeting you with a kiss. “Good morning.”

“For the second time,” you laugh. “You ready for the day?”

“It’s just a game, solnyshka,” he repeats his earlier refrain, but you can see the extra spark in his eyes. He tangles his hand in your hair and pulls your head back gently to kiss you.

You blink a little when he pulls back, resting your hands on his hips. “You’re allowed to be excited, Drei. You’re allowed to think it’s a big deal,” you say. “To get here, after the pandemic seasons, after your ACL, this is such an achievement.”

He sighs. “I know,” his forehead furrows. “I think it’s just…so much of hockey is behind me now. Not that much left in front of me.”

Oh.

This is his hockey mid-life crisis.

“Drei, baby, you still have so much time left to play,” you smooth your hands through his hair. “I bet you have another seven, eight years of playing.”

He drops his forehead to yours. “Thank you, solnyshka. I’ll get excited, I just need to start the day.”

“Well, you can go handle Evie wake-up then,” you smile. “She’ll put you in a good mood.”

Andrei beams and bounces off out of the room. He and Evie have the exact same personality and you know that by the time you get ready and get Kira up, father and daughter will have already had each other in spasms of laughter and Andrei will be less in his head. You leave Alina sleeping and change quickly into jeans and a sweater. You’ve found that you get so much more done when you put on real clothes.

“Good morning, my little chickadee,” you coo, spotting Kira standing up in her crib.

The eighteen-month-old gives you a big toothy smile and shouts, “mama!” while making grabby-hands at you. Her hair, blonde fuzz at birth and turning darker by the day, is sticking out all over the place. You lift her onto your hip, pressing kisses all over her face, making her laugh.

“You woke up on the right side of the crib today, huh?” You laugh, making quick work of her diaper and dressing her in a little lounge set. You smooth down her hair and use a little bow to keep it in place.

“See Dada!” She grins and you shake your head. Of course.

You pull a face at your youngest. “You want to see Dada? Everyone wants to see Dada today.”

Evie’s bedroom door is open and you poke your head inside, but her bed is empty. There’s noise coming from the kitchen and you follow the sounds, walking in on Andrei and Evie making eggs. Andrei has Evie standing on a step stool and he’s guiding her hand while the scrambled eggs cook. Evie’s dancing on the stool, wiggling her little body along to a tune only she knows. “Hey, remember, we have to be careful when cooking, right?” Andrei reminds her, tapping her shoulder so she can focus.

“Dada!” Kira shrieks, drawing Evie and Andrei’s attention. Andrei’s smile widens and Evie jumps down from the stool to rush over and squish Kira’s cheeks in between her hands.

“Hiiii Kira,” she singsongs, brown eyes dancing when her baby sister giggles. You grin at the sight and set Kira on her feet. Evie plops down on the floor to entertain her sister and you take the opportunity to take over the egg making from Andrei.

He kisses your cheek, “I’ll be right back. Going to get ready.”

“Don’t wake the bear,” you warn, knowing Alina will be a holy terror if she doesn’t get enough sleep. Andrei salutes you, smirking, well aware of the perils of waking your middle daughter.

You finish the eggs, doling them out on plates for everyone and add toast and fruit to the girls’ plates before starting a protein shake for Andrei. “Okay, little misses, breakfast,” you announce, setting the plates on the table. Evie climbs into her seat and digs in, Kira slower behind.

With her mouth full of partially chewed food, Evie asks, “Mama, can I stay home from school and play with the sissies?”

“Chew, please,” you remind her, putting Kira in the highchair and giving her a strip of toast. “And no. You have to go to school, but remember Nana and Pop are going to be here when you get home.”

“Oh right!” She bounces in her seat, messy blonde hair flying everywhere. Where this kid gets so much energy at seven in the morning, well, you know it comes from Andrei, but you wish you could bottle it. “How come they’re gonna be here? It’s Monday.”

You scrape at the frying pan. “Remember today is a special day for Daddy, he’s played one thousand hockey games.”

Evie’s eyes go comically wide. “That’s a lotta hockey,” she says seriously.

“It is a lot of hockey,” you agree. “So I’m going to the game to cheer him on.”

You conveniently leave out the fact that Elena and Igor are coming too, because if Evie gets wind of the fact that Andrei’s parents are going, she’ll absolutely insist on coming. You love how much the girls love their grandparents, but tonight is not the night for wrangling children.

“Can we watch Daddy play on the TV?” She asks, propping her chin in her hand.

“Sure can,” you nod, putting the frying pan back in the cabinet. “But you have to go to bed when Nana and Pop say so.”

Kira drops a handful of egg on the floor and you sort of wish you had a dog to hoover it up, but three kids and a dog, when Andrei’s out of town half the time? No way in hell was that happening. Instead, you wipe up the eggs and point at Evie, “please go get dressed okay? And do not wake up your sister.”

Evie nods and shoves another strawberry in her mouth, running off upstairs while you shout after her to chew. You look at Kira, with her strawberry covered face and toothy grin, and wrinkle your nose at her, “today is a crazy day, huh, chickadee?”

“Kay-zee!” Kira chirps, mimicking you.

You get her cleaned up and by then, Andrei’s back downstairs with Evie clinging to his back and Alina wrapped like a koala around his leg. He grins at you, clearly thrilled by the chaos. “Alya has decided that she’s going to drive Evie to school today,” he informs you.

“Oh, is that right?” You raise an eyebrow down at your middle daughter. “When did you get a driver’s license?”

Alina, the cheeky little child, pipes up, “I don’t even need one ‘cause I’m fast like a runner and I can drive better than Daddy.”

Her explanation makes zero sense, but then again, half of what she says is insanity, so you just nod. “How about you have some breakfast and then you can take Evie to school?”

“Is it oatmeal?” Alina unhooks from Andrei’s leg and scampers to the table, peeking over the top.

“Yes, it’s oatmeal,” you reply, grabbing her under the armpits and swooping her up onto the chair. Alina’s on an oatmeal kick. It’s all she wants to eat and you’re tired of coming up with different way to doctor it up so she’s getting nutrients. Andrei had the genius idea of pureeing beets into it for dinner the other night and calling it Barbie oatmeal. Alone ate it up, literally and figuratively.

Andrei sucks back his protein shake, listening intently as Evie tells him all about her playground drama. She tells the story with her whole body, hands flying in the air, facial expressions exaggerated. Andrei provides the appropriate reactions too, gasping in shock when he’s supposed to. “Okay,” he cuts in apologetically, “finish the story on the road, zaychik. You’re going to be late.”

“I’m coming too!” Alina shrieks from the table, still dressed in her pajamas. Andrei laughs and gathers her up in his arms.

“Of course, we can’t go anywhere without the driver,” he kisses her forehead and ushers both girls out of the house, all three of them shouting good-bye to you.

Once the door closes behind them, the silence is deafening. You blink and lean against the counter, always a little dazed after the morning routine. Kira sighs in her highchair and pouts, “sissers?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “your sisters are gone for now. But they’ll be back, don’t you worry.”

Andrei returns an hour later with Alina in his arms and a carry-out tray of coffees. Alina nibbles happily on a cake pop and you shoot Andrei a look.

“It was this or have her keep screaming bloody murder in the middle of Starbucks,” he mutters, setting her down on the couch. “I chose sugar.”

“Wise man,” you say, taking your coffee from the holder and sucking back a huge sip. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.”

Andrei works on his own coffee - an iced white chocolate mocha - even as you tease him for his sweet tooth. He’s nonplussed, used to the ribbing from the boys. Once you’re both caffeinated, you split the morning tasks, Andrei taking the kitchen and keeping a vague eye on Alina and Kira in the living room, and you heading upstairs to make bed and clean up the clothes that have been left out.

