#new drawing coming today to celebrate

[sierradee]

eeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEE

(Breath)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[the-musical-cc]

Your lips are warm, my head is light Were we alive before tonight...?

[bmpmp3]

holy FUCK IA's voisona 2.0 is OUT

[reverie-starlight]

{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

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

ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

[hoshinasblade]

second best |1| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

DISCLAIMER: this fic has a detail that hasn't been mentioned in the anime yet. it isn't a big give-away but if you are sensitive about that kind of thing, please do not proceed. pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 3K trigger warnings: author's note: this fic has two parts - part 2 will be posted a week from today :) likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated but please do not repost or steal my writings. this is quite long, but i gotta make you guys work for it. i have also set up a taglist for the second part and the other fics or drabbles, please sign up if you wanna be tagged! as always, feel free to let me know what you think or give me a prompt by sending me an ask here!

hoshina soshiro can claim with extreme conviction that he rarely regrets the decisions he has made so far in his life.

from the time he has set his sights on taking the aptitude exam necessary to be recruited in the anti-kaiju defense force, to following captain ashiro mina to support her as the vice-captain of the third division, to religiously adhering to his daily routine of working out even during his off days so he can stay in peak condition - everything he's done is driven by soshiro's lone motivation: to rise and come on top.  

unfortunately, as he sees you walking in the hallway of the training building with his brother, soshiro realises that this is one of those rare occurrences where he hopes he gets a do-over.

it was barely 6 in the afternoon so there was still light from outside; the rays of the setting sun penetrating the transparent windowpanes cast an orange glow to the furniture in soshiro's office. it made him remember how he used to always be assigned as the student to clean the classroom back in junior high school: he would sweep first then rearrange the chairs before closing the windows and drawing down the curtains. he would rush up to the rooftop, in time to watch the sun dip below the horizon. he would stay for a few precious minutes, dreaming of a chance to get out of their town. he was fifteen then.

soshiro shook his head a bit. he decided that today - of all days - will not be when he will have a trip down memory lane. yes, despite the number of times he would get reminded of his past today, he refuses to get sidetracked.

the floor is eerily silent, save for the momentary opening and closing of doors; soshiro is aware that almost everyone has left, flocking to the local izakaya not too far from the base to celebrate. he had half the mind to prompt himself to hurry up in order to make it to the get-together on time. the long and gruelling application process took three months before the vetting could begin, but finally, the third division of japan anti-kaiju defense force honoured its new officers that morning. as the nominated head of the selection committee, he oversaw the entire thing, and at the end, he could not help but to feel confident that their force would become stronger from here - this year their roster of applicants boasts high-profile names like that of the very daughter of jakdf's director general and the young master of the prestigious izumo family.

okonogi, sitting in front of him at his office, was sorting the personal forms of the recruits, a big stapler in her right hand. "i can take care of this, vice-captain", she said to him, "they cannot miss you there."

soshiro smupled to his swivel chair, obviously fatigued by the task he and okonogi had been trying to finish for half an hour already. fighting and defeating kaiju is the main part of the job, but handling the paperwork proves to be as challenging. "right, make sure the headquarters get this by the morning along with the report of all their numbers -" the sound of footsteps nearby interrupted soshiro's train of thought.

there were three loud knocks and the door opened, a man with the same eyes as soshiro peeping inside. even okonogi glanced over her shoulder to identify who the intruder is. soshiro stood up.

"just wanted ta drop by before i head back ta himeji", hoshina soichiro's undeniable accent dripped. spotting the huge pile of forms littering the desk, he commented, "seems like ya are a little preoccupied though."

"hoshina fuku taichou, good evening." your voice was firm yet jovial as you greeted him, the kansai inflection rolling off your tongue. you appeared beside soshiro's brother, still wearing the same standard-issue uniform you wore during the event several hours ago when you were sworn in as a new defense force officer. the outfit is snug on you - soshiro had noticed at the ceremony earlier, but up close the top looked almost skintight, the skirt coming up a little above your knees. soshiro can be a high-ranking official within the force, but he is also a man. if only briefly, he stared. "aren't ya going ta the party?"

taken aback that you would drop by his office, it was out of his mouth too fast he couldn't stop it - "how about ya? what are you still doing here with him?" soshiro responded pointedly at you, throwing you the same query but not answering what you asked him. it was too late to take it back; he sounded like he was interrogating you about your presence with the captain of the sixth division. soichiro winced; soshiro pretended not to see. "i- i was just thinking ya went with the officers on the way there", he added, calmer this time.

"oh, i was just catching up with hoshina-kun", you replied without missing a beat. soshiro doesn't know if the accidental force in his question just seconds prior did not intimidate you at all or you simply ignored his tone. "i mean with soichiro-kun. considering ya are hoshina too", you chuckled. soshiro stole a glance at the man at your side while maintaining an empty expression. he found his brother smirking at him; soshiro willed himself not to picture soichiro as an ugly kaiju with a butt for a face.

okonogi who is now attentively eavesdropping on your conversation caught your attention. "pardon for the bother, hoshina-san. we'll be off now."

for an instant, it looked like you were waiting for soshiro to say something in response. to say what, he doesn't know. the eye contact between you and him held up for a moment but broke as quick as it began. tension prickled in the air briefly then ebbed as you turned away from soshiro. "i'll see ya at the party, vice-captain", you gave him a bow before exiting the room. soshiro wanted to stop you; he didn't.

soichiro sighed. "it was nice seeing ya, 'lil bro", he addressed soshiro, his hand patting the latter's shoulder once, twice. "i have paperwork ta worry about too so as much as i'd like to, i won't be able ta attend your division's party. just in case ya want ta know." soshiro didn't look like he had a crumb of interest to know about his brother's occupational responsibilities; he shrugged soichiro's hand off.

soshiro saw you standing outside, leaning on the wall, when he ushered his brother out. "i'll be driving her to the izakaya though", soichiro informed him. "ya should visit our folks when ya have the time. ya should come home sometimes", soichiro continued, a hint of concern evident in his voice. when soshiro did not respond, surprisingly the older hoshina did not look a tiny bit disappointed. instead, soichiro put on a charming smile and waved at okonogi. "okonogi-chan, see ya around!" he tossed a playful wink at her.

soshiro merely watched as you and soichiro walked together, your pace matching his. a few meters away, he saw you listening intently to something soichiro was saying - he is too close - and although he is not within earshot to hear what is being said anymore, he knows it is another one of his brother's bad jokes. it looks like you were trying to suppress it, but a smile was about to dawn on your lips. soshiro felt sick to his stomach all of a sudden.

the party was already in full swing when soshiro arrived - everyone is hungrily feasting on the expensive wagyu beef, drinks flowing endlessly from the bar. everyone is enjoying themselves; even captain ashiro mina can be seen having small talk with the newly sworn-in officers who were eagerly taking notes from her.

you had easily made friends with the other rookies who are now sitting next to you; it was thanks to your group that this event was planned - after enduring long sessions of strenuous physical training every day of every week, you all deserved a night of everyone just gathering to have a good time. soshiro seems to be exempt from the festive atmosphere though.

he picked the seat next to his captain, who greeted him with a curt nod. he proceeded to grab the mug of beer served to him; the first sip registered a sharp bitterness through his mouth but soshiro relished on the flavor as it overtook his senses.

"everything alright?" captain ashiro from his side asked without lifting her gaze from her own drink. "you are being -" she paused, carefully searching to find the right words, “uncharacteristically quiet.”

soshiro picked the glass of beer again, and when he was about to put the lid on his lips, he could sense someone’s intense stare locked on him. years of being the vice-captain gifted him with equal parts instinct and paranoia so he could not help but scan the room, only to find you, sitting across the room, watching him with a curious expression.

a rowdy group of rookies surrounds you; they are high-fiving each other, laughing at their silly pranks, not minding that all of you are squeezed together at a crowded circle. soft music in the background swelled as everyone cheered and clinked glasses.

soshiro's eyes remained fixed on yours, lasting for what he felt like forever. the buzz of chatter dulled to a distant hum, fading into an almost white noise. his heart raced as he felt his breath catch and his mouth go dry. the corner of your lips curved into a smile and maybe it is the alcohol in his system, but he is certain his cheeks are flushed now.

"huh", captain ashiro lowly exclaimed. soshiro quickly snapped a glance at her. "you talked to her yet?" she asked him. ah, she caught his little moment with you.

soshiro was on the verge of playing it cool and putting on an act; he was about to outright lie to his captain by saying "talk to who?" as if he had no idea what she was referring to. he settled with silence. he was grateful his non-response only earned him a sigh from the captain who did not press the topic any further.

 "to you newbies, congratulations!" captain ashiro raised her glass, still half-filled with alcohol. her voice rang out over the place, everyone's conversations immediately falling quiet. "may the third division always be victorious in our battles to come", she recapped her speech.

the party showed no signs of slowing down. hibino kafka, a recruit in his thirties has been the centre of intrigue that has spanned for weeks now. hibino ossan - as what the others nicknamed him - had revealed in a bathroom conversation with other male rookies that he grew up with captain ashiro. ashiro mina likes dried squid; ashiro mina used to raise pets in grade school - everyone consumed any and every tidbit of trivia hibino disclosed about the usually stoic and serious third division commander. soshiro was among those invested in the rumor and you knew why. for a while, you also wondered how he would react once the rest of the troops learned about your own past with their vice-captain. would he deny it? or would he brush off any potential gossip that may arise from the revelation? if everyone discovered your shared history with hoshina soshiro, would it make him want to reconnect with you?

“you lot will start duty monday next week, but tomorrow will just be another workday for vice-captain hoshina and i”, captain ashiro said, having stood up from her seat, preparing to take off. “no, you can stay”, she said to some of the newbies who have started to get up too.

“nah, captain, why don’t we bring them along to help us file all the tedious paperwork?”, soshiro interjected in his familiar upbeat tone. the crew bursted into snickers; captain ashiro gave soshiro a perplexed look, obviously puzzled about the sudden shift in his mood. testing her theory, she looked at your direction.

captain ashiro couldn't make out why, but you were giggling at whatever your seatmate had said, elegant hand covering your mouth, eyes crinkled. she understood soshiro then - she was not foreign to feeling uneasy inside when she sees someone so physically near someone she cares about after all. "let's go, hoshina", she tucked her pity for the vice-captain away.

"do you guys think they are dating?" a particularly tactless rookie sitting at your table had asked immediately after captain ashiro and hoshina were out the sliding doors.

"i bet they're not", you blurted out a little too soon, a little too sure. you did not mind clipping your accent, your kansai-ben thick and heavy. your fellow officers looked at you, expecting an explanation for your outburst. "i mean -" you stuttered, "that would be awkward, i guess."

"you know to think of it, you're from himeji too, right?" a few more recruits have started to listen in on the exchange. these people can smell the truth off me, you thought. you wanted to smack yourself in the face.

"we went ta the same high school together, that's all", you admitted, feeling backed in a corner. tomorrow when you get questioned for this imprudent behavior, you can probably blame it all on the alcohol. "and grade school", you continued, loose-lipped now.

you still liked wearing pink bows in your hair when you met him. an only child of kind parents, you never experienced having to ask for something you like; you were doted on and spoiled so you were reasonably upset when a young hoshina soshiro did not give you the time of his day. your family has just moved to hyogo shortly before that, and you were anxious to make friends; since your early age, you had made it your mission to make soshiro acknowledge you.

"you dun wanna play with me, because ya are stupid", you told soshiro-kun once. "oka-san said all boys are stupid", you had the nerve to elaborate after he pouted at you, his unkempt bangs sticking on his sweaty forehead, his clothes dirty from training all day.

"yer pretty", he responded and you felt the blush crept up on your cheeks. "pretty annoying."

"come on, spill some tea!" someone's palm connected with the table, jolting you out of your trance. "we have another hibino-senpai situation on our hands!" they declared, grabbing you by the arm and shaking you a bit. if it was meant to encourage you to tell more childhood tales between you and the vice-captain, it worked really, really well.

"he's always had that haircut even as a kid", you said, misinterpreting the kind of story your companions wanted you to tell, judging by their disappointed looks. “i- i don’t know what else to tell you guys”, you held up your hand in surrender.

“do you have a crush on him?” you choked on your drink, caught off guard.

vexed at his absent-mindedness, soshiro was walking back to the izakaya place alone when he heard the commotion. he is going straight to bed once he gets back to the base, but he would have to retrieve his uniform jacket first from his seat earlier.

“you totally do, don’t you!” it stopped sounding like a question and more of an accusation you could not deny. “you like hoshina-san!”

“i -i do, yes... but what of it, huh?" he couldn’t see you but he would recognize the soft timbre of your voice anywhere. soshiro felt like a victorian gentleman getting a glimpse of a woman’s ankle for the first time listening in on the uproar of cheers after your confession.

“the three of us attended the same high school, soichiro-kun was a grade ahead”, you said. soshiro froze. you are talking about his brother. “he has always been good at everything, t'was hard not ta like him.”

soshiro closed his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing. he always had his suspicions - for the ceremony earlier his brother even took a day off his busy schedule as the commander of the sixth division to attend as a guest. he should have known.

last year, soshiro’s squad fought a lizard-type kaiju with a fortitude of above 8. like the reptile, a cut made on any of its limbs was useless due to advanced regeneration. a fractured rib, extremely bruised arms, and a dislocated shoulder were what it costed soshiro to win against the monster. his bitterness threatening to consume him, he cannot believe that you confirming his worst fears would hurt more than that fatal experience.

of course, he said to himself. it’s not like he can fault you for liking soichiro - everyone did. as the firstborn son, their father always had favored him. soichiro has been the more skilled swordsman between them; he was the golden child, charismatic and talented with an effortless charm - like moths to a flame he would attract people, and even in his silence he would overshadow soshiro.

soshiro didn’t stand a chance against his own flesh and blood.

he was a teenager when he dreamed of running away from the constant but inevitable competition he had with his brother. scouted for the third division, he relished on the freedom. but how do you escape the reality of the one you love loving the one person you could never measure up to?

[pucksandpower]

Roll the Dice

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Charles throw your own private celebration after one of the best races of the season

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd still rings in your ears as you make your way through the paddock to find Charles. Your heart is bursting with pride after watching him fight his way to a hard-earned P2.

Las Vegas may be a new circuit but Charles drove it like he had been racing here for years. He made the Ferrari dance in ways you didn’t think were possible, squeezing every last hundredth out of each corner.

You spot him up ahead, finally free from the mob of reporters and post-race press conference. He’s leaning against the wall near the media pen in a rare moment of solitude, eyes closed and head tilted back, no doubt mentally replaying each complex sequence of braking points and apexes.

You take a moment just to look at him — the way his damp curls cling to his forehead, the zipper of his race suit undone and its sleeves tied at his waist to reveal soaked fireproofs that cling to every contour of his chest. He’s breathing heavily, a post-race flush still clinging to his cheeks.

