#I kept struggling with the lighting and setup

[berisims]

I ABSOLUTELY NEED TO ASK 🐰 FOR CALEB AND MORGYN, PLEASE AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR AMAZING CONTENT

🐰: OC in a kigurumi of their favourite animal

THIS IS LONG OVERDUE, BUT HERE GOES!

Also, thank you so much, that's so sweet ;;

And a little bonus with them being ✨💖Affectionate💖✨

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[merrybloomwrites]

A Podcast Love Story

Summary: The story of Shayne & Y/N, as told through a series of podcasts

AN: This story was inspired by a request from someone that tumblr isn't letting me tag, so that's dumb lol

Also, I tried to follow the actual timeline of when these podcasts were posted but I did take some creative liberty, so some things might not match up with when the were really posted irl

Wordcount: 3.4K

CW: very light mention of smut, talk about pregnancy

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SmoshCast #75 – How Shayne and Courtney Feel About Being Shipped Together

Dating someone who’s in the public eye was not entirely unexpected. You live in Los Angeles after all. When you and Shayne started dating in 2019 you decided to keep it a secret for a while. Neither of you were ready to share your relationship with the Smosh viewers yet.

This became more difficult when you decided to quarantine together in 2020 during the pandemic. Two weeks after he returned from Australia, when you were sure that neither of you had Covid, you packed your necessities and headed to Shayne’s. It was nice being together, but it did get complicated when he needed to film videos.

Sometimes you would go for a walk while he was filming. Other times you would hide in the other room. He’d triple check all his footage before submitting it to make sure you, and any of your belongings, weren’t in frame.

One day, a few months in, he and Courtney are recording an episode of the SmoshCast. He sets up at the small dining table in the corner of the living room. You’re on the couch, meaning you can’t be seen on the camera, but you are in Shayne’s view. It might not have been the smartest decision since you’re now stuck there for the entire time they record, but you have a book and a snack, so you get cozy.

You can only hear Shayne’s side of the conversation, so you’re not fully paying attention. That is, until you hear Shayne say, “If we so much as say hi to each other, Shartney fans poop themselves.” The mention of this ship between him and his castmate has you more focused on the conversation. Not because you’re jealous, because that would be ridiculous, but because all of you find it quite funny how hard the two of them are shipped.

He can’t stop looking over to you for the entire ten-minute segment. It’s subtle, but there’s definitely a connection between the two of you. It’s obvious that he’s reassuring you that there’s nothing to worry about. You especially like when he says, “You can ship me with anything. Ship me with bananas.” And you nearly lose it when he says, “I am begging you, please, make a ship edit of me and Kathy Bates.”

They continue to talk and the conversation steers towards how fans make assumptions based on what they see in videos. Shayne brings up how people were concerned about him for a few weeks at the beginning of quarantine. He starts to explain, “I was very quiet in those early podcasts, but the reason was, one, I was not getting enough sleep. I kept staying up late,” here he looks at you before quickly saying, “playing video games.” You again struggle to keep quiet, knowing that was not the truth. Unless “playing video games” has now become code for “having intimate moments with my girlfriend”.

He continues to talk about how his setup for recording was less than ideal and finishes by saying, “I wasn’t sad at all, I was actually having great days.” Again, you share a quick look, showing that you agree with him about how wonderful it’s been since you started living together.

They wrap up the podcast a little while later and Shayne is officially done with work for the day.

“Playing video games, huh?” you say teasingly.

“Oh yea, totally a pro gamer now,” he replies.

“You think so?” you say with a laugh.

“I mean, I could always use more practice,” he answers as he lifts you from the couch, carrying you to the bedroom.

SmoshCast #85 – American Horror Story: Adulting

A few months later and things are looking better in the world. This means a return to the office for everyone. You’d landed a job at Smosh, working in post-production, so now you and Shayne work together. You were nervous about being around each other all the time, but luckily there’s still a fair amount of the day when you’re apart. Shayne is often filming or in meetings or busy writing, and you spend most of the time at your desk working on the next video.

But sometimes, you get a break to see him. Shayne, Damien, and Coutney are filming a new SmoshCast episode, and you sneak in to watch from the back. The theme is “Adulting”, and they somehow start by talking about how they interact with the younger generation. You can’t help but smile as Shayne talks about his niece, endeared by the relationship he has with her. He also mentions grandchildren, which makes your imagination run away thinking about your future together.

You stay for a little while and just watch your boyfriend. He’s not saying anything crazy, or doing anything special, but you love listening to him give advice. You also love how attentive he is to his friends, how closely he listens to everything they say. When you do go back to your desk you take a moment to think about how lucky you are that this man, with a solid head on his shoulders and more emotional maturity than you’ve ever seen before, is your other half.

Smosh Mouth #5 – Shayne and Y/N Share Their Love Story

“Welcome back to Smosh Mouth, I’m Shayne.”

“And I’m Amanda.”

“And today we have a very special guest. We have my lovely wife, Y/N Topp,” Shayne says, smiling at you as he finished the introduction.

“Hello everyone,” you say into the microphone.

It’s weird being in front of the camera. It’s only happened a few times in the years that you’ve been with Shayne. Even though you also work at Smosh, you’re always behind the scenes. You’ve only really been in videos that highlight the crew, so the focus has rarely been on you.

But today you’re finally sitting down to do a podcast for the channel. They’d just revived the podcast after a nearly three-year hiatus.

So much has happened in your personal life since then. At the time that SmoshCast was airing, your relationship with Shayne was fairly new, and you weren’t ready to share it yet. Within a year of that last episode going live, you two had gotten engaged. This led to you guys getting married, and as of 22 weeks ago, you being pregnant with your first child.

“Well, I for one am very excited to have you here today,” Amanda says. “I cannot wait to grill you on every last detail of your relationship.” You all laugh at that, knowing that while you’re sharing more personal information than you ever have before, no one is going to push you or Shayne too much.

“So,” Amanda continues. “Tell me, how did you meet?”

You look to Shayne, encouraging him to start the story.

“We met in 2019,” he begins. “Someone had recommended a book to me, so I was at the library to pick it up. While I was looking through the shelf Y/N came over and started looking through the section as well. We kind of started at opposite ends and moved to meet in the middle. Turns out we were both looking for the same book.”

“No you were not!” Amanda interjects.

“We really were,” you say to confirm. “We basically have the most cliché meet-cute story.”

“Ya, no kidding! So, what happened next?” she asks.

“Well, I had picked up the book first and noticed Y/N glance at it. So we started talking and I told her she should take the book first and I’d read it when she’s done.”

“And then he very smoothly said he could give me his number so I could tell him when I was returning the book,” you add.

“Look at you,” Amanda says. “Making the bold moves.”

“I had to give it a try,” Shayne says with a laugh.

“And it worked. I texted him a couple weeks later, the day before I returned the book.”

“I didn’t have her number,” Shayne says. “And I was kicking myself for not getting it because waiting to hear from her was pretty torturous I’m not gonna lie. So as soon as she texted about the book I asked her on a date.”

“Which actually shocked me at first. I really though he only was interested in the book.”

“Did you know who he was?” Amanda asks. “Like, had you watched Smosh or seen him on TV before you met?”

“I did know who he was. I had just started watching Smosh, so I recognized him but really didn’t know much about him.”

“Did you start watching old videos and try to get to know more about him after you met? Or after he asked you out?”

“I tried not to. I wanted to get to know him naturally, not through videos online. But there was a video posted after he asked me out but before our date called ‘Why We’re Bad at Dating’ and I couldn’t resist. And I truly think it helped us hit it off on that first date.”

“How so?” Amanda inquires.

Shayne takes that question, saying, “In the episode I talked about what I do on dates that kind of lead to there not being a second date. And Y/N/N called me out on that.”

You chime in, adding, “He said he puts on a ‘CW’ version of himself. I told him not to do that. And I admitted to being just as anxious about the date as he was so we should just forget the pressure and hang out and get to know each other.”

“Well, that’s adorable,” Amanda says. “So obviously you started dating and kept dating. When did you take the next step?”

Shayne takes this question and says, “I asked her to be my girlfriend a couple months later. And then we moved in together shortly after the start of the pandemic. Which was slightly challenging when it came to filming at home for Smosh since we wanted to keep the relationship a secret for a while.”

“Yea, how in the world did you make that work?”

“We were very, very careful,” you say. “I definitely hid in the bathroom more than once to stay out of frame.” At this you all laugh, and you add, “Totally worth it, though.”

“Ok, next juicy question. Shayne, how did you propose?”

“So, I hired a sky writer,” he says before laughing and continuing, “No, just kidding. We’d been dating for a year and a half, living together for almost a year at the time. We rented a cabin in Colorado for a few days and on the second day we went on a hike. Packed a picnic, did the whole thing. And I uh, I proposed at the top of the mountain.”

“You guys are literally a romcom,” Amanda quips.

“Would a romcom do a hike proposal? I feel like they’re always at fancy restaurant or the beach. Or like, yelling ‘Will you marry me?’ As the girl walks away down a street in the pouring rain,” you say.

“Oh, a hike proposal is very Lifetime or Hallmark.”

“Good point, it’s totally been in at least one of those movies.”

“Did you like that it was on a hike?” Amanda asks.

“Yea, Y/N/N, did you like it?” Shayne says, pretending to be truly concerned and worried about your answer.

“Hated it,” you say jokingly. “No, honestly, I loved it. Shayne and I always bonded over how much we love nature, so it was perfect for us. I can’t imagine it being any other way. I know a lot of girls want to make sure their nails are done so they get that perfect ring picture, which totally fine, not judging at all. But it definitely felt right that I literally had dirt under my nails and scrapes on my palms from slipping up the hill. Much more authentic that way.”

“And the wedding, anything you want to share about it?” Amanda asks.

“We actually got married in New Mexico,” you say. “It was the central spot for both our families. It was last April, so, beautiful weather during the day. And we lucked out that the temperature didn’t drop too much at night.”

“Very nice,” Amanda replies. “Shayne, anything to add?”

“We kept it pretty small, just family, and close friends. I feel like it was a very typical wedding, but it was ours, you know? So, it was special.” Shayne blushes and you know that your wedding day means more to him than he’s letting on. And that’s fine with you. It was a private event, and even though you’re sharing your relationship now, neither of you want to give away too much about your wedding.

“Aw, he’s getting red,” Amanda jokes. “Did you go on a honeymoon?”

“We did. We went to Hawaii. Neither of us had been before so we knew it would be special for us. We wanted to experience something new together,” you answer.

“Cute!” she replies. “Now, dedicated fans know you guys are together, know you’re married and all that. But there is some news you two have to share that no one knows, is that correct?”

“That’s right,” Shayne says. He looks at you, silently asking if you want to say it. But you can tell he’s bursting to tell everyone, so you give him a nod to continue.

“Y/N and I are having a baby,” he says.

“Hell yea you are! Smosh baby!” Amanda cheers. “Congratulations to you both! Y/N, how are you feeling?”

“Pretty good right now. I’m in the second trimester so my morning sickness is mostly gone, thank god. We’re very excited, got some classes we’re planning to take and we’re reading all the books so I’m sure we will still be extremely unprepared,” you say with a laugh.

“If there’s anyone I trust to figure it out and be great parents, it’s the two of you,” Amanda replies earnestly.

“Thank you, Amanda,” Shayne says.

The podcast continues with Amanda continuing to ask questions and you and Shayne sharing more stories about your time together.

You wrap up recording by mid-afternoon. You have an appointment with your doctor scheduled and since it’s so close to the end of the day, Shayne was also given time off to join you. Everything goes well and as he drives you both home you can’t help but be grateful that the two of you were brought together.

Smosh Reads Reddit Stories: Office Nightmares

It’s been a month and a half since recording your episode of SmoshMouth, and three weeks since it aired. The news that you and Shayne are expecting a baby spread faster than anything you’d experienced before. You’d both received messages of congratulations from more people than you had ever expected: from Smosh fans to Disney fans, and even Goldbergs fans. You never imagined the amount of support you’d receive.

You had the morning off for yet another checkup with your doctor. You get back to the office early, but technically you’re still scheduled to be off, so you opt to sit in as they record the next Reddit Story video/podcast. It’s one of your favorite series currently, and you love listening to Shayne read all the stories.

He begins the third story, reading the title, “Am I the asshole for telling my wife that I’m not taking off of work to be present at our daughters’ birth?”

They joke around for a bit, and then he dives into the story, reading how the man explains that he couldn’t take off work cause there’s a project and they need him there. The wife finds out that’s a lie, and it mad that he didn’t take time off. He says he wants to work more so they’d have more money after the birth, and that the baby wouldn’t even remember him being there. He finishes by saying he doesn’t know why it’s such a big deal to be there at the birth, and even blames the wife’s hormones for her being upset about it.

Shayne, along with Spencer and Tommy begin to share their thoughts on the story. You smile and nod as Shayne makes the point of, “He keeps saying the baby’s not gonna remember, but you’re fucking wife will!”

They even give reasons why they’d understand him not being there, with Tommy saying, “If they were really desperate for cash then I’d get it,” and Spencer saying he’d understand if he were terrified of being around childbirth.

The boys then look over to you and Spencer says, “Y/N, you’re pregnant, how do you feel about this story?”

“Yea,” Tommy adds, “would you kill Shayne if he did this?”

“Oh, for sure!” you call out.

“C’mere,” Shayne says. “You’re probably the one most qualified to give an opinion here.”

You look to Kiana who’s directing the video and she gives you a nod, so you walk onto the set and stand behind Shayne, leaning down so your face is next to his and your voice will get picked up on his microphone.

“What are you’re thoughts on this?” Tommy asks.

“You guys definitely made a lot of great points. I mean, childbirth is terrifying, and I keep trying to ignore the fact that I do have to actually, you know, birth a human. But I know that Shayne will be there and is studying to be the best support person. I mean, he’s read enough books about it, I think he could deliver the baby himself if necessary,” you say with a laugh.

“I will add, if this was the father of my child, I’d wonder what he actually deems important. Because this is arguably one of the biggest days of everyone’s life. First of all, it should be important to him. It’s literally his child entering the world. It’s a privilege to be one of the first people that baby will ever meet. And then, what will be a big enough deal for him to take off work in the future? Baby’s not gonna remember her first birthday, is he gonna go to that? She has a dance recital at three years old, is he going to think that’s silly and not go?”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that, but it makes sense,” Spencer replies. “He definitely seems to have his priorities and being there for his family isn’t one.”

“I truly cannot imagine not being there when our kid is born,” Shayne says. “My worst fear would be if something kept me from being there.”

“Because you’re a good person,” Tommy says bluntly, and everyone laughs.

You head back off camera as they continue on.

After a few more stories Shayne begins another entry, titled, “And I the asshole for eating the last doughnut before my pregnant coworker could have one?” He looks at you once he reads it and laughs before saying, “Y/N’s face says, yes absolutely you are.”

He reads the story which explains that the young employee ate his allotted two doughnuts, and when the pregnant coworker didn’t show up after half an hour, he ate her two as well. She gets there shortly after and explains she had car trouble and is upset to see everyone had a treat but didn’t save her any. Later, the boss pulls aside the employee to tell him he’d been rude to his coworker.

After he finishes the post the boys discuss the etiquette of eating communal snacks in the office before Shayne says, “Also, if there is one thing I know, it’s that you never mess with a pregnant woman’s food unless you want to die.” You laugh so loudly at this that you know for sure the mics picked it up from across the room.

“Y/N, anything to add?” Spencer says.

You walk over again and state, “Listen, all I’m say is that I’m mad you guys are just talking about doughnuts when we don’t have any. Cause cravings are a bitch and now I am literally not going to stop thinking about doughnuts until I get one.”

After moving offscreen you realize you need to pee, again, so you leave the studio to head to the bathroom. Once you’re out of the room Shayne says, “Hey Kiana, can I have my phone a second?”

“Why do you need your phone?” Spencer asks.

“I gotta doordash some doughnuts.”

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AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you have any requests for Shayne stories!

Taglist: @american-girl001 @tatumrileyslover @queenofcaradelle @1nkm0nster

[mackjlee9]

male reader humping konig i will explode if u write this

Welp, I tried 🙂

[reader is shorter than könig -not specified-, codename is night, weird and senseless setup, couldn't think of anything better]

You were slowly walking around the enemy base, looking around corners. The mission had gone sideways, everyone got separated, and you were by yourself.