You meet back up in the kitchen with the house a little tidier than before. “Morning skate is 11:45 today,” Andrei says, reading from a text. “So I should be home around 1:30?”

“Perfect, just in time to nap with the zoo animals and eat dinner,” you lean up to kiss him quickly. “Any special requests for dinner?”

Andrei shrugs, “whatever you’re making is fine. I’m not picky.” A slow, lazy smile curls at his lips, “I do know what I want for dessert though.”

“I’ll make something special,” you decide, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and the rush of want in your stomach. You’re still thinking about the denied orgasm from this morning.

“Daddy!” Alina shouts. “Come watch Bluey with me.”

“Duty calls,” you giggle, watching Andrei head into the living room. He sits on the couch and Alina and Kira are immediately draped over his lap. Alina has her little water bottle in one hand and her leg kicked up in the air, singing along to the Bluey theme song and Kira has her thumb planted in her mouth. Your heart melts when you see Andrei gently dislodge her thumb, holding her little hand with his so she can’t try and suck her thumb again.

Eventually, he has to get up, apologizing to the girls for having to leave. They pout and cry and reach for him and you can see Andrei’s heart break at having to go to work. You distract them with crayons as best as you can and pull them into hugs and a silly dance when he leaves.

Luckily, twenty minutes after Andrei leaves, Elena and Igor are at the door. Babushka and dedushka are the perfect distraction for when the girls miss Daddy.

“Baba! Dedu!” Alina shrieks, flinging her body into Igor’s knees. He laughs and lifts her onto his hip, kissing her cheek. “Come watch Bluey with me!”

Elena smothers Kira in kisses and you thank God that they’re laughing again, not crying. “That is the little dog, yes?” She asks Alina, shooting you a little wink.

“Yes! Bluey and Bingo are puppies,” Alina informs her grandmother very seriously. “And they’re sisters like me an’ Evie an’ Kira. And like Daddy and Uncle Geno!”

“Daddy and Uncle Geno are brothers,” you correct Alina, laughing.

“No, they’re sisters like me!” She pouts stubbornly.

It’s useless to try and fight with her, so you just nod and get the girls set up with Bluey. The screen time isn’t your favorite, but needs must. Once they’re distracted, you grin widely and turn to Elena. “I am so glad you guys are here. We have like an hour and half before Drei gets back from morning skate. I have a banner ready to be hung up, balloons in the garage, a cake in the downstairs fridge, and my parents should be here within the hour with Evie.”

You have a whole little surprise party planned for when Andrei gets back from morning skate and you’re so excited to pull it all together. Andrei’s parents jump in to help, decorating the open plan of the living room and kitchen and setting Kira and Alina up with crayons and construction paper to make cards.

“How do you spell bestest daddy in the whole world?” Alina asks, printing her name in big letters under a crayon drawing of Andrei and Stormy the pig. Elena sits down in one of the child-sized chairs and suggests that she help Alina write out her message. You four-year-old concedes the crayon to her grandmother with a benevolent sigh.

The house is mostly decorated when the front door bangs open and Evie rushes inside, her princess backpack bouncing against her back. “Mama!” she shouts, breathless. “Did you know Nana and Pop took me outta school early?”

Her eyes widen as she takes in the decorations and Andrei’s parents. You wait, totally delighted by the shock on her face.

“Oh my gosh! Baba and Dedu are here too?” She yelps, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is the BEST DAY EVER!”

Evie discards her backpack, jacket, and sneakers in a heap and throws herself into Elena’s arms for a hug. She kisses her cheek and snuggles up before whipping her head over to look at you, “wait, Mama, does Daddy know that EVERYONE is here? Because he didn’t say a single word!”

“Daddy doesn’t know,” you grin, picking up her backpack. “It’s a surprise for his special game, so why don’t you take your sisters upstairs and put on the shirts that are on your beds? Then you can come back and make Daddy a card.”

“Oh, I’m gonna make the best card ever!” She leaps off Elena’s lap and grabs Kira under the armpits, hauling her to her feet, much to the toddler’s protests. “Come on, Kiry, Mommy said to go change.”

“No!” Kira shrieks and your mom cuts in to hoist Kira onto her hip and usher Evie and Alina from the room, saying, “let’s not get your sister upset before your dad comes home. How about we practice our surprise faces!”

You look around at the adults and sigh, “seriously, thank you all so much for your help. I don’t think I could’ve wrangled them all on my own and get this set up.”

“We’re just so excited to celebrate Andrei,” Elena claps her hands together. “This is such a big moment for him.”

“He’s going to be so surprised,” you giggle just thinking about his reaction. “Oh, I wish he’d get home now.”

It’ll be at least another twenty or thirty minutes before he’s home, so once the girls are back downstairs in their matching shirts (red, with black wording proclaiming “Daddy’s 1000th Game!” with the date underneath and Svechnikov scrawled across the backs- an Etsy purchase you were extremely thrilled with), you set them to finishing their cards and drawings. Now that everything’s calmed down a bit, you inscribe your own message on the card you had also special ordered from Etsy (a cartoon-ish drawing of Andrei from the back with the Canes’ logo and a prominent 1,000 across the top).

Andrei texts that he’s on the way and you grin, “okay, be ready! Should we hide? No that’s silly. Just, we’ll all be in the living room with the balloons. That’s perfect.”

Evie and Alina are vibrating with excitement and Kira is in your dad’s arms, very ready for her nap. You just hope she’ll hold out for the surprise.

You’re checking Find My Friends, and once you spot Andrei’s little dot pulling into the driveway, you usher everyone into place. “Okay, girls, remember when Daddy comes in, we’re all going to shout ‘congratulations’.” You nod at them and they nod back, understanding the assignment.

The excitement builds and you’re ready to burst when Andrei finally gets through the door and shouts, “solnyshka, I’m back!”

You press your finger to your lips at the girls and then call out, “I’m in the living room, Drei!”

The second Andrei is in sight, you all shout, “CONGRATULATIONS!” and he rears back a step or two, clearly surprised. The girls rush him, grabbing at his legs and he rests his hands on their heads, trying to get oriented. Your heart skips when he takes in the banner pinned to the wall - CONGRATULATIONS ON 1000 ANDREI - and the gold mylar balloons, a one, three zeros, and a capital K, floating underneath.

“I…what?” He’s speechless.

“Daddy, you played so much hockey!” Evie yelps, tugging at his jacket sleeve. “Mama said we get to celebrate you!”

“I maded a picture!” Alina shoves the construction paper in his face and Andrei laughs.

“This is…I’m overwhelmed, solnyshka,” he says, giant grin on his face. He’s hefted both girls into his arms and they wrap their little arms around his neck in hugs.

You dance over to him and lean up to kiss him softly. “Are you surprised?” You beam and he nods.

“Very!”

He kisses his mother and your mother hello and somehow ends up with Kira in his arms too. That reminds you, before she ends up conking out for a nap, you want to get a picture. You hand your phone to Elena and pose with Andrei and the girls under the banner. You give each girl a zero balloon and Andrei takes the one, leaving you with the K. “Say one thousand!”

The girls chorus as best they can, smiling for the camera.

Looking at the pictures, you can see just how much each girl looks like Andrei. The four of them have matching brown eyes, all used to varying success when trying to manipulate you into doing something. Evie looks the most like Andrei, but Alina has his nose and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Kira has his smile - dimple and all - which means you love that she’s such a happy kid. It used to drive you crazy, how little they looked like you, but now you just love having your mini-Andrei clones.

