They.

Ghost x f!reader

Cw: rough sex, dom!simon, sub!f!reader, creampie, dirty talk, not proofread.

“Simon!” You scream as he ruts into you from behind. You two have been at it for quite some time now, and it didn’t look like he was stopping anytime soon.

“Come on, love.” He says in that gruff voice of his. He thrusts into you again, harshly this time. “I wanna hear you scream my name louder.”

Simon wraps both of his big arms around your waist and pulls you up in one swift motion. You moan even louder than before, the new angle allowing him to go deeper.

He can feel you clenching around him and he knows you’re so close by the way your hands are grabbing at his arms.

Simon hugs you close to his chest, not slowing his rough pace one bit as he lets one of his hands roam down to your clit, rubbing it intensely.

“Look at you, taking me so well. It’s like this…beautiful cunt was made for me.”

He’s rendered you speechless at this point. Only thing coming from your lips are moans and whimpers.

“You like being fucked dumb by my cock, babe?” He groans into your ear. Grabbing your jaw to force you to look at him.

“That was a question.” Simon says, awaiting your answer. “Yes! Fuck- fuck! You’re so good!” He lets go of your jaw and your head drops down as he does so. “Yeah? I feel good inside you?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yes…yes- so good!” You can barely manage words out with how intense everything feels.

“Please!” You mewl out. “Please let me…i need “ You’re so fucking close and your mind feels fuzzy. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.” He sounds so condescending, almost like he’s mocking you.

“Need to cum- please let me cum. I can’t take it!” You’re screaming out and he just admires how he can turn you into this wet mess of moans.

Simon rubs your clit even harder, fucking up into you with his fat cock. “Cum for me, love. I wanna feel you squeezing my cock.”

You finally let go and it feels so good. Your head falls back on his shoulder as your cunt squeezes down on him.

“That’s it, baby. So fucking good.” Simon groans. You feel his dick twitching inside you and his thrusts start to get sloppier. “Where do you- fuck! want it?”

“Inside! Please cum inside me, si! I wanna feel your cum dripping out of me.” You moan out in pleasure. He continues his brutal pace, your words pushing him over the edge.

“Fuck, love!” Simon continues fucking into you, your cunt milking him for all he’s got.

He thrusts into you one…

Two…

Three more times before he stops his movements completely. Still buried deep inside you. The room goes quiet, the only sound being the heavy breaths coming from both of you.

“Oh, god.” You breathe out. Your body already feeling tired.

“No god; just Simon.” He whispers into your ear.

He lays you down on the bed gently, contrary to how he was treating you a few moments ago, and falls down next you.

“That was…wow.” You’re still breathless. He pulls you close to him and kisses the top of your head.

“Again?” Simon asks, looking down at you.

“Again.” You smile as you look up and kiss him. He moves you so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. Kissing you passionately as he slides into you once more.

Mommy?

Single dad!Carmen x reader

Carmen's daughter likes you and doesn't know the meaning of the word 'no'.

~~☆☆☆~~

You stepped into the sandwich place, your laptop bag slung around your shoulder as something collided with your leg and clinging to it.

"Oh shit, sorry I- she slipped away from me." A man apologises for the little child around your leg, lowering himself to her level and tiredly begging her to let you go.

You took a better look at the toddler at your side. She had the man's curly hair and wore a fluffy teddybear onesie.

The man in front of you was tired. No question about it and his attire told you he worked here.

"Hey, you know what?" His focus moves from the child up to you. "How about I watch her for a bit? I'm planning on getting some work done here anyways and I'll probably be around when your shift ends." You shrugged at your own suggestion, placing a hand on the child's curls making her giggle at you.

"I uh- my shift ends a couple hours after we close." He wasn't declining your offer, he just didn't want you to waste your whole day here. He had gotten up again by now to talk to you at eye level. "I'm Carmen." He extends a hand to you to shake. "I own this place. And this here's Alex," he motions at the babbling todddler who was now casually hanging from your hand. "She's my kid. Daycare wouldn't take her cus she sneezed one too many times on drop off this morning." A tired hand runs over his face as he recalls why she's here.

"Hey, I'll watch her for you. Just come say hi a couple of times and we'll be good." You shoo'd him off and he went back to the kitchen. But not before making sure he got your food order and saying goodbye to his daughter.

Over the course of the day he swung by your table to watch you type away on your laptop while Alex was no doubt ruining your highlighters and scribbling on the back of your notepad. During food breaks she was in your lap and you'd watch some kids videos on Youtube with the sound low enough to not bother anyone.

Little Alex had been an absolute sweetheart the whole time, clinging to you and showing off her artworks that had rendered your notepad entirely useless.

Around dinnertime Carmen had come back again, insisting he'd be fine watching her himself now, but you assured him you were good and didn't mind staying the few extra hours. He accepted reluctantly and rought you two dinner on the house, dessert included.

When the placed closed down and Carmen was finished cleaning everything he came by one last time, to pick up his daughter and thank you again for watching her. You exchanged phone numbers in case he ever needed a babysitter.

Leaving was a lot more difficult than you had thought. Alex threw the biggest fit the second you turned to the door, running up to you and clamping herself around your leg, sniffling No's leaving her lips as she sat down on your foot with her arms around your calf. Tears staining your jeans.

Carmen stood there, a hand on his hip, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply. "Come on, teddybear. She's tired too, we're all going to our homes and sleep, okay?" He tried bribing, any and all promises he could think of, even physically prying her off your leg resulted in the biggest drama he had ever seen her make.

You felt bad for Carmen. The permanent bags under his gorgeous blue eyes and the mess of curls you wanted to run you-- "what if I tag along and put her in bed?" The suggestion seemingly came out of nowhere amd it took Carmen a moment to register your words.

His place was an even bigger mess than he was and he'd be ashamed if she saw Alex's living situation. But then again, he was a single dad with an extremely demanding job, so the mess did explain itself that way..

"Yeah, okay." A simple, soft answer that had Alex screech with joy.

The three of you made your way over to his car. Since Alex wouldn't let go of you, you carried her while Carmen carried your bag for you as well as his own.

His place wasn't big. But it was big enough for him and Alex. On your way through the livingroom you had to watch your step and not trip over the large amount of toys on the floor. The coffeetable held day old mugs and coffee circles permanently staining the wood. The dinnertable was covered in paperwork but the kitchen looked decent enough, besides the dishes in the sink.