You were about to round the corner to enter the next area, when you got pulled into a small room. You struggled to break free at first, until you heard a familiar voice in your ear.

"Shh, shh, it's me, Night," you calmed down when you realized it was König, and when his hands released your middle and stopped pressing over your mouth you turned around to face him.

"Why...?" König shifted around a bit in order to get more comfortable, but the room was pretty damn small, or well, him being inside made it feel smaller. After the shifting, König's leg was now placed in between yours, but you tried to not think much of it, there was barely any room in there for both of you, and was already leaning down a little.

He must be really uncomfortable here.

"Next area is filled with enemy troops, it's an easy death," you sighed and nodded as your unfinished question was answered.

"How long are we staying here?"

"For as long as we need, (M/n)," being called by your name by him was still pretty unusual, but you tried to shake off the tingly feeling on every inch of your skin that was touching his.

There had passed a few minutes of silence, only hearing each other's breathing and the faint sound of voices and footsteps, when König started getting anxious, his leg bouncing up and down because of it. The sudden movement and slight pressure in your lower area caught you off-guard, making you hold your breath when a gasp threatened to come out.

"König, stop moving..." You whispered, and he let out a small apology, a barely audible 'sorry'. He stopped moving for a short while, but soon enough he did it again, "König, stop-" you had to hold back a moan when his knee pressed on your crotch, "Fuck..."

You looked away and tried to ignore the feeling, trying to think of something that could serve as a distraction, like the soldiers outside the closet room you were in that could hear or find and kill you. But then the pressure of König's movements changed.

He started slowly grinding his leg on your growing bulge, no longer anxiously bouncing his leg like before, and of course, you noticed.

"König, don't move," you pressed your hand on his thigh, trying to get him to stop.

"I don't mind helping you, (M/n)," you let out a gasp and looked up at him, you could barely see him, but there was a red emergency light on in the closet, and you saw his eyes, looking at you with hunger.

He kept rubbing his knee back and forth while you kept trying to stop him.

When your fingers felt his bulge too.

He let out a gasp and you smirked, pressing your palm over it, applying enough pressure to stimulate his cock. His breathing soon turned ragged as your touch made his heart rate go up from the pleasure and adrenaline.

He reached his hand under his hood, his fingers hooking on his balaclava to pull it down, and you took that chance.

Holding the sniper hood in your hands, lifting it enough to lean up and kiss him. Both of you gasped, humping each other, his hands desperately holding onto your hips to help you move faster against him. You tried to keep as quiet as you could, but König was beginning to get louder, the noises he was releasing making your cock twitch, "Keep quiet..."

He whined, gripping your hips tighter.

"I-I can't~" König started pressing his body further into yours, tilting his head down closer to your face, "Sh-shut me up, please."

Well, who were you to deny him his request?

While König was too busy humping you now, you lifted your hand and pushed your fingers in his mouth, watching how his eyes filled with tears, feeling his warm tongue swirling around your fingers, and you noticed that pretty pleading glimmer in his bright blue eyes.

"You're gonna cum, König?" You asked teasingly, your fingers rubbing the tip of his cock through his trousers. He whimpered and nodded, thrusting his hips up into your touch, grinding on your hand, struggling to chase his high, "Then cum, big guy."

Moving your hand to his hips, you started grinding your bulges together, his whines muffled and you bit your tongue to keep your moans down, wanting to hear him clearly as he came.

König closed his mouth around your fingers, sucking on them and whining, his eyes rolling back as his body trembled in your hold. You pulled your fingers out of his mouth and he rested his forehead on your shoulder, releasing quiet moans as you kept grinding on him, so close to your climax as well.

"'S so good~," he cried out, his hands holding your hips and keeping your body pressed tightly against his.

Staying still, you got down from your high, a few minutes after, when your breathing was steady, sounds of people yelling and running could be heard from the outside, getting further and further away, and you took that chance to get out of that small closet.

Well, it's safe to say you weren't done with König.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi! so according to my close friend who’s also my beta reader, i apparently have amazing descriptions when it comes to character movement and dialogue but what i lack is describing my surroundings, and according to her it makes her only able to imagine the characters ‘in a void’. how do i make my writing more immersive without constantly breaking character action to describe the surroundings (which seems to be all that i can do to avoid that effect)?

i know i’m probably struggling with this because i myself am the author so i can imagine my character surroundings perfectly fine, so how can i still spot and avoid this in the future?

Incorporating Surroundings Into Description

There are three tricks you can use to help you incorporate your character's surroundings into the scene:

1 - Incorporate description of the setting into the beginning of the scene to set the stage for where everything is about to unfold. For example:

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, 2nd paragraph of chapter three, after Katniss describes being led into the Justice Building:

Once inside, I'm conducted to a room and left alone. It's the richest place I've ever been in, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs...

Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon, beginning of scene two, chapter five:

The laird received me in a room at the top of a flight of stone steps. It was a tower room, round, and rich with paintings and tapestries hung against the sloping walls...

2 - Have the characters interact with the environment throughout the scene. For example, your character could:

-- sit on furniture, peek inside a door, or look out a window -- notice decor items like photographs or paintings -- touch or fidget with an object, like skipping a rock on a lake

3 - Have the environment interact with your character throughout the scene:

-- change in weather or lighting and its effect on environment -- sounds or smells related to the environment -- movement or action related to the environment

So, using all three of these techniques... let's say this is a couple paragraphs in, after some exposition:

Andrea stepped onto the patio and marveled at the yard setup. Twenty-four chairs--twelve on each side of a white-carpeted aisle--were positioned in an arch facing the three-part trellis. Bright pink and deep purple flowers stood out against the white trellis, their green leafy tendrils and delicate petals draped daintily over the top of the arch. White fairy lights twinkled from the trellis and surrounding trees, and even in the golden sunlight of late afternoon, the effect was magical. At sunset, it would be breathtaking.

While the bridal party finished their own preparations, Andrea went to the bedroom where her child was putting on their wedding outfit. Outside, the low din of voices was beginning to build as the string quartet played soft music.

While Zen's best friend fussed with their hair, Andrea peeked outside to catch a glimpse of the spouse-to-be. They had chosen to wear a tuxedo with a short black skirt, and although they looked nervous, their eyes kept flickering to the house, and Andrea smiled, knowing their eyes would light up when they saw Zen in their amazing outfit.

So... this scene is going to be a wedding, and we set the stage early by describing the setup of the backyard wedding. In the next paragraph, we have the environment interact with our character by creating sound (string quartet, din of voices) which reminds the reader about the yard setup just beyond the bedroom. Finally, in the last paragraph, we have the POV character interact with the immediate environment (the bedroom) to peek outside and make observations that again root the reader in the outside environment (the wedding setup) but also reminds the reader that the character is currently inside the house, and the wedding will be outside the house.

By using all three of these tricks, you can avoid having your character exist in a void, because the setting is setup initially and actively exists for the reader throughout the scene.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[rojacatmisa]

Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope 

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players?

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought 

2K words

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Next day went slowly. I had a very long call with my best friend Angela during lunch break. We caught up with each other’s life. I missed her deeply but it was nice to be able to talk to her. We laughed a lot about how gayism was spreading crazy in football Spanish teams. Angela was very angry with the special "you’re not allowed to date the players" clause and I didn’t mentioned my growing attraction toward Misa. I was working hard to convince myself it actually wasn’t even a thing. Though, as the afternoon came, the thought of Misa awaiting her first photo lesson kept bumping in my mind. 

 "Holà, Nicky !" The tall and tanned women came in sweat toward me after her training session. She was followed by Hayley Raso. "Hayley wants to learn photography too ! Is it okay ?"

"Sure ! Let’s go in that pitch corner. I’ll show you the basic setups and you can do a few shots to get how it works." 

"Looks like Nicky’s a real teacher !" said Hayley. 

"She knows a lot, you’ll see" added Misa.

We went to the shadowy corner. I showed Misa and Hayley my camera, explained the different buttons and functions. Hayley went for the first shot. Misa proved herself much more willing to be photographed when she was having fun. She made a few faces that made us laugh. I was surprised to see her putting on a show. She actually could be quite extraverted. When her turn came to use the camera, she didn’t remember much of my technical explanations so I had to go all over again. 

"No Misa, it’s not that button, it’s that one !"

"Mierda ! Perdón, err sorry !"

"And put the camera straps around your neck, please !" 

"Yes sorry". She put the straps on while looking at the screen and took a picture of Hayley laughing hard. 

"Misa, I told you to look through the lens, not the screen." She stuck her eye to the lens. "How do I zoom in Raso estùpida face ?" she asked. Hayley was mocking Misa. She mimicked her struggle with the presets and buttons. I was finding hard not to laugh myself. 

"Use your left hand on the lens. There is a wheel, you’ll feel it." She moved her face away from the camera to look at the lens. Her grumpy face was everything. "Don’t move away from it, let me show you. Look through the lens again." Misa put the camera back in front of her face. I took her left hand and moved it to the right position. "Like this. Do you feel the wheel ? It’s there." I put her fingers on the thin wheel.  "Es bueno ! it's working !” She said happily. "Hayley look up, this is your new profil picture ! " 

She started to take many photos. Hayley did more too. We chatted a little about their time at Real Madrid. They seemed frustrated about something without telling me precisely what it was. Misa’s face shut down when Hayley came to talk about the "El Clasico" games between to two eternal rival Spanish teams. She quickly changed the subject to her career in the Australia national team. They gave me back the camera and I took photos of the two girls sitting in the grass. It was the best shots since I started working here. The setting sun was sending red lights onto the pitch, giving the pictures a pinky glow. The footballers were more relaxed than I’d ever seen. I took a shot at Misa’s peaceful face, her eyes closed as she let the sun soaked her skin. 

 "You’re never tired of shooting us, Nicky ?" She asked. 

"The scene’s actually very pretty." 

"It’s because we are pretty" said Hayley and I felt my cheeks growing hot again. 

"You surely are" I admitted as I pressed my eye against the camera, mostly to hide my face. 

"Oh Nicky’s feeling us !" she joked. "What’s up to you ? Do you have anyone ? She asked."

I felt a bit embarrassed but in the same time, I didn’t have any friend in Madrid yet and it was nice to just casually chat with them.  "I don’t. But it’s ok for now. Besides, I just came to Madrid. It’s not that easy to make friends, and harder to find a girlfriend." I realized I just outed myself without even thinking about it. They caught that and looked up at me at the same time. "And one more at the Ciudad Real Madrid" laughed Hayley. 

Misa was smiling too, her intense gaze resting on me, then she looked down at the grass she was stroking with her fingers. Hayley spoke again, "Actually we should hang out together in Chueca. We’ll find a girl for Nicky !" she said to Misa. Misa kept smiling but didn’t respond anything, her hands still smoothering the grass. 

"I’m really ok with being single" I paused a moment. Suddenly my loneliness weighed down on me. "But I wouldn’t mind getting out in town." 

"Great, give us your number, we’ll arrange that in no time !"

***

I stared at my phone and smiled beatably for nearly 2 entire minutes that evening.

***

I was coming out of the train station, clearly not feeling confident. I had looked forward this night for an entire week but now my hands were sweaty and my heart was beating far too fast for a casual night out at the club with friends. I climbed the stairs and came out at the plaza de Chueca. I headed to the side of the metro exit to wait. 

It did not take long for Misa and Hayley to appear. I was so used to see them dressed in sportswear I almost did not recognized the two girls heading in my direction. Hayley was wearing flowing white pants and a bright blue shirt under her bombers jacket. Misa had the same kind of flowing pants but black with a matching jacket but the cutest part of her was the mischievous look on her face. 

Hayley hugged me as a greeting, she complimented me on my outfit, a simple forest green trousers and a short sleeve shirt. I turned to Misa and she hugged me too. The warmth of her body filled me. The smell of her perfume went all around. My heart beat faster. 

We entered the club. It wasn’t crowed yet but according to the girls it was going to be. A few people were already dancing. Misa and Hayley had dropped their jackets at the locker room. Misa was now wearing a very short black cropped top that wasn’t going to make the night easy for me. 

 "Let’s get drinks" Hayley said and we followed her to the bar. 

Cocktails in our hands, we stayed in a corner, warming up by chatting and drinking. Misa was getting impatient to dance but something else seemed to bother her.  

"What’s up Misa ?" I asked her. She pursed her lips. 

"There is a girl over there that keeps looking at me. I bet she has recognized me…"

"Does this happen often ?"

"Yes…" she sighted. 

"Celebrity drawback… you’re a star !" I teased her. 

"Sometimes it’s very annoying" said Hayley. "Hum, in fact all the time. Wait, but this is Lola ! Not the girl scrutinizing you Misa. Hey ! Lola !" Hayley walked away to a tall brunette woman near the bar.

"She’s the Atletico de Madrid goalkeeper" Misa whispered in my ear, waving to Lola. She took a zip of her cocktail and froze. "Oh no por favor !" She turned her back to the now crowded room. "The girl, she’s coming for me !" She stared at me with a pleading look. A blond girl was indeed walking in our direction. She held her phone, looking ready to take a picture. "Come on, let’s dance" I took Misa’s hand and led her, passing right under the nose of the annoying girl, in the middle of the dancing crowd. I saw the girl stop where she was, clearly not knowing how to approach Misa anymore.

Misa and I started dancing. She did a few funny dance steps. Her crazy side was showing out again and I liked it. "Thanks !" she said.

"You’re welcome" I responded almost screaming to be heard over the loud music. "Besides, you look as happy on the dance floor as on the pitch." 

"I love to party. I even mix sometimes." She smiled, dancing in a very endearing all over the top way. 

"You’re kidding me! You? DJ Misa !?"

She pointed at herself and nodded. "That girl is from Canary Islands!" She laughed and kept on moving more loosely. 

The music changed to a slow raggaton one. We set down our empty glasses on the bar, planning to join Hayley and Lola. I suddenly felt Misa s’hands on my back. Quickly, she pulled me close to her as she started a very sensual dance. I was so taken aback I walked on her foot and sweared. My shocked face made her grin. She spoke softly in my ear. "Sorry, spooky fan girl was coming again".

"Oh !" was all I managed to say.

"Nicky, you have to relax or we won’t be able to dance". My body started to unfroze. Misa’s hands were lightening a fire on my back. She moved slowly against me as she conducted our dance. Her hips, pressed against mine, followed the slow rhythm of the music.

It felt like Misa’s first intentions were now heading somewhere else. Without really thinking, I wrapped my arms around her neck and they rested on her soft hair. My fingers brushed her muscular naked shoulders. Our cheeks touched. Her scent enveloped me again. She lowered her hands to my waist. Remember the fucking clause ! I told myself as Misa pressed her hands firmly on my waist to pulled me closer. Remember it Nicky ! She slowly detached her cheek and her eyes bored into mine. My heart was beating so fast. Her almond-shaped eyes had the sweetest gaze. The clause Nicky ! I couldn’t bring myself to part with her. Her lips were just centimeters away… I closed my eyes, so ready for it to happen when another hand gently tapped my shoulder. We instantly moved away from each other.

"Here you are chicas ! We bought you new drinks !" Hayley handed us the glasses. She looked at us suspiciously. I was personally feeling like I had been pulled out a very hot bath straight into the freezing outside. I wanted to say something but Misa scratched her cheek and spoke first. "The fan girl, she was coming to me, so we tried to avoid her." She was taking faster than usual. "And it worked, right? I can’t see her anymore." She looked around nervously. Hayley frowned, still eying Misa suspiciously. I handed her my drink "Can you hold that? I have to go to the restroom." I really needed a break right now.

Alone in the cubicle, my mind was running fast. What was I doing? I had started my job only a month ago. My trial period wasn’t even finished and I was already on good way to fuck it all. My thought came back to Misa. I relived our dance and felt a burning sensation rise again. I had been so completely incapable of resisting her. And yet I had to. 

We came home as the early daylights started to appear. We had stayed for hours but I had managed to keep a good distance between Misa and me. I had danced with Hayley and Lola and Misa hadn’t come close to me again. She had seemed to enjoy the night like nothing particular happened. Had I imagined she was about to kiss me? Had I upset her? Was I going to loose the only two friends I finally had? 

Clearly, I was on a bad slope. 

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Hope you liked it !

Chapter 3 ➤ Calmly panicking

[physalian]

“Endings are the hardest!” / “No, beginnings are the worst!”