Kira’s nodding off in Andrei’s arms and you send him off for his pre-game nap. The two older girls follow along like ducklings and you know they’ll all climb into bed with him and snuggle until you wake them up. He kisses you on his way upstairs, murmuring, “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“We love you,” you reply simply.

After an hour or so, once you’re done making an early dinner for Andrei, you head upstairs to wake him up so he can get ready. As you thought, the girls are all nestled in bed with him, looking sweet and peaceful while they sleep. You snap a quick picture and thread your fingers through Andrei’s hair to wake him up.

“Hey Sleeping Beauty,” you whisper. “Time for you to get ready for the main event.”

He chuckles and rolls onto his side to look at you. “You’re amazing,” he whispers back. “My parents, the decorations, the matching shirts. It’s a lot.”

“More where that came from,” you wiggle your eyebrows and step over to your dresser, pulling out a small wrapped box. “A little gift,” you say, placing it on the mattress next to his hand.

Being careful not to wake the girls, Andrei shifts so he’s sitting up and carefully unwraps the gift. A pair of silver cuff links glint up at him, engraved with the Canes logo and a little 1K on one and the date on the other. Andrei smiles slowly as he takes them in and swallows back emotion. “Thank you, solnyshka,” he murmurs, cupping your face in one hand. “I love them.” He brings your face to his and kisses you deeply.

“Wear them tonight for luck,” you murmur against his lips, your forehead resting against his.

PNC is louder than you’ve ever heard it when you get there later. There’s a buzz in their air and you decide to take a lap of the concourse while Elena and Igor go to the seats. There’s more Svechnikov jerseys being worn than you’ve ever seen and everyone seems to be talking about Andrei’s milestone. You’re sure you look crazy, wandering around with a smile on your face, but you’re so proud of him and everything he’s accomplished. A few fans recognize you from social media and stop to say hi and ask you to congratulate Andrei for them.

That’s one of the things you’ve loved over the years being with Andrei and living in Raleigh - the fans are incredible and most of them are so polite and friendly. It feels like you’re celebrating Andrei with thousands of your friends.

Just before warmups start, you shoot Andrei your usual pre-game text and include a selfie, blowing him a kiss.

He sends back a selfie where he’s doing a thumbs-up in full gear, Pyotr and Sebastian photobombing in the background. The picture makes you laugh and you join Elena and Igor at your seats.

The three of you are decked out in Canes gear - matching Svechnikov jerseys included. Elena’s is bedazzled and she keeps catching the light from the overheads. “One thousand games,” she says, already looking a little teary. “From when he was a little boy and the stick was nearly bigger than he was, to all this.” She waves her hand in a vague gesture encompassing the inside of the arena.

Igor rubs her shoulder, smiling. “It’s been a ride, hasn’t it?”

You’re getting emotional now too and wipe carefully at your eyes when the guys start onto the ice for warmups. You spot Andrei immediately, even though, as a tribute, all the guys are wearing Svechnikov 37 jerseys. You laugh, not realizing that the team was going to do that. You’re sure Andrei is embarrassed as hell, but you take plenty of pictures, warmth settling in your stomach. Andrei tosses pucks over the glass to some of the kids gathered and waves to the crowd. His smile is evident even from a distance.

Andrei is in the starting line and the crowd erupts when he’s announced. You and Elena simultaneously reach for each other’s hands, screaming and cheering his name. The puck drops and Andrei’s officially off, playing in his one thousandth NHL game.

The game itself is nothing out of the ordinary - a Canes win, with Andrei picking up points for a goal and an assist. He’s named the first star of the game and you’re pretty sure you scream yourself hoarse cheering for him.

By the time all the fun is done, Elena and Igor head back to their hotel and you head home to relieve your parents and wait for Andrei. The girls are long passed out, Evie and Alina snuggled together in the guest bed. You’re curious as to how that happened, but if they stay asleep, you don’t really care.

“They were so cute,” your mom says, showing you a video of the two oldest girls cheering in front of the TV. “Evie kept saying how her dad’s the best hockey player of all time.”

You snort a laugh, “I think Wayne Gretzky might have something to say about that, but yeah. we’re pretty fond of number thirty seven in this house.”

“Neither one made it past the half-way point of the first,” your dad adds. “I think it may have been the sugar crash.”

“Yeah, I noticed that there’s very little cake left,” you reply, shooting both your parents a side-eye. “Thanks for that.”

They shrug, non-repentant grandparents spoiling the grandkids, and you thank them for babysitting, kissing them good-bye. Andrei should be home in a little bit, so you tidy up and change into something else - the red and black lingerie set purchased specifically for this occasion - and settle on the couch to scroll social media until he comes home.

You hear the car pull into the driveway and bounce up, kneeling on the couch and looking over the back of it towards the door. A few minutes later, Andrei comes inside quietly, not wanting to wake the girls. You hop off the couch and rush to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. He catches you easily and huffs in surprise.

“I am so proud of you,” you whisper in between short kisses. Your hands cradle his face and your thumbs stroke his cheekbones. “Did you hear how crazy the arena was? That’s all for you.”

“It was exciting,” he admits, grinning. “But, uh, I like this better.” His hand palms your ass, fingers catching on the lace.

“Good,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can I take it off of you now?” He asks, very politely, even though his eyes are more pupil than iris and his fingers are slipping under the hem of the lace.

You nod, giggling when he practically runs up the stairs to your room. He sets you on the bed gently and leans one knee on the edge of the mattress, grabbing hold of your ankles and pulling you towards him. His hands are warm and rough over your skin and it would be embarrassing how wet you are for him if you hadn’t been married to him for so many years and he wasn’t so handsome.

“This was the best day, solnyshka,” he murmurs, lifting one leg so he can kiss the inside of your ankle. You shiver at the caress of his hot breath on your skin.

“I’m glad,” you sigh, cutting off into a little whine when Andrei lets go of your leg to take off his suit jacket and toss it to the floor. The cuff links glint in the dim lighting and it’s practically Pavlovian how you react to the clinking of Andrei undoing his belt buckle.

He looms over you, belt undone and fly of his pants open. You reach up and grab at his tie, yanking his face down to yours so you can kiss him, your other hand tangling in his hair. Andrei traces his tongue over your lower lip, smoothing his hand over your hip and trailing his fingers to the front of your panties, pressing against damp fabric hard enough to have your hips bucking involuntarily.

You gasp, breaking the kiss. “I’m hoping the girls stay asleep,” you laugh, breathless, “but I don’t know if we’ll be able to make tonight a long one.”

“That’s fine,” Andrei laughs, carefully undoing the cuff links and his watch and setting them on his night table. He rolls up the sleeves of his button down and you stare at the prominent veins on his forearms. “I’ve been waiting to get my dick into you all day, ever since this morning. I can’t wait much longer.”

Your legs fall open and Andrei grins. “I don’t think I can wait too much longer either,” you confess, arching your back when Andrei pulls you closer and hooks your ankles at his shoulders. He’s kneeling a bit and his mouth is on you immediately, tongue flattening over you through lace. “Ohhh fuck, Drei!” you yelp, instinctively clenching your thighs together.

He chuckles and keeps your legs spread, holding your ass with one hand and pushing aside the lace with the other. “Solnyshka, you promised me dessert,” he brushes his nose against the juncture of your thighs. “I’m starving.”

“I…oh, god, right there,” your hands fist the sheets, heels scrabbling against Andrei’s shoulders while he gets to work. He licks and sucks, heat and desire pooling low in your stomach. His nose bumps against your clit and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your scream.

“Too bad we’re not alone,” he murmurs, scrapping. his teeth and stubble over your heated flesh. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Next time -“ you break off into a muffle moan when he clamps his lips around your clit and sucks, once, hard, your vision briefly going white when you come. “Fuck,” you mumble, boneless.

