#we are both adults with our own money | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelikesoffinn · 7 months

Text

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 #astarion #the dark urge #tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #bg3 act 1 #bg3 act 2 #bg3 act 3 #act 3 #act 2 #act 1 #araj oblodra

3K notes · View notes

straykeedz · 5 months

Note

Can you do a Bangchan x reader smut/fluff? Also, keep up the great work!

𝒾'𝓂 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉 🥺 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 @linosssss ♡

𝐭𝐰: 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 ; 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠) ; 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐯 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!) ; 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞 ;

𝐰𝐜: 3,7𝐤

-> 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐚�� 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.

🏡

The house is full of boxes.

Not just the house. Your house. The house you and Chan have just moved into. Literally just - considering you carried the last carton box inside your new apartment half an hour ago with the help of Chan’ friends. Your house - your dream has finally become true, and from now on you and Chan will be living together. Crazy.

Your eyes take in the small, yet welcoming living room, and a big smile spreads on your face. You can’t wait for the furniture to be here - which should be tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan. However right now, as you’re sitting on the hard, cold floor with your back leaning against the wall with Chan by your side and an empty carton of pizza on his legs, you can’t bring yourself to complain about not having a couch to lie down on. Or a table. Or a bed frame. You have everything you need by your side anyway - him.

“Whatcha thinkin’ of, love?” Chan’ voice interrupts your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, and find him already smiling at you - cute dimples and everything. How is it even possible, to be so in love with a person?

“Just how much I love you,” you shrug, turning your face to look at him. “And how happy I am that we’re here, in our house,” you can’t help but smile widely at him. “It feels weird to say, our house,” you giggle.

“Good weird, I hope,” Chan teases, leaning in to brush your nose with his. He knows you’re as excited and happy as he is, you’ve both been dreaming it for a long time and now that it’s finally true you almost can’t believe it, it’s a happiness neither of you ever felt before.

With you being busy with college and Chan always being snowed under work, there was never a good time to move in together - not to mention that neither of you made enough money to afford living alone. So you would live with your roommates and split rent, and he’d do the same, and you’d only see each other during the weekends - needless to say, the intimacy was pretty much nonexistent. But now everything’s different, and from now on you’ll have a whole place by yourself and you’ll be free to do whatever you want, so yeah, it’s definitely a “good” weird.

“Of course it’s a good weird!”, you peck his lips, still a bit salty from the pizza he ate. “Gosh, I’m so happy…” you repeat for the millionth time today.

“I am, too, love,” he bites his lip. “Like, we finally have our own place, it’s crazy!”, he places a kiss on your naked shoulder.

It’s spring, your anniversary is approaching. This year will be your fourth.

Four years sound like a big deal. Part of you is scared of what adult life holds for you: responsibilities, bills to pay, changes to face, ageing - another part of you, though, can’t wait to face it all with Chan by your side, the man you want to be with for the rest of your life. It sounds crazy, to think you’ve found the love of your life at such a young age, but you also know it’s one hundred percent the truth. He’s incredible, everything you ever wished for in a partner and so much more: smart, kind, in touch with his emotion in a healthy way, mature, and last but not least - he’s fucking great in bed. Like - fucking great. He’s a dream.

Now that you’re thinking about it, having a whole place by yourselves also means that you’ll finally be able to have sex whenever you want without worrying about your or his roommates catching you or interrupting you while you’re at it - like that time his dear friend Jisung bursted inside Chan’ bedroom while he was giving it to you from behind real good. And from now on you won’t have to worry about keeping quiet anymore, nor to lock your bedroom door. You could have sex in the kitchen in broad daylight if you wanted to.

“Mh-hm, we have our own place, which means…”, you take the pizza box from his lap and place it on the floor. Then, you straddle him, and his arms immediately find their way around your waist, pulling you even closer so that you’re now sitting on his crotch.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”, he whispers on your lips, drawing imaginary shapes over your clothes with his thumbs. Under your body, you can feel his cock beginning to stir inside his sweats.

“That depends…” you place the palms of your hands on his chest, then latch your mouth on the skin of his neck. He sucks in a breath, and you feel his Adam apple bobble. By now, his cock is fully hard in his underwear, pressing right on your clothed cunt, creating the perfect friction against your clit, and he grips your hips, keeping you in place. “If you’re thinking of your naked body on top of mine… then yes,” you breathe out, slowly grinding on the bulge in his sweats as you continue to suck on his neck.

“Oh, I’m totally thinking of you, naked, under me…” Chan breathes heavily, one of his hands moving from your hips to grope one of your boobs. He squeezes his eyes shut, when you let your hand roam down his body - down, down, down, until it reaches the tent in his sweats. He sucks in a breath when you palm him over the fabric, and he squeezes your ass. “You- shit,” he curses under his breath when you grind on his erection, “you want that?”

You keep leaving kiss on his neck, running your tongue all over his soft skin, leaving open mouthed kisses as your hand is pressed against his chest. “You’re seriously asking if I want to have sex with you after I’ve been grinding on your dick for the past five minutes?”, you quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles, pulling you closer, and it’s his turn now to latch his mouth to your neck, and you gasp.

“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page,” he breathes against your skin, then pulls you even closer, and you both moan at the friction his action causes.

“Oh, we so are,” you kick your head slightly back when he sucks on that sensitive spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. His other hand, in the mean time, finds its way on one of your breasts. He chuckles when you let out a squeak.

“Our first night in our home…” Chan mumbles while still leaving kisses on your neck, and you arch your back. “We should really do something about it, shouldn’t we?”

“Mh-hm,” you hum in agreement, “You know what else you should do something about?” you wrap your fingers around his wrist.

“What?” he places a kiss on your clavicle, right below the crook of you neck as he breathes in your familiar scent.

You drag his hand all over your body, then allow his fingers to slip under the waistband of your sweats and your underwear, brushing your mound. He smiles and bites his lip as his fingers move to brush your entrance, but sucks in a breath once he feels how wet you are - panties completely soaked. “This.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears under his breath. “You’re so wet. How are you so wet? Fuck,” his eyes flutter shut as his fingers, damp with your arousal, circle your clit. You moan in response and let go of his wrist - he knows what to do. “You drive me fucking crazy, fuck. Sitting on my cock, acting all cute and stuff while you’re soaking your panties,” he mumbles, more to himself actually.

Chan is good with his fingers.

The first time he fingered you, you ended up cumming all over his digits only a couple of minutes later - and he hadn’t even touched your clit. He’s the one who introduced you to the wonders of the orgasm from penetration, making you cum and literally see stars just from rubbing your g-spot for seconds - which your ex never ever found in the first place, then around his dick.

“Don’t make fun of me!” you pout, but are immediately cut off by two of Chan’ digits entering you, and you gasp at the feeling of his fingers filling you up. “Oh.”

“What’s that, hm? Cat got your tongue?” Chan teases you as he gives a slow pump of his fingers inside of you, hissing at the way your arousal coats them completely. He likes to act all cocky and stuff, but the both of you know that, the second he’s inside you, he’ll lose his mind.

“Ass-“ you’re cut off by his fingers lifting your tank top, revealing your chest. Asshole,” you chuckle. “You know the effect your fingers have on me.”

“Just my fingers?”, he chuckles, before his lips close around one of your nipples. “What about my cock?”

He presses the pad of his thumb on your clit. You whimper, shaking your head. “All of you. All of you drives me crazy - the way you kiss me, the way you touch me, the way your eyes stare into mine when you make love to me- fuck.”

You hiss the last word when Chan bites your exposed shoulder and grunts. He keeps moving his fingers inside of you, at a much quicker pace, determined to make you cum, and it’s working, because you’re already so close. The pad of his thumb is brushing your clit with every slight movement of his fingers inside of you, and he smirks when he hears you let out a shaky breath - he knows your body well, maybe even better than you do.

“Chan, I-“ you pant against his skin, one hand desperately gripping his tank top as your legs start to shake.

“I know, love. You can let go, I’m right here,” he whispers in your ear, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

Not just now, he’s always gonna take care of you.

You release around his fingers with a muffled sob, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as a couple of swear words leave your mouth. Your orgasm washes all over you and Chan helps you ride it out, stopping the movements of his fingers inside of you only when he knows you can’t take it anymore - meanwhile, he presses soft kisses on your bare shoulder as you come down your high.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks you after he’s made sure your heartbeat has finally slowed down to a much more regular pace. You hum a faint “yes”, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, wet with your sweet release.

He puts them near his mouth and you know what he’s about to do. He wraps his plump lips around his own fingers and swirls his tongue all over his digits, determined to lick them clean. He hums as soon as his tastebuds recognize your taste. “Always taste so sweet, love. Here,” he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and taps your lips with his pads.

His digit taste of your release and Chan’s saliva mixed up. You hum too, and he watches you closely with full-blown pupils and parted lips how you suck on his fingers, which were previously in his mouth and, before that, deep inside your pussy. Chan loves it when you’re filthy, but tonight he’s in a whole other mood - it’s your first day in your new home after all, he wants it to be special.

It’s gonna be nothing but sweet lovemaking tonight.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” Chan asks you, sucking a bright pink mark on the sensitive skin of your clavicle.

To call it a bedroom would be a euphemism, considering there’s just your mattress inside the room, together with three of four boxes. Just your mattress. Placed on the ground, in the center of the empty room. The furniture is being delivered tomorrow, so tonight you’ll be sleeping like this, although your sixth sense is telling you that perhaps you won’t be sleeping at all tonight. The mattress looks funny with the sheets messily wedged in under it, but neither you nor Chan seem to care about the sheets right now, not with how eager the both of you are.

Lying on a mattress that’s lying on the floor isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it’ll work for tonight. Chan’s hands are immediately all over you, his lips on yours within seconds as soon as you both lie down on the bed, lips on your neck as his body is pressed on top of yours, your legs wrapped around his as his hard-on brushes your clothed cunt.

“Chan…” you whine, the friction between your legs becoming unbearable - you need to feel him without any layer between your bodies. “Take these off,” you huff, tugging at his sweats.

He kneels between your legs, and you quickly sit on the mattress to take off your tank top. Chan gasps at the sight of your naked boobs, even though he’s seen them many, many times. His tank top comes off, then his sweats and boxers are next. The second your gaze falls on his hard cock, all you want to do is wrap your lips around its tip, then take the rest of his length in your mouth and milk him dry - his balls look so full, and you want nothing more than to taste him. That may be a lie, though, because you also want him to cum inside of you… you just can’t chose with him.

“Take off yours now, love? Show me that pretty pussy?”

You slide your own sweats down the curve of your ass too, together with your damp underwear, and Chan bites his lips at the sight of the wet patch on your panties, even though it shouldn’t surprise him, since he was the one who made you cum before.

“How do you want me?” You whisper to him, and he swears he felt a shiver run down his spine - you’re just so hot, and he loves you so much.

“Just like this, fuck, you’re so hot,“ Chan grunts as his eyes take in your naked figure sprawled in front of him, legs open wide to welcome his body between them. “Want to look at your pretty face when I make love to you, want to see your eyes roll in the back of your head when I stick my cock in you,” he grunts.

It’s true, you do it every time - it’s hard not to, when the cock’s this good.

“What are you waiting for, then? Put it in,” you smirk, biting your lip.

Chan pumps his cock with his fist for a couple of seconds, smearing pre-cum all over his tip to make sure it doesn’t sting when he enters you, although you’re wet enough to take him. His veiny hand looks insanely good wrapped around himself, pumping his length with a familiarity and a confidence only he can have with his body. You don’t miss the way his balls tighten, looking heavy and full, and you’re ready to take all he has to give you. You want him to empty his load inside of you - mouth or pussy, you don’t really care. His cock looks harder than before, tip pink and angry, the vein that runs along the underside thick and pulsating.

You gasp when he gets closer and aligns his cockhead at your entrance, brushing your swollen clit in the process. “You ready?” He asks you, and after you nod, he pushes inside.

