#and how definitely important he is for the journalistic world

[nateriverswife]

How did the task force/Light handle Coil and Deneuve? Or did they just forget about them and they vanished into obscurity?

#Is this another plothole lmao #Wouldn't seeing L and the other two stop being so active make some eyebrows raise #I hate how focused is on Light that it forgets the whole empire L created #and I hate how Ohba forgets that L isn't the only detective in the world #and how definitely important he is for the journalistic world #like don't tell me there aren't L copycats #people that look up at him and follow every move of his #or don't tell me that there isn't a specific sector of news that only focuses on L #It would be unrealistic #(slight spoiler for two of my fics tbh but oh well) #death note #l lawliet #dn.L #light yagami #task force #soichiro yagami #touta matsuda #aizawa shuichi

[sayruq]

Last week, Politico reported that President Joe Biden would “consider” conditioning military aid to Israel if the country launches a large-scale invasion of Rafah, where more than a million Palestinians are sheltering. “It’s something he’s definitely thought about,” said one of the four anonymous US officials cited as a source. This was about as weak of a position as could be imagined: The President had definitely thought about maybe doing something. Still, even this proved too much. One day later, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan said the article was based on “uninformed speculation” by anonymous officials and that he wouldn’t be entertaining hypotheticals about how the US would respond to a major invasion of Rafah, which US officials have signaled they would accept in a more limited form. The dismissal was the latest indication of the administration’s almost complete unwillingness to even discuss imposing serious consequences on Israel for waging a war that has killed more than 30,000 people, most of whom were women and children. Instead, the administration has adopted a newfound feeling of impotence. As State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller put it last month, “The United States does not dictate to Israel what it must do, just as we don’t dictate to any country what it must do.” The absurdity of this position was made clear when a reporter interjected, “Unless you invade them.” Miller couldn’t help but laugh. It has been obvious for months that there are many things the Biden administration can do to restrain Israel and distance itself from a war that has been condemned throughout the world. The problem has not been a lack of options but a lack of political will. Daniel Levy, a former Israeli peace negotiator who is now the president of the US/Middle East Project, told me, “I think many of us who had very low expectations of the US and of Biden have had a rude awakening as to how much lower the actual performance has been [compared] to even the lowest of low expectations.”

As evidence of how important US backing has been for Israel, Levy cited veteran Israeli journalist Yoav Limor, who wrote in Hebrew earlier this month that without “Biden’s support, Israel would long ago have been forced to stop the fighting in Gaza due to a shortage of weapons, while at the same time it would have been forced to deal with United Nations Security Council resolutions (and possibly sanctions) against it.” Still, Levy thought it might take weeks or months of sustained US pressure to compel Israel to change course. In any case, Biden is under no obligation to provide thousands of bombs to a country whose leader has consistently ignored him as Israel wages a brutal war that has leveled much of Gaza and caused children to die of starvation. “We need to stick to our own values,” Ford said. “If our values say, ‘Starving children is way beyond the pale,’ then we need to react to that and take stern action, whether or not it changes Israeli policy.”

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #genocide joe #butcher biden #genocide #gaza genocide #imperialism

[lucyrose191]

Oh oh, can you write a pt2 of your kimi raikkonen fic? The date 🥰

SPOKEN ADMIRATION| K.RÄIKKÖNEN

Author’s note; not too sure how I feel about this, it’s not my best work.

Pairing; Kimi Räikkönen x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary; Whilst the rest of the grid are out partying and celebrating Kimi and Y/N spend some time alone getting to know each other in his hotel room together

Warning; Implied age gap but not specified.

F1 Master List , Part 1

Y/N didn’t know if she understood Kimi correctly when he had invited her to his room for ‘a drink’. These days that could mean anything, if it was anyone else she’d assume they were asking her out as a sort of relaxed date to get to know each other but this was Kimi Raikkonen, possibly one of the hardest people in the world to understand.

Did he want to get to know her better?

She had never really payed much attention to men, she had most definitely been approached and asked out before but with a goal as ambitious as hers growing up she found it best to focus on racing rather than any other aspects of her life, racing was just more important to her.

She also wasn’t really a fan of how immature guys her age could be but Kimi wasn’t her age, their conversations had been pretty limited but she couldn’t deny that he was charming in his own way.

His ‘iciness’ had never deterred her in any way because she herself was like that too, in fact now that she thought about it she seemed to enjoy the press conferences much more when Kimi was there with her, their personalities, as blunt or ‘harsh’ as they could be, fit well together and she knew the journalists hated interviewing them together but Y/N found herself enjoying those interviews more than any others.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, she hadn’t put much effort in her outfit, she thought if she was simply going to be spending the evening with Kimi in his room then comfort was the way to go and settled on a jogger and hoodie set, even if Kimi did want it to be a sort of date she doubted he’d have put in much effort as well.

Her hair looked great though and she had minimal makeup on and deemed it enough for the night.

Arriving at his hotel room, her nerves had skyrocketed, something she wasn’t familiar with as she was usually confident but it seemed all that confidence had left her tonight.

Not wanting to stand in the hallway of the hotel all night, she knocked on the door, it only took a few seconds for him to answer.

She was taken by surprise.

He was wearing a grey top with matching sweats but it was the glasses on his face that had caught her attention.

He looked hot.

"I didn’t know you wore glasses," she commented lightly as she walked past him into his room, taking notice of how uncannily tidy it was, she didn’t imagine him as a near freak but he surely wouldn’t have cleaned his room just because she was coming, would he?

"Just at night," he shrugged, gesturing to his bed for bed to sit whilst he walked round the other side where there was a bottle of wine and two glasses waiting.

Y/N gave him a funny look. "Since when did you drink wine? I thought you were into the hard stuff."

Kimi looked at her before looking towards the floor as though trying to hide a smile knowing she was right. "You prefer wine," he simply stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/N stood for a moment and stared, letting his words sink in. "I do-but, well, I thought you invited me here to try and get me drunk? I was expecting whiskey and jäger bombs."

Kimi sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed, popping open the bottle of wine and filling the glasses half way. "I didn’t invite you here to get drunk," he muttered, turning himself around to hand over her glass before lying his body against the headboard, his own glass in hand resting against his stomach.

She took the glass and mimicked his movements, both lying next to each other as she thought about his words and what to say in return. "Why did you invite me here?" She eventually settled on asking, not really wanting to beat around the bush.

Kimi pursed his lips at her question, eyes trained on the ceiling as he tried to find the words, he couldn’t just blurt it out, that would be wrong.

Y/N turned her head and looked at him curiously, "Do you like me, like, are you attracted to me?" She asked bluntly.

She watched as a subtle pink tinge blossomed on his cheeks and tried to press down the smile that was trying to appear on her face.

"S’ppose so," he responded, his voice that usual Finnish gruff that seems to be more prominent when he tried to be nonchalant or brush a topic to the side.

"You suppose so?" Y/N asked, biting down on her bottom lip, feeling he mouth threatening to stretch wider into a smile.

She wanted to laugh when he simply shrugged in response, knowing that if this was going to go anywhere then it was up to her because getting this far was probably way out of his comfort zone and it seemed he was really trying. "Did you ask me here as a date?"

"It was just a thought- Sebastian thought it would be a good idea-"

"-This was Sebastian’s idea?" The smile fell from her face.

Kimi rubbed a palm over his face as he saw the look on her face, he raised the glass to his mouth and downed its entirety before sitting up and facing her properly.

"I wanted it, he pushed me. I’m glad he did. I hoped you’d be open to the idea but I know you aren’t interested in finding- I just thought-"

"You really aren’t good with words, are you?" Y/N smiled at him, finding his rambling quite adorable.

"You’re right though, I’m not really interested in finding someone, or well- I wasn’t but then you asked which took me by surprise and if you wanted to then I’d give it a go, us two. I’d rather keep it on the down low though, for now at least, until it’s something."

A half a smile had grown on Kimi’s face as Y/N had rambled, relief filling his chest at her words. He was honestly more than fine with keeping it quiet, whatever it was, it would be nice to figure out things without people prying and he wouldn’t want to be the cause of her receiving backlash.

He couldn’t give a shit about anything that’s said about him but Y/N has worked so hard to get to where she is and he didn’t want to affect that, besides he was planning on retiring in the next few year so after that then there’d really be no issue.

"Are you okay with that?" She asked, not knowing what his silence meant.

Kimi looked at her in the eye and nodded, revelling in the pure joy on her face.

"So, what does Kimi Räikkönen do when he’s not busy with his hobby?" Y/N tried to get to know him.

"Bwoah, I don’t know," he blew out a large puff of air as he thought before shrugging "Sleep."

Y/N rolled her eyes "Of course you do, that’s all I ever see you doing," she teased.

"I don’t want to talk about me, I want to know about you," he told her strongly which she relented to knowing that there was time for her to get to know him.

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Everything," he immediately responded as though he didn’t even need to think about it.

Y/N looked down to hide her smile before looking back up into his eyes that were sitting intently on her, his eyes held a soft gaze that she had never seen him have before; not realising that it actually appeared quite often whenever she was around.

"Well," she began. "When I was younger, I used to be quite bothered about what the boys in karting would say about me but then my dad told me that it was stupid that I even listened when I was easily beating them on the track and would be able to beat them with my fists too if he allowed me to, ever since then I just imagined myself punching everyone whenever they said something about me, I still do it now, the amount of times I’ve imagined punching Will Buxton in the face is ridiculous." She laughed melodically causing Kimi to smirk.

"My favourite colour is light blue, it has been since I was born because my parents got told I was a boy and had gotten me a blue stuffed rabbit that I still have to this day. I’ve always wanted to drive for RedBull because Sebastian drove for the team and he was my favourite driver, I loved how ruthless he was."

Kimi was never going to tell Sebastian that because if he found out the woman Kimi liked had seen Seb as an idol then the German would never let him live it down.

"Something you might not like is that I actually hate partying and getting drunk because I got alcohol poisoning as a teenager and I love that you’re always yourself in front of the cameras and show exactly who you are and where you’re here, to race, you couldn’t care less about the fame and I admire that."

As she finished speaking she looked him in the eyes, appreciating the thoughtful look on his face and the soft curve of his lips.

They simply stared at each other for a while, shoulders touching and wine glasses long forgotten, Y/N still half filled.

It was a subconscious move in the way Kimi’s face inched closer to hers, he hadn’t even noticed but she did and mimicked him until their noses were lightly brushing against each other.

Eventually, it was Y/N that inched forward and pressed her lips against his. She had never experienced a fluttering stomach from a kiss before, right now was a first. There were butterflies flying around crazily in her abdomen and every thought had disappeared, leaving her a cloudy mind.

When they pulled apart for air, they kept their bodies close, not really wanting to lose their connection entirely, both searching the others eyes for any sign of regret but pleasantly found none.

Kimi lifted an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, silently pulling her into his embrace.

Not much needed to be said between the two, there was now a clear unspoken agreement between the two that it was now the start of something that would potentially be great, if not the start of what could be their entire lives,

Both were looking forward to it, grateful that a simple night together could’ve made so much progress.

#formula one x you #f1 fanfiction #fluff #formula one x reader #formula one #iceman x reader #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen x reader #kr7 #iceman #motorsport #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[traveler-at-heart]

Game, Set, Match

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a professional tennis player, struggling to go back to the top and win the US Open. Reluctant at first, she allows a sports journalist into her life... and a bit more.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R - Ya know it, fluffy af.

A/N: I love tennis and this was basically written for me. But @canvascoloredin is also a fan and thought, ok well, let's post it, maybe someone else will enjoy :)

“Thirty all”

She’s catching up, do something.

“Forty, thirty”

“Deuce”

“Come on, Natasha” her sister yells from the box.

Advantage, Romanoff.

Game, set, match. Natasha Romanoff.

Everything that happens after is a blur. Natasha feels like she just played the final, but in reality, it’s just the first round.

“Way to go, darling” her mother compliments when she’s back in the locker rooms, but Fury is quickly behind, not holding back.

“Three sets against an amateur and you won because she got nervous and got a double fault. That’s not good” 

“I beat her, didn’t I?” Natasha averts her eyes, putting on her jacket to go to the press room.

“Barely” her trainer mumbles. 

Natasha’s heart beats fast as she sits in front of all the journalists. They were warned about the questions they could ask, but still. Natasha feels all eyes on her, judging her reaction and demeanor.

“Did you worry about losing control at the start of the third set?” a man in the front row asks.

“It was the defining moment of the game, so I felt like I had to push myself harder and control the rhythm of the match. Which obviously happened”

“How was it to go back after your break? Unlike other players, you didn’t participate in any tournaments between Wimbledon and this”

“I’ve been playing tennis all my life, really, so it doesn’t feel like a big deal to me. Just because I wasn’t playing to win titles doesn’t mean I didn’t train” 

Natasha hears Fury cough and has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Control your temper, he’s trying to say.

Well, maybe they shouldn’t ask stupid questions.

--

You’re sitting in the middle of the press room, eyes trained on Natasha. She’s looking anywhere but you. 

I guess this means she read my column.

The conference is coming to an end, so you raise your hand and the assistant points at you.

“We have time for one more” he concedes.

“That’s enough for today” Natasha shuts it down before you can ask. 

Yeah, she definitely read the article.

Natasha can’t wait to get out of there, thanking the press before sprinting out of the room. You consider following her, but a text from your boss stops you.

Go to LA Stadium, Wanda Maximoff just bageled some poor girl.

With a bit of luck, you’ll get an exclusive with Wanda.

--

The biggest crime of Shostakov

It was a Tuesday afternoon, well into the second week of Wimbledon, when the news broke out. Alexei Shostakov, retired tennis player, was arrested for fraud and tax evasion. While in custody, it was discovered Shostakov was in possession of drugs.

The famous Red Guardian, who once had won on that very same club, was now dragged away in a patrol car, stripped of his days of glory. For people who are well versed in the history of tennis, this doesn’t come as a complete shock. Shostakov was a notorious trouble maker, often breaking rackets, ripping his shirts open and getting expelled from a total of 15 matches during the entire run of his career.

No one seemed more affected by the news than his protegee and adoptive daughter, Natasha Romanoff. The favorite to win the world’s most important Grand Slam retired amid the breaking news. As a result, Wanda Maximoff’s path to the trophy was an easy one, taking the number 1 from Romanoff while she was at it.

If her career depends on Alexei’s ability to get back on his feet, Natasha Romanoff should retire now.

In her best form, Romanoff is stealthy, precise and absolutely lethal. Her movements reminisce those of a ballerina; one that gracefully dances across the court -doesn’t matter if it’s grass, clay or hard- to deliver blow after blow of brilliance. Natasha has raw talent, pure heart and an unbreakable spirit.

The biggest crime of Shostakov, is that he’s in the way of her greatness. Maybe it’s his ego or a compulsion to attach himself to a woman who has the capacity to break every record from the Open Era.

Whatever the reason, it’s clear she’s better off without him. For those of us who love this sport, and want Natasha to be the champion she was meant to be, this is an unique opportunity to watch her finally emerge from the shadows of the overbearing man.

The proverbial ball is in Romanoff’s court. In all her brilliance, the one thing Natasha rarely does is take risks.

It’s never too late to start.

--

“We’re finishing the second day of the US Open and we have some major upsets. Carol Danvers, number 3 in the world and only American in the top ten lost to Brit Peggy Carter” you say, holding the mic and looking at the camera.

“I understand there was some excitement on the man’s singles” you hear Maria say on your earpiece and you nod.

“Queens had a face off with Brooklyn today. Bucky Barnes defeated amateur Peter Parker, but get this! They played five sets, and Peter won every tiebreak. So it seems like we have some exciting new talent”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, for sure. Thanks for the report, Y/N!”

“A pleasure as usual, Maria. Greetings to everyone back on the studio” 

“And cut” Darcy, your producer says. You remove the earpiece and hand over the mic. As you turn around, you spot Natasha training. It’s obvious you’re staring when Darcy speaks.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you know? You wrote what a lot of people were thinking”

“Well, seems like she doesn’t wanna hear it”

“It’s fine. I mean, it would be better if we could get a quote from her or an interview but if she hates you that much we can get someone else to do it”

“Or, I could go and try to talk to her?”

“So you have a death wish!”

“Didn’t you just say I did nothing wrong?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’ll listen. I am also legally obligated to tell you that your health insurance doesn’t cover injuries caused by tennis balls. Or rackets”

“Very funny”

--

“Relax your wrist” Fury instructs once again and Natasha ignores him, as usual.

She hates the press, the interviews, the hoops she has to jump through just so she can play tennis. 

None of it is optional and she has to follow the rules, something Natasha is particularly bad at.

“If you want to move to the next round you’re gonna have to listen to me”

Does she really want to move to the next round? Is there a point to all of this? She had lost her number one ranking and people were focusing more on her private life than her career.

Fury spots you across the court and smiles. 

You nod your head towards the man and he sighs, defeated.

“Can you talk some sense into her?” 

“Can anyone?” you say and he pats you on the back, leaving the court. The sun is setting and people are going home, ready to return tomorrow to watch the next round of players. You greet Natasha but she ignores you.

“You owe me a question” you try to joke, as she keeps hitting the ball so hard you think her racket will break in half. 

“I know who you are and I’m not talking to you” 

She looks hot when she’s pissed.

You push those thoughts away.

“Natasha”

“No, you and I are not on a first name basis. Not after you wrote all that crap about me without knowing me” 

“I only spoke the truth” 

“That my career is doomed and I should retire?” she finally stops throwing balls across the court and turns to look at you.

“Oh, my God! You didn’t even read it, did you?”

“I don’t need to. I know what everyone's been saying ever since Alexei was arrested. I know he was unconventional, but he was my trainer. He was beside me through the good and bad” 

“I get it, ok? He’s your family. And your trainer. That’s never easy and I understand how it can be hard to see things objectively. But,  Natasha, you are great in spite of him, not because of him”

That makes her pause.

“Nick Fury came out of retirement to train you. That’s how talented you are!”

The redhead serves a couple of times, staying completely silent.

“I’m not talking to you” she reminds you. 

“You’re the best player out there, Natasha. And right now you’re the only thing getting in the way of your success” 

--

Morning comes and so does the next match. Natasha is looking out the window of the suite, as people come and go around the busy streets of the tennis center.

Fury steps in, immediately aware of her nervous energy. If he asks if she’s ready, she’ll probably rip his head off. So, talking about something different might be the way to go.

“Her father was also a sports journalist,” he says, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“Who?” 

“Y/N. Richard was a single parent, so he’d always bring her to the games, even as a baby. She behaved better than most people too” 

“Is he retired?” 

“Nope. Cancer. Four years ago” Fury sits in front of Natasha. “Didn’t expect her to follow his steps, but that girl really knows sports. She’s working with the local station, and also writes for Sports Illustrated”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Never hurts to have a couple of friends around,” he says, sipping from his glass.

“I’m not good at making friends” Natasha looks away.

“Yeah, I know. You’re good at tennis, so…” the man checks his watch and stands up. “Let’s kick some ass”

--

Natasha has to face Kate Bishop, currently ranked 24. Her game is the opposite of aggressive, but she’s famous for her impeccable aim. Natasha has to control the game from the start if she wants to win.

She serves first, and as she bounces the ball, preparing her stance, Fury’s words echo in her head. All the advice he has given her for the past months, advice that she has consistently ignored.

Then, as she throws the ball, her eyes meet yours. You’re sitting in the front row, leaning forward. 

In a split second, she makes a decision.

Natasha is ready to take risks.

She aims for the corner of the service box, hoping it will fall inside. Kate lunges forward, shocked at the speed of the ball.

“Ace” the umpire announces. “Fifteen love” 

Natasha sees you clapping and can hear Fury shouting “That’s it, you can do this, Romanoff”

And boy, does she deliver. Kate is running across the court. Natasha’s unforced errors are incredibly low. While the crowd usually loves long games, the redhead is a legend and they’re excited to see her prowess first hand. 

The game ends in 47 minutes, 6-3, 6-2.

Kate approaches the net and shakes Natasha’s hand.

“That was… incredible, Romanoff”

“Thank you, Kate” 

The kind words and the genuine admiration make Natasha relax instantly.

Of course, the crowd goes wild as the redhead lifts her arms, clapping and waving. 

She’s in such a good mood that she decides she’ll finally take your question. But as she enters the press room, you’re nowhere to be found. 

Still, she chats and even jokes around with the journalists present.

Once again, the entire family celebrates as if Natasha had already won the Grand Slam.

“Seestra, the crowd was going craaaazy, it was like a Taylor Swift concert” Yelena tells her excitedly as they eat. Natasha’s starving, so nervous about today that she didn’t even have breakfast.

They keep chatting, talking about strategy for the next game and wondering who will go against Natasha next. 

“Natalia, your father wants to talk to you” Melina interrupts, holding her phone.

“Why?” Natasha snaps, going back to her stoic self.

“He wants to congratulate you,” the woman insists.

“I’m not in the mood. Excuse me” she stands up, losing her appetite.

Out on the terrace, she watches people passing by, trying to think of anything else but Alexei.

Your words come back to her, and she starts to believe them.

You are great in spite of him.

“Hey, there you are!” you shout from the bottom of the stairs, waving. “Do you have a sec?”

Natasha nods, going down. 

“First of all, wow. Brava”

“You wanted something?” she rolls her eyes, but you notice she blushes lightly.

It’s quite the view, Natasha’s body covered in sweat from the physical exertion, her sculpted arms in full display.

That tennis outfit looks really good on her.

“Oh.. yeah. Do you, uh, have time to meet a fan? She’s a little girl and you’re her favorite player”

“Of course” 

“Awesome, come with me!” you take her by the hand.

Natasha tries to ignore the tingling feeling she gets as she’s dragged around the center. Some people recognise her, but you’re walking fast and they don’t have the chance to stop her for a picture.

“Hey, Ava!” you greet the little girl, who’s holding a big tennis ball and a black marker. “Natasha, meet Ava. She’s your number one fan” 

“Hi,” the girl says shyly. She’s about nine, her mother standing next to her and smiling.

“Hi, Ava. It’s so nice to meet you” Natasha greets. “How are you liking the tournament so far?” 

“Uh, it was great, and you were so awesome today!”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Would you like me to sign that?”

“Yes, please!” her arms shoot forward, anxiously. 

“What other players would you like to meet?” Natasha says, as she signs the ball.

“Maybe Peter Parker… We met Carol Danvers, Bucky Barnes and also, Wanda”

Yeah, Natasha didn’t miss the way Maximoff signed the ball. 

From the number 1 player to the number 1 fan. 

So pretentious.

“That’s nice,” Natasha says, handing the ball back.

“Alright, let’s take a picture” you pull out your phone. Natasha kneels to be closer to Ava, and then places her tennis hat on the girl’s head.

“You can have it” Natasha smiles and is surprised when she gets a very enthusiastic hug. Her mother has to practically drag her away from where you’re standing, Ava turning around every couple of steps to wave at Natasha.

“Thank you, Nat,” you say, smiling.

“It’s not a problem. I didn’t see you in today’s press conference”

“That’s because it’s my day off” you say, surprised that she noticed your absence.

“What about that thing?” she points at the badge hanging from your neck that reads Press.

“That’s how I get in for free, duh” 

“Sneaky” 

“I can be” you shrug your shoulders and then turn back to your phone. “Hey, so can I send this to your PR team for them to post it?” 