Andrei’s head pops up from in between your legs, the lower half of his face wet and shining. He’s got that mischievous twinkle in his eyes and he kisses the inside of your knee. “That’s one,” he says.

“One?” you murmur, registering that he’s releasing your legs and discarding his tie and button down.

“Mhm,” he hums, grasping himself through the fabric of his boxer-briefs and stroking a few times. “If the rest of the day was about celebrating me, tonight is about celebrating you. I couldn’t have made it a thousand games without you by my side for over six hundred of them.”

His face is soft, boyish, when he says it, love for you written all over his features.

You giggle a little, “has it really been that many games?”

Andrei lies down on the mattress next to you and your hand comes up to trace the angles of his collarbone. He shivers a little under your light touch. “Doesn’t feel like it, right?” He asks, pulling you closer and kissing you sweetly.

“Time really flew,” you sigh, swinging a leg over Andrei’s hip and pushing at the waistband of his suit pants and underwear. “One thousand games, ten years, and three kids,” you smile down at him, wrapping your hands around his cock and pulling it out so it curves up towards his stomach. “How did we get so lucky?”

“Because you’re the rock,” he says, tangling his fingers in the lace at your waist. He tugs, not gently, and it rips, baring you to him.

“Hey!” You laugh, faux-indignant, “I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you more,” he promises, lifting you by the hips and guiding you so you’re hovering over him. You brace your hands on his chest and nod and he settles you down. You sink onto him until he’s fully inside of you and it’s the best feeling. You roll your hips slightly and Andrei groans. “Right there, solnyshka.”

Neither one of you talks while you settle into a rhythm, just enjoying the feeling of each other’s bodies. Andrei brushes his fingers against your clit, beads of sweat gathering at your hairline while your thighs tremble from riding him. He rolls you onto your back and kisses your neck, thrusting into you. With the change in position, you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the hard muscle of his ass. The chain around his neck sways as he thrusts, bumping against your chin.

Your nails dig into his back, scratching his skin and Andrei grunts, sucking a mark behind your ear. “Moya koroleva,” he mumbles. “Love of my life, come for me. I want to see you fall apart.”

Starbursts blink in your vision and Andrei slips one hand between your bodies, his fingers slipping over the swollen bud of your clit. You cry out and Andrei muffles the sound with a kiss, pumping into you twice more before you’re pushed over the edge and coming around him. He keeps kissing you until he’s done filling you and then you’re both limp and splayed out on the bed. Andrei’s body is half on top of yours, his weight crushing in a good way. He kicks his legs lazily, discarding his suit pants and boxer-briefs to the floor. You huff a laugh into his neck, “I can’t believe you just fucked me with your pants on like we’re a pair of horny teenagers.”

“You said we might be interrupted,” he protests, kissing your shoulder. His teeth snag on the strap of your lingerie and he pouts. “I wanted to rip this off with my teeth.”

“Another night,” you push at his shoulder so he’ll roll off of you. You need to go pee before you get back in bed. After you clean yourself up and make your way back to bed, you find Andrei back in his boxer-briefs and under the covers. He smiles sleepily at you, that post-orgasm haze in his eyes, and opens his arms.

You climb in and tuck yourself against his side, playing with the chain around his neck. “Just think, we get to do this all over again on Saturday, you know, celebrate you,” you say around a yawn.

“Do you have another one of these little sets waiting?” Andrei teases, running a finger over the lace cup.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You tangle your legs with his and before you know it, you’re both asleep.

The week speeds by in a blur of travel for Andrei and child-rearing for you, until all of a sudden it’s Saturday morning and the house is happy chaos. All four grandparents arrived bright and early, bringing coffee and breakfast, so you don’t have to cook and make a mess. There’s no morning skate since it’s a noon start time, but Andrei still has to get to the arena early and he leaves while the girls are still asleep, kissing you goodbye and wishing you luck.

“Thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“I’ll see you soon,” he winks.

The grandparents are lifesavers and help get the girls dressed - all in matching Svechnikov jerseys, little black tutus, and red cowboy boots. Evie had picked the outfits and it’s honestly the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Mama, do I get to make a speech?” Evie asks while you fix her hair in two little space buns on the top of her head.

You smother a laugh and reply, “no, baby. No speeches. But we get to walk out on the ice and Daddy’s going to get some presents from the team and there will be a little video.”

“Oh,” she squints at her reflection in the mirror thoughtfully. “Am I in the video?”

“No again, little bug. It’s a video about Daddy’s time playing hockey and his teammates will talk about him. Is that okay with you?” You tie off the second space bun.

Evie nods, “yeah, since Daddy plays so much hockey I think it’s okay that the video is only about him.”

“That’s very generous of you,” you pat her on the shoulder. “Now please go sit with Pop and Dedushka until it’s time to leave.”

She scampers off, tutu swishing, and you check in with the moms - yours has Kira and Andrei’s has Alina. Everything is handled there, so you take the time to get yourself ready, curling your hair and doing your makeup before getting dressed. You’re all ready to go by 10:30, which feels like a miracle. The drive to the arena is smooth and the girls are beyond excited when they get to go through the back entrance and wait outside the locker room.

Andrei, dressed in full gear, steps out and they rush him, shouting “Daddy!” He gathers them into his arms and kisses their cheeks. “You two look like supermodels,” he grins. “Did you bring me a tutu too?”

“No, Daddy!” Alina giggles. “That’s silly!”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Are you ready to get on the ice?”

Evie nods and wriggles out of his arms to bounce in her boots. “Can we say hi to everyone?” She tries to look around Andrei into the locker room, but you snag her hand to hold her back.

“They have to get ready for the game and we have to get into our spots, okay?” You explain. “Plus we have to go get babushka and dedushka, they’re coming onto the ice with us.”

“Oh!” Evie’s eyes go wide. “Can they skate too?”

Andrei laughs a little. “There’s going to be a carpet, no one is skating, zaychik.”

“That stinks,” Evie mutters. “I’m really good at skating, I could’ve showed everybody.”

She pouts the entire way back up to the suite, until a pretzel is handed to her by your dad and she’s all smiles again. You leave your purse and everyone’s jackets with your parents and settle in to watch a little bit of warmups before you’re ushered back down to wait in the zamboni tunnel while warmups end and the carpet gets laid out.

You hold Kira on your hip and Andrei’s parents gently usher the older girls out to meet Andrei on the ice. He grins and kisses you on the cheek and then kisses Elena’s cheek. She’s already crying and the tribute hasn’t even started.

“Hi,” he whispers to you, looking like the fresh-faced 22-year-old man you fell in love with.

“Hi,” you whisper back. “Ready?”

The lights in the arena dim and you all look up at the Jumbotron as the tribute video starts to play. The girls bounce around, pointing and gasping when video of Andrei doing The Michigan plays. Rod’s on screen, talking about Andrei’s career. Pyotr speaks, grinning when he recounts the early years that Andrei served as his translator.

Elena and Igor get video spots, talking about Andrei’s love of the game even as a child. When Geno’s on screen, Andrei smiles widely and shakes his head, brushing his cheek against the shoulder of his jersey. His eyes look misty in the dim lighting.

Jordan, retired for a few years now, speaks last, “from one Canes Captain to another, we’re so proud of you, Svechy. Here’s to another thousand games.”

You sniffle a little, eyes welling up with emotion. The girls are clinging to Andrei’s hands, dancing in place and Kira is taking in all of the sights. Once the lights go back on, Brady, Sebastian, and Jarvy skate over with bouquets of flowers for you, Elena, and the girls.