Carmen could feel you judging him, trying to speed up the whole going to bed ritual Alex had so you could stop being grossed out by the mess.

After watching Carmen struggle with the currently very difficult child you stepped in and offered assistence.

Carmen stepped aside and mimiced his steps but in your own way. Suddenly she was the sweetest child ever and did everything you told her to.

"Are you serious? Now you can listen?" The soft complaint didn't go unnoticed and made you giggle as you tucked her in and wished her sweet dreams. Besides you Carmen leaned over to give her kisses and said goodnight as well.

"Why does she listen so well to you?" The question wasn't meant in a bad way, even though it sounded like jealousy. "Guess she just wants a mom." You answered from across the kitchen island. Carmen insisted you stayed for a drink and talk about your day with her. "Neither you or her ever uttered anything mom-related so I guessed it's just you two." You sounded like a prying therapist right now, but you meant it in a kind way.

Clearly both of you sucked when it came to words.

"Her mom was a drunken mistake." He downs half of his drink and decided right there he was gonna talk about it. If you deleted his number and walked out afterwards, so be it.

"I didn't even know she had a kid until kne day she stopped by the restaurant. I barely recognised her but she still made a whole scene about some mistake, dropped the carrier with a crying baby at my feet and shoved a stack of paperwork in my hands." He downed the other half of his drink, not liking how recalling those memories felt. "I barely knew her, only saw her twice before moving back here from New York and found me all the way here to drop the baby and all her papers stating I was the one responsible for her on me and leave after screaming at me amd blaming me for leaving."

Carmen's story shocked you. You sat in silence after he finished, not sure how to respond to such a confession, so you offered your help once more.

After a while babysitting Alex at work and tucking her into bed turned into babysitting, tucking her into bed and moving into the next one together with Carmen. His early shifts really messed up Alex's sleep scedule so he suggested you staying the night and working from his apartment and do Alex's morning routine at a more acceptable hour than 6am, when he's kiss you goodmorning, wish you some good few more hours of sleep and went off to work.

Carmen was enjoying your time together so much, and Alex was almost permanently attached to you when you were around so his only thought was how he was going to ask you to move in with him. You already had a spare key so giving you one of those in a fancy little box wouldn't work.

Eventually he thoight of an idea that just had to work.

He wrote a note from Alex's point of view, rolled it up and tied a little bow around it and handed it to his daughter. "Can you go give this to her, please? It's a gift."

Alex immediately ran over to you, waving the paper roll at you and smacking it against your leg. She mumbled a quick "foyou" before waving it up at you again.

You accepted the gift with a grand display of thanks, with kisses and a hug, a whole scene amd read the note in silence. You recognised Carmen's handwriting immediately and smiled your way throigh the creatively written sentences.

"So, you want me to be mommy, huh?" You asked Alex, but not without moving your stare up to meet Carmen's, who looked away quickly to hide his blush.

A string of Yes and Please and happy giggles were all the convincing you needed before agreeing to move into Carmen's apartment officially.

lovesick

» red string of fate au. fate has its way of making people wait, you’re looking at someone else while they can’t seem to see anyone but you «

(al haitham x reader, kaeya x reader (separate)

» al haitham

He doesn’t understand why you do this to yourself, why you pine after someone who has no care for your intentions or interest towards you.

He finds himself entering the tavern late at night and immediately spots you sitting right next to a tired looking Cyno.

He can hear you mumbling about something but it’s muffled as you have your head in your arms as you lean over the table.

“How long have they been like this?” Al Haitham asks, he can’t even find it in him to be annoyed. The sight of you doing this to yourself pains him and he hates to admit it.

“Thirty minutes.” Cyno closes his pocket watch and sighs, his hand moving to brush hair from your face.

“I just wanted to see him,” you murmur into your arm, feeling your eyes burn again.

“Y/n, let's go, it's late.” Al Haitham kneels down a bit and your head shoots up, your eyes droopy as you look up at the grumpy man who always seems annoyed with you.

“Did I wake you up again? You’re always dealing with me, you don’t have to.” You feel your eyes burn. Even in your state you can tell how sleepy Al Haithum looked.

“Stop your nonsense, let’s get you home.” He brushes off your comment, reaching for your arm.

Cyno stands, holding your other arm and propping you up until you stand, wobbly on your feet.

“I got y/n from here.” Al haitham speaks up, effortlessly shifting you on his side holding you upright.

“Don’t push yourself.” Cyno sighs, frown etched in his features as he ruffles your hair.

“Take care of them, please.” Cyno turns, glancing back at Al Haitham before turning and leaving.

“He’s so busy, I just wanted to know how he’s been.” You slur, the alcohol was wearing off but your speech was still affected.

“You’re busy too, you know?” Al Haitham holds you closer when he feels you shiver as he pushes the door open.

“Don’t be like that, we all know if anyone is busy is you.” You hum, closing your eyes at the warmth radiating off him.

“I-It’s just been a while since I’ve seen him, I wanted to catch up with Kaveh.” You hiccup, stumbling over your foot making Al Haitham stop.

Kaveh left for a project a while back and he’s been making visits here and there, you thought you’d be able to catch him today but you're more than sure you just missed him.

“Why do you bother?” Al Haitham lowers his voice, pain flooding his chest when he sees your eyes glossy struggling to stay open

Al Haitham shuffles to a near bench and sits you down before kneeling in front of you, tapping your cheek for you to open your eyes.

“Cause I miss him. It feels strange with him gone.” You say even if it hurts, feeling your eyes burn again.

You blink a few times to take in your surroundings and realize how close Al Haitham is, a small laugh making its way out your mouth when you see his face.

“Haitham, you d-don’t have to worry about me. You keep frowning all the time, the frown on your face will stay forever,” you whisper, your hands lifting up to both sides of his face, making his breath hitch. “You should smile more, you know?” Your own smile widens when you move your thumbs to the corners of his lips and gently tug it up, seeing him smile though it was forced by you makes you happy. A rare sight.

Al haitham can’t bring himself to sigh or roll his eyes, your warmth and your laugh was enough to render him speechless.