“You don’t have to” 

“Fine, I’ll post it on my feed and tag you. Alright, gotta go. Have to cheer for Bucky” you say, taking her hand one last time. “Once again, thank you. And congrats. You were fantastic”

“I owe you a question” she calls when you’re walking away.

“I’m saving it for when you win the championship” you wink and she smiles, scratching the side of her neck nervously.

Later that day, her phone is blasting with notifications.

“Almost one million likes, Natasha” Yelena shows her the picture you uploaded of her and Ava.

“Is that good or bad?” the redhead shrugs her shoulders and her sister rolls her eyes.

“You’re so uncool!” 

However, she knows enough about Instagram to find your profile, going through your feed. Most of the pictures are from different games, some hangout with friends, the most frequent ones being Barnes and a pro that plays for the Yankees, Sam Wilson.

She’s about to close the app when two things that are equally horrible happen.

First, she likes one of your pictures from two years ago.

Second, she gets a message.

OfficialWandaMaximoff: Congrats on your win today <3

--

Bucky just lost the second set and is down on the third one. You keep refreshing the feed as you wait next to other journalists for Wanda Maximoff. 

Of course she’s in the quarter finals, that’s hardly a shock. Everyone’s waiting for her to face Natasha in the finals. When it happens, you’re obviously rooting for Nat.

Speaking of which…

@SportsBrooklyn: Good luck tomorrow! 

@NatashaROfficial followed you back

@NatashaROfficial: Do you only use Instagram or can you text like a normal person?

@SportsBrooklyn: Oh, right, text you to the number I don’t have!

Wanda walks in that moment and you lock your phone. Her auburn hair is tied in a high ponytail, and she changed to her signature red windbreaker and black pants.

You’re busy taking notes when your phone pings again. To your surprise, Natasha actually gave you her phone number.

@NatashaROfficial: If you share it with anyone else I’ll choke you

@SportsBrooklyn: Kinky ;)

The press conference ends and you practically sprint out to see if you can catch the rest of Bucky’s game.

You have to settle for the screens on the Champions Bar, comforted by the fact that Bucky seems to be ahead on the third set. As soon as he wins it, you stand up, knowing the break is the perfect time to slip into the player’s box.

“I’m so sorry” you say as you crash into none other than Wanda Maximoff. She grabs your arm to steady herself, smiling to ease you.

“That’s alright. You’re in a hurry?” she says, turning at the screen. 

“A bit, yeah” 

“I wish someone as cute as you was rooting for me” she smiles, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s flirting? Oh boy. “I noticed you looking at your phone during the press conference. Barnes is a lucky guy” 

“Oh, we’re not…” 

“Here I was thinking he was smarter than that”

There’s a sense of urgency to go before the break is over, but you’re also completely confused. Why is Wanda Maximoff taking an interest in a local reporter? You’re vaguely aware that her eyes drift somewhere behind you from time to time, but before you can turn and have a look, she pulls your press badge and smiles.

“If you ever want an exclusive, just let me know, Y/N…” she reads the name from your press badge and walks away, leaving you completely confused.

--

Natasha watches the entire interaction from her small table. She needed a break so she decided to put on a hat and glasses, to get a drink without being recognised.

Wanda was all over you, giggling and looking Natasha’s way as much as she could, to let her know this was entirely to upset her.

All Natasha wanted to do was stand up and take you away from Wanda. You were too good for someone like Maximoff.

Wanda thought she was making Natasha jealous. 

She was right, but not in the way she would have wanted to.

--

“Maybe it’s time I retire” 

“You’re 28” 

“Might as well be 100 in tennis years” 

“Buck” you nudge him.

You’re looking out the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to cheer up your best friend after losing in the round of 16.

“You won the Australian Open this year” 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. See? I’m senile” he mumbles, still grumpy.

“You did great, and you’re still in the top five, Grumpa. Ha! See what I did there?” he rolls his eyes and you smile, pulling him back to the street. “Come on, Sam is waiting for us to have some lunch” 

“Ok, but it’s on you because I’ll be broke once I retire” 

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes, looping your arms together and dragging him to your favorite dinner. Sam’s already there, chatting around with everyone that recognises him.

All eyes turn to you as he stands up and practically shouts.

“How’s my favorite girl?” Sam greets you and then slaps Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t make that face, man. You won the aussie one”

“That’s what I told him” 

Bucky takes his jacket off and orders a beer as soon as the waiter approaches you; even if it’s only noon, you let it slide.

You get a text from Darcy, asking if you’re watching the game.

Your mind instantly goes to Natasha. Did she lose? No, that can’t be. She was playing against Van Dyne, who was only there because of a wild card. You turn to one of the screens and ask the waiter to change the channel. 

“She’s winning” you say, still not understanding what Darcy meant.

“Why does she look so upset, then?” Sam points out.

Natasha is arguing with the umpire. You recognise him immediately.

“I hate that guy,” Bucky says, echoing your thoughts.

“Jarvis… something. Stone?” 

“Yeah, a total asshole. Wouldn’t give me a point I clearly won on Wimbledon because the other player was also a Brit” 

The argument ends and she keeps playing. Her forehand is killer today.

“Wow” Bucky says at the same time as you gasp.

“Man, I feel so dumb right now” Sam is looking between both of you, not knowing what caused your reaction.

“Just now? It’s more like, always” Bucky teases and Sam glares. He rolls his eyes and points at the screen. “Van Dyne hit after a double bounce. That’s not allowed. But Stone clearly doesn’t give a shit. He’s giving her the point”

“Natasha stopped playing because she saw it. He claims he didn’t so in his mind, she lost this one” you keep explaining.

“If Hope had a little bit of integrity, she’d concede the point or play it again”

“Well, she’s losing so she’ll take all the help she can get” you say. 

Natasha’s rage fuels her after this and she ends up winning, the second set a devastating 6-0.

However, the two men on the screen are being unsurprisingly critical of her. Your stomach turns when you hear the words “emotional” and “aggressive” thrown around.

Even if it’s a long shot, you try calling her. Phone’s off.

If you’re lucky, you’ll manage to see her once you get back to the stadium.

--

“Turn it off,” Natasha grumbles. Fury is watching the news in the living room. 

“I wanna see the highlights of other players. Prepare for what’s coming next. If you don’t like it, leave the room” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

After the game, Natasha did the mandatory press conference, went back to the lockers, destroyed two rackets, took a shower and then looked out the window for the better part of the day. 

She wasn’t in the mood to do anything and she didn’t want to turn on her phone. The temptation to read what the press and public had to say about her after today’s argument with the umpire was too big.

“Y/N, how are things at the US Open?” Maria Hill says. The screen splits, your image appearing on the right side.

“Exciting names on both sides for the semis. We have Thor against Banner, and T'Challa faces Namor for a spot in the semis. As for the ladies, Maximoff breezed through the match against Jean Gray”

“Well, I understand Romanoff didn’t have it so easy,” Maria says. 

From her seat, Natasha holds her breath. Yelena walks in at that exact moment, watching her sister closely.

“You know, I find it unbelievable that an umpire at the US Open could make such a poor call, not once but twice. First, with the hindrance call against Natasha and then by completely ignoring the double bounce before Van Dyne hit the ball” you say, clearly upset. “We’ve seen time and time again that some umpires are not up to the standards set by Grand Slams. And to my fellow journalists who like to throw around words like emotional, better save that energy for the men that smash their rackets just because they lost a point. As we all saw, Romanoff was in her right to demand fairness and she did it with the utmost respect” 

“Yes, I completely agree with you” Maria nods, clearly regretting even asking about it. “Well, let us chat tomorrow after we have the final for the men” 

“Of course, Maria,” you nod.

Natasha tries really hard, but she can’t help but smile at your words.

Yelena arches her eyebrows.

Well, this is interesting.

--

Natasha refuses to leave her room, arguing she’s not hungry. Melina, Yelena and Fury leave her alone, but the sudden silence becomes too much. There’s no noise to stop her thoughts from spiraling.

With a sigh, she turns on her phone. Two messages come through.

Y/N: Sorry about today. That umpire sucks :( 

Y/N: Bucky hates him too

Next thing she sees is a picture of Bucky and you holding your middle fingers to the screen with Jarvis’ face. Natasha chuckles at that.

She also zooms in, checking that your other hand is very close to Bucky’s. She feels a pang of jealousy that is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Room service” a strange voice says.

“I didn’t order any..:” she says, but finds you smiling on the other side of the door.

“Gotcha” 

“What are you doing here?” the redhead can’t help but smile. You’re wearing a black leather jacket, a white tee and skin tight jeans. She’s torn between admiring your figure and paying attention to what you say next.

“Little bird told me you were very upset and you might need a distraction” 

“I’m gonna kill Fury” 

“Not Nick. Your sister. And are we gonna find something to eat by standing here or…?”

“I’m not hungry” 

“We’re going, Natasha. Go get changed” you push past her, tired of waiting around in the hallway. She’s taken aback by your forwardness. Her mother and sister would usually let her get away with anything.

“Where are we going?” she asks, hoping you won’t go all the way to her room and pick an outfit for her.

“Something casual will do” 

She changes as fast as she can, taking her phone and some money with her. You nod approvingly and then open the door, peeking around the hallway.

“This little field trip is not Fury approved so let’s be discreet about it” you inform her, taking her hand to lead the way to the elevator.

“Oh, yeah, this is super discreet” Natasha complains as you lead her to an electrical carriage. 

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” you climb up, offering your hand. She takes and sits next to you. Natasha resists the urge to put a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean forward to give the address.

You feel her eyes on you, so you turn back, smiling and blushing lightly. 

It’s a short ride, and soon after you enter a small diner.

“Hey, Y/N” the owner greets you. “My, this must be a special occasion” she leans towards Natasha and whispers. “She’s never brought a girl over”

“Ok, Pat! Natasha is just a friend” you clarify, blushing in the process. Natasha laughs at you.

“Why? She’s pretty. You need to start dating” Pat says, leaving two menus.

“Don’t bother” you stop Natasha as she starts reading it. “She’ll bring us whatever she wants. But it will be worth it, I promise”

“Do you come here often?”

“My dad couldn’t cook if his life depended on it. But he was always good at finding the best spots to eat. So we came here all the time during the US Open and then later when Bucky started training”

Natasha nods and looks away. 

“So, you’re not dating Barnes either?” she says, looking anywhere but you. It’s embarrassing how much she cares.

“Uh.. no. He’s like a brother to me. His parents worked a lot so he’d tag along to games with us, and we grew up together” you wait until she turns to look at you. “Can I ask now?”

“Is this off the record?”

“Do you see my press badge anywhere?”

“One never knows with you people”

“Ouch, Natasha” the redhead laughs but you ask anyway. “Are you dating anyone? You’ve never been public about it”

“I’m not, no. I just don’t think I’d be able to find the balance. Between tennis and a partner. And my public and private life”

“Fair enough” you say. Pat approaches with milkshakes, cheeseburgers and fries.

“I hope you girls are hungry”

“Starving” 

“Fury’s gonna kill me” Natasha sighs, but then dips a fry in the milkshake and practically moans at the taste.

Your mouth is hanging wide open, and your teeth clash at how fast you shut it when Natasha turns to you.

“You’re right, this is worth it”

The rest of the night is spent eating and talking about everything but tennis. You learn that Natasha likes to bake in her free time, and that Yelena is taking a sabbatical before moving to New York to study at NYU.

After finishing your food, you both agree that walking back will be the best idea. 

“I’m so full” you complain as you enter through the back, too scared to be caught by Fury. Natasha walks in the opposite direction of the foyer. “Uh, what are you doing? I don’t want your coach all over my ass if you’re missing” 

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” she echoes your words from before and you have no choice but to follow her. You end up on a tennis court, balls scattered around the floor.

“Do you practice here?”

“If I can’t sleep” Natasha picks up a ball and a racket and hands it to you.

“Can I help you?”

“Play with me”

“I can’t even serve, Natasha”

“Well, would you like to learn?” she says with a smirk and you can’t resist it.

“Fine. But after that, you go back to your room”

“Stance first” Natasha instructs. She corrects your posture and movements a couple of times, inching closer until she’s whispering instructions in your ear. The last thing she does is put her hands over yours to make sure your grip is tight. “Show me what you got”

She steps away and you miss her presence instantly. Trying to remember everything she told you, you toss the ball in the air and swing a little too hard. You trip over your own feet, but Natasha moves forward and catches you before you fall.

“You ok?” she says and you nod.

“How did I do, coach?” you steady yourself, holding her close to you. Your eyes travel to her lips, and you’re both out of breath from laughing.

Neither one can tell who leans first, but the fact is that you do and you discover, with great pleasure and no surprise, that Natasha is an excellent kisser. Her lips are soft against yours and she pulls you closer by your waist.

“Is this a new way of interviewing people, Y/L/N?” 

Oh, shit.

You break apart and turn to Fury, who looks very much not impressed.

“The only cardio you’re allowed to do until this slam is over is at the gym, Romanoff. Back to your room, now” 

“I’m not a little girl you can boss around,” Natasha protests.

“Come on, you should rest. We’ll talk later” you don’t want her to start arguing with Fury, not now that she’s finally listening to him. Natasha turns to you and nods, squeezing your hand one last time before going back to the hotel.

“I don’t want her distracted,” Fury says and you nod. 

“I wasn’t trying to… I won’t get in her way, Nick. I want her to win”

“Glad we understand each other. Now go home” 

He turns to leave and you wait for a little bit, trying to calm down after a mindblowing kiss. As you’re about to leave, you spot a yellow bracelet on the ground. You’ve seen Natasha wearing one before, but you’re too scared of Fury to go back now.

Tomorrow will be a new day for all of you.

--

“Keep your leg behind the ball” Fury instructs. Natasha has been listening to every single thing he says.

Yes, she’s nervous about the semis. And Fury’s the only one that can understand the feeling or help her play better.

“I want you focused,” he says as she walks to dry her hands.

“I am”

“You know what I mean” he says and as if on cue, you walk up to the court, waving. Natasha places the racket down and approaches you. “Practice isn’t over, Romanoff!”

“Five minutes” she asks, meeting you on the edge of the court.

“Hi”

“Hi” she says back. Her eyes go down to your lips and your heart flutters.

“Uh, you left… I think this is yours” you remember to speak, showing the yellow bracelet.

“Yes, thank you. Do you mind?” Natasha extends her hand and you put it around her wrist. “Yelena gave it to me before my first match. It’s my lucky charm”

“Well, good thing I saw it”

“Maybe you’ll be my next lucky charm”

“Oh? Am I supposed to be at every game from now on?” you smile, nodding when you’re done with the bracelet.

“I really wanna kiss you” Natasha blurts out and you blush. “But…”

“There are people watching and Fury doesn’t look happy either”

“He never does. Can I call you later?”

“Yes, you definitely can”

You want to kiss her so bad, damn it.

“Come on, go back, before Fury kicks me out of the court”

Natasha nods, squeezing your hand gently.

The way Natasha looks at you makes you all kinds of flustered, so you leave in a hurry before your desire takes over and you end up kissing her in front of all these people.

Once again, you run into Wanda Maximoff, only this time she doesn’t smile at all.

“She’s quite the player, right?” she says with a cold voice, her accent a bit thicker.

“Uh- yes. Natasha is a very talented pro”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant” she takes a step forward and looks you up and down. “Natasha likes to fuck around. But she always comes back to me”

“You’re… together?” your heart drops. Natasha wouldn’t lie to you about this.

Would she?

“Look, of course she wants to get distracted and she’ll use anyone that is dumb enough to fall for it. But don’t forget, she and I have history. And that’s stronger than whatever it is you think you have with Natasha”

No one is around to save you from this horrible conversation. You don’t want to argue with Wanda, because you’re still a journalist and it’s your job to be on the players’ good side.

But the reckless part of you wants to tell her to fuck off.

You sigh and look down. Wanda takes this as a sign of defeat and smiles, leaving you standing there.

It takes a minute for you to snap out of it, and you look around, desperate to walk away from everything that just happened.

—

“You’re seriously telling me you know nothing?” you ask Bucky for the tenth time.

“I don’t pay attention to rumors” he shrugs his shoulders, and you roll your eyes at him.

He’s sitting on your couch, the movie long forgotten. You nudge him with your foot and glare.

“Your best friend is a journalist, you should know better. You’re my insider into this crap”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m just not on the loop of who dates who on the women’s side. But I am not surprised Wanda scared you. Heard she can be batshit crazy”

“She didn’t scare me” you mumble. The both of you sit in silence for a while, until your phones ping simultaneuosly.

Thankfully, it’s not Nat. Right now, you don’t even know what to say to her.

“Sam. Probably to brag about his date in that fancy restaurant” Bucky tells you, but his eyes widen as he reads the message. “Wow. You need to look at this”

He hands you the phone and you read the conversation. It’s your group chat and Sam just sent a picture of Jarvis Stone, who is having dinner with none other than Wanda Maximoff.

“What the actual fu…”

“So that’s why he was being a dick to Natasha” Bucky says. “You’re not telling her about this, are you?”

“No, of course not. She has the semis tomorrow and I don’t want to distract her”

You look at your phone and press send before you chicken out.

Y/N: Can we talk tomorrow?

YBelova: Sure

—

You’re waiting by the entrance to Arthur Ashe, looking around.  Even if Maximoff’s match is later, you are still dreading to spot Wanda.

“Hey” Yelena says and you jump like a coward. “Wow, relax, it’s me”

“I’m sorry to be meeting you like this. I didn’t want to bother Natasha, especially today… she has enough on her plate”

“It’s ok, you can trust me”

“I know I can… it’s not easy to ask this, but do you know if Wanda and Natasha had a… thing? Like a relationship”

“Are you asking as a journalist?” the blonde says, clearly on edge.

“No, it’s not like that! Natasha and I… we kissed. And then Wanda told me yesterday that Natasha is just fooling around because she always comes back to her… and that’s weird but then a friend sent me this. It’s from last night”

“That’s the umpire that was a jerk to Tasha” Yelena takes your phone, looking at it in desbelief. “That bitch is still pulling this shit”

“If it had been only about us, I would have waited until Natasha finished her match. But it seems to me, like Wanda is trying to play dirty here”

Yelena sighs and hands the phone back. She looks around and steps closer, lowering her voice.

“Yes, they dated. Kept it a secret. It was on and off, especially when they were playing against each other. Wanda didn’t like to lose and then, after a while, she began to mess around with Nat. She would have a fight with her before a big match, even if they weren’t playing each other. Made Natasha lose her cool and struggle. They really haven’t spoken since the AO”

“What do we do? I don’t want her to mess with Natasha. I won’t let Wanda get in her way”

“I’ll speak to Fury about this. He knows everything. I’ll let you know what he says”

“Didn’t know you two were friends now”

A voice calls from behind you.

“Seestra, hey!” Yelena steps forward to give you time to recover. “Y/N was just telling me about her time at NYU”

“Is that so?” the redhead looks between you two and you nod.

She stills makes you nervous and flustered.

“Alright, my presence is no longer required” Yelena complains, but still gives you a meaningful look as she walks away.

“I have to warm up, will you stay for the game?” she asks, stepping closer.

“Yes, of course I will. I’ll be screaming your name” you blurt out and then blush. “I mean, rooting for you. Didn’t mean it to sound like that”

“Sounds good to me” she says, coming closer. “Can I have a good luck kiss?”

You look at her smile, her beautiful green eyes. Think about all the times she’s been kind and funny and brave. And you also think about how someone played with her heart just for a stupid title.

So you nod and lean forward, kissing her gently.

Natasha deserves to win, not only because she’s the better player. She’s the better person.

“Go win this thing” you say against her lips and she smiles, pecking your lips one last time.

—

Natasha’s win is not a surprise to you, considering the level of her recent games. You still have to stick around for the Maximoff match, opting to stay far away from the press room once she wins.

So, it’s down to the two of them in the final.

You’ve never wished for Natasha to win something so much until today.

Work keeps you busy enough. Both of the men’s semis take a combined time of eight hours and you end up completely exhausted, seriously considering just sleeping in one of the locker rooms.

You haven’t heard from Natasha but it’s understandable. She’s playing for the championship tomorrow, and knowing Fury, he will be preparing her in every way possible.

As you get a cup of coffee from one of the last stands open, your phone pings again.

Natasha: Are you still here?

Y/N: Yes :(

Natasha: Meet me in court 17?

Y/N: Yes :)

When you finally get there, you find Natasha serving a couple of times, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Is Fury ok with you staying up so late?”

“I did everything he said today. I think I deserve this one thing” she smiles, walking towards you. “You look a bit tired”

“Jeez, thanks”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Ugh, Yelena is right, I have no game off court”

You laugh at that, taking her hands in yours.

“It’s fine, I was just teasing you” you say, looking as her eyes drift towards your lips. You both lean forward, sharing a kiss.

“Thank you” Natasha says.

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

“I don’t mean the kiss, no. Thank you for telling Yelena that thing about… Wanda”

“Oh”

Natasha walks with you to one of the chairs and you sit together.

“I haven’t spoken to her in months. And I don’t want to be with her. I need you to know that”

“But still… you said you’re not sure you want a relationship, right? It would be too much trouble”

“I think it might be worth the effort for you” she confesses and you smile.

“You do have game”

“I do?”

“Tiny bit. We’ll work on it”

She laughs, and you sit in silence for a moment.

“I made my debut in this court”

“I know”

“How…?”

You sigh. Since you’re sharing stories…

“After my dad died, I kinda took distance from the things we did together. That included all kinds of sports. It was a painful reminder. And then, as the USO was starting, I realised he had already bought our tickets. So I came here, walked around a bit. And then I saw you”

Natasha smiles, squeezing your hand.

“Your hair was shorter, and you were wearing a weird orange top with green shorts” you frown as you remember how awful it looked.

“My mom chose it for me!” the redhead buries her face in her hands and you laugh. You take them in yours as you continue the story.

“You were amazing that day. Controlled, precise… I forgot for a little while about how sad I was. And after you won, I came back everyday to watch you play”

“Thank you for telling me that. I wish I could have known your father”

“I would have liked that too”

There’s silence as you both think about your own journies, the things that brought you to this moment.

“Come on, we should go. You need your rest” you stand up, offering your hand to Natasha. She thinks for a moment before taking it, but instead of standing up she pulls you down until you’re sitting on her lap, your legs around her.

“Nat?” you gulp, blushing at how close you are.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop” she whispers, kissing your neck and squeezing your ass.

“Holy shit, no, don’t stop” you plead, tangling your fingers in her red hair.

“Locker room?”

“Lead the way” you kiss her frantically, hoping no one sees you.

Once you arrive there, Natasha smiles and your heart stops for a second.

“Ready to scream my name?”

—

There’s warmth. And a nice pressure. Some tingling on your back. Like a soft touch.

You open your eyes in an unknown room, trying to remember where you are. As you turn around you find Natasha fast asleep, her arm around your middle.

“Nat?” you call for her, hoping no one walks in any time soon.

“Five more minutes” she mumbles against your skin.

“Nat, wake up” you plead.

As it turns out, she only reacts when Yelena kicks the door, walking in on you naked under the sheets.

“Happy finals day seestra—-ah! Naked”

“Yelena what is wrong?” to your horror, Melina joins her daughter. “Oh, you two lovebirds!”

“WHY DOESNT ANYONE KNOCK HERE” Natasha screams, putting the sheets above her head.

“Sorry”  Melina says, dragging away Yelena.

“Yeah, sorry” Yelena echoes, sounding anything but.

As you both get dressed, the memories of last night come back to you.

After your rendezvous -and almost getting caught by security- you decided it would be better to continue elsewhere. You blush as images of Natasha moaning, kissing and pleasuring you also come back.

“Hey” she approaches you as you walk to the door. “You ok? You look a little…”

“Flustered?” you say, trying to hide your blush.

“Well, yes. I’m sorry about them walking in”

“Last night was… amazing”

“Yeah?” she circles your waist with her hands and pulls you closer. “How amazing?”

“Like winning all Grand Slams in the same year kind of amazing” your hands go around her neck and you pull her for a kiss.

“Wow, that’s big talk” Natasha comments agains your lips. And as she’s about to kiss you, Fury walks in.

“Romanoff! What did I tell you about that cardio”

“For the love of God, knock!” Natasha says, defeated.

“Don’t worry, Fury, I promise she was laying down for the most part” you wink at the man.

“Stay for breakfast” Melina invites as she’s setting the suite’s table with all the room service.

“This has been sufficiently awkward, thank you. And I also imagine you have stuff to do”

“You need to stay hydrated. How much liquid did you lose?” Fury says, going around the kitchen like a headless chicken.

“Fury, I haven’t seen her this relaxed in months. My sister will be fine” Yelena comments.

“Are you coming to the game?”

“Of course. I’m on press duty”

“Come to the player’s box” Melina says.

“Would that be wise?” you ask and everyone shares a look. “What I mean is, we want to make Wanda think her plan worked, right? If she sees me there she’ll know we are on to her”

“I don’t care what she thinks. I want you there” Natasha takes your hand and you smile.

“Alright. I’ll be there. See you later” you kiss her cheek and smile.

“Byeee” Melina and Yelena say, and you realise that Natasha will have to deal with their questions.

Well, if she can deal with the press, she can deal with her family.

—

The day goes by in a blur, and as the match approaches, you feel more anxious. God, how does Natasha do this? If it were you with the world watching, you’d probably break down the minute you step into the court.

“Hello there” Yelena greets as you meet at the player’s entrance of Arthur Ashe.  “Ever been here?”

“Just once, with Bucky”

It’s hard to forget the luxurious facilities where players can get food, special gifts, some physio or workout before their matches.

“He won last year, right?”

“Yes” you smile at the memory. “How is Natasha doing?”

“She’s done with warmup, she had something light to eat and she seems ready. She’s also been smiling like an idiot all day, even if Fury kept her away from her phone”

“I want her to win, so whatever it takes” you smile at the blonde, and follow her to the lounge, where Natasha is waiting with Melina. The redhead smiles as soon as she spots you and you kiss her on the cheek.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a complete wreck”

“You got this. Remember she prefers short games, she also doesn’t like to volley or come close to the net. And people say her forehand is killer but she goes too far behind her back, so use it against her”

“Y/N?” she interrupts your rambling. “All of that is fine advice, but I already have Nick on my back 24/7”

“Right, sorry”

“You know what he doesn’t provide?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck kisses”

“That’s right, it’s above my paygrade” Fury says. “Say your goodbyes now”

Melina and Yelena hug her, Fury squeezes her shoulder and then they give you some space.

“Go win this thing” you say, leaning forward and kissing her softly.

Natasha leans her forehead against yours and smiles.

She’s ready.

—

Natasha comes out first, and the crowd goes wild.

Wanda is close behind her; you catch her staring at you, clearly shocked that you’re next to Nat’s family.

“Who’s losing focus now?” Yelena says with a cheerful voice and you can’t help but smile.

The game begins and it is very clear that Natasha is playing aggressively. She has an ace on every game and there are hardly any break points for Wanda. It’s been 30 minutes and the score is 5-2.

“She’s cooked,” Fury says, looking at Wanda. You shake your head.

“Maximoff has an insane record after losing the first set, you know that”

And in fact, she does lose the first set. As always, the crowd loves to cheer on the underdog, so they go wild when Wanda wins the first two games of the second set.

“Come on, Tasha” you scream, and she looks your way, smiling. In no time, they’re tied.

“What are the odds on a tiebreak?” Yelena asks.

“It can go either way” you sigh, confirming that it will happen as they reach 6-6.

Natasha is playing fast and hard, giving no time for Wanda to recover.

But as she serves for the match, Wanda challenges the call in the most disruptive way possible.

It was in, but since Nat stopped playing the point goes to Wanda.

“That’s bullshit” Yelena says under her breath and you nod.

Sure enough, Natasha zones out and goes from match point to losing the second set.

“Dear Lord” Fury says, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“Maximoff looks exhausted, Nick. Natasha is doing great. She didn’t give away the second set. She’ll do this”

The third set begins, the first four games a close call. Deuce is called when they’re tied at 2, and you know that whoever wins this point will end up winning the match.

Every time Wanda has an advantage, Natasha comes back and breaks. Even when the Sokovian is serving, it doesn’t stop Natasha from pulling her back to 40-40. The Russian is a wall, and Wanda seems to lose hope as time passes.

And then, it happens.

Wanda has a double fault that gives Natasha the advantage. Followed by a double fault that gives her a break.

“Yes” Fury claps, trying to keep it together.

As the score approaches 5, your heart beats faster. Once again, 5-2.

Natasha serving for the match.

An ace.

The crowd goes wild.

The second ball goes out of the court when Wanda hits it.

Then, a double fault.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s 30-15 and then 30-30. All Natasha needs are two more points to win.

She searches for your face in the crowd and you smile, nodding.

“You’re going to win” you say and she smiles.

Another ace.

The screens show the “championship point” sign.

Wanda doesn’t make it easy for her. She’s like a wounded animal that has nothing to lose, so she runs, she answers every throw with a groan, she comes to the net.

But when Natasha does her signature dropshot, Wanda tries to run, reaches too late and the ball bounces one, two, three times.

“Game, set, match, Romanoff”

“Fuck, YEEES” Yelena screams, standing up and cheering.

It’s all a blur, Natasha falling to the ground and covering her face. Walking to the net to shake Wanda’s hand, and then  the umpire’s.

After, she walks among the crowd, trying to reach her box. Yelena is the first to jump, their mother hugging them both and crying.

Fury looks like he’s about to cry as Natasha hugs him. You’re certainly crying happy tears as you watch them.

And then, she walks past him and picks you up from the ground, kissing you in front of the entire stadium.

“Congrats, Nat” you say against her lips.

“I’ll be right back” she promises when the security guard asks her to come back for the ceremony.

“You owe me a question”

“Save it for the next championship” she says against your lips and you kiss again, in spite of the guard’s insistence and with the crowd cheering you on.

—

It’s been six more slam titles, two years of tours around the world.

Natasha still owes you a question.

You’re saving it for a time when you’re both ready, and you’ll ask her to marry you.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff fic #Natasha Romanoff x you fluff

[dustymeadows-if]

Dust particles flow in the air, shimmering with golden light of the sun. They rise to the sky, equally golden and hazy. Your mind is empty. There is no single memory in your head. Only one thought is ringing in your brain.

You must walk forward. Walk until your feet begin to bleed. Walk until your shoes fall apart.

And for some reason you can't oppose this thought.

This is your road to Damascus.

Dusty Meadows is a short interactive story set in post-WW1 world. It's a small psychological adventure that will take you through the scarred European fields. Wander the abandoned trenches, scorched forests, poisonous valleys and silent, deadly no man's land.

You don't remember anything. The feelings, however, still linger. Feelings like pain, grief and bitter longing. Your body is mutilated, but you feel no physical pain. It's your soul that aches. It's as if an important piece of it was heartlessly ripped off. This pain urges you to go forward. The answers might lie just behind the next hill or river. Your life depends on returning. Returning your soul. Returning your memories. Returning your life. Returning home.

That is, if there's anything left for you to return to at all.

Customizable MC: choose your gender, appearance, personality and name (if you can remember it, of course).

Meet the cast of various charachters: you're not the only one wandering and seeking these desolate lands. Talk to other wayfaring souls, listen to their stories. Maybe even share the same road and experience strangely deep bond with some of them...

Return your memories: remove the shroud from your past. Remember how you got here. Remember what hides behind the scars on your body. But be wary: some memories are forgotten for a reason.

Explore different locations: travel through the remains of war, learn what happened there and remember what binds you to these places.

Maintain your sanity: nobody said that battlefields are safe even after the war. Your mind is as scarred as your body, and sometimes memories crash like tidal waves. Whether you'll hold the line or succumb to the dark depths - is up to you and you only.

Tired Infantryman - Basile (M)

This man could be a definition of word "apathy". Everything about him is grey: both literally and figuratively. Dressed in grey-bluish trenchcoat, covered in grey dust, he looks at you with dull grey eyes. Even in his dark brown hair you can see grey strands, although he's still pretty young. He doesn't seem to be interested in anything around him, except for his cigarettes. His left arm is missing, and you can't help but wonder what's the story behind this.

Frozen Operator - Johann (M)

He is... a weird man. Tall and muscular like someone working in the fields all day long. But at the same time his skin is the palest and the coldest you've ever seen, and his eyes are sunken as if he was spending many sleepless nights doing paperwork. He's also the only one without any visible wounds, which is very unusual to see in this place. Johann seems like a kind and outgoing man, but he hides something deep in his heart.

Blind Journalist - Gelsomina (F)

Upper half of her face is covered with bandages, but even so you can tell she's a very beautiful woman. Dark blood stains over the place where her eyes were never seem to fully dry. She is much alike that blood: restless almost to despair. This woman will either find peace or die, and the least seems to be most likely. Losing her eyes was a hard hit: she can't see, she can't write, she can't do her job which had always meant life for her. She lost every reason to live, but the fire of her stubbornness is blazing hard, keeping her alive and eating her from inside at the same time.

Wayward Nun - Jolan (F)

She is a strange sight. Dressed in nun robes which covers her whole body, she also wears a gas mask which she refuses to ever take off. This woman is like a walking fortress of her own, cutting off every direct contact with the outer world. She barely speaks, preferring simple gestures, or rather, not communicating at all. You don't know what she looks like, what she sounds like, but here's one thing you know for sure: guilt is seeping through every crack of her thick defense.

Demo - TBA

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #interact if #if wip #dashingdon #choice of games #hosted games #dusty meadows

[batsplat]

hello i saw in your tags that you don't think people on here get casey stoner and as someone relatively new into the sport i would love to hear your thoughts <3

(context here) okay first of all, this post will be framed as ‘things I wish people talked about more with regards to casey stoner’, rather than arguing against what I think people think

I've tried to come up with a concise response to this ask but kept heading into thesis-length territory. so I decided to write a bullet point list and it’s still… yeah… but well it could be worse. if you, dear anon, wish to read thousands of words of casey stoner lore then please let me know. otherwise, here are just a few things I find interesting about this bloke:

casey has a very complex relationship with the concept of confidence, both in other riders and himself, in the sense that he KNOWS how important it is but also believes/wishes that he specifically is kinda above all that

this feeds into how he wishes that racing were Just Racing and not all this other stuff… not his brain not his body not other racers being assholes on/off track not talking to journalists or doing photoshoots not having to deal with politics etc etc - central underlying tension of his career

he has openly spoken about not ever really enjoying race day, saying the only thing he's missed after retiring is qualifying. very perfectionist, the anxiety, the over-thinking, craving control… all key casey traits

(which also ties in with the valentino rivalry, because valentino obviously adores racing (in particular wheel-to-wheel battle) but he’s also great at all that other off-track stuff)

some very rigid ideas of How The Sport Should Look, which you can see in everything from how he talks about racing standards to the introduction of CRT riders (he had it OUT for them, head hot every time aleix espargaro shows up in parc fermé) to valentino’s influence on ducati and the importance of the colour red

let him have his mean streak! the grim satisfaction in discussing jorge’s 2008 injuries after his early-season arrogance towards casey, the dismissiveness towards dani, some of the wilder valentino remarks (this isn’t a criticism to be clear, alien-on-alien violence is part of the natural order of things)

casey is a classic case of ‘just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’. definitely a suspicious guy and perpetual underdog 'me against the world' mindset. not to get too psychoanalytic-y, but I reckon this was partly born out of how he had to leave australia as a teenager (with his family completely dependent on him succeeding) because of how the racing establishment down under fucked him over

they definitely were out to get him a lot of the time, cf yamaha and then ducati drama plus the slander from some of the greats of the sport, fellow riders, the media etc etc (particularly egregious in 2009 when he was dealing with his mystery illness and a lot of people said some pretty unpleasant stuff in his absence - here is just one example)

his struggles were constantly downplayed. the chronic fatigue misdiagnosed as lactose intolerance led to people calling him weak-minded, broken, running away from the sport (part of why he was so allergic to the idea his results might in any way be connected to what was going on in his head). add in the undiagnosed anxiety and you have all this invisible strife people wouldn't even take seriously

that being said, he definitely did have a propensity for jumping to the worst possible conclusions

two specific examples: firstly from his autobiography, where he makes the claim that valentino may have been sabotaged in the 2006 title decider and was deliberately given a rubbish tyre to make him lose the championship - to which casey’s response was: “welcome to my world, mate”. he does have a tendency to believe he’s being sabotaged, and is constantly on the look out for conspiracies even when they are… unlikely

the other example is mat oxley talking about his issues with casey in his stint working for ducati, partly based on a misunderstanding:

something allegedly written about him in 2001!

let’s just say he can definitely hold a grudge

the moaner stoner stuff was definitely nasty, calling him mopey and whiny and all of that, but he also has never shied away from some good old-fashioned complaining (some of this was a bit of a spiral - complaining for good reason worsening public perception of him leading to more reasons to complain)

see also the lingering marc grudge, who probably did play a significant part in getting casey kicked out of honda (as casey has accused him of). whether marquez prevented stoner from racing in 2015 is more of an open question. casey still speaks about how honda made a mistake by only listening to marc (which, again, does have some truth to it)

casey was always very quick to shut down the idea that momentum, motivation, confidence etc could affect his results (unlike that of his competitors) because he argues he was always very rational & clear-sighted about when things were his fault & when things could be blamed on the bike + extraneous factors. he really goes into detail about this when discussing 2008 laguna seca in his autobiography, which he argues had no effect on him psychologically (but was followed by him crashing out of the lead of the next two races)

has definitely spoken more about his rivalry with valentino than valentino has, which probably has also helped shape perception of it over time

on ‘ambition outweighed talent’ - I feel like people almost understate just what a (hilariously) out of pocket remark it was in context. it was rossi’s second ever race at ducati (and the start of his season was impacted by his shoulder issues) - and the rain meant he had a ~win it or bin it~ approach because he knew it was as good a chance as he might get for some time (despite starting from 12th). the move on stoner for second place was at best optimistic, most definitely impatient and at worst foolish - but sort of understandable in that situation, rossi was definitely rapid, and this stuff can happen in the wet. in that sense, it was obviously more a reaction to the manner of the apology (and his frustration with the stewards) than to what casey himself described as a racing incident

stoner made a remark in his autobiography about how rossi had stolen 25 points in a title battle he was never going to be a part of (oof). whether you're obligated to race title contenders differently is already a bit sketch but certainly should not be a consideration for anybody in round TWO

he was forced to publicly retract the remarks, though he doubled down on them to a deeply funny extent in his autobiography by suggesting they were true of valentino’s entire career and that he’d just benefited from a weak era. rossi mostly took it on the chin especially when interviewed about it for documentaries, probably because with something like that you do just need to take the L

it's understandable how it’s become such a defining image of their rivalry (along with laguna seca), not least because of how evocative the whole thing is - rossi showing up still wearing his helmet, trying to make a PR apology stick while he’s been eating nauseating amounts of humble pie at ducati; stoner casual as you like, pissed off about the points loss while still indulging in schadenfreude about how the Great Big Ducati Adventure is working out for rossi

but again, I think it’s funnier because of just HOW over the top an insult it was in that situation (and more broadly how it does have a different vibe to their interactions when they were meaningfully competing, aka 2007-2008)

in conclusion: casey has his doubts and his insecurities and his obsessions and his foibles… a complicated guy in his own right

and a big thing I’d like to stress here is that the rivalry with valentino does benefit from treating them both as somewhat unreliable narrators

I just think he's neat

#ty for giving me an excuse to be annoying at length about one of my number one guys!! #casey stoner #valentino rossi #motogp #// #cs27 #vr46 #lotsss of other stuff you can go into here. he gets a bit sanitised sometimes I feel which is kinda a shame #u can be justifiably resentful and still be very resentful. spite is still spiteful when it's deserved. same with the misanthropic streak #being called weak-minded really got to him imo - and the thing is he's clearly not (& good lord did some big names say some nasty things) #the autobiography feels almost an overcorrection and then you've got him recently talking more openly about his mental health #(even if not specifically about how it affected him competitively - which is obviously a related but not identical conversation) #it's an uplifting development in a way and it's nice seeing how much more comfortable in his skin he seems these days #but he is also a little bitch :)

[got-ticket-to-ride]

Wanted to know your thoughts on this, but for what I've reading on John it really looks to me he really got worse post Paul and post Beatles, like his saddest songs match the moment he started to have issues with Paul, he wasn't really having much contact with anyone outside Yoko, he wasn't doing much music, he wasn't being that funny either, he even died without being able to fully overcome his heroine addiction (addiction that started in the Beatles fall out right?), and idk i believe his involvement in the whole peace/art movement looked more like an escape (like some people do with religion) than actual interest.

So what you think, was John at his worst after he got out the band and cut his relationship with Paul or was it was always like that?

Hello @lord-pain

thank you for this ask! I hope I'll make sense. I think the White Album was definitely the start of John's "sad songs". Happiness is a Warm Gun, Yer Blues. Subsequently, Dig a Pony sounded so desperate to me and Because which is yeah, post India, post breakup?

There's so many different accounts during that period. Some narrators might be unreliable because you never know who these "historians/journalist/"acquaintances" have their allegiance to.

During the 70s it was said that John was miserable, became a violent drunk (who believed in astrology). He was quite unhappy with how things turned out in his life due to his choices but he was too proud to admit it.

About drugs, Fred Seaman said John stopped with heroin in the last half of the 70s in this video.

Due to differing accounts that are out there, I just concentrate on John, what he wrote lyrically and how clearheaded he was during his last interview. He was trying to be better. I think that is the most important detail despite everything that went down. Also the part where he was going to work with Ringo and had booked a studio with Paul for January 1981.

His activism was partly a distraction for him. Beatle John dabbled in it, but he became very aggressive about politics after the break up. He was anti-religion when he released Imagine (1971). But went back to believing in god when he wrote "Grow Old With Me" (1979?), which I have so much thoughts about but I haven't even had the courage to voice out.

While there are glimpses of John's mental anxiety visible in his song "Help!" (1965)

"Help me if you can, I'm feeling down, and I do appreciate you being 'round",

he was trying to be positive about it as seen in "Strawberry Fields Forever" (1966):

"It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out, It doesn't matter much to me".

And was still holding on during the conception of "Across the Universe" (in February 1968) with his mantra:

"Nothing's gonna change my world",

which I think might've been a result of Paul's engagement in December 1967 to Jane.

Across the Universe (February 1968) > believer God (1970) > anti-religion Imagine (1971) > anti-religion (he made a satire song which I did not include here) Grow Old With Me (1979) > believer

During his alleged break from music from 1975, he was still making home demos and was writing Skywriting by Word of Mouth.

I think John and Paul being apart was just not good for them. The general opinion was that Paul left John and had moved on. (I don't believe that's true). It was John who made the decision to leave, it was this push and pull thing, and Paul continued to reach out to him (and we don't know what happened during all those times they've met up). Some accounts say that John was practically begging for a reunion but then again Paul never stopped reaching out to John (see 1976) so I personally think, regardless of all these details that are out in the open, there is still a missing piece we have not considered yet and that can only be told by Paul himself.

To summarize it, John probably had depression (since his teenage years) but Paul was a constant positive thing in his life that he needed and that had helped him through it, "the girl who came to stay" until something happened...

John Lennon was definitely at his worst without his buddies by his side in the 70s.

#Asks #John Lennon #Mclennon #John and Paul #Lyrics #Paul Mccartney #The Beatles #would love to hear your thoughts too! #gttr-beatles

[gayalienwilde]

For this last day of celebration of Velvet Goldmine's 25th anniversary, I wanted to talk about why Velvet Goldmine is such an important movie to me. Nowadays shows and movies have gotten much better with their representation of marginalized groups, it's not always perfect, but it's definitely better than even just a decade ago. Growing up and seeing queer characters in mainstream media that, unless created to be a punchline or demonized, were sterilized and surrounded by a cast of cishet people with no connection to other queer people (maybe a partner but that's it), can give the wrong ideas to queer kids. Making it seem like queer people aren't a community but just a couple of random individuals in an otherwise heterosexual world, it's not only unrealistic but it creates a sense of isolation, forever the ugly duckling that never meets other swans. The lack of good representation is harmful to queer kids that might feel like they're never gonna find other people like them, this is the reason that token representation in media is not enough, it means nothing when a character's whole purpose is to show that queer people exist as a monolithic mass of sassy side-characters. For this reason, media about queer people made by queer people is extremely important because it shows different queer realities. In Velvet Goldmine's case, not only is the movie itself representation, but the story it tells is also about representation as seen from a young queer fan's perspective and how it affects him.

Seeing Brian and Curt be openly queer gives Arthur much more confidence in his own identity, this is shown when he imagines himself coming out to his parents through Brian's interview and when he goes out dressed like he wants and searches for the other glam kids. Even if both times he stops himself, in the first case because of his parents judgemental stares directed at Brian, and in the second case he's probably intimidated by the other kids that have been comfortable in their identities for much longer than him (which is kind of taken from Todd Haynes' own experience, in this interview he says that the older glitter girls were intimidating to him in middle school). This serves to show how representation can help the people that can't immediately be out and proud, because even if Arthur can't come out or make other queer friends he can find solace in Brian and Curt's music and general media presence, which is not only openly queer but sexual too. Later in the movie we will also see Arthur finally being able to be his true self and find his community in London, so it's not a surprise then seeing Arthur become a journalist when it was the interviews, magazines and newspapers that he'd read in his youth that helped him gain confidence in himself.

But for the viewer Arthur is he himself representation, his struggles and journey a mirror of the experiences of many young queer fans. For me personally the scene where Arthur tells his parents that he's going out and then sneakily takes off his jacket and goes out dressed like he wanted to be has always been the most relatable, him being happy walking in the crowd with his head held high reminds me of my first pride, even if I was too scared to approach anyone simply being surrounded by queer people and being able to be myself put me at ease, and later trying not to cry on the train back home while I took off anything that had rainbows on it and lying to my parents about where I had been, it's probably one of the biggest reasons I am so attached to Velvet Goldmine, I saw myself in it in a way I'd never seen in any other media before. Even 25 years after it's creation Velvet Goldmine's representation is still better than that of some recent media, because it doesn't shy away from showing the sad, the sexual and, most importantly, the happy parts of queer life. In the end, seeing Arthur go through a lot of different difficult situations both in his youth and in his adulthood and still manage to push through it all and find some connections with other queer people, first in London and then in the 80s when he's reunited with Curt, that gives me hope that no matter what we're all going through, we will keep making it, and most importantly it's a reminder that, to quote a Bowie song, you're not alone.

#velvet goldmine #VelvetGoldmine25th #25YearsOfVelvetGoldmine #happy bday Velvet Goldmine <3 #pointed epigram #movie analysis

[bijouxcarys]

Allure (Brian May x fem!Reader)

Masterlist

This has been on my Ao3 since June, but I thought I’d put it on here properly. This is probably the filthiest Bri fic I’ve ever written… I’m proud of it🥲

NSFW, minors dni

Summary: You slip up at work. Luckily for you, Brian May can get anyone out of anything…

Tags: @whothefuckisanja @celestial-dragoness you don’t have to read this, but I thought I’d tag you just in case 🥹

It started off as any other day. Up at 7am, shower by 7:30am, breakfast by 8am, out the door by 8:30am.

Except, this wasn't an ordinary day. Not by a long shot.

I guess I should have been more prepared for the fact that my job as a journalist meant I'd have to speak to some pretty well-known folk here and there. Granted, I was only an apprentice journalist, but I should have known it wouldn't be so easy.

There I was, stood by my front door, at 8:31, debating whether or not I was right for this career. And I was tempted to turn, disrobe, and bury myself in the covers of my bed until the apocalypse came.

My mentor, Candice, had thirty years on me, and twenty years of experience in the field, so I trusted that she would be blunt and honest with me about what I should expect when interviewing somebody of high status. She just didn't warn me about how important this experience would be for me.

But then again, I'm not sure anybody could have prepared me for what was to come.

I managed to make it to the car park, however, of where Candice and I had set to meet, just shy of ten o'clock. I still wasn't 100% sure where abouts in London we were heading that day, as I was just told to bring an overnight bag due to the possibility of having to stay at a hotel, depending on how long we would be. Turns out, we were going to Germany by the Eurotunnel.

But, man, did I know who I'd be in the presence of that day. I'd thought about nothing else for weeks.

It was June 14th, 1998 – Brian May had just released his second solo album 'Another World' two weeks earlier, and it was my job to assist on the interview he was set to do with Isabelle Brinkman. She wasn't that much older than me, but definitely had more experience. I wasn't at that point in my career yet where I could conduct interviews myself. I just had to sit on the side and naively watch as somebody who could do the job better did it instead. To top it all off, I was merely there to take notes from a translator, as I did not understand a single word of German. That made it all the more terrifying for me. Perhaps they just wanted to see how I would adapt to a foreign setting.

As Candice and I stepped foot into the studio in which TMF conducted their interviews, a sense of anticipation permeated the air. Our rendezvous with Isabelle awaited us, serving as a prelude to the highly anticipated interview. While the interview itself was schedules for later that afternoon, the studio surroundings provided me with ample opportunity to acclimate myself to the dynamic atmosphere that awaited me. It was a chance to familiarise myself with the intricacies of the environment I was about to enter—a world where words held immense power and where every question had the potential to unravel hidden truths.

As the minutes ticked away, my mind oscillated between nervous excitement and a profound realisation. I would soon find myself in the presence of none other than Brian May himself—a legendary figure whose musical contributions had resonated with generations. The magnitude of this encounter began to sink in, and with it came a mix of awe and trepidation. Thoughts swirled in my mind as I pondered the upcoming exchange—how would I react in his presence? Would I have able to articulate myself with the clarity and precision they deserved? Hopefully I wouldn't have to actually speak to him... Just being in his presence was privilege in itself.

Yet, amidst these swirling thoughts, a flicker of determination emerged. I reminded myself that this was an extraordinary opportunity—an invitation to engage with a living legend, to witness him delve into the depths of his creative process, and to extract insights that would captivate audiences around the world. With each passing moment, I sought solace in the knowledge that, despite any apprehension, this experience was a testament to the trust placed in me by my more-established peers. I was being given a chance to contribute, even if it was from the side, to the legacy of Brian May—and artist who, I believed, had shaped the very fabric of music.

As the hours stretched before me, I endeavoured to channel my nervous energy into thorough preparation. I immersed myself in research, diving into Brian May's two albums, and reading through archived interviews he had done before, mostly so I could strike out any repetitious questions Isabelle may have had prepared for him. But I also was just intrigued by him, and I wanted to know what I was going to be in the presence of. Through my research, every lyric, every note, every word, became a mosaic of inspiration.

The late 80s proved to be quite a tumultuous period for him regarding his relationship with the media, and his relationships in general. An intricate dance between his public persona and the unyielding scrutiny of the media.

I wasn't totally naïve. I was acutely aware of the parasitic nature that permeated our realm—a cesspool of opportunistic souls who revelled in tearing down the very individuals they claimed to admire. Yet, I steadfastly refused to succumb to that dark allure. My fascination lay in unravelling the enigmatic tapestry of these extraordinary beings, basking in the brilliance of their craft, rather than dismantling their lives for the mere pleasure of it.

To me, celebrities were not objects to be consumed, but multifaceted individuals with their own joys, struggles, and insecurities. Their private lives, as tempestuous or serene as they might be, had no bearing on the rest of the world. Behind the glamour of their fame, they were simply human beings, not so dissimilar from you and me, navigating the labyrinthine paths of existence.

I approached my work with an unwavering respect, seeking to bridge the gap between the public and these luminaries, offering glimpses into their creative realms rather than prying open their vulnerabilities. I yearned to understand the essence of their artistry, to unearth the inspiration that fuelled their endeavours, and to convey their stories with the reverence they deserved. It was a mission guided by empathy, driven by an insatiable hunger to celebrate and preserve the legacies these individuals were shaping. Not destroy them.

While others revelled in salacious scandals and gossip-laden headlines, I found solace in the sacredness of their artistic endeavours. I revelled in the melodies that stirred souls, the words that painted vivid landscapes, and the performances that transported audiences to ethereal realms. It was this inherent love for the craft, this yearning to explore the inner workings of these extraordinary talents, that propelled me forward amidst the chaos.

So, the public image of Brian May that derived from the late 80s and the scandal involving his affair with his current partner, Anita Dobson—the scandal that whipped the media landscape into a frenzy wasn't of interest to me. I clung to my convictions, navigating the treacherous terrain with a blend of naivety and determination. I understood that the world I inhabited was stained by the shadows of exploitation, but I remained resolute in my pursuit of genuine connection—the kind that transcended gossip and scandal, diving deep into the heart of creativity, and fostering a genuine appreciation for the luminous souls who graced our stages and screens.

However, that changed slightly once I actually saw the man.

As I found myself standing in the formidable presence of Brian May, a wave of energy cascaded over me, leaving me utterly entranced. It was as if the very air crackled with a magnetic force that defied description. In that moment, any semblance of composure or rational thought disintegrated before my eyes. Within the first fifteen minutes of his arrival at TMF, Brian May effortlessly shattered my preconceived notions, transforming into an awe-inspiring figure who commanded attention and reverence.

The sight of him was nothing short of breathtaking—an embodiment of perfection that seemed plucked from the realms of mythology. His chiselled features bore the unmistakable mark of divinity, as if the gods themselves had sculpted his visage with meticulous care. The symphony of his presence reverberated through the room, overpowering every other sensory experience. It was impossible to avert my gaze as he greeted everyone on set; I witnessed the personification of physical beauty in its purest form.

I didn't approach the welcome committee. I stood as far away from them as I could, trying to act inconspicuous and making myself as invisible as possible as I observed.

A cascade of dark curls framed his face and sat, slightly draping, over his shoulders, their lustrous strands captivating the light and casting an ethereal glow around him. His eyes, a mesmerising kaleidoscope of celestial depth and hazel intensity, even from this distance, seemed to hold the wisdom of ages. They were windows into the realm of profound emotion, reflecting a captivating blend of passion, intellect, and sensitivity.

Every contour of his face, every sculpted angle, exuded an aura of strength and grace—a testament to the artistic precision with which he was formed. His strong jawline bespoke of resilience and determination, while his lips, seemingly touched by the same gods that created his being, were etched with a subtle hint of enigmatic allure. And when he smiled, it was as if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating the room with an effervescent radiance.

I instinctively lowered my head, trying to blend into the background as he navigated his way through the crowd in the studio, a sea of eager faces vying for his attention. Perched on a small stood, clutching a notebook and pen tightly in my hands, I silently prayed that I would go unnoticed. The last thing I wanted was to embarrass myself in front of him. It was safer to keep my distance and retreat into the safe haven of my own fantasies.

"Didn't fancy joining the rest of them?"

His voice, soft and melodious, pierced through the clamour of the room, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach, leaving me momentarily breathless. Summoning every ounce of courage, I swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath, lifting my gaze to meet the man who had taken my breath away mere moments ago. From my seated position, his commanding presence loomed above me, radiating an aura of undeniable power. I had to tilt my head upwards, straining my neck to meet his piercing gaze.

"I'm Brian," he introduced himself, extending his hand towards me. My throat felt dry and raspy, a nervous rasp that I quickly cleared before attempting to speak. I timidly reached out, expecting a perfunctory handshake, but instead, my smaller hand was enveloped firmly within his, a testament to his unyielding determination.

"I know who you are, Mr. May," I managed to murmur, hoping he would perceive my passive greeting, one that he had received from everyone else, as a signal to proceed with the scheduled interview alongside Isabelle, who was comfortably seated on the cream-coloured sofa amidst the orangey décor of the set.

"Don't you have a name?" His low chuckle reverberated through the air, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the encounter. I could feel his gaze penetrating through me, raising an inferno of sensations within. It was both exhilarating an unnerving.

"What?" I stammered, my voice betraying my awe, caught off guard by his presence.

"What's your name, love?" he inquired, his words laced with a mixture of warmth and intrigue.

"Y/N," I replied, my voice barely audible, resembling a small squeak that escaped from my lips.

He didn't respond immediately, but a final squeeze of my hand conveyed more than words ever could. A smile graced his lips, a smile that could rival the radiance of the sun before he turned to continue his path towards Isabelle.

I quickly realised that resistance was futile. The power he held over me was undeniable, a force that stripped away my inhibitions and left me vulnerable, willingly surrendering to his captivating energy. The sheer magnetism and allure he emanated transcended mortal boundaries, weaving a spell that ensnared me completely. Every facet of his being—the physical, the intellectual, the artistic—melded seamlessly, forging an embodiment of perfection that surpassed the realm of ordinary mortals.

From that moment on, I understood that my perception of beauty had irrevocably changed. Before me stood a true titan, a modern-day manifestation of the gods themselves.

During the course of the interview, Brian effortlessly settled to the plushness of the sofa, exuding an air of both confidence and ease. His body language commanded attention, with one arm casually draped across the backrest, and his other leg bent upon the cushions, positioning himself towards Isabelle with captivating allure. However, my attempts to absorb the content of their conversation proved futile as my gaze became entranced by his mesmerising presence.

From my vantage point, I relished the opportunity to observe him from a distance, allowing my eyes to linger appreciatively on his impeccable attire. A navy-blue two-piece suit enveloped his frame with sartorial perfection, accentuating his refined taste and sense of style. Beneath the well-tailored blazer, a crisp white shirt peeked through, its top buttons undone, revealing a tantalising glimpse of his sun-kissed upper chest. The subtle contrast of his slightly tanned skin against the pure white fabric was a testament to his natural allure and radiance.

Adorning his neck were two carefully chosen necklaces, their delicate details harmonising flawlessly with his complexion. Each pendant seemed to dance in unison, subtly emphasising his features and drawing attention to his undeniable charm. The interplay between these intricate accessories and the warm tones of his skin created a symphony of visual aesthetics, highlighting his magnetic presence.

Amidst the flurry of the interview, my eyes were irresistibly drawn to his captivating appearance. Every intricate detail of his attire beckoned for closer inspection, each aspect a testament to his impeccable style and timeless elegance. The room faded into the background as my gaze became fixated on the contours of his form, the way his clothing accentuated his stature, and the natural grace with which he carried himself. It was a visual feast, an opportunity to savour the beauty that surrounded him, and I couldn't help but be captivated by his magnetic charm.

Fortuitously, a small earpiece nestled in my ear, providing a direct channel to the translation of Isabelle's introduction and any other German dialogue that followed. But more significantly, it granted me an intimate connection to the melodic cadence of Brian May's voice. The mere thought of his voice coursing through that earpiece ignited a surge of anticipation within me. Little did I know that the experience that awaited me would transcend all expectations.

As Isabelle initiated the conversation, a symphony of words flowed through the airwaves and gently caressed my eardrums. And then, there it was—Brian May's voice, like warm butter gliding smoothly across my senses. The velvety timbre carried a magnetic quality that effortlessly captivated the listener. Each word resonated with a seductive charm, a richness that wove a tapestry of emotions within me.

The power of his voice was unparalleled, evoking a multitude of sensations that transcended the realm of rationality. It wrapped around my consciousness, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and enchantment. Every syllable held a certain allure, drawing me deeper into his world, where time seemed to stand still.

The boundaries of reason crumbled, leaving only the ethereal essence of his voice, a sonic embrace that caressed the very core of my being. It was a voice that defied age, carrying the wisdom and maturity of a man who had traversed five decades of life. Each information exuded a richness and depth, a testament to a life well-lived and experiences etched into the fibres of his being.

As his words reached my ears, I found myself spellbound, unable to resist the intoxicating allure that emanated from his every utterance. It was as though his voice held the power to awaken desires and emotions that lay dormant until that very moment. The experience was nothing short of transformative.

In that fleeting moment, I could have sworn that Brian's hazel eyes, though perhaps coincidental, locked onto mine from a distance. It could have been a passing thought, a random gaze that happened to intersect with mine, but the impact was undeniable. The weight of his attention, even if momentary, unleashed a surge of emotions within me.

Under the piercing intensity of his hazel gaze, a tempest of sensations coursed through my body, sparking an unfamiliar and overwhelming response. A wave of desire washed over me, as if an invisible force had taken hold of my very core. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence had ignited a primal longing that rendered me powerless, leaving me trembling in its wake.

In that profound instant, my purpose became blurred, and the world around me faded into insignificance. The boundaries of my job seemed trivial, overshadowed by an insatiable craving to bask in Brian May's dominance and surrender myself to his every whim. The realisation struck me with an intensity that was as terrifying as it was intoxicating.

The clenching of my thighs, an involuntary response to the overwhelming desire that surged within me, was a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil I grappled with. It was a battle between reason and raw passion, where reason ultimately stood no chance against the allure of Brian's commanding presence.

Throughout the unfolding interview, a subtle dance of power and desire materialised between Brian and I. With each passing moment, I became increasingly aware that that gaze that I had noticed before was in fact for me.

It was a captivating display of dominance, a silent declaration that sent a shiver down my spine.

As the questions flowed, Brian's eyes kept meeting mine with a compelling force, even with myself being well-hidden behind the camera set-up. His presence enveloped me, it was a game of seduction, a battle for control, as his penetrating eyes sought to unravel the depths of my desires.

With each subtle shift of his body, a wave of power emanated from him, asserting his dominance over the room. His confident posture and deliberate movements spoke volumes, conveying an unspoken command that ignited a fire within me. I found myself willingly succumbing to his overwhelming presence, yearning to explore the unspoken desires that lingered in the air.

Through the veil of professionalism, his eyes whispered secrets that stirred a primal response within me. In their depths, I glimpsed a hunger, a hunger that mirrored my own, as if he were daring me to embrace the intoxicating allure of submission. It was a dance of power and surrender, an unspoken invitation to explore the depths of passion under his watchful gaze.

He spoke with Isabelle, showing her the album cover, his fingers grazing over parts that he detailed. But the electricity that crackled between us grew more potent with each passing second. His dominant presence commanded my attention, drawing me further into a world where his desires and mine entwined. In the recesses of his eyes, I discovered a realm where control was relinquished, and the boundaries of pleasure were pushed to their limits.

But as the interview continued, I was left with a lingering uncertainty. Was it merely a game of dominance, a tantalising tease to stoke the flames of desire? Or did his eyes convey a deeper truth, an unspoken invitation to submit to his commanding presence? Or, perhaps, I had been utterly spellbound by that man's presence that every little thing he did translated as sexual and intoxicating seduction. The questions lingered, suspended in the air, as the energy between us remained tantalisingly unresolved.

As the interview drew to a close, a lingering sense of anticipation remained. He had created uncharted territory, without him even knowing—unless he did know... I'm still not sure.

Suddenly, the world around me seemed to fade into the background as Brian's presence intensified. Time slowed to a crawl, and every detail of his captivating demeanour etched itself into my memory. Isabelle's closing remarks echoes in the room, yet my attention remained fixated on the enigmatic figure before me.

A mischievous smirk played upon Brian's lips, radiating confidence and a hint of playful intrigue. His eyes, like pools of intensity, surveyed the room with a subtle air of dominance. A glass of water rested in his hands, his long, slender fingers tracing a mesmerising path along the rim, leaving a trail of anticipation in their wake.

It was then that a startling realisation washed over me. Throughout the entire interview, my hand had unconsciously clung tightly to the pencil, rendering it immobile. As I reluctantly tore my gaze away from Brian's captivating presence, I glanced down at my neglected notebook, only to discover its pristine pages untouched by a single word.

A mix of awe and bewilderment coursed through my veins. How had I become so utterly transfixed by his presence that I had neglected my professional duties? It was as if time had suspended itself, and my sole purpose had shifted from capturing his words to capturing the essence of his being.

The blank pages of my notebook served as a stark reminder of the power he had over me, and in that moment, I understood the depth of his allure and the undeniable impact he had on those in his orbit. As the weight of the realisation settled upon me, a mixture of embarrassment and fascination flooded my senses.

An overwhelming wave of panic washed over me as I sat there, paralysed by the realisation of my negligence. The enchantment that had held me captive for the past twenty minutes shattered, leaving me vulnerable to the harsh reality that awaited. Candice, my ever-watchful colleague, would undoubtedly discover my failure, and her disapproval would be swift and scathing.

My heart pounded against my ribcage like a drum, its frantic beats mirroring the chaotic thoughts racing through my mind. How could I have allowed this to happen? The dream of advancing my career, of one day becoming a renowned journalist, now seemed like an elusive mirage, fading away before my very eyes.

Self-recrimination echoes through my thoughts like a relentless chorus. The weight of my own stupidity bore down upon me, squeezing the air from my lungs. I berated myself for succumbing to the allure of Brian's presence, for allowing it to eclipse my responsibilities. The consequences of my foolishness loomed over me, casting a shadow of doubt and regret.

The sound of Candice's voice calling my name snapped me back to the present. Her stern tone pierced through the haze of my thoughts, jolting me to action. It was time to face the consequences, to confront my failure head-on, and accept the repercussions of my actions.

I watched as Candice approached with an expectant expression. Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach, knowing all too well what awaited me. With every step she took, my heart sank deeper into the depths of remorse.

Candice's sharp eyes scanned the notebook in front of me, her gaze narrowing in disbelief. The realisation hit her like a tidal wave as she noticed the pages, void of any lead reflections from the interview. A mix of disappointment and fury twisted her features, and I braced myself for the inevitable scolding.

The room seemed to hush, the air thick with uncomfortable tension, as Candice's voice boomed through an angry whisper. "What on Earth is this, Y/N?" A collective murmur rippled through the small bunches of people that surrounded us as curious eyes turned toward our direction.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, my gaze dropping to the floor, unable to meet the accusing eyes of my colleagues. Shame wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud, tightening with every word that spilled from Candice's lips. Her reprimand echoed in the silence, a blistering reminder of my failure, and I swallowed hard, my throat constricted by a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry, Candice. I got caught up in the moment, and I just... completely forgot to write anything down, I promise it won't happen agai—"

"You were given a responsibility, and you let it slip away because you were too mesmerised by the answers? This is not acceptable, do you understand how poorly this reflects on our team?" Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was laced with irritation.

"I know, I'm truly sorry. It was a lapse of judgement."

Candice's scolding continued, her words filled with a mixture of reprimand and concern for my professional growth. The weight of her disappointment pressed upon me, intensifying my remorse.

A peculiar sensation tingled at the back of my neck whilst my supervisor continued to reprimand me in the corner of this studio, drawing my gaze elsewhere and hoping she would stop soon so I could just go home and bury myself in the covers of my bed. I met the intense gaze of Brian May, who hadn't left yet, much to my demise, and watched the scene unfold from a distance. His eyes held a mix of curiosity and intrigue, remaining an observer, captivated by the drama playing out before him.

It was a moment of profound humiliation, and yet, there was something strangely captivating about the way Brian watched. His silent presence added an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. It was as if he recognised the vulnerability within me, the weight of my mistake, and found a fascination in the spectacle.

As Candice walked away, her words lingered in the air, mingling with a mix of determination and self-reflection. I felt the stinging of tears in my eyes from the sheer embarrassment of my lack of competence. I rested my elbows on my knees, bringing the notebook up to my face and burying my head in it in shame.

I stayed there for as long as I could, not wanting to meet the judgemental gazes from those around me, and it had cleared out somewhat by the time I decided to actually stand up and gather my things. The bottle of water I had with me had been completely dried out from the constant sips I had to take whilst watching Brian's interview. My mouth was dry from Candice's scolding, and I whined under my breath just from the thought of anything else going wrong today.

It can't have been that far after four in the afternoon when I was collecting myself in the hallway of the studio, preparing to get a taxi back to the Euro so I could fuck off home and never emerge from my bed ever again. But before I could make my hasty exit, a soft voice called out, interrupting my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" the voice said, drawing my attention. I looked up, my eyes still slightly watery from the threats of tears, only to lock gazes with the very person who had inadvertently disrupted my responsibilities. It was none other than Brian himself, standing a few paces away, holding out the empty notebook towards me. "Sorry to disturb you, but, uh, you left this in the studio."

Confusion mingled with surprise as I furrowed my eyebrows, my emotions still raw from the earlier events. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously reached out, accepting the notebook from him. My voice quivered slightly as I murmured my thanks, unable to meet his gaze for more than a fleeting moment.

Concern etched across his face, Brian leaned against the wall, hands tucked casually in his pockets. The audacity of his next words caught me off guard, a mixture of bluntness and subtle insult towards Candice.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. "I couldn't help but notice you being lectured by an old sow earlier."

My surprise turned into astonishment, my eyes widening at his audacious remark. The unexpected camaraderie in his words momentarily eased the weight on my shoulders, and I met his gaze, finding solace in his directness.

"I... I'll be fine," I replied, my voice steadier now. "Just one of those days, you know?"

Brian's expression softened, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The air between us crackled with a silent understanding, as if he knew the struggled that came with navigating the industry.

"May I ask what happened?" Brian inquired, his gaze fixed on me. The mere sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, leaving me at a loss for words. How was I supposed to hold a conversation with him when his presence alone had already rendered me speechless? I felt the weight of inadequacy pressing on me, threatening to unravel any semblance of coherence I had left.

It's nothing," I managed to squeak out, my eyes involuntarily darting downwards to take in the details of his attire illuminated by the strip lights in the hallway. "Just some... technical issues," I lied, my voice betraying the fabricated story. I couldn't let him know that I had been so foolish as to let his allure overpower my ability to do my job.

"Oh," he responded, briefly averting his gaze. "So, why were you being told off? That's what it seemed like, anyway." He shrugged, shifting his weight on his feet.

A blush crept across my face, and I found myself unable to meet his eyes, instead fixating on the flawlessly polished surface of his shoes. "I... I never wrote down the notes I needed to..." I mumbled, embarrassment washing over me once more. "By this time tomorrow, I'll probably be back in assistant mode, fetching coffee for everyone..." My voice trailed off, the reality of my prediction causing it to waver with distress. I felt the sting of tears welling up again, and I averted my gaze, desperately seeking solace in a different direction.

The internal self-deprecating thoughts echoes within me. How unprofessional, crying in front of Brian May. I couldn't help but feel the weight of my own perceived inadequacy crushing my spirit.

"Hey... I'm sure that won't happen," he smoothly assured me, his voice like velvet. In that moment, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, sending a thrilling shockwave through my entire being. Turning my head, I found myself face to face with Brian, his hand extending toward me, offering a pristine handkerchief. His warm, non-judgemental eyes conveyed a silent reassurance as he lightly waved the handkerchief, inviting me to accept it. With a shaky hand, I reached out and took it from him, mustering a feeble thank you. Although my mind should have been consumed with thoughts of potential demotion, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of using Brian May's handkerchief, to dry the tears over something he had inadvertently caused.

A rueful laugh escaped my lips. "No, it probably will happen," I nodded, my gaze fixed straight ahead. "It's a joke."

Brian let out a slight huff, as if in agreement, clicking his tongue and crossing his arms. He allowed a pause to hang in the air before speaking again. "Where are you staying? You can't be that old, I don't want you to be wandering about on your own."

"I am twenty-two, thank you very much," I chuckled. "I was supposed to be at the hotel down the street, but... after everything that's happened today, I think it's best if I just get on the Euro and head home," I replied with a somewhat wistful smile. "I don't really want to be around everyone right now. I can already imagine the judgemental looks they'll be throwing my way all night." I let out a sigh of resignation.

"Is it really that bad?" Brian raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"You have no idea..." I trailed off, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

"I don't know about that," he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I toured the world with three other drama queens and had to spend nights in hotels with them," he said, giving me a pointed look.

I met his gaze with a shy yet genuine expression, a smile slowly spreading across my face. "You've got me there."

"What was it that you were supposed to take notes of, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired curiously.

"My job was to note down your answers in shorthand," I replied, a hint of disappointment still lingering in my expression as I recalled the embarrassment of my failure. "For the British papers," I shrugged.

He hummed, his gaze shifting as he pondered for a moment. I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope as his eyes seemed to briefly sweep over me, but I dismissed it as mere wishful thinking.

"Well..." he began, his voice dropping slightly lower, his eyes still locked with mine, a mischievous glimmer dancing in their depths. "I have an idea that might just solve your predicament."

My heart skipped a beat as I waited, captivated by his words and the magnetic pull of his presence. There was an unmistakable air of authority and confidence about him, and allure that made it impossible to resist.

"Why don't you come back to my hotel with me?" he suggested, his voice laced with an irresistible charm. "We can sit down, go through the interview together, and you can take your notes directly from me. That way, you won't have to worry about losing your job over a simple technical glitch."

His proposition hung in the air, tantalising and daring. The thought of being alone with him, in the intimate setting of his hotel room, sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine, despite the lingering knowledge of the committed relationship that was awaiting him back in London. It was an offer I couldn't refuse, despite the lingering doubts and fears that swirled in my mind.

His gaze held mine, an unspoken challenge conveyed through the subtle arch of his eyebrow. He exuded a domineering aura, a man who was accustomed to taking charge and getting what he desired, when he desired. And in that moment, I couldn't deny the thrilling temptation of surrendering to his authority, even if it meant stepping into the unprofessional, and the unknown.

I took a deep breath, my voice barely a whisper as I mustered the courage to respond. "Alright," I acquiesced, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'll come with you."

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, a silent victory that revealed his satisfaction at having ensnared me in his web. With a gesture of his hand, he beckoned me to follow, his subtle dominance asserting itself even in this small act.

The ride to his hotel was a tense affair, filled with a mix of anticipation and self-doubt. I settled into the plush leather seat of the car, my palms slightly clammy as I clasped my notebook tightly, its empty pages a stark reminder of my shortcomings.

Brian sat beside me, radiating an air of casual elegance as he reclined comfortably, his gaze occasionally flickering towards me. The silence hung heavily in the air, pregnant with unspoken desires and uncharted territories. It was as if the car itself had transformed into a cocoon, isolating us from the outside world and intensifying the connection between us.

He broke the silence, his voice low and velvety, filled with a hint of weariness. "You know, these press dates can become quite tiresome after a while," he confessed, his tone tinged with a touch of frustration. "Having to repeat the same anecdotes, answer the same questions—it can feel like a never-ending cycle."

I listened intently, my heart aching with a mixture of sympathy and guilt. His dedication to his craft was evident, yet here he was, taking the time to accommodate my incompetence, going above and beyond to salvage my position.

The weight of his sacrifice settled on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for the burden he had shouldered on my behalf. A subtle pang of remorse washed over me, mingling with the lingering excitement that coursed through my veins.

"You didn't have to do this," I murmured softly, my voice tinged with gratitude and regret. "I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

He turned his gaze towards me, his eyes filled with understanding and something deeper, something that hinted at a hidden power dynamic between us. "Sometimes, we all need a little help," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of command. "And besides, it gives me an opportunity to spend some time with someone who appreciates the nuances of my work."

His words hung in the air, charged with unspoken implications. The car journey continued, each passing moment bringing us closer to his hotel, to an encounter that held the potential to blur the boundaries between professional obligations and personal desires.

As the city lights streaked past us in a mesmerising blur, a wave of apprehension washed over me. The weight of potential consequences bore down heavily, my mind conjuring images of disapproving glares and lectures from Candice. The thought of her disapproval and the potential damage to my professional reputation loomed like a dark cloud over this impulsive decision. But also... there was something in the back of mind that found that danger enticing.

I glanced at Brian, his profile illuminated by the passing lights, a captivating blend of charisma and enigma. The subtle shift of his features hinted at the complexities that lay beneath the surface. Yes, he was a renowned musician, an idol to many, but he was also a man with his own commitments and responsibilities.

My thoughts veered towards Candice's hypothetical reprimands, reminding me of the line I was treading. I wrestled with the inner turmoil, questioning my judgement, and yet, the allure of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the chance to glean insights from the man himself, called to me like a siren's song. The boundaries of reason blurred, and the forbidden fruit of possibility dangled temptingly before me.

I couldn't deny the excitement that coursed through my veins, even if we were simply going to talk about the interview. But something told me that he wouldn't have invited me to his hotel room if he only wanted to repeat what he'd told Isabelle. But reality, too, had its grip on my conscience. Brian's relationship status, thought not conventional in the traditional sense, added another layer of complexity.

The conflict within me intensified, the battle between reason and desire waged in my mind. And as the car whisked us closer to the hotel, I knew that a pivotal moment awaited me on the other side of those doors. A moment that would test the limits of my self-control and challenge the very fabric of my professional identity.

As the car pulled up in front of the grand hotel entrance, I couldn't help but be awestruck by its opulence. Towering pillars adorned with intricate carvings framed the entrance, while a cascading waterfall nearby added a touch of serenity to the bustling city surroundings. The lobby, with its marble floors and sparkling chandeliers, exuded an air of sophistication and exclusivity.

Brian stepped to get out of the car, his presence commanding attention as he glanced back at me, his eyes inviting me to join him on this adventure. I took a deep breath, my heart fluttering in anticipation, and followed suit.

The moment our eyes met, a magnetic connection sparked between us. A subtle exchange of glances spoke volumes, conveying unspoken desires and hidden depths. It was in those stolen moments that the tension between us grew, the unspoken understanding that something powerful was unfolding.

As we stepped into the lavish lobby, the plush furnishings and hushed atmosphere enveloped us. Brian's hand brushed lightly against my lower back, a simple gesture that sent shivers down my spine. The touch was fleeting yet deliberate, a tantalising hint of the electricity crackling in the air.

We made our way to the elevator, managing to be inconspicuous to the very few people who were actually in the lobby, the soft chime signalled its arrival. The enclosed space became our private sanctuary, the air thick with anticipation. The mirrored walls reflected our proximity, capturing the unspoken intensity that hung in the air.

In the confined space, Brian's scent enveloped me, a heady combination of musky cologne and a hint of adventure. Every moment felt deliberate, every breath carried a weight of anticipation. Our eyes locked in the reflection, mirroring a depth of connection that defied words.

As the elevator ascended, our proximity grew, the space between us closing with each passing floor. Brian's voice, laced with a husky undertone, broke the silence. "I must say, the view from my room is quite breathtaking," he remarked, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

I leaned in slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can only imagine," I replied, the innuendo hanging in the air, adding a subtle layer of flirtation to our conversation.

A playful smile tugged at the corners of Brian's lips, his eyes holding that same mischievous glint as earlier. His hand casually brushed against mine as the elevator came to a halt, the touch electrifying and tantalisingly brief. The doors slid open, revealing a corridor bathed in soft, warm lighting.

We walked side by side, the click of our footsteps echoing in the hushed ambiance. The anticipation between us was palpable, a dance of desire and restraint. The subtle glances exchanged spoke volumes, carrying a shared secret that only we understood.

Arriving at his room, Brian fumbled for the key, his hand brushing against mine once again as he unlocked the door. The room's interior exuded luxury, with plush furnishings and a panoramic view of the city skyline. The atmosphere was charged with an undeniable energy, as if the room itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Brian motioned for me to take a seat on the plush sofa, while he made his way to a side table adorned with crystal glasses and a sparkling bottle of water. His movements were controlled, each action carrying a subtle authority that commanded attention.

He poured a glass of water, the liquid cascading effortlessly into the glass. With an almost calculated grace, he handed it to me, his fingers grazing mine ever so slightly. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I found myself captivated by his commanding presence.

Settling into a nearby armchair, Brian's gaze fixed upon me with an intensity that made my heart race. He picked up my notebook, his fingers tracing the empty pages as he glanced back at me, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and dominance.

"Let's go over the interview, shall we?" he suggested, his voice laced with authority. I nodded, my voice momentarily escaping me in the face of his dominant aura.

As we delved into the conversation, his proximity grew, our arms occasionally brushing against each other's as we gestured or reached for the notebook. Each touch was a subtle reminder of his control and my vulnerability.

His gaze never wavered, his eyes piercing into mine with a sense of ownership. He dissected each question and response with precision, his tone firm yet enticing. The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable tension.

Brian's hand occasionally found its way to the small of my back, a subtle gesture of possession that left me breathless and wanting more.

As we concluded our review of the interview, an unspoken understanding passed between us. Brian's gaze held a hint of satisfaction, as if pleased with my progress under his guidance. I couldn't deny the thrilling allure of his dominance, the way he effortlessly took charge and led me down a path of unexplored sensuality, purely in the way he spoke and answered the questions.

Once we'd finished, a sense of relief washed over me. I placed my pencil down on the coffee table, grateful for the notes I now had to present to Candice. But little did I know that the night was far from over, and the dynamics between Brian and I were about to take a new turn.

As I sat back on the sofa, taking a sip of water from the glass Brian had graciously given me, he caught me off guard with an unexpected question.

"Why don't you ask me about my relationship?" His words hung in the air, laden with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

I nearly choked on my water, my eyes widening in surprise. His question was so sudden and unexpected that I struggled to find the right response. "W... What?" I stammered, my voice betraying my confusion as I carefully set the glass back on the coffee table.

"Everyone else does. Why don't you?" Brian rose from his seat, striding over to the armchair across the room. He reached up, gracefully removing his navy-blue blazer and draping it over the back of the chair. His movements were confident and self-assured, his hands casually returning to his pockets.

I watched him in awe, captivated by his every gesture. The way he carried himself, the slight tilt of his head, the way he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms—each detail seemed to heighten his allure. His hair, with its enchanting allure, seemed to beckon to me, and I couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull toward him, yet again.

Feeling a heat rise in my cheeks, I cleared my throat, crossing my legs in an attempt to steady myself. I hoped he wouldn't notice the effect he had on me, even though the atmosphere had been charged with flirtation throughout our time together thus far. Deep down, a small voice whispered that it was all in my head, that Brian was simply being accommodating.

"I, uh..." I began, my voice slightly shaky as I took another sip of water, hoping to steady my nerves. "Well, I don't see why I should ask about your relationship," I replied, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the perplexed undertone in my voice. "It's really nobody's business, right?" I added, my brows furrowing.

Brian's lips curled into a partly playful, partly impressed, smile, and he moved closer to me, now stood right in front of me, like he was when we first met eyes earlier that afternoon. His eyes locked steadily onto mine. The air once again crackled with anticipation and unspoken feelings.

"That's true," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But sometimes, it's intriguing to delve into the depths of someone's personal life, don't you think? To understand their desires, their secrets..."

His words hung in the air, charged with an undeniable seductive energy.

"So, I'm going to ask you, Y/N..." Brian's voice drew me in, his words laced with a magnetic allure. He moved away slightly, only to settle beside me on the sofa, his body angled toward mine. I couldn't help but feel a surge of prospect as I realised that he had remembered my name, speaking it for the first time since he'd met me.

"What about you?" his voice was a seductive whisper, gently coaxing me to reveal the depths of my own desires. My breath caught in my throat, the intensity of his presence almost overwhelming.

"What about me?" I managed to whisper, my voice betraying a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

Brian let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent a rush of heat coursing through me. As he shifted his position, resting his arm casually across the back of the sofa, he mirrored the way he had sat with Isabelle during the interview. But this time, his proximity to me was closer, his energy more focused. It was as if the space between us had become charged with an unspoken understanding.

His hand reached out, deliberately smoothing over the slight ruffle in my black skirt. The touch was gentle, but its intention was unmistakable. I couldn't help but feel the electricity that surged through me as his fingertips lingered on my knee. A wave of desire washed over me, causing my thighs to clench and a quiver to run through the depths of my being. I briefly closed my eyes, my senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating tension that enveloped us.

But my eyes snapped back open, meeting his gaze when he finally responded. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation, and I hung onto his every word, eager to unravel the depths of this enigmatic man before me.

Brian's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he locked his gaze with mine. He had seen through my feeble attempt to divert the conversation and now he was toying with me, like a skilled predator playing with its prey.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice dripping with subtle amusement, "I can't help but wonder if those technical difficulties were just an excuse. Perhaps there's something else that prevented you from taking those notes." His words hung in the air, laden with implication.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and fascination. How did he manage to see through my façade so effortlessly? It was as if he possessed an uncanny ability to unravel the truths hidden beneath the layers of my carefully constructed lies.

"You're quite perceptive," I admitted, my voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "There might have been... other distractions that prevented me from fulfilling my duties."

Brian's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. His hand, still resting on my knee, exerted a subtle pressure, a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play. It was a gesture that sent a jolt coursing through me, making me acutely aware of his commanding presence.

"Well, Y/N," he murmured, his voice lowering again, "if you were indeed distracted, perhaps its time we address that distraction head-on."

I swallowed hard, my heart once again pounding in my chest. It was as if the world around us had faded into the background, leaving the two of us locked in this exhilarating dance of desire and power. I was drawn to him, unable to resist him, and he knew it.

"What do you suggest, Brian?" I exhaled, my voice a velvet whisper that teased the air. I teetered on the precipice of desire, my every fibre ready to succumb to his captivating dominance, yearning to explore the uncharted depths of passion that enticed us both.

His piercing gaze intensified, a searing ember of authority glowing in his eyes, beckoning me further into his world. "Y/N," he purred, his voice a sultry blend of command and invitation, "Perhaps it's time we plunge into the depths of these tantalising distractions. It would be such a waste to let them slip through our fingers, wouldn't it?"

He meticulously grazed his teeth against his plump lower lip, his predatory eyes descending upon my body with a swift hunger. "Are you seeing somebody?"

I took a deep breath, my eyes locked on his hand resting on my knee. It felt like an anchor, grounding me in the midst of the swirling emotions that Brian had effortlessly stirred within me. I shook my head slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "No..."

His grip on my knee tightened ever so slightly, a subtle display of dominance that that sent a jolt of excitement coursing through me. Tense, the weight of his question hanging in the silence. Brian's gaze continued to bore into mine, his eyes filled with an intensity that made it hard to look away.

"But I'm assuming you have," he prodded gently, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and desire. As he spoke, his hand shifted, his fingers tracing a path of electrifying warmth up my thigh. Every inch of my skin burned under his touch, igniting a fire deep within me that I struggled to contain.

My thoughts became hazy, a cocktail of longing and forbidden fantasies swirling in my mind. The allure of Brian's commanding presence was overwhelming, captivating me in ways I couldn't resist. Rationality wavered as I found myself yearning for his dominance, for him to physically take control and guide me into uncharted territory.

I mustered the strength to respond, my voice trembling with a potent mixture of apprehension and desire. "Yes," I finally confessed, my admission punctuated by a shuddering breath. The confession hung in the air, a tangible invitation for Brian to delve deeper into the depths of my past and desires.

"Of course, that was a silly question for me to ask you." Brian's laughter, a melodic symphony, echoed in the room, mingling with the charged atmosphere that enveloped us. That mischievous glint in his eyes danced with a hint of desire as he playfully taunted me.

"A pretty thing like you... No way a man hasn't approached you. No way you can't have experienced such things that come with it." His words, dripping with seductive confidence, sent shivers down my spine, awakening a dormant fire within me. As he continued, his hand embarked on a daring expedition, traversing the landscape of my thigh with deliberate intent. The tantalising proximity of his touch ignited a flame of exhilaration, intensifying his charm.

"Is this okay?"

Caught in the magnetic field of his presence, my breath hitched. His audacity, his audacious exploration of my boundaries, both thrilled and unnerved me. His question, whispered like a forbidden secret, hung in the air, enticing and provocative.

My gaze met his, locked in a fierce battle of desire and restraint. His head tilted ever so slightly, offering a glimpse into a world of untamed passion that lay just beyond my peripheral vision. It was a challenge, a temptation I couldn't ignore.

"Yes..." I gasped, a delicate confession of my yearning. The room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of our shared anticipation, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken desire that had been crackling above us since he asked me if I had a name back at the studio.

With every fibre of my being attuned to his touch, I met his piercing gaze, a hunger ignited within myself. The anticipation hung thick and heady in the air, as my body responded to his unspoken desires, yearning for the raw intensity that lay just beyond our fingertips.

His hand, once resting on the back of the sofa, now ventured into the depths of my hair, fingers dancing through the strands with an almost possessive tenderness. My breath hitched, a mixture of excitement and anxiety coursing through me veins.

His voice, a velvety caress, laced with his characteristic authority, penetrated the atmosphere. "You said you were twenty-two?" he asked, his touch a sensory symphony that sent shivers cascading down my spine to the fullest. I nodded, my lips instinctively finding refuge between my teeth, an unconscious response to the mounting tension that enveloped us.

"So young and full of life," he mused, his words a tantalising invitation into a world of hidden desires. The weight of his statement settled upon us, passing through us like a current. "You do understand what I'm trying to do right now, don't you?"

I knew exactly what he was attempting to do, and the thought alone could have caused me to climax on his sofa right then and there.

A barely contained breath escaped my lips, as I chuckled and shifted my body to face him fully as an answer. The crossing of my legs changed, creating an open pathway to explore our proximity. As if attuned to my movements, Brian's hand left my leg momentarily, only to reclaim its rightful place on my thigh, a possessive declaration of his intent.

Curiosity burned within me, emboldened by his unabashed dominance. "Do you do this a lot?" I ventured, resting my arm on the back of the sofa, a subtle invitation for him to delve deeper into the intricacies of his world. The revelation of his true intentions liberated me, allowing me to respond in kind, the allure of the forbidden dance consuming my thoughts.

Brian seemed a little taken aback by my question, but his initial surprise quickly dissolved into a low chuckle, a hint of intrigue glinting in his eyes. His gaze momentarily shifted to his hand, which had settled on the back of my thigh, his thumb tracing tantalising circles against the soft skin, exerting a gentle tug.

"I wouldn't say a lot... but every now and then, I stumble upon someone I really, really like," he confessed, his voice descending to a husky whisper as his eyes flickered up to meet mine. "Someone I simply can't resist," he added, his words resonating with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "And you, my dear, are the most captivating creature I've encountered thus far."

His compliments reverberated within me, causing me to sink deeper into the plush embrace of the sofa, my face suffused with a bright crimson blush. "Am I?" A small smirk danced on my lips as I raised an eyebrow, my inquiry carrying a weight that went beyond the surface. Unintentionally, I had invoked the presence of Anita, his partner, and now the unspoken tension lingered between us.

His eyes narrowed, the spark of recognition igniting in his gaze. But instead of letting the unspoken words bloom, he chuckled once again, his grip on my thigh tightening with a tantalising force. In one swift motion, he pulled me forward, until I found myself ensconced upon his lap. The unexpectedness of the action electrified the air, sending waves of desire coursing through me, my core pulsating in eager anticipation, yearning for the layers of clothing to vanish, to feel the raw heat of his skin against mine.

"You're asking too many questions, darling," he mused, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and desire. His hands boldly found their place at my hips, sliding beneath the thin fabric of my blazer, their touch sending a jolt of electricity through my entire being.

A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I playfully retorted, "I thought that was my job," my lashes fluttering in a seductive display. Yet, my attempt at teasing seemed to have an unexpected effect on Brian. His hands clamped around me with a vice-like grip, the sensation of his fingers pressing through the fabric of my skirt sending a thrilling jolt through my body.

A low, almost predatory growl rumbled from his throat as he spoke, his voice a dangerous blend of desire and authority. "You're a bit mouthy, aren't you?" he murmured, his words laced with a hint of reprimand. "Just as I thought you were so innocent... sitting there on that stool with this little skirt almost exposing you to the whole world, not knowing a thing about it..." With each word, he pulled me down onto him, the force of his action making it clear that he was taking control. "Thinking I didn't notice that you were staring at me the whole time," he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "And here you are, now sat on my lap, all shaky and needy."

His gaze roamed over my face, observing my every reaction to his sudden shift in demeanour. This was precisely the dynamic I had been seeking, a captivating dance between dominance and submission. The air hummed with an electrifying tension as I found myself entranced by him, surrendering to the intoxicating mix of vulnerability and desire that pulsed between us.

Brian's subtle manoeuvre in his lap caused me to instinctively cling onto his shoulders, seeking stability in the midst of escalating desire. His self-satisfied smirk revealed his pleasure at my reaction, fuelling the fire that raged between us. "There's a few things I want to go through with you before we go any further, sweetheart," he hummed, his hand firmly grasping the back of my neck, drawing me tantalisingly close to his face, our lips hovering inches apart. The anticipation was palpable, my breath hitching in anticipating of his next words. "Have you every been with anyone older before?"

I exhaled softly against his mouth, my eyes half-lidded with a mixture of nervousness and longing. I shook my head slightly, my hands finding solace in the firmness of his shoulders. "Maybe, like, a thirty-year-old, but..." My voice trailed off, the unspoken admission hanging in the air.

"Nobody as old as I am?" he finished my sentence with a knowing smile, fully aware of my unspoken answer. I nodded, my teeth earnestly biting down on my bottom lip, a nervous habit that betrayed my inner turmoil.

"Well, Y/N, I should warn you," he began, his hips abruptly surging against mine, stealing the air from my lungs. The intensity of his touch sent chills coursing through my body. "As an almost-fifty-one-year-old who knows what he's doing, I can guarantee that you will cum at least five times tonight," he purred, his fingers encircling my throat in a gentle yet possessive grip. "And with any luck, you'll struggle to walk out of that door in the morning."

With a swift, decisive movement, our lips finally connected, a torrent of pent-up desire exploding within me. The metaphorical fireworks ignited, their radiant bursts cascading through my body, kindling a symphony of tingles and shivers that coursed from my stomach to my throbbing core. The long-awaited contact between our lips unleashed a tempestuous passion that left me yearning for more.

"Stand up for Daddy," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness. The unexpected pet name he bestowed upon himself sent a surge of excitement through me. It was a name I had imagined slipping from my own lips, and now that he had uttered it, I felt an intoxicating thrill. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine for a brief moment. "You don't mind that, do you?" he asked, his grip on my throat loosening. Even in the midst of our escalating passion, Brian remained considerate and a gentleman.

"I'm more than okay with it," I replied, my voice laced with eagerness. I nodded, a spark of anticipation igniting within me. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he bit down on the lower one, an expression that hinted at the wild desires swirling in his mind.

"I knew you would be perfect for me, you naughty little thing..." he growled, his words laced with a primal hunger. He pressed his lips against mine one last time, a fierce and demanding kiss that left me breathless. With deliberate yet cautious movements, he guided me to stand in front of him. His legs were spread out, and his hands firmly settled on my waist, grounding me in his commanding presence.

"Let's get those clothes off of you," he breathed, his voice husky with anticipation. Sitting up, he leaned back slightly, creating a space for me to step between his legs. His hands roamed my waist, teasing an exploring, as he revelled in the sight before him. "I bet you look mesmerising, you sweet thing," he murmured, his words stirring a fire deep within me.

With Brian's guidance, I slipped off my blazer, letting it fall carelessly beside him on the sofa. My attire consisted of a form-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt, neatly tucked into a sleek black skirt. The fabric of the shirt clung to my body, accentuating every curve and contour, and I could sense Brian's gaze lingering on the enticing view before him.

"Keep going, love," he smoothly instructed, his voice laced with command. With his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa and his other hand resting suggestively over his own clothed arousal, he watched intently as I continued to undress, gradually revealing more of myself.

I slowly unbuttoned the top few buttons of my shirt, exposing a teasing glimpse of the soft skin nestled between my breasts. The fabric parted, revealing a tantalising V-neckline that halted just at the beginning of my cleavage, leaving much to the imagination. Brian's eyes darkened with desire, his focus fixed on the seductive reveal.

Encouraged by his unwavering gaze, I continued to undress, peeling the shirt from my body with deliberate grace. Each movement involved in unzipping and shimmying down my skirt was accompanied a subtle sway of my hips, a deliberate invitation to indulge in the forbidden desires that simmered between us. The shirt slipped off of my shoulders, pooling at my feet, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my underwear, vulnerable and exposed.

Brian's hungry eyes drank in the sight, savouring the contours of my body outlined by the delicate lingerie that adorned it. His breath hitched, and a primal hunger flashed across his face.

"My, my, my..." he mused, his voice a low, throaty rumble. Leaning forward, he focused his gaze on my chest, his eyes lingering on the delicate white lace bra that adorned me, before trailing down to the matching pair of underwear that concealed the very essence of my being—a part of me yearning to be devoured by Brian's primal desire.

A subtle flush of embarrassment tinged my skin, blending with a tingling sense of prospect as I stood before Brian, acutely aware of his gaze that stripped me with its intensity. It was a an undeniable turn-on, this vulnerable exposure, yet I couldn't help but wonder if he desired something more from me.

"Turn around," he commanded, his tone blunt, his finger tracing an authoritative arc in the air. Without hesitation, I obeyed, pivoting silently on my heel until my back was completely exposed to him. And then, in a split second, a fierce sting erupted across my backside, the resounding slap from Brian's hand reverberating through the room. A gasp escaped my lips, mingling with a mixture of surprise, excitement, and a hint of pain.

Brian rose from the sofa, his presence expanding behind me like a towering shadow, and with a firm grip on the band of my underwear, he yanked me back against him. I could feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing forcefully against my backside, the bulge in his trousers growing with each passing moment. Lowering his head, he released a low growl that sent a shiver up through my core, while his other hand firmly grasped my head, tilting it to the side, exposing my vulnerability.

"Good little girls answer their Daddy," he whispered, his voice a seductive blend of dominance of desire. His hand slid around my lower stomach, applying pressure that coerced me to press my backside more firmly into him. "Don't they?"

A gasp hitched in my throat, a mixture of shock and exhilaration coursing through my veins as Brian spoke to me in such a degrading yet intoxicating manner. "Y-yes..."

"Yes, what?" he demanded, his fingers intertwining with my hair, his fists closing with a possessive grip as his lips brushed against the sensitive shell of my ear. "If you want even the slightest taste of the sweet release you crave, you must address me accordingly, little one."

A quivering smile danced upon my lips, an eagerness to comply swirling within me. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he praised, his words hot against my ear, his breath fanning the flames of my desire. Resting the side of his head against mine, he directed his gaze downward, his hand venturing lower, ghosting over my core, teasing and tantalising. "I can't wait to feel your cunt wrap around my cock... I bet you're so tight and warm for me," he murmured, a promise that elicited a suppressed whimper from my lips. "Oh, the thought of that excites you, doesn't it?" he tested, his voice wicked.

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, my voice trembling with a potent mixture of obedience and unquenchable longing.

He chuckled, a sound tinged with satisfaction and amusement at my swift adaptation to our dynamic. "That's a good girl," he breathed against the sensitive skin of my neck, his lips claiming me with a fervent, sloppy kiss before abruptly releasing me, leaving me yearning for his touch and craving more.

"Stand back a little," Brian's voice commanded, an authoritative tone that brooked no resistance. I complied, taking a step back, my anticipation mounting as he took control. With a swift movement, he spun me around, his hands asserting their presence on my body, yet withholding any intimate touch. The air crackled with an electric charge, heavy with unspoken desire.

"No touching until I say," he declared, his voice laced with a mixture of authority and anticipation. Stepping back himself, he lowered his hands to his belt, his gaze never wavering from mine as he skilfully unbuckled and unzipped his trousers. The sound of the metal against metal reverberated in the room, heightening the intensity of the moment. His trousers cascaded down to his knees, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his bare flesh, while his shirt billowed around him, hinting at the hidden secrets it concealed. He stepped out of the confines of his restrictive clothes, gracefully kicking them aside, leaving him standing before me in only his partially unbuttoned shirt.

My eyes couldn't help but be drawn downward, magnetically pulled to the sight of his own underwear. His bulge, sizable and still growing, strained against the fabric, a visual testament to the desire that consumed him. Heat flushed through my veins, a mixture of nervous anticipation and a primal hunger to taste him.

"I'm assuming you've given somebody a blowjob before, yes?" Brian's voice cut through the charged silence, his head tilted in a patronizing yet knowing manner. His words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation entwined. He awaited my response, his eyes burning with a mixture of curiosity and desire, never once breaking our unyielding eye contact.

A tremor of excitement coursed through me, mingling with a tinge of apprehension. I nodded, my voice momentarily stolen by the intensity of the moment, my desire to please him amplifying with each passing second.

"Yes, Daddy," I finally managed to respond, the breathless admission hanging in the air, a testament to the intimate encounters of my past.

A predatory smile tugged at the corners of Brian's lips, a gleam of satisfaction illuminating his gaze. The flicker of dominance danced in his eyes as he took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between us. The bulge in his underwear pressed against my senses, a physical manifestation of his hunger and anticipation.

"Good," he murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire.

I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside me, and I couldn't help but shuffle side to side to deal with the intense desire to get my hands or my mouth on Brian's arousal, especially when he moved to sit back against the sofa.

"Please can I taste you, Daddy?" I whispered, glancing up at him with an innocent expression.

He hummed, his hand coming down to move some of my hair out of my face. "So good, asking for permission," he praised, lowering his head and biting a little into my shoulder before turning his head and growling back into my ear. "I want you on all-fours, looking up at me with those pretty fucking eyes."

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned just at his response, but was quick to do as I was told, moving back to give myself space to do as I was told, whilst he got to work in removing his underwear from his body. I arched my back, showing off the round of my curves for him like I noticed he enjoyed so much. He took his length his hand, giving it a few strokes before shuffling forward a few inches. I couldn't stop staring at its appearance, pulsating, red, veiny, and everything I dreamed it would be. I took the hint and propped myself up on one hand, using the other to move my hair from my face, before finally leaning forward and licking from the base, right up the pronounced vain on his shaft, and up to the tip. I teased him, glancing up at him as I slowly flicked my tongue over the redness. I could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum already, which only encouraged me to keep going. But apparently, the teasing wasn't enough.

"Oh, you don't want to tease Daddy, little one," he drawled, one hand coming behind my head to tangle his fingers once again in my hair. "I have to feel your mouth all over my cock, alright?" His natural dominance was toned back, and I could tell that he was testing where my comfort level was. But I was too far in my comfort zone here. So, I pushed him.

With a mischievous smirk, I only wrapped my lips around his tip, sucking ever so slightly.

"You really want to play games?" He asked with an amused tinge to his voice. He chuckled, right before he pushed my head further down, causing his cock to slide into my mouth and to my throat as far as it could go, a gag automatically sounding from my throat. It made my core throb yet again.

His grip loosened briefly, in order to breathily ask me if this was okay. I hummed around his cock in confirmation, my eyes peering up at him the best they could. Just like that, he knew where my head was at, and his grip resumed, and his hips drew back, just to thrust back again. He showed me – demonstrated – the pace he wanted, and I was obliged to deliver.

Once I had my head bobbing along his shaft how he wanted, my hand wrapped firmly around the base, my gag reflex had been temporarily diverted, but not completely eradicated. Brian, however, smacked my hand away from him, making me keep my hands down on my knees and allow him to force himself however far into my mouth as he wanted.

As my mouth encased the warm length, my own arousal picked back up, feeling myself clenching around nothing and wishing his cock was balls deep inside me. But that only encouraged me to do a better job on him. I found myself moaning as his taste, the way he grunted and breathed above me. I'd never heard anyone sound so fucking beautiful.

"That's it, baby... Fuck," he groaned, his jaw clenched in sheer ecstasy. "Let me see that pretty face, Y/N." His request fuelled my desperation and desire to please him. With a whimper, I adjusted my position slightly, ensuring that my movements on his cock remained relentless, my lips tightly sealed around him.

As I complied with his command, my eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, aware of the redness that had undoubtedly consumed them. My lips, swollen from our passionate kisses and the way they enveloped him, added to the visual proof of our intense connection. Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes, a mix of pleasure, vulnerability, and overwhelming sensations.

However, what truly pushed me to the brink of desperation was the sight of him. He looked like a god, an ethereal being of pleasure and dominance. His hair fell forward, framing his face as he gazed down at me. His mouth was slightly open, allowing soft moans and growls to escape. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, a testament to his state of euphoria. His heavy-lidded eyes exuded a mix of desire and satisfaction, capturing me in a moment of profound intensity.

"Such a beautiful little slut, aren't you?" He sighed, running his hand back through my hair to bunch it up at the back, helping me through my pace. "Yeah... such a good girl for Daddy..." He mumbled, mostly to himself as his eyes looked back at my backside. His free hand reached forward and felt over my curves until he reached his destination, grabbing a handful before lifting and landing his palm against the skin with a forceful smack. It sent me moaning and whimpering yet again, the small sting sending shocks to my arousal and shivers to my skin. He did it again, this time a lot harder. He must have been testing the waters beforehand. I flinched this time, my back arching more.

I whined, the hand that was propping me up gripping into the bedsheets as I tried my very best not to rub my thighs together for friction I so desperately needed. Brian took notice and let go of my hair, pulling his cock from my mouth. A string of saliva still connected us, and my face was completely fucked out.

"Look at you, darling," he purred, taking a hold of my face with one hand and pressing my cheeks together. "You enjoyed having my cock in your mouth, didn't you?" With a deliberate slowness, he traced his thumb over my swollen lower lip, savouring the aftermath of our intimate encounter. It was a silent question, a rhetorical inquiry that required no verbal response. Instead, I responded with a breathless nod, my eyes locked on his, conveying my pleasure and desire.

But in an unexpected twist, his hand swiftly left my lip, and a sharp, stinging sensation erupted on the side of my face. A decent slap, delivered with purpose, but cautiously landed, not giving his all in the event that I wasn't into that kind of treatment. Of course, I would let this man do anything to me.

The impact took me by surprise, integrating with the haze of pleasure. Yet, as quickly as the pain registered, he seized me once again, his grip possessive and firm. His actions were a reminder of his control, a reminder that I existed in this moment solely for his pleasure. It was a moment of sharp contrast, the pain mingling with desire, further fuelling the intensity of our connection. "What did I say about answering Daddy?"

"Yes, Daddy—sorry, Daddy," I breathed out, looking up at him with watery eyes. "Can I have more, Daddy?" I batted my eyelashes.

Releasing his hold on me, he sat forward, his shirt clinging to his body, evidence of the sweat that adorned his skin. With a purposeful motion, he discarded the garment, revealing the glistening contours of his middle-aged physique. Rising to his feet, he positioned himself near the edge of the sofa, his foot resting upon the plush surface for support. His hand encircled his throbbing cock, exerting a firm grip as he glided his fist along its length, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure.

"What are you waiting for? Show me what you're capable of," he commanded, his voice laced with a potent mixture of authority and desire. His invitation beckoned me forward, and without hesitation, I eagerly reattached my mouth to him, my lips enveloping his engorged length. Balancing myself on the edge of the sofa so I could reach him, I rested my hands on the sofa, surrendering to the primal rhythm that coursed through us.

Brian's hand gathered a handful of my hair at the back of my head, ensuring a firm grip as he began to thrust into my mouth with abandon. He paid no mind to the reddened hue of my eyes, nor the cascades of saliva that spilled from my lips, consumed by the raw pleasure that surged between us. Each forceful thrust of his hips sent a jolt of ecstasy through my being, a delicious combination of pleasure and submission. The intensity of our connection intensified, the boundaries of control blurring as we surrendered to our most primal desires.

"Do a good job, and then Daddy will make you cum all over his tongue, okay?" He moaned down at me, making me nod, and whine a muffled "Yes, Daddy," with his cock still shoved in my mouth.

I maintained my position, allowing him to forcefully thrust into my throat, my head held firmly in place by his unyielding grip. I looked up at him through teary eyes, my face glistening with a mixture of saliva and tears, a testament to the depths of pleasure and submission I was experiencing.

The sound of his hissing voice filled the air, blending with his deep groans of satisfaction. "Yes... So perfect," he gasped, overcome by the intense sensation of my mouth enveloping him. The mixture of pain and pleasure, dominance and surrender, fuelled the fiery connection between us, heightening the raw, primal energy of the moment.

I felt his thigh shake beside my head, and he pulled my head all the way down onto his cock, my nose pushing into the mass of pubic hair at the base of his arousal. I let out a heavy breath, closing my eyes and relaxing my throat to allow him to slide down it with ease. Then, without warning, he yanked me back, his cock completely slipping out of my mouth. It was glistening with a mixture of my thickening saliva and his pre-cum, matching with the way my lips sparkled with the same kind of adventure.

Gasping for breath, I found myself being pulled up to my feet by the firm grip of Brian's hand, entwined in my hair. The forceful manner in which he yanked me upright only heightened the intensity of our encounter. Our lips crashed together once again, igniting a wild and insatiable passion that consumed us both.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a raw display of desire, marked by urgency and need. Our mouths melded together in a feverish dance, tongues clashing and intertwining in a desperate battle for dominance. It was as if Brian couldn't get enough of the taste, eagerly seeking to reclaim a trace of himself on my lips.

Every swipe and flick of his tongue against mine sent electric jolts of pleasure surging through my body. The hunger in his kiss matched the fiery desire coursing through my veins, building an intoxicating tension that threatened to consume us both. Our lips and tongues moved in a frenzy, an unspoken declaration of our insatiable lust. It made me wonder what his lips and his tongue would feel like on my aching core.

With one hand wrapped around my throat, he pulled me back enough to speak to me. "Get on the bed for me, love," he demanded softly, letting me go and pushing me slightly in the direction of the bed.

"Yes, Daddy," I obeyed, swiftly turning and heading for the large king-sized bed. I lowered myself onto the sleek silk, my heart pounding in raging lust as my core continued to flutter and tighten at the pure thought of being devoured by Brian. "You sucked Daddy's cock so well, little one," he praised with a patronising flare, as he slowly made his way towards me, closing in on me like I was some sort of prey for the taking. He stopped right in front of me, leaning down so both of his hands were placed flat on the surface of the bed, and his face was mere inches from mine. "Do you think you deserve to have my face buried between your legs, baby?"

His question stirred a whirlwind of sensations within me, causing my entire body to tremble with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. My thighs involuntarily clenched, and a breathy sigh escaped my quivering lips. Brian had a way of rendering me speechless, making it nearly impossible to form coherent words as I struggled to catch my breath against his intoxicating lips.

"So precious. I get you this hot, you can't even speak," he hummed, amusement dancing in his voice. One hand found its way back to my throat, asserting his dominance over me. His thumb grazed over my lower lip, teasing it down and allowing it to spring back against my teeth. Leaning closer, he guided me down onto my back, his presence looming over me like a commanding giant.

Once he fully hovered above me, his aura radiating power and desire, he whispered with a menacing grunt that sent shivers down my spine. His words held a primal hunger, a promise of untamed pleasure.

"Would you like Daddy to taste your sweet pussy, darling?"

The question enough made me writhe a little under him, and I whined a small "Yes please, Daddy" up at him, making him chuckle and shoot me that sexy smile of his.

"Stay there," he whispered, his voice laced with a commanding edge. With a swift motion, he pulled himself up to his feet, his strong hands gripping my ankles firmly. I felt myself being effortlessly dragged to the edge of the bed, my legs hanging over the edge. The anticipation prickled across my skin as he took a moment to appraise me, his eyes roaming hungrily over my half-naked form.

His fingers hooked into the band of my underwear, and in one fluid motion, he tugged them down my legs, leaving me completely bare from the waist down. The sudden exposure left me feeling vulnerable, every inch of my body open and ready for his intimate exploration. I could feel the cool air caress my heated skin, heightening my senses and intensifying the anticipation that pulsed through me.

His touch ignited a fiery sensation across my skin as he parted my legs, positioning my knees closer to my chest. The intimate vulnerability of my exposed core made my heart race. The throbbing of my clit intensified, yearning for the exquisite sensation of his lips wrapping around it, ready to be devoured by the force of his desire.

His fingertips trailed a tantalising path down the back of my thighs, leaving a trail of electric sparks in their wake. The pressure he applied against my legs urged me to instinctively open up for him, surrendering myself to his skilled ministrations.

As he lowered himself to his knees, his breath caressed my most sensitive flesh, sending shivers cascading through my body. The warmth of his breath teased and enveloped me, igniting a primal desire that caused my breathing to quicken in sync with the mounting tension.

The realisation struck me with a jolt. Few men I had been with had truly taken the time to explore the depths of my pleasure. But Brian was different. He possessed an insatiable hunger to please me, to delve into the realm of my desires. To show me he was capable, at his age, of making a young thing writhe and arch at his talents. This was not a mere obligation but a ravenous craving that consumed him, a thirst that he longed to quench with my pleasure as his ultimate reward.

I felt a surge of gratitude for Brian's genuine desire to please me. It was a rarity, a precious gift that I would savour with every fibre of my being. The weight of his intention settled over me, heightening the anticipation that coursed through my veins.

His hands moved with purpose, exploring the contours of my thighs, tracing delicate patterned that elicited soft moans from my lips. I felt my body responding to his touch, arching instinctively, seeking more of his caress. The intensity of his focus ignited a fire within me, fuelling the craving for his skilled tongue to explore me.

With a deliberate yet tender touch, Brian's fingers found their way to my most intimate core. His fingertips danced along the wetness that coated my folds, teasing and tantalising, as if he were an artist painting strokes of desire upon my canvas. Each stroke of his touch sent ripples of pleasure cascading through me, building the intensity with each passing second.

The room was filled with an intoxicating mix of our shared breaths and the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. Every nerve in my body stood at attention, poised for the exquisite release that awaited me. I closed my eyes, surrendering myself to the sensations that enveloped me, allowing the anticipation to swell and consume me.

And then, with a flicker of his tongue, Brian made contact with my swollen, throbbing clit. The jolt of pleasure shot through me, causing my back to arch and a gasp of pleasure to escape my lips. His skilful tongue explored every crevice, every delicate fold, igniting an inferno of sensation that spiralled within me.

I lost myself in the maelstrom of pleasure, my fingers grasping the sheets beneath me as waves of ecstasy crashed over my body. Brian's rhythmic movements, a symphony of pleasure orchestrated by his expert tongue, bringing me closer to the brink of oblivion.

Brian, ever the master of control, sensed the depths of my pleasure and revelled in his power over me. He intensified his assault on my sensitive nub, his tongue swirling and flicking with unrelenting precision. Each stroke, each caress, pushed me closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As the intensity mounted, I could feel the coil of desire winding tighter within me. My body trembled with anticipation, my moans growing louder and louder, more and more urgent. Brian's grip on my thighs tightened, a silent command to surrender completely to the overwhelming pleasure he was orchestrating.

I was teetering on the precipice, my entire being consumed by the need for release. But just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, Brian pulled back, denying me that final plunge into ecstasy. The absence of his touch left me achingly empty, my body pulsating with unfulfilled desire.

With a predatory glint in his eyes, Brian rose to his full height, his dominance radiating from every pore. He seized my wrists and effortlessly pinned them above my head, his strength asserting his control over my quivering body. I was at his mercy, my desire reaching a fever pitch as I yearned for his next move.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a low, commanding growl. "You think I'm going to let you cum that easily, my little plaything?" he whispered, the words igniting a fierce ache deep within me. "No, my sweet, I'm going to make you beg for it."

His words sent a shockwave down my spine, my breath catching in my throat. I wanted to plead, to beg for release, but he silenced me with his dominance. He relished in the power he held over me, revelling in my desperation.

With a deliberate slowness that bordered on torturous, Brian trailed his fingers along the length of my body, tantalisingly close to where I craved his touch the most. Every nerve in my body screamed for his contact, my hips instinctively arching toward him, begging for his release.

But Brian was in control, and he dictated the pace. He continued his maddening exploration, his touch teasingly light as he traced circles on my inner thighs. The anticipation grew unbearable, my need for release becoming an all-consuming ache that threatened to overwhelm me.

Finally, just when I thought I could take no more, Brian yielded to my pleading body. His fingers found their way to my throbbing core, delving deep into my wetness. The penetration was swift and intense, a primal connection that shattered any remnants of self-control.

He moved with an effortless rhythm, his fingers expertly stroking every sensitive spot within me. "How tight you are, sweetheart... definitely need to warm you up a bit before I stretch you out," he moaned down at me, the pleasure coursing through my veins and my body convulsing beneath his touch. I writhed against his unyielding grip, lost in the sea of sensations that consumed me.

"D-Daddy..." I whined, my head pressing back into the silk sheets. "Feels so good..." Was all I could whimper out as his two fingers sloppily stroked inside me, generating the lewdest of noises. I was no longer an individual, but a vessel of desire, completely surrendered to his command. "Yes..." I hissed, my back arching.

"You almost there, angel?" He looked down at me, moving his head to meet my gaze and mirroring my whimpering breaths. "You gonna cum on my fingers like a good girl for Daddy?"

I nodded feverishly at him. "Yes, Daddy, I'm gonna cum so hard... Please, c-can I cum, Daddy?" I plead, looking up at him with innocent eyes. He bit on his lip hard, his gaze averting down to where his fingers connected with my body, enjoying the sight.

"I did promise you at lease five orgasms, didn't I?" He started, each question rhetorical. "I would be a pretty lousy daddy if I let you go without fulfilling those promises, wouldn't I?" He looked back up at me, his eyes as black as anything. "Cum around my fingers, sweetheart."

With a commanding nod from Brian, a surge of desire shot through my veins, compelling me to yield his dominance. My jaw slackened, and my back arched painfully as an intense pleasure coursed through my core, tightening, and pulsating around his lengthy middle fingers.

"God, you feel so good," Brian growled, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Squeeze around me, baby. Show Daddy how much you enjoy it."

A whimper escaped my lips as I obediently clenched around his fingers, my body quivering with mounting pleasure. My thighs instinctively clenched around Brian's wrist, attempting to hold on to the overwhelming sensations that threatened to consume me.

"Relax those pretty thighs, darling," Brian commanded, his voice dripping with authority. "I want you completely open for me. I want to see every tremor of pleasure."

I fought against the instinct to resist, forcing my thighs to loosen their grip, granting him unrestricted access to my pleasure. Waves of numbing ecstasy washed over me, rendering me breathless and lost in a state of euphoria.

I could hear the wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me, the slick friction only adding to the intensity of the moment. Each deliberate stroke pushed me closer to the edge, my body teetering on the precipice of release.

Brian's husky voice filled the air. "Cum for me, baby. Let yourself go."

The words echoed in my ears, igniting a surge of desire and surrender within me. The coil of tension within me tightened to its breaking point, until finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. My entire being convulsed with pleasure as a powerful climax consumed me, leaving me breathless and trembling in the wake of the intensity.

Brian forcefully withdrew his fingers from my throbbing core, causing me to gasp in both pleasure and loss. He didn't waste a second before shoving those glistening digits into my mouth, filling me up and silencing any protest with his dominance.

I moaned around his fingers, my eyes watering with a mix of desire and submission. The taste of my own arousal mingled with the salty tang of his skin, creating a sinful concoction that fuelled my insatiable hunger.

"Open wide, my obedient little slut," Brian growled. "Taste yourself. Show me how much you crave me."

I obediently parted my lips wider, taking my fingers deeper, feeling them brush against the back of my throat. The overwhelming sensations threatened me, my senses heightened by the knowledge that I was at his mercy.

I clung desperately to his wrist, my nails digging into his flesh, seeking an anchor in the midst of this dizzying pleasure. The taste, the submission, the raw power he exerted over me, it all blended into an intoxicating cocktail that pushed me further into the depths of desire.

Brian's eyes bore into mine, their intensity burning like a searing flame. He relished in the sight of my vulnerability, the surrender etched across my face. I could see the hunger in his gaze, the hunger to possess me completely, to claim me as his own.

As my body trembled with the aftershocks of my release, Brian's grip on me tightened, his dominance unwavering. He knew we were far from done, that the fire between us still raged, demanding to me stoked.

"You're mine tonight, and I'm not done with you," Brian growled, his voice laced with a primal hunger. "You belong to me, body and soul." He took his fingers from my mouth, moving some hair out my sweat-sheened face. "I need to be inside you, pretty thing," he breathed, kissing me sloppily before pulling himself up onto his knees. "Hands and knees," he once again did that thing with his finger, spinning it in a silent command that I acquiesced to without question. I weakly held myself up in an all-fours position, Brian stalking behind me.

Unable to see him, I could only imagine his gaze raking over my exposed form, his hunger growing with each passing moment. A low, primal grunt escaped his lips, a telltale sign of the torturous pleasure he was inflicting upon himself, stroking his hand along his length, relishing in the decadent excitement.

The air crackled with tension as he closed the distance, the bed shaking with his movements. I could sense his presence behind me, his heated breath caressing the nape of my neck as he leaned over me. The promise of his possession hung in the air, electrifying and intoxicating.

"You're so eager, my little temptress," he growled in a seductive rumble against my ear. "You've been aching for me, haven't you? Since you knew how to... They all ache for me like this, but you're so lucky to have me behind you, about to stretch all of you out with my cock."

My body trembled in response, craving the euphoria only he could provide. "Are you on the pill?" I promptly nodded back at him, just needing him to be inside of me already.

And then, without warning, I felt the tantalising pressure of his length at my entrance. He teased me, brushing against my slick folds, denying me the fullness I craved. It was a torment that pushed me to the edge of madness, but I knew it was all part of his exquisite control.

"Please, Daddy... I need to feel you," I practically cried out, my hips wiggling a little.

The moment stretched out, time suspended in a haze of desire. And then, in one swift, powerful thrust, he claimed me as his own. Pleasure and pain collided within me, a symphony of sensations that left me gasping for breath. The world dissolved into a symphony of moans and carnal pleasure as we became entwined for the first time.

"Jesus Christ..." he exhaled. "You surpass every fantasy, darling," he praised, his hands firmly gripping my hips, guiding me backwards to meet his initial thrust. "Does it hurt, love?"

A strained whimper escaped my lips as I lowered my head, my senses overwhelmed by the intense sensation of his cock filling me, stretching me with its commanding presence. "Just a bit..." I confessed, my words barely audible in a whisper. "But... I-I like it."

"Of course you do," he chuckled darkly, savouring the power he held over me. He withdrew, creating a fleeting void within me, only to reclaim it with a forceful thrust that elicited a gasp of pleasure. His movements grew rougher, a deliberate test to gauge my response. "You're such a dirty, naughty little girl, aren't you?"

He continued with a relentless rhythm, each thrust penetrating deeper, igniting a primal fire within me. My body quivered under his command, surrendering to the pleasure he bestowed upon me. The room filled with the sounds of our joining, a symphony of moans and the wet, rhythmic slapping of our bodies colliding.

Brian's grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh, marking me as his. With each forceful thrust, I could feel his power and dominance asserting itself, claiming me completely. I was his vessel, a conduit for his pleasure and my own.

"You were made for this, my sweet." He placed a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me down, causing me to collapse onto my upper body, my back arching deliciously, and making Brian's thrusts hit me deeper than ever, which made me practically scream out in ecstasy. "There you go... I was waiting for you to scream for me," he breathed through a smug grin. "Now, lets see if I can get you to cum like this, then..."

With an insatiable hunger, Brian embarked on a relentless rampage of lust, thrusting into me with an unbridled force that left me breathless. The sound of our bodies colliding echoed through the room, mingling with the symphony of my moans and the lewd expletives that escaped my lips.

My senses were overwhelmed as pleasure surged through every fibre of my being. I surrendered completely to the symphony of sensations, losing myself in the wild rhythm of Brian's hips. As the pleasure built within me, I could feel the familiar stirrings of my second release. The excitement swelled, my breathing grew heavy and shallow, and I instinctively laid my head to the side on the cool pillows. My entire body moved and jolted forward with every powerful thrust that Brian delivered. I clung to the sheets, my fingers gripping them tightly.

"Yes, yes... Fuck, right there, Daddy," I moaned, my mouth hanging open as he hit every right spot within me. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum again, Daddy, please—“

"That's right, baby, let me feel you cum on my cock," he encouraged with a breathless exalt. He sent a sharp slap to the side of my arse, which edged me even closure. "Come on," he coaxed me, railing into me with a more viscous vigour, his hands pulling me against him with each thrust.

With each passing moment, the intensity escalated, pushing me closer to the edge of another mind-shattering climax. Brian's expertise and unrelenting passion drove me closer and closer, his actions meticulously calculated to elicit the most profound response from my quivering body.

The world around us faded into insignificance as I teetered on the brink. I was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, my mind consumed by pleasure, and all that mattered was the overwhelming connection between us.

And then it happened. The dam within me burst, unleashing a torrent of ecstasy that washed over me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my voice a symphony of raw desire and fulfilment. My body convulsed in rapture, every nerve ending ignited in a frenzy of pleasure.

Brian's thrusts continued, prolonging the ecstasy, each movement pushing me further into the depths of euphoria.

However, he didn't allow me a moment to catch my breath. With an almost frantic urgency, Brian swiftly positioned himself beneath me, his face now nestled between my legs. His hands gripped onto me, pulling me upwards until I was straddling his face, fully exposed to his hungry mouth. His lips claimed me once more, his skilled tongue lapping at my folds, delving deep into my entrance.

I couldn't help but run my fingers through my hair, my head falling back as the overwhelming stimulation consumed me. Brian was relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure, determined to extract another orgasm from my quivering body. He disregarded the fact that I hadn't fully recovered from the last climax, his singular focus on pushing me to new heights of ecstasy.

There was no room for hesitations or reservations. It was a raw and primal exchange, a symphony of desire and surrender. Brian's hunger for my pleasure was insatiable, his actions an unspoken command for me to abandon myself completely to the sensations coursing through me.

As I shifted my hips, I felt the firm contour of his nose glide teasingly over my sensitive clit. A surge of pleasure shot through me, and I seized the opportunity to use it to my advantage. Brian recognised my intentions and eagerly encouraged my movements. His hands gripped my backside, guiding me to grind against his face, his nose and tongue working in perfect harmony to ignite the most exquisite sensations within me.

Every glide and stroke over my swollen and aroused nub sent waves of pleasure crashing through me. I surrendered to the primal rhythm, my hips undulating in sync with Brian's skilful ministrations. His tongue ventured deeper, exploring the depths of my core with a fervour that matched my own mounting desire.

The air was thick with the heady scent of arousal, mingling with the sounds of our shared passion. Moans and gasps filled the room, a testament to the intensity of the connection we shared. In this moment, there was no room for pretence or inhibition. It was an unadulterated celebration of pleasure.

Time lost all meaning as the sensations intensified. I was on the precipice once more, teetering on the edge of an impending release. The world narrowed down to the overwhelming pleasure radiating from my core, the delicious torment building within me.

"O-Oh, shit... Br—Daddy," I mewled, looking down and seeing Brian's eyes glaring up at me, with a knowing look. He growled against me, now moving his head against me to intensify the feeling of his nose against my clit. And just like that, another climax ripped through me like a stampede of hormones. But he didn't stop, like I thought he might have. He flipped us over, so that I was now laid with my head on the pillows, looking up at the ceiling with his head still firmly shoved between my legs.

"Oh, God..." I weakly stuttered, the pain from the sensitivity unfolding into another type of pleasure altogether. The baby hairs on my head clung to my forehead, my skin flushed light pink and starting to glimmer ever so slightly with a light sheen of sweat.

Brian grunted with determination, continuing his movements on me, his fingers slipping inside me and continuing with a heavy ministration. The free hand that wasn't holding me firmly in place, yanking me even closer to him, now travelled up to my chest, using every ounce of his strength to pull down my bra, not bothering with unhooking it beforehand. He seemed to hold onto it for leverage. My whines and moans were totally unfiltered by this point, but I didn't give a single fuck.

The small glance I made down at him showed his head moving along with the motions of his tongue, completely in a world of his own as he went down on me. It made me feel better knowing he enjoyed it seemingly as much as I did.

My thighs were starting to shake uncontrollably as well as the rest of my legs, the combination of the sensitivity and the brief visual I just got of him was edging me closer and closer to another release. Already.

"Holy fuck, Daddy, I'm gonna cum again..." I groaned out one of my arms laying out on the bed beside me. My eyes shut as I revelled in this feeling. Most of my body went completely numb, but I was able to feel my forbidden, scandalous, older lover's free hand slide into mine, intertwining our fingers together. It was such a small, subtle action, but it made my heart flutter and my core clench deliciously. I squeezed onto his hand, my nails digging into the back of his as I started to grind my hips against his face.

I didn't even anticipate my second release; it happened so fast and sudden.

My voice broke and cracked as I whined out, this climax much more intense than the last one. My back was not the only part of my body that arched off the bed this time; this time, my hips rose off the bed, seemingly having a mind of their own as Brian stayed attached to me. He let me ride out the cluster of orgasms he'd just given me before eventually lifting his head up from between my legs. I was still recovering, my head buzzing and my body still tingling. I didn't even realise that Brian was crawling up and over me, watching me try to recover from that mind-altering experience.

He granted me a brief respite, allowing me to descend from the dizzying heights of pleasure. But just as I began to regain a semblance of control, he swiftly reclaimed it, his grip tightening around the back of my neck. With a commanding tone, he ordered, "Open up, love..."

My body trembled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability as I obediently parted my lips, ready to receive his intimate offering. Brian provocatively gathered saliva in his mouth, savouring the lewd act before releasing a single droplet into my waiting mouth. The taste of him mingled with my own essence, an intoxicating blend that sent shivers down my spine

"Do you have any idea how amazing you taste, sweetheart?" he purred, his voice laced with a breathless whine. The audaciousness of the act ignited a forbidden desire within me, a thrill that I had never experienced before. In this moment, with Brian, I revelled in the taboo nature of our encounter, embracing the depths of my desires without reservation.

His unyielding gaze never faltered, and as his hand descended to his throbbing shaft, a wicket smile played upon his lips. He dragged his slick length over my sensitive core, causing me to tremble with the onslaught of pleasure. The delicate touch against my clit sent electric shocks surging through my body, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

Without delay, Brian pressed forward, his cock sliding effortlessly into my eager depths. A guttural moan escaped my lips, merging with his deep growl of satisfaction. "One more, my perfect little thing," he whispered, his voice thick with desire and dominance. He increased the tempo of his thrusts, each one driving us closer to the edge of oblivion. Our bodies collided with a symphony of flesh, a crescendo of passion that echoed through the room, fuelling his insatiable hunger for release.

I locked eyes with him, our gazes merging in a dance of primal desire. His sculpted form glistened with a sheen of perspiration, his dishevelled hair framing his face in a wild halo, and his jaw clenched with unrelenting determination. He embodied raw masculinity, and untamed force that overwhelmed my senses.

As our bodies moved in perfect synchrony, the tension grew with each passing second. The room became a sanctuary of pleasure, filled with the cacophony of our moans and the intoxicating scent of our arousal. Every thrust brought us closer to the precipice, our shared climax shimmering on the horizon, a tantalising promise that held us captive.

"Oh God, Brian," I gasped, losing the pet name, the closer I got to what would be an other-worldly release.

He met my subtle plea with a wicked grin, his thrusts growing more forceful, driving us to the brink. "Hold on tight, darling," he rasped, his voice dripping with carnal hunger.

With each primal thrust, the crescendo rose, pleasure and ecstasy threatening to consume us. I clung to him, my nails digging into his flesh.

"Cum for me, one last time, baby, I know you can do it for Daddy," he reaffirmed one last time. And in the final crescendo, time stood still. Our bodies moved as one, a frenzy of need and desire. The air crackled with electricity, the room filled with the sound of our moans mingling, our rhythm reaching a fevered pitch.

And then, with a primal roar, we shattered. A surge of ecstasy coursed through me, radiating from the depths of my core to every sinch of my being. It was an earth-shattering climax, an explosion of pleasure that consumed us both, obliterating any thought or sense of self.

As waves washed over us, our bodies convulsed in tandem, locked in a euphoric embrace. My mouth hung open, and broken cries fell from it, as I experienced the most intense, harsh orgasm of my life.

"Fuuuck!" Brian's animalistic growl rang in the air, as he stilled inside me, shooting his thick load deep within me. Brian May's release. Inside of me. He clung to me, dropping his head down to bury his face in my neck as he slowed his thrusts. He let out whimpers of his come down, his arms wrapped tightly around me.

As our laboured breaths mingled in the air, a moment of surprise interrupted the post-coital haze. Sensing a different sensation, I glanced down, my tired eyes widening in disbelief. A pool of wetness glistened beneath me, evidence of an uncharted territory of pleasure.

"Oh, God..." I gasped, my face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and astonishment. I instinctively covered my face, overwhelmed by the unexpected release. Brian, still catching his breath, followed my gaze, his expression shifting from confusion to a knowing smile.

Chuckling softly, he gently removed my hands from my blushing face, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and amusement. With tender reassurance, he pressed a loving peck on my nose before capturing my lips in a lingering kiss.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice laced with affectionate amusement. "You've been with the wrong people if they've never made you squirt before."

With a smug smirk at his accomplishment, he swiftly stood up from the bed, momentarily disappearing into the bathroom and then returning a short while after with a small face cloth. He kneeled in front of me, placing one hand on my knee and gently guiding it to the side so he could have access to me. He was clearly experienced in this, and it made me blush as he cleaned me up; he did it as slow as ever, his eyes feasting upon my worn-out state. After all, he had just given me five mind-altering orgasms. Just as promised.

"There we go," he sighed, throwing the cloth to the side and leaning down above me. "All perfect," he gave me another heated kiss, his tongue rolling into my mouth sensually, making my eyes flutter shut. He broke the kiss and smirked down at me. "Happy you didn't get on the Euro?"

"Definitely," I breathed out with an airy laugh. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting this to happen today..." I bit my lip, for some reason finding it difficult to look him in the eyes.

"I'll be honest, I didn't either," he chuckled, moving beside me and pulling me into his side.

The only thing now was figuring out how to leave. Surely, there'd have to be that conversation. And surely, he didn't want me staying there. After all, he was a renowned rock star, in a committed relationship with someone much closer to his own age, on a press tour, eyes on him 24/7.

"What's going on up there, love?" He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at me. "I'm not throwing you out, if that's what you're wondering."

I looked at him, shocked. "Really?"

He laughed down at me smoothly, admiring my innocent state. "Of course not. Why would I get rid of something so perfect?" He purred down at me. My perplexity stayed, but I lacked the energy to question him further.

"We'll talk in the morning, sweet thing," he stroked over my hair. "Now, I think we should sleep."

Like a train conductor, he commanded our every act, and we did exactly that. Sleeping next to Brian May in a luxury hotel in Germany, after being pummelled into the mattress of his king-size bed, was so much better of an alternative to staying in a three-star hotel with colleagues that would reprimand me non-stop for my slip up at the studio. I hadn't even received a call from Candice to check up on me, or ask where I was, since I did disappear without notifying anybody.

I must have overslept, since by the time morning rolled around, the bed felt ominously cold and void of any other human presence. I fluttered my eyes open, stretching my arm out instinctively to find that Brian was no longer beside me. But as I came round, I noticed a piece of paper sat delicately on the bedside table. I tiredly sat up, crawling over to it and picking it up, letting my eyes gaze over the pristine cursive that adorned its surface.

Y/N,

Last night was incredible, and I found myself sat awake in the early hours of this morning, whilst you slept beside me. You looked so perfect and at ease. Anyway, I had to run out and get some stuff done this morning, but don't worry, my perfect Y/N, you stay right where you are, and I shall be back before midday. In the meantime, order room service, take a shower, do whatever you need to do. And maybe call that old sow from the studio and tell her you quit. I needed a new PR person, anyway. And you? You're perfect for me.

See you later, sweet girl.

Bri x

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[vrmxlho]

SEASON OF LOVE - FAKE DATING

pairing: isagi x gn! reader

day 1 ← masterlist → day 3

what the actual fuck you thought. in fact, you were so pissed you didn't just think this but you actually voiced it out. "what the actual fuck is this?" you whispered.

your friend had just texted you with a screenshot from a stupid gossip page that had been on your back for months now. it read the following: why is pro footballer isagi yoichi trying to hide his new model partner? they're hot!

the hot, bright screen seems to be burning your palms with how tightly you were gripping your phone. the short hiatus author 'sly scoop' had taken made you believe that you were finally free from the nasty, untrue rumours being spread. but, god, were wrong.

you had been out with your acquaintance isagi purely as an accident. the two of you had just happened to have dinner at the same restaurant and had walked out together. sure, it seemed like a date. but it really wasn't. you barely spoke. heck you didn't even have each other's personal numbers. perhaps you were mutuals on instagram but really he was just a friend of a friend.

that didn't matter now. this had to be sorted out. so you called. of course, he'd pick up once he saw the forwarded message of the clipping.

"hey i just saw..."

"yeah i saw it too." he sighed. it wasn't the first time he was caught up in a petty dating scandal and it surely wasn't your first either.

but it felt different this time.

like this could actually cause some bigger scandal in the near future. after all, he was a world-class football player, and anyone who got caught up in their lives was bound to be bombarded with death threats from crazy fanatics or approached by journalists at every turn. you weren't up for it.

you already found it hard keeping up with all the flashing lights and cameras. how were you supposed to keep up with this? you didn't dare check your dm requests; you were sure they had already been flooded.

"so, should i call my manager to release a statement or should we do it together?"

"see, the thing is. i need to ask you for a favour..."

"isagi this isn't the time." you shook your phone as you spoke almost dropping it on your face. he didn't really seem to comprehend the gravity of the situation. this was not the right time for dating and you had to clear it up immediately.

"please date me."

"huh–"

"please be my fake partner, just for a while. coach has been pestering us to get into romantic relationships, apparently it'll improve our football performance." he said it all so fast you almost didn't hear him. but you caught the few most important words 'fake partner'. and you were definitely against the whole idea.

"no absolutely not!?" you said that almost as a question, you were so confused, why did it have to be you of all people. isagi was a world class footballer who could ask anyone to date him (fake date, really). so why did it have to be you? you had barely spoken to each other. he was just a friend of a friend, nothing else.

"please, it can't be anyone else."

"and why's that?"

"i already told the press that the rumours are real."

it was dark outside. you could hear the thunder clapping and lightning streaked the sky. yet here you were on your weekly date. it had been about a month since he dropped the news and you would be lying if you said you didn't sort of enjoy the attention. the publicity was good for your modelling and the dates were fun. but there was this sort of distance between the two of you. it felt scripted, and it was. but you wanted something more. maybe not an romantic relationship, but something that felt more real.

you wouldn't have minded if your script included kisses and holding hands. it wasn't because you liked him. just because.

you'd never tell him, of course. it would be deathly awkward and you feared rejection too much. so you stuck with looking at him a bit longer than usual, laughing more, touching his hand, brushing his hand often.

simple things really. not because you liked him. no not at all. it was just for fun. so that people would buy your story.

events came and went. his hand would always find itself on your waist, usually stiff and uncertain but this time it was firm. like he had gotten used to you. the ice had thawed. a quick peck on his cheek started making his cheeks burn up. you didn't understand why. was he getting used to you?

it was the first time you'd stayed behind for the afterparty. both of you had agreed that keeping up the charade was too much of a hassle so you'd make up an excuse every time. but you were stuck. a close friend of his had apparently told him to "stop fucking them and have a few drinks."

he was referring to you. little did he know that there was no "fucking" going on. but you didn't know if you wished there was, or if you were just tired with a foggy mind.

so you both obliged. he drank while you vowed to be the designated driver (it wasn't necessary, you had a chauffeur) but were soon coerced too. it wasn't long before you both started giggling maniacally, cheeks flushed, and bodies warmer than normal. it was a strange feeling.

your speech is slurred and you suddenly feel drawn to isagi. you're touching him again but this time it's not scripted.

you feel the warmth of his lips against yours as he leans in for a kiss. his breath is heavy with the smell of alcohol, but you can't help but be exhilarated. his hands are gentle as they cup your face, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

the intoxication in his kiss is evident, but you feel like you're being swept away in the moment. your heart races as his lips move against yours.

you can still feel the alcohol in his kiss, and it makes your head spin, you're getting more drunk just kissing him.

you're an alcoholic, you're having symptoms of withdrawal as soon as you part. so you pull him in, and apparently he's just as much of a drunkard as you are.

"fucking hell, i didn't mean fuck in front of us."

it was isagi's friend again. you didn't really hear what he said, it was all foggy in your mind and the only thing you could think of was the man you were kissing, there and then.

the next morning was just as much of a blur as the last night had been. you couldn't recognise your surroundings but you could smell a familiar cologne on the pillow you had slept on.

a figure approached the dimly lit room with a tray in its hands and when you looked to see who it was you were all but unsurprised. it was isagi, once again. you could remember hints of last night and seeing as you were laying in his bed you could figure out much of the rest.

"so, about last night."

"i don't want to fake-date anymore." your words came out much firmer than you wanted. you sounded angry, when in reality your stomach couldn't stop fluttering and all you could think of was getting back into bed with him.

"you want to break up?"

"no you idiot. i want to be with you. really. not scripted. not for show. but really, truly."

he smiled. a wide, beaming smile. the only smile ever. the smile. he was smiling at you.

#isagi x you #bllk isagi #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #blue lock isagi #isagi #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #bllk anime #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk manga #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #yuck #absolutely hate this #but i haven't posted in a while #(🎆) — season of love event

[yazthebookish]

People continue to misconstrue what SJM said in her last interview when the host was expressing how much she appreciates the females being the lead and take action in Sarah's books, because it's always the heroes that get to do something in fantasy books while the heroines sit back at home where it's safe and do nothing or be just the damsels—that's the context.

Sarah never said she won't or doesn't write books for male characters (since she did for Chaol and she wrote a total of approx 13 Male POVs in all her series) so that statement goes against the facts. She did say there are scenes where she forgets to let the guys do something because she is focused on the females (which is a good thing and we know Sarah does focus on female empowerment in her books) but it doesn't equate to saying the guys are too insigificant in the books to be given a book or their own story. Chaol was too important to her she was inspired to write a book with him in mind and merged other characters into his story, but ultimately it was always known as Chaol's novella/book because there was so much going on with him she didn't want to dilute it to fit in Empire of Storms and added characters that complimented his journey alongside theirs and the overall plot.

Did I also mention that HOSAB had one female POV while there were 4-5 male POVs? Bryce and Hunt are still the leads but you also had other characters driving the story too. Ruhn's own arc is obviously important and there is a good chance he would get his own book and while Lidia will definitely kick ass, but do you think her own arc would be more important than Ruhn's? Her arc would probably compliment his.

To reiterate, SJM was responding to the host's praise who said she appreciates how the male characters in her books take the backseat to allow the heroines to take the lead (in terms of action and important scenes)—it wasn't about whether she only write books solely focused on female characters or male characters or about her answering a question if she writes books focused on male characters and her saying no, that's not the context.

It's also like the people who say the series is about the three Archeron sisters when it's not given that there are two novels and a novella left (with the potential of more based on her new contracted books) and she never even said that in one of her interviews, the EW article about the tv show doesn't count because it's likely not Sarah's words but what the journalist understood about the series and who will be featured in the show. What Sarah always said is that the spin-off books are about different characters and follows different POVs. Each book will feature a couple, so the spin-off books are about the characters in this world whose story was not told yet, it's not just the sisters (the screenshots below give better clarity so I'll leave it at that).

Back to my main point, If she does eventually write a book focused on a male character, then don't come here and complain about how she lied if she never said what you claim she said in that interview from the very beginning.

Not really a rant but it always confuses me how people take a piece of information when half of us were present during that interview and turn it into something completely different. To each their own thoughts I guess.

#people can have at it though #I don't know how I ended up writing an essay length post #just trying to make a point

[shaakyhaands]

Hear Me Out:

Court of Darkness but MC is an investigative journalist.

Do we ever really get any details on what MC did on Earth?

Like no, deadass— we know she had an apartment and Robin. How is she paying rent? How is she buying cat food, or paying Robin’s vet bills?

I’m willing to bet the devs intentionally didn’t give us much detail about MC’s occupation, specifically so we the reader can ✨ project ✨ onto her.

That being said: let’s make up some occupations for her!

I think an investigative MC would be fun! She’s in a whole new dimension, there’s a ton to explore. Reality itself behaves differently, allowing magic! There’s an entire history of this world’s inhabitants! Wars, art, culture, food, philosophy, sciences, MAGIC! This would be fucking paradise for an exploratory personality.

Some headcanons:

MC always has questions. About everything. From the tangible and quantitative (“what is this?”) to the conceptual and abstract (“interesting. You seem to feel very strongly on this subject, am I reading that right? Can you tell me more? What influenced your judgement?”).

When she’s not peppering one of the consorts with questions about life in this world, she’s reading. What is she reading? Everything. Everything she can get her hands on. Especially books on history.

Speaking of reading and asking questions— MC bonds with Toa in her pursuits of knowledge. He helps her learn how to read and write (language barriers). While Guy, a man of action more than words, might get tired of MC’s incessant questions (and I really mean incessant, this isn’t shade at Guy. This MC is straight up annoying, never shuts up)— Toa has more patience.

Speaking of history— she studies historical events and the relationships between the kingdoms. Important players on the world stage, what they did, who they were cool with and who they pissed off and why. Why, why, why, MC is very interested in learning why things are the way they are.

So much so, she looks into events deeper than most native inhabitants would probably have any reason to. She wants to find the information not in the history books. She wants to know what actually happened— who pulled what strings, who is connected to who else and how did those connections play out, etc.

Through her research, MC learns about a lot of royals before they’re otherwise introduced. Not only does she learn of their existence (“Toa has a sister? Toa has three sisters? 👀”), but she, through the lens of various historical accounts (that she certainly cross referenced with each other), learns of their character. What they’ve done. And, reading between the lines, what some books failed to explain or navigated around, she’s able to get a better sense of their real personalities.

For example: Reading several accounts of her behaviour, if MC is piecing together the information correctly, than the picture her research is painting of Idina is a very, very cold one. Thinking about the implications makes MC shiver. To think this woman is related to Toa, it actually make too much sense.

Speaking of her research: MC definitely has the magical equivalent of a conspiracy theory pin board in her bedroom— one mapping out the connections between the kingdoms and powerful individuals.

This ^ This, but it’s MC, and the red string is connecting Idina to several assassinations untimely, very unfortunate and super totally accidental deaths of government officials. Toa is the person in the foreground.

“Okay, but why” you might be inclined to ask. “Why is MC asking all these questions, what’s the point”

The point is, she is an investigative journalist. So far, I’ve really emphasized the “investigative” part. But, my sweet summer child, there’s an entire second half of that title.

The point being, MC is recording all of the information she’s gathering.

The history, the art, the culture, the sciences, the magic— all of it. All of it, she is making an immaculate record of. How, you might ask? Well, you have some options:

Personally, I’m a huge fan of MCs who got transported with some of their earthly tech on their person. I have more than once gotten home and straight up passed out after a long day, still holding onto or wearing my daily gear. Let me put it this way: if they were able to bring her god damn cat with her, I see no reason why MC couldn’t bring, say, a backpack with her. Maybe a satchel, or a crossbody bag. If it was on or near her person when she fell asleep, I can imagine it getting caught up in the process.

Say this MC did have her bag with her. That means she has a myriad of technology potentially at her disposal. Laptop, tablet, camera. If you really want to lean into the “investigative reporter” side of things, she could even have an old school hand held tape recorder. At the very least, she definitely has a phone.

“Tech would die, though, how is she going to charge it” magic, babe. Via Roy’s consort path, we learned that inhabitants of the magical realm make magical weapons out of silversmithing. The reason Roy gives is that silver is a good conductor of electricity and magical energy:

(Please ignore the shit image quality, YouTube is being mean)

My point being, you understand the implications of this statement? People in Salagia know what electricity is. At least, on some level. So if MC just made one friend out of the S ranks, or Sherry, I’m sure they could come up with some way to keep any of MC’s earthly electronics permanently charged.

Outside of tech— remember how MC has to pretty much learn how to read and write? Because the Salagian language, it’s not English. In the American server, it’s hinted that the Salagain language is some derivative of Latin, and magic helps translate speech between MC and everyone else. In Toa’s path, MC can sort of read? But it’s not like speaking, and she pretty much has to relearn from the ground up (Warning: mild spoilers for Toa’s route, maybe?):

Point being: if MC can’t really read Salagian writing, then I doubt Salagians can read anything in MC’s native language (be that English, Japanese, or anything else).

So, theoretically speaking, MC could just write in her native language and no one would really be able to tell wtf she’s writing. Whose gonna teach them, her? Not if she doesn’t want them to know, she won’t.

So, to recap:

Our little investigative journalist MC is given the scoop of a fucking lifetime, being transported to a different universe.

With her tech, raw determination, and the help of some new friends, she gathers intel and writes up reports— be that literally writing, recording speech, or making video essays.

Photos, videos, any documentation she can make, she does.

The knowledge she gains enables her to move through this new world with a bit more discretion. She’s better able to navigate social settings (“everyone with blue eyes seems to hate me?… Oh yeah, the red, Avari, got it. I’ll just be cool, then”), and potentially avoid shady characters (“note to self: avoid Idina. Also, Toa needs therapy.”)

Maybe she discovers some cults earlier than she would otherwise?? 👀

And if/when she eventually gets back home, even if it’s just to visit friends, but not actually stay there— she will have the most epic story of all time. With supporting documents.

Other fun headcanons:

If this MC does pair up with a consort, everyone is like “… bro, your girl… she never stops asking questions” and her paramour is just like “fuck yeah, she doesn’t 😍”

“What are you writing” “a list of workers rights violations, I can’t believe unions are a foreign concept in this world.”

If an animal/creature shows up, MC is the first to jump to its defense. “It’s a siren!” “She’s part of an endangered species, you cretin!” “She can kill you! Aren’t you scared??” “So could tripping and falling over. Bottom line is, I’m not going to let you hurt her!”

“Do you not have kings in your world?” “I mean, they exist, but let me tell you about 1789 France…” *cue the radicalization of the S ranks*

Say a king shows up to the school for an event, oh BOY will she have Words. Not only would she ask a shit ton of questions, she will also have no fucking fear, because she has no respect for their title. “I read about this policy decision, what was this experience like for you?” Whatever prince is the associated son of the king is like “MC, please, I’m so scared for you, don’t incur his wrath”, while the king is just like “you know?… this person?.. this person is bold. To talk to me like this, the blatant lack of idol worship, almost bordering on disrespect, even… this is Different. New. Fun. I almost feel like a normal person, even.” And so, the king engages with all of her questions, much to their son’s potential dismay.

Anyways— god it feels good to get this enormous idea out of my brain and on a digital page. The Thought has been Purged, I am now free. Been a hot minute since I did some long form theorizing for CODVN, feels nice man. 😁

#court of darkness #codvn #toa qelsum #im back on my bullshit

[itsclydebitches]

Tedependent WIPs

Making a list to help me keep track of ideas/links, but anyone is free to use these as prompts if they want ^_^

Another excerpt of Trent's book, complete with 'corrections' from Ted

Canterville Ghost AU (because if you haven't heard Lance try to do an American accent you're missing something very important in your life) WIP: The Mannion Ghost

Character exploration piece of Trent queer-ifying his wardrobe post-divorce, comparing that to Ted's unassuming khakis and pull-overs. Includes his complicated relationship with glasses, especially after that compliment

Coda to "Sunflowers" where Ted and Trent chat at the back of the bus about their respective nights, Trent pining over the thought that he could have gone with Ted to a museum Finished! Drawn Sunflowers

Crack Prompt: Trent narrates life around Richmond like a nature documentary. Based on this post. Finished! The Humble Himbo

Finding that footage of Nate and spending hours splicing it all together because Trent is a petty individual with a crush thorough journalist

Feral tedependent conspiracy theorist Colin. Based on this post

Henry Parent Traps Ted and Trent after reading Trent's book. Based on this post.

How a man who has worn his hair up one (1) time on screen managed to lose so many hair-ties at the club

Obligatory "Trent drops more and more hints that he's gay, to the point of absurdity" fic

Outsider POV of Trent changing from terrifying journalist to Ted Lasso's #1 Fanboy

Post-"Boxes," Trent tries to apologize to Ted for his unprofessional, oh-so-mortifying, definitely annoying af behavior in the hall. Cue reassurances that hell no, I loved that

Post-canon Trent is ready to propose and what more romantic spot is there than Paris? Problem is, after the fiasco with Michelle, Ted is well aware of the significance of traveling there. Cue Trent’s elaborate plan to convince Ted this isn’t a proposal trip… even though it totally is.

Red String of Fate fic, perhaps with some element of the string periodically having a literal, physical impact on the world (to parallel the humor of Roy's "training")

Trent and the himbo team try - key word: TRY - to plan a surprise party for Ted.

Trent comes out as generqueer to the Diamond Dogs Finished! Old Diamond Dogs, New Tricks

Trent gets roped into airing his romance problems to the Diamond Dogs. Now how to explain an unrequited crush without anyone realizing he's talking about Ted...

Trent undergoing the mortifying ordeal of giving Ted a selfie for his contacts Finished! 10 Likes in the Last 5 Minutes

#Ted Lasso #Trent Crimm #Tedependent #tedtrent #Ted x Trent

[grandmaster-anne]

An Interview with Royalty

By Jane Robson | Published 25 March 2013

Interview with Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence KCVO CB ADC(P)

An amazing opportunity arose for Castle Court  4R Children to attend an interview with Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence at the RNLI Headquarters in Poole, where he is the Chairman of the RNLI Operations Committee.  They had spent the spring term developing their journalistic skills as part of their literacy topics, so a chance to practice them on a member of the Royal Family could not be missed!

Charlotte gave the opening speech and asked the first question – “Thank you so much for allowing us to interview you as part of our English Work”.

“May I begin by asking what your links are to the RNLI and how important an organisation it is to you?”

When I was very small, about three years old, I had holidayed at Dungeness in Kent.  I was taken to the local Lifeboat station where I remember a big shinny boat and thinking I really wanted to go on it.  As you now know, in recent years I have been fortunate to get involved.

Leila:  Please can you tell me what you wanted to be when you were our age?

I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do at your age.  I did know that I DID NOT want to work in London, and due to the interest in the sea  I signed up with the Navy and have just left after 37 years.

Jimmy: Were you ever naughty and if so what punishments did you get? Were you ever grounded?

I actually can’t remember as I only remember the good things about my time at school.   I may have been kept in after school.  My sports did keep me out of mischief as I enjoyed football, cricket  and tennis.

Tenzing: What are your best memories of school and did you have any scary Teachers?

My best memories from my prep school in Kent are the fact that I had plenty of time for sport and enjoying the Countryside.

As for the scary teachers:  the scariest teacher left when I arrived and although there were one or two others, I don’t think they were too bad!

Charlie : What was your favourite sport at school and what is your favourite sport now?

I enjoy all sports.  My favourite is cricket.  I played with some people who went on to play for  their county and England.

I’m too old for some sports now, but I do enjoy sailing and golf.

Joanna: Do you find it strange being a part of the most famous family in the World?

No not strange, I’ve got used to it.  I do live two separate lives.  One is supporting my wife and the other is supporting my own commitments, such as the RNLI.

Charlotte: Did you think you would grow up to marry a Princess and sit down over a roast dinner with Her Majesty the Queen?  Does it ever feel a bit unreal?

No.  If someone had told me some years ago I was going to marry a Princess I would have thought they were rather barmy.  It actually feels very real and comfortable.  I know the Queen as a person, she is warm and friendly,  and to me she is my ‘mother- in-law’

Charlotte Gilmour:  Do you feel part of the Family?

Definitely. I am an extended part of the Family.

Cosmo: When was the last time you rode a bike? What do you think are the simplest pleasures in life?

I rode a bike at school and university, and cycled a lot when I lived in Winchester but I would NOT ride a bike in London – it is too dangerous for me!

I haven’t ridden a bike for a while, however last summer, when we were staying at Balmoral Castle in Scotland, three of our party decided to ride their bikes to a place where we were having a picnic.  They were exhausted  when they arrived, so I offered to ride one of the bikes back.  It was seven miles, and I was definitely out of practice.

As to the simplest pleasures in life: enjoying  the company of friends, the Countryside and getting on with life; doing something interesting.

Taylor: Do you disco dance and what is your favourite music and best dance moves?

It has been a while since I disco danced,  but I do enjoy different types of music. I was recently in the USA and for three evenings I listened to Blue Grass Music. I do enjoy modern popular music as well.

My favourite dance?  Well, I do enjoy watching ballroom dancing and I regret I didn’t live in an era when it was very popular.

Charlie: Do you have any pets and what are they?

I have a lot of dogs: two English Bull Terriers,  four Labradors and two Spaniels

We live on a working farm so we also have sheep, cattle, and pigs.

Charlie: Did you have any unusual pets when you were small?

I had a dog and a Hamster.  I do remember Gerald Durral’s book about animals and he said he kept a scorpion in a match box, but I had nothing as unusual as that.

Geen : What makes you really chuckle?

A good joke, and if you see something that goes a bit wrong, a bit like the situations which occur on the Television programme  ‘You’ve Been Framed’.

Izzy: What is your favourite food and does Princess Anne cook or a Servant?

I like most foods; any good food and I particularly enjoy food from the farm, particularly our meat and vegetables.  However my favourite food is fish.

We do have a cook,  but my wife does cook when the cook is not there.  She also cooks if we are out on the boat together.  II don’t really do any; although I did learn the basic skills of cooking whilst I was at school, so I can cook if I needed to.

Izzy: Do you catch your own fish?

No I don’t.

Mrs Robinson – May I ask if you have been able to train your Bull Terrier, as I could never train mine?

I think you can, we did ours, they are soft and gentle and lovely pets to us.

#i would very much like to thank the wayback machine for serving its purpose #but i never would have been able to succesfully find this again without companionofthetimelords help #i was searching for this using the wayback machine for days but never found it bc i was scanning for the articles in the wrong year #so #companionofthetimelords #thank you so much #you are now very much deserving to operate the tardis #lol 😂 #also i just saw that photo of him on google bc the article didn't have one #tim laurence #interview #castle court

[daddyfuckinlonglegs]

This post is meant to be in conversation with this post about Danse from slocumjoe and this post about Hancock from serknighted. Reading them first means this will make a lot more sense. To be clear, I am not saying that their interpretations are wrong, I am in favour of reading any character in a way that allows you to explore your own existence and relationship with the world in more depth, and if you've been around my blog long enough you'll have heard my takes on MacCready that exist for very similar reasons. Deliberately reading a text with a certain lens on it can be good for you. That out of the way, I want to both agree and disagree with both posts.

Firstly, where I disagree: I don't have any strong opinions on whether either Danse or Hancock is autistic. I don't read them that way, but I'm not in charge. I do think that many of the experiences that the original posts ascribe to autism are not a singularly autistic experience. I think what you're both describing is just a very human way of experiencing isolation, in a world where community connection has been destroyed and rebuilt in an image of it's predecessor. I don't agree that Danse or Hancock don't have friends; Danse specifically for the simple reason that a military does not operate without a strong inter-unit bond between soldiers. As serknight put it, "he has all but given up his sense of self for what he believes is right", which is a large part of how militaristic organisations operate - you are a unit, not an individual, you are the lowliest creature on earth until you are trained into the corps, and then you embody your duty to your unit. Hancock also reads to me as having some strong connections - Fahrenheit, for one - and what we each individually categorise as "a friend" is so variable that I don't think we can get into it about video game characters without getting into the reeds. For me the issue here is that the game has limitations on how it shows interpersonal connections; I'd argue that none of the companion characters are shown to have "friends". And although I know it's common for autistic people to experience the very particular type of othering and isolation that comes from not following the secret unspoken rules of society, and a sense of utter rejection and disconnection from other people, I don't think Hancock is shown to feel disconnected because of that. I think he's shown choosing to flout those rules, self destructing, living with addiction, and then trying to rebuild that community differently. I also think he is well liked within his community (as much as any politician is), just not by the people who would prefer to have the power he has. I also don't agree that the synth stuff is a metaphor for autism, I don't think it wholly maps onto what Bethesda did with the idea*. For the record, I don't think the slavery angle was well executed either, too many implications they hadn't considered, but that's a post that's been written a hundred thousand times before. And I think the McCarthyism needed a touch more... importance in the story to really land with any power, but I do really like the idea. I also wish Piper had been more utilised in this regard, and that brings up another point I'd disagree with; I don't think Piper knows shit about who's a synth and who isn't. She makes those comments about Danse's way of speaking pointed out in the original post ("...have you heard him talk?") but not all synths behave like Danse. Glory, and Magnolia, and Sturges all have totally different personalities and approaches, and Piper has no evidence (afai remember) for McDonough other than a plucky journalist hunch. She's a part of the McCarthyist paranoia angle, making accusations against a figure of power that she doesn't agree with. I'm glad that it resonated with people, that idea of autistic people being othered for the way they speak is a great point in and of itself, and the dialogue definitely works to support the reading of Danse specifically as not-used-to-NT/informal-conversation, I just don't think the rest of Piper's character is a good basis for it to go further. And now, before getting too point by point critical, I'm going to post this, and write part two of this, where I will explain where I think you're right, and hopefully extend some of this out over the other companion characters.

#please don't reblog til part 2 is added #might be making assumptions that anyone wants to reblog this haha

[wolvesandvisions]

Because I refuse to open that can of worms on twitter but I am getting increasingly frustrated with people not considering why Elon Musk is purposefully imploding the site as far as “oh he’s just a bad at business” I am going to throw this out.

He is doing this on purpose for one reason or another.

I’m no analyst, and I’m going to share an article from someone who is and has been watching him for years below, but what I do know is that he trolls and goofs up corporations to get what he wants.

He introduced the Hyperloop with no intentions of building it just to stop California from putting in work for the high speed rail.

Source

And right now while there’s no definitive answer as to why he is self destructing Twitter, it’s going to have global and political consequences. Jack Dorsey basically posted a manifesto about how he wanted Twitter to no longer be a company and how he fully trusted Elon to get his needs across.

They are both cryptocurrency buffs and want to usher in a world where hard money is replaced with bitcoin, and specifically Elon for all his involvement in the Ukraine and Russia war is aligning with Putin’s principles. All the while owning one of the biggest social media platforms of all time that have gotten cross country information to the people in droves.

He is weaponizing incompetency on purpose, and this is what he does - and it’s extremely important that we don’t just laugh it off and seriously watch what he’s doing.

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Read Dave Troy’s analysis on the situation, he is an investigative journalist that specializes in addressing threats to democracy.

You can also read his easier to digest article with The Medium below.

#politics #elon musk #twitter #wolf txt. #love u all stay wary and dont lose track of each other #also if the pressure mounts with cryptocurrency no matter what stay firm