“Congratulations,” Brady grins at you, handing over your flowers and Kira’s. “Svechy’s lucky to have you.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” you say with a smile, “again!”

Andrei’s gifted a silver stick - which the girls immediately start to inspect. Brady and Jarvy pull the red curtains off of a framed, team-signed jersey with 1000 instead of 37 on the back and a painting of Andrei’s Stanley Cup winning goal from two years ago.

“Daddy,” Evie tugs on his jersey, whispering, “that’s not the right number on your jersey!”

“That’s because it’s a special jersey for all the games I’ve played,” Andrei explains while ushering them into position as the entire team skates over for a group picture. Evie and Alina ham it up for the picture, but there’s nothing you can do about that except smile.

Andrei kisses you before you leave the ice, “I love you, solnyshka.”

“I love you too, Mister Svechnikov,” you grin against his mouth. “Now go win a game.”

He winks at you before skating back to the bench.

“Now what?” Evie asks as you walk down the tunnel. She’s holding Elena’s hand and swinging it back and forth.

“Now,” you grin at her, giving a little shimmy of excitement that gets Kira giggling, “we party in the suite!”

The girls cheer and rush ahead, staying within eyesight. Igor trails after them and Elena falls into step next to you. Kira leans from your arms and reaches for Elena, so you transfer her over. She snuggles into Elena’s neck.

“This one,” Elena smiles, patting Kira’s back softly, “is just like Andreyusha at the same age. All cuddles and those big eyes, watching everything, planning.”

“They’re all little Drei clones,” you laugh. “We’re lucky to have him. Thank you for raising him into such a wonderful man.”

Elena squeezes your forearm. “Igor and I took Andrei so far, but you and he, you are a wonderful team, wonderful parents. We are so proud to have you as our daughter.”

You wipe at your eyes and laugh wetly, “too bad PNC doesn’t run on tears. We could’ve had this place powered up for a year.”

The girls absolutely thrive in the suite, dancing to the music and eating as many snacks as they can get their little hands on. At one point, you’re on the Jumbotron for the Kiss Cam and the girls scream with delight when they each plant a kiss on your cheeks. It’s one of the more fun games you can remember, mostly because the girls are engaged and excited, and Andrei is clearly having the time of his life on the ice.

When he scores, he points up at your suite and you blow him a kiss that he probably can’t even see, remembering the first time he scored after you had started dating, when you were sitting right behind the Canes bench and he had pointed right at you, grinning with the dimple.

If you could tell that girl that one day she’d be here, ten years later, living her dream life and watching that same twenty-two year old with his little hair wings and dimple celebrate his one thousandth game, you don’t think she’d believe you.

[squirting-sub]

The reward

We got a new flogger (pictured below) made from very hard rubber and were both eager to test it after getting back from meeting with friends.

In the living room, she pulls me close and kisses me, only stopping to take my clothes off. As we make out, she walks me backward until my back is against the wall. We continue making out when suddenly she turns me around and pushes me against the wall. She takes my arms and holds them behind my back, then pulls the knife she was carrying around with her all day out of her pocket and holds it against my throat. "What were you thinking about when you were playing with my knife earlier, hm?". "I was thinking about this, Daddy. About your knife against my throat." "And does that turn you on?" "Yes Daddy, it does.". She moves the knife down my body so I can feel the cold blade against my skin before she walks me to the bedroom.

As she gets the new flogger, I kneel and wait for her. When she gets back and sees me on my knees, she smirks and walks up to me. Then, she pulls my face against her crotch and orders me to take off her pants. Once I do, she pulls my face against her crotch again. "You like that smell?". I tell her I do and kiss her through her briefs. She orders me to take them off as well and to take care of her. One of her hands is in my hair while I carefully lick her pussy. With the other hand, she gently slaps my ass with the new flogger. I jump from the surprise but her grip prevents me from pulling away. I continue eating her as she drags the flogger over my ass and slowly increases the intensity. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad did that hurt?" "Hmm... I'd say a three." "Ok, on the bed with you."

I'm face down ass up as she gets a softer flogger and a paddle to warm up my ass and thighs with. After a few minutes, she goes "I think I've been warming you up too well... I want to leave marks on you." And with that, she gets the new flogger and starts working me with it. Not only does she hit my ass and thighs, she also uses it on my back. It hurts bad. It's a sharp, stinging pain. But I like it. Eventually, she switches to the split leather paddle, the evil wood paddle, and the riding crop. During a little break, she asks me if I'm enjoying myself. "Yes Daddy, but breaks are also good.". I tell her that I also enjoy breaks with a different kind of pain, like wax. "You want some wax?" "Yes, Daddy." "Where?" "On my back, Daddy." She leaves and I stay in my position, patiently waiting for her to get back. "And since when do you call the shots, hm?", she asks before I feel an ice cube on my back. I shiver as she spreads it over my back and up to my neck, then down again. Eventually, she pushes the small remainder of the ice cube inside of me. Then, she continues with the impact play. Out of everything, I enjoy the riding crop the least. The stinging pain it causes is severe. It's concentrated to a small area and for some reason my brain doesn't process it as fast as the others. It takes a few milliseconds after the impact for the pain to set in and it's confusing to me. As the session goes on, I eventually end up laying flat on my stomach with my legs closed. She uses the riding crop last and the frequency of her slaps is fast and they're hard. I scream into the mattress and try to move away. It hurts so bad and I'm whimpering when she finally stops.

She moves next to me and gently strokes my hair, giving me soft kisses on my forehead, cheek, and shoulder. "You did so well, I'm so proud of you. I've never met anyone who can take as much as you do.". Still recovering from the intensity, I smile at her. She puts the split leather paddle, the new rubber flogger, and the riding crop on the mattress in front of my face. "Do you want to earn a reward?". "Yes, Daddy", I nod. "Good. You have to take six slaps with each of these three to get your reward, ok?". Hearing how low she set the number for each, I know she's gonna hit me hard and I'm a little afraid, but I agree nonetheless. She starts with the split leather paddle and as it's the one that hurts me the least, she hits me with full force and counts each one out loud for me. I yelp a few times, but mostly I enjoy those. Next, she uses the new flogger. Four of the hits are on my ass and two end up on my back. All of them make me scream into the mattress again. For the last six, she uses the riding crop, and again, the pain is intense. When she's done, she praises me again. "Ready for your reward?". "Yes, Daddy.", I say, but I'm suddenly feeling cold and shiver. When she asks me why I'm shivering, I tell her and she orders me to turn around. I'm a little weak and my backside hurts, so I struggle to turn and shake my head. She firmly tells me to turn around and when I do, she takes a blanket and lays on top of me, the blanket covering both of us.

She holds me and I hug her, slowly getting warmer. After a few minutes, she asks me if I'm warm again or if I need more time. I tell her I need a little longer and she says to tell her when I'm warm again. While I get warm, she kisses me softly and when I tell her I'm warm again, she pulls the blanket off of us and kisses down my body. She tells me I can cover up again if I start to feel cold. She kisses my chest, sucking on my nipples, getting me to moan. Moving down, she kisses my inner thighs, teasing me, before eventually licking my pussy. Eating me out ever so slowly and gently, she makes me moan and forget about the little cold I'm feeling. Her eating me out doesn't happen often, so I enjoy it immensely. My hand is in her hair and I can feel my orgasm building. When I cum, I moan "Daddy, I'm-", trying to let her know. She keeps sucking my clit, letting me ride out my orgasm but then doesn't stop. Instead, I feel her push her fingers inside me. After a clitoral orgasm penetration feels very intense for me and it doesn't take long for me to cum and squirt. Her face still between my legs, she drinks it and pulls away to fuck me harder. After the first orgasm it doesn't take much for me to cum again. After a few thrusts I'm squirting more, grabbing the sheets as my vision gets foggy from the tears in my eyes. She keeps going, making me cum again and again. I try telling her that I can't cum anymore but the words won't come out between all the moans and every time I manage to get out a word, she drags another orgasm I didn't know I had left out of me. It's like she went feral. She's completely primal and in the zone. She's not paying attention to anything and barely hears me as she fucks me. All I get is a "what??" when I finally manage to get out "Daddy, I-". However, because she makes me cum again I can't finish the sentence and she keeps going. When she finally slows down, I think she's done but just a few seconds later she continues. Pressing on my lower stomach with her free hand, she makes me cum again, squirting all over her hand and arm. After I don't know how many orgasms, I'm spent and just lay there motionless when she finally stops.