He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

As you draw nearer, his eyes blink open and immediately lock with yours. Relief, affection, and something more primal flash through them as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Y/N!” He shouts, hurrying over to sweep you up in a massive hug.

You squeeze him tight, not caring at all that he’s drenched in sweat and sticky with champagne. “I’m so proud of you!” You beam.

He sets you down, his hands lingering on your waist. “I couldn’t have done it without my good luck charm.”

You playfully smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, this was all you! I can’t believe the drive you put on out there. You were incredible!”

Charles glances down shyly. “Thank you, mon cœur. It was a good race tonight.”

“A great race,” you correct him, “You drove incredibly. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, watching you battle with Max and Checo like that. It was the best thing I’ve seen all season.”

Taking his hand, you lead him away from the crowds. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. I think it’s time we celebrate!”

A flight in the early afternoon means you both decide to forego the wild Vegas parties and instead make your way straight to the hotel. Once you’re in your suite, Charles heads for the shower while you pour champagne. When he emerges in a billow of steam, you hand him a glass.

“To my champion!” You declare, clinking your glass against his.

Charles smiles graciously but you catch a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “I’m hardly a champion finishing P2.”

You fix him with a serious look. “That was the drive of a champion tonight. You left you heart on the track out there. If it wasn’t for that safety car, you would’ve won. I would have bet my life on it.”

He looks thoughtful as he takes a sip. “You really think so?”

“I know so! The way you managed to regain the lead from Max? And then from Checo? The move you pulled in the last lap to take P2? Incredible. My only regret is that you don’t have a car that would give you an opportunity to compete like this all season.”

Charles sighs. “The team is doing their best with what we’ve got.”

You set your glass down and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I know and you’re so patient with them. But a driver like you? You deserve to be fighting at the front in every single race.”

Looking into your eyes, Charles brushes a strand of hair from your face. “We’ll get there, I know it. This result today, it shows progress.”

“You’re right. It does,” you smile up at him. “And when you do get a car worthy of you, the rest of the grid better watch out. Because you are going to do great things, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gazes at you tenderly before pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips move together unhurriedly, his hands trailing down your back.

When you finally break apart, breaths mingling, he gives you a mischievous look.

“You know, I never did properly thank you for being my good luck charm today.” His fingers toy with the hem of your shirt.

You bite your lip coyly. “I think the good luck charm wants to properly congratulate her driver on the podium. I want to make you feel good. You more than earned it.”

Charles grins and tugs your shirt up over your head. His lips find your neck as he backs you towards the bed, hands roaming your newly exposed skin.

You fumble with the ties on his sweatpants, shoving them down as the back of your legs hit the plush mattress. He gently lowers you down, hovering over you.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes dark with want.

You pull him down for another heated kiss, reveling in the feel of his solid weight above you. Your hands grasp at his back, nails digging in slightly to leave crescent marks on his skin.

Charles groans into your mouth at the sensation, pressing his hips down firmly against yours. You can feel his arousal even through the thin fabric still separating you.

Breaking the kiss, you trail your lips along his stubbled jaw to his ear. “I want you so much,” you whisper hotly.

He shudders in response, hands gripping your waist. “Take what you want, mon amour. I’m all yours.”

You slip a hand between your bodies, palming him through his boxers. He hisses in pleasure, bucking into your touch.

“These need to come off. Now,” you demand.

Charles obliges eagerly, stripping the last barrier between you away. You waste no time to wrap your legs around his waist, gasping as he enters you in one smooth motion.

You move together unhurriedly at first, simply reveling in the feeling of being joined so intimately. Charles peppers your face and neck with tender kisses as your hands caress every inch of his back and shoulders you can reach.

As the pleasure builds, your hips pick up speed, chasing release. Charles shifts his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Just like that! Don’t stop!” You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders again.

He increases his pace, pounding into you relentlessly. You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

“Charles, I’m so close ...” you gasp.

“Let go, mon cœur. Come for me,” he growls breathlessly into your ear.

His words send you tumbling over the edge with a wordless cry. Your vision goes white as intense ecstasy washes over you. Distantly you’re aware of Charles following right after, your name a reverent sigh on his lips.

As you float back down, Charles collapses on top of you. You hold him close, heart threatening to burst from the love and pride swelling within you.

Charles presses his lips to your forehead. “Have I mentioned that you’re the best girlfriend ever? I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as wonderful as you. But I’m so glad you’re here with me through all of this. I love you so much.”

You grin and pull him in for a kiss. “You deserve the world, Charles Leclerc. And I plan on spending every day of our lives proving that to you.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

Leap of faith - Lewis Hamilton

It can be read as a separate one-shot. But with the story it just makes it so much better

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: couple who went through a lot finally getting their happily ever after 🥹❤️

wordcount: +2k

a/n: Their story has my whole heart and I thought they deserved this closure❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, the glow of fairy lights casting a warm light across the open Californian sky. Guests were scattered around tables, their faces glowing with joy and a bit of alcohol.

In the midst of it all, the newlyweds stood at the center of attention, surrounded by family and friends who had gathered to witness this moment.

Lewis stood there, his fingers lightly gripping the mic as he looked around the room.

His eyes landed on Y/n, and his usual confidence softened into something more tender. He took a breath, the kind that spoke volumes without saying a word, then began to speak with that familiar, easygoing tone.

"I've been thinking a lot about what I wanted to say today. You all know I’m not really one for speeches—well, at least not ones that don’t involve a podium anyway. But today, standing here, looking at Y/n, I realize that there are some things that need to be said. Things that have been in my heart for a long time, but that maybe I haven’t always found the right words for."

He glanced down at his new wedding band for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before looking back up at her.

"When I first met Y/n, I was... let’s just say I was a little too sure of myself. I thought I knew what I wanted out of life, what it meant to be successful, to be happy. But Y/n... she changed all of that."

He paused, his eyes softening as he took in her face, the way she looked at him with that mix of affection and amusement that only she could pull off.

"I won’t pretend that our journey has been easy. It hasn’t. There have been times when I wondered if we’d ever get here, if we’d ever figure out how to make it work. But through it all, there was this pull—something that kept drawing me back to you. It felt inevitable."

There was a brief silence, the kind that came when words just didn’t seem enough, but he pressed on, his voice a little softer now.

"Over the years, I’ve felt so many things for you, Y/n. Admiration, frustration, pride, fear... love. So much love.

“But more than anything, I’ve felt lucky. Lucky to have met someone who sees me—not the driver, not the celebrity. The real me. And even luckier that, despite everything, you’ve chosen to stand by my side."

He shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as if he was still a bit in awe of it all.

"You’ve taught me that love isn’t about finding someone who’s perfect—God knows neither of us are that. It’s about finding someone who’s willing to grow with you, to fight with you and for you, to laugh with you when things are good and hold you when they’re not.”

“It’s about finding that person who challenges you, who pushes you to be better, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

His voice caught slightly, just for a moment, and he cleared his throat before continuing.

"There were times when the distance, the pressures, the lives we lead seemed like too much. But every time I doubted, you showed up. You were always there, with your strength, your sarcasm, your endless belief in me. And slowly, I started to believe too. Believe that we were worth the fight, worth all the doubts."

He stopped, letting those words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his tone more thoughtful now.

"I’ve thought a lot about what it means to commit to someone, to truly give yourself over to another person. It’s not something I’ve ever taken lightly. But then I remember when you asked me if I'd catch you. And how I just knew, somehow, that I could never let you fall. That I would always be there, arms wide open, ready to catch you."

He paused again, his eyes never leaving hers, and there was a rawness in his voice.

"You’ve been my biggest challenge and my greatest adventure. And through all the ups and downs, all the doubts and fears, one thing has remained constant: my love for you. It’s been tested, pushed to its limits, but it’s also grown stronger because of it. Stronger because of you."

There was a brief silence as he let those words sink in, both for himself and for everyone listening.

"I’ve come to realize that loving you, Y/n, isn’t trying to fit into some perfect mold, some idea of what we’re supposed to be. It’s embracing who we are, flaws and all. You make me want to be a better man, not because you ask me to, but because you deserve nothing less."

He took a deep breath, the emotion in his voice becoming more apparent as he neared the end of his vows.

"I’ve been in some pretty high-pressure situations in my life. But standing here today, committing my life to you, is by far the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled, a little wistful but also full of hope and love.

"You’ve always been the one, Y/n. Even when I didn’t know it, even when I tried to deny it, you were always the one. And, standing here, I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to. Because I’ve found home."

Lewis’s voice dropped to a near whisper, the words meant only for her, even as the room listened intently.

"I’m all in, Y/n. I’ve always been all in, even when I didn’t realize it. And I can’t wait to see where this leap takes us next. Because whatever happens, wherever we go, I know one thing for sure—I’ll always catch you."

He let out a small, almost relieved sigh, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Then, with a soft smile, he added,

"And I promise, for as long as I’m breathing, I’ll never let you fall alone."

As the last word left his lips and he smiled at his wife, Y/n stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly, as if to anchor herself in that moment.

He embraced her, his lips brushing softly against her hair, leaving a tender kiss there as he breathed in her familiar scent for a minute, before she let go and nodded at him.

Y/n took a deep breath as she took the microphone from Lewis, her fingers lightly brushing over his fingers as she gazed at him.

His vows had been everything she expected and more, and now it was her turn.

She could feel the weight of the moment, the anticipation in the air, but as she turned away from him, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—mischief, affection, and a hint of that vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

She glanced at the guests, her smile widening as she began to speak, her tone warm but laced with the familiar sarcasm that everyone knew.

“Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” Y/n’s voice carried through the room, earning a ripple of laughter. She turned her gaze back to Lewis, playfully narrowing her eyes.

 “Leave it to you to set the bar so damn high. Now I’m standing here, realizing that I should’ve probably gone first. But hey, that’s always been our dynamic, right? You go ahead, and I’ll catch up when I’m not that scared anymore.”

The guests chuckled, and Y/n took a moment to collect her thoughts. The teasing edge in her voice softened into something more genuine as she shifted her gaze back to Lewis.

“First off, let’s get this out of the way— you guys have no idea how much I’ve been trying to keep my cool all day.” She winked at the crowd, earning a few more chuckles.

“The fact that I’m standing here, in front of all of you, without a single escape plan in my back pocket is... growth.”

Her gaze shifted to her mother, who was sitting with tears already glistening in her eyes.

“I see you, Mom. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Finally, she’s not running.’ But, you know, there’s a story there.”

Y/n’s voice softened; her smile more tender as she addressed her mother.

“I get it now. All those times you tried to guide me, protect me from the world, from heartbreak—I know you were just trying to give me the best. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn’t listening, or worse, like I didn’t care. I did. I always have. I just... I had to figure it out in my own stubborn way”

She paused, letting her words sink in. Her mother nodded, lips trembling with a smile that spoke volumes more than any words could.

“And Dad,” Y/n continued, her eyes finding her father’s across the room.

“You always knew, didn’t you? You saw something in Lewis long before I did. And me, being me, I just rolled my eyes, thinking you were too eager to hand me off.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“But you were right. As always. And you never pushed, never pressured. You let me come to my own conclusions, and for that, I’m so grateful. You knew I needed time to figure out that Lewis was my away to learn how to fly.”

A wave of emotion caught in her throat, but Y/n swallowed it down, keeping her tone light as she turned to address Lewis’s parents. Her smile softened as she met their eyes.

“And to my future in-laws—Carmen, Anthony and Linda – God, I can’t believe I’m saying that out loud—thank you for raising a man who is patient enough to deal with all of this.”

She gestured to herself with a grin, drawing laughter from the guests.

“I know you probably didn’t sign up for a daughter-in-law who has a habit of running. I know it hasn’t always been easy, watching us go through everything, but I hope you know how much I love him. Thank you for welcoming me, quirks and all, into your family with open arms. I promise to take care of him, to be the partner he deserves.”

She turned then, her gaze locking onto Lewis. The room seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

“And you” she began, her voice softer, more intimate. “Lewis... where do I even start? You’ve been my constant when I was chaos, my anchor when I was drifting.”

Another pause, her voice almost choking as she took one of Lewis’s outstretched hands.

“I begged you to let me go. I was so scared—of us, of what we were becoming, of what I was feeling. I thought if I ran far enough, fast enough, I could escape it.”

She took a breath, her eyes glistening.

“But you—God, you just wouldn’t let me go, even when I didn’t deserve you. You stood there, you saw right through all my bravado, and you told me you weren’t going anywhere. That you’d wait. And you did.”

She said the last part almost to herself, nodding incredulously.

“You waited while I sorted through my mess, while I ran from something I didn’t fully understand.”

A tear slid down her cheek, and she let it fall freely.

“I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time—Feels like I’ve been calling you my partner, my best friend, my everything for so long, but now… Husband. That’s a whole new level. I mean, look at you, sitting there all smug, knowing you got me to sign my life away."

She let out a small laugh, lightening the mood for a moment as everyone else felt the tension ease, only for her expression to turn more reflective again.

"Seriously though … when I first met you, I wasn’t looking for forever. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was looking for tomorrow. I was stuck, scared, trying to navigate my own storm, and you—you were like this ridiculous beacon of light, just… shining. And I couldn’t ignore you, even though I really wanted to."

She paused, smiling as she recalled those early days.

"I kept telling myself, ‘Don’t get involved, don’t fall for the guy with the world at his feet.’ But then you’d do something… something so small, like remembering how I take my coffee or noticing when I was having a bad day without me saying a word. You were patient when I needed time, persistent when I pushed you away, and through all my doubts and fears, you became the person I couldn’t imagine my life without."

Y/n looked down for a moment, taking a breath before continuing.

“You lit something up in me that I didn’t even know was there, something that made me feel like I was enough. Like maybe, just maybe, I could be more than the sum of my fears and insecurities.”

She paused, her eyes softening again as she looked at Lewis.

"We’ve been through it, haven’t we? And I don’t just mean the glamorous stuff. I’m talking about the hard nights, the distance, the moments where I didn’t know if we’d make it through.”

There was a soft murmur among the guests as Y/n’s voice lowered, the raw emotion in her words unmistakable.

“We’re standing here today because you never let go, even when I wasn’t sure I could hold on."

Then the room was silent once again, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

“You’ve taught me that love it’s something you choose, every single day. That it resides in the little things—the way you pull me closer when I need it, the way you let me push you away for a bit when I’m too scared to let you in. It’s about the quiet moments, when you’ve stayed by me even when I didn’t ask, because you knew I needed you. The times when you’ve held me together when I felt like falling apart.”

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly before she regained her composure.

“I know I haven’t always been the easiest person to love. I’ve put up walls, kept you at arm’s length because I was scared of what it might mean to really let you in. But you never gave up on me. You never walked away, even when I gave you every reason to.”

Y/n’s voice trembled, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.

“Falling for you felt like coming home. Like finding the place I was always meant to be, the place where all the chaos was worth it”

She looked back at Lewis, her eyes shining with and her voice thick.

"Lewis, you were my leap of faith. And trust me, I’ve never been a fan of heights. But with you, it’s all about rising. Rising above my fears, my insecurities, all the things that used to hold me back."