I’ve never had a problem figuring out the way I want my stories to end but starting them? Yeash, that’s so much pressure. Both carry the same weight for different reasons while you have writers in both camps with legitimate arguments. One may be harder than the other on a writer-by-writer basis, but they are equally daunting.

—

So. Beginnings:

You have sometimes as little as three sentences to hook readers, at most the first chapter. I don’t even give fanfic more than the opening line sometimes (mostly because fanfic takes opening en media res to wild new heights). I’ve been working on a system of “I have one sentence to give you the setting, the protagonist, and the hook that makes this book different, go” and while it might not be perfect, it’s a starting point.

For example! The opening sentence to ENNS is:

Beneath the snowdrift of the longest blizzard Elias has ever endured, the last vampire in the dungeons has finally succeeded in taking their own life.

As someone who struggles with beginnings, I have given you five pieces of information in 25 words:

The setting, that concerns long and repeat blizzards and snow

Protagonist’s name

Establishing the existence of vampires

Establishing that those vampires are kept in dungeons

Establishing that those presumed prisoners are in such bad conditions, that they’re restoring to suicide, something vampires don’t tend to do

I think I did a pretty good job.

So much of the burden of your book is given to so few words. You can’t make it cliché, but try too hard to be unique and you risk looking pretentious. You have to establish the setting, the narrator, the initial setup and inciting incident and convince readers to pick your book out of hundreds of thousands of other options. I hate beginnings.

Best advice among an avalanche of others? Write a placeholder and come back later if it’s too daunting and frustrating because there is no writing advice that is one size fits all.

It’s entirely dependent on your genre, your demographic, the age of your protagonist and how self-aware they are, the tone of your story, your own personal writing style.

“First sentences should include THIS!”

Yeah, okay, but what if I have a better idea? Beyond that your sentence should have a hook that sets your book up as something apart from its genre neighbors, just go look at the most famous opening lines. They’re all different.

There is nothing in common between

Call me Ishmael.

and

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

And that’s the point.

—

Endings though?

Endings bear the burden of providing catharsis, or robbing you of it. Endings have to answer ‘but what does it all mean?’ and stick the landing, or they don’t. Endings can turn a TV show that took the world by storm for four magnificent seasons and drag it limping across the finish line in a finale that sucks the life out of the fandom forever.

Endings either leave you in an existential lurch staring at the ceiling, or in tears of joy or anguish, or frothing at the mouth at yet another cliffhanger. If you can’t answer ‘what does it all mean’ you have bigger problems than just your final lines.

People don’t have fan theories about your first page, they have fan theories about what comes after your last page. There are no rules to writing an ending and sometimes by its nature of being unfulfilling you become infamous.

Example: The ending of Mark of Athena, that prompted this dedication in its sequel House of Hades.

“We’re staying together,” he promised. “You’re not getting away from me. Never again.” Only then did she understand what would happen. A one-way trip. A very hard fall. “As long as we’re together,” she said. She heard Nico and Hazel still screaming for help. She saw the sunlight far, far above—maybe the last sunlight she would ever see. Then Percy let go of his tiny ledge, and together, holding hands, he and Annabeth fell into the endless darkness.

(one short Leo POV later)

Nemesis wanted him to wreak vengeance on Gaea? Leo would be happy to oblige. He was going to make Gaea sorry she had ever messed with Leo Valdez. “Yeah.” He took one last look at the cityscape of Rome, turning bloodred in the sunset. “Festus, raise the sails. We’ve got some friends to save.”

If you weren’t in this fandom when this book came out and ended with the protagonist falling into Greek Super Hell, to wait a whole year to find out what happens next—We lost our collective minds.

And then the next book opened like this:

Gettin’ a bit big for your britches there, ey, Riordan?

How you write your ending should reflect the kind of feeling you want to leave your reader with. In this case, it was anguish and despair and the pinnacle of “always leave them wanting more”. Maybe you’ve written a character who’s suffered constant setbacks to reaching their goal, and the final line is them at peace with, or without achieving it. Or it’s the final plot twist/reveal no one saw coming. Or it’s ambiguous, leaving it up to reader interpretation.

My favorite classical book ending comes from The Great Gatsby and while I had to crack open my copies of the PJO books, I know this line by heart:

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

There’s just something so melancholy and tragic about it, as it should be: Gatsby is not a happy story. That line is the answer to the thesis, that trying to live in the past and not embrace the future, not allowing yourself to move on, can only end in tragedy, and yet, so many of us do exactly that.

The image of a dinky little rowboat is always what I’ve pictured, as opposed to a ship or something more formidable. A rowboat bobbing around the thrashing waves, pitted against a force of nature it can’t ever hope to overcome, yet it endures.

The book opens on an equally melancholy note, “In my younger years…” as the protagonist reflects back on their life gone by. It’s an American classic for a reason.

Even if your final line is unspectacular, the line isn’t as important as how the narrator feels about the book being over. Quotable hashtags are great, but if the ending doesn’t feel like a proper fit, you’re going to leave readers disappointed.

—

Endings are so fricken fun though, no matter what’s at stake. It’s as cathartic for me to finish as I hope it is for the reader to read. There’s plenty of advice out there on the perfect opener or the perfect closer, the endless arguments over which is harder, and it’s all up to you in the end. They just come easy to me, I have no advice. I can picture them well before I get to the final pages and they just click into place. Beginnings, though? Ugh.

—

Thank you for 300 Followers!!!

[drewsbuzzcut]

This Feeling Is Deeply Profound

Jeremy Swayman x Lyla Blair

A ‘The Masterminds’ fic

Warnings: smut smut smut and slight alcohol consumption

Takes place February 2024

“I fear you’re better at this than I am,” Lyla breaks the comfortable silence that settled over her and Jeremy as they worked through the recipe.

It’s their third date which consists of a private cooking class, so making and eating food with a nice glass of wine. As of late, Jeremy is proving to be a better cook than herself.

“I don’t know. The sauce you made tastes really good,” he compliments which brings a small, appreciative smile to Lyla’s features.

“Well yeah. That was really easy. I’m struggling with this dough kneading,” she says through a giggle.

Her eyes squint up and her cheeks get rosy. It’s a sight Jeremy adores.

“I think I need your strong muscles for this,” she winks at him, her smirk peeking out although she tries to hide it.

She didn’t care how dumb it sounded, she wanted him surrounding her in every way possible.

Jeremy quickly stands from his chair, making his way behind her sitting form and easily slotting his fingers through hers to guide her with kneading the dough. The smell of his cologne invades her senses, and the warmth emanating from his torso ironically makes goosebumps attack her skin.

“Is this better?” He asks, voice deep and sweet.

She tilts her head back, looking up into his eyes that somehow appear shiny in the dim lighting. Lyla feels her heartbeat race and hears the blood pumping in her ears. He’s so close and it kills her to not be able to have him the way she wants to. As if he’s not close enough, he brings his chair around and sits directly behind her. His hands are still laced and helping her, but it’s hard to focus on anything when she can feel his breath of the shell of her ear.

“Yes. See, you’re better at this,” Lyla says in a whisper, too afraid her voice will betray her.

He presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder, making Lyla take a minute to calm herself. This was going to be a long night if he kept doing little things like that.

After the bread comes out of the oven, hot and smelling heavenly, Jeremy helps set their little table setup. Lyla lights the candles, pours the drinks, and Jeremy plates the food.

“This looks so yummy. I got to say we actually did a really good job!” Lyla comes up behind Jeremy, a hand softly resting in the middle of his back.

“We have to taste it first,” Jeremy teases, earning a playful scoff and eye roll.

Though his playful demeanor hides it, Jeremy is trying not to get weak at the knees from her touch. It’s proving to be a challenge.

“Here’s your seat, babe,” he pulls out Lyla’s chair and she almost does at double take at the pet name that slipped from his lips.

“Thank you, babe,” she tests the name, enjoying the way it rolls off her tongue.

They both don’t draw too much attention to the new addition, both just deciding to start eating.

“This is really good, J. We did a good job,” Lyla hums.

“Oh yeah. Told you you’re good in the kitchen.”

“No way, that’s you! You already know how to cook! Yeah, I remember the couple stories you told me about you cooking- which is how we ended up picking this for our date. You were just blessed with better skills than I was,” Lyla rambles, giggles falling between each sentence.

“Well, that means we have to spend more time together, so I can teach you those said skills,” he lowers his voice, pulling her chair closer to his.

Lyla extends her arm out, setting it over his shoulder as they continue their conversation, now facing toward each other. After many laughs and various conversations about many topics, they finally move onto dessert. The decadent chocolate cheesecake wasn’t prepared by them, but made by the cooks who actually work there.

“You have to try this,” Lyla says, eyes closed as she lets out a moan around her fork.

“I can’t have that. Not during the season,” he says, trying not to focus on the sounds coming from her mouth.

“Please. One bite. I promise it won’t do anything bad to you,” Lyla tries to convince him, but he pulls her into a kiss instead.

Jeremy places a hand on the hollow of her throat, pulling her closer to him. Lyla lets the fork clatter down to the plate, desperately holding in the moans she wants to let out. He’s in the same predicament. He can taste the chocolate when his tongue tangles with hers. Lyla’s hands go straight to his hair, gripping lightly so she wouldn’t float away.

“Yeah, I think I want a bite. It tasted really good,” his lips move to her jaw, pressing wet kisses to her skin.

Lyla starts to feel her resolve crumbling. His lips feel too good on her skin for her to continue to act like she didn’t want him. No, not want. Need. She needs him.

“Then take a bite.” A bite of me.

He pulls away, leaving Lyla to blink back to reality. He brings a piece of their dessert to his mouth and lets out similar sounds that Lyla let out. He holds out the fork to her, a piece waiting for her mouth.

She surrounds her mouth around the fork, maintaining eye contact with the goalie. She’s testing him, seeing how much he can handle before he finally makes a move. Maybe she’ll have to make the first move, but she didn’t care because she still loved to see him get riled up. He tries to hide it, but Lyla knows how to pinpoint his feelings. They are the same as hers after all.

The last of their night passes in a blur for Lyla. She’s so focused on the feeling of his hand wrapped around her waist to even pay attention on their walk back to his car. She doesn’t want to come off too strong, but at the same time she wants to get her point across. Hopefully he’ll invite her inside of his place.

“Did you enjoy tonight?” Jeremy asks once they’re settled in his car.

“I really did. It was nice to do something I’ve never tried before- even if it was just something as simple as a cooking class. I’m really glad we did it together,” she responds, reaching her hand out to place his free hand on her thigh.

She watches Jeremy relax into the driver’s seat, looking awfully calm and collected. His eyes are on the road and his hand squeezes at her thigh. She doesn’t know how he manages to look so cool. She’s trying not to combust at the seams from his gentle touch.

“I had a great time, too. It’s nice to step out of being a hockey player for a minute, especially after a loss,” he admits, taking a glance at her when he stops at the red light.

“You and the team will get back on track soon,” Lyla rubs the back of his neck, feeling quite smug when she sees him shiver.

“Thank you, baby,” Jeremy grabs her wrist and kisses her palm.

Lyla has a hard time not reacting viscerally to the second new pet name of the night. She unbuckles her seatbelt, alarming Jeremy, but she starts pressing kisses to his neck and that gets him silent real quick. She holds onto his face, hands on his jaw as she kisses him from his cheek down to his shoulder. It isn’t anything fast or rough, just small pecks to where she can reach without straddling him.

When the light turns green, she retreats back to her seat and buckles her seatbelt once again.

“Do you want to come over to my place? We don’t have to do anything. I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want to leave you,” he rambles and Lyla lets out a shy giggle, accepting his offer quickly after.

The rest of the car ride is silent except for the radio. However, Jeremy does turn up the volume when her song starts playing. It was a nice, unexpected moment of laughter. She’d pay anything to see Jeremy poorly sing one of her songs again.

“Do you have something I can change into? These pants are starting to get uncomfortable,” Lyla whispers in his ear.

If someone were to see them right now, they’d probably get weirded out stares. Lyla is attached to his front, arms thrown around him as he walks up to his front door. They’re whispering in each other’s ears as if they had to be silent.

“Of course. You can have a pair of my sweatpants, might have to roll them up, but they should work. You could also use one of my shirts if you’re not feeling the sweatpants.”

“Perfect!”

“Here’s my room. You wait here and I’ll go get you some clothes,” he walks into his closet while Lyla is left to look around his room.

It’s homey, quite organized for a guy. It also smells like him. There are so many scattered picture frames and they make her smile. She loves that he loves his family.

“I got you a shirt and some pants,” he snaps her out of her thoughts.

“Thank you,” she tries to undo the zipper of her blouse, but for some reason she can’t get a good grip.

“J? Can you help me unzip my top?”

She feels his hands land softly on her shoulders before she hears his response. Her breathing slows at the gentleness of his hands as he pulls the zipper down.

She pulls the sleeves off her arms, her bare nipples hardening as they come in contact with the cool air. She’s still facing away from him, but she can feel the tension grow palpable. After one more phrase of encouragement, she turns around. Her breasts are on full display for him. He tries not to stare, but when Lyla places his hands on her ribcage, he finally takes a look. It’s like every thought and breath exits his body. He doesn’t even know how to react when she presses her chest to his.

He tightens his hold on her, though. He needed to ground himself.

The warmth of her back against his hands is nice, but nothing compares to the heat pooling in her eyes and her core. He presses a bruising kiss onto her mouth, his lips lingering. A burning desire flickers through her entire body.

“I know you said that you didn’t want me to come over for sex, but I wouldn’t mind,” she whispers, and puts his hands on her cheeks.

“Are you sure?” Jeremy feels hesitant. It’s only their third date and he doesn’t want to force her to go through with anything she isn’t comfortable with.

“Yes. Touch me,” Lyla pleads.

A hand on her throat and the other moving towards her nipple, Jeremy pulls her in for another kiss. This time it’s softer, but it still makes Lyla feel lightheaded.

He picks her up and softly lays her on his bed. The neutral colored bedspread looks perfect underneath her. They continue to stare into each other’s eyes as they pull off their clothing. Jeremy’s eyes are beautiful pools of vulnerability, but they’re also laced with lust.

They take a moment to just take each other in. This is new for them, them being naked in front of the other. Lyla feels herself grow wet just looking at his body and all that he has to offer, and he has a lot to offer.

Jeremy’s eyes hone in on the small butterfly tattoo on Lyla’s hip and travel along her curves. Her naked body easily becomes his favorite color palette.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with a tone that’s a mix of astonishment and something that’s akin to love.

He lets a lone finger trace from her collarbones down to her abdomen, and there’s a trail of chills left in its wake. He gets on his knees, leaning over her lower half. His lips press onto the inked skin of her hip and Lyla shoots up, seeking for friction. He never thought someone could be so intrigued with a small tattoo, but he is as he sucks the skin into his mouth to create a hickey.

“Jeremy, I want to touch you,” she reaches out for him.

He crawls in between her legs, hands pressing into the mattress above her head and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

Lyla lets her hands wander all over his body. She loves the way his muscles flex under her touch. He loves the way her soft skin grazes each scar and bruise he’s ever had because of hockey.

All too soon, he leaves her touch, deciding to travel down her body. A quick stop at her breasts leads to her nipples becoming so sensitive and hard as he sucks on them.

Slowly but surely he gets to the apex of her thighs, moving her legs apart to spread her open. He gets the perfect view of her dripping folds.

“Look at you. My girl is so wet,” he whispers, opening Lyla up before sucking her clit into his mouth.

Despite the moan that rips through her throat, Lyla tries to stay quiet. Jeremy doesn’t allow her the chance to silence herself, though. His tongue flicks over her clit, mouth closing to create the perfect suction around her. Lyla’s hips shoot off the bed, her hands gripping onto his curls. The taste of her arousal coats his tongue, brain going hazy and moaning wildly around her.

“J! Fuck. More, please more,” she cries.

Deciding to tease her, he rips his mouth away. His beard shines with her wetness and Lyla swears she could cum at the sight. He dips two of his fingers inside of her, slowly pumping them in and out of her.

“I need to get you ready for me, baby,” he mutters into the skin of her abdomen, lips moving to kiss her tattoo.

“No. I want you now. Baby, please. Please fuck me,” she begs, voice barely comprehensible.

Hearing Lyla call him baby and in her sexy voice makes him want to make her scream. He wants the only thing he hears for the rest of his life to be her voice.

“I can feel you squeezing my fingers, baby. Do you think you’re ready for me?” His lips ghost over her mound.

“Yes! Please,” she whines.

Jeremy rises to his knees, fisting his cock and guiding it to her opening. Lyla watches with a meaningful gaze as he spreads her wetness around her fluttering hole. She just wants to be full of him.

“Shit. I don’t think I have any condoms,” Jeremy states, getting off the bed to dig around in his bedside drawer.

That’s not what Lyla wanted to hear. That’s not what anyone wants to hear as they’re about to have their world rocked.

She thinks for a while why Jeremy is looking in his restroom. She doesn’t usually have unprotected sex with people she’s getting to know. Not even people she’s been in long relationships with, but this relationship with Jeremy feels different. She trusts him so much and she feels safe with him.

“Jeremy,” the call for him comes out weak, her voice starting to tremble because she’s more nervous than to begin with.

“Jeremy,” it’s a lot more clear now.

He walks out of his restroom, a wince painted on his face and his eyes cast down.

“I’m sorry. I forgot that I didn’t have any condoms. That sounds so bad. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting for us to have sex tonight,” he whispers

“It’s okay. I’m on birth control and I trust you,” she stares into his eyes, waiting for his reaction.

“No. I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I swear we can wait, or I can go buy condoms right now,” he rambles, words getting trampled by each other.

Before he can continue, she gets on her knees and pulls him into a kiss. A whimper being transferred to his mouth when she tastes herself on his tongue.

“I trust you. Do you trust me?” She asks, eyes glossy and hands glued to his cheeks.

“I do.”

“Then we can continue,” she nods her head in reassurance.

He presses his lips to hers, hands going to her back and softly lowering her onto the bed.

He lines himself up with her entrance, slowly pushing in so she can adjust.

“Oh my god,” she breathes out.

“Are you okay?”

“Yup. I just need a minute to adjust,” he complies, pecking her face until it’s safe to move again.

Once given the green light, he starts to rock his hips into hers, feeding off her low moans. She fits perfectly around him.

The pull of his hips is slow, deep, and it makes Lyla feel every single part of him. However, she can tell he’s holding back. She can sense it in the way he’s shaking from trying to stop his movements from being overpowering. She can hear it in the way he tries to control his breathing.

Lyla wraps her legs around his waist, pulling his body closer to hers. Her hands roam up his back, fingernails lightly scratching at his skin. He fucks her like he cares and that sets something feral off inside of her.

“You can be rough with me. I promise I won’t break. I can be your good girl,” she wraps her hand around the back of his neck, lifting her head up so she can whisper in his ear.

He lets out the raspiest moan. Lyla grows wetter at the noise and Jeremy can feel it drip down to his balls. His hips start rocking with more force and a faster pace. Deciding to rest on his knees again, he opens Lyla’s legs wider. He presses on her lower stomach and he angles his hips up.

“Oh my god. That feels so good, baby. Fuck. Keep going,” she moans, head tilting back and fingers clutching onto the sheets.

He can feel himself deep inside of her, but when he sees his cock bulge in her stomach, he feels his cock start to pulse. It’s too soon to bust his load inside of her, though.

Suddenly pulling out of her warmth and smirking at Lyla’s grunts, he flips her over onto her stomach. He grips her hips, making her back arch so that she’s face down, ass up. He pulls her back, cock thrusting into her at a lethal pace.

Lyla screams his name, tears already lining her eyes and blurring her vision.

His balls slap against her clit, sending flames throughout her entire body. He pulls her arms behind her back, holding her wrists together in one of his hands. His eyes are glued to the way her wet walls wrap around him. The way she sucks him back in because she’s so tight. The way she makes his cock glisten.

“You like that, baby? You like my cock splitting you open?” He leans down to whisper in her ear.

“Yes!” She shouts.

He lets go of her hands , enjoying the way she immediately fists the blankets. The tip of his length hits her velvety spot and makes her clench around his shaft. Lyla tries to move, the pleasure starting to get to her, but Jeremy pins her hips in place. His thumbs fit perfectly in the dimples on her back, and his cock continues to drill into her.

“More. More.”

Sweat is already starting to gather in the dips and valleys of their bodies, and Jeremy starts to feel his balls tighten. Knowing that they won’t last much longer, he lifts her body so that her back is to his chest.

Lyla rests her head back on his shoulder, throwing her arms around his neck the best she can. Somehow he hits so much deeper inside of her. She lets out the most sultry gasps each time he ruts into her. She turns her head towards his, eyes connecting in their haze of passion. She can see the lust swimming in them. She presses her lips to his hungrily. Their teeth clash and their tongues dance together. Her breathless moans sound perfect right next to his ear.

She bounces her hips up and down, walls caving in and dragging him closer to his orgasm. Both of their bodies move in tandem. It’s crazy how they’re perfectly in sync.

His grunts echo in her head. His noises are smooth and hot. They are the best thing Lyla has ever heard. She wants to place his sounds in the background vocals of all her songs.

Lyla’s breath hitches when he wraps a hand around her throat and lets his other fingers circle her clit. She feels the heat coiling in her tummy, her body quivering against him as she feels her orgasm coming on strong.

“I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum,” she begs, lips glued to his cheek and she kisses his skin hotly as if he needs convincing.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock,” he gives her permission, pounding his hips into hers.

She lets go with a silent scream, pleasure too much for there to be sound. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, but her vision would be blurred by white, hot starbursts anyway.

Her pussy holds onto him with a vice like grip, and he can feel her muscles contract around him. She pulls his orgasm out of his body. His cock exploding deep inside of her while he moans like it’s the best thing ever. And for him, it is. He’s never known pleasure to be so riveting.

He keeps her pressed to his body, hips slowly working them both through their releases.

“Kiss me,” his husky voice whispers in her ear.

Her lips lock with his, but with each movement of his hips her mouth opens and a whimper spills.

He pushes her body forward, guiding her to lay back down. She turns on her back, eyes boring into his. She needs more of him. Although her body still shakes and feels sore, she needed more of him. She’s addicted.

He hovers over her, eyes making a path down to her spent cunt. He leaves a trail of ghost kisses from her breast to her belly button. She watches with bated breath when Jeremy’s hands go back to her hips, his touch sending electricity through her. He lifts her bottom half up, leaning down to let his tongue explore her further.

“I love the way you taste. I love the way you whimper when I do this,” he sucks her clit into his mouth. Lyla whines and writhes underneath him.

He moans at the sight of her leaking his cum. His tongue creeps down to collect their expense, lapping and making the most obscene noises. Lyla’s legs tremble as they try to close around his head, but he quickly pulls her legs apart.

“J, I can’t. Fuck, I want more,” Lyla mewls, body arching up off the bed.

He keeps lapping at her pussy, warm fingers sinking into her. The continuous press of his fingertips into her sweet spot makes her delirious. The familiar burning sensation churns deep inside of her. She quickly feels a second orgasm pounding on her body. Lyla’s body stills before all her muscles release and a loud cry falls for her lips.

She pushes at Jeremy’s head, way too sensitive for him to keep going. Lyla’s chest heaves as she catches her breath. Her previously curled hair is now a mess and matted to her skin by her sweat. Her head is spinning and all she can feel is her heart beating fast. She doesn’t even release Jeremy left until he reappears with a warm, wet cloth to clean her up.

“You did so well,” he whispers as he softly wipes her body clean.

Lyla stays quiet, getting out of bed to use the restroom. The whole time she’s thinking about what’s next. Does she pick up her clothes from his floor, get dressed then leave? Does she get back into his bed? Does he do aftercare? The walk back into the room feels awkward, which is crazy with how intimate they just were. She decides to get in under the covers. Jeremy is still seated at the end of the bed, feeling confused. He didn’t know why she felt so far away.

After he cleans himself up and uses the restroom, he finds her still tucked under the comforters. He lies down next to her, eyebrows furrowing in worry when he sees her visibly shaking.

“Baby, come here. Please be close to me,” he requests, voice soft.

Lyla immediately turns to him, shimmying her way into his arms. She throws an arm over his chest and a leg over his hips. She focuses on his warmth and how softly he holds her.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks into the skin of her forehead.

“Perfect. You’re perfect. I really love sex with you,” Lyla tilts his head down so he’s looking at her.

She leans in, chastely kissing his lips. Jeremy’s hand finds its rightful place on her throat.

“I really like you, Lyla. There’s no one else like you, and I don’t mean that in the way that everyone else means when they tell someone that. I mean, I truly have never meant someone like you. You’re changing my life in the best way possible,” he stares so deeply into her soul.

“Yeah, well you’re changing mine, too,” she whispers, kissing his chest and cuddling into him.

His hands caress her body, subconsciously finding their way to her hip tattoo. Even though Jeremy’s touch is gentle, her body jerks. The red bruise left behind by his mouth is sensitive.

“Stay the night?” Hands that are soft, but rough around the edges continue to stroke her skin. Lyla finds herself melting into his body.

“As long as you cuddle me the entire night,” the girl counters, lips attacking his neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jeremy holds her tight, falling into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: This is a little rough, but the smut will be better once I start writing more for this pairing! Otherwise, I hope y’all enjoy!

[thephloxbayou]

I've watched the videos. I can handle watching such horrible things a lot better than other friends who do care very much about the situation (saying generally, ie Floyd and others I did the same) and i can be the buffer to confirm information. It helps me fight back against other white people who spout Fox bullshit when I can be very specific and have seen the footage. I also feel it is solidarity rather than making a spectacle, I am aware this is what many people LIVE with and it is often kept from my eyes.

A short rundown of points in the video for people who can't watch:

Dashcam footage was mentioned before as being part of what would be released, but I have not seen it released. However they are now saying with "available footage" that they "cannot substantiate " the reckless driving claim.

We do however see the officers pull up to him via body cam, and immediately start shouting threats to his life and pull him out of the car. For a supposed traffic stop. He is at a red light with a turn signal. He is calm. Frightened, but being as calm as he possibly can to deescalate them.

They constantly through the video give commands he cannot follow due to their restraint or positioning, i.e. one officer demanding his hands while another is holding his other arm away, telling him to lay on his stomach when they have both arms under their control, a tazer pressed to his leg as a threat, and are standing in front of his body, which would make rolling over very awkward (he is laying on his side)

He gets a chance as they force him to roll over and runs. For anyone arguing this, I will make it clear he was never aggressive, was calm, doing his best to be obedient, and these cops were VERY escalated for no reason. If you thought cops were going to beat the shit out of you ever, that moment was definitely it.

Let me also note it is now known most of these cops were from a special unit meant to _descalate police violence_

The videos I have seen so far only show one cop pulling up. The rest are all at this point, after he has run, as they pull up on him being restrained

Most if not all of these cops seem really fucking out of shape and pissed they "had" to run/struggle with him. Many are out of breath and leaning over, hands on knees, as they take turns beating Tyre. Also that they pepper sprayed him and got it in their own eyes.

The pole cam footage is extremely clear. Cops hold him up by the arms as another wails on him. Another whips out his baton (again, while this man is restrained) and starts beating him. Some run up and kick him while he is on the ground. If you took a movie of a hero being tortured by the bad guys, the setup was just like that. No ambiguity or mess of bodies. Just very clearly holding him for someone else to beat him.

Most of his movement is response to being repeatedly maced, like flinching, curling up, or reaching for his face. They act like these are escape attempts and reason to continue to "restrain" him.

He is often in a position in which he is restrained and cannot run. There is no escape or need to subdue, yet they continue.

When he is beaten to the point of being unable to react anyone, they mill around, talking about how much their knees hurt or are out of breath. Two fist bump. More officers are on scene by now, all just milling about casually. They walk over and observe him with flashlights, but not in an observation manner concerned about wellbeing (this sounds vague but the distance/body posture on the video is very clear on it).

He is mumbling and slurring due to injury. They say loudly, for the benefit of the new cops, that he is as high as a kite a few times. There is no mention of him being high until he is slurring, and no slurring until he has been heavily beaten. He is coherent and clear up until then.

It's all fuckin horrible and disturbingly casual. But we've seen it plenty of times if only from one camera angle, and this, currently, has 4. They say it's not normal police conduct because they can't talk around the proof, when we all know it is. I don't know what else to say here.

[mdhwrites]

My Thoughts On the Pilots Being Leaked

For an ongoing work, I am against leaks PERIOD. I have unfollowed artists for Star Rail who shared leaks because not only do I not want to know what's going to happen, I think it's damaging to both fans and creators. It splits people, often causing some fans to feel like they have to hide from the fandom to not be spoiled. It can sometimes ruin a moment, or even make it be misinterpreted without context, which destroys the work the creator put into it. It can damage the success of a work by ruining the cycle of marketing and hype for it. It can also be EXTREMELY rough for creators emotionally because what was meant to be a moment of celebration has suddenly turned into damage control.

Leaks are fucking awful... For ongoing projects.

What has been leaked for Disney cartoons over the past decade and a half, potentially further I don't know, has all been for things that either never got released or are finished works. They are also content that would have, 99% of the time, never seen the light of day without being leaked. There is no hype cycle for them to ruin. There is no damage control that the creator needs to do because of it being put out there and the network wanting them to help repress it. Not knowing about scrapped media for a work is okay fandom wise so fans don't have to hide from it or split amongst themselves for whether they've seen it or not. It can't be misinterpreted against the creator because we know this isn't what they went with, very explicitly since it never aired. All the problems for an ongoing project aren't here.

In return, we get glimpses into how the animation industry works, how these creations go from concept to fruition, things that are kept pretty arcane to the vast majority of people. Disney especially loves to curate their personal image and only let out certain stories about their works, hence why they don't like letting the documentary about The Emperor's New Groove's making, which is BRUTALLY HONEST about the creation of that movie with responses from animators and staff while the film is in progress, be seen by ANYONE if they can help it. It also helps aspiring directors to see what they need to do in order to potentially get their projects out there instead of just having to follow vague advice for what a pitch bible looks like or even thinking that it needs to be the absolute final draft of their project, rather than a living document like it appears to be more commonly.

The only real downsides I can think of are A: they do allow concepts to not be reused as surprisingly by a creator but these are pilots. Their jobs are to setup a story and so if a creator still reuses a concept here for a full work, that just means that now they get to explore it properly. B: It's embarrassing for the creators because it is old, sometimes unfinished work. That... shrug I sympathize with that.

C: It causes fans to question why certain elements weren't used instead. I've already had to do a blog about how the pitch bible for TOH is actually not much better than what we got and the clear reasons why TOH likely made the changes they did as what was portrayed by the pitch bible would have meant an even larger scope than in the show we got. You know, the show that always struggled under the weight of its scope and cast size. But a lot of people have been looking at it and the pilot and thinking that it would have been strictly better than what we got which can cause some parts of the fandom to potentially be cruel to parts of the work they wouldn't have otherwise. It also means creators may be bothered by questions about the pilot when the pilot isn't actually important to the work itself. It was scrapped for a reason and while it's cool to see where it came from and can be educational, it shouldn't be used to condemn the show simply for now not having an element from the scrapped content. That's not fair to the work or the creator.

I am personally on the side that the educational and insight value from these pilots outweighs these problems but I could see myself changing my tune if I start hearing about fans leaning into this last problem. Treating scrapped content as only okay if it is objectively worse than what we got. That's not fair, especially since what a creator decides to include is a very delicate balance of a lot of elements, a lot we can't usually see without the broader context of the next steps beyond the concept as presented. How it actually needs to function in execution.

This is your constant reminder that the only perfect work is the one that is never made. It's a lot easier to pitch the perfect concept than it is to write it, so don't let this stuff be the end all be all for what would have been 'best'. Let them simply be the educational curiosities that they are instead.

See you next tale.

======+++++======

Don't think all of this just applies to corporate work btw. I have stuff I haven't published myself, including an entire novella, because it didn't work and so had to simply be thrown away. The reasons for each are pretty complex, ranging from just how it all came together, how it would damage the rest of a work or how I decided that my audience clearly weren't interested in the thread I was pulling so ending it one chapter faster was probably for the best. It's complicated and we should remember to be respectful of that.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[nordschleifes]

chapter seven — el perdedor

➝ when that fateful day in montreal is repeated in belgium, charlie is sure that the fairy tale with fernando has come to an end. she just didn't expect that she hadn't been the biggest loser that afternoon.

➝ word count: 7,3k

➝ warnings: fight, cursing, bribery, an angry cat, smut

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Sitting inside the plane, tears were streaming down Charlie's cheeks. She was trying not to cry in earnest in fear of disturbing the two other passengers beside her, a man dozing against the window and a woman in the middle seat who was immersed in the movie. But, she wanted to. She needed to. She needed to get all the frustration and anger consuming her out.

She needed to do something other than ruminate on the fact that the fairy tale of just over two months between her and Fernando was over, ending in the worst possible way.

Fernando had just come off of an incredible streak, one that not even the most optimistic of his fans could have imagined. After the unsatisfactory race in Barcelona, he was fully motivated to get back onto the podium in Montreal.

— It was like I said yesterday, that was our last race off the podium, nena — Fernando had murmured to her, the morning before the first free practice of the weekend, while they were still in bed together.

Driven by that desire to turn the tables, the two agreed to use a more aggressive setup than Lance's. However, against Max Verstappen's practically unstoppable RB19, they needed much more than a good strategy and a perfectly tuned car.

They needed luck.

— Is Max in trouble? — asked Fernando, a few laps after his first stop, during the safety car caused by George Russell. At that point they were in second place, more concerned with fending off Lewis Hamilton than chasing the championship leader through the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.

— He hasn’t reported anything, why?

— He’s braking too early in the turns.

— Understood, I'll check — she said as her eyes scanned the telemetry charts, comparing the two drivers' lines and noticing that Max's braking line was longer and smoother than Fernando's. “Something's wrong”, Charlie kept repeating to herself, as he watched the lap times continue to fall, lap after lap.

Then, Charlie got a message from Max, in a way. The engineers at the race support room in Silverstone informed her that he had complained of overheating brakes and had been advised by the team to cool them. After a brief conversation with them about what to do and the possibility of Max retiring, she opened the radio channel with Fernando.

— Max has problems with his brakes. Difference dropping one second per lap. It's time to attack, Fer.

— Copy — he replied.

Watching him chase the RB19 around the track like a predator was fascinating to Charlie. The way he found the tenths of a second in each curve, passing within what seemed like millimeters of the Armco barriers sent a shiver through her body. It was sensual, wild, a kind of dance.

— You have DRS available — she said, as soon as she saw the three letters light up on the screen, an indication that Fernando had closed the gap enough. The closest he'd been all season.

And then, at the hairpin, when Max braked, his wheel locked. Losing the apex of the corner, he headed towards the gravel trap, opening the door for Fernando to pass and take the lead on the Casino Straight.

— Yes! C’mon! — he said into the radio, as Charlie took a deep breath, trying to contain herself as much as the garage cheered effusively. She had to concentrate on helping him build up a lead over Lewis, while Verstappen struggled with his own car before pitting and retiring.

When the dark green car crossed the finish line, she felt like she was on cloud nine. On the other side of the radio, Fernando roared in celebration, as if he was letting off the pressure of ten years without a win in Formula 1. All those years of frustration, doubts and challenges in other categories, in search of that feeling, that moment, those seconds when the work had finally come to fruition.

It was a mission accomplished. The plan had finally worked.

Meeting him after the race, drenched in sweat and champagne, was another thrill. The effort not to kiss him right there in the pit lane, in front of the world, was overwhelming, despite him not making an attempt to hide his delight at seeing her. He hastily shoved the first place trophy in the hands of his press officer to run towards her, picking Charlie up and twirling around with her in his arms.

— Thank you, thank you, thank you — Fernando repeated in her ear, while she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks — Thank you so much.

— I have to thank you — Charlie said softly as he set her down on the ground — You're amazing, Fer.

— And you're beyond amazing, nena — he replied, before hugging her again, the champagne that was still on his overalls soaking into the front of her uniform polo, leaving a damp spot.

Two more wins followed, one in England and one in Hungary. At both races, the feeling of seeing him happy and on top of the podium was sublime for Charlie, not just because she'd done her job well and helped him achieve his goals for the weekend. It was the smile on Fernando's face, the pride in his eyes when he heard the notes of the Spanish anthem, the way he hugged her when he finally saw her in the pit lane each time.

And just when everything seemed perfect, everything fell apart.

Sunday's race at Spa, the last before the summer break, had been a replay of that catastrophic afternoon in Canada when they were both at McLaren. When Charlie heard Raúl tell her that there was a problem with the fuel consumption, a pit formed in her stomach.

This couldn't be happening again. It couldn't. She didn't deserve this, Fernando didn't deserve this, especially not when they were so close.

— The injection system is feeding the power unit erratically, consumption is above normal — the performance engineer said, pointing to the screen where the graphics foreshadowed the impending disaster.

Charlie felt her heart pounding in her chest.

— Is there anything we can do?

— At that point, all we can do is retire the car to see if we can save something from this power unit.

— Is that coming from mission control? — she asked, trying to buy herself some time to try to put into action some breathing exercise Hannah had taught her.

— Yes, and Mike already gave the okay.

Heaving a sigh, Charlie pressed the button next to Fernando's name.

— Fer, we have a problem that we can’t resolve. We're going to have to retire the car — she said, as she braced herself for a catastrophic response. An outburst of curses or worse, him fighting with her over the radio. “Please, Fernando”, she begged mentally, while he remained silent, seeming to process the information that his race was over.

— Understood — the driver muttered.

As soon as the car pulled up in front of the garage, Charlie took off her headphones and left them on top of the pit wall. She was beside herself with sadness and dread. She tried to assure herself that the team made the best decision for their championship ambitions, she couldn't help but think of how frustrated Fernando would be about it.

At that moment, it was killing her.

She watched as he climbed out of the car and handed Mikey, his mechanic, his HANS device, and walked toward the back of the garage without even taking his helmet off. Charlie ran after him, crossing the pit lane to try to catch up.

— Fernando! — she exclaimed, as he walked towards the paddock — Wait, Fernando.

However, Fernando continued to ignore her, making no effort to take his helmet off as he walked into the Aston Martin motorhome. The guest area was full, and all eyes were fixed on him, then on her. "I must look like an idiot", Charlie thought to herself, as she climbed the stairs. 

She was out of breath by the time she reached the door of Fernando’s drivers room, but the door was open. She could see that he’d finally taken off his helmet and balaclava, his hair damp with sweat and sticking up at odd angles.

— Fer...

— What? — he asked gruffly, as he unzipped his overalls, revealing his black fireproofs.

— I'm sorry — Charlie said quietly.

The driver stared at her, not seeming to believe what she was saying.

— You’re sorry? Do you think that being sorry is of any use?

She blinked, stunned.

— I…

— Your sorry does me no good, because, in the end, I'm not on the track. I'm not doing what I love to do!

— I know…

— Why didn’t you let me stay out? — Fernando exclaimed, taking a step forward — Why didn't you ask me if I could continue?

— The car wouldn't have made it to the flag — Charlie stammered, her hands feeling clammy and cold.

— I could have figured it out, I could have.

— There was an issue with the fuel injection system, there was no way to keep going without severely damaging the rest of the power unit...

— Of course, for you there's never a way to keep going. The solution for you is to always accept the circumstances and do nothing.

— I never said we shouldn't do anything — she snapped.

— But you accepted that there was no resolution instead of talking to me and analyzing the alternatives.

— Do you think there's time to debate options in the middle of a race? Especially with you going 300km/h?

— It’s better than taking whatever shit life throws at you! You've been doing that since your McLaren days, haven’t you?

— Fernando, we don't need to talk...

— Actually, we don't need to — he said, cutting her off — You know I'm right. You know you’d been content for too long with that shitty team, with that fucking engine, and now that you have a chance to fight for more, you give up, just like you’re back there.

Charlie swallowed hard. Fernando didn’t know it, but by the end of her time at McLaren, she felt like she had stayed with the team far longer than she should have. Her working environment there was chaotic, made worse by the issues with the Honda and Renault engines, and the team’s inability to be competitive. But McLaren had taken her on fresh out of university and gave her a career in Formula 1, so she felt obligated to stay out of gratitude, even as things deteriorated season after season.

— You know why I was there so long...

— You stayed for the worst reason possible — he exclaimed — Staying only because your grandfather only likes English teams, that's ridiculous!

— He has his reasons...

— Stupid reasons that had you stick with a shitty, uncompetitive team when you could’ve moved on to bigger and better things! — Fernando shouted.

— Why does it matter? — Charlie said, raising her voice to match.

— It matters because you keep acting like you still work for McLaren and that all you can do is just give up! 

The rational part of Charlie begged her to turn her back and leave Fernando talking to the walls, to leave him to take out his own frustration with the awful afternoon he'd had. However, she couldn’t help but stand there.

— What do you mean by that?

— You keep acting like a fucking loser!

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

— A loser? — she murmured, feeling her throat tighten and her lower lip quiver.

— Yes, that’s what I said. Are you deaf?

— Fernando…

— Charlotte, just get out of here and leave me in peace.

She thought of thousands of things to say at that moment. However, all Charlie could think to do was to leave the room. She walked to the engineers' office to pick up her backpack, feeling disoriented. “I have to go, I have to get out of here”, she thought, as she walked out of the motorhome, down the paddock, straight through the exit turnstiles, all without pause.

While waiting for the Uber, Charlie sent a quick message to Raúl, making up an excuse for having to leave before debriefing with Fernando. The last thing she needed was for him to say even worse things in front of everyone else.

In less than three hours, she was flying back to England without a second thought. There was no reason for it. It was all over.

— Miss? — someone said, touching her shoulder as she stared out the window. Charlie startled a bit before turning her head to see that there was a flight attendant standing in the aisle, a worried expression on her face — Do you need anything?

She hesitated for a few seconds, her mind searching for something plausible to say.

— No, I’m okay.

— Are you sure?

— Yeah, it's just something in my eye — Charlie lied, rubbing at her eyes in an effort to cover for herself.

— Well, if you need anything, we're here for you.

— Thanks — she replied, giving a sheepish smile.

After landing, Charlie drove to her grandparents' house to pick up Ron. Her grandparents always watched Charlie’s cat while she was out of town. As she put the cat’s carrier in the back seat, Amanda asked about her puffy eyes and red nose, irritated from rubbing it on the sleeve of her team sweatshirt.

— I'm fine, grandma, don't worry — Charlie said, as she sat in the driver's seat, forcing a smile.

If only she believed what she was saying.

Returning to her empty apartment was dismal. It was the start of summer break for Charlie. For the next four weeks, there would be no Formula 1, no traveling, no simulations to analyze, no videos to watch, no plans to make.

In a way, it was a good thing, as it would give Charlie the time and attention to focus on other things. She was determined to use the break wisely. She had a bookcase to assemble after buying it for her office over three months ago. There was a faucet in her kitchen that was leaking and needed to be fixed. She needed to organize her vinyl record collection after dismantling it to find one specific record to show Fernando during a video call — one of what seemed like hundreds that they’d had over the past few months.

“Forget about him”, Charlie told herself, shaking her head in order to physically push the thought away. He was part of the past, a reminder of something that no longer existed. The Fernando of the past few months was just a ruse. The real Fernando was the guy she’d known for so long. The real Fernando was the two-time world champion, demanding and uncompromising, who said and did what he wanted without regard for how his actions affected other people. The Fernando that she’d come to like was just in Charlie’s imagination, he never really existed, not even in her dreams.

 "Was it all just a lie?", she asked herself, as she laid down on the bed with Ron purring at her feet.

She fell asleep with that question on her mind.

The first week of the summer break was tedious. Charlie busied herself with household chores, trips to the factory, and visits to her grandparents, not allowing herself a moment to think. It was intentional — she wanted to distract herself and not allow herself to imagine what it would be like to spend her summer break in Switzerland, especially not at a particular villa in Lugano.

But the second week was torture. With the factory on lockdown and a mandated restriction on the work she could do, her avenues for distraction were limited. She’d accomplished all of the chores around the house she’d wanted to do, as well. With no reason to leave the house, she found herself trapped in a cycle that consisted of drinking wine, watching LOST and feeling frustrated every time her cell phone’s screen lit up and it wasn’t Fernando.

After what had happened at Spa, she hadn't received any calls or texts from him. In fact, it was as if he had disappeared entirely, as not even his Instagram had been updated after the race. Charlie didn't want to admit it, but the lack of updates made her more anxious. She couldn’t even find recent photos from fans that had him tagged. What kind of Formula 1 driver was he to not post a single photo of his summer vacation?

That was the question she asked herself on Saturday night, when the doorbell to her flat rang.

— I’m coming, calm down — Charlie yelled, as she set her glass of wine on the coffee table and extricated herself from her sofa. She’d been lying on it with Ron on her chest for the last few hours, watching something mindless on television. It was strange for someone to ring her doorbell, and her first thought as she opened the door was that it would be Rita, her elderly neighbor, asking for her help with something.

But, it wasn’t Rita. 

Standing in the doorway, wearing a black T-shirt, looking forlorn with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, was Fernando. However, it wasn't the clothes or the messy hair that caught Charlie's attention. It was the sadness present in his eyes.

— Good evening — he said softly.

— What are you doing here? — Charlie asked, her voice as dry and unimpressed as she could make it.

— I came to see you.

She snorted.

— As far as I last knew, you said you didn't want to see me anymore.

The driver let out a heavy sigh.

— Can we talk?

— We're already talking.

— Somewhere more private, I mean.

Charlie pursed her lips. Her neighbors definitely didn't need to see her arguing with Fernando Alonso in the hallway. She stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. He couldn't help but smile as he walked past her, into the living room of her flat.

Closing the door, Charlie took a deep breath before turning towards him. The driver was standing in the middle of the living room, looking around curiously. Seeing him in her flat gave her an odd feeling, until she realized something.

That was the first time he’d been to her flat.

— How did you find my address? — she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

— I spoke with HR — Fernando replied with a smile.

— And they gave you my address without saying anything?

— Of course not. They told me they couldn't hand over sensitive information about another employee, even someone who works closely with me. I tried to argue that I needed your address to send you a birthday gift, but they didn’t buy that.

She blinked.

— My birthday isn’t until October.

— I know.

Charlie hesitated, trying to puzzle out the situation.

— So, how…

— I made a personal appearance in the HR office and had a conversation with an intern. If you want an important tip for life, always have an envelope with you, you never know when you'll need it.

Charlie was shocked.

— You bribed an intern to get my address?

— Bribery is a very strong word, Charlie.

— How else would you describe it?

— I prefer “gratitude for services rendered”.

Running a hand over her face, she couldn't believe what he had done.

— And how much did my address cost?

— Less than Lewis’ mechanics cost me in 2007, that's for sure.

— How much? — Charlie repeated the question, placing a hand on her hip.

— A hundred pounds and an autograph.

She snorted, half outraged, half impressed by his audacity. Charlie couldn't fathom how troublesome that had been. Bribing someone for personal information could lead to serious problems within the company, both for him and the intern. But at the same time that she was pissed off, a part of her was in awe of all that effort on his part.

— What do you want, Fernando?

— I already told you, I wanted to see you.

— Well, if that's all, you’ve seen me, so you can go now.

— Charlie — he murmured, in a sad tone — I want to talk…

— What could we possibly have to talk about, Fernando?

— Charlie, you know what we have to talk about, and that’s what happened in Spa…

She shook her head.

— If you skipped out on your vacation to come to Northampton…

— Charlie...

— Just to complain about your fucking fuel injection system, you can leave right now, because I won't listen to any more of it…

— Fuck, Charlotte, I came to apologize! — he exclaimed, interrupting her.

Charlie felt her heart skip a beat.

— But…

— I came here to apologize to you — he repeated, in a lower tone — I came here to tell you that I was an asshole to you, and I’m sorry. I was upset about what happened at the race, but I shouldn't have any of the things I said to you.

— But you did say those things — she whispered.

— And I regret every word of it — Fernando continued — I regret saying that you act like a loser, I regret saying that your reasons for staying at McLaren were stupid. What I regret most, though, is when I asked you to leave me in peace.

— Why? — Charlie asked, feeling her throat tighten.

— Because it’s been horrible. It hasn’t been peaceful at all. Not having you by my side is the worst thing in the world, Charlotte. If living in peace means not having you with me, I would rather live in hell.

— Fer...

— I'm serious, Charlie — he said, stepping forward — I don't want you to leave me in peace. I want you to make every second of my life hell. Make my life an eternal torture if you need to. Please, make my life hell. 

Her eyes burned with tears.

— I accept everything you do to me if it means I find heaven on your lips — Fernando whispered, his eyes wet — Torture me, destroy me. But please, don't leave me, Charlotte. Don't leave me alone. Because that is the real hell. 

Charlie's lower lip quivered as her chest filled with a familiar, overwhelming warmth. Leaving Spa like she had had been horrible, almost as if she was leaving her own heart behind, and she’d found out the hard way that it was exactly what she’d done.

When she turned and left Fernando’s driver room, she’d left her heart with him.

— Come here, dickhead — she finally said, opening her arms.

Fernando stepped towards her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. With her head nestled against his neck, Charlie closed her eyes and allowed the tears that had been building to spill down her cheeks onto the fabric of his T-shirt. A few seconds later, he pulled back slightly, looking down at her. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were damp.

— Thank you — he whispered, resting his forehead on hers.

— For what? — she asked quietly.

— For not giving up on me.

She smiled as she brought a hand to his face, gently cupping his cheek.

— If I didn't give up on you even when you were the biggest asshole in the world, I wouldn't give up on you now.

Giggling, he moved closer to Charlie's face, kissing her gently. The taste of their tears mingled with the taste of the wine she had been drinking. After a few seconds, the driver pulled her face away slightly, his nose brushing her skin.

— Mi cielo. Mi paz. Mi luz — he murmured, pecking her lightly between the words.

Charlie couldn’t understand what his words meant, but hearing them in his delicious accent were enough to make her melt in his arms and kiss him even harder. As she felt Fernando's hands sliding down her back towards her ass, something inside her started to burn, her skin tingling.

She needed more than hugs or kisses.

She needed to fuck him.

Tugging on the front of his shirt, Charlie started to lead him through the corridors of her flat towards her bedroom. They stumbled on the way, unable to keep their hands off each other, divesting each other of their clothes as they walked. It would be almost funny to an outside observer, with arms getting trapped in t-shirts, a lock of Charlie’s hair ending up in Fernando’s mouth in the chaos, the stumbling and grasping and groping at the wall to find the bedroom lightswitch. However, as soon as Charlie felt the edge of her mattress behind her legs, a wave of warmth ran over her skin.

— Mi nena — Fernando purred as he placed her on the bed, his teeth grazing her neck — Te extrañé tanto, mi cielo.

— Fuck, Fer — Charlie grumbled, bringing her hands up to his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his skin.

And then, a loud hiss made Fernando yelp and stand up, looking startled at something above Charlie’s head. Following his gaze, she realized they weren't alone in the room. Standing on Charlie’s pillow with his back arched, fur standing on end, and ears back, was Ron.

— I think someone isn't happy that we interrupted his nap — the driver said to her, with a smile. Then, he stretched out his hand towards the cat — Hello…

However, if he expected the cat to sniff his hand in greeting, he was wrong. Ron gave Fernando a warning growl, even louder than before, before swiping at his hand with his front paw. Charlie pushed Fernando off of her and stood up.

— No, Ron, not like that! — she said, scolding the cat as she picked him up and set him on the floor — Be nice! We’ve already talked about this.

As she watched the orange cat bolt from her bedroom, Charlie ran a hand over her face. She had forgotten about Ron’s tendency to nap on her bed. She was embarrassed, but at the same time, she certainly didn’t blame the cat. He had been snoozing peacefully in the dark before being so rudely interrupted by the presence of a stranger, after all.

— Ron, huh? — she heard from behind her. When she turned around, she found Fernando sitting on the bed, a mischievous smile on his face — I guess I know your cat’s name now. 

— Yeah, that’s Ron — Charlie replied.

— I didn't know you were a Harry Potter fan.

She blinked.

— I’m not… Not really.

The driver raised an eyebrow.

— But Ron is one of the characters, right? With red hair? I remember watching one of the movies with my nieces.

— I think so, but his name isn't Ron after Ron from Harry Potter.

— Where is his name from, then?

— Ron Dennis — she replied.

Fernando’s face fell.

— Are you joking?

— No, he's named after Ron Dennis.

Fernando laughed, incredulous.

— Did you name your cat after the guy who hates me?

— Yeah — Charlie said, closing the bedroom door.

— Charlotte! — the driver exclaimed.

— What? — she replied, with her hand on the doorknob — Are you bothered by my cat’s name?

— Of course, you named him after someone that hates me!

— Why do you think I chose that name?

Fernando blinked, looking shocked.

— Do you hate me? — he asked softly.

Charlie snorted, before stripping off the cotton bralette and shorts she was wearing, along with her panties. Then, placing her hands on her hips, she glared at him.

— Does it seem like I hate you?

Fernando was staring at her, his mouth open for a reply that seemed to get lost on the way to his lips. His pupils dilated as he took in every detail of her body, almost like he was trying to memorize details he’d seen dozens of times, from the fair and soft skin from her belly to the tattoo in her ribs of a V10 engine.

 Charlie walked towards him, stopping in the space between his legs.

— I asked you a question — she said, her voice hard and serious.

— What was it again? — he mumbled, his eyes fixed on her breasts.

Charlie shook her head before touching her fingers to Fernando’s chin, gently tipping his head up to bring his gaze to hers. 

— Does it seem like I hate you?

— No.

— Because I don't — she said softly, her fingers stroking his cheek — On the contrary. I quite like you, Fer.

Leaning on his shoulders, Charlie straddled Fernando's lap, her knees pressed against the mattress. The closeness of his skin to hers made her shiver, a mixture of excitement and anticipation that made something tingle just below her navel.

— Nena — the driver murmured, his hands drifting down to her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

— I like you quite a bit, my dear — Charlie continued, as she felt his beard brush against her skin as he buried his face in her neck — And my cat's name doesn't mean anything anymore.

— Mi cielo — Fernando whispered, before bringing his hands to her cheeks and slowly lying down on the bed. Then he kissed her slowly, his tongue patiently exploring her mouth, as if their week apart had dulled his memory of what she felt like, and he wanted to remember every inch of her again.

Pulling away slightly, Charlie unbuttoned Fernando’s jeans. With a laugh, she pulled them down with his underwear. Fernando smiled as his erection was revealed.

— Do you have a condom, or do I have to go to the car and get one?

She rolled her eyes as she positioned herself on top of him.

— Only if you go downstairs like that.

— Like that?

— Naked — Charlie said, with a smirk — It would be fun to see.

— Do you think your neighbors would appreciate it? — he asked, his fingers pressing into her hips as she brought her hand to his cock and pumped it a few times.

— My neighbors include a gay couple and an elderly widow. The sight of a handsome man like you walking naked down the hall would probably be pretty exciting — she replied, bringing her face closer to his — But, I don't think we need a condom today.

— Don't you want to see me running to the car naked?

— I don't want them to see you naked — Charlie said, towering over him — That's for my eyes only. 

Pulling her hips down onto his, Fernando let out a growl as he penetrated her, while Charlie let out a long sigh, the pleasure coursing through her body like a warm wave. They had already had sex dozens of times, in many places and positions, but the first few seconds always felt like the first time they became intimate on that night in Imola, like settling into a warm bath.

— All good? — he asked through clenched teeth.

— Yeah, my dear. And you?

— Yeah, just — Fernando stopped moving for a moment, seemingly to try and catch his breath — You're going to drive me crazy, nena.

Charlie chuckled.

— We’ll see — she replied, moving her hips slowly, gasping softly as she felt his cock brush against a specific spot inside her.

It didn't take long for them to find a rhythm that they both liked, with Charlie resting one hand just above the tattoo on his abdomen to steady herself. The sound of their bodies colliding mingled with their sighs and moans, as well as her wetness, which was already forming a shiny layer on his cock.

— Fuck — Fernando groaned, his hands making their way up her stomach until he could cup her breasts. The way he was touching her, with his rough fingers massaging her sensitive nipples, made heat course through Charlie's body in ever-increasing waves.

— Yes, Fer, yes — she moaned, tightening her hold on his hip, rubbing her own clit against his pubic bone. Charlie felt as if she were in limbo between agony and ecstasy, her muscles tensing as she chased her release. It was tantalizingly close, but still too far away. 

Suddenly, Fernando decided to take matters into his own hands. He planted his feet on the mattress for maximum leverage, gripped Charlie's waist tightly and began to thrust, angling his hips so Charlie canted forward a bit, giving her more friction where she wanted it. The sudden change in pace had her letting out a loud moan, her nails digging into his arms.

— You're going to come… For me… Mi cielo ? — he asked through gritted teeth, his fingers pressing into her skin harder with each thrust. The driver seemed to be clinging to the little self-control left in his body to get her closer to her orgasm.

— I… Yes, fuck, yes!

— Then… Come — he growled, practically as an order.

And then, Charlie came undone. 

Pressing her knees against his ribs, she felt her body become seized by the tension before relaxing, the pleasure coursing through her like an overwhelming tsunami. Beneath her, Fernando gave a few definitive thrusts, his voice strained as he called Charlie by her full name as he released himself, deliciously hot, inside her. Still shaking, she collapsed on top of him, her eyes half-closed and her heart racing in her chest.

They stayed in that position for what seemed like an eternity. There was no reason to move when she felt complete, with Fernando inside her, hot and pulsing as he gradually softened. There was no reason to move, not when she was enjoying being back where she should have been all along, where she always wanted to be.

— Are you okay, nena ? — Charlie heard Fernando whisper below her. Cocking her head, she found him looking at her with a tired little smile on her face.

— I’m wonderful. And you?

— I'm great, actually.

— Good — she replied softly, smiling.

A few seconds of silence followed, the two gazing at each other as if neither of them knew what to say. For Charlie, there weren’t words that felt adequate enough to describe what she was feeling. That almost unbearable feeling of joy and desire and satisfaction that filled her chest and made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

— I missed you — Fernando whispered, caressing Charlie’s cheek with his fingers.

— I missed you too — she said, smiling. Fernando smiled, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her gently, one hand sliding down her back, resting against the base of her spine in a gesture that felt equally affectionate and protective. It was a simple contact, but it felt so intimate that it made Charlie wish that time would stop, so that they never had to leave.

However, it was not to be.

The sound of Ron meowing and scratching at the bedroom door made her let out a long, frustrated sigh.

— I think someone isn't happy — Fernando muttered.

— He must be hungry — Charlie replied, snuggling his head on the driver's chest, trying to enjoy every last moment she could with him — This is normally when I feed him.

— Do you want to get up?

— No, but I need to get up. If I don’t, he will whine all night.

He placed a kiss on her forehead.

— Stay here, I'll get you something to clean you up — Fernando said, as he put her on the mattress and finally got out of Charlie's body. The empty feeling had her pressing her thighs together, trying to push away the discomfort.

— You can get one of the flannels from the bathroom — she instructed as watched him get out of bed.

— Where is that? — he asked, his eyes scanning the room, doubtlessly searching for his underwear.

— Second door on the left — Charlie replied, stifling a laugh when she realized he had a hand on his own cock — And you don't have to hide your dick here.

Fernando looked over his shoulder at her, a sly smile on his face.

— You're a naughty little thing, you know that? — he said, before taking his hand away and stepping out of the room. As Fernando disappeared into the hallway, Charlie saw Ron slip inside and jump onto the mattress. He sat at the edge of the bed, watching Charlie carefully.

He gave her a meow that sounded like a whine.

— Oh, my love — Charlie murmured, reaching out her hand to scratch his tufted ears. He backed away a little, before leaning his head closer and sniffing her fingers, which probably smelled like a Formula 1 driver to Ron. However, the cat soon relented, pressing his head into her hand — I'm going to feed you, okay? Just wait a little bit.

Fernando returned to the bedroom, already in his underwear and with a damp flannel in his hand. With a small smile, he sat on the edge of the bed, close to her legs. His presence made Ron hiss as the tip of his fluffy tail twitched angrily.

— No, Ron — Charlie scolded him again while scratching under his chin — No fighting with Fernando, he's my friend.

— Friend? — he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, resting a hand on one of her knees.

— Yeah, friend. My friend.

— Just your friend?

— Yes, is there a problem with that?

— No, Charlotte — Fernando replied, gently swiping the damp fabric over her labia — I just wonder if you let all your friends clean your pussy after having sex with you.

— Well, do you let all your friends ride your cock, Fernando? — Charlie asked, mimicking his sarcasm.

He chuckled, pulling his hand away from between her legs.

— Not all of them — the driver said, causing her to raise an eyebrow — Only one, actually. The prettiest one.

— Do I know her? — she asked, sitting up in bed.

— Yes, you see her every day in the mirror — Fernando replied, giving one of those smiles that made Charlie's heart melt — I'll take this to the laundry basket. Do you need anything?

— No, I’m fine. I need to get up and feed Ron.

— Want your clothes?

— I'll get something from the closet — she said, as she got up from the bed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. However, before going to the wardrobe, Charlie felt one of Fernando's hands slide around her waist, stopping her for a few seconds. When she turned her face, she found him staring at her with a goofy smile on his face.

— You're beautiful — he murmured.

— You already said that.

— I don't mind repeating myself.

— And I don’t mind hearing you repeat yourself.

— You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world.

She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before walking to her dresser, grabbing the first clothes she saw. Afterwards, she walked to the kitchen, Ron following after on her heels. She put a scoop of kibble in Ron’s bowl and crouched next to him, encouraging to eat, but watching his owner interact with the interloper seemed to make Ron lose his appetite. After a few minutes, though, he started picking at the food in the wide, flat dish, his head shaking as he crunched.

— Good boy. Now, it’s time to go to bed — she said, after Ron had seemingly eaten his fill. She walked back to the bedroom with Ron following after her again, jumping up to his usual spot next to Charlie’s pillow. However, upon seeing Fernando lying on the bed again, Ron hissed and left the room. "I'll sort this out tomorrow", Charlie thought to herself. Charlie laid down next to Fernando, and he threw his arm around her waist, pulling her body closer to his.

— Good night, nena — Fernando whispered, kissing her neck.

— Good night, Fer.

The sun was shyly peeking through the crack in the curtain when Charlie woke up the next day. Stretching a hand across the sheets, she found it strange that they were cold. As she opened her eyes, trying to clear the remnants of sleep from her vision, she found that she’d woken up alone. She was a little puzzled, but went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. 

The silence inside the apartment was unsettling, especially with the knowledge that she’d fallen asleep in someone’s arms, and that someone was nowhere to be seen. However, as soon as Charlie entered the living room, she felt her heart warm.

Fernando was sitting in an armchair near the sliding door that led to her flat’s balcony. His face was illuminated by the sun’s rays that managed to break through the cloudy Northampton summer sky. His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back, and he seemed to be in his own world. As she got closer, Charlie noticed that Fernando was chewing on something.

The grumbling of an irritable cat made Fernando open his eyes and look down to his feet. Ron hissed at him again, clearly disturbed by Fernando’s presence, but too stubborn to actually move. After years of being the only male in the household, he clearly felt threatened by the arrival of another, especially one who stole his owner’s attention and affection. Fernando just smiled at the ginger-colored instigator. 

— I didn’t think cats liked peaches — he murmured, taking another bite of fruit, the juice running down his chin, some of it getting caught in his beard. He swiped at the edges of his mouth with his fingers as the remnants made them glisten in the sunlight.

Charlie watched without saying anything, and felt something tingling below her navel, and felt her heart racing a little. The shine on his lips reminded her of the times when Fernando had laid her in bed and taken her to her climax with his mouth. The memory of him between her legs, his eyes locked on hers as he pleasured her with his tongue made her melt.

It was then, seeing Fernando looking so comfortable in her flat, remembering their nights together, that made her realize just how much she had missed him.

Charlie had missed their stolen kisses and touches, the words murmured with desire in her ear. She had missed his stubble brushing the inside of her thighs, his tongue and fingers circling her clit, the satisfied sounds he made when he felt her pull at his hair.

Charlie walked quietly toward the balcony door, watching as Fernando took another bite of the peach. Then, as he chewed, he turned his face to her, giving her a small smile.

— Good morning, nena — he murmured, his mouth still full.

Without saying anything, Charlie eased herself into his lap, wrapping one of her arms around the back of his neck. Then she brought the thumb of her free hand to his chin, wiping away the juice and fruit pulp caught in his beard and bringing it to her mouth, savoring the sweet notes of fruit on her tongue.

However, nothing was sweeter than the way Fernando looked at her.

— Good morning — Charlie said, before kissing him slowly and deeply, enjoying the taste of fruit on his lips. It was sensual, almost erotic, and unlike anything she’d ever done. But she felt comfortable like this, like it was just part of their daily routine.

Pulling her face away from his, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck, eyes closed against the sunlight. "This is heaven", Charlie thought, as she felt Fernando caress her arm.

— Have you been up long?

— About 20 minutes, I think. Ron woke me up.

Charlie cocked her head toward Ron.

— He did?

— He climbed on top of me and stared at me for a while. When I tried to pet him, he started grumbling.

She sighed, looking down at the cat. Charlie felt bad for not taking their introduction more slowly, but there was nothing to be done. It wasn’t like she was expecting Fernando to drop by any time soon. 

— Yeah, I don’t think he likes you.

— What a surprise, another Ron that hates me — he muttered.

— Well, unlike the human Ron, this one can be won over.

— How? Do I need to neatly slice up my fruit before eating it in front of him?

— No, we can start with treats. This Ron doesn't care how you eat your peaches.

— The human Ron does.

— Well, that’s just one of his problems — Charlie sneered as she stood up from Fernando’s lap. — You’re familiar with how bribery works, so let’s bribe this cat.

[electricopolis-net]

S03E03 The Blackout

“Bob Sparker?” announced one of the cops through a megaphone. “We’d like you to come with us.”

Bob looked back and forth, holding up his hands nervously. “What’s this all about?” he asked, raising his voice. 

“You’re under arrest,” pronounced the officer, “for organizing without a permit, blocking the flow of traffic, and theft of electricity from the Top Tier Electric Company. This blackout is your fault,” he said. “You must disperse immediately!”

“But Mr. King said he would take care of the permits and all that,” Bob protested. “He said everything would be fine!”  

Jam threw out a hand to stop him from taking a step forward. “Don’t,” he said. “Something’s not right here. They showed up way too quickly for this to be anything but a setup.”

“But…” Bob lowered his hands a bit, visibly agitated. He looked back and forth, from Jam to the cops and then back again–and suddenly he bolted, running across the expanse towards the exit. 

“Don’t move!” shouted another cop, and Bob yelped as a rubber bullet careened off the bricks near his heels. He and Jam scrambled up and over the wrought-iron gate that surrounded the park, then kept running into the streets that made up the Diamond District. 

The storefronts and neon signs were dark, and the only light came from the headlights of the cars parked along the street. The dense crowds that populated the upper level of the town were running from the park, and Bob grabbed Jam’s hand as they disappeared into the crowd and turned a corner into a darkened alleyway.

The two paused there, panting and heaving, as the sirens of the police cars grew louder and then began to fade away. “What gives?” Bob asked helplessly, his hands on his knees as he struggled to calm himself. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Jam panted, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them in his pocket. “I can’t see a thing now that all the lights are out. Why would Mr. King send the cops after you, anyway? He doesn’t need to do that.”

“That’s probably why he called Margie back,” Bob lamented. “He probably didn’t want her getting hurt…”

Jam looked up as the red and blue klaxons of a police car passed by the alleyway. “We gotta keep going,” he said furtively, grabbing Bob’s hand again. “This way.”

The two wended their way through the streets and alleys of the city. The only light came from the headlights of the cars stopped haphazardly in the streets, their doors open, their drivers vacated. Distantly, the two could hear the sound of broken windows and yelling; but here, for some reason, there was an almost eerie emptiness.

“I thought it was a little weird that Mr. King would sign off on something like this,” Jam said, mostly to try to keep his thoughts in order, “but I never thought he would send the cops after you, or stage something like a blackout. Do you think he had it planned the whole time?”

“I don't know,” Bob lamented. He collapsed, sitting on a nearby milk crate and rubbing the bridge of his sizeable nose. “I can't…imagine him like that. He always treated me like family,” he said, almost in tears. “Do you think there's some kind of mistake? Maybe the police…”

“He’s always had them in his pocket,” Jam explained. “Come on, we have to keep going. There's no telling what will happen if they catch us.”

There was a wail of a distant siren, and both men pressed themselves against the shadows of the alleyway. The sound grew closer, and Jam relaxed as he saw that it was an ambulance that passed, and not a cop car.

But after a moment, the ambulance reversed, then stopped. A man hopped out of the back, in a first responder’s uniform.

“Hey,” he said, waving to Bob and Jam. “Psst. This way!”

Bob and Jam looked at each other, frozen. The man looked this way and that, then drew closer into the alleyway. He tilted the helmet up and lifted his phone, the light illuminating a face Bob had seen before.

“Sam!” Bob exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I quit my job down below. I’m a first responder now.” He turned to wave to the driver of the ambulance, and it sped off. He turned back to Bob and Jam. “Listen, you have to get out of here. There are riots breaking out all over the top tier of the city, and the talking heads on the radio are blaming you for them.”

“Blaming me?” Bob echoed. “Why?”

“Top Tier Electric is saying you staged the festival as a way to nuke the town’s power grid after you got suspended,” Sam explained. “But that doesn't make any sense…at least, not to me.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Come on,” he said urgently. “I know a way you can get below.”

Sam Gale led the other two to a set of doors that led downwards, like the doors of a storm cellar. “These are all over the city,” he said. “They lead to the maintenance tunnels. You should be okay down there, at least for now.”

Jam started to descend the stairs, and Bob grabbed the handrail and started to walk behind him. He looked up to see Sam Gale kneeling down on the street above. “You're not coming with us?” Bob asked.

“I can't,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “I still need to do my job up here. But I knew I had to find you. Listen,” he said, leaning in. “I’m not surprised Top Tier is trying to pin this on you. I used to work on the generators myself. Us workers know that there have been some problems for a long time now.”

“Like what?” 

“I don't know for sure. But the folks in the lower tiers have gone without power before,” Sam said. “I think something really wrong is happening. Be careful.”

“Okay. We will.” Bob looked down, then back up at Sam Gale. “Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem.” He grinned. “Stay safe, Bob.”

The two descended into the darkness, with only the lights of their cell phones to guide them down the stairs and ladders that led below. At one point, Bob leaned against the bottom rungs of one of the ladders, panting. “Sorry, I gotta take a break,” he said. “I’m not really used to all this running and climbing.”

“It's fine.” Jam knelt down and pulled out a pocket radio. “I wanted to turn this on and have a listen, anyway. What on earth are they saying about you?”

He turned on the radio. It crackled, then came to life. “...Residents are encouraged to stay in their homes,” said a voice. “The police are currently engaged in suppressing looting in the Pearl District and searching for the fugitive Robert Bianchi, better known by his stage name Bob Sparker.”

Bob looked over, wiping his brow. His white hair clung to his forehead.

“Sparker spearheaded the ill-advised Electric Festival without authorization from Top Tier, according to representatives from the company,” continued the reporter. “The draw in the city’s resources has devastated the town, leading to tonight's blackout. Power is not expected to be restored until at least 72 hours from now…”

“72 hours?” Bob yelped. “That's crazy!”

“That doesn't make any sense,” Jam said, frustrated. “The festival barely got off the ground before it went dark.”

“Nothing about this makes any sense,” Bob groaned. “I think we're gonna have to find Mr. King to get an explanation.” He lifted his head, listening. “Hey…do you hear that? That rumbling sound, like an earthquake?”

Jam tilted his head. There was a distant groaning, followed by a faint shaking sensation. “I don't think it's an earthquake,” he said. “It keeps happening–I noticed it earlier too. It sounds too regular. It almost sounds like…a train?”

The rumbling grew louder and less distant as they kept descending. They walked through tunnels for what felt like hours, each twist and turn drawing them closer to the source of the sound. The tunnels were dark and damp, and Jam complained about it more than once–but mostly just to hear himself talk. Bob was unusually, uncharacteristically, silent.

Finally, they rounded a corner and, through a door, reached an odd area with a long, flat concrete platform next to a length of track. “Hey, there's a light here,” Jam remarked, indicating a flickering bulb above him. “Why's that?”

“No idea.” Bob leaned over, peering down the track, shining his cell phone’s flashlight beam as far as it would go. “What is this place? It reminds me of a bus station.”

“A train station,” Jam corrected. “I’ve heard of these. I didn't think there were any in Electricopolis, though. I thought they were only used a long time ago, in some other places, far away.”

“This whole thing feels like a ghost story,” Bob remarked. “Hey, there’s that sound again…”

This time, the rumbling grew louder and louder. Two dots of light appeared at the end of the darkness, then grew larger as they drew near. Bob leaned over, and Jam yanked him back as a subway train pulled in and slowly came to a halt. After a moment, its doors slid open.

The two glanced at each other. Wordlessly, they stepped on board.

[revserrayyu]

2.1 Penacony thoughts [part4]

**BOSS FIGHT SPOILERS** Going to be rambling about the battle itself and the two cut-scenes that follow right after, but not quite the whole story’s ending yet. That will be the next post. If by any chance you haven’t beaten the boss yet and are still gazing upon this post then I urge you to come back later because I would never wanna ruin the experience for you.

I’m glad Himeko questioned the number of murders because I also sat there for a good minute wondering who the third death might’ve been, only to realize how stupid I was upon clicking forward to hear Aventurine’s response.

I still wish his hat & glasses were part of his usual attire. I’m glad he pulls the hat out of nowhere whenever he launches his follow up attack, but the glasses would’ve been real snazzy if he permanently wore them. It was nice seeing us wield the lance instead of the bat for once too.

So, the fight itself.. was a bit irritating, mostly due to the gambling. I believe I tried a total of four times until I beat him. The first three attempts I simply switched around different team members, using those who could easily score big against his dice and win those gambles. His first phase went fine no matter which team setup I had. It was that second phase that kept knocking me out, mainly because my healer and support units could never manage to roll higher or on par with Aventurine’s number seeing how they could only attack a single target at a time. It also didn’t help that I had no ice or physical characters properly leveled up to assist Serval in weakness breaking.. until I remembered destruction Trailblazer existed. So, after struggling with different teams for a good hour, I decided to do some relic farming (which basically resulted in me taking the first gold pieces I could get) while also getting materials to level up traces and a random light cone because I have literally not switched back to this path since we first acquired the flaming lance. Half hour later and my destruction Trailblazer was ready to come out of retirement with a hasty, last minute build.

Of course the stats are not the greatest thing in the world (all relics, traces and lc not even maxed out) and I wasn’t confident that I would do any better than my previous attempts against Aventurine, where the lowest I managed to bring him down to in his second phase was about 60% before biting the dust. After activating a pair of consumables and fighting through the first phase as usual, I would like to think everything was going rather smoothly with how well I was keeping everyone alive at least.

The team wide gambles during the second phase went as well as I imagined; Serval and Stelle would manage to score high with their AoE while Huohuo and Bronya would typically suffer and take a hit. They might’ve tied once or twice but the odds were certainly not in my favor whenever those two would roll the dice. By some strange stroke of luck though, I finally managed to beat the fancy gambler! Thank god too because if this team failed, I would’ve been all out of ideas.

The following cutscene is good and I wish I had taken more screenshots but I was caught up in enjoying it. Aventurine’s really out here acting like a Meowth using Pay Day twenty times in a row.

I do feel bad for Acheron, walking a path she doesn’t even want to tread on and endlessly looking for someone. Haven’t a clue on who she might’ve been talking to though.

Himeko and Welt protecting the kids like the good parents they are! We’re certainly going to have some crazy stories for Dan Heng once we return to the Express. Dude is probably just chilling in the archives, maybe having some snacks with Pom-Pom while we’re over here fighting for our lives.

Another moment where I was so invested in watching Acheron that the idea of screenshots left my mind completely, but ohhh boy, the extent of her power is grand indeed. It’s a bit similar to what was shown in her character trailer but seeing her ultimate like this in game is truly an experience.

Big fan of the brief moment where she’s shown to sheath her sword again..

..and the way it goes from the monochrome world to reality and it starts raining hard is so very nice. Can’t help but think back to what Aventurine’s sister said about rain though at this time.

Finally getting that confirmation of her path even though it was no secret to us.

I really hope so because the longer we linger here the more worried for Aventurine I become.

This gives me little hope that Robin might be alive? If whomever is behind this just wanted to cover up the truth about Penacony and its recent happenings, then simply taking away their ability to speak should be effective enough. Death seems a bit too extreme but perhaps that was merely an accident. Or at least I hope so. I want her alive if you couldn’t tell.

So Aventurine had this all planned out? Putting himself and Acheron on opposing sides so she would have to draw her blade against him, all to nullify that strange Harmony magic that Sunday placed upon him? This man is out here playing 3d chess.

And like a fool I feel for his bluff about wanting to make our stellaron explode. But if his stone is broken, does that mean he never planned to make it out of this fight alive in the first place? I know his future was grim due to the conditions Sunday placed upon him, regardless if Aventurine managed to solve Robin’s case or not, but I still don’t like the sound of this!

Yes, please, wake up pretty boy. In reality and alive, preferably. Also, I wonder how much longer we’ll need to wait until we can finally get an explanation behind the red text. I have my guesses, but wish to know for sure.

Both of them asking and giving such real answers.. ahh. Life and death truly are such frightening things.

I would like to know the meaning behind your words, ma’am. Why must you do this? Are you even aware of it? What if I uno reverse card you and give you anxiety instead huh??

I’m thankful Acheron reminded him of Ratio’s parting gift and that Aventurine still held onto it even now, but with how this whole scene ends.. I can’t be certain if our gambler decided to use it or not.

Oooohhh my heart.. here comes the pain.

I’m sorry sir, but you can’t just give us these real handsome and gentle smiles and seemingly disappear into a void afterwards?? I don’t wanna accept this!

AVENTURINE!! You better be walking your pretty boy butt back into reality somehow, I swear! If you’re still choosing to end yourself despite Acheron’s words and Ratio’s help I will SOB!

I seriously do not like the sound of this.. I know Aventurine hasn’t had the best kind of life by any means, but as poetic as this all sounds, I want the dice to keep rolling!

No doubt Aventurine assumed that he would be cut off from obtaining outside help at some point during this scheme, so leaving behind pieces of his stone to convey a message about whether or not his companions can proceed was clever.. but still upsets me because I really don’t wanna accept a “death” from him. I wonder how Topaz truly feels about this, like is it fine because his actions were towards the mission or is there any genuine concern? I know their phone call back during Belobog was a bit rough between them but at least Topaz spoke relatively highly of him when we saw her in the reality hotel.

So this is the achievement I read about last time with its connection to the “Sibyl, What Do You Want?” achievement.. and after witnessing everything that happened, it hurts even more.

Aaahh, my poor man. He deserved better and I truly hope he can return. This upsets me more than Firefly’s “death.” And speaking of which.. I got the whole ending to chat about next hm?

(originally written on 3/29)

[anti-dazai-blog]

Hi, recently discovered your blog, love it <3

I started reading the manga around the Kamui Reveal, and back then already worried about the entire arc. Personally, the Dazai-vs-Fyodor-Setup felt undirected and predictable (back then and yet again at its end).

To me, it’s been already pointed out how Asagiri might have a hard time deleting the original cast from the story, which I don’t fault him for. (He likes creating and writing characters and you can tell, I actually love it.) My problem would just be that he needs to change stakes to the plot, it’s getting in the way of immersive storytelling (because he seldomly pulls through with the stakes long-term regarding the original character cast.)

You can actually write a story with good stakes that are consequential to actions without killing characters off; if you do it well, not having death threats hanging over every characters heads won’t take away from the story. (However, with a setting and worldbuilding like bsd it’s a little unrealistic to not have death as side effect/consequence or characters die.)

Back to the arc that’s been going on for years, it feels weird (unplanned), because that’s opposite to how the previous arcs (and especially the light novels) felt and it’s one of the longest arcs; I would have assumed Asagiri had something in mind for a proper (plot)conclusion (it’s a personal opinion that this arc is not properly concluded (currently)).

When we had chuuya drowns and dazai gets shot scenes, I wasn’t for one second thinking they actually died, I was thinking, how is Asagiri gonna write himself out of these scenes (because to me it felt like he didn’t have a solution, reviving the characters, prior to their death scenes), which is a pretty non immersive experience as a reader.

And it’s really weird to me, because I can’t think of a good reason of how all this happened.

Asagiri is not a bad writer, that’s established and the (i think) last „side“ project Stormbringer was exceptional (personal opinion (and I was still baffled(slight negative connotation) at Verlaine being kept alive (who knows wether he will play a role in the future)), it’s really weird thinking about Stormbringer and this arc being written out at a similar time. (I personally have a theory as to why the light novels are so good: He likes writing snd creating characters, but having them interact in this huge cast and series is understandably difficult, whereas the light novels can be seen as a backstory/part of a character, something he is incredibly good at constructing.(He also doesn’t really struggle killing off people here, because the consequences don’t affect the main story.))

He doesn’t „pander“ to people either I think, or at least it wouldn’t make sense. Bsd might possibly have attracted a shounen audience, but it got popular because of seinen themes and characters (which affects the plot) in the first place, so changing things towards to a shounen lane would be dumb, and also not something like Asagiri would do.

I’ve also skimmed across my rant here and I sound like I hate the arc or his writing, but I actually don’t haha, I actually liked a lot of this arc, themes and characters and still have faith in him as an author and this series, it’s just these particular things that kinda hugely scratch my opinion on this arc and how what’s currently happening feels like a non-answer to everything that came before it.

I’m interested in hearing your opinion on this, if you want to take the time for this huge complaint rant (I’m not mad if you don’t haha), in which ways you agree/disagree/could possibly educate me further.

You blog overall is really cool, love your analyses; lots of love <33

Thank you for the ask, I’m so glad you’re enjoying this blog!!!

You’ve summed up the current arc’s issues perfectly— it seems to be out of place when compared to everything else Asagiri wrote in both the previous arcs and the light novels. It came across as aimless— as if Asagiri himself wasn’t sure where he was going with it and was as taking it chapter by chapter.

That being said, I do believe that it might just be a matter of personal taste—maybe Asagiri’s tastes in storytelling has changed over the years, and the current arc is the type of stuff he’d be more interested to write about going forward. I’d be a bit disappointed if that’s the case (and as far as I could tell, I won’t be the only one), but he might form a new fanbase that this current type of story is more catered to.

Either way, I still have hope that future bsd arcs might revert back to how bsd used to be four years ago.

[thedahliafiles]

alright alright last one, [ARM] with Guy and Honey :]]]]]]

[ ARM ]:          after holding their hand, the sender releases the receiver, but slowly glides their hand up the full length of their arm, lingering on the upper arm, then the shoulder, then resting their touch against the side of their neck.

(A/N: Thank you darling, for being my first requester for these silly little games. It really means a lot to me :) ) cw: [headcanon pets: cat named Pepperoni/Peps] [Guy implied to have shoulder length-hair] [Honey implied to be shorter than Guy] [headcanon character: coworker named Krow] [implied that Honey is working through emotional trauma]

Honey knew they could be a bit intense. Between them and their boyfriend, they knew that Guy was the more affectionate of the two. More open, more unabashed. It’s not that Honey didn’t love him as much as they loved him, just that they struggled letting anyone past the walls they’d spent so long building. It was a work in progress, they were a work in progress. They were so thankful Guy didn’t mind that, so long as they kept making progress. They tried to be more open with telling him what was on their mind, even if they tended to cringe when they admitted anything remotely affectionate. When the line between still friends and something more became a little too clear and the side they stood on had switched. They were trying though, because Guy deserved that. 

Tonight, they were trying a little bit more openly.

Guy had been working back to back double shifts and Honey could see it wearing on him as much as their over-energized boyfriend said to the contrary. Honey also knew that the pizza smell jokes were starting to wear his patience thin, but he still relented and showered after already being on his feet for hours. Tonight, that would change, as Honey had his favorite dinner prepared, and candles around the apartment lit. The scent of cookies could be smelled from the living room where they were baking in the oven. And the second they got the ping that he was on his way home, they’d be drawing a hot bath for Guy to relax in, with one of those fancy bath bombs he liked so much. His noise canceling headphones were charged if he wanted them, his switch was waiting on the loading screen of Mario Party, and the volume was low. Now all Honey had to do was wait for their loving boyfriend to get home.

-- “Honey, I’m home.” Guy called from the door. Honey hated how tired it sounded these past few weeks, like even speaking in his usual sing-song manner was too much expensive for the amount of energy he had left at his disposal.

Honey came out from the bathroom and smiled, “Hey babe, how was your shift?”

Guy shrugged and unlaced his shoes, setting them in the cubby by the door and dropping his backpack on top of it, “Nothin’ special, Rosa says hi, and Krow wants you to know he’s coming over next week to babysit Peps.” He stood up and kissed their cheek softly.

“I know, I know, I smell awful, I’ll go shower and get started on dinner--”

“Hey, stop, stop for a moment. First of all, it doesn’t bother me. Second of all, dinner is already on the warming shelf. C’mere, I have a surprise.” Honey grabbed his hand, thumb brushing the edge of his leather bracelet as they dragged him over to the master bath, showing him the setup.

Guy took in the bathroom, the first time he really stopped to take in his surroundings since he left for work that morning. Work had been hell from the moment he stepped through the doors of the shop, all the way to hitting autopilot on his way back home, the drive feeling like an hour long despite the short distance from their apartment to the pizza shop.

The lights were dimmed, candles providing more warm light in the quiet corners of the bathroom. There was music coming from his cozy playlist, the speaker propped up on the sink counter. There was still steam fogging up the mirrors.

“Honey, I..” He was speechless.

They dropped his hand, smiling up at him as they moved in front of him, their hand never leaving quite entirely though. Guy felt as their cold hands moved up the length of his arm, tracing his shoulder for a moment before resting and staying pressed to his neck.

“Let me take care of you tonight. Pepperoni and I got this.” Honey let a warm grin form before leaning up on their toes to press a kiss to the tip of his nose before brushing his hair behind his ear.

“Get in the bath, I’ll bring you some food.”

“Thank you, Honey.”

“I love you.”

[ashitakaxsan]

Utterly futile the thoughts, hopes for a romance Anya x Damian (Spy x Family)

Warnings:

a)It contains many Spoilers.

b) Never trust fully the Wiki articles about this or any fandom. Understanding the incidents, events, and motives behind any action requires seeing, and reading the series. Why? See below.

The fandom of Spy x Family is buzzing with excitement over the possibility of an Anya x Damian romance. I used to believe about a romance. It’s easy to see why: Two young kids from opposite worlds, with the weight of their families and expectations pressing down on them, working to navigate the uneasy waters of Eden College.

Is the whole setup for a classic romance realistic? Is it something Anya should even want?

How could've the WISE director assumed it so easy that any kid could become a buddy of this boy?

Damian Desmond: Arrogance Born of Privilege

From the moment Damian Desmond stepped into Eden College, he clearly feels like the center of the universe and demands the people be his humble acolytes. His father’s shadow looms large, shaping his every interaction and decision. Damian’s arrogance is not just a personal trait—it’s a survival mechanism in a world where his family’s name is everything.

Chapter 8:

His constant dismissal and disdain for many of his peers, especially Anya, highlight a deep-seated sense of superiority that stems from his upbringing. And he can

Anya is established as a weird contrast,the child of "commoners" in a big lake full of children of wealthy and prestigious .: Officially her father is a "psychiatrist at Berlint Hospital", and her mother a clerk at Berlint City Hall. She has to keep secret the true professions of both her father "Loid", aka secret agent of WISE Twilight, and of her surrogate mother Yor, aka "Thorn Princess", the best professional assassin in the whole of Ostania, employed by the Secret organization "Garden".

Spoilers follow. A need to understand how badly all started between them, on the orientation day at Eden College.

"What do your parents do? Depending on how important they are, I could let you be my friend." "Papa is a mind doctor".

"Hmpf, that's not special. I bet you're poor too."

And the situation kept going bad: Anya despite smiling around-confirmed she's higher than petty mentality- got her the intense anger of Damian and the high appreciation by Becky Blackblell. 'You're more mature than I thought. I see you in a new light".

Insult upon insult by him made her punch him. She could get expelled, but Housemaster Henderson loosened the demerit bending it to a Tonitrus. Her first ever.

Her eventual attempts to tear-filled apology to him have failed(:

Anya's attempts to befriend him, as usual, derive from the desire to boost her father’s mission, feels like a Sisyphean task *1—one she’s dutifully shouldered despite Damian’s either silent or obvious contempt.

"Shut up and give me the paper".

See below the Sisyphean task.

Chapter 37 of how he shuns the other kids, classmates

Rain of Tonitrus: A Case of Urgent Help, and Selfishness

Below Chapter 61: Her kind move of lending her handkerchief to Damian, saving him from a Tonitrus to ensure Plan B. But she didn't have a reserve, thus resulting in her second Tonitrus. Talk about self-sacrifice for a mission with a high priority: Saving the fragile peace between the West and the East. Watch how confident she is, having assumed she can make it nice and clean.

She saved him from a Tonitrus, by taking one she didn't deserve. Read him well, without the stupid notions "he has a crush on her"," he's a tsundere" etc. As we see his intense anger on Anya: What's not apparent isn't her move, but the selfish boy's discrimination about where he'll find a hand of help. His squinting, angry glare is one of his traits. "I can't tell you how it sickens me to be indebted to the likes of you", he says to her.

Anya’s everyday struggle to connect with Damian is both painful and telling. For her, working to win his friendship isn’t only about achieving her father’s goals—it’s about navigating the complex social hierarchies of a world so different from the one she had known. But let’s face it: Damian isn’t just a “tsundere” waiting to be melted by Anya’s kindness. His disdain is real, and it’s rooted in his belief that being a Desmond is an inherent privilege that sets him above others. Is it really fair to expect 5-year-old Anya to unlock the closed, stone-cold heart of an utterly Arrogant, Belligerent kid?

The Hijacked Buses Arc

I disagree with fans who call her "not smart". Due to the rough treatment, at the hands of the mysterious organization, she grew a resentment on studying. In a way that is yet to be revealed, these scientists could never even anticipate her actions, she made an effective plan and escaped from their facilities. It's an indication of her possessing a decent level of street smarts.

Even a great gift, such as mind reading, demands a degree of sharpness. The moment she read Vadim's mind about his decision to bomb the school bus when the SSS Commandos would storm it, she knew she had to buy time to save her classmates, and the commandos as well. Surprisingly ,against all odds, she managed to persuade the leader of the Red Circus to abandon their agenda and surrender to the authorities.

Thanks to her quick, profound thinking, everyone emerged from the crisis unscathed. So it seemed everything would come for her: Combined with his debt to her, her handkerchief, and the crisis solution: having achieved friendship(on good, solid foundations) with Damian and his trusted acolytes, Euen and Emil. So saving the peace.

But sadly, the good momentum lasted only a short time.

In chapter 88 "Elite Tea Cakes" observe him. He's about to puk because of a warm touch of hers.

Once he gave her the Elit Tea Cakes he reverted to his known selfishness, carnivorous mode.

The DEE trio quickly reverted to their usual arrogance, hostility, and insults, branding Anya as "stupid," a "poor kid who can’t find enough food to eat."3*

Below is Chapter 92: His open joy about her upcoming disastrous exam results:

BelowChapter 95:Where he viciously rejects her invitation to dance along , at the School's Gala:

Chapter 96.5Just study how much she's appalled by their cruel insults:

Below as translated: How cruel of Damian(:

Poor Anya, probably she was about to yell at them: "I saved your lives, during the Hijacked Buses Crisis, and now you trash call me?!"

In such moments is exposed just how deep Damian’s prejudices run. Unmovable.

"But why the Hijacked Buses Arc potentially could've helped out Anya's efforts?", you would ask me to know. Because they were in the grasp of the Red Circus. Their menacing guns reminded them that wealth, high social position, and prestige of families made them desirable assets for these gunmen. Being as much humble, without bragging, in this dire time was the one that could save them from any harm. And she put her quick, profound mentality to save them, without a scratch. Namely as the ancient narration of Damocles's Sword *2:

Below: The harsh reminder of the narration(Spy x Family chapter 72)

The Potential for Anya’s Freedom

What if the key to her freedom isn’t winning Damian’s favor, but uncovering the sinister plans of his father, Donovan Desmond?

Yes, in an unexpected twist that would be far more satisfying than a forced friendship, finding the crucial documents to decipher Donovan’s schemes would free her. She wouldn't be burdened anymore to navigate Damian’s disdainful world. Thus focused on her true mission: Protecting her family and maintaining the fragile peace between the East and West.

If I could say something to Damian, it would be this:

"If you think she’s stupid, just how would you have effectively talked to the leader of the Red Circus, Billy Squire, and solved the crisis?"

Anya’s actions during the hostage situation prove she has strength and wisdom far beyond what the trio DEE(an acronym for Damian, Emil, Euen) gives her credit for. Their inability to see that only underscores how blinded they are by their own privilege and arrogance.

The Self-deception of People Hyped for the Romance:

By the way, they claim:

a)"Damian is capable of self-sacrifice to the detriment of his interests. A rare exception is when he protects Anya from a ball in a dodgeball game, willingly getting himself eliminated. Though it did not help their class win the game, Anya recognized Damian's good nature". And b)"He showed bravery and selflessness when he tried to save Anya, demanding that the terrorists hang a bomb on him instead of her".

However, a cold examination of his so-called selflessness reveals something ugly:

a)In chapter 15, during the dodgeball his insights are quite clear:

" I don't have time to waste on shrimps like her. I got to get MVP in this game so I can score a star. I need to become an Imperial Scholar like my brother did. Otherwise, Dad won't pay any mind to me at all". That's the explanation of why he took the hit. The ambition to make it, on the other hand, if Anya would fail he could assert control over her or even seek validation from his peers and his father. By "saving" her in a public setting, Damian subtly reasserts his dominance over her—positioning himself as the protector and keeping Anya in a role where she is indebted to him. It’s not about kindness but about reinforcing a power dynamic.

Anya at this moment is tired, and disappointed about her failure to give a strong hit. So she needed a compassionate gesture, such how Becky came to give her. If say, he's supposedly kind why in the world does he angrily shout to her, in his carnivorous mode: "What the heck sort of crap throw was that? I sacrificed myself for nothing!" "You really are mean": Anya.

What is weird is how Becky has never questioned Anya, on why she persists in cozying to Damian despite all his constant insults.

b)"Another rare moment was in their classroom when a girl from their class was spreading a rude rumor about how Anya got her first Stella Star, Damian stood up for her, recognizing Anya's merit". Wrong. All he stood up for was the high status of the school he and his brother attend to.

c))"He showed bravery and selflessness when he tried to save Anya, demanding that the terrorists hang a bomb on him instead of her".Wrong again. His true, ulterior motives are his envy of her public stance, and living up to his family’s expectations. In his point, he was scared, So he asked for the bomb for the sake of saving face, "he's never intimidated by anyone-including a Red Circus extremist".

Conclusion: A Romance That Wasn’t Meant to Be?

As fans continue to root for an Anya x Damian romance, it’s important to consider the deeper implications of such a relationship. Damian’s arrogance, born from his father’s influence, makes him an awful match for Anya. Certainly rather than striving for his friendship, Anya’s true path lies in uncovering the documented dark secrets of the Desmond family—a tedious task with far-reaching consequences for both her family and the world.

Do you really think there's hope for Anya and Damian, or is their relationship doomed to remain adversarial? And what does Donovan’s philosophy say about the future of Ostania—and the potential for love and peace in this fractured world? Let’s discuss this in the comments!

*1: In Greek mythology, the story of Sisyphus is a well-known tale of eternal struggle. Sisyphus was condemned, for his crimes, by the gods to roll a boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down each time he neared the summit. This endless cycle of futile effort has since given rise to the term “Sisyphean task,” Namely any pointless, fruitless, and unrewarding task that must be repeated repeatedly; an endless task. 

*2 The Tale of the Sword of Damocles. A harrowing reminder of the dangers of power and imminent destruction. Damocles’ sword refers to the Greek legend about King Dionysius I of Syracuse and his courtier, Damocles, a person we would refer to today as a brown-noser.

The King had grown weary of Damocles’ constant flattery. When Damocles referred to the king as “the happiest of men” Dionysius decided to teach him a lesson. He invited him to a banquet and ordered him to sit in the same place for the event. Over the chair was hung a sword held by a single hair. In this way, the king demonstrated to him just how precarious the position of a king, who, although he had access to many luxuries and pleasant distractions, always lived under the shadow of a horrid death. 4,5