She looks at me concerned, then relieved when I move my head to look back at her. Kneeling in front of me, she's panting and shaking. I can see in her face that she's flying and not all there. She's not thinking clearly and looks indecisive on what to do. Usually, she'd get a towel to dry me, but now, after trying to stand and being too shaky for it, she lays next to me. I roll onto my side to lay in her arm and stroke her hair and face as she's panting. Holding each other, we slowly come down from our highs.

[ranchthoughts]

A Very Informal BL Tumblr Census

As all the BL 2023 Wrapped posts were going around in December and January, I was surprised to see how many people said this was their first year in the BL Tumblr sphere or that they stopped lurking for the first time in 2023. To investigate this phenomenon (and my general impression that BL engagement went up during the COVID-19 lockdowns), I created a series of polls in early January to see what I could discover:

When did you start watching Asian BLs? (the first one, focused on post-2017) and When did you start watching Asian BLs? (the follow up, focused on pre-2017)

When did you join BL Tumblr? (i.e., when did you start reblogging/liking/viewing BL content on Tumblr)

When did you stop lurking on BL Tumblr? (i.e., when did you start making your own original posts and/or interacting with other BL Tumblr blogs)

Which show did you start writing meta for? (for those of us who write meta)

A big thank you to everyone who voted!

When did you start watching Asian BLs?

My first poll on this topic was made with the express interest of spotting a pattern in recent BL watchers - anecdotally it felt like a lot of people had just started to join and post on BL Tumblr in 2023 and I wanted to see if that coincided with or followed an uptick in BL watchers (i.e., did people start watching BLs and joining BL Tumblr around the same time, or had people been watching BLs for a while before joining BL Tumblr). Furthermore, I felt like I had heard a lot about a pandemic surge in BL watchers (and BL content), so I wanted to focus specifically on the 2020 to now (2024) period.

Over the time period of 2018-2024, the largest number of new BL watchers came in 2020 with 20.0% (and over half of those respondents started watching in the first half of 2020).

For those curious, the breakdown for new viewers in 2020-2024 in six month intervals is as follows:

The majority of respondents on the first poll said they started watching Asian BLs before 2017, so I made another poll (though I was once again limited by the number of options you can have in one poll) exploring 2007-2017 year by year, and then "2006 and before" as the final poll option.

Note: there were 869 respondents to the first poll, and 73 to the second poll.

Interesting to see the big spike of new BL watchers in 2016 and 2017.

Note: I didn't really have a hard and fast definition of "Asian BL" in mind when I made this poll, though I was thinking more of live-action content vs animated series as that is what I see more often in my corner of Tumblr. It was interesting to see people's responses in the tags of what they considered Asian BL to be (including or excluding Chinese censored shows like The Untamed, including or excluding animes like Yuri on Ice, etc.), but I know the lack of clarity on what exactly *is* a BL for the purposes of this poll made it harder to answer and also introduced a bigger margin of error (someone excluding animated series might have said they started watching BL at a later date than someone including animated series, for example). This polls were always intended for my own curiosity though, so you'll have to excuse the lack of academic rigour.

When did you join BL Tumblr?

In short: the largest number of respondents joined BL Tumblr in 2023 (25.3% of respondents), followed by 2022 (19.2%). Additionally, a significant number of respondents joined in or before 2017 (17.9%) - once again, I was limited by the number of poll options and by my initial focus on recent Tumblr history, and I didn't make a follow up poll for this one.

The number of people joining BL Tumblr year by year has grown fairly steadily since 2018 (roughly 6.6% per year), except for a small drop in 2021. The biggest jump was between 2021 and 2022 (went up 7.8%).

We also saw 0.6% of respondents say they joined in 2024, which is exciting (welcome!).

The "started to watch Asian BL" numbers for 2023 were pretty low compared to other years, unlike the "joined BL Tumblr" numbers for 2023, so seems that there were a significant number of people who had been watching Asian BL for any number of years before joining BL Tumblr. The spike in new watchers in 2020 and in 2022, as well as a decrease in new watchers in 2021, do coincide with increases and decreases in people joining BL Tumblr for the first time though, which is interesting.

Note: I tried my best to make a distinction between "joined BL Tumblr" and "stopped lurking on BL Tumblr," but I know the very concept of a start date for "joining" BL Tumblr is quite nebulous. For example, I myself had seen and sought out Asian BL content on Tumblr before I made a side blog, so when did I really "join"? Furthermore, there might have been people who joined BL Tumblr and subsequently left before this poll came around (not to mention the lack of reach of the poll to begin with - there's many people currently on BL Tumblr who's vote I didn't catch).

When did you stop lurking on BL Tumblr?

In short: 2023 had the highest number of respondents who said they stopped lurking on BL Tumblr (27.5%), followed by 2022 (20.0%). This is a significant increase over all the other time spans investigated (2017 and before, 2018-2019, 2020, and 2021), which boasted an average of 5% of respondents. Once again, this poll was limited by the number of poll options and by my initial focus on recent Tumblr history, and I didn't make a follow up poll covering the time span of 2016 and before in more detail.

The number of people making their own posts and interacting with other users in this corner of Tumblr has also increased over the period of 2019 to 2023. There was steady growth over the period of 2019-2021, before we saw a big jump occurring (like in the previous category) from 2021 to 2022 (went up 13.5%). The jump from 2022 to 2023 was less than the one from 2021 to 2022 but still much larger than those previous years.

There were also 1.4% of respondents who said they stopped lurking in 2024, and 31.5% of respondents who said they were still lurking (hi!).

Interesting to note this in light of other data - while 2023 didn't necessarily have as many people joining BL Tumblr for the first time, it did have a lot of existing BL Tumblr folks coming out of the woodwork to make their own posts for the first time. Furthermore, the poll results for 2021 saw a small dip in people watching BL for the first time and in people joining BL Tumblr for the first time, but more or less continued the existing trajectory for "people who stopped lurking on BL Tumblr".

What show did you start writing meta for?

For this poll, I picked some shows I had heard people say was their first foray into meta, as well as other shows that seemed to have a lot of meta about them.

No one on the initial poll said Our Skyy 2 was their first foray into meta, and some of the other shows people mentioned in the tags were Word of Honour, I Promised You the Moon, Manner of Death, and Chains of Heart. Also, shout out to those who answered "I don't remember".

Now of course the release date of these shows does not necessarily correspond with the time period these metas were written in - Bad Buddy, for example, continues to have new meta written about it all the time even though it aired 2021-2022. However, it is interesting to note the strong showing of shows that aired in 2023 on this list. Part of this was my own selection of choices, obviously, but still, 23.4% of respondents said their first meta was written for a show that aired entirely within 2023 (this doesn't include MSP).

I did a follow-up poll to investigate my hypothesis: When did you write your first BL meta?. There were fewer respondents for this one (53 vs 137 for the poll for "which show"), but it still paints an interesting picture: a whopping 45.2% of respondents said they wrote their first BL meta in 2023. (also 3.8% said they wrote their first meta in 2024!)

As you can see, the graph for "When did you write your first BL meta" follows a similar trajectory to the graphs for "When did you join BL Tumblr" and "When did you stop lurking on BL Tumblr".

Alright, that's it from me! Thanks again for voting on all my polls. Obviously this represents but a small and limited fraction of BL Tumblr experiences, but I hope you found it interesting regardless.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Part 1: Morning

After the best (mostly) sleepless night of his life, Dean wakes up to the start of a very special day.

(Read on AO3)

Dean can't sleep.

He's had sleepless nights before, of course. Hundreds, honestly thousands of them. Nights when his blood screamed with adrenaline left over from a recent fight. Nights when the pain of fresh wounds throbbed with every heartbeat. Nights when his head spun from whiskey, and cigarettes cadged off of friendly strangers. He's lain awake in anger, in despair, in loneliness, in exhaustion so deep it drove away the very cure it craved. He's spent bleak hours watching the numbers change on a cheap motel's cheap clock, too overwhelmed with dread for the coming day to allow himself even the respite of a long blink.

Today, though, for the first time in his harrowed life, he is wide awake with joy.

It's a few ticks past 4 a.m. according to the pretty nice clock on his pretty nice dresser. He is curled on his side in his bed, wrapped in warmth, listening to the pre-dawn birdsong, and he's so full of joy he thinks he might cry with it. He'd turned in shortly after midnight, but sleep so far hasn't come to him. He's just been lying there all night, smiling into the dark like a crazy person.

It's the sweetest vigil he's ever kept.

~~~~~

To his own great surprise, he must actually manage to fall asleep at some point, despite the joy (and the birds), because when the alarm rings at quarter of six, it jolts him out of a gauzy dream. The blankets shift and the form beside him unfurls. Cas gives a low, rumbling groan that Dean can feel in his spine as he's spooned snugly from behind. An arm wraps around his waist, a broad hand flattens on his belly, possessive.

“Too early,” the love of his life grumbles. Dean can't help but grin.

“You're the one who set the alarm, baby,” he chuckles, nudging a gentle elbow back into his bed mate's ribs. “We've got a busy day ahead of us, remember, and you said it was important that we had, and I am quoting you here directly, 'enough time to eat a filling, nutritious breakfast'.”

Cas drops a dry kiss, sleepy and slantwise, onto the side of his neck. “I regret every word,” he rasps.

“Oh really?” Dean says. “Because I also remember you including a slot in the agenda for morning sex. You regret that part too?”

Another kiss, this one firmer and with a hint of teeth. Cas's hand slips down Dean's tummy and insinuates itself under the elastic of his boxers. “On second thought I stand by my earlier statement in its entirety.”

It never takes Dean long to get riled up in the mornings, not when it's Cas doing the riling. Twenty minutes later, they're giggling in the shower, bodies flushed and blushing with post-coital glow. The day already feels golden, and his body feels weightless, like decades of fatigue and wear have fallen away from him. He's starting to contemplate a soap-slicked round two, his dick plumping a little between their bellies, when Cas slaps his ass hard and shoves him out of the spray.

“Go make me pancakes. You promised.”

“Bossy,” Dean says as he reaches for a towel. “You're lucky I love you.”

Cas turns off the water and gives him a gummy grin. “Yes, I am. I want mine with chocolate chips, thanks.”

Grumbling good-naturedly about eons-old entities with palates like a toddler's, Dean pulls on a clean pair of boxers and heads to the kitchen.

~~~~~

“Are you sure we have everything we need?” Cas asks him again. It's ten or fifteen to 9:00, and they need to get on the road soon if they want to be on time. On cue, the last-minute jitters have shown up. Cas is standing in the middle of the kitchen, wringing his hands together and looking around like he's never seen the place before in his long, long life. “I just feel like we're forgetting something,” he says plaintively.

Dean slots the last of the breakfast dishes in the drainer and turns to wrap him up in a hug. He kisses the spot on his beloved's forehead where his eyebrows are drawn up with worry.

“We're good, babe,” he soothes. “I checked and triple-checked. The car's packed, the calls have been made, the paperwork is all filed, I even took the trash out already.”

He can feel Cas's body relax in his arms as he runs down the list. Once the worst of the tension has dissipated, he pulls away (because they really are on a schedule here) and pecks out one more quick forehead kiss. “Today is gonna go off without a hitch,” he promises.

Cas smirks, puts a little tease in his voice. “Not even one hitch?” he asks.

Dean laughs. He has to kiss him for real then. They let it go on a bit too long, but, well, fuck it. It's their day. “C'mon, sweetheart,” he says, grabbing his fiance's hand and tugging him towards the garage. “Let's go get married.”

Continues here

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Just a quick ask-

If the Red Force in the JT AU ever decides to lay low on Dawn Island (while looking for the Gomu fruit) with Luffy tagging along because, of course, he is lol, how does the whole mountain bandit debacle go down? Number one, Shanks is well-known at this point; years go by, and all, but still, his face was plastered into every single person's face at least once for the last six years. He's probably almost Emperor level at this point, and the pirate/marine world still says his name with awe, sympathy, and fear.

So, are they undercover? Shanks and crew dress down, hide the red hair and straw hat, row to shore just far enough out so the inhabitants can't see his ship properly? Also, I don't know if this version of Shanks would just shrug his shoulders and take the bandits' taunts. I mean, he could; it could be a "I've eaten scarier things for lunch, and this is barely a fly of an inconvenience." Or maybe it's because they're undercover he can't do anything? That would absolutely grind his patients and when he can finally just stab the guy na break his face in it’s gonna be so cathartic. Is this why he won’t loose his arm this way here but later? Because he just beats the bandit into an inch of his life before he can capture Luffy?

Also is Mihawk here? Just hanging around or is he off doing secret war lord stuff.

Also, is this how Garp finds out about Luffy? Or I’m completely off base with all of this but hypothetically if this all happened what the out come?

Anyways, this AU has brought me so much joy through such a hard semester and general few months. It really made my year; thank you.

Ohhh we're diving into the good parts here. Yessssss. To start, yeah, Shanks' face has been cemented into the public collective, and he's peaking. Already wildly powerful, but still a ways off from emperor status. At this point in the timeline he's gone into a period of 'calm', he's overcome the initial hurdles he faced after Loguetown, and is now taking a more protracted approach to climbing the ladder, i.e, stuff like the Gomu fruit. There's only so much that brute force and violence can bring at any given time, and he's instilled enough awe, sympathy, and fear in people that he can afford to dip down a bit. All that is to say that, yes, AU Shanks does in fact lay low at Dawn island for a year like in canon. Which brings us to the actual laying low part. Luffy is at the ripe age of six now, is fully glued to Shanks, and Shanks has free time on his hands. So he decides he wants to begin training Luffy in the ways of pirating, but he also does not want anything to threaten his well-being in any way, shape, or form. The compromise is to take Luffy along with him on this clandestine mission for the Gomu Gomu. (that Dragon agreed to let Luffy go was due greatly to Luffy's incessant whining getting in the way of him writing his political treatises) They do have to go undercover, or at least proceed very cautiously and secretively. (this is the part were Shanks dyes his hair) What helps them is that the inhabitants of Dawn Island, minus the nobles, are sympathetic towards pirates and their cause against the WG, and actively work to conceal Shanks' presence on the island/his ship. And Shanks has visited the island briefly once before, when Luffy was born on it. He's known to the inhabitants. Shanks would disregard the bandits in much the same way he does in canon, and never engages with them for the sake of the mission, up until the point when they try to lay a hand on Luffy, and that in particular does grind on him, because of Luffy having to witness everything and not understanding why Shanks doesn't fight back, they way Shanks has been teaching him to. So there's some pent-up unconscious rage at play when he finally lets loose on the bandits. The bandits come after Luffy because Shanks has been found out and the bandits were sent to retrieve Luffy, and while Shanks kills the others, one still does take Luffy. But the chase after him goes on for days instead of Luffy being found at once, so technically Shanks loses his arm much later than he does in canon. Garp already knows about Luffy at this point, but he's never had any concrete leads/opportunities to make a grab at him. When he finds out Shanks is on the island with Luffy, he decides to make a move and kidnap Luffy and stow him away with Dadan, where unbeknownst to anyone else, Garp is also hiding Ace with. Which leads into a whole other mess for a later date. Mihawk is in the middle of the formation of the Warlords, but he visits Shanks regularly on the island, which makes this period one of their hardest so far, as they have to be separated. Their individual tasks distract them, though, Shanks has a handful dealing with Luffy and searching for the Gomu Gomu, and Mihawk likewise has a handful with the new Warlords, so they stay busy enough to withstand the other's absence. Right back at you! I'm so glad you like it so much! It's really making my year too, it's so much fun!

[parsleysagerosemarytimemachine]

Citizen Sleeper

What if Disco Elysium, but in space, and you're an escaped robot instead of a cop?

I just got finished binging through Citizen Sleeper again to play the free DLC stories, and wanted to recommend it here because I think it deserves more love. It's a narrative video game that I think would really appeal to a lot of you - Disco Elysium is a good touchstone, I think, in that it's very much about game mechanical interactions revealing the story, being a stranger in a fascinating and complicated place, questions of identity and belonging, and different forms of struggling communities trying to exist together.

More ramblings about why you should play this below

So first off, it's relatively short - six to eight hours, so it's easy to get the whole story. Mechanically, you're getting a number of dice each 'day' to put into activities, and getting a bit of story back with the results. One of the major themes of the narrative is chronic illness/disability; your robot body is slowly (intentionally) falling apart, and so not only do you have to get money to eat each day, but you have to constantly source the medicine you need to keep yourself together - if you don't, your condition degrades and you have fewer and fewer dice to work with. But this also eats into the time you have for understanding the space station you're on, and making the connections with other people that will get you better opportunities and support when you have a day where all your dice are low and nothing is going to go right. It's a frustrating spiral that will feel very realistic to anyone who's trying to live with a chronic condition. (Although, because it's a game, there's some good hidden tricks it uses to make it feel frustrating without actually locking you out of progress.)

The other characters that you meet in the world are good; there are some longer storylines where you get to know them over the course of events, but also some of my favorites are the ones you see only briefly, but repeatedly - the mushroom seller that kept me fed, the barkeep at the place that I could reliably pick up tips, the stray cat outside the apartment you gradually put together for yourself... you don't have a constant companion, and the game doesn't provide romantic opportunities (because you're a robot? because you're a stranger passing through? because there's only so much writing they could put in?) but there's still some good connections to be made, queer and disabled bodies are everywhere, and if I had one regret for the game, it's that there weren't more ways to spend time with people once their arc of the story had 'closed' but the game was moving on.

And then there's the story itself, about an exploited and abandoned space station, and the ways people try to survive - by exploiting others in turn, by trying to protect themselves and what they have, by escaping to new communities, or just trying to get through the day. It is very much a story that believes the only way we'll make it is by helping each other, but also it's realistic about the obstacles in the way of that. It's very good, and I love the way all the choices you have to make are reflected back by the characters around you.

Anyway yeah, go play Citizen Sleeper - there's a set of free story expansions that came out too, so if you went through when it originally came out, there's a bunch of new fun stuff for you to look for as well! (I do wish some of the systems made more of a reappearance, but also, game design is hard. :)

[black-arcana]

Ex-DELAIN Singer CHARLOTTE WESSELS Explores 'Heavier Sound' On Upcoming Solo Album

Charismatic Dutch singer/songwriter Charlotte Wessels is set to release her new studio album on September 20, 2024 via Napalm Records. The LP's first single, "The Exorcism", will arrive on May 16, 2024.

Wessels's album promises a cohesive exploration of fear and liberation, as well as spellbinding melancholia and dark, catchy elements meeting progressive and heavier soundscapes. Charlotte and her band will bring this story to the stage on October 4, 2024 at Utrecht's TivoliVredenburg.

The former DELAIN vocalist's earlier solo endeavors, "Tales From Six Feet Under" (2021) and "Tales From Six Feet Under Vol II" (2022) already gained Wessels a remarkable number of devotees, but for the upcoming release, Wessels is raising the bar significantly. While still writing and producing the songs in her Six Feet Under basement home studio and sharing their first incarnations with her patrons, now she's taking the songs to the next level with a band of her fellow ex-DELAIN cohorts Timo Somers (guitars, additional arrangements),Otto Schimmelpenninck Van Der Oije (bass) and Joey Marin De Boer (drums) as well as Sophia Vernikov (piano/hammond),contributing to the new, heavier sound. The album also features arrangements by Vikram Shankar (SILENT SKIES, PAIN OF SALVATION),cello by Elianne Anemaat, mixing by Guido Aalbers (MUSE, COLDPLAY, THE GATHERING) and mastering by Andy VanDette (PORCUPINE TREE, VOLA, DREAM THEATER).

Wessels states: "This album is significant, for on the one hand, telling such a deeply personal journey — through its unintended theme of fear and obsessive thoughts — and at the same time, representing the joy of finding the song's true forms with everyone involved in the making of this record. There were moments in the studio with the band that truly reminded me of why I love making music in the first place, and I don't think I've ever been as excited about music going out into the world. This is the album I want to re-introduce myself with, and I'm so glad to do it with this amazing team."

In a 2022 interview with Spain's The Metal Circus TV, Wessels was asked how she feels about the fact that DELAIN made a comeback with a new lineup. A short time earlier, DELAIN released a single, "The Quest And The Curse", featuring keyboardist, founder and main songwriter Martijn Westerholt alongside new singer Diana Leah, original guitarist Ronald Landa and original drummer Sander Zoer, plus bassist Ludovico Cioffi. Charlotte said: "I'm trying not to engage with it too much, honestly. I've seen positive responses about it, which I think is good. But I do try to keep some distance and just focus on what I'm doing rather than checking that out, because I still don't feel like that will make me happier per se."

In February 2021, Westerholt announced the dissolution of DELAIN's previous lineup. At the time, he explained: "For the last year or so, the collaboration within the band ceased to work as well as it once had. Some of us were no longer happy with the current roles in the band. We all tried very hard to find a solution for over a year, but sadly we were unable to find one. As a result, we will all be going our own ways and pursuing our own endeavors.

"I am very sad our cooperation has come to end, but at the same time I am very grateful for all the years we were able to work together. Together we toured the world, shared highs and lows, and met with many successes as well as times that pushed us to learn and grow. We all enjoyed meeting our fans and making new friends all over the globe."

At the time, Wessels said about her departure: "I know that you might have questions about the 'why' in all of this. I fully understand and respect that. Simply put, it is the sad conclusion of more than a year of trying to find solutions to built-up grievances. Part of me feels like I'm letting all of you down, I'd like you to know that this decision was not taken lightly and I apologize to those of you who had high hopes of seeing all of us together live on stage again after lockdown. Until recently, I thought this might still be in the cards for us as well."

The new DELAIN lineup made its official live debut in August 2022 at the Riverside festival in Aarburg, Switzerland.

Photo credit: Tim Tronckoe