“You’re telling me.” he whispers, catching himself analyzing your face, the small crinkle your eyes make when you smile, your pretty lips turned up not downwards anymore and the proximity of how close you were, it made him want to stay like this for just a little longer.

You feel a chill run down your spine again, Al Haitham feels the slight tremble of your hands and closes his eyes. He can’t relish in this feeling for too long.

He gently grabs your wrists, pulling them away before turning around, kneeling facing away from you.

“Get on my back, let’s get you home.” Al Haitham peeks behind and sees your eyes widen.

“No need to do all tha-“

“Archons please get on, it’ll be easier for both of us.” He signals, opening his arms as he hears you sigh and shuffle, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his back.

He hooks his arms around the bottoms of your thighs before turning, “are you comfortable?” He asks, feeling you nod your head yes, a small sound of approval coming from you.

He wastes no time, standing up effortlessly and making his way to your house.

“Sorry you have to deal with me like this, I don’t know how you do it.” You speak up, head leaning on his back, feeling your eyes start to close again.

“Stop already, it’s nothing.” He says almost instantly, his arms tighten around your legs a tad bit when he feels your arms around his shoulder hold him closer.

He hears your breathing steady and knows you fell asleep by the way your hand hung around him more loosely.

“I just can’t understand why you still bother with him. You don’t deserve this.” He whispers, eyes trailing from your wrist to your fingers, seeing a thin red string snug around your ring finger following it down to where his hand is just underneath your leg, seeing his ring finger connected by the same string.

» kaeya

You tuck your hair behind your ear as you take one last glance at the mirror. The butterflies in your stomach makes you feel like a teenager.

Kayea walks slowly towards your room, standing still when he takes it to your open door. Only leaning his shoulder onto the door frame next to him when you come into view. A small smile crawls its way onto his lips at the sight of you.

“Why what’s this?” Kaeya hums though he knows why you’re ready, why you look so beautiful right now just like you do every time he looks at you.

“Oh stop it, it’s just something old I put on.” You feel your face burn slightly as you turn to him.

He swears time slows down, your giggle reaching his ears making him smile wider than he liked to.

“Don’t be like that, you look beautiful.” He whispers the end, catching himself staring at you for too long.

“You flatter me. You know I look dumb he’s going to laugh when he sees me.” you laugh but Kaeya can hear the dissatisfaction in your voice, see the unpleased look in your eyes when you look back at the mirror.

Dumb? flatter you? you’re joking. He thinks what your saying is all one big joke because he can’t begin to fathom where you got these things from.

“He would never,'' Kaeya says seriously, eyeing you from the mirror making you turn to him. “I'm sure Diluc will be more than pleased, who wouldn't?” Kaeya clears his throat when he catches himself staring at you for too long again.

“Sorry, I’m being dramatic. I know it’s just Diluc, I get so nervous around him.” You admit sheepishly, smiling to yourself.

Kaeya feels a nasty sting in his chest at what you said. Hearing you get nervous, seeing you get dressed up for someone that isn’t him, for Diluc makes Kaeya feel sick. But shows no signs, only sending you a closed eyed smile in return.

“He knows he has to keep you close y/n, everyone in Mond was bummed when they found out you and the renowned bachelor we're seeing each other.” He tells you, making you scoff playfully, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah ‘everyone’ huh? I doubt that.” You laugh, Kaeya feels the pain in his chest worsen.

“Can you help me put this on? My hands are too shaky to do it.” You turn to him, holding up a small gold necklace, a small crimson red jewel catching his eye.

“Of course,” he smiles, pushing himself off the door frame and walking to where you stand. He takes hold of the delicate piece of jewelry, the crimson red jewel leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In Kaeya’s opinion blue always fit you better. “Hold your hair up for me darling.” He teases, making you scramble.

You grab a hold of your hard and lift it up. Kaeya’s hands make work, looping the small chain around your neck and clasping the hook together.

He stills, takes in everything. Your sweet perfume, your soft hair, the warmth coming from standing close to you. His eyes travel forward to the mirror in front of you to which of course you weren’t looking at.

He can’t begin to describe what he feels when near you. It’s like everything around him stops, it’s peaceful. Kaeya’s hands move from your neck his hand slowly reach for your hands.

A knock at your door makes both of you turn to the main hallway. Kaeya’s hands immediately pull down.

“Oh he’s here! I’m not ready, I still have to- there’s no time!” You rush around grabbing your bag and a coat.

“This will have to do, archons, why do I take so long? Kaeya,” you stop in front of him making his breath hitch, your scent hitting him making him feel intoxicated.

“Yes?” He asks, voice barely above whisper.

“How do I look?” You ask, eyes staring up at him in anticipation awaiting his answer. He feels his lips turn up though the pain he feels in his heart only worsens tenfold.

“You look beautiful.” His whispers, making your eyes light up, a wide smile appearing at his words that he meant with every fiber of his being.

“Go out there, I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” He looks at the door down the hallways separating you from Diluc.

He wishes he can tell you to stay, to take you out himself instead but he can’t, not when you look at Diluc that way. He can’t be greedy.

You nod his answer making you feel giddy. You turn around and make your way down the hall before turning back to Kaeya. “Thank you, for always having my back.” You smile at him, seeing his famous smirk make its way onto his face.

Kaeya’s face feels heavy, he doesn’t want to smile. He doesn’t want you to smile like that for someone else. He feels himself move but he stops himself from letting his legs move to where you stand.

You wave goodbye to him and reach for the doorknob.

Kaeya feels the string around his finger tug, looking down seeing the red string pull his ring finger a tad bit following its trail to where it’s connected. To your hand, the same hand that’s opening the door to leave.

_________________

author’s note: hello my loves! ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა happy very late new years! I hope your holidays were well and wish you all nothing but the best for this year! ok uhh I know I just wrote for kaeya but it’s it it uh IT HAD TO BE DONE this man LIVES in my head 24/7 rent free ijustlovehimsomuchplease- so I had to include him in here! as for al haitham he’s just so- I have sm inspiration when I write for him like what?!?! the potential this man brings AHHHH he’s an angst magnet hehehehehehe (evil laughter) this au popped in my head while I was playing genshin and listening to laufey - lovesick (her music has been on repeat for the past few months she makes me into such a sad hopeless romantic!!) and I immediately knew I had to write it! so here it is! behold bagels first angst of the new year :3 i hope you all enjoy! remember you matter, your important and to take care! ^~^<33 (also this is not proofread! apologies for any errors!!)

hi there, I just read and loved “long overdue” and I was wondering if you could write another story about Joseph, kinda same plot with y/n being an actor in ST4 and some (a lot of?) smut with Joseph being of the dom kind and being into choking and spanking and stuff like that, and the sexual tension being soooo noticeable on set.