She paused, blinking back tears as she smiled at the guests.

“You’ve been my rock, my safe place, the one who’s seen me at my worst and still loved me through it all.”

She wiped her cheek with a shaky laugh.

“There’s something terrifying about that, isn’t there? The idea that someone could know you so completely, so intimately, and still choose to stay. You’ve chosen me, even when I wasn’t sure if I could choose myself.”

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling with emotion as she continued.

“I always think back to that night – you know the one – when I asked you if you’d catch me or if I’d have to learn to fly on my own. You didn’t hesitate. You just opened your arms and let me fall… fall into you.”

Y/n’s breathing trembled again.

“And that’s when I knew. No matter what happened, no matter where life took us, I’d never be alone. Because I had you. I had this incredible man who was willing to catch me, over and over again, no matter how many times I stumbled.”

Y/n’s voice broke slightly as she spoke her next words, her tears flowing freely now.

“I’ve always been scared of letting go, of giving myself over to someone completely. But with you, it doesn’t feel like falling. It feels like flying. Like coming home.”

Y/n took a moment to steady herself before she added, with a smile through her tears.

“Lewis, I’m all in. My husband, my partner, my leap of faith, you’re the one I choose, every day and in every way.”

Y/n wiped at the corner of her eye as she finished, giving Lewis’s hands that extra squeeze.

“So here’s to us, to our forever. I can’t promise I won’t drive you crazy, or that I’ll ever stop being a little bit of a mess, but I can promise to love you fiercely, endlessly, and with everything I have. Thank you for being my anchor, my safe place, and most importantly, for being you.

There was a pause as she took a last breath, her eyes never leaving his, her smile bright on her features.

"Okay, enough with the mushy stuff. Cheers—to love, to learning how to fly, to taking the leap."

______________________________________________________________

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[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Tells All: Becoming Donald Trump, Gaining 15 Pounds and Starring in 2024’s Most Controversial Movie

By Daniel D'Addario

Sebastian Stan Variety Cover Story

It started with the most famous voice on the planet, the one that just won’t shut up.

Sebastian Stan, in real life, sounds very little like Donald Trump, whom he’s playing in the new film “The Apprentice.” Sure, they share a tristate accent — Stan has lived in the city for years and attended Rutgers University before launching his career — but he speaks with none of Trump’s emphasis on his own greatness. Trump dwells, Stan skitters. Trump attempts to draw topics together over lengthy stem-winders (what he recently called “the weave”), while Stan has a certain unwillingness to be pinned down, a desire to keep moving. It takes some coaxing to bring Stan, a man with the upright bearing and square jaw of a matinee idol, to speak about his own process — how hard he worked to conjure a sense Trump, and how he sought to bring out new insights about America’s most scrutinized politician.

“I think he’s a lot smarter than people want to say about him,” Stan says, “because he repeats things consistently, and he’s given you a brand.” Stan would know: He watched videos of Trump on a loop while preparing for “The Apprentice.” In the film, out on Oct. 11, Stan plays Trump as he moves from insecure, aspiring real estate developer to still insecure but established member of the New York celebrity firmament.

We’re sitting over coffee in Manhattan. Stan is dressed down in a black chore coat and black tee, yet he’s anything but a casual conversation partner. He rarely breaks eye contact, doing so only on the occasions when he has something he wants to show me on his iPhone (cracked screen, no case). In this instance, it’s folders of photos and videos labeled “DT” and “DT PHYSICALITY.”

“I had 130 videos on his physicality on my phone,” Stan says. “And 562 videos that I had pulled with pictures from different time periods — from the ’70s all the way to today — so I could pull out his speech patterns and try to improvise like him.” Stan, deep in character, would ad-lib entire scenes at director Ali Abbasi’s urging, drawing on the details he’d learned from watching Trump and reading interviews to understand precisely how to react in each moment.

“Ali could come in on the second take and say, ‘Why don’t you talk a little bit about the taxes and how you don’t want to pay?’ So I had to know what charities they were going to in 1983. Every night I would go home and try not only to prepare for the day that was coming, but also to prepare for where Ali was going to take this.”

Looking at Stan’s phone, among the endless pictures of Trump, I glimpse thumbnails of Stan’s own face perched in a Trumpian pout and videos of the actor’s preparation just aching to be clicked — or to be stored in the Trump Presidential Library when this is all over in a few months, or in 2029, or beyond.

“I started to realize that I needed to start speaking with my lips in a different way,” Stan says. “A lot of that came from the consonants. If I’m talking, I’m moving forward.” On film, Stan shapes his mouth like he can’t wait to get the plosives out, puckering without quite tipping into parody. “The consonants naturally forced your lips forward.”

“If he did 10% more of what he did, it would become ‘Saturday Night Live,’” Abbasi says. “If he did 10% less, then he’s not conjuring that person. But here’s the thing about Sebastian: He’s very inspired by reality, by research. And that’s also the way I work; if you want to go to strange places, you need to get your baseline reality covered very well.”

A little later, Stan passes me the phone again to show me a selfie of him posing shirtless and revealing two sagging pecs and a bit of a gut. He’s pouting into a mirror. If his expression looks exaggerated, consider that he was in Marvel-movie shape before stepping into the role of the former president; the body transformation happened rapidly and jarringly. Trump’s size is a part of the film’s plot — as Trump’s sense of self inflates, so does he. In a rush to meet the shooting deadline for “The Apprentice,” Abbasi asked Stan, “How much weight can you gain?”

“You’d be surprised,” Stan tells me. “You can gain a lot of weight in two months.” (Fifteen pounds, to be exact.)

Now he’s back in fighting form, but the character has stayed with him. After years of playing second-fiddle agents of chaos — goofball husbands to Margot Robbie’s and Lily James’ characters in “I, Tonya” and Hulu’s “Pam & Tommy,” surly frenemy to Chris Evans’ Captain America in the Marvel franchise — Stan plunged into the id of the man whose appetites have reshaped our world. He had to have a polished enough sense of Trump that he could improvise in character, and enough respect for him to play him as a human being, not a monster.

It’s one of two transformations this year for Stan — and one that might give a talented actor that most elusive thing: a brand of his own. He’s long been adjacent enough to star power that he could feel its glow, but he hasn’t been the marquee performer. While his co-stars have found themselves defined by the projects he’s been in — from “Captain America” and “I, Tonya” back to his start on “Gossip Girl” — he’s spent more than a decade in the public eye while evading being defined at all.

This fall promises to be the season that changes all that: Stan is pulling double duty with “The Apprentice” and “A Different Man” (in theaters Sept. 20), in which he plays a man afflicted with a disfiguring tumor disorder who — even when presented with a fantastical treatment that makes him look like, well, Sebastian Stan — can’t be cured of ailments of the soul. For “A Different Man,” Stan won the top acting prize at the Berlin Film Festival; for “The Apprentice,” the sky’s the limit, if it can manage to get seen. (More on that later.)

One reason Stan has largely evaded being defined is that he’s never the same twice, often willing to get loopy or go dark in pursuit of his characters’ truths. That’s all the more true this year: In “The Apprentice,” he’s under the carapace of Trumpiness; in “A Different Man,” his face is hidden behind extensive prosthetics.

“In my book, if you’re the good-looking, sensitive guy 20 movies in a row, that’s not a star for me,” says Abbasi, who compares Stan to Marlon Brando — an actor eager to play against his looks. “You’re just one of the many in the factory of the Ken dolls.”

This fall represents Stan’s chance to break out of the toy store once and for all. His Winter Soldier brought a jolt of evil into Captain America’s world, and his Jeff Gillooly was the devil sitting on Tonya Harding’s shoulder. Now Stan is at the center of the frame, playing one of the most divisive characters imaginable. So he’s showing us where he can go. The spotlight is his, and so is the risk that comes with it.

Why take such a risk?

The script for “The Apprentice,” which Stan first received in 2019, but which took years to come together, made him consider the American dream, the one that Trump achieved and is redefining.

Stan emigrated with his mother, a pianist, from communist Romania as a child. “I was raised always aware of the American dream: America being the land of opportunity, where dreams come true, where you can make something of yourself.” He pushes the wings of his hair back to frame his face, a gold signet ring glinting in the late-summer sunlight, and, briefly, I can hear a hint of Trump’s directness of approach. “You can become whoever you want, if you just have a good idea.” Stan’s good idea has been to play the lead in movies while dodging the formulaic identity of a leading man, and this year will prove just how far he can take it.

“The Apprentice” seemed like it would never come together before suddenly it did. This time last year, Stan was sure it was dead in the water, and he was OK with that. “If this movie is not happening, it’s because it’s not meant to happen,” he recalls thinking. “It will not be because I’m too scared and walk away.”

Called in on short notice and filming from November 2023 to January of this year (ahead of a May premiere in Cannes), Stan lent heft and attitude to a character arc that takes Trump from local real estate developer in the 1970s to national celebrity in the 1980s. He learns the rough-and-tumble game of power from the ruthless and hedonistic political fixer Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong), eventually cutting the closeted Cohn loose as he dies of AIDS and alienating his wife Ivana (Maria Bakalova) in the process. (In a shocking scene, Donald sexually assaults Ivana in their Trump Tower apartment.) For all its edginess, the film is about Trump’s personality — and the way it calcified into a persona — rather than his present-day politics. (Despite its title, it’s set well before the 2004 launch of the reality show that finally made Trump the superstar he longed to be.)

And despite the fact that Trump has kept America rapt since he announced his run for president in 2015, Hollywood has been terrified of “The Apprentice.” The film didn’t sell for months after Cannes, an unusual result for a major English-language competition film, partly because Trump’s legal team sent a cease-and-desist letter attempting to block the film’s release in the U.S. while the fest was still ongoing. When it finally sold, it was to Briarcliff Entertainment, a distributor so small that the production has launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise money so that it will be able to stay in theaters.

Yes, Hollywood may vote blue, but it’s not the same town that released “Fahrenheit 9/11” or even “W.,” let alone a film that depicts the once (and possibly future) president raping his wife. (The filmmakers stand behind that story. “The script is 100% backed by my own interviews and historical research,” says Gabriel Sherman, the screenwriter and a journalist who covers Trump and the American conservative movement. “And it’s important to note that it is not a documentary. It’s a work of fiction that’s inspired by history.”) Entertainment corporations from Netflix to Disney would be severely inconvenienced if the next president came into office with a grudge against them.

“I am quite shocked, to be honest,” Abbasi says. “This is not a political piece. It’s not a hit piece; it’s not a hatchet job; it’s not propaganda. The fact that it’s been so challenging is shocking.” Abbasi, born in Iran, was condemned by his government over his last film, “Holy Spider,” and cannot safely return. He sees a parallel in the response to “The Apprentice.” “OK, that’s Iran — that is unfortunately expected. But I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Everything with this film has been one day at a time,” Stan says. The actor chalks up the film’s divisiveness to a siloed online environment. “There are a lot of people who love reading the [film’s] Wikipedia page and throwing out their opinions,” he says, an edge entering his voice. “But they don’t actually know what they’re talking about. That’s a popular sport now online, apparently.”

Unprompted, Stan brings up the idea that Trump is so widely known that some might think a biographical film about him serves no purpose. “When someone says, ‘Why do we need this movie? We know all this,’ I’ll say, ‘Maybe you do, but you haven’t experienced it. The experience of those two hours is visceral. It’s something you can hopefully feel — if you still have feelings.’”

After graduating from Rutgers in 2005, Stan found his first substantial role on “Gossip Girl,” playing troubled rich kid Carter Baizen. Like teen soaps since time immemorial, “Gossip Girl” was a star-making machine. “It was the first time I was in serious love with somebody,” he says. (He dated the series’ star, Leighton Meester, from 2008 to 2010.) He feels nostalgic for that moment: “Walking around the city, seeing these same buildings and streets — life seemed simpler.”

Stan followed his “Gossip Girl” gig with roles on the 2009 NBC drama “Kings,” playing a devious gay prince in an alternate-reality modern world governed by a monarchy, and the 2012 USA miniseries “Political Animals,” playing a black-sheep prince (and once again a gay man) of a different sort — the son of a philandering former president and an ambitious former first lady.

When I ask him what lane he envisioned himself in as a young actor, he shrugs off the question. “I grew up with a single mom, and I didn’t have a lot of male role models. I was always trying to figure out what I wanted to be. And at some point, I was like, I could just be a bunch of things.”

Which might seem challenging when one is booked to play the same character, Bucky Barnes, in Marvel movie after Marvel movie. Bucky’s adventures have been wide-ranging — he’s been brainwashed and turned evil and then brought back to the home team again, all since his debut in 2011’s “Captain America: The First Avenger.” Next year, he’ll anchor the summer movie “Thunderbolts,” as the leader of a squad of quirky heroes played by, among others, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Florence Pugh. It’s easy to wonder if this has come to feel like a cage of sorts.

Not so, says Stan. His new Marvel film “was kind of like ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ — a guy coming into this group that was chaotic and degenerate, and somehow finding a way to unite them.”

Lately, knives have been out for Marvel movies as some have disappointed at the box office, and “Thunderbolts,” which endured strike delays and last-minute cast changes, has been under scrutiny.

“It’s become really convenient to pick on [Marvel films],” Stan says. “And that’s fine. Everyone’s got an opinion. But they’re a big part of what contributes to this business and allows us to have smaller movies as well. This is an artery traveling through the system of this entire machinery that’s Hollywood. It feeds in so many more ways than people acknowledge.” He adds, “Sometimes I get protective of it because the intention is really fucking good. It’s just fucking hard to make a good movie over and over again.”

Which may account for an eagerness to try something new. “In the last couple of years,” he says, “I’ve gotten much more aggressive about pursuing things that I want, and I’m constantly looking for different ways of challenging myself.”

The challenge continued throughout the shoot of “The Apprentice,” as Stan pushed the material. “One of the most creatively rewarding parts of the process was how open Sebastian was to giving notes on the script but also wanting to go beyond the script,” says Sherman, the screenwriter. “If he was interested in a certain aspect of a scene, he was like, Can you find me a quote?” he recalls.

Building a dynamic through improvised scenes, Stan and Strong stayed in character throughout the “Apprentice” shoot. “I was doing an Ibsen play on Broadway,” says Strong, who won a Tony in June for his performance in “An Enemy of the People,” “and he came backstage afterwards. And it was like — I’d never really met Sebastian, and I don’t think he’d ever met me. So it was nice to meet him.”

Before the pair began acting together, they didn’t rehearse much — “I’m not a fan of rehearsals,” Strong says. “I think actors are best left in their cocoon, doing their work, and then trusted to walk on set and be ready.” The two didn’t touch the script together until cameras went up — though they spent a preproduction day, Strong says, playing games in character as Donald and Roy.

After filming, both have kept memories of the hold their characters had on them. They shared a flight back from Telluride — a famously bumpy trip out of the mountains. “He’s a nervous flyer, and I’m a nervous flyer,” Stan says. Both marveled at the fact that they’d contained their nerves on the first day of shooting “The Apprentice,” when their characters traveled together via helicopter. “We both go, ‘Yeah — but there was a camera.’”

Stan’s aggressive approach to research came in handy on “A Different Man,” which shot before “The Apprentice.” His character’s disorder, neurofibromatosis, is caused by a genetic mutation and presents as benign tumors growing in the nervous system. After being healed, he feels a growing envy for a fellow sufferer who seems unbothered by his disability.

Stan’s co-star, Adam Pearson, was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis in early childhood. Stan found the experience challenging to render faithfully. “I said many times, I can do all the research in the world, but am I ever going to come close to this?” Stan says. “How am I going to ever do this justice?”

Plus, he had precious little time to prepare: “He was fully on board, and the film was being made weeks later,” director Aaron Schimberg says. “Zero to 60 in a matter of weeks.”

The actor grappled for something to hold on to, and Pearson sug gested he refer to his own experience of fame. “Adam said to me, ‘You know what it’s like to be public property,’” Stan says.

Pearson recalls describing the experience to Stan this way: “While you don’t understand the invasiveness and the staring and the pointing that I’ve grown up with, you do know what it’s like to have the world think you owe them something.”

That sense of alienation becomes universal through the film’s storytelling: “A Different Man” takes its premise as the jumping-off point for a deep and often mordant investigation of who we all are underneath the skin.

The film was shot in 22 days in a New York City heat wave, and there was, Schimberg says, “no room for error. I would get four or five takes, however many I could squeeze out, but there’s no coverage.”

Through it all, Stan’s performance is utterly poised — Schimberg and Stan discussed Buster Keaton as a reference for his ability to be “completely stone-faced” amid chaos, the director says. And the days were particularly long because Oscar-nominated prosthetics artist Michael Marino was only able to apply Stan’s makeup in the early morning, before going to his job on the set of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”

“Even though I wasn’t shooting until 11 a.m., I would go at like 5 in the morning to his studio, or his apartment,” Stan recalls. The hidden advantage was that Stan had hours to kill while made up like his character, the kind of person the world looks past. “I wanted to walk around the city and see what happened,” Stan says. “On Broadway, one of the busiest streets in New York, no one’s looking at me. It’s as if I’m not even there.” The other reaction was worse: “Somebody would immediately stop and very blatantly hit their friend, point, take a picture.”

It was a study in empathy that flowed into the character. Stan had spoken to Pearson’s mother, who watched her son develop neurofibromatosis before growing into a disability advocate and, eventually, an actor. “She said to me, ‘All I ever wanted was for someone to walk in his shoes for a day,’” Stan recalls. “And I guess that was the closest I had ever come.”

“The Apprentice” forced Stan, and forces the viewer, to do the same with a figure that some 50% of the electorate would sooner forget entirely. And that lends the film its controversy. Those on the right, presupposing that the movie is an anti-Trump document, have railed against it. In a statement provided to Variety, a Trump campaign spokesman said, “This ‘film’ is pure malicious defamation, should never see the light of day and doesn’t even deserve a place in the straight-to-DVD section of a bargain bin at a soon-to-be-closed discount movie store, it belongs in a dumpster fire.” The campaign threatened a lawsuit, though none has materialized.

Asked about the assault scene, Stan notes that Ivana had made the claim in a deposition, but later walked it back. “Is it closer to the truth, what she had said directly in the deposition or something that she retracted?” he asks. “They went with the first part.”

The movie depicts, too, Ivana’s carrying on with her marriage after the violation, which may be still more devastating. “How do you overcome something like this?” asks Bakalova. “Do you have to put on a mask that everything is fine? In the next scene, she’s going to play the game and pretend that we’re the glamorous, perfect couple.” The Trumps, in “The Apprentice,” live in a world of paper-thin images, one that grows so encompassing that Donald no longer feels anything for the people to whom he was once loyal. They’re props in his stage show.

“The Apprentice” will drop in the midst of the most chaotic presidential election of our lifetime. “The way it lands in this extremely polarized situation, for me as an artist, is exciting. I won’t lie to you,” says Abbasi.

When asked if he was concerned about blowback from a Trump 47 presidency, Stan says, “You can’t do this movie and not be thinking about all those things, but I really have no idea. I’m still in shock from going from an assassination attempt to the next weekend having a president step down [from a reelection bid].”

Stan’s job, as he sees it, was to synthesize everything he’d absorbed — all those videos on his phone — into a person who made sense. This Trump had to be part of a coherent story, not just the flurry of news updates to which we’ve become accustomed.

“You can take a Bach or a Beethoven, and everyone’s going to play that differently on the piano, right?” Stan says. (His pianist mother named him for Johann Sebastian Bach.) “So this is my take on what I’ve learned. I have to strip myself of expectations of being applauded for this, if people are going to like it or people are going to hate it. People are going to say whatever they want. Hopefully they should think at least before they say it.”

It’s a reality that Stan is now used to — the work is the work, and the way people interpret him is none of his business. Perhaps that’s why he has run away from ever being the same thing twice. “I could sit with you today and tell you passionately what my truth is, but it doesn’t matter,” he says. “Because people are more interested in a version of you that they want to see, rather than who you are.”

“The Apprentice” has been the subject of extreme difference of opinion by many who have yet to see it. It’s been read — and will continue to be after its release — as anti-Trump agitprop. The truth is chewier and more complicated, and, perhaps, unsuited for these times.

“Are we going to live in a world where anyone knows what the truth is anymore? Or is it just a world that everyone wants to create for themselves?” Stan asks.

His voice — the one that shares a slight accent with Trump but that is, finally, Stan’s own — is calm and clear. “People create their own truth right now,” he says. “That’s the only thing that I’ve made peace with; I don’t need to twist your arm if that’s what you want to believe. But the way to deal with something is to actually confront it.”

[iloveboysinred]

Closer to you [firelord Zuko]

Mdni 18+ | Firelord Zuko x fem! Reader smut

synopsis; -could be read as a prequel to Under the Canopy , you and Zuko have finally wed months after his coronation, you take a vacation to a beach home, where the two of you finally consummate your marriage and take the time to learn each other’s bodies

Cw- Oral, (f and m recieving), mentions of heirs, you and zuko don’t have sex until marriage, reader masturbates while Zuko is asleep, rough sex at the end, pain with virginity loss, virginity loss for both, outdoor sex, sappy fluff, reader and Zuko are both in their 20’s minimal editing bc i’m sure a small amount of ppl will read this i tried to include banners for the time skips but they weren’t cooperating soooo sorry for the spaces😭

5.5k words

Masterlist

“Esteemed guests and loyal citizens of the fire nation, we gather here today to witness the momentous occasion of Firelord Zuko and lady Y/n’s union.”

You let out a nervous breath, gripping the bouquet of red lilies to ease your nerves. This was it, your wedding day. You felt lightweight, your heart fluttering in your chest as the Head Fire sage continued his greeting. You glanced over at Zuko, who looked regal as ever, his hair neatly pulled back in a top knot with not a single hair out of place. He was wearing elegant robes to match yours, and his crown sat neatly against his bun, soon to be identical to your very own, sitting on a cushion right behind the Fire Sage.

Zuko caught your glance, his lips curling into a sweet smile and making your heart soar.

“We honor the union between Firelord and Firelady as they say their vows and become one in leadership.” Your full attention was now fully on the sage, ready to say your vows and complete the ceremony to take your place as Firelady, as well as your place as Zuko’s wife.

“Do you, Lady Y/n, promise your heart and loyalty to both the fire nation and firelord as Firelady and sovereign ruler of this nation?” Your mouth suddenly felt dry, your stomach turning as you realized that what you would say next would change the trajectory of your life. You would now devote your life to being a partner, a ruler, a wife. There was no backing out, no running away from the pressures of your new life and the responsibilities that came with it.

Knowing the weight of your next words, you spoke them with confidence, all doubts dissolving in your mind.

“I do.”

******

The celebration was grandiose. The large ballroom of the palace is alive with music and chatter between the guests. Banners of deep reds and gold decorate the space. Large tapestries of the fire nation insignia drape down from the walls, basking the room in warm colors, the extravagant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling tying it all together.

You sat next to Zuko on your thrones, the slew of gifts and offerings from your guests neatly set out in front of the both of you on a table for all to see and bring more as they please.

“I don’t think I've had the chance to tell you today,” Zuko’s voice cuts through the fray, drawing your attention back to him. Not that it wandered very far in the first place. You raised your eyebrows, prompting him to continue. “But you look so beautiful, esteemed Firelady of the Fire nation.” there was a hint of teasing to his tone, the honorifics sounding so unnatural coming from his lips. “Why thank you, Mr.Firelord” you playfully quipped, he snorted leaning forward to rest his forehead on yours. “I also don't think I've told you that I love you today” he murmured, ghosting his lips over yours. & you felt as if you'd swallowed a spoonful of honey, your unspoken words of affection settling a warm pool in your chest. “So tell me, your highness” you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips basking in the radiant smile that graced his face. “I love you.” and his words were all you could hear. In the midst of the grandeur it suddenly was just you and him. Heart to heart.

Just as you were going to respond, Kitara and Aang came up to you, bright smiles on their faces as they voiced their congratulations and well wishes. You couldn't help but eye the betrothal necklace around her neck, so similar to the one passed down to her by her mother, but uniquely crafted to represent her and Aang’s love. You ghosted your fingers over your wedding ring; a beautiful red jewel held in silver, the center piece in the shape of a lotus flower. You smiled, things had really changed since you’d last seen them.

“Really? That's amazing, congratulations you two” your train of thought was interrupted and you quickly tried to pick back up on the conversation. “Thank you, Zuko. We’ll hope to see you two at the presenting ceremony” Aang smiled, placing his hand over Kitara’s stomach. And you beamed, looking at Zuko with an excited look on your face. “Kitara? You’re expecting? What wonderful news! We wouldn’t miss it for the world, don’t worry!” You gasped, reaching out to tenderly place your hand over her still flat stomach. You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, this was someone you’d basically grown with. You had seen it all together and now— oh. The sudden thought struck you and you glanced over at Zuko, who had turned a few shades too red when he caught your eye, seemingly knowing what you were thinking.

As Firelady it was your duty to both serve your nation and your husband as a dutiful wife and leader. Part of that duty was to provide an Heir. An heir. the thought sat heavy and unspoken between the two of you. Sitting back up to keep yourself composed, you exchanged a few more words of congratulations with Aang and Kitara before they headed back to mingle with the rest of the party.

“And now, the first dance for the newlyweds. Please clear the ballroom!”

Zuko stood from his seat, your train of thought having little time to continue running rampant in your mind before he turned to you and extended his hand out for you to take. “May I have this dance, lady y/n?” He mused and you rolled your eyes at him, a soft smile adorning your face. “Don’t be cheesy, baby” you giggled, your cheeks burning as he led you to the center of the ballroom.

The crowd dispersed to give you your space, the spotlight now on you and your husband. The lights were dimmed and the band began to play slow, sentimental music as you and Zuko swayed together wrapped in each other’s arms. His eyes glistened with emotion as he stared into your gaze his irises warm pools of melted honey, filled to the brim with affection and love for you. Despite the people in the room, the gazes you and Zuko exchanged were private. Unspoken words and emotions translated into touch—his hand snug on your waist and your arms tight around his shoulders. He held you closer, your body flush against his. The warmth of his body seeped into you through your dress, the natural scent of cinnamon and citrus you had come to know as his comforted you as it took over your senses. Tenderly, you leaned your cheek on his chest, closing your eyes and losing yourself in him

It was only when the music stopped that you came back to reality. Parting from Zuko’s embrace to envelop his lips in yours, the crowd cheered and swooned at your unabashed display of love. He held onto you proudly in front of the crowd, adjusting the newly acquired crown on your head as you pulled away from him. There was no question that you were his and that he was yours, and the entirety of the world knew it.

As the night went on, you and Zuko prepared for your short voyage to the beach house he had specifically built for you as a token of his affections. It was meant to be a two week stay in which you and Zuko would be mostly alone, enjoying the last few moments of freedom together before you’d be just as wrapped up in political meetings and paperwork as he was. While you packed, you couldn't help but let your mind drift back to thoughts of the future. How many children would you have? When would you have them? Were you even ready? You tried to shake them off but they plagued your mind, a blush warming your cheeks when you’d thought about how exactly you’d reach that goal. You shivered, imagining exactly how it would feel to be at your husband’s mercy. Vulnerable and open for his taking. It sent a strong surge of heat through your body, and you squeezed your knees together to force it away. You briefly wondered if Zuko was thinking the same way you were.

The trip went by quickly, and you soon found yourself in the grand hall of the very sizable beach home Zuko had designed. It was open; large floor to ceiling windows allowed vast amounts of sunlight to bathe the space, a stark contrast to the comforting darkness of the palace. The walls were painted beige and the home had sandy brown hardwood flooring. Multiple portraits for your families adorned the halls, the newly completed tapestry of you and Zuko was the center-piece, taking up an entire wall all on its own. You sat at one of the windows, soaking in the view of the beach in front of you. It was serene, the ocean stretched on forever, beautiful blue shining with the sun tucked over the horizon. The warm breeze gently blowing through your hair brought with it the calming scents of the ocean and you sighed, relaxing into the beach chair you had brought with you.

Zuko was in the kitchen trying his best to replicate the simple recipes Iroh had attempted to instill in him when he was just a boy. He cut the vegetables and trusted his hand when adding the spices. The stew he had begun to simmer on the stove emitted a pleasant aroma, and he considered it a success. He covered the pot, putting the fire out and instead replacing it with a weaker flame he had cast with his finger. Leaving the stew on low heat, he decided he would seek you out. Walking out he found you blissed out and relaxed by the opening of the hall. He smiled to himself, padding up to sit beside you in the unoccupied chair. He reached over and grabbed your smaller hand in his, squeezing it to wake you out of your sleep.

*****

“Woah, this is really good, honey!” You hummed in delight as you took another spoonful of the stew Zuko had prepared. You both sat at the table, set right by a large window where you could see a single palm tree overlooking the sandy floor of the beach. The tree swayed in the wind, heavy with coconuts and shading a significant amount of space. A perfect lounge spot for after your meal, you thought. “Yeah, it's pretty alright. Uncle taught me this recipe when we were in Ba Sing Se” a smile quirked at his lips, fondness in his eyes as he remembered his uncle. “He only made it for me once, but he made sure to write down all his recipes…I guess it came in handy.” You nodded, reaching over to briefly squeeze his hand in comfort before hungrily returning to your bowl. Zuko chuckled as you scarfed the stew down, shaking his head as he brought another spoonful to his lips.

*****

Night had fallen by the time you and Zuko had finished unpacking and settling in. You sat outside on the beach floor, on a large towel protecting you from the grainy sand beneath you. The moon reflected beautifully in the dark water, the gentle sound of waves crashing onto shore making you feel a sense of calm. Zuko sat next to you, wearing nothing but a beach towel around his waist and a pair of shorts. He distractedly stared up at the night, hundreds of stars gleaming against the sky. You leaned closer to him as the chilly breeze blew over your bare shoulders, the bikini top you wore doing absolutely nothing to shield you from the cold. Zuko pressed a warm kiss to the crown of your head, wrapping his arm around you. “Cold?” He murmured, nosing into your hair. “A little- but I think I'll be okay.” He hummed, reaching down to undo the knot holding his beach towel together. Your eyes widened slightly and you blushed, holding your breath as he pulled it away, his bare thighs now in full view. You shyly looked away as he wrapped the towel over your shoulders, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.

Zuko was always affectionate with you, so you almost paid it no mind when his hand rubbed up and down your hip, or when his warm lips grazed the skin of your throat, his hair tickling your neck as he pressed wet kisses down your skin. His touch was careful, almost hesitant as his kisses crept lower and lower down your chest. You jerked as his hand came up to trace over the fabric of your bikini top, the pad of his thumb briefly brushing against your clothed nipple. He halted at your reaction, pulling away with an apologetic look on his face. “Was that too much? I’m sorry-“ you shook your head, your hand coming up to cradle his face.

Your stomach fluttered when his eyes met yours, the blush on his face a dead giveaway of his anxiety. “I actually..liked it” you offered a reassuring smile, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Zuko pressed back into you, his hand coming up to tangle with yours, still cradling his cheek. His other arm found its home on your waist, pulling you closer and leaving you breathless as he deepened the kiss your exposed skin meeting his bare chest sending a shiver up your spine. He slowly lowered you on the towel, his hands leaving you to lift your thighs over his. He pulled away from you panting, his heart lurching in his chest as he looked at you beneath him, your face flushed and your lips kiss-swollen.

His eyes flitted down your body, stopping at the loosely tied knots of your bikini. He gazed back up at you, his eyes glinting with something unfamiliar. Slowly, he dragged his hands down your sides, your breath baited as his hands trailed down your waist, his eyes locked on yours. You felt pinned down by his gaze, too drawn in to even think about moving. Finally, he stopped at the knots tying your bikini together, teasing them with the tips of his fingers, slipping them in and out from under the straps.

It felt like the desire in his eyes would consume you, and you spread your thighs wider to welcome him in.

“I wanna taste you, baby.” He breathed, quiet words for only you to hear. You slowly nodded your head, the desire burning in your core rendering you defenseless against the temptation of having your husband between your thighs— hungry for your intimacy.

He was swift, pulling the strings and undoing the knots. He held his breath, pulling the cloth off with nimbility. The cool air blew over your dampening folds, making your legs quiver with the urge to close. He sighed in relief, as if your pussy was the solution to all his problems, and maybe it was; because Zuko pressed his lips to your pussy, breathing you in and moaning at the taste. You gasped, covering your face in abashment as he experimentally flattened his tongue against you, trying to catch every little drop of your essence on his tongue. For the first few minutes it was just that– Zuko experimenting, finding his rhythm and poking and prodding with his tongue, your pretty sounds of pleasure guiding him.

It was only when his tongue passed your clit over in a swipe that you arched into his mouth, gasping as your hands came down to tangle in his hair, pushing him further in between your legs that he got the idea on how to pleasure you further.

And he wasted no time abusing this newfound discovery.

He closed his eyes, wrapping his glistening lips around the delicate bud and sucking on it, his tongue a tight squeeze around the suction as the tip flicked and swiped over the surface. You felt like you were floating, waves of pleasure coursing through your body in alternating intensity. You laid there, your mouth open in a soundless moan as his fingers found your entrance, teasing over the delicate opening before sliding in with ease, the mix of spit and your arousal making it easy. It didn’t take too long for you to come undone at his hands, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to build you up. The high was exhilarating, your toes curling as his fingers continued to move against your plush walls, your pussy twitching and spasming around his fingers and tongue. You pulled him off with shaking hands, his lips and chin glistening with the creamy residue of your orgasm. He was panting when his lips found yours again, pressing you hard into the towel as his weight overtook you. You kissed him back, clinging onto his shoulders as the breath was pulled from your lungs.

Carefully, he pulled away from you looking at you in complete adoration. His dark hair was disheveled and frizzy, but he could care less as he brought you to his chest, his arms secured around your waist. “That was…” “amazing.” you finished his sentence, looking up at him in earnest. He smiled, nodding his head in agreement. “Yes. amazing,” he ran his fingers through your hair lovingly, “better than i’ve ever imagined.”

******

The next few days went by in a blur. You and Zuko had opted to start exploring the island, going to local markets and indulging in the culture the small village had cultivated. They welcomed you both kindly, offering all kinds of commodities and gifts to the newlywed leaders of the fire nation. In a way, you felt at home. The beach home had become a safe haven, the two of you retreating to its safety whenever the day had been fulfilling. You sat in the kitchen as he cooked, staring a little too hard at the rippling muscles on his back. You shifted in your seat, briefly remembering the way he had so carelessly taken his fill of you on the beach just nights prior. A wave of heat overcame you and you felt your clit pulse in exhilaration. He turned towards you, setting your plate on the counter and sitting himself next to you. Humming, you brought a spoonful of the rice and pork he had prepared, moaning in delight as the flavor bathed your taste buds.”If I knew you could cook like this, I'd give the palace cooks a lot more days off.” you joked, bringing another spoonful of the food to your mouth, chewing happily. “You never asked,” he smiled as he watched you eat, taking a sip of his water. “I'd cook you anything you want.” you nodded in appreciation “i’ll keep that in mind.”

Finished with the meal the two of you washed the dishes together, chatting and joking around. Your arms were covered to the elbow in suds, and you playfully flung some him his way, giggling at the stricken look on his face. “Oh you think you’re funny,” he grabbed a large mass of the suds, smearing it over your hair. “Hey!” quickly a fight ensued, suds and water flying back and forth throughout the kitchen. Moments later, you laid on the floor with your wet shirt stuck to your chest. Zuko sat next to you in a criss-cross, wiping the soap water off his forearms. He gently began to pat the remaining suds off your hair. Sighing, you closed your eyes as he began to thread his fingers through your damp locks, pressing warm kisses to your face every now and again. It was dark outside, and the beach house was dimly lit with the flames of the wall lamps, creating a calming atmosphere. You almost wanted to doze off right there. “Had enough?” he playfully poked your side, earning a gentle swat at his hands. “Mmh, more than enough. M’tired.” he chuckled, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “Tired, huh? That's new.” his face crept to yours leaving a sweet kiss lingering on your wet cheek. “Let’s head to the shower and then we can sleep all you want.”

But sleep didn’t come easy. Your mind kept replaying the events from a few nights ago over and over in your head while Zuko slept peacefully next to you, pressed against your side. Staring up at the ceiling, you tried to ignore the aching in your pussy, your body and mind betraying you, the dampening of your panties impossible to ignore. Your heart sped up as your mind replayed the obscene memories of your husband between your legs, lapping up your arousal and deliciously bringing you to your climax. Sighing, your hand crept down to your panties, hesitantly teasing at the silky band. Glancing over at Zuko, you faltered. Your husband was a fairly deep sleeper, one quick little swipe wouldn’t wake him up, right? You pushed the hesitation away, slipping your hand past the band and parting your pussy lips with the tip of your fingers. You sighed as your clit brushed against the pad of your finger, sensitive and pulsing.

You tested the waters, rubbing your nub from side to side, biting your finger to muffle the small gasps of delight leaving your lips. The rhythm you had started soon became dull and you pressed harder, now rolling circles into your clit trying to mimic the sensation Zuko’s tongue had provided. Soon you had built a pattern of alternating between small, tight circles over your clit to quick, heavy swipes over the surface. It was intoxicating, the waves of pleasure rolling over you, and subsequently it became harder to keep your whines at bay. Zuko shifted beside you and you flinched, looking to see if he was still asleep. His breathing stayed even, and he didn’t move again so you resumed, sneaking your hand a little lower to tentatively sink a finger in, slightly leaning forward to sink it in further up to your first knuckle, gasping as you felt the warm, wet suction of your walls. Lost in the haze, you almost jumped out of bed when you felt your husband’s warm hand cup over your pussy, his face coming up to lay over your collarbone. “Hmm, I thought you were tired.” he rasped, his sleep laden voice making your pussy clench around your fingers in response, warmth pooling in your core. “I-i’m sorr-” he cut you off, pressing his lips against your own, swallowing your apology. “Don’t be.” he murmured, his hand easing yours away from your pussy and replacing your fingers with his own. “You could’ve just asked..” you leaned back, spreading your legs wider to give him more room. “Didn’t wanna..wake you.” you sighed in pleasure, Zuko’s fingers filling you up nicely, his pace moderate as he pumped them in and out of you, muffled squelching from your arousal sounding from under the covers. “If this is what I'm waking up to, I wouldn't mind.” he slowly lifted the covers up from your bodies, discarding them behind him on the bed. You moaned, feeling his lips trail hot kisses down your body.

He stopped his trail right at your navel, shifting so that he could situate himself in between your legs. “What a mess..” he sighed, eagerly pressing his mouth to your soping wet pussy, lapping up anything he could. “Pussy so sweet, I don't think I'll ever be satisfied.” your face burned as he buried himself into you, his nose bumping up against your clit as he shoved his tongue inside of you, pushing it in as far as he could go. “Don’t say stuff like that..” you whined, your legs quivering as he pulled away to suckle on your clit. He said nothing, too preoccupied with slipping his fingers into you, groaning into your cunt as your taste bathed his tongue. His eyes were closed in half-awake bliss, and you briefly felt bad for waking him up so late. Looking down at him, you noticed his hips jolting into the bed, his muffled groans only increasing in volume the faster he went. It was clear that he needed relief too.

You tapped his shoulder, waking him from his entrancement and pulling him up towards you. He sat up, confusion in his sleepy gaze. “I..i want you to feel good too, Zuko” you pointed at his crotch, the hard outline of his dick bold in the fabric of his boxers. “You don’t have to baby, I'm fine with just taking care of you,” you shook your head, running your fingers over the bulge, smiling when you felt him shiver under your touch. “I want to.” he nodded, helping you ease off his boxers, your mind reeling as his dick hung heavy between his legs, thick and glistening with pre. “How am I going to do this?” you thought, reaching forward to wrap your hand around his girth, sliding it up and down his length, feeling slightly confident as his breathless moans filled your ears. “Faster baby, please” he gasped, your speed increasing as you stroked him, thumbing over his tip and smearing his precum over it. His hips lightly bucked into your hand, his eyes closing in bliss. Feeling bold, you laid down on your stomach, grazing your lips over the head of his dick. He jolted, his hands coming to rest over your cheeks. “Baby..” you shushed him, looking up into his eyes through your lashes. “Just let me do this. Let me try” and slowly, he dropped his hands from your face, instead resting them on your shoulders as you slipped the tip into your mouth.

Zuko winced, watching as you tried to take him in fully, tears pricking your eyes as his cockhead brushed against the back of your throat. “Just breathe baby..take it easy” you nodded as best you could, breathing through your nose as you tried to swallow him further. It was too much, the thick girth of his dick making you gag and sputter around him. You pulled away heaving for air, a thin line of spit connecting you to his tip. He comfortingly caressed your cheek, brushing your hair away from your face. “You okay?” He rasped, wiping the spit from your bottom lip. You nodded, taking a deep breath before you were on him again, this time holding your breath as your took him whole, forcing his length down your throat for a few heartbeats before pulling upwards, bobbing your head in steady rhythm.

Zuko moaned, your warm mouth sending hot waves of pleasure up his spine and throughout his body. His hands came down to squeeze and knead his balls as you continued sucking him off. You made a mental note to do that for next time, seeing as with every gentle squeeze his dick twitched in your mouth, his legs quivering with every bob of your head. It didn’t take much more for him to pull you off of him, thick spurts of cum oozing out from his aching tip. He panted, eyes laden with sleep and lust as he pulled you towards him, locking lips with yours in a heated kiss. Zuko eased you back into the pillows, his lips hungrily pressed against yours, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip and sucking your tongue into his mouth. His hands wandered over your body, committing every curve and dip to memory, feeling the heat of your arousal against his body. Easing himself between your legs, you tensed feeling the weight of his dick slap over your fluttering pussy. He pulled away, sensing your apprehension. “You okay?” He grabbed your chin, meeting your eyes to his. “We can stop-“ you shook your head “no..i don't want to stop. Just, be gentle, okay?” He leaned down and kissed you again. “Of course I will. We can take all the time you need.”

Pain. Hot, searing pain is all you could feel. Despite ample prep from Zuko’s fingers and tongue, it did little to fully dull the ache that came with the stretch of his length. He was a little more than half way in now, your knuckles white as you gripped his arm for comfort. He pressed warm kisses to your face, your legs hoisted up to his shoulders. It was hard for you to breathe, the air feeling like its completely left your lungs. Was it supposed to hurt this bad? You didnt know, your eyes glossy with tears as your slowly tried to relax your body. “Baby, breathe” Zuko whispered, his lips warm against the skin of your neck. You nodded, trying to take deep breaths and try to focus on something other than his dick splitting you in half. “Just relax okay? You’re doing so good f’me.” His hand came down to rub over your hip, creeping down to lightly trace over your puffy clit, rubbing slow circles into the bud. You squeezed your eyes shut, wrapping your arms iver his shoulders. “Okay, i’m ready..” You whispered, readying yourself. He pressed one last reassuring kiss to your throat before he slowly pushed the rest of himself inside of you, interlacing one of his hands with yours as you winced in pain. The other one still rubbing light circles over your clit.

Seconds dragged on what felt like hours, your hips shifting as the ache slowly began to subside, you suddenly became aware of just how full you were. His dick molded into the plush walls of your tight pussy, your walls fluttering and clenching around him. It was almost overwhelming, having him stretch you out to accommodate everything he had to offer. Zuko slowly moved his hips back and forward, keeping his pace light. His eyes squeezed shut, curses falling from his lips as he relished in the pleasurable grip your pussy had on him.

You closed your eyes, feeling the ache fade away into pleasure. Your nails dug into his back, your back arching into his body. “Fuck” he huffed, his eyes half lidded as he rocked into you, the headboard creaking with every thrust of his hips. The sound of your skin slapping filled the room, the obscene squelching of your wet pussy making you bashful, closing your eyes tight as your face came alight with a rosy blush. Zuko’s eyes drank in the view of your body sprawled out for him, your neck littered in red marks and your lips kiss swollen and puffy. There wasn't a move you could make that escaped his fixation with you, his hands wandering all over your body, kneading the flesh of your ass and thighs roughly. “This pussy was made for me, baby” he grunted, his hand coming down to rub rough circles over your clit. “Z-zuko!” You gasped your toes curling from the flashes of white, hot pleasure shooting up and down your spine. “Spirits- you’re squeezing me so tight baby, fuck” he hissed burrying himself in all the way to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back, the stimulation on your clit and Zuko’s dick beating your insides was all too much. You came hard, harder than you ever could with just your fingers. Your walls clamped down, squeezing him tight as your ecstasy washed over you in violent torrents of mind numbing pleasure…

*******

The remaining days of your vacation you spent in bed. Zuko became insatiable, taking you anywhere and everywhere. And, fortunately for you— it didn’t stop at the beach house.

Back at the palace, when you weren’t wrapped up in meetings you were underneath him, taking his dick anyway he wanted to give it to you. He had learned your body inside out, absuing those spots he knew would drive you insane and eating you out like you were his last meal.

He found that his favorite way to start his day was between your thighs, eating your pussy until you were a shaking mess above him. When you expressed how you wished the mornings with him would last forever, he had a canopy with thick, maroon curtains installed in your bedroom to block out the light and disturbances of the morning. Of course, weeks into marital bliss the subject of Heirs was brought on by his royal advisors. “Not a problem” Zuko stated, squeezing your hand on the armrest of the throne. “We’ll provide an heir in due time.”

*******

“Z-zuko! Slow down!” You moaned, folded almost in half, Zuko thrusting into you, making sure to give you his all. He snickered, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your lips. “We have a duty to uphold” he grunted, sloppily slotting his hot tongue over the seam of your lips, fucking into you with vigor you’ve never felt before. The pleasure was blinding, his cockhead hitting every crevice inside of you, absuing your g-spot with sweet percison. “They want heirs? We’ll give them a fucking million of them.” And by the look in his blown pupils, you could tell he was serious. “Zuko ah! Ah!” You gasped, feeling as though the air was being punched out of your lungs with every smack of his pelvis against your ass. His hand crept down to rub rough circles over your clit, and your head fell back in a silent scream.

“Shh baby, let me take care of you, okay? It’s just us”

[raguiras]

Mionn's art & writing ship trade event

(Click the art for better quality!)

I'm hosting an art & writing event centered around ships & duos (multifandom)!

🖤 REBLOGS ARE SUPER APPRECIATED

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

I've recently reached 200 followers on this blog, 900 on my meme blog, and 100 on Instagram!! Honestly, I don't even know what to say... I feel so damn honored and am so grateful for the support!! 🖤🖤🙏

As a multi-milestone celebration as well as an event for the official Spade of Storms (Deuce x Allen) day, which is on the 27th of July, I decided to host a TRADE EVENT!!!

Basically, this event is going to be an open art/writing trade that's all about ships (or platonic duos).

The event starts on 7/23 (today) and lasts for rest of July as well as for the entirety of August. For every Allen x Deuce art/writing that I receive during this duration, you get one of your own ship from ANY FANDOM back!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Why am I hosting this?

it's a way to thank everyone for three different follower milestones

a contest/DTIYS/raffle wouldn't promise that everyone gets something back, so I went for a trade event

the event allows me to post more about other canon TWST characters and draw them while not having to neglect Allen x Deuce

I wanna make new mutuals & friends, get to know more ships, and strengthen friendships with mutuals I already have!

Artfight is/was tons of fun, but I only do/did colored sketches there & ships are a tricky subject. Meanwhile, I'll do ANYTHING here!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Basic information:

Make a drawing/writing/comic of Allen x Deuce. (Ideas can be found in this post's pink "starters for my ship" section.)

Post it on your blog, tag me in it, and refer to my event. (While posting is by far preferred — especially for bigger artworks and written stuff — you can also just DM it to me.)

In return, you'll receive a gift of the same type for your own ship from any fandom (OC x canon, canon x canon, OC x OC)! I'll DM you about the ship, so make sure that your DMs are open.

For example: If you submit a sketch, you'll get a sketch back. If you submit a fully shaded drawing, I'II make a fully shaded drawing for you, too. If you add a background, I'll (do my best to) do the same. If you write a drabble... You know the drill!

ANYONE can join, whether you follow me or not! However, new followers through the event are super appreciated!

EVENT TIME: July 23th (today) - August 31st

Anything submitted before or after this event duration will not receive anything back (unless we explicitly do a trade), but be held in high regard nonetheless!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Rules:

The portrayal of Allen x Deuce must be shippy/romantic.

Please keep angst at a minimum unless it has a happy ending. Comfort is allowed.

Please DO NOT add your own OC or another canon character to the submission. Including them in the background as a wingman or something is alright, though. Additionally, any kind of romantic implications between Deuce and another character/OC are NOT allowed.

Please no NSFW. Harmless implications and slight spice are okay, but keep in mind that these characters are both minors.

AUs are very much allowed! All the previous rules apply here, too, and I'm willing to give an overview of some AUs via DMs.

Please no genderbending.

Please DO NOT draw Allen or Deuce as a standalone character. This is a SHIP event for a reason.

Please don't change their appearances too much, especially when it comes to the color schemes & body types.

Giving them different outfits — especially event outfits — is absolutely cool (yes, you can draw Allen in a skirt if you wanna), and changing their hairstyles is okay as long as they still look like themselves.

This is NOT A DTIYS event, so please DO NOT redraw one of my Allen x Deuce arts. Please come up with something original.

If you have any more questions, please DM me!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

What CAN you submit?

drawings // comics // writings // animatics

For drawings, anything from a quick sketch to an extremely detailed drawing with a background is allowed! You'll get something of the same quality back. The same also goes for writings/fanfics.

Animatics will receive a drawing in return.

What CAN'T be submitted?

Gacha videos // edits // memes

-> You can theoretically submit all of these and I'd appreciate them, but I wouldn't be able to give you anything back.

Memes refer to funny pictures that simply have Allen & Deuce's faces in them. DRAWN memes/meme redraws count as DRAWINGS.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Starters for Allen x Deuce

Got no clue what to draw/write about?

Check out the few already existing Allen x Deuce posts on this blog for proper lore and facts.

Check @spade-of-storms for fun facts, shorter rambles and additional info.

In any case, you can't go wrong with simple fluffy, romantic scenarios! Dates, kisses, cuddles, whatever!

For information about Allen himself, please check my pinned post.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Q&A:

I want to join the event, but I don't have any ship (OC x canon, canon x canon, OC x OC) you could draw/write about for me in return.

That's okay! In that case, I'll gladly draw/write about two separate characters or a platonic duo for you.

Can I do multiple submissions for this event?

Obviously, and every single one will be "revenged"!

Can I get something of another type/quality back? For example, can I get a fully shaded drawing for my sketch, or art for my drabble?

Unfortunately not, as I prefer to always give something of the same type back. There are only the following two exceptions that I AM willing to do:

you do a drabble/oneshot —> I do a sketch

you do any type of art —> I write a drabble/oneshot

Is there anything you refuse to draw/write about?

Deuce ships (other than Deuce x Allen). NSFW. Family x family. Minor x adult. Any ship considered to be problematic.

How do I tell you about the ship I want you to draw/write about for me?

I'll DM you after you post your event submissions.

Do you prefer to do OC x canon, canon x canon, or OC x OC?

I have a bias towards OC x canon and canon x canon ships. However, I'm willing to do any ship that's not problematic! In the case of OC x OC, I simply need you to provide information on two OCs instead of one only.

Will you do poly ships?

In order to keep things fair, no. But I could include the third party as a plush or chibi head.

I want to make Allen x Deuce content for you, but not receive anything in return.

That's also super appreciated anytime (and totally doesn't make me freak out /pos)! Simply share it as a gift and don't mention the event.

How long is it going to take you to finish your "revenge" on me?

It depends on the type of submission you make & what I'm giving you back. Some things can be done within a day while others may take much longer, but either way, you WILL get something of the SAME TYPE back & that's guaranteed.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Personal notes:

My health isn't the best and I also have a job. Please be respectful and don't rush me nor get mad when I'm being slow.

Please do not start a discussion nor get mad at me if I refuse to draw/write about a ship I deem problematic & want you to pick another one instead. Preferably pick a ship that's by far NOT problematic from the beginning.

I'm unwilling to draw/write about any Deuce ships other than Deuce x Allen because I kin Deuce a ton and tend to feel uncomfortable with many of his ships, so please don't ask for any. I'm asking you to not start a discussion over this, either.

I won't post everything I make for the event on this blog. Sketches and writings will either be DMed to you or posted on one of my other blogs.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

That's it for now! If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to DM me.

And again, thank you so much for 200 followers!

♤ Happy trading! ♤

[cheritzteam]

[Mystic Messenger] A Romanticist♥ Who Comes With the Gentle Spring Breeze, If You Dream of a Sweet Love? April, ZEN’s Birthday Event Announcement

Hello, it’s Cheritz.

These days, we feel that spring has come when we see the flowers and green leaves blooming on the roadside.

Coordinator when you think of spring, what comes to mind first?

New beginnings, cherry blossoms, picnics, lovers, etc... 

It is also said to be the season when love blossoms, perhaps because of the gentle spring breeze.

Perhaps that's why the star of April that we're introducing today is a man you can't help but love(?).

Did everybody catch on~? ZEN’s birthday is back! 💝

For more details, please check below~ 😉

< ① ZEN’s Birthday Event >

What is the surprise gift prepared by Coordinator for ZEN, who is busy with his day job even though his birthday is just around the corner ?!

It is said that you have been thinking for a long time about what gift to give him, who had just started a new project and had little time to sleep.

It is said that you prepared a coffee truck to support him and the staff so they take good care of him.

A coffee truck present is something that every celebrity dreams of at least once.

There are rumors that he was happier because ZEN's first coffee truck present was the Coordinator... ? 

On-site photos showing the happy staff and ZEN will be released soon, so please just a bit. 😉

Additionally, a retweet event will be held at X on ZEN's birthday.

Among those who retweet, we will give away 50 hourglasses⌛ through a drawing♥ (15 people)

Additionally, we have prepared a bonus event to celebrate ZEN's birthday!

Using hashtag ​#happy_birthday_ZEN celebrate his birthday and don’t miss out on the 50 hourglasses⌛ you can get from a drawing♥ (15 people)

Lastly, a discount event on ZEN-related goods will be held to commemorate the birthday.

For those of you who were hesitant to purchase, please★ take advantage of this opportunity!

Cheritz Market Discount Period : March 28th(Thurs) 2PM ~ April 4th(Thurs) 2PM

< ② In-Game Login Event> 

Please access the game during the event period below, enjoy the game with the title image celebrating ZEN's birthday, and celebrate his birthday as well🎉

Also, don’t miss out on ZEN’s birthday celebration login rewards!

Title Image Period : March 28th(Thurs) ~ April 10th(Wed)

ZEN’s birthday celebration login reward : March 31st(Sun) ~ April 3rd(Wed)

Did you receive the April event news we prepared?

We would like to bow our heads in gratitude in advance to the Coordinators who will participate in the birthday celebration event with ZEN.

Just like the warm weather, we hope your daily life is filled with warmth and happiness!

Thank you!

Sincerely, Cheritz

[suckerforlovesblog]

Pretty little thing

Pretty little thing Masterlist

Series summary: All Mr. Shelby wanted was to remarry. He had to find himself another wife after the death of Grace, not just to take care of his son Charlie but also to grant him access to the finer society of Birmingham. All he wanted the girl to be was a pretty little thing on his arm who simply submitted, obeyed and followed his orders.

And he did find the perfect girl - young, very good looking, of a good upbringing, smart but little did he expect her to have such a strong mind of her own…

All he wanted to do was break her in, like a horse had to be, and his new wife put up a good fight but eventually he is sure, he will break her and make her his completely.

Series warning: Dark!Tommy, toxic relationship, abuse, rape, non consensual intercourse, rough sex, age gap, Sir kink, choking - all the things that come with rough smut

Chapter 1: The perfect girl

Summary: Thomas Shelby is out searching for a wife. Most young women in Birmingham throw themselves at him but he doesn’t like that and goes out further to search for the perfect girl to be on his arm whilst hanging on his lips.

Chapter Warning: age gap, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 1.5k

~ tag list: @ncoleys , @amberpanda99 , @priyajoyy @tommyshelbywhore @swordofawriter @goth-cowgirl-03 @thenattitude @sheun-555 @meetmeatyourworst @bruher @frazie99 @blvebanisters @jessimay89 ~

I‘m very intrigued to hear your thoughts!

Also: please let me know what you would like to read! My requests are OPEN!

End of 1925:

Thomas Shelby was still grieving the death of his beloved wife Grace, even after an entire year, and everyone around him knew. He did blame himself for her death because he gave her the bewitched jewel to wear and even put it onto her himself. And she wore it that night, like a target painted on her forehead. But business had to keep going and Charlie desperately needed a mother figure in his life. Frances, the maid, was doing her best and Ada and Polly came to help out from time the time but it just wasn’t the same. He had even hired a governess, a very pretty thing, blonde and petite and at least fifteen years younger then him, to attend to his son’s needs because he couldn’t always be there for him. Thomas who was now nearing forty, also really enjoyed the governess presence, at least when he bend her over a table, fucked her from behind and she didn’t talk. Other than that he avoided her most of the time and let her do her work.

She fulfilled his needs but it didn’t help him with business.

So, Thomas Shelby called a family meeting at Arrow House and now everyone was sitting in front of him in the drawing room: Arthur and Linda, John and Esme, Polly and Michael, Ada, Finn, Charlie, Curly, Jeremia and his son, and Lizzie, of course. Sometimes he still slept with her but she would never be good enough to be his wife. He did like her but Lizzie’s social standing was beneath his new position as a business man.

“Thank you everyone for coming, eh!”, Tommy’s voice boomed: “I have an important announcement to make and I think I need everyone’s help.” All the people in the small room looked at him. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and then said: “I decided that it’s time for me to remarry. It will be good for business.” Lizzie looked at him with wide sad eyes, knowing he would never share the feelings she had for him. Arthur stood up, smiling and went up to give Thomas a small hug, “Proud of you, Tom. Linda will help for sure.” Everyone else looked reassuring and Curly started babbling something no one was able to make out. “May I ask what kind of business you think of concluding?”, Polly said. “Yes but I will not tell just yet ‘eh.”, Tommy says, wetting his lip, “I just think a wife will open up new branches for us and make the company more respectable.” He then puts a cigarette between his lips, after fishing it out of the gold case from the pocket of his coat: “Anyways today is a day to celebrate and I invite you all to dinner. Now, Michael, John and Arthur stay, everyone else I see at dinner.” Thomas lights his cigarette whilst everyone leaves the room except for his brothers and Michael. He sits back down and explains the guys what he’s looking for in his future wife, mostly talking to Michael because the girl should be around his age, a very desirable age in his opinion. The four men make a plan to start the search for his wife tomorrow, starting with all the respectable families in Birmingham and then toast to their success with Irish whiskey, of course.

Early spring of 1926:

Thomas and Michael looked at all the young women in Birmingham, from a respectable upbringing at least. John joked that the two of them fucked their way through Birmingham and that was true to some extent. None of the girls satisfied Thomas’ needs however and Michael was growing tired. “If you keep going like that Tom, we will never find a girl for you. One is not tall enough, the next one doesn’t have enough tits, another one is too stupid, then she is pretty but not gorgeous. This is exhausting.”, Michael says looking at him from the drivers seat of the new Bentley Thomas got. The car was extremely luxurious and expensive.

“Well Michael, we gotta find the perfect girl for me, eh.”, he answered, taking a puff of his cigarette, “She needs to be smart and eloquent for me to be able to bring her around business partners. But she ought to be gorgeous as well because then negotiations will be even easier because men are dumbstruck if they’re accompanied by beautiful women.” Michael also lights a cigarette: “I get that Tom but if we keep going at that speed my dick won’t work anymore with the girl I may marry in the future because I emptied everything I have into some girls” They both laughed and kept driving to meet Alfie Solomons in Camden Town for business.

After driving past the first couple of buildings, he barks at Michael to stop the car and Thomas basically jumps out. He brushes his coat down, fishes a cigarette out of its case and puts it into it mouth leaving Michael more than puzzled. Thomas started walking towards a building, lighting the cigarette with a match and then enters a shop, a tailoring shop it appears. Michael still sits in the car, smoking a cigarette as well and waiting for him to come back.

Thomas looks around the shop, searching for the woman he just saw. He only saw her side profile but Tommy knew she was the one, now on his way to make her his, willing to do whatever it might take and hoping she wasn’t already married. Fuck, even if she was, he were to make her his for sure.

He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t even hear the little bell ring as he entered through the door and then the people inside the shop turning to him. The pretty woman he searched for was sitting behind a desk to his right and he made his way towards her but was stopped abruptly in his step by the owner of the shop. “Sir”, the small man called out, “how may I help you?” “Aye, I need a new suit please and may I have a word with the young lady at the desk?”, Thomas answers. “For sure”, the man says in a low purr, scarred of the dominance in his voice, “we will leave you to it, Sir.” Tommy nods and the man leaves the shop through the back door, pulling a women behind him.

Thomas approaches the woman. She was already looking at him through her Y/E/C eyes, smiling lightly. “Hello miss, my name is Thomas Shelby, owner of the Shelby Company Limited. I saw you out in the street and you caught my eye”, he said and smiled an earnest smile. “My name is Y/N, my farther is the owner of the shop.”, the girl answered. He looked at her thoroughly and she got even more prettier the longer he looked at her. Although Thomas didn’t feel any affection towards her but she was very pretty for sure and he knew that she would be the perfect wife: young, a pretty face and fine features, nice hair, a slim figure. Her voice was very calm and had a pretty sound to it. He knew she would be the perfect little thing on his arm. He looks at her with his icy blue eyes, “Tell me sweetheart, how old are you?” “I just turned 18, Sir”, she said. The obedience and innocence in her voice made him hard, without help anyways, for the first time since Grace died. His heart ached for his lost love but he needed this to work and pushed the face of his dead wife out of his thoughts. “You’re not married, eh?”, he asked the girl more nearly twenty years younger then him. She shook his head, seemingly submitting him to, scarred of his booming figure. He really liked that and smiled: “Please get your farther to me, I need to speak with him. In private. And take the measurements for the suit I ordered, will you sweetheart?” She got up, nodding and getting her farther at first, afterwards measuring him and writing all the details down for his order. She was sent out shortly after, leaving her farther with the unknown man with the pretty blue eyes.

“Tell me Sir, is everything to your liking so far”, the old man asked Thomas. “Yes, indeed”, he answered with his thick Birmingham accent, “I would like to marry your daughter. I know this sounds rushed but she immediately caught my eye and I can provide for her very well.” The older man, the girls farther, looked at him reserved and averse. Thomas looked at him with his blue piercing eyes, radiating pride and dominance and the older man submitted. “Listen, eh, I give you a great deal for her and promise to provide and care for the girl.”, Thomas says, putting another cigarette between his lips, letting it dangle for a little while before lightning it with a match.

He pursued the conversation for a little while longer, settling everything important, like the wedding date and the money the family will receive. After it was all settled Thomas went outside of the shop, calling Michael to set up and then seal the document.

The girl came back into the shop, Thomas walked over to her and put his hand on her waist. She looked up at him confused but he just smiled at Michael: “Meet my darling fiancé, Y/N. We will be married in two weeks time and she will be Mrs. Shelby.”

[thecapricunt1616]

Ginseng (c.b. one shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): The sound of the faucet drowned out the unlocking and shutting of the apartment door when Carmy had come home early today. He hoped to surprise you and have a romantic evening together. But to his surprise when he got in, he heard the bathtub faucet, silently wishing you hadn’t gotten in the bath yet - he quietly took off his backpack and sneakers, nudging the bedroom door open. “Angel?” He said softly, expecting you to be near the slightly open bathroom door, taking your hair down or washing off your makeup from the day. He shut the bedroom door out of habit from living with Steve in New York and headed towards the bathroom hearing your silent pleas as you tried your best to get an orgasm finally. That was something Carmy was your first for. You’d been well experienced sexually, but Carmy? He gave you your first-ever orgasm. For some sad reason you could never get there with your fingers, and your previous partners never got you there. 

♡ Chapter Inspo: Ginsengs magickal uses include; love, beauty, protection, healing & lust. Carry this herb to draw love, health, money, and sexual potency. Carve a wish into a whole root and throw it into water to make the wish come true. ♡ Summary: Carmy gets home to find you ... a little lascivious, and offers to help being the polite gentleman he is! ♡ W/C: 800+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/28/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello! Happy day 3/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡ Here ♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from a sweet anon, ask can be found right ♡ here ♡ , I hope you enjoy anon! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Smutty smut smut, AFAB!Fem!Reader, Reader not described (pic's are purely for vibes only), swearing, and typical TB trigger warnings

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

Carmy had been…absent. That’s how you’d been putting it to yourself. You wanted to call it neglectful - but, you knew that would be dramatic considering the fact you truly understood why he wasn’t home, wasn’t tending to your needs as you’d teased him about in the early mornings. 

He’d grumble, nuzzling his strong nose into your neck and kissing lightly along your sensitive skin beneath your ear, muttering ‘M’sorry babydoll’ into your soft skin. He’d get up out of bed in your Chicago apartment, before the sun had even kissed the edge of the horizon and go take a freezing cold shower to wake himself up. 

You found yourself tonight, a pathetic little Friday night it was. In your shared bath/shower, legs spread wide enough for the perfect pressured water to hit your clit. You were a mess, whining and moaning like a pornstar. You didn’t care how you sounded, because Carmy was never home before 9pm. You’d assumed it was no later then 9, you’d just gotten in the bath at 8:40. Little known to you, it had been over an hour. 

You’d had 4 glasses of red wine, not enough to get you drunk - but enough to get you hot and bothered. You always got like this when you had red wine. You’d joked it was your ‘slutty grape juice’ which always made Carmy giggle. 

“you own me- mmffuck” you whined, 3 fingers deep in your cunt as the water attacked your clit brutally, back arched against the baths porcelain floor and nipples hard and perky. Your mouth was agape, soft pants falling from your lips and eyes fluttered shut as your manicured toes curled. 

The sound of the faucet drowned out the unlocking and shutting of the apartment door when Carmy had come home early today. He hoped to surprise you and have a romantic evening together. But to his surprise when he got in, he heard the bathtub faucet, silently wishing you hadn’t gotten in the bath yet - he quietly took off his backpack and sneakers, nudging the bedroom door open. “Angel?” He said softly, expecting you to be near the slightly open bathroom door, taking your hair down or washing off your makeup from the day. 

He shut the bedroom door out of habit from living with Steve in New York and headed towards the bathroom hearing your silent pleas as you tried your best to get an orgasm finally. That was something Carmy was your first for. You’d been well experienced sexually, but Carmy? He gave you your first-ever orgasm. For some sad reason you could never get there with your fingers, and your previous partners never got you there. 

“yes daddy, fill me up- please-” you lamented, back arching in pleasure and sobbing out hot, wanton moans and cries. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit” he murmured to himself as he pushed the door open. The door creak was just loud enough for your attention to be grabbed, and your head snapped to the right to see him standing there. You snapped your legs closed, quickly sitting up, mouth shutting with a click of your teeth and the feeling of heat flooding your cheeks, your eyes wide as an owl. 

“I- oh - you’re- uh. Welcome home?” You said coyly, covering your perked breasts with your arms. Every intimate part of you felt flushed, pulsing with need. Your nipples were hard, clit was hard, pussy was throbbing and clenching - fuck. You needed him badly. But couldn’t help but feel nearly…perverted? 

“Can- uh…” he swallowed thickly. 1 year and 8 months of being together, being official as he called it - and he was still so shy as his eyes raked over your naked body. “Can I help?” he came over, kneeling next to the tub and gently caressing your warm cheek with the back of his hand. “You sound so pretty sweetheart you miss me this bad mm?” he trailed his hand down your neck, over your breast, squeezing the sensitive flesh gently.

“Gosh Bear” you sunk down in the shallow pool of water, spreading your thighs once more “Please- please help me” You begged and rested your head back gratefully. His hand found your core, rubbing against your swollen clit with his middle and forefingers, that exact rhythm he knew you loved. Your hips jerked, gasping unintentionally and pinching your nipple for added pleasure. 

“Yeah? Feel good huh? Gonna cum on my hand?” he curled his fingers against your G-spot and you gasped, grabbing his wrist and feeling the tendons flex beneath your fingers as he continued to fingerfuck you absolutely stupid.

“Missed you daddy” you manage to get between your lips, reaching your hand up to touch his face gently. He took your hand with his non-dominant one, kissing the palm.

“So patient, yeah? My patient, sweet kitten” he kissed your forehead and you whine out in pleasure, his hand holding open your thigh on one side, elbow working the other to assure you stayed spread wide for him as he worked you through it, gummy walls clenching tight making lewd wet noises, and hips twitching up in overstimulation. “Thats it, mmm? Waited like a good girl, my good girl” he cooed, kissing your nose gently, intimately, as he rubbed your clit to walk you through it.

“Glad I didn’t make a mess this time” you breathe, chest moving a bit rapidly as you finished your comedown. Carmy kissed up your calf, to your knee and thigh

“Y’think im done w’you t’night?”

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 ; 𝘤𝘣98 ୨୧

➪ summary: connor's favorite thing about having his girlfriend in chicago is the nights he gets to come home to her

➪ warnings: none

➪ word count: 1.1k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: i completely forgot i wrote this. just a little fic (it's basically a blurb but i wrote like 50 words over a thousand so by my definition it's not) anyway, i hope you guys a short connor little thing today!

© sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

cb98 masterlist || nhl masterlist || new taglist || navigation

Dating the first overall pick was an experience, to say the least. Y/n and Connor had been dating since they were sixteen and she was by his side every step of the way through his hockey career. 

When they knew where Connor was going to be drafted, the two of them got this sinking feeling in their stomachs. They didn’t want to do long distance, it would be too hard on both of them. However, there was something that y/n never told Connor. 

She applied to the University of Illinois-Chicago on a whim. She didn’t think she would get in, so she didn’t see the point in telling her boyfriend about it. Yet, when she got her acceptance letter, she was troubled. She had never seen the campus, knew nothing about Chicago in general, she didn’t know what classes she would have to take. 

But, when she thought about the other schools she had looked at, none of them even compared to being just down the street from where Connor would be every day that he wasn’t on a road trip. None of them were worth being so far away from her boyfriend. 

A week after she got her letter she sat Connor down to talk. Connor didn’t like the way y/n sounded when she said, ‘I need to talk to you’. 

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

“Con, I need to talk to you.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed and sat down on y/n’s couch holding her hand as y/n looked around anxiously.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What, no, of course not. There’s just something I have been keeping from you.”

“I don’t know if I should be relieved or more nervous now.”

Y/n laughed nervously, “No, uh. You know how we were talking about how we didn’t want to do long distance?”

“Yeah?”

“We might not have to.” Y/n handed the envelope to her boyfriend and watched his reaction nervously. 

Connor had a confused look on his face as he looked at his girlfriend and then at the envelope. He opened and his face was met with the UIC causing him even more confusion. 

“You applied to Chicago?” Y/n just nodded her head and urged him to keep reading. 

He only had to scan a few lines before he was standing up and looking at the girl, “You got in?”

“Mhm.” Before he celebrated he contemplated the situation. He didn’t want her to move to Chicago just because he was going to be there. He loved her and he wanted her to be there, but he didn’t want her to give up her life for him. 

“But what about-”

“‘But what about’ nothing, Connor. I love you and I want to be with you. And if that means going to Chicago with you, I will. Chicago has something no other school doesn’t.”

“What?”

“You, you big dope.”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

Connor was forever grateful that she kept that secret from him. If he knew that she applied to UIC and didn’t get in, he would be devastated. However, there were ups and downs to being there in Chicago. Connor rarely saw y/n despite her being just down the street from the UC. 

Any time he had an off day, she would have class and anytime she didn’t have class, he would have practice or a game. It was the luck of the draw when they got to be with each other. At points in time, they both thought it would’ve been better if they just stayed in their respective cities. 

Overall, those cons were outweighed by the pros. When Connor had a rough day he could literally walk to her apartment to the UC, though he never did. And when y/n had her rough days, she would call Connor and they could be at each other's places within minutes. Though most days when they had a night game, or any game really, Connor ended up staying at her apartment. 

That was what happened tonight. Y/n was watching the game from her apartment, she had lucked out with only getting one roommate and she had gone home for the break. It was the Friday after Thanksgiving and y/n didn’t particularly want to go home, spending time with Connor was enough for her. 

They had played the Leafs and Kevin scored the overtime goal with an assist from Connor. She had cheered so loudly that she was glad that almost everyone had gone home for the break. She watched post-game live including the interviews and everything that went along with it. When it was done, she turned on the Vancouver game as background noise while she added some food for her and Connor along with some cookies for later. 

She truly had no way of knowing when and if Connor was coming back tonight, but she knew him. She sort of blacked out from the end of the game to when Connor came in through the door, causing her to jump when she heard the sound of his bag against the floor. 

“Hey, Con.”

“Hi.” He took off his suit jacket and his hat, his cheeks rosy from the of Chicago. 

“Thought you guys would be celebrating.” Y/n turned around from where she was stirring at the stove.

“They offered but cuddling with you was much more tempting.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped his head onto her shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

“Soup and I went out and got a bunch of stuffing, because why not.”

“Thank you.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek, “Always.”

Connor went to shower and change as she finished making their food. The two sat and ate dinner while watching the game, talking about whatever came to mind. Connor was going to go shopping with her tomorrow even though Black Friday was today. They were going to buy Christmas decorations so they could decorate her room and part of the main area of the apartment. 

When they were done and the game was done, they climbed under the covers of her bed, Connor wrapping his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest. 

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“Your OT goal assist. Con that was amazing.”

Connor shrugged and tightened his hold.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And that’s how almost every game night is spent for Connor and y/n. Those nights were their favorite.

𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗚𝗢 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗛𝗔𝗪𝗞𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @petite-potato4 @absolutelyhugh3s @dyslecticdutchman

© sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[badwritinghabit]

Hello and Goodbye (part 1) | Chef Luca x fem!Reader

Next Chapter

Authors Note: I got a notification today telling me it is the one year anniversary since I started this blog (!!!) so I decided to celebrate by writing something I've had on my mind since I watched season 3 of The Bear. It was a fun writing exercise! It was done in one day so there has been even less editing than usual but I hope y'all still enjoy it. I'm tempted to make a part 2 that is the smut (and/or fluff) that would follow so let me know if you are interested in that!

Warnings: Some making out and references to past sexual encounters. Still not appropriate for minors. References to injuries from working in a restaurant.

Word count: 2,439

Summary: You attend the funeral for Ever and run into Luca. You shared a night together years ago, before he moved away and now that you are back in the same city you find yourselves drawn to each other again. (Coworkers to friends to more?)

You take a breath, calming yourself as you stand outside Ever the day of the funeral. Chef Andrea Terry is a dear friend and mentor. You are happy for her and this new chapter of her life. And you’re excited to see her again, to celebrate with her. It is the rest of the guests that make you nervous. One guest in particular. 

Luca.

You had worked with Luca only briefly, he was already on his way out when you started at Ever. You’d been eager and ready for the challenge when you started. And he’d been kind. It was only the second professional kitchen you’d worked in since culinary school. The first had been harder, the head chef an angry, bitter sort that took out his frustration on the kitchen staff, and as the prep cook you took a lot of the heat. 

At Ever, you started as a line chef under Luca as the sous chef. You learned a lot from Luca. More than that, he had become your friend.

You remember the nights he’d come sit with the rest of the cooks on their smoke breaks. Leg pressed against your own as you shared a makeshift seat– pallets from ingredients dropped off earlier in the day, overturned buckets, whatever you could find. Luca would seek you out during service too. He would offer advice but more than that, he’d walk by and tease you, say something to lighten the mood, pull you back to earth when you were getting overwhelmed. You were so focused on improving your skills, keeping your head down and getting your work done. Somehow Luca seemed to know when you were stuck in your head. His companionship helped you grow without completely burning out. The month you spent working together brought you close, fast. He learned all about your life, your interests, your family. And you learned all about him. 

You walk into the restaurant, wrapping the shawl around your shoulders a little tighter. As you walk through the front hall of Ever, your eyes land on the board of photos from the restaurant’s history. The one that draws your eyes first is one of you, Luca, and Andrea standing around the first dish you had created for the menu. Luca’s face was turned towards you while you beamed at the camera, proud of your accomplishment. A soft smile lights your face at the memory. 

“You came,” you hear Chef Andrea’s voice a second before you feel her arms around you. You lean into her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she does the same in response. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you respond with a smile. “I was just looking at the old pictures.”

“I remember this one,” she points to the same one you were looking at. “I loved that dish. The preparation of the cherries. I knew you’d go on to do big things.” Her kind smile makes you flush in embarrassment. And pride. You bump your shoulder into hers as you both look over the board. “Luca and you always did stick close together,” she says thoughtfully. She points to a few of the photos in particular. After a moment, “He arrived just a few minutes ago.” 

You hum in response, hoping to sound uninterested. Her knowing grin lets you know you failed. 

“Come on, join the party.” She pulls you into the dining room, squeezing your shoulders before she steps away. 

You look around the room, searching through the guests. Your eyes are immediately drawn to Luca, standing to the side and eagerly talking to another Chicago chef that you think you recognize. The other chef seems to be getting a little irritated at Luca’s questioning and you can’t help but smile. Luca had always been a bit of a nerd about cooking, always asking questions, wanting to learn more. You always found it charming but could see that this other chef didn’t agree.

Luca looks almost exactly the same as you remember him. Unbearably handsome. He’s dressed up today for the funeral and something about his all black outfit, his slicked back hair brings back memories of his last day at Ever. His going away party had led to a few too many drinks. You stayed the latest, helping clean up his living room, dancing to the music still pumping from his speakers. One second you were giggling at him about something he said and the next his lips were warm against yours, his hands gripping your hips. The next morning you woke tangled in his sheets and his arms. He was leaving the country, you knew it couldn’t last. And yet you’d buried your face in his chest and held him tighter anyways. 

You blink away the memory, embarrassed as you realize Luca is now meeting your gaze. You smile at him and look away before you can see his reaction, trying to find another friendly face in the crowd. 

You spot Sydney, a chef you’d gotten to know recently. You step towards her only to notice that she is sitting with Carmen, another chef you worked with at Ever. You smile at them both as you join them at the table. “Is this seat open?” you ask. Syd grins and stands to give you a hug. Carmen watches with an awkward shift of his feet as you pull away from Syd, clearly considering whether he should do the same. You put him out of his misery by pulling him into a quick hug as well. 

“It’s good seeing you both!” you say as you sit down. “I went to your restaurant the other day. It’s really extraordinary.”

Sydney waves off your compliments, and your conversation flows easily. The whole table of chefs sharing stories and joking.

You feel him before you see him. His hand grips the back of your chair as he slides into the seat next to you. He says your name and you turn to look at him. His hand slides from the back of the chair to your shoulder. You tense underneath him, his hand warm against the skin only partially covered by the strap of your dress. 

“Luca. Hey,” his name comes out too soft, your face already heating under his gaze. You smile at him before looking back at Sydney who is giving you a questioning look, raising her eyebrows. 

You scrunch your nose in reply as you grab the glass in front of you and take a big drink, steadying yourself. Luca greets the others at the table but quickly turns back to you as the conversation goes on. 

“I was hoping to see you here,” he says. Your eyes are on his hand, holding his champagne flute as he sets it back on the table. Now you’re thinking about his hands on you, the slow unzipping of your dress, fingers dexterously unclasping your bra. You clear your throat.

“I’m living in Chicago again, it wasn’t much of a trip for me. I’m a little surprised you made the trek,” you respond.

“I had heard that. That you were back here.” He pauses. “I had to say goodbye to Ever. There’s a lot of good memories here.” You feel a tingle down your back. It feels directed at you, his comment. But he has always had that power; to make it feel like you are the only other person in the room. 

“You’re right. A lot of good memories,” you reply with a smile.

He leans towards you a little closer. "You're beautiful," he says, voice low in your ear. Your cheeks warm. He pulls away a little and says, voice lighter as if to soften his statement, "I like your dress."

Before you can think of a response, Andrea stands up and gives a toast to the guests, her friends, and the restaurant. By the end, you feel tears in your eyes and blink them away, embarrassed. It is the end of an era, after all. It feels big. And final. You take in a breath as you feel Luca squeeze your hand gently in his own. You twine your fingers together and squeeze back. The moment has distracted you and the tears dry up. 

As the meal concludes, you follow Luca into the kitchen and hop up on your old station. Sitting on the stainless steel table feels nostalgic. He leans against the table by your side and pours more champagne in your glass. Going on three glasses of champagne has settled your nerves and you and Luca are laughing as you talk about the last few years. You ask about Copenhagen, about his time training with Marcus, the pastry chef at The Bear. He asks about your time in Chicago. 

You take a drink and set your glass down next to you. “Do you remember when I sliced my hand open at this station?” you ask, legs swinging slowly. You hold your palm out in front of you. “I think that was the worst cut I’ve ever given myself. I can still see the scar.”

“Of course I remember. It wouldn’t stop bleeding and you just kept wrapping it up in gauze and plasters instead of going to the emergency room.” He shakes his head and reaches over to hold your hand between his, thumb softly tracing the line of scarred tissue on your hand. He steps away from the bench so he can stand directly in front of you. You watch as he lifts your hand and presses a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. Your heart skips a beat as he looks up from your palm and into your eyes. 

“I missed you,” you admit, softly, his hands tightening around your own. 

“I missed you too.” His voice is heavy as he leans closer to you. He reaches out with one of his hands and brushes your hair away from your face, palm warm against your cheek. So gentle. Your eyes close as he leans closer. 

You hear Syd’s voice echo from the hall, “After party at my place! Just down the block.”

You open your eyes to see that Luca has pulled away a little. After a moment he asks, “Should we go to the afterparty?” You nod but don’t move to get up.

Syd walks in and you are still a little too close to not raise suspicion. “After party,” she says, pointing her thumb behind her. 

“We’ll follow you!” you respond, sliding down from the table, Luca holding your hand until you have time to steady yourself on your feet. 

Syd shoots you a smile before walking back the way she came. 

“We should get back to this later though,” you say, biting your lip as he grins back at you. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and leads you out, following your group of friends to Syd’s apartment. 

---------------

It’s a fun– if not strange, little party. Some friends of Syd’s bring a keg, you eat cheap frozen pizzas prepared by one of your favorite chefs in the whole world. You dance with Syd and Luca and Andrea, and at one point Richie, the boisterous front of house from The Bear. The night is a blur of laughter and music. 

After a song ends, you head to the kitchen to get some water, sliding past Andrea who is slathering jam over Eggo waffles fresh out of the toaster. Luca follows a second later and you both sneak out the side door onto the back stairwell behind the house. As you step into the chilled air, you shiver. You turn back to face Luca and find him only a step away. His hand grips hot against your hip, urging you to move closer. Without thinking, you reach up and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug, your cheek against his chest. The music follows you outside, and Luca sways gently with you in his arms. You press yourself closer. 

He’s humming along, the sound reverberating through his chest. You remind yourself that he lives in Copenhagen. That he is just here for Ever. But even if it is just for one night, you want to make the most of it.

You pull away slightly and he loosens his hold. Before he can get too far, you press yourself up on your toes and he responds immediately. His lips press against yours soft at first, and then firm. You open your mouth for him and everything changes. 

His hands grip you tight, pulling you against his chest. He swallows your quiet whine of surprise as the kiss turns passionate. Every part of you is on fire. It’s better even then you remember. His rich, smoky scent makes you a little dizzy. You’re caught up in him. You gasp for breath as he pulls away. But it only lasts a second and then he is lifting you onto the railing, pressing himself against you fully. You feel the hard muscles of his arms as they hold you to him. You’re at a similar height now but he is standing between your legs, your skirt hiked up to your thighs. Your hand lowers from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the soft fabric. You grip the cloth and pull him even closer, goosebumps raise on your arms as you feel him groan into your mouth. Then his hands are everywhere, sliding from your hip to your thigh. His hand is hot against the bare skin cool in the night air. His other hand is tangling in your hair, tilting your face so he can kiss you exactly as he wants. 

He pulls back again after there is a loud clanging inside. Someone shouts something but it is followed by laughter. You catch your breath as you look at him. Some of your lip gloss is still on his lips. You can’t help but smile, reaching up to rub the shimmer off for him. He smiles against your thumb. 

“I’m going to be in Chicago for a few months,” he says, watching for your reaction. 

“Months?” 

He nods and suddenly it all feels different. You thought this couldn’t be more than one night. But he was staying for months. You realize you should say something but words escape you. “That’s good,” you blurt out. 

He smirks but you can see his cheeks turning pink. “Good, huh?”

You nod and pull his shirt to get him to stand closer to you again. “Really good.” 

He leans down and presses another kiss to your lips. “Really good,” he agrees.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Big Name Feelings

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

Length: 103,997 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Slow Burn, Fake Relationship, Pick-me-up

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

*Minor Spoilers* It's here! The finale of one of the most entertaining and immersive fanworks that I have ever experienced is finally upon us! I feel like most of you who follow me here are aware of this fanfic or have read it. However, for those who haven't or might come across this post later: I'm begging you to read this one. Buckle up; it's a long post today.

So, if you're not aware, this fanfic involves writer Crowley and fan artist Aziraphale. Crowley, being ace, seeks a boyfriend to shield him from unwanted attention during an upcoming convention. Aziraphale, smitten, agrees to be the fake boyfriend. This Arrangement is sure to work out exactly as planned!

Every one of the author's stories feels cinematic to me. The worlds are always so real and immersive, but this one, in particular, will have you feeling like you're actually watching the story unfold in real life. Some of that is achieved through embedded media like chats, artwork, and Tumblr posts, bringing a sense of reality to these conversations. The rest comes from really rich prose. You'll flow through it very easily, yet deeply.

The use of fandom and a convention as the backdrop for this fic was, to be honest, genius. I've seen attempts before, but none captured the spirit quite like this one. The fandom lore for The Nice and Accurate Prophecy (the in-universe fandom they're in) was rich enough for us to fully grasp the shape and feel of why they loved it so much, yet it never impedes the ongoing story. This story perfectly captured what it's like to be a fan: how friendships develop, how ideas and fan theories are freely discussed, the passion for a shared topic. The con, in particular, will fill anyone who has ever attended a fan convention with a strong dose of nostalgia and love. Oh, and having them in their 50s? Thank you! There is no age limit to fandom!

Having Aziraphale as the artist and Crowley the writer was not the most obvious choice, but it's one that worked amazingly well for the story! Crowley struggles with words and expressing his feelings in real life. However, in stories, he can build his own world and express whatever emotions are on his mind. Aziraphale, who does not wish to draw attention to himself in real life, expresses himself through his bold and beautiful artwork. His specialization in traditional, physical artwork is so fitting for him, though he's not unwilling to try new tech. There is a scene where they stumble upon some street art that Aziraphale had done. I teared up at that scene, and it's not even angsty! Just the casualness of it, how it's not Aziraphale but Crowley who boldly leads them to it, how Aziraphale doesn't sing his own praises. He's not self-deprecating, but he doesn't celebrate his work. He's still learning that he has value that's worth celebrating. At least now he has Crowley to teach him to be proud of himself.

They are both beautifully written characters. It's a real testament to the skill of the author to bring these characters into such a different reality and have them be unmistakably Aziraphale and Crowley. Sure, they're updated for the time and setting, but their souls are still the angel and demon we know and love. This setting is an amazing way to explore the different sides of their personalities. Crowley's asexuality, in particular, was one of the best depictions I've ever read. It brought a new level of understanding to me, and I'm sure many of you will feel a kinship with him. Really pay attention to what's being said here, there's some really deep and insightful passages that are worth analyzing. Like this moment, which may have been a subconscious thought, but again speaks to how deeply the author understands the characters.

This was such an amazing experience as a fan. I've never had a fic feel like this much of an event before. Every chapter drop was so exciting; I never knew what exactly to expect. And now, with the end being over 100k words?? Where did that word count come from! That's insane! I'm sad to leave this iteration, but I'm so excited for what's to come next. So please, if you haven't read this, give it a try. It's such a impressive work, so much time and effort was put into this and you can tell. It's not only a love letter to Good Omens, but one to fandom and fanspaces as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this journey

There are some explicit scenes towards the end, but they are all marked and skippable, so I'd say you're perfectly fine reading this in public.

Edit from after actually seeing the finale: no I’m not tearing up it’s just really dusty in this room. I’m being so normal rn 🥹🥹🥹

Read it here, fic by ghostrat