Just like he predicted, you roll your eyes in the back of your skill at the feeling of his cock finally stretching you out. He sinks inside of you at an incredibly slow pace that makes you shiver and gasp. “Fuck,” you moan. He intertwines his fingers with yours as he continues pushing inside. It feels big, hot and hard inside of you. “’s big,” you whine out of pleasure.

Chan’s cock throbs inside of you as he pushes another inch inside. “Yeah?” Then chuckles when you nod. “You’re taking it so well, tho, love. Just a couple inches left, you’re doing so good,” he whimpers.

When he finally bottoms out, you feel so full it almost hurts - every single one of the inches of his beautiful cock sheathed inside of you. Chan lets his body fall on top of yours, pressing his bare torso on your chest and placing his strong hands at each side of your head while he balances his weight on his elbows. “You alright?” He asks, kissing you on the corner of your lips.

“Feel so full,” you gasp, and he smirks, pecking your lips.

“Does it feel good?” He asks you, brushing your soft hair with his fingers. “Because you feel amazing around me, love,” he whispers, kissing your cheek softly.

“So good, baby. So, so good,” you whimper, “You can move now.”

You don’t know how he does that, but Chan always manages to find the perfect angle when it comes to thrusting inside of you. He starts by pulling almost all the way out, arching his back a little and then sinking back inside of you. It’s his turn to roll his eyes in the back of his head now, when he feels your tight walls welcoming him, pulsating around his thick length. It’s a slow thrust - the first one. A thrust that allows him to test the waters, a thrust that makes the both of you shiver.

You arch your back and pelvis, allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you.

“My God, love, you feel so good around me,” Chan grunts, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, then repeats his previous movements with his hips once again. “So warm, so tight…”

His hips meet yours once more, and a shaky breath leaves your lips - the way he’s moving inside of you combined with the hot, open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving on the skin of your neck are making you feel dizzy already. You wrap your arms around Chan’s torso, scratching his naked back with your fingernails - you hear him whimper and you bite your lips at his reaction, because you know just what to do to drive him crazy.

“Wrap your legs around me, love,” Chan moans and you oblige, entangling your legs with his, pulling him closer than he already is until it feels like you’re melting at each other’s touch.

His thrusts are slow, not rushed, reaching that deep spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and scratch his back a bit harder. His kisses burn on your skin, his swollen lips feel hot when he presses them on yours to muffle the sounds that escape his own lips - it’s the force of habit. For years the both of you had had to keep quiet in bed in order not to get caught by Chan’s or your roommates - now, though, you can be as loud and whiny as you want. That’s why you pull away from the kiss, then cup his face with your hands. He doesn’t stop moving inside of you.

“I want to hear those pretty sounds you make,” you whisper on his lips.

Chan is whiny. The softest whimpers fall from his lips as he moves inside of you, rocking his hips back and forth to meet your thrusts. It’s almost addicting, the way he sounds when he’s fucking you. He also grunts and groans, but it’s the soft cries he lets out every time he bottoms out inside of you that are your favorites, especially when he looks at you with those eyes. His chocolate brown eyes are fully blown, cheeks flustered and brows slightly furrowed as the pace of his thrusts increases. He’s getting close, and you are too.

“Touch yourself, love,” Chan whispers on your lips, “‘M not gonna last much longer. Wanna cum together.”

You delicately push two digits in Chan’s mouth, and he sucks and licks them to get them wet enough - when you take them out, there’s a string of saliva that connects them to his lips, and it’s the hottest thing ever. You whine when your own fingers brush your clit, wet with Chan’s spit. Rubbing fast circles on your sensitive bud, you manage to get yourself off right before he finds his own release.

“Look at me,” Chan whimpers, “Look at me when you cum, fuck.”

You do exactly that, and when he feels you clenching around him, he finds his own release much quicker than he thought he would. Chan looks beautiful when he cums. Eyes rolled in the back of his skull, swollen lips parted as he releases the sweetest sounds, Adam’s apple bobbing as he shoots his load inside of you.

“Fuck, love, there’s so much cum. ‘M cumming so much, fuck,” he curses under his breath as he keeps on releasing and releasing, filling you up to the brim until it starts to spill out of you, wetting the sheets.

You place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and he crashes his lips onto yours as he continues to ride out his orgasm as you play with his soft curls. Eventually, with a sigh, his body collapses on top of yours and he hides his face in your cleavage, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Chan, baby,” you call his name after a while, “Can you hand me a towel?”

He nods, but as he kneels between your legs he realizes something. “Shit, they’re still inside the boxes, love.”

You smile at him. “It’s fine. It just means we’ll have our first shower in our new home.”

Chan smiles at you too. When you sit on the mattress, the action causes his seed to eventually drip from your hole, and when you look down, you find out the sheets are completely drenched in Chan’s cum.

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, guilty, “maybe we should do our first laundry, too.”

🏡

-> 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 - “𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧” 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝.

854 notes · View notes

leclercvsx · 5 months

Text

DILF | SMAU

sebastian vettel

pairings: sebastian vettel x reader

summary: y/n is dating Seb who is 15 years older than her but despite the age gap theyre just like any other couple

warnings: age gap (?)

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, landonorris and 47,628 others

yourusername: in my lover era 🫶

TAGGED: sebastianvettel

sebastianvettel: i love you❤️

yourusername: ugh i love you too😭❤️

user: girlie isn’t he old enough to be your dad😨

landonorris: i took the last photo btw

yourusername: we know🙄

user: am i the only one that find this weird ???

user: definitely not the only one

friendusername: my fav couple😔

yourusername: love you😘😘

user: he’s literally almost DOUBLE her age wtf

—

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 815k others

sebastianvettel: great time seeing everyone again 🙏🏼

TAGGED: lewishamilton, yourusername

lewishamilton: loved seeing you mate, your girlfriends lovely by the way💙

sebastianvettel: she’s the best❤️

yourusername: making me blush and shi☺️

user: he’s basically dating a child

user: nah cos this is still so weird

user: im actually so grossed out rn

user: girl me too

user: he should be with someone his own age, not someone that’s just hit puberty

user: a bit predatory if u ask me

—

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, lewishamilton and 25,184 others

yourusername: in a world of boys he’s a gentlemen ❤️

TAGGED: sebastianvettel

user: “gentlemen” it’s because he’s almost double your age babe

sebastianvettel: the love of my life❤️

yourusername: i will cry

sebastianvettel: please don’t, love

user: she’s probably with him for his money and fame tbh

friendusername: i don’t think she’d tolerate all this nasty ass behaviour if she was with him for his money or fame. leave them alone.🙄

liked by sebastianvettel and yourusername

user: i actually think they’re super cute😭

user: no cos me too like i want what they have

lewishamilton: you guys really are the cutest

yourusername: 😛

—

y/n

sebastian

seb❤️

what’s wrong? you never call me by my full name

y/n

i think we should break up:/

seb❤️

what the hell are you on about? i don’t think we should break up.

where’s all this coming from?

y/n

everyone’s calling you a freak for being with a “child” and saying that you’re too old for me or that you’re old enough to be my dad and i don’t want anyone to continue hating on you. so as much as i love you and hate myself for doing this, i think it’s for the best.

seb❤️

no.

i won’t let you break up with me due to jealous children on the internet, Y/n. i love you and i do not care about anyone else’s opinions.

So what if we have an age gap? we’re both legal, mature adults who can decide who we want to date.

i’ll sort this all out, my love. don’t worry❤️

—

sebastianvettel

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 1,628,273 others

sebastianvettel: Y/n and i have been dating for the past year and a half, yes we started dating when she was 19 (4 days before she was 20) and i had just turned 34 but we both discussed this for a while. We’re both legal, consenting, mature adults and choose to date each-other because we love eachother. There is nothing wrong with our relationship. If you find out relationship weird, then YOU are the problem (y/n taught me how to say that.)

Y/n is the love of my life and i don’t ever want that to change. Thanks to some people online, you have made my lovely, wonderful and beautiful girlfriend try to break up with me because she doesn’t want me getting hated on. We’re still very much together and will be for the foreseeable future.

I love you, Y/n. Ignore the jealous, immature children❤️

TAGGED: yourusername

yourusername: sobbing on my floor right now. i love you so so much😭❤️

sebastianvettel: don’t cry, my love.

lewishamilton: ignore the immature people, they don’t know what they’re talking about.

liked by yourusername

user: i actually feel really bad now

user: proud to say i’ve always been a y/nseb shipper btw

landonorris: i would say mother and father but y/n is younger than me so😔

yourusername: you aren’t helping this situation, Lando.

landonorris: it was a JOKE. you know i love you both really🙏🏼🙏🏼

liked by sebastianvettel

——————————

this is quite a short one cos i ran out of ideas lol, but anyway i hope you all enjoy!

this was either gonna be for carlos, daniel or seb but i chose seb cos he’s my fav person ever😛

AND YES I KNOW THE AGE GAP IS A LITTLE EXTREME BUT THIS IS ALL FICTION !!!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN 🫶

masterlist | request

745 notes · View notes

kings-roar · 5 days

Text

credit card: prologue

summary: Yuu gets invited on their first journey to one of their schoolmates’ hometowns! But with the meager allowance given by that stingy headmage, they don’t think they have enough to cover the travel. Luckily for them, they’re dating a super rich (and surprisingly generous) boyfriend. notes: this is part one of my series: credit card! details/warnings: gender-neutral pronouns, yuu instead of y/n, adult!yuu, established relationship, leoyuu, follows EN server

ao3 link: xxx

It was on a lazy Friday evening in the botanical gardens when Yuu was approached by an energetic ball of energy, otherwise known as Kalim Al-Asim, and his childhood companion Jamil. Yuu looks up just as Kalim barrels into them with a hug. They laugh as Jamil begins to scold Kalim, reminding the latter to be aware of boundaries, something that is hardly in the young heir’s vocabulary.

“How can I help you, Kalim?” The prefect moves their homework to the side as they reciprocate the second year’s hug.

“We’re going on a trip!” he exclaims excitedly. Yuu tilts their head to the side.

“Oh? Well, congrats! I hope you have fun.”

“What are you talking about? You’re coming with us!”

‘… Huh?’

“Kalim,” Jamil’s voice sounds tired as he places a hand on his classmate’s shoulder. “You can’t just tell someone they’re going somewhere. You have to ask them first.”

“Oh, right! Well, Yuu, do you wanna come home with us?”

Jamil smacks a hand to his forehead as Yuu continues to become more and more confused. What does he mean, “come home with us”? Is Crowley kicking them out of the campus? Did Grim do something whilst with the Heartslabyul duo? Yuu thought they could trust those two, but maybe they were wrong.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Jamil explains with a tired sigh. “Kalim and I are heading back home, to the Scalding Sands, for the Yasamina River Fireworks Fest.”

“And since you’re from another world, I’d love to show you my hometown, Yuu!” Kalim adds with a beaming smile. “We got six VIP seats, so you and Grim can both tag along! Oh, maybe I should hit up the guys from my Pop Music club too!”

“Wait a minute, you are one of the organizers of the event, Kalim, and as your attendant, I will also be at your side. Inviting Grim and Yuu last minute is one thing, but adding even MORE people whilst we’re busy is too much.”

“It’ll be fine, Jamil! The more the merrier, as they say. Besides, They can take care of their own, right?” Kalim looks towards Yuu with shining, puppy-dog eyes.

“Um, sure.” they nod hesitantly. “But what about the cost? As you can probably guess, Crowley isn’t really on the generous side…”

“Well, the seats for the festival are covered by your tickets. The street food is pretty cheap though! Maybe you could ask the headmage to lend you some more money?”

“Eh, I doubt he’d agree. Grim is also a really big eater.”

Suddenly, a figure jumps down from the tree Yuu was leaning against. The Scarabia duo jumps in surprise, whilst the prefect merely smiled. The figure, ignoring his two underclassmen, ruffles Yuu’s head lightly before sitting down beside them. His long tail curls around Yuu’s wrist as he yawns.

“Hey, Leona-senpai!” Kalim’s the first to recover from the unexpected guest. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice you up in that tree.”

“‘Course you didn’t,” the beastman smirks. “An herbivore like you would never be able to detect a beastman like me.” The comment doesn’t hold much malice in it, if any, and Kalim continues as if nothing happened.

“Well, anyway, were you able to hear everything? Do you wanna come with us?”

“Kalim!”

“What? Leona-senpai is a classmate of ours! Besides, it would be rude not to invite him after hearing us invite Yuu and Grim.”

Leona yawns again as he nestles himself closer to his favourite human, who also happens to be his partner. His eyes are only half open, a sign that he’s just about ready to fall asleep once again.

“A trip to the Scalding Sands? I’ll pass; not a huge fan of large crowds. But if you wanna go, Yuu…” He stares into his lover’s eyes, waiting for a response. The prefect gives it a thought before answering.

“Hm, well I would like to go, since the festival is a once-a-year event. After all, who knows if I’ll be here to experience it again.”

Leona ignores the twinge in his heart at the thought of his favourite herbivore leaving his side, opting instead to reach into his pocket. He takes out a leather wallet, opening it with one hand and expertly fishing out a thin object. The prince places it gently into Yuu’s hand and quickly tucks away his wallet.

“There, now you can enjoy yourself without worrying. Just don’t let that little weasel see it. He might think this means he can spend on whatever without thinking.”

Yuu’s eyes widen as they unfurl their hand, their gaze falling on a shiny black credit card embellished with gold printed words. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR bedazzles the front, and a shiny crown emblem is stamped at the end of his name. The name of some unknown bank, as well as other details, dot the rest of the card. They flip it over and over, studying it carefully to make sure it’s real. Kalim and Jamil’s faces are also aghast as they recognize the card.

“WOAH!” Kalim gasps. “Is that a black card?! I have one too!”

From the sounds of Kalim’s voice, a black card seems exceptionally rare. Perhaps only the rich and royalty could own one. Either way, Yuu remained quite shocked at the mere fact that Leona trusted them enough to loan them his card. After all, he’s a prince! If Yuu ended up misplacing the card, and it got into the wrong hands, then who knows what could happen to THE prince of Sunset Savanna if his royal funds were taken.

“See? You’re all set now. Now hurry up and leave. You’re digging into my date time.”

“All you’re doing is sleeping…” Jamil mumbles, though it still reaches the beastman’s ears. “Whatever. Let’s go, Kalim. Because of you, I have to rearrange a bunch of things.”

“I’ll pass the news onto Grim for ya, Yuu! Be sure to be at the Mirror in the morning!” Kalim waves to the prefect and beastman as he’s dragged off by Jamil.

Once they’re gone, Leona gently brings Yuu closer to him, nuzzling his face into the crook of their neck. The prefect smiles and softly begins to brush their fingers through the prince’s brown locks, eliciting a pleased noise from the back of his throat.

“Thanks for trusting me with your card, Leona. I’ll be sure to keep it safe and use it wisely.”

“‘s all good,” Leona’s words come out slurred, the familiar and comforting scent of the gardens and his love lulling him back into dreamland. “Just want you to enjoy yourself.”

Leona finally falls asleep, and Yuu joins him once they’ve packed all their things. Trying to do homework now would be futile, it seems. The two peacefully slumber in each other’s embrace for the next hour or so, until Grim and Ruggie came to bring them back to their dorms for curfew.

#credit card series #twisted wonderland #twst #leoyuu #twst leona #twst yuu #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x yuu #jamil viper #kalim al-asim #al'ab nariya

184 notes · View notes

2treez · 5 months

Text

Katharine Hepburn’s childhood, in her own words.

“Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus.

Finally, there was only one other family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me.

There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. The way they were dressed, you could tell they didn't have a lot of money, but their clothes were neat and clean.

The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, animals, and all the acts they would be seeing that night. By their excitement you could sense they had never been to the circus before. It would be a highlight of their lives.

The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in shining armour." He was smiling and enjoying seeing his family happy.

The ticket lady asked the man how many tickets he wanted? He proudly responded, "I'd like to buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets, so I can take my family to the circus." The ticket lady stated the price.

The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, the man's lip began to quiver. Then he leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?" The ticket lady again stated the price.

The man didn't have enough money. How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn't have enough money to take them to the circus?

Seeing what was going on, my dad reached into his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill, and then dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!) My father bent down, picked up the $20 bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket."

The man understood what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking and embarrassing situation.

He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear streaming down his cheek, he replied; "Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."

My father and I went back to our car and drove home. The $20 that my dad gave away is what we were going to buy our own tickets with.

Although we didn't get to see the circus that night, we both felt a joy inside us that was far greater than seeing the circus could ever provide.

That day I learnt the value to Give.

The Giver is bigger than the Receiver. If you want to be large, larger than life, learn to Give. Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything.

The importance of giving, blessing others can never be over emphasised because there's always joy in giving. Learn to make someone happy by acts of giving.”

~ Katharine Hepburn

🌳❤️🌳

396 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for telling my wife her book isn't that good?

So me (27M) and my wife (27F) have been married for 5 years. In the entire time we've been married, she had put her professional advancement on hold and chooses to stay at an office job with little potential for career advancement because her true dream is to write and publish books and she says she won't have time to write and pursue that dream if she has to put all her energy into a career she doesn't care about. I think that's not a good attitude to have, because being able to make money from writing books and getting published is really difficult and depends a lot on luck and her career choices impact me because we're married. If she doesn't reach her earning potential then I will need to make up for it by earning more for the both of us. So I feel a lot of the burden in finances while she just gets to chase her dream.

She has been resentful of me for a while that I don't support her writing, but I do! I think she's a great writer and I'm very proud of her, and I tell lots of people that my wife is a writer when they ask what she does. The only thing is that she's always talking about her books and thinking about them and talking about them to her friends and writing partners. She claims to have ADHD and writing is her hyperfixation but she's never been officially diagnosed and hasn't ever tried medication or anything. She'll work on them when there are things to do, like the kitchen is a mess or it's dinner time. And before people get mad at me for expecting her to be a maid I cook and clean a lot too. I just want more participation from her because I get tired of doing everything and sometimes I just want to be taken care of, too. She cleans and cooks sometimes, though she always half-does things, but it just bothers me when I get home hungry from work and she's been home for 20 minutes or so and she hasn't started cooking and the house is a mess and she's just sitting at her laptop.

If I'm honest, I don't like reading. English isn't my first language which makes it harder, and she writes what she calls "young adult books" and they're plots about teengers that aren't very interesting to me. I tried to read her book and got about six chapters in, but it was just really hard for me to keep going so I never finished it. Honestly I don't really care about her books, and it bothers me that her books are ALWAYS on her mind. For example if we're intimate, sometimes her gaze goes distant and I can tell her mind is elsewhere and probably on her books, and when we finally get time together it's like she's not interested in the conversation until it touches on writing or her books. I don't usually talk to her about her books much though, so to be honest she doesn't talk that much to me about it, she'll text other people. But I can tell she always wishes I would talk to her about it. I just wish she could be interested in something that isn't her own writing, like me and our life together.

So this issue kept coming up with her saying I'm not supportive, and I decided to take it to heart. I wanted to support her as a writer and help her achieve her goal of publication. So I sat her down and told her that while she's a good writer and her finished book is good, it's not great, and she's telling a story about a girl who's experiencing poverty and death and mental illnesses, all of which she doesn't have experience with, and it shows. It's a good accomplishment, but probably won't be published so if she wants to be published, she should maybe start something else. Well, she blew up at me and started yelling at me that I have no room to say that because I'm not the intended audience and I never finished it anyway and that she knows more about publishing than I do and her friends and family that read it thought it was amazing. But first of all, she can't trust her family and friends because they'll just support her even if it's not what she needs to hear, and I should be the one who she can count on to tell her the truth. Besides, I'm in the finance industry and know much more about business than she does. She got angry and stormed away and refused to talk to me for the rest of the day.

I don't want to apologize, because I think she needed to hear it. But she was so mad and even talked about it to her therapist, so I'm wondering if I'm the asshole for saying that in the first place and if she's actually right and I'm not really supporting her.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

220 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 5 months

Text

The Taste of Shame (2)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: doubts related to sex work, panic attack, remorse and depression, fluff, sexual tension ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients - however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. It turns out that what he wants and what he doesn’t no longer matter when he meets his friend’s younger sister for the first time. Slow burn, sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Walking to the lecture they talked about everything and nothing; for the most part, she was the one speaking, telling stories or asking questions, guiding her bike beside her by the handlebars, while he just added his thought or simply remained silent, listening to her.

They arrived at the Community Centre true to her word very quickly and indeed he immediately saw posters announcing that there would be free lectures by philosophers in the fields of contemporary ethics.

Robert's sister padlocked her bike in the designated area and they both went inside, following the signs. They entered a large, neo-classical hall with beautiful pillars and rich ornamentation on the ceiling, reminding him of a theatre or opera house.

They sat side by side on seats in one of the first rows − she explained to him that the presenter would be asking questions and, among others, her professor would be answering.

Indeed, the discussion was remarkably interesting and he caught himself drawn in; the men were talking among themselves about capital punishment, attitudes to the treatment of other humans and animals, warfare and human-wide conflicts.

However, he felt a cold sweat on his back and a tightness in his throat, his heart starting to pound like mad when the presenter asked the next question.

"As we know, a lot of young people start, as they say in modern times, sexworking − whether they show up on webcams or have sex for money. How do you, Professor, view this, do you think it's good for the psyche of such people? Is it morally right?"

The professor grunted and corrected his glasses with a slight hand gesture; he was a grey-haired, elderly man with a kindly, calm face.

"It depends on a number of factors. Firstly − what that young person's goal is. When we choose our job, we usually want more than just to earn money, most people's dream is to do things that fascinate them, that they are fulfilled in. Of course, people are also fulfilled in the sexual sphere with their partners, however, what happens when sexuality becomes a profession?

Well, in a way, two things are then combined that can be very destructive to the psyche − materliness and one's own body. At the same time, we make the decision ourselves, so it is not morally wrong if it involves two adults who agree to it, but there is an internal objectification, a selling of some part of our intimacy.

Of course, one can feel good about it. One may even like it. One should not tell such people that they are denying something, or say that they are selling themselves, that they are pricing their value. You see, it is not for us to judge. Everyone can do what they want with their body, it is their unquestionable right.

However, the danger arises when, underneath this materialistic approach, there is a desire for self-destruction, a desire to simultaneously dominate, to be in charge − I decide what happens to my body − and, at the same time, I desire to humiliate myself in my own eyes − I sell myself and I'm nothing, I don't want affection because I don't deserve it.

This issue is very complex and delicate, judging too quickly, especially by outsiders, will be even more hurtful to such people, a confirmation that they will never be loved and accepted, so they will be afraid to make sexuality emotional, which will lead to the opposite effect that we would all like."

The presenter nodded with understanding.

"If the professor were to state what it should look like in an ideal world, what would the professor say?"

The man laughed good-naturedly, stroking his white beard.

"I don't have an answer to that. I think that in an ideal world, the person who is made for us would be highlighted to us in green and those who hurt us in red. But we don't have that option. I think the fundamental mistake of every human being is to make judgements prematurely, instead of being willing to understand, to offer conversation, to support.

Calling someone a whore or a slut has never helped anyone, what's more, it only makes such people even more likely to have suicidal thoughts and be afraid to seek help when they feel they need it, because they are scared of revealing themselves to their parents or loved ones."

The presenter moved on to the next topic, but he heard nothing more, staring blankly at the floor, leaning forward so that his elbows were on his knees − he felt himself trembling all over, his eyes burning from the moisture that had gathered under his eyelids, his throat all clenched.

He felt her hand on his back and he shuddered, glancing over his shoulder at her with wide eyes − she was leaning over him worriedly, he could smell her pleasant scent again.

"Are you all right? Do you want to go out for some fresh air?" She asked frightened, clearly seeing how pale he was, and he nodded in embarrassment.

By the time they got outside it was completely dark; he reached with his shaking hand into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, taking out a cigarette and a lighter, firing it quickly and putting it into his mouth.

He felt her looking at him − they were standing in the square in front of the main entrance where there was no one but them, all around them was the loud hum of moving cars.

For some reason he felt desperate and miserable, weak, small; he clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head, trying to pull himself together. He sat down on the cold stone steps and she immediately sat down next to him, far too close.

He sighed when he felt her hand on his shoulder, stroking him gently, her warm breath on his cheek cool from the crisp evening air. He let out a loud puff of smoke with his lips, thinking only of how he had never let any woman touch him.

He placed his hand on hers, wanting to feel her for once, her skin soft as silk, exactly as he had imagined; he looked at her in pain, her eyebrows arched in worry, in incomprehension of what had actually happened.

"I'm selling myself." He said finally, desperate, and she blinked as if she didn't understand what she had just heard.

He took a drag again, not taking his eyes off her, and let the smoke out through his nose.

"I do all sorts of fucked up things to women for money and get satisfaction out of it, you know?" He asked in a low, trembling voice, feeling devastated how tears of shame one by one began to run down his face.

He felt himself shaking all over and thought he was an idiot, wondering how he could have said that to her. For some reason, he felt something inside him break.

He wanted her to know, to tell him she was disgusted with him, to look at him with that look full of reserve, to tell him it was nothing and just go away simply to let him finally stop thinking about her.

He saw her tighten her lips, her eyes turning red, her eyebrows arching in sorrow as if she was in pain as he was. He felt a pleasant shudder when her hand stroked gently through his hair as if he were a small child, and then she hugged her face to his cheek and simply remained silent.

She didn't say anything.

She stayed.

She wanted to comfort him.

Delighted at this revelation, he burst out into a quiet, mournful sob, leaned over and snuggled his face into her neck, wanting to hide from his own shame and remorse, from what she might think of him, from what he feared and could not forgive himself for.

Why did he have to be like this?

Why exactly did this give him fulfilment?

He sighed quietly as she put her arms around him and hugged him, her soft hand stroking his cheek with gentle, slow movements, her face nestled against his hair and placing a gentle kiss on it.

"You didn't do anything wrong." She whispered finally; he swallowed hard, rubbing the tip of his nose against her neck, brushing his lips gently against her bare skin, again, and then again.

He felt her tremble and tighten her hands on his leather jacket, his manhood in his trousers completely hard.

He had no idea what had just happened between them, but he didn't want to stop.

After a moment, as his emotions left him he realised what he had done.

That he had told a complete stranger about who he was, revealed to her his darkest secret.

This thought made him panic − he got up abruptly and mumbled through his tears that he would go home already, that he apologised to her for everything, not listening to her pleas to wait for her, running quickly down the stone stairs, walking ahead.

He looked over his shoulder as he turned into the corner of the next street and noticed with some kind of disappointment that she was not following him.

He burst out into uncontrollable sobs for the second time once he had locked himself in his car having complete chaos in his head, feeling that he was going through some kind of panic attack.

He thought that until he'd met her he hadn't felt this way, that the idea that he couldn't date her because of what he'd done made him start to regret it all.

What was he supposed to do now?

He reached for his phone hearing it vibrate and unlocked it quickly seeing as many as three new messages from her.

He clenched his eyelids, dropping his phone on the other seat, hiding his face in his hands.

He needed to calm down.

He sat like that for a few minutes in silence, not thinking about anything, just breathing, and then he drove home as if nothing had happened.

He entered his flat, took a shower, ate something and then turned on the TV, all mechanical, completely empty; he shuddered when he got a new message, reaching uncertainly for his phone and felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach when he saw it was one of his clients.

She wanted to meet the next day.

No, he thought.

I don't want to.

He wrote her back that he was taking a break from it all for a while.

He was infuriated when she started texting him to tell him not to do it, that she needed him, that meeting him made her want to go on living.

He slammed his phone furiously into the wall.

What about what he fucking needed?

When he picked it up after several minutes he found that it worked despite the cracked screen.

He accessed the last messages he'd received from Robert's sister and began typing quickly to her on his phone's keypad.

He pressed his lips together when he saw that she immediately displayed his message, a bubble popped up in his app window indicating that she had just written back to him.

He swallowed loudly, writing her back without thinking, without controlling himself, allowing himself to shamelessly write her exactly what was in his head.

He stared at the screen with a pounding heart, wondering whether to do it or not, walking restlessly around his living room with his phone in his hands − he typed out the answer slowly, feeling that he was hot.

She didn't reply for a long time even though he could see that she had displayed his message.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head, laughing despairingly under his breath, not believing how desperate he was.

He'd known it from the moment he'd seen her, when she'd gotten off that fucking bike and looked at him with those big, innocent eyes of hers.

He stood looking at her message as if stupefied, reading it again and again, unable to believe it, feeling like he was about to die from the arousal and heat he felt in his chest, his fingers trembling as he tapped out his reply to her.

And so she did.

He didn't dare propose to meet her alone, knowing how that would have gone down on his part.

He didn't want to scare her off.

However, they wrote with each other for days, even during his classes; Criston and Robert laughed at him for having a girlfriend and not even wanting to introduce her to them.

He didn't care.

She was the first person he told about how it all started, what he felt when he did it, what aroused him and what repulsed him about it all.

She listened to him and answered him with sincere concern and worry, without judging him, without pretending it was a simple and obvious subject, giving him a sense of comfort and understanding.

He made it clear to her that he had refrained from any contact with strange women for the time being.

He licked his lower lip as he lay back in his bed, writing her off quickly.

He swallowed hard when she wrote him back after a moment.

He felt a squeeze in his heart at her words, some kind of pain that she thought of herself that way, that she saw herself as just another person he wanted to take out on.

He chuckled involuntarily, typing back a quick response to her question.

He blinked, looking at his screen with a pounding heart, not believing what he read.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

370 notes · View notes

emjayewrites · 3 months

Text

The Fast Lane (A Formula One Series)(3/?)

SYNOPSIS: Jesenia joins the private, membership-based dating app Raya searching for a sugar daddy. Instead, she unknowingly finds her biggest “whale”: Lewis Hamilton, a famous Formula One racing driver.

PAIRING: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Jesenia "Jessy" Hart (face claim is @/loriharvey)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, cursing, explicit sexual content, not-so-glamorous life in the influencer/racing world, kind of pre-established relationship. RATED M (18+)

PINTEREST: Jessy's F1 Outfits

PLAYLIST: The Fast Lane Spotify

TAGLIST: @royallyprincesslilly @mauvecherie-writes, @saintslewis, @peyiswriting, @hamiltonvuitton-deactivated2024, @cocobutterqwueen, @qveenmelanink, @ashanti-notthesinger, @lewisroscoelove, @lovebittenbyevans, @lew1s-prix, @jasmindaughteroftheworld, @eugene-emt-roe, @apenasumlug4r @simpfortoomanymen, @roseseraj @alika-4466 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @non-stop-imagines @anubisnoir @myescapefromthislife @chaneajoyyy @yeea-nah @mitruscity @lewiscrown @weetjy @a-moment-captured @sugardontbesweet @livinglifethroughfanfic @blveeeeeee @formula-hamilton @purplelewlew @trinitoldyouso @slytherinjimim3nthusiast @certifiedlesbianbaddie @sirlew44 @madstxo @pausmoon @tian-monique @noivadofogo @nikki01234-blog @yorulla @m-uga @julesbog

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Anyways, enjoy! Dividers by @inklore!

CHAPTER THREE: The Chronicles of Celebrity

user4459: "'F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - honestly, i'm surprised that he kept her around for this long. the matching fits is cute! lord knows how much lewis loves to hop to different models. is this a sign that our fave workaholic found someone to love?"

MsNikkiLuv: "'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - I don't think so. I mean, yes she was at Monaco, Barcelona, and Montreal Grand Prix (and now Paris) but I don't think this is a 'forever' thing. He made it quite clear that he doesn't want a relationship now and that he's focusing on F1. Not to mention, in his Masterclass, he said that he found it difficult to accept love and trust. I think it's just another FWB. She's gorgeous though and I think that she's really nice. I didn't see any reports saying that she's a bitch or anything."

ManyMenSimp1644: "'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - let's be forreal, y'all. she's with him for the clout and the money/gifts just like all the other women. that man ain't looking for love, he just wants his dick wet. he's doing this out of convenience and to have a bed warmer. maybe she's just a constant bed warmer lol".

luvroflewishamilton435: "'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - whatever they are, they are good together. @MsNikkiLuv same. i didn't hear anything bad about her at all. she dated many different men (and some even richer than lewis). but can we just be happy that she's of age?? like, lewis is finally with someone closer to him! i believe that she's 30 and plus, i love that she wears heels around him. lewis is so confident in being a short king and i'm here for it, especially with that third leg of his."

The comments on Lipstick Alley were a mix of rumor, suspicion, and sheer gossip. They were a tornado of wild speculations about the relationship between Jessy and Lewis, whirling around in a never-ending cycle of assumptions and baseless accusations. Some users were outright hostile, deeming her unfit to be with Lewis, as if they'd ever get the chance of being with him themselves. Others tried to paint a picture of compatibility and reason:

maytheoddsbeinurfavr:"'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - let's not forget that they're both grown adults and can make their own decisions. It's not our place to judge their relationship based on age or wealth. They seem happy together, and that's all that matters. @luvroflewishamilton435 Lewis does seem to be happier in being with someone closer to his age. And Jessy's choice to wear high heels around him shows her confidence."

Their opinions of her were inconsequential; nothing could stop her from getting this bag. But despite her tough exterior, Jessy was still human and had insecurities like everyone else. While she welcomed the kind comments, the negative ones also stung a bit.

While she had a deep admiration for the game, she also recognized its negative consequences, especially when she found herself in the company of well-known celebrities.

After spending an extended period with Lewis, she realized that she needed some time alone to gather her thoughts and recharge. As expected, Lewis didn't take it too well and exhibited his sassy behavior once again, much to her disapproval.

This is why we stay clear of lightskin men, she thought as she read yet another one of his text messages.

As with the ones before it, it was a trap to lure her in: a set of pictures showing him shirtless in questionable poses and his constant musings about her attending his upcoming races in Austria and England. Despite his attempts to woo her, Jessy had already made up her mind to attend, especially after receiving lavish gifts from him - a Cartier watch and a mini Kelly bag from Hermes, which she got while they were in Paris. She kept the latter displayed in her closet - it was too flashy to wear out in public. But, as always, she enjoyed playing with his feelings. Some might call it cruel, but Jessy knew from experience that keeping men on their toes never led her astray.

Being seen with Lewis had its perks for Jessy. She was now invited to exclusive parties and events that she wouldn't have received invitations for before, all because of his status as a Formula One driver. It was amusing to watch people fawn over him and try to get a photo or even just a glimpse of the famous racer. However, what truly delighted her was the reaction of these individuals when they saw her by his side.

Even though she had no desire to settle down with anyone, especially not someone like Lewis Hamilton, who seemed to constantly crave attention and validation, not to mention the drama that came with being in a high-profile relationship, Jessy enjoyed the exposure it brought for herself and her brand. Don't get her wrong - Lewis was slowly becoming a good friend in addition to being a great lover, but he also had his moments. He wasn't necessarily a red flag, but definitely somewhere between yellow and orange.

"TiTi Jess, TiTi Jess!" two little voices called out in unison, breaking Jessy's daydream and bringing her back to reality.

It was a perfect day in Miami, with clear blue skies and the sun shining brightly overhead - the ideal day for a baby shower.

Jessy tucked her phone into her purse and bent down to meet the gaze of the twin four-year-olds who were running towards her.

"Oof," she pretended to groan as they crashed into her arms, giggling. "Looks like someone really missed me."

"Yeah, TiTi," said Anais, one of her nieces, with an attitude that was well beyond her years. She let go of Jessy for a second to give her a stern look. "Why were you gone for so long? Mommy said you got a new boyfriend."

Jessy rolled her eyes internally; it was just like her younger sister to spread gossip about her whereabouts, especially to her young nieces.

"Yeah," chimed in Amalia, Anais' fraternal twin. Unlike her sister, Amalia was quiet and reserved while Anais was quite the handful.

Jessy opted not to continue the conversation with the twins and instead shifted the topic to their appearance. As always, the girls were perfectly styled with coordinated outfits and flawless hair. They both wore pink dresses and had their curly hair braided into puffs. Jenesis, her sister, had requested that guests dress in either blue or pink depending on their guess for the baby's gender, so it was no surprise that most of the female attendees were dressed in pink like Jessy's nieces who were clearly 'team girl'.

Jessy beamed at them. "You both adorable! Can you give TiTi a twirl?"

The girls eagerly obliged, twirling around to show off their dresses. Jessy couldn't help but smile at how much joy they brought her. Whenever she felt overwhelmed with work or life in general, spending time with her nieces always helped put things into perspective. They were a reminder of what truly mattered in life - family.

"Okay girls, let's go play some games," Jessy said, standing up and taking each of their hands in hers.

As they walked towards the backyard where the baby shower was being held, Jessy couldn't help but notice all the decorations. Jenesis had truly outdone herself with the rustic, woodland theme for the baby shower. Pinecones and tree branches could be seen adorning every surface, creating a cozy and natural atmosphere. The color scheme consisted of rich greens and browns, with pops of pink and blue for an added touch of excitement. The dessert table boasted a towering cake covered in fondant bears, while hanging above was a banner declaring "We Can Bearly Wait!" in whimsical letters.

Her nieces abandoned her upon arriving, immediately shifting their focus from their aunt to a group of children engaging in party games. Jessy spotted Jenesis talking to some guests and waved at her sister from afar. Jenesis smiled back and excused herself to come over to them.

"Hey sis," Jenesis said as she hugged Jessy.

"You've outdone yourself with this party," Jessy replied, admiring the decorations.

Jenesis smiled, gently rubbing her swollen belly. "This is my third and final baby, so I wanted to make it special," she explained.

"Final one?" Jessy snorted with amusement. "Did you ask DeVon for his input?"

Jenesis shrugged. "I don't need his input. He's probably hoping for a boy, but this baby will be our last one. No more little McClures running around. And speaking of new things, how's your new boo? I see you off jetsetting from one place to the next."

Jessy laughed at her sister's teasing. "He's not my 'boo'. We're just friends," she replied.

Jenesis raised an eyebrow at her. "Just friends? That's not what it looked like when I saw those pictures in Monaco and Barcelona. Y'all look mighty friendly. He's fine though, even with his shortness. Does he sound posh?" Jenesis playfully put on a fake British accent for emphasis.

Jessy rolled her eyes at her sister's teasing. "He's not posh, he's just well-spoken," she replied with a smile. "And what he lacks in height, he makes up for in other places."

"Mmhmm, I'm starting to see the appeal," Jenesis continued. "I'mma let you be great though. Lewis may be fine and all, but he a bit too short for my liking."

Jessy casually shrugged her shoulders. Lewis wasn't as tall as the type of men she typically went for, but she didn't let it bother her. Her sister's baby daddy and longtime boyfriend was a towering 6'7, which was ideal for his role as a point guard for the Miami Heat.

At that moment, DeVon strolled over to where they were standing, his arm affectionately draped around Jenesis' shoulders.

"Well well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," he teased Jessy with a sly smirk.

"Hi DeVon," Jessy responded with mild irritation. She and DeVon had never been the best of friends, but they maintained a civil relationship despite their differences.

"You out here livin' it up with that short, British nigga, huh?" he said. "I'm surprised that you're here."

"I wouldn't miss my favorite sister's baby shower, DeVon," retorted. "Plus, we not even dating. We're cool, that's it."

"Cool?" DeVon scoffed, but decided to not broach further on the topic. For Jessy, DeVon was on thin ice as it was, especially since he had yet to make an honest woman out of her sister after being together for nearly eight years.

Jessy stared at the man intently as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I said what I said."

DeVon raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get feisty," he joked. "I swear y'all get that from y'all's mama. That fiery Colombian side definitely runs in the family."

Jenesis and Jessy exchanged eye rolls at DeVon's antics. On their mother's side, they were a quarter Colombian, but they didn't know much about that side of their family. Their mother never talked much about Abuela Sofia's relatives in Bogota for some reason.

DeVon prodded, "So, are you single?"

Jessy quipped back, "As single as a one-dollar bill." Jenesis giggled at her response.

DeVon then announced, "I might have someone for you." Jessy let out an exasperated sigh.

"Who's asking?" she questioned.

"It's my teammate," DeVon proudly revealed. "You know Xavier, right?" Jessy nodded, trying to recall who he was. She vaguely remembered him from past get-togethers with DeVon and Jenesis. She knew he was good-looking, but beyond that, she didn't remember much about him. "So here's the plan: I'll bring him over here -"

"No, please don't do that," interrupted Jessy firmly. The thought of being set up by DeVon made her cringe. As soon as the words left her mouth, Jessy regretted speaking them. She knew DeVon would take it as a challenge and make it his mission to set her up with someone, whether she liked it or not.

"Too late," declared DeVon with a sly smile. "I'll be right back."

With that, he walked off in search of Xavier. Jessy groaned inwardly, knowing that she couldn't escape this setup now.

A few minutes later, DeVon returned with Xavier trailing behind him. He was just as handsome as Jessy remembered - tall and muscular with mahogany skin and a short crop of black hair styled in a low fade. But his serious expression put her on edge.

"Hey Jessy," greeted Xavier in his deep timbre with a small nod of his head.

"Hey," responded Jessy uncertainly. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

"Yeah, I've been busy with the team and everything," explained Xavier. "But I always see your photos on social media."

Jessy nodded awkwardly, not sure what else to say. She felt like she was being interviewed for a potential job instead of casually talking to someone at a baby shower.

"Well...I'll leave you two to catch up." DeVon flashed a mischievous grin before excusing himself and pulling Jenesis away, leaving the two of them to catch up on their own.

Jessy glared at him as he disappeared into the crowd before turning back to Xavier with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

"It's all good," replied Xavier easily. His tense expression had relaxed slightly now that DeVon was gone.

"So how have you been?" asked Jessy politely.

"Good, good," answered Xavier with a small smile. "Just trying to focus on my game and make it to the playoffs this upcoming season."

Jessy smiled, not knowing much about basketball but trying to show interest. "That's awesome. I saw some of your highlights on TV and you were killing it."

Xavier chuckled, his smile growing wider. "Thanks, I appreciate it. But enough about me, how have you been? I see you've been traveling a lot."

"Yeah," agreed Jessy with a small shrug. "I love exploring new places. It's been fun."

"That's really cool," commented Xavier sincerely.

The conversation flowed smoothly between them as they caught up on each other's lives. Jessy was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Xavier despite her initial nerves. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say and shared some interesting stories about his training and games.

Eventually, they got pulled away from their conversation and walked over to the other attendees to enjoy the baby shower. The rest of the baby shower went by in a blur for Jessy as she mingled with the other guests and played games. As the party started to wind down, Xavier approached Jessy and asked if he could walk her out to her car. Jessy smiled at his kind offer and happily accepted, looking forward to spending more time with him.

Xavier turned to Jessy with a small smile. "I had a really great time catching up with you today."

"Me too," replied Jessy with a shy smile.

"Maybe we can do it again sometime?" suggested Xavier hesitantly.

Jessy's heart skipped a beat at his invitation. "I would like that," she said softly.

Xavier grinned, relieved at her answer. "Great. How about we grab lunch next week?"

Jessy's heart dropped as she remembered her busy schedule for the next few weeks. "I would love to, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it for lunch next week."

Xavier's face fell momentarily, but he quickly recovered with a smile. "No worries, how about we exchange numbers and we can keep in touch through texts?"

Jessy felt relieved and grateful for his understanding. "That would be great."

They exchanged numbers before saying goodbye, both secretly hoping for another chance to see each other soon. As Jessy drove home, she couldn't help but feel excited about getting to know Xavier more through their conversations.

The sun was shining brightly in the sky as people from all over the world flooded into the track, each one eager to witness the qualifying day and possibly get a glimpse of their favorite drivers. Jessy arrived a day late, much to Lewis' chagrin. To say that he had a bit of an attitude was an understatement. Jessy could care less, honestly, and decided to have a thorough conversation with him about boundaries and not being at his beck and call.

Despite his reputation for constantly being seen with different women, Jessy quickly learned that Lewis could be quite particular and almost possessive. While she understood their arrangement as a casual and mutually beneficial relationship with no expectations of exclusivity, Lewis often forgot this and ended up in a confusing gray area.

She found Lewis in his team's pit area, surrounded by his mechanics and engineers who were busy preparing his car for the race. He looked up when he saw Jessy approaching and greeted her with a half-hearted smile.

"Hey," he said curtly. "Glad you could finally make it."

Jessy rolled her eyes internally but kept a polite smile on her face. "Sorry for being late, I had some things to take care of."

He raised an eyebrow at her response. "Things? What things?"

"Personal matters," she stated firmly, not wanting to disclose any more information.

Lewis shrugged, clearly not interested in her explanation. "Whatever. Qualy is 'bout to start so I need to stay focused. I'll hit you up later."

Jessy watched as Lewis walked away, feeling a mix of annoyance and disappointment.

What a fuckin' dickhead, she thought as she made her way further inside the garage.

Jessy's frustration began to escalate, but her thoughts shifted to Xavier and their potential plans. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for agreeing to meet with him, knowing Lewis wouldn't be too happy about it if he'd ever found out. However, she reminded herself that she couldn't constantly put her life on hold just because he wanted her to always be available.

Going off-script was never part of the plan, and it never will be. Maybe it was the constant media attention getting under his skin, or maybe he was simply deluding himself, but Lewis needed to see the truth and understand that he was nothing more than a temporary obsession. He had been using her as much as she had been using him.

The roar of the engines and the smell of gasoline filled the air as the cars lined up on the track for qualifying. Jessy found a spot near Bono and the huge television, her eyes fixed on Lewis' car as he sped past in a blur of colors. Despite her irritation with him, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride watching him race. It was clear that he was in his element, his focus solely on the track and beating his competitors.

Suddenly, Jessy's phone buzzed, pulling her out of her focus on Lewis. It was a text from Xavier:

Xavier: Just waiting until I see your gorgeous face again. When do you want to hang out?

A smile spread across Jessy's face as she quickly replied:

Jessy: Soon...

She tucked her phone back into her purse and turned her attention back to the race. As the qualifying session came to an end and Lewis secured a position in the top five on the starting grid, Jessy made her way back to the front to wait for him. He emerged from the car, sweating and slightly disappointed for not claiming pole position. But when he laid eyes on Jessy, his expression softened.

A rush of memories flooded his mind, and he realized that he was repeating mistakes and undoing all the progress he had made in therapy. Despite their unconventional relationship, Jessy was always there for him, offering support and encouragement. Yet here he was, pushing her away and reverting to the same patterns he had with Nicole - something he swore never to do again. He despised himself for being such a dick, especially towards women. No amount of insecurities should ever justify treating someone poorly.

"Hey," Lewis said as he approached her, finally seeming more relaxed now that qualifying was over. "Sorry for being an arse earlier."

"It's okay," Jessy replied with a shrug. "I understand you have a race to focus on."

Lewis could easily read Jessy's body language, with her arms crossed and an unreadable expression on her face. He knew there was still tension between them, but he was confident he could turn things around.

"Come here," he beckoned softly, opening his arms for a hug. Jessy scoffed and rolled her eyes, as stubborn as ever. But Lewis liked that about her; it made her even more attractive. "Jessy, I don't want to beg for a hug."

"And if I want you to?" she countered with a mischievous smile.

"You're driving me crazy, woman," he sighed. After a few moments of silence, Lewis spoke up again. "Please, can I have a hug?"

Jessy nodded and moved into his embrace. She breathed in the familiar scent of smoke and musk that always seemed to draw her in. Lewis' arms wrapped comfortably around her, settling just inches from her ass. Despite their current issues, she allowed herself to relax in his arms for a moment.

"You owe me, Hamilton," she whispered lowly in his ear, causing him to chuckle deeply.

"Anything you want, sweetheart."

"Good answer."

The Austrian Grand Prix had not been kind to Lewis. After starting from the top five, he ended up finishing in eighth place. As a result, his mood soured for the remainder of the race weekend. He was on edge and moody, which was evident in how he treated Jessy during their sexual encounter. He was rough with her, but not enough to completely upset her, although she couldn't help but remember how hard he pulled her hair from behind and the marks left on her ass.

Lewis needed an outlet for all the pent-up emotions from the past weekend and sex was his vice. They were similar in this aspect of using physical intimacy as a form of therapy for their mental state. However, how long could this temporary solution sustain them?

The races seemed to blur together for Lewis and Jessy as one weekend ended and another began. Silverstone held a special significance for Lewis, being his home race. The pressure to perform well in front of his home crowd was always immense, but this year it felt even more intense. The media attention was overwhelming, causing chaos wherever they went. This year's Silverstone event was the most crowded with journalists and fans yet, and while she didn't want to take credit for it, it was hard to ignore the correlation with her relationship with Lewis. Everywhere she went, cameras and reporters followed, making her feel like she had lost any sense of privacy she once had.

But instead of letting it get to her, Jessy saw an opportunity to use the situation to her advantage. Her publicist assured her that if she played her cards right, this could be a major success for her swimwear brand, Silver Doe. Unlike Lewis' previous "arm candy," Jessy had a strategic mind and knew how to navigate the game of fame.

Her main focus during the Silverstone weekend was promoting Silver Doe and securing the bag. Thanks to her relationship with Lewis, the brand received more attention, but it also came with its own set of challenges. Trying to balance her brand, dealing with Lewis and Xavier, and handling intrusive media had taken a toll on Jessy. But in moments like these, she found comfort in Lewis' arms and their sexual compatibility, which was all she desired at that moment. She prided herself on hiding her emotions, a necessary skill for someone in her line of work, but couldn't deny the pleasure she felt with Lewis.

Gone were her concerns about Silver Doe's success, the media's intrusion, and her overbearing mother. Even thoughts of Xavier were pushed to the back of her mind. In that moment, all she could focus on was Lewis and the contentment he brought her. She knew it was only a temporary escape from her troubles, but she allowed herself to bask in the happiness of being with him without any external distractions or responsibilities pulling them apart.

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, lost in the euphoria of their connection. Their hearts raced in tune with each other, their breaths synchronizing into a soft, steady rhythm. The room was still filled with the scent of their lovemaking, a mix of sweat and desperation, mingling with the comforting aroma of their skin. It was a scent that was as unique to them as their fingerprints, a scent that was intoxicating, alluring, and completely irresistible.

Jessy couldn't help but marvel at the way Lewis's body felt against hers, tracing the contours of his muscles as he slept. She sat up in the bed, pulling the sheets up to cover her naked form. Her eyes drifted over to Lewis, still peacefully sleeping next to her. For a moment, she allowed herself to just watch him without any distractions or worries. He looked so peaceful when he slept, free from the stresses of their complicated lives.

Before long, Lewis stirred awake.

"Hey," she whispered as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey," he replied with a sleepy smile.

"I hate to do this, but I need to handle some stuff for my swimwear," Jessy said apologetically.

Lewis groaned and rolled over onto his back, stretching out his arms above his head. Jessy couldn't help but admire the view.

"What time is it anyway?" Lewis asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's almost 9:00," Jessy replied, checking her phone for confirmation.

"Wow," Lewis exclaimed as he sat up in bed. "I must have really worn your arse out last night."

Jessy playfully rolled her eyes at his smug tone. "I have a lot to do today, so I should probably get started on answering these emails."

"Can't you just stay a little longer?" Lewis pouted, pulling her back into bed.

"I wish I could, but I have a Zoom meeting with my team in an hour and then I have to approve photos from last week's shoot," Jessy explained, trying to free herself from his grasp.

Lewis' hold tightened. "You look stressed, Jessy, are you sure I can't help? One little quickie won't hurt."

"A quickie?" scoffed Jessy. "I don't think you can be quick."

"I just need one more fix before I start heading off to interviews."

Jessy could feel the stress gnawing at him and she knew that he needed additional release before facing the media frenzy of press day at Silverstone.

"Fine," she conceded, leaning over to plant a kiss on his lips.

Lewis felt a wave of relief wash over him as he allowed himself to succumb to the comforting warmth of Jessy's body once again. Her touch was like magic, soothing all of his anxieties and filling his mind with only one thought: her.

As they began to kiss, their passion grew even more intense than before. It was as if they were two magnets, inexorably drawn to each other, their energies fusing in a way that was both exhilarating and breathtaking.

The knock at the door startled both Lewis and Jessy out of their passionate embrace. They reluctantly pulled away from each other, their bodies still buzzing with the remnants of desire.

"Who could that be?" Jessy asked.

"I'll go check," Lewis said. He lets out a sigh as he gets up from the bed, quickly wrapping a towel around his body before answering it. When he opens the door, he sees Kristin, his trainer, standing there with his beloved bulldog Roscoe cradled in her arms.

"Looks like you're here early," he exclaims happily, moving to the side to let Roscoe enter the motorhome.

"I know," Kristin responds with a smile. "Traffic wasn't too bad today. I have a call to handle, but I wanted to drop off Roscoe first. Let me know if you guys need anything else."

"Thanks," Lewis replies, waving goodbye as she leaves. Closing the door behind him, he turns to Roscoe, squatting down to give him some love and attention. "Hey there old boy, how are you doing? You're looking good, huh? Yeah."

Roscoe's tail wagged eagerly as Lewis stroked his fur, overjoyed to have his human companion back. He nuzzled against Lewis' hand, expressing his love and excitement. Jessy entered the room and observed with interest as Lewis played with his beloved dog. Eventually, he looked up and their eyes met, a fond smile stretching across Lewis' face as he took in Jessy's presence.

"Come over so I can introduce you," said Lewis and Jessy sauntered over slowly. She grew up with dogs at home, but she didn't want to make any sudden movements that may scare him.

"Roscoe, this is Jessy, my friend," Lewis introduces the two. "She'll be with us during Silverstone."

"Hello, Roscoe," she greets, her eyes lit up with warmth. The dog barked at her in response, his tail continuing to wag rapidly.

Lewis chuckled at the interaction between them. "Looks like he already likes you," he said.

Jessy reached out to pet Roscoe's head gently and he nuzzled her hand affectionately. "He's so sweet," she remarked, scratching behind his ear.

"Yeah," replied Lewis fondly. "He's been my companion through everything - the ups and downs of racing, traveling around the world...he's always there for me."

"I'm glad I have the chance to meet him," Jessy said with a smile.

"I figured you would," Lewis replied. "You'll definitely see him a lot while traveling with me."

"You say that, but I never gave you a definite answer," Jessy reminded him.

Lewis grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "We'll see."

Not the result that they wanted coming out of Silverstone with P3, but Lewis was nonetheless happy to get a podium and to see his family supporting him. For this, Jessy steered clear of bumping into Lewis' family, but she was also proud of his accomplishment. He had a small break before the next set of races and Lewis decided to take advantage of their brief respite and whisked Jessy away to the beautiful, sun-soaked shores of Ibiza. It was a place that Lewis cherished, having spent many a night on the island partying with friends, enjoying the balmy nights, and the vibrant energy that the island had to offer.

The yacht slowly cruised along the Mediterranean Sea, the sun shining bright in the cloudless sky. Jessy stood at the edge of the boat, her hair whipping around her face as she took in the breathtaking scenery. Everywhere she looked, there was liveliness and vitality: from the crashing waves to the rustling palm trees, and even the distant music that seemed to pulse with life itself.

"This is amazing," she exclaimed to Lewis as he joined her at the railing.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied with a smile. "I love coming here whenever I have some time off."

"It's so peaceful," Jessy mused, taking a deep breath of the salty air.

"Until we get back on track next week," Lewis added with a wink.

Jessy laughed, enjoying his playful demeanor. It was refreshing to see this side of him, away from the intense racing atmosphere.

As they sailed along, they were joined by director Baz Luhrmann and his wife Catherine Martin, as well as actress Eiza Gonzalez. Jessy couldn't help but feel starstruck; she had always been a fan of Luhrmann's films and she also recognized Gonzalez from her role in a popular TV series.

"Welcome aboard!" greeted Luhrmann, "Lewis has told me so much about you."

The director's smile was like a ray of sunshine, warm and inviting as he welcomed them onto his yacht.

"It's great to finally meet you all," Jessy replied.

"We're just glad Lewis finally brought someone interesting along with him," joked Gonzalez.

Lewis scoffed mockingly. "Come on now, that's not true," he countered. "I've brought plenty of interesting people to your attention before."

The day was spent lounging on the deck, enjoying each other's company, and basking in the warm sun. Wearing her swimsuit, Jessy and the group would occasionally take a plunge into the crystal-clear water to enjoy the refreshing ocean. Dinner was an extravagant affair, with delicious food and drinks prepared by a private chef. Luhrmann discussed his upcoming projects while Gonzalez shared anecdotes from her recent film shoot. Jessy took it all in, feeling grateful to be surrounded by such talented individuals.

The night continued with more merriment and lively conversations. As midnight approached, Jessy could barely keep her eyes open.

"What a fantastic day," she said with a yawn.

"I couldn't agree more," replied Baz, "but we should probably turn in for the night."

With reluctant goodbyes, the group dispersed and Jessy and Lewis made their way back to their cabin on the yacht, laughing and reminiscing about the day's adventures. It had been a long but magical day, filled with new experiences and unforgettable moments. As they entered their designated space, they both shed their clothing and headed to the en suite to shower off the night's festivities.

The warm water cascaded down Jessy's body as she stood under the shower head, her mind still buzzing with the events of the day. She could hardly believe that she had spent the day sailing on a luxurious yacht with some of Hollywood's biggest names. It was a dream come true.

As Lewis joined her in the shower, their bodies pressed against each other. His hands immediately found her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger until it hardened into tightened buds. He began to explore further down her body, his fingers tracing circles on her stomach before moving lower. She gasped as he brushed against her most intimate area, sending shivers through her body.

"Fuck, Jessy," Lewis whispered huskily in her ear, "you have no idea how bad I want you right now."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through Jessy's body, heightening the sensations she was feeling. She turned to face him, their eyes locking in an intense gaze as they both gave into their desires.

Their lips met in a fiery kiss as Lewis pushed her against the shower wall. Jessy could feel Lewis growing harder against her, the evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. She ran her hands down his back, feeling every ripple of muscle beneath his skin. Without breaking their kiss, he reached down to lift her leg and wrapped it around his waist, allowing him better access to her.

With a moan, Jessy broke the kiss and leaned back against the shower wall, giving Lewis full control. He took advantage of the position and began to explore every inch of her body with his mouth, trailing hot kisses from her neck down to her breasts.

Her breathing quickened as he took one hardened nipple into his mouth. Jessy felt like she was on fire, every touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. She couldn't remember ever feeling this consumed by desire before.

Lewis continued his exploration, mapping out every curve and dip of Jessy's body with his lips and tongue. His hands roamed freely, gripping her hips and pulling her closer to him. He kissed her passionately as he positioned himself between her legs, teasingly rubbing himself against her entrance. Jessy whimpered in frustration, wanting him inside of her so badly.

"Please," she begged.

"Please what, baby? Tell Sir what you want."

"Please fuck me, Sir."

Without another word, Lewis entered her in one swift motion, filling her completely. They both moaned at the sensation, losing themselves in each other, consumed by a desire that had been simmering all day. Every nerve in her body was alive, sending waves of pleasure through her as Lewis thrust into her with an intensity that took her breath away.

Jessy gasped as Lewis hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of her, causing a surge of pleasure to course through her body. She clung to him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist and digging her nails into his back. Their moans and cries filled the steamy shower as they moved together in perfect rhythm.

Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through her body, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel herself getting close, her walls tightening around him as she climbed higher towards ecstasy.

Sensing her impending release, Lewis slowed his pace slightly, wanting to prolong their moment of intimacy. He leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss, deepening the connection between them.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," she moaned into his mouth as he gripped her hips tightly and gave her long, shallow thrusts.

Jessy's legs began to shake as she drew closer to the edge. Sensing her impending release, Lewis stopped his movements and pulled out of her completely.

"What are you doing?" Jessy pouted, feeling frustrated at being denied her release.

"Patience, baby," Lewis said with a smirk as he turned off the shower and stepped out of the stall. He grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself off before wrapping it around his waist.

Jessy watched him with hungry eyes as he walked over to the sink and grabbed a small bottle of oil from the cabinet. He poured some onto his hands and rubbed them together before turning back to face her.

He motioned for Jessy to step out of the shower and she complied eagerly. As soon as she was standing next to him, Lewis pushed her up against the bathroom counter and spread her legs apart with one hand while using the other to apply oil to her sensitive folds.

Jessy gasped at the sensation, but was too lost in pleasure to complain. She gripped onto the counter for support as Lewis massaged her clit with skilled fingers while gently rubbing oil over her entrance.

"Oh god," she moaned as she felt herself getting closer and closer to orgasm once again.

Just before she could reach her peak, Lewis pulled his hand away causing Jessy to groan in frustration.

"Not yet," he said softly as he lifted one finger coated in oil up to Jessy's lips. "Clean me."

Jessy eagerly sucked on his finger, tasting herself mixed with the sweet oil. She could feel her arousal growing even more as Lewis watched her with dark, hungry eyes. "Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and husky.

Jessy eagerly complied, bracing herself against the counter as she felt him press his body against hers from behind. She could feel his hard length pressing against her lower back.

He trailed kisses down her neck and back.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispered against her ear before biting down on her lobe gently.

Jessy moaned loudly at the feeling, arching her back and grinding herself against him. She wanted him inside of her again, to feel that delicious tension building between them once more.

But Lewis had other plans. He continued to tease and torment her with soft touches and hot kisses until Jessy was practically begging for release.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, Lewis grabbed onto Jessy's hips and pulled them back towards him as he thrust into her from behind. Jessy cried out in pleasure as she felt him fill her completely once again.

Their movements were frantic and desperate now as they both reached towards their peak. Jessy gripped onto the edge of the counter for support as Lewis pounded into her with increasing intensity. Feeling himself getting closer to the edge as well, Lewis reached around Jessy's body and began rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb. The added stimulation sent Jessy over the edge and she screamed out his name. They both came together in a powerful release that left them both breathless and spent.

Lewis leaned his forehead against Jessy's shoulder as they both tried to catch their breaths. After a few moments, he turned Jessy around to face him and pulled her into a deep kiss.

They stood there for what felt like hours, just holding each other close in the steamy bathroom. Eventually, they pulled away from each other and headed to bed, snuggling under the covers as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Jessy stirred in bed, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and warming her skin. She turned to see Lewis smiling down at her sleepily.

"Good morning," he said, his voice husky from sleep.

"Good morning," Jessy replied with a smile. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept like a rock," Lewis chuckled as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"Do you…do you have a thing for doggy style or something? You seemed pretty insistent on it," Jessy asked with a hint of humor in her tone.

Lewis gave her a smirk. "It's one of my favorite positions. But I'm open to trying new things if you have any suggestions," he said with a wink.

Jessy's cheeks warmed and playfully smacked his chest. "You're insatiable."

"I can't help it, you drive me crazy," Lewis replied.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, but their moment was interrupted by the buzzing of Jessy's phone on the nightstand. They reluctantly pulled away and Lewis lazily extended his arm to grab it.

"Give me the phone, Lewis!" she chuckled as she playfully tried to take it from him.

"No way, I wanna see who's texting you so early—" Lewis trailed off as he read the text message from someone asking Jessy out on a date. "Who the fuck is this nigga? And why is he hitting you up for a date?"

Jessy's heart dropped as she saw the name on her phone. She had been hoping to avoid this conversation with Lewis for as long as possible, but now it seemed inevitable.

"Xavier is just a friend," she said, trying to keep her tone even.

"Just friends? And yet he's texting you at six in the morning asking for a date?" Lewis scoffed. "I don't buy it."

Jessy took a deep breath before answering. "I don't know why you're acting so possessive, Lewis. We're not together. You don't think that I don't know that you're out there flirting with other girls? I'm not dumb, so don't try to play like we're doing nothing more than satisfying each other's needs."

Jessy's words stung Lewis like a sharp knife. He knew he didn't have any right to be possessive or jealous, especially since they weren't even officially together. But the thought of Jessy going out on a date with someone else made his blood boil.

"I don't give a fuck 'bout them, Jessy," Lewis seethed. "Why do you even need other guys when you have me? Text him back and tell him no. He can't have you."

Jessy spoke with fire in her voice. "Who do you think you are?" she challenged. "I don't belong to you. I'm not in a relationship and I have the right to make my own decisions."

Jessy got up from the bed and slammed the bathroom door behind her, feeling frustrated and angry. She couldn't believe Lewis's possessiveness and jealousy. They had made it clear from the beginning that their relationship was purely physical, with no strings attached. So why was he acting like this?

She splashed cold water on her face, trying to calm herself down. Jessy looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

But she couldn't shake off the words Lewis had said. "He can't have you."

It felt like a threat, and if Lewis thought he could control who she chose to be with, he was mistaken.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #the fast lane #lewis hamilton x black!oc #lewis hamilton x black character #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #formula one x oc #formula one fanfiction

176 notes · View notes

noirandchocolate · 11 months

Text

RICE Alzheimer's Research Institute

Terry died on 12 March 2015, having given his PCA a run for its money. Open about his diagnosis, he has helped to unlock the secrecy and stigma that often surrounds dementia. His legion of fans is undoubtedly grateful that despite the inevitable progression of the PCA he was able to fight his ‘embuggerance’ and continue to produce a number of both well-received and well-reviewed books. Terry was also a great example to me in emphasizing how important it is that, in caring for people with any type of dementia, we always look for what people with a condition like PCA can still do, rather than what they can’t: by maximizing what is possible, a person can still live well with dementia for a significant time.

--Professor Roy Jones, Director of RICE (taken from “Terry Pratchett: His World”)

I wanted to post something for the Glorious 25th about the Research Institute for the Care of Older People (RICE) in Bath, where Sir Terry Pratchett received treatment for Post-Cortical Atrophy, the type of Alzheimer's disease that eventually took his life. From the organization's website:

RICE established one of the first memory clinic services in the UK in 1987 – a service which has since been widely replicated and is now considered standard and best practice by the NHS. In fact, RICE now runs the NHS Memory Clinic in Bath and North East Somerset on behalf of the local clinical commissioning group and local authority through a sub-contract with HCRG Care Group. To date, we’ve assessed, diagnosed, treated and advised 12,000 people with memory problems and their families in our memory clinic.

Most of RICE’s clinical services and research activities take place in our own purpose built, specialist centre located on the Royal United Hospital site. The building of the RICE Centre was possible as a result of generous donations from major donors, trusts and foundations, and members of the public. RICE moved into the ground and first floor of the centre in 2008. Following the success of the DementiaPlus Appeal and further generous donations from major donors, trusts and foundations and members of the public, RICE converted the attic floor in 2019 to create more office space. This has given us access to much needed additional rooms and offices which will enable us to grow and run more services and activities. We’ve worked hard to ensure that the areas of the centre visited by our patients meets their needs and we regularly receive feedback on how much our patients enjoy their visit to our centre.

RICE not only provides clinical services to patients, but also conducts research into aging and dementia, including performing clinical trials for new drug treatments for memory-related diseases and developing other "techniques for diagnosing, managing, treating and understanding dementia and memory changes in older adults."

Lady Lyn Pratchett is the patron of the organization, and the website includes a page about how people can donate funds or volunteer at the clinic and participate in fundraising events.

SO, if you'd like to help fund Alzheimer's research on this Glorious 25th of May--or at any time--in honor of the Man in the Hat, take a look!

#terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #the glorious 25th of may #research institute for the care of older people #alzheimer's #signal boosting is appreciated too!

656 notes · View notes

elysiuminfra · 1 year

Text

my I Need Money post (AKA, please consider helping me survive my abusive homelife)

Hi! I’m Cecil. I’m a 20 year old transgender artist from Louisiana, and I can make YOU art!

Art is my sole source of income, and I’m in a bit of a pickle. I am an adult now, and I gotta do adult things. like pay off debt. My sibling is 17. We are both victims of abuse and child neglect at the hands of our alcoholic parents. It’s not so great, but I’d like it to get better.

I’m disabled from medical neglect, and have no way to get my driver’s license. I am unable to get a job, as I live too far from anywhere that would hire me, with no way to get there. This is all I got, man! I got two hands and a warrior’s spirit!

My sibling is my pride and joy and I want to see them flourish and thrive because they’re awesome. They struggle with untreated bipolar disorder and a slew of medical problems, and I want to get them treated for it. I also need to take my two cats to the vet. I have debt I have to pay off, and I have to buy myself food to combat my increasingly declining weight. My clothes don’t fit very well anymore. :(

Art and design is my life-long passion, and I’d like to do it for the rest of my life, but I can’t if I can’t get on my feet. If you’d like to view more of my work, you can check some out here, or view some of my more professional work on my commission website here.

If you would like to financially support me, consider commissioning or donating! Even just sharing helps!

https://ckncommission.carrd.co/

https://ko-fi.com/cknelysium

On a serious note, things at home are not great. This is where I talk about what is going on in detail. Details of abuse and neglect beyond this point. Not required reading, but necessary for context. Photos included.

It’s not that I’m just poor, my parents both work full-time jobs, and they manage to pay the bills. I have food and a roof over my head, but I own nothing but debt, and can’t financially support myself. My parents have been neglecting my sibling for years, and neglected me the same. They do nothing to help us.

My sibling is showing signs of health deterioration, likely malnutrition, and they don’t seem to be concerned about it at all. My health is getting worse, too, because my parents have ignored me when I have stated I am getting worse. I haven’t been to the dentist ever since I was a child. I live with disabling chronic pain and intense fatigue, and I don’t even have a diagnosis, since no one will take me to the doctor.

My sibling likely not going to graduate because my parents have not supported them at all with their mental health, education, or support them just in general. They live in total isolation alongside me. My parents are also the reason why I can’t get a job- they won’t teach me how to drive, and won’t provide transportation. I am physically trapped in my own house, and the only people who can drive refuse to take us anywhere. They also will not help clean the house, and they won’t help fix our dryer or washer, which are both broken. They won’t take our pets to the vet. They won’t spare any expenses for things that need to be done. They spend most of their money on alcohol. In my state, we are currently experiencing what one would call abuse and child neglect. This is one of the only times I have ever written, in detail, what my home life is like.

Our washer and dryer, both broken. We don’t have any flooring in that room. The other is part of our living room floor. I am the only person who cleans the house in any capacity, and when I do it never, ever stays clean. The dirt is from my dad alone. I need to cover doctor’s visits, medication, food for my sibling, and vet costs for my pets. I would also maybe like to have a little treat every once in a while. I can’t physically drive, but if I am able to get the money for it, I can force my parents to take care of things. Due to the, er, abuse, I am also isolated from the world at large and have no support system. All things described on my sibling have been happening to me for years, but I’m technically an adult now, so there’s little anyone can do for me. Things aren’t so great, but I think they can get better through blood sweat and tears. Which is why I have to step up and try to do all these things myself! A difficult task, but I want to make art into something I could do as a job. Please lord have mercy, I want to wash my clothes. I can even save up for a car, and teach myself how to drive, so I can finally reach independence. Without financial support, I can’t achieve that at all. I am very stressed about everything. I’m very isolated as a result of not being allowed to go anywhere. I don’t have anyone I can confidently trust with my home-life situation. I have no resources either, as I live in an area with very little support for adult victims of parental abuse. I’ve never made a plea like this before. I just want to be able to live and thrive and survive on my own, and I just can’t do it at this rate. If I can go to the doctor, I can get healthier, and undo all the years of medical neglect and actually hold a full-time job making coffee like I’d like. I’m afraid both me and my sibling will never get anywhere in life, and I don’t want that for them. I don’t want that for me. I want to finally start living. Thank you for reading, and getting to the end.

#pinned #commissions

442 notes · View notes

etirabys · 2 months

Note

What were the major factors for you in deciding whether to have kids?

Unwillingness to forego one of the most intense and unique human relationships possible: "The key to the sociobiology of mammals is milk. Because young animals depend on their mothers during a substantial part of their early development, the mother-offspring group is the universal nuclear unit of mammalian societies."

When I was younger, my major objection to having kids was that it would interfere with my career. I cared a lot about my career and looked forward to transitioning from a student who worked really hard and excelled in classes to a professional who worked really hard and excelled in the workplace and also earned a boatload of money. But then it turned out that I wasn't a hard worker, I just loved studying and taking exams. I don't have a career or the relationship to a career I envisioned, so that's the major obstacle removed.

Seven years ago, I went to a meetup hosted by an economist who liked historical reenactments. His three adult children were in SCA garb, served the guests food from a medieval Persian cookbook, and sat around arguing with him (and the rest of us) about economics. It was my first encounter with a family where the children shared interests with their parents and talked like peers. It fundamentally changed my mind on what families could look like.

Similar story: I visited my friend's family two years ago, and stayed in his teen daughter's room because there had been an in-house auction to determine whose room would go to the guest. She won and was monetarily compensated for it. In addition to having another example of a Relatable Family Where The Members Actually Like Each Other, I found my friend and his spouse's financial philosophy appealing and will be compensated for pregnancy and childcare by my spouse. 20% of my objection to having kids was objection to the financial arrangements of traditional marriage (which imo fucked over both of my parents when their relationship broke down... but more so my mom), so it shifted me on the kids issue to see & adopt a financial arrangement that to me feels more autonomy-preserving, egalitarian, and respectful of my labor and opportunity costs.

I knew I didn't want to be pregnant, didn't particularly like infants, didn't want to interact with toddlers for more than an hour (I like them but get very fatigued and have to go lie face down to recharge), which seemed like a good argument to not have kids. But I also simulated being 70 and childless and it felt distinctly bad. Among other reasons I noticed for the first time that I want a connection to the coming generations, which was startling.

It was hard not to notice that the giant would make an excellent dad, and also that we have complementary skill sets and preferences qua parents.

I read "Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids" after I'd already decided to have kids, but when I was discussing the decision with friends, multiple of them brought the book up. Its basic argument is that we (I suppose I mean Americans and East Asians here) invest in our children well past the point where it matters, which increases the quality of life difference between parents and nonparents, which sucks because lots of people would enjoy raising kids if the unnecessary expectations were dropped. Once I actually read the book I found it suspect (I stopped reading when Caplan described a study and then drew an inference that didn't logically follow), but the conclusion seems true based on observation and common sense. My own parents and I had a lot of conflict over piano lessons because proficiency in an instrument was expected in their milieu. My mom regularly fought me to make me eat breakfast (to this day I don't eat in the morning, my body just isn't made for that) even though it would have been fine to send me off to school with a banana to tide me over until lunch. People trade away health and career points to breastfeed even though the evidence is shaky that it matters. My sister is pursuing a zero screen policy with her child and said this choice significantly increases work and emotional toll. Once I noticed I was the type to be an overworked neurotic parent and that I'd priced my own terrible personality in when simulating how hard childrearing would be, I also noticed I could (with effort) not be that person and have an easier time. So my expectations of parenting changed.

#rambl #dashreplies #parenting #about #I admit I'm also really worried about screens.#but mostly I worry about the interactable apps and the children's video ecosystem. tv seems fine. i'll do more research when it's relevant

93 notes · View notes

bfpnola · 7 months

Note

I am not Palestinian nor am I Jewish. Be that as it may, I hate settler colonialism, even more so as a brown, bi, genderqueer ‘Afab’ person. I just wanted to say. 1) your post on the topic is more empathetic and insightful than I’ve seen a lot of people be about this over my entire life and I’ve asked questions of both sides, I tend to stay out of the fray cause I don’t feel it my place to speak over Palestinians and Jews (who are critical of Israel). But, do you have any advice for being a better ally to Palestinians and combating anti-semitism and anti Jewish racism in the everyday?

hey sweetheart! thank you for your commitment to the movement and your earnestness. i am not Palestinian or Jewish either, so i did what is always considered best: i asked those who are! that's exactly why our Advocacy Committee within BFP exists :)

from one of our Palestinian youth volunteers:

if you have the money to do so, donate to the cause! the unfortunate truth is that to gain access to various resources, things cost money. more specifically, donate to humanitarian aid funds you've done the research for and are sure are doing work on the ground. even better if you can donate directly to those being affected! this includes Palestinians on the ground but also within the diaspora who need self care items, especially for all the work they've been doing educating others. for example, this is an organization this member volunteers with and trusts:

and these are two amazon lists of Palestinian youth within the diaspora:

share posts by Palestinians! the big thing is really just getting the word out, sharing their perspective. Zionist propaganda is hard to penetrate so the least we can do is uplift their voices by sharing!

from one of our Jewish youth volunteers:

understand that not all Jewish people are Zionists and not all Zionists are Jewish. saying the two are equivalent is not only antisemitic but ignores the blatant statistics, like the growing number of anti-Zionist Jewish young adults in the united states for example, or the fact that the biggest supporters of israel are actually evangelicals.

to that same point, know that israel has been purposefully trying to conflate the two in order to then label anyone who does critique the state as automatically antisemitic. it is a tool.

additionally, be careful with the rhetoric you choose to spread & subscribe to (i.e., watch how they describe israel. do they refer to the people as Jews or Zionists? it can tell you a lot about how educated they are and their vague stance on the matter)

my own additions as a longstanding ally and friend of those involved:

learn your history! there is a clear attempt to distort the history of Palestine. learn what Palestine was like before israel's occupation. learn about the way pioneering Zionists openly called Zionism "colonialism" and didn't even try to hide it. learn about how discussions of the Zionist project were discussed roughly 80 years before the Holocaust ever happened. this does not mean that some Jews did not, in fact, move to Palestine in response to such a horrific event, but in the words of a Jewish mutual of mine, israel's rhetoric literally weaponizes Jewish trauma by conflating these two dates in history.

BDS movement! stands for boycott, divestment, and sanctions!

when possible, actually speak to people of Palestinian descent. like seriously. posts are great, but actually speaking to people who are knowledgeable in real time can be so helpful for getting your questions addressed, so long as you are respectful, of course. a great place to do this, not even to advertise, is actually our Discord server linked in our bio @bfpnola

know that language matters, as inconsequential as it may seem. in the words of my Palestinian, Kashmiri, and Artsakhi friends and/or mutuals, when speaking of occupations, we capitalize the occupied people's country (ex. Palestine) while not doing so for the occupier's (ex. israel) to delegitimize them.

learn about Hamas and its history/purpose. here are my notes on two podcast episodes let by Palestinians:

thank you for your ask! im sure i may think of other things later but these are my answers for now.

-- reaux (she/they)

#reaux answers #free palestine #palestine #israel #gaza #allyship #mutual aid #antisemitism #jewish #anti zionism #resources #donations #donate

147 notes · View notes

horce-divorce · 2 months

Text

something something about the power imbalance inherent to being an unhoused person, how similar it is to the dependency that abusers intentionally foster in their relationships to keep victims from leaving. but if you're homeless and someone is putting you up, especially if it's for free/some kind of exchange other than rent, you're basically expected to put up with whatever indignity they can imagine for you and still just be grateful. And if you set a boundary or speak up for yourself in any kind of way, that's Taking Advantage of this poor kind person who's doing SO much for you already, how could you?

sorry its 2am and I'm trying to write a better draft about this for later too but its like. being homeless is a huge, huge vulnerability. ppl people will look to exploit that, intentionally or not. and doubly so if you're homeless because you're disabled.

also something the ableism involved... about how I know so many fellow disabled people who have struggled with homelessness, and we all have similar stories about people we trusted, friends or loved ones who seemed all too happy to help and take us in, and how we repeatedly impressed upon them the nature of our health and the situation, and they swore up and down that they understood and that we were on the same page about boundaries and expectations... only to have them blow up and kick us out at the absolute first sign of conflict or miscommunication, or because we didn't get jobs fast enough, or because we didn't contribute financially even after being told that wasn't expected, and so on.

and how, I know so many housed people who have never been through this, who all have very similar stories about how they tried to help a friend in need once, and they were SO lazy and horrible and took SO long to get their shit together that they clearly were just a freeloader taking advantage who should've never been trusted, just like all homeless people, and that's why we give them socks and canned beans instead of money.

I was never allowed to complain about ableist expectations or abled people ignoring my boundaries in my parents' home. Especially not after I became a disabled adult who still needed help with housing. And that's been true of most of the couch-hopping I've done since then, too.

Currently we have a fairly nice situation... we live with a trusted and pleasant friend. It's a whole house, not an apartment. Not even in the city. We have our own entire room. We don't have to pay rent or anything. It's temporary even aside from our discomfort, it's just been a nice place to land for the cold months.

However. Friends parents are not so chill. Their dad is the most disgusting man alive and has repeatedly gotten us sick bc he's always got something, bleeds all over and never cleans it up, never washes his hands, leaves his dentures on countertops and tables with food still stuck on them, coughs all over our stuff and never masks, is actively making the mouse infestation worse with all the food he leaves out, and puts our health at risk in SO many ways.

he used to work in Healthcare btw. His wife still does. They know we're here bc we're homeless; they know we're both disabled and immunocompromised; neither of them will wear a mask. Both of them are constantly coughing everywhere and not even covering their mouths. We've tried to politely bring this to their attention multiple times and nothing changes. They just ignore us.

We could literally die from this. We could get lifelong health complications even worse than what we have now. Bel lost his sense of taste today and now we're terrified that it's gonna be long covid or something else that sucks what little joy is left from our daily lives.

You lose everything, and then you're supposed to just say nothing and accept your lot, no matter how much danger you're in, because beggars can't be choosers. If you're disabled and poor you'd better just be fine with people abusing you and putting your health and safety at risk indefinitely, because you're lucky they're even helping you at all instead of JUST abusing you.

You dont get to have a home. You dont get to collect things, or keep sentimental things, or have a whole, adequate wardrobe. You get what you can carry with you and what won't get stolen or destroyed by others, or by the nature of moving so much. You dont get to have safety and stability and roots and community. You dont get the dignity of boundaries or your own space. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. And be happy and say "thank you" if people are merely ignoring you instead of actively silencing you. And if the people "helping" you actually give you the thing that kills you, at least you didn't die of exposure, I guess? Or something?

Its just. Every single thing you do as both a homeless & disabled person reminds you how utterly worthless you are to the """normal""" people around you. Every day. It's so demoralizing.

#me #prsnl #disability stuff #homelessness

77 notes · View notes

notyour-valentine · 5 months

Text

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake.

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness.

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive.

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights.

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold.

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye.

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental.

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off.

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud.

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers.

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other.

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously.

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them.

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height.

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both.

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words.

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold.

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair.

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him.

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away.

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered.

His brother’s face hardened.

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath.

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head.

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut.

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either.

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced.

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening.

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race.

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first.

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women.

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard.

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles.

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat.

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath.

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said.

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly.

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible.

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?”

The girls nodded eagerly.

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head.

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked.

Tommy hummed.

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies.

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings.

Just like he had hoped.

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination.

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed.

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets.

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm.

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender.

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more.

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded.

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently.

“Me now.”, the other one insisted.

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes.

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes.

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked.

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm.

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it.

��I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked.

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons.

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers.

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise.

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far.

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he?

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik @elenavampire21 @evanore

#valentineswritings #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #young!tommy shelby #young!tommy #the spirits that i summoned #little diable15k

113 notes · View notes