Please please please, your writing is SO good x

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

Summary: You are part of the stranger things cast, and even though you never admitted it, you and Joseph both like each other, and one day, when he invites you to his house to "practice a scene" your true feelings find a way to come out.  

Warnings: SMUT: unprotected sex, choking, spanking, and prob. other things

A/n: This...this is dirty.I feel like I enjoyed writing it much more than I should have. ALSO thanks a lot for saying that my writing is good. It means the world, really.

TIRED OF RESISTING

"good morning my love" Joseph said walking towards you. You snorted and tilted your head to the side, looking at him "My love?". "Absolutely" he whispered as he got closer to you, put his hands on your waist, and kissed your cheek. You felt a shiver go down your spine, just like you always did when he greeted you like that.You had noticed he only did it with you a long time ago, but had never said anything, It's not like you were gonna complain. You loved feeling his hands and lips on you, even if not where you wanted them the most.  "You look really beautiful today" he leaned away, not letting go of your waist. Your mouth opened to speak but the words got stuck in your throat. He smirked at your reaction "Oh, come on, I'm sure people tell you all the time" he said in a low voice and you felt yourself blush. You swallowed nervously and laughed softly, trying to play it off, still not able to produce a coherent sentence. He still had that smug grin on his face, undoubtedly conscious of his effect on you. His eyes darted to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. "This is new" You frowned, confused He leaned into your ear "I usually have to use other methods to render women unable to speak" You widened your eyes as he backed away, smirking at you one last time before walking away. You remained there, frozen as he calmly made his way out of the set. What just happened? "Cut!" the director yelled. You stopped and took a step back, bumping into someone, your behind hitting them first. "Oh shit, sorry" you said turning around and placing your hands on their chest "I'm not sorry at all" Joseph chuckled  You rolled your eyes playfully "Of course it's you" "Like you wanted it to be someone else" he said, moving some hair away from your face. "Maybe I did"  His lips twitched into a sly smile "Sure" he said, putting his hands on your waist  "Sure you did sweetheart" he murmured making you squirm at the pet name. You bit your bottom lip, trying to keep a straight face as your heart was pounding in your chest. "stop" he whispered, bringing one of his hands up to your face and using his thumb to stroke your lip, signaling you to stop biting it "you have a way too beautiful mouth to be treating it like that" he murmured, getting closer to you "and secondly" he looked at you hungrily "it's very distracting" Your breath hitched as you started feeling dizzy. God, this man "Are you two done?" Gaten's voice startled you " we have a scene to shoot" "hey, so I was thinking," Joesph said as he pulled you to the side. You had finished the last scene of the day and everyone was already leaving. "oh-oh" you joked, feigning concern He rolled his eyes at you "We have that scene tomorrow. Y'know, the one just you and me." he looked into your eyes" And I think we should practice it together" he said. "You know, it's a really important one and I wanna do it well" You raised your eyebrows and nodded "Yeah, sure" He smiled and you noticed something creep into his eyes, something you couldn't quite identify. "Great. my house in like" he looked at his watch "two hours?" he asked "All right" you smiled "See you in two hours then" you said as you started towards your trailer. You wanted to get away from him as soon as possible before he could, as per usual, say something that made you weak in the knees, making you change your mind about going to his house. Which, you were just now realizing, meant being alone, just the two of you, with no way out of his penetrating gaze or of his flattering words. Oh god. What had you done?   "What was that about?" Natalia asked as you walked towards her. She was waiting for you to walk to your trailers together since they were next to each other. "What?" She tilted her head to the side and glared at you  "Oh, that?" you asked pretending to just have understood the question. "Nothing" you paused. You knew what her reaction was gonna be and you were trying to come up with a lie. Nothing came to mind. Whatever "I'm going to his house to practice tomorrow's scene" you said, trying really hard to sound casual. She opened her mouth in shock  and you shot her an annoyed look" We're just going to run lines, it's not a big deal" "You know, for being an actor," she chuckled to herself " you're a really bad liar". You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. You had taken a quick shower, changed into a pair of jeans, and put on a  black t-shirt, which you were now noticing, was very tight. You wanted to look good but not too good. You were just going to practice a scene after all. "Hello my darling" he said as he opened the door. You smiled "hello to you too" "Please," he said, gesturing you to enter "Come in" You did as told and looked around while he started walking towards what looked like the living room "It's a very big place you have here" "Big?" he turned towards you "Big" "It's big" he agreed, a slight smirk forming on his face. "You want something to drink?"  "Oh, no thanks. I'm fine "  He turned to you, his eyes traveling up and down your body, stopping for a second too long at your cleavage. "You look pretty" You laughed softly "That's the second time you've told me today"  "I can't help it" he liked his lips "What, you don't like it?" You swallowed nervously "N-no, I do. It's just-" you had no idea how to explain to him that every time he complimented you your brain would turn to mud and your heart would start racing so fast you thought it was gonna explode. "Or do you not like the way it makes you feel?" he asked in a low voice, taking a step towards you. You cleared your throat. Oh god, you had entered the house not even 2 minutes ago and you were already unable to speak. Great.Just great. "W-What are you talking about?" "Oh come on" he chuckled "Do you think I'm blind Y/N?" he asked, taking another step. He was looking straight at you and you swore you could see a  fire burning in his eyes. "You think I don't see the way you look at me?" he took another step. "The way you stare at me when you think I don't notice?" another step. he was now right in front of you, gazing at you hungrily. "You think" he brought his right hand up to move some hair away from your face. lingering for a moment to stroke your cheek." I haven't noticed how your breath hitches every time I touch you?" a shiver went down your spine. He put his other hand on your waist and leaned closer to you"You think I haven't noticed how you blush every time I kiss you?" he whispered to your ear before gently placing a kiss on your cheek. he put both his hands behind your back, forcing you closer to him. You felt like you were about to faint and have a heart attack at the same time. What the fuck was happening? Was this some kind of extremely vivid dream? "J-Joe" you managed to stutter in a thin voice. "I know you want this Y/N" he murmured, leaning even closer to you. You could feel his hot breath on your lips and his scent was intoxicating you. "Tell me you want this" he growled You opened your mouth to say something but immediately closed it again. Was this real?  You lifted your eyes and looked into his. Lust was all you could see. You bit your lip, god you wanted to kiss him. "I told you not to do that"  You frowned. he brought one of his hands to your mouth, calmly placed his thumb on your lower lip, and dragged it downwards, freeing your lip from your teeth' grip. His finger lingered on your mouth for a moment, before he moved his hand, placing his palm on your cheek and his fingers on either side of your ear, holding your face. He wet his lips and looked at you sternly "you still haven't answered me Y/N" To say that your heart was racing was an understatement. You peeked up at him, desire evident in your eyes. "Please" you whispered "please kiss me, Joseph" you begged. You saw his eyes light up and before you could even process what was happening his lips were on yours, and oh god, they felt like heaven. He tightened his grip on your face as he deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth. The hand that was on your back started to explore every inch of skin accessible. He started caressing your ass as he moved his other hand to your hair and tugged them, making you gasp softly. You felt a smirk form on his lips and he didn't give you enough time to comment before he pushed you against the wall beside you. Your back hit the wall and you looked at him, your mouth wide open. He slowly looked at you up and down and smugly grinned "Finally" he whispered, more to himself than to you, you suspected, and in one second he was on you again. God, his lips on you felt a thousand times better than you could have ever imagined. They were so gentle and yet so aggressive just like his hands, touching you all over like you had dreamed times and times again. You moaned softly into his mouth as he squeezed your ass hard. you heard him chuckle softly as his other hand grabbed your leg and brought it up to his waist, starting to caress your thigh as he took you by surprise and bit your bottom lip, looking up at you cockily You felt all of your desire and need pool in your lower belly as you gave him a pleading gaze. He let go of your lip and kissed you briefly. "How about we go to my room?" he asked in a deep voice.  "Please" you exhaled. He pushed you onto the bed and placed himself in front of you. You sat up confused. "get up" he ordered. You frowned. He had quite literally just thrown you there. Why did he want you to get up? "Get up Y/N" he urged again, and this time you obeyed. He smirked subtly, clearly pleased "good girl" he gave you a quick kiss and took your place on the bed. You turned towards him, your brows still furrowed, your confusion evident. "Take off your shirt" "W-" You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off "take off your shirt Y/N" he purred and you swallowed nervously. You slowly took the end of your shirt and pulled it off, looking at him anxiously. His eyes immediately fell to your breasts and he bit his lip, holding back a grin. "See? I knew you would be good sweetheart" he praised you with a deep voice. "Now take off your pants for me, will you?" he asked, and you obeyed hastily this time. quickly taking off your shoes and jeans. You knew it was wrong but you were starting to like this. Putting on this little show just for him, just as he wanted was turning you on even more. You were sure your panties were gonna be drenched by now. His eyes traveled down your whole body and he smirked smugly. "Take off your bra"  You started taking it off. Slowly. excruciatingly slowly "Y/N" he warned you, and you smiled softly, happy to know that he was desperate for you just as much as you were for him. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to your feet. Joseph groaned loudly, his eyes glued to your now free breasts. He got up and stepped towards you. His eyes hungry and full of desire. He grabbed your waist and pulled you so close to him you could feel his hot breath on your lips. "You did good" he whispered before crashing his lips with yours. His tongue immediately found its way into your mouth as his hands started roaming everywhere on your body, with particular attention to your ass. He gave your ass a small spank, before pushing you onto the bed again. You propped yourself up on your elbows as he undressed in front of you, his eyes never leaving your body, as you admired the view. You blushed as you realized he had caught you staring at the obvious erection in his boxers and he just smirked, getting on top of you. His mouth found yours again in a passionate kiss, as one of his hands found your breasts and started desperately squeezing and stroking them. "You tell me a word and I'll stop, ok?" he said, catching you off guard. You nodded  "Use your words sweetheart" he said coyly, looking into your eyes. You swallowed thickly "O-ok" "good girl" he praised you as he tore your panties off of you and pushed two fingers into you. "OH MY GOD" you yelled "Sh,sh,sh" he shushed you, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you. "It's just my fingers" he whispered curling them inside you and hitting the spot perfectly, making you moan"if you make this much noise for just those" he chuckled as he sped up his movements"I don't know how you could react to the real thing" he stopped, making you whimper. he leaned away and took off his boxers. You liked your lips as your mouth involuntarily widened. "You're gonna be good for me, aren't you?" he asked as he positioned himself between your folds. "You're gonna take it all the way right?" you nodded   "your words Y/N, use them" "Yes-I'm sorry.Yes.I'll be good" you promised He groaned softly "that's what I like to hear" He looked at you one last time before slowly starting to push into you. You winced at the stretch and shut your eyes, already feeling tears starting to form in your eyes. He didn't stop and slowly continued filling you until he was completely inside you. He hissed just as he did and you opened your eyes back again. He brought one of his hands to your face to wipe a tear away from it and he kissed you quickly before, without any warning, thrusting into you aggressively. You gasped loudly and he bit his lip., enjoying the view under him. He thrust into you again and this time it didn't hurt as much, and you moaned softly. "good girl" he spoke proudly, as he started pounding into you relentlessly, making your tits bounce with each thrust. One of his hands made its way to them and started to not-so-gently play with them, squeezing and stroking, uncaringly about how you liked it. You were moaning his name like a prayer as his pace quickened and the hand that was on your chest made its way up to your neck, tightly gripping it. Your mouth widened as a loud moan escaped your mouth "That's right baby" he pounded into you even harder "take all of it" the sound of your body slapping together was brutal. "take it like the good girl that you are Y/N" His grip on your neck tightened and your vision started to blur. "So good for me baby" he said, bringing his thumb to your clit and circling it. "Oh god!Joe!" you cried out, shutting your eyes. You were close. you could feel it and joe felt it too. "Oh, no sweetheart" he pushed himself into you and leaned closer to your face, tightening his grip on your neck " Until I say you can" he moved his waist in a circle, making you moan faintly "You're not allowed to come" he whispered lowly, ghosting your lips and leaning away. "b-but Joe" you pleaded, already feeling way too close to your release. "Do as I say Y/N" He thrusted into you again, making you moan loudly. "pl-please" he thrusted into you again and freed your neck from his grip, rendering you able to breathe normally again. He stroked your cheek as he continued with his pace. You felt pressure build up in your lower belly and you knew you were close. "Please Jose-"you tried begging him but stopped as he ceased his movements and pulled out of you. He looked down at you smugly. Your mouth opened to protest but he instantly cut you off. "Turn around" he instructed. You immediately did as told, desperate for your release. You got on all fours and looked behind you to see him. He was biting his lip and staring at your ass, just like you could have probably predicted. "God you're hot" he mumbled as he put his hands on either side of your waist and got to his knees. "Even hotter than I had imagined" he said before licking a stripe through your folds without warning. You groaned at the feeling and pushed your back against him. He chuckled at your reaction and kissed your clit before coming back up. "Don't worry sweetheart" he pushed into you" It's coming" he promised. He picked up his pace quickly, making you cry out his name desperately. Somehow he was getting even deeper from this angle. "Joe!" you screamed. He brought his hand down to your right ass cheek, striking it hard "That's right baby" he spanked you again "Scream my name sweetheart" and again. You did. you cried out his name as he spanked you again, even harder. You were getting closer. You could feel the pressure continuing to build. "Please" you moaned as he caressed your backside after one last spank "P-please Joe. I'm gonna cum"  "I can feel it baby" He groaned "God, you're squeezing me so good Y/N" his voice strained. He was close too. "Come for me sweetheart" he trusted into you hard "Come on my dick baby". You didn't need to be told twice. You let yourself go and with one loud moan, you came all over his cock. He grunted at the feeling  "So good for me" he mumbled"such a good girl" he muttered as he pounded into you one last time before he came too, filling you up completely.

"Was this your plan all along?" you asked him through half-lidded eyes "maybe" he grinned, leaning closer to you "you didn't even wait 5 minutes after I got in the house"you smiled. "I know, I just couldn't resist anymore"

Alright no problem.

A category I would like is the upper rank demons. Thank you.

MODERN AU! YANDERE UPPER MOONS (some)

REQUEST: Upper Moons s/o grows distant from them. Then they start talking to someone new via their phone. It's implied or shown that they're gaining feelings for the person in the phone. Later, the yandere finds out.

Includes: Akaza, Douma, Gyutaro, Koukushibo

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, weird ass writing

AKAZA

Akaza has watched you enter your password thousands of times, so, of course, he knows it by heart. However, he never felt a need to go through your phone despite how viciously his curiosity gnawed at his restraint. He trusted you undoubtedly though it was foolish to do so.

The poor soul; betrayal is truly a curse. A brisk gleam had piqued his interest and he wish it hadn't. He wants so badly to not believe his eyes, praying for a means of deception or even a facade. All the lies about who you were texting, and who you were with had to be true! He could not fathom you doing such a thing, slicing him so deeply with what felt like the sharp-edged end of a blade.

His actions after were merely on impulse — on rage and desire even. Yet he did not feel an ounce of remorse. He was unable to sympathize with the person who tore you away, and instead dwelled in the satisfaction their death had brought him.

⠀⠀WORK HAD BEEN especially tiring that evening. Fatigue had wracked your body like a dangerous drug, rendering you with little desire to move. Alas, you had to make it home. Your phone had died, leaving you no source of contact with the one who had slowly captured your heart.

⠀⠀Once you got home you were greeted with a comfortable silence. It wasn't all that strange seeing how Akaza enjoyed working well into the night, and getting off earlier left you a few hours at your disposal. You were quick to dive into the white duvet of your mattress, relishing in its warmth. A nap had followed suit with your phone set securely at your bedside, powered off, as you gleefully waltzed into a land of undiscovered dreams.

⠀WHAM!

⠀⠀You jumped at the abrupt sound. It was loud and left you quite concerned for the condition of your door's hinges. Nonetheless, you hastily descended down the short flight of steps as your bewildered hues were quick to meet his own only a mere inch from the entrance.

⠀⠀“You're home?” A rhetorical question. “Where were you out so late?”

⠀⠀Your inquiry was more off instinct rather than anything else, but the quick flashing of the clock had proved you right. It read, “3:00 am”; four hours past his usual time of arrival. It hadn't bothered you too much, though it was very unlike him.

⠀⠀You sighed at his lack of response. Another thing that was out of character. You approached him in calm yet confident strides. However, the closer you drew, a familiar scent wafted at your nose; metallic like pure polished iron. It made you sick. Your brows furrowed in mild concern as his current state struck you with great worry.

⠀⠀There wasn't any blood that you could see. But the scent was pungent, so much so that it had begun to cloud your senses.

⠀⠀“Hey, Akaza, are you okay—”

⠀⠀“Are they...better than me?” He was quick to cut you off with a biting tone. It brought a shiver down your spine as it was the coldest you'd heard from him. “Answer me.”

⠀⠀Choking on your words you stutter out a response, “Wha...what do you m-mean?”

⠀⠀His sharp eyes narrowed into slits, nearly lacerating you into two. “I saw them.” He continued. “The messages.”

⠀⠀As though it were second nature, your hand ghosted over your pocket in slight desperation, feeling for your phone. But it wasn't there. You were sure you grabbed it and the thought of losing it had instantly soured your mood. Patting, digging, tugging on your pockets but to no avail. It was gone and you had no clue as to where it could be.

⠀⠀“W...here...”

⠀⠀Looking up at Akaza he wasn't the slightest bit impressed. He reached into his pocket, taking the device in his hand. The device you'd recognized as your own. “Looking for this thing?”

⠀⠀A sickening CRUNCH! resonated through your shared apartment; loud and wretched to your ears. Your phone had clattered to the floor and with it the contents it had once held. You struggled to swallow the bile crawling up your throat, plunging to your knees with a harsh thud.

⠀⠀“You won't be needing that anymore. I have a feeling that ‘friend’ of yours is no longer with us.”

DOUMA

Indeed, he is quite favored amongst nearly every person he's come across. Darling, look at him. Even so, his attention remained on you from the beginning to the very end. Thus he's rather confused; why are you going behind his back?

Surely you must know Douma is no fool, for he knew about your little conversation from the start. Yet it fascinated him. This searing pain in his chest, bubbling and boiling with an unrecognizable emotion — could it be agitation? He asked himself. Nonetheless, it was only welcomed for such a short time before he no longer desired its presence.

Jealousy is such a pain; but he's not heartless, darling! I jest — he absolutely is! It'd be best to listen to him while he's playing nice because knowing him, he'd much rather give you an ultimatum than simply mutilate your little mistress or maistre. However, you can never be too sure.

⠀⠀THAT EVENING Douma had dragged you to the basement of your shared home, much to your dismay, claiming there was a surprise awaiting you. You'd thought nothing of it as he was always quick to shower you with anything you could ever ask for. But if given the opportunity you'd run like your life depends on it. Not for any particularly reason.

⠀⠀Though this time it was different. He had a strange skip in his step that made your heart quiver. Not many things in this life made his heart squeal with joy, or even jump for the matter, so what could've possibly done it now? The sheer thought of finding out made you all the more uneasy.

⠀⠀Something wasn't right.

⠀⠀Squeaky hinges were quick to interrupt your peace as they cried out under the weight of Douma's hand. Upon opening, a foul scent hit you like a harsh slap in the face, nearly causing you to gag at its intensity. Instinctively, your hand shot from your side and to your nose, but it did very little to ease its pungency.

⠀⠀You glance to your side and shockingly enough, Douma wasn't fazed in the slightest. He looked bored rather, as he silently waited for you to collect yourself. Though not for long.

“Ah~, it's a shame. You don't like it do you?” Douma whined. “Getting my hands dirty is no fun, even when it's for you, yknow!”

⠀⠀The sight of the mutilated corpse made your heart stammer. It was subtly rotting, suggesting its time in this place. The features adorning it were all too familiar. The realization had dawned on you far too late. The one who made you happy. Who comforted you on endless occasions. Who loved you He killed him.

⠀⠀Douma twirled the man's phone between his fingers before huffing loudly, successfully acquiring your attention. “You've been texting me for the past week and my, my, I wasn't expecting that behavior from you in the slightest~!”

⠀⠀Why hadn't you noticed it before?

⠀⠀That week his (not Douma's) responses struck you as somewhat abnormal but you'd merely presumed it was a figment of your imagination. The increasingly flirty texts that you so foolishly played along with would soon become your downfall.

⠀⠀“Don't cry now, dear,” Nimble fingers dig themselves into the softness of your cheeks, making you pucker up like a fish. “I'm sure you never thought about how I felt seeing you go behind my back so often.”

⠀⠀“So don't be so selfish.”

KOUKUSHIBO

Kokushibo, more formally known as Michikatsu, has never been a confrontational man. Yes, he indeed found your strange actions to be interesting. His strong infatuation proved such.

Being the attentive man he is, Kokushibo was quick to notice your peculiar actions regarding that phone. The field of giggles that would often slip past them. The long nights you spent staring at its flashing screen instead of attending to him who was at your side. The times you sneak out with no regards

Kokushibo had followed you, for his curiosity had truly bested him. He's always been number one no matter where he went. Thus he can no longer feign maturity. He had grown desperate for your attention and time. The demon could no longer lay restless at night, dreaming of you being held in another man's arms.

⠀⠀THE TRUTH was on the tip of your tongue just waiting to be told. His stare shook you to the core, leaving you fearful and uneasy. You shifted on the balls of your feet in anticipation, hurriedly waiting for him to break the silence.

⠀⠀You had gotten all dolled up for your scheduled night of rendezvous, expecting to slip into the night like a ghost as you always did. But of course that wasn't an option, not today. For a man who you once called your lover was seated on the couch with a thick book tucked beneath his fingertips, as waited for you to make an appearance.

⠀⠀And you did not disappoint.

⠀⠀“What've you been up to?” He had asked, a simple question that required a simple answer. You were an adult so it couldn't have been a problem, right?

⠀⠀Right?

⠀ WRONG.

⠀⠀“I...I was just...” You cursed under your breath at your useless stammering, opting to grip the end of your shirt to provide some solace. “Going out...I was just going out...”

⠀⠀“Where?”

⠀⠀Your knees trembled, ready to give out under your weight any moment now. Something about his gaze made your stomach churn. It was so kind and yet very knowing, as though he was well aware of the late-night endeavors you partook in. And yet he could not look at you with anything more than love and true understanding. You felt guilty.

⠀⠀You had caved and crumbled to your knees, begging him for forgiveness. You'd never felt so weak. So stupid. Deceiving such a kind man who would never do anything to hurt you or those around you (that's not true). He even feigned obliviousness to your terrible actions when he had the choice not to.

⠀⠀Kokushibo swept you into his arms, carefully rubbing smooth circles into your back. Your nails dug into the soft fabric of his kimono, searching for comfort within his arms. A faint smirk grazed his lips. You truly were perfect, always making his job easy for him. He hardly had to lift a finger!

⠀⠀Nothing ever gets past him. No one will ever take you away.

⠀⠀“Forgive me for what I've done, but it'd be best that you do not contact that person any longer.” He presses his lips to the shell of your ear . “They're gone.”

So TG enjoyer here, I'd just like to share some opinions about the dreaded Daeron cut. First, your anon is probably right about Helaena being the only other dragonrider for TG. There is really no way Aemond can't do it all by himself being the sole dragonrider. Helaena would be the only one left to fill that void while Aegon is out of commission. The Reach plot would need one, which I think Aemond would be taking, especially once Hugh and Ulf betray TB. He can't be holding both the Riverlands and the Reach by himself, which is where Helaena comes in. I think many of you have this fixed idea of Helaena being a pure, incorruptible victim but I think she fits parts of Daeron's arc well. She can start off just like Daeron who was kind then got corrupted along the way. Helaena has a bigger stake than Daeron which could be used as her motivation. This is why I disagree with you wanting Helaena to be just a "plot device". They didn't give her the dreamer ability for nothing, not with all the other dreamers that are going to be adapted in the future. Idk how they'll do it but it could be visions of the prophecy and rumored past Targaryens through her.

I'm also going to be honest here: Aemond was NOT doing anything important in the Riverlands. He just burns smallfolk, makes stupid decisions that costs TG greatly, then he gets killed by Martin's favorite Daemon. He wasn't fighting any army while there and neither was he getting Riverland lords to pledge for TG. This was all Criston Cole's work during Rook's Rest and he dies shortly after he steps in the Riverlands because of Aemond's indecision. His whole arc in the book was written to look pathetic compared to Daemon, so I really wonder why some people are looking forward to his arc where he was rendered useless compared to say Daeron or Aegon. There wasn't much about Alys either except for her association with Aemond and she didn't make any significant impact to the plot during the Dance. So this is like people in glass houses throwing stones when you talk about Helaena being just a plot device.

I also don't think the TG Riverlands plot would do well long-term in a tv adaptation because of how skippable it would be. Most of the Riverlands plot is about TB. For TG, there isn't much happening there until the Battle Above God's Eye. It wasn't just because Aemond makes stupid decisions, but other plots happening to other characters just completely eclipses his arc while he does nothing of import. His mass murdering is also going to be a tired act so this is why I can see him getting parts of Daeron's arc too. So if he's going to be the biggest threat in the show, then he has to be moving around. This can equalize him and Daemon in the show and give him something significant to do.

In conclusion, to all TG enjoyers here, I think what many of you fear with Daeron being cut is not as bad as you think. Imo the show is already giving more to TG than we think and Ryan Condal seems to favor TG a bit more.

Daeron will be featured in the show!

He's introduced in the opening sequence and his dragon is mentioned by Daemon in Episode 10 (Edit: the dragon part is disputed but he will included either way). Rest assured, he will make an appearance either in season 2 or 3!

No need to twist someone's arc out of shape to make it fit with our own wacky idea. Instead - let's just wait and see what happens!

'Heat' and 'threshold' for Buck? Juno xx

Yes hello! 👀 Always game to write more Buck. And, well, I really wanted to take a moment to write him with Lottie, with whom he's got a bit of a complex something going on. I've set this after the events in full of grace, but it can be read as a standalone for sure. Half of this was written as a voice exercise for their relationship ages ago, and finally repurposed here in what feels like its proper place. 😊I don't think this piece needs a warning that isn't covered by the blanket "Lottie's a bi disaster"-tag, so... we're good to go!

heat / threshold

“I ain’t apologizin’ any.”

The shadow cast over her seems to shift slightly at the snap-and-bite she’s laced her words with. Lottie doesn’t bother looking up. Keeps her arms locked around her knees. Presses her face against her legs when the shadow doesn’t go away. Something curdles in her belly – low, aching, sharp like the bile in the back of her throat – that makes her feel all wrong. Makes her want to jump out of her skin in a way that leaves her head spinning and her choices less than fine.

“Jesus, Ace.”

She hates his long pause that makes her nickname a punctuation mark in his mouth. He sounds flat. Tired. She hates that she’s not Lot to him now. He calls her that every other time – even when he’s Major and she’s Captain and they’ve got a job to be doing – but never when he’s mad at her. The fact that she’s Ace to him now stings worse than the scrape on her knuckle that hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.

“You’ve got to stop fighting,” he says, then, and that’s a tune she’s heard from him before. “Hey? You have to.” His boots meet her toes. His flight jacket lands on the sand beside her. His sigh fills the air as much as his lingering aftershave does. “You listenin’ to me?”

“Yeah.” She allows a beat to pass. “Sorta.”

“I mean it.”

“I heard ya just fine, Major. Sir. Gilly Gale Cleven of the three-five-oh.”

He scrapes his throat. “Jesus, you’re really gunning for it now.” He still doesn’t go away. If anything, he moves that much closer. Folds himself into her space as he sinks down onto his jacket. He nudges her shoulder as they come to sit arm-to-arm, foot-to-foot, jacket-to-jacket. “What happened out there, Ace? Tiny said something about you and some of Blakely’s crowd?”

“Something like that.” Lottie shrugs. Keeps her gaze fixed on the small dent in the lone water canister Benny hasn’t picked up yet. “They ain’t learned to keep their mouths shut yet. Carter especially. Shutting them for ’em seemed… prudent.” She affects her mother’s tone on the last word. All debutante-socialite judgment rendered with the precision of a bullet. Is rewarded for it when he snorts out something that, in a better universe than this one, could very well be a laugh. “You give them a talking-to, too? Little lecture? Or am I the lone lucky one to face Major Cleven’s disapproval, sir?”

“Put a lid on the sirs, Ace.”

“Stop callin’ me Ace and I’ll think about it, sir.”

“Lot,” he rasps out, then, and goddamn she doesn’t like how her eyes sting when he nudges her again, “you really need to stop fighting us.” You need to stop fighting me is what she hears, exhaustion lacing his voice, not even an admonishment in place for the tone she’s taken with him. “All right?”

“I hear ya, Gilly. Y’all just get under my damn skin sometimes.” She tries to not make it sound too much like she’s sulking. Ain’t sure she’s succeeding when he chuckles and stretches his legs out beside her. “I don’t know. I don’t got anywhere else to put that feelin’, ya know?”

“Sky ain’t enough, huh.”

“The sky shoots back these days,” she says conversationally. “Gotta leave the pain on the ground. Take anything up with ya, it’s gonna make ya crash.”

“Ain’t that a truth.”

“I ain’t Val, I ain’t good at lyin’ to ya. Unless Bucky asks me to, of course.”

“Of course.”

Lottie exhales a noisy breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Gale’s face is serene when she glances at him. His hand finds her bruised knuckles. “Do better, Lot. I know you can.”

“You really believe that horseshit, huh.”

His hand squeezes hers none too gently before he releases her. “Manage a week. I’ll take you flying after. How’s that sound?”

“Like a damn impossibility.” Her voice cracks. She blinks furiously as her lower lip starts to wobble. “I… I don’t think…”

“Gotta start somewhere. This heat’s got all tempers at a high. Perrault has yet to take a breath without insulting John in the process.”

Lottie sniffs. Wipes at her cheeks. “Bucky deserves it.”

“I’m sure he does.” His smile is wry. His cheeks are flushed with heat. The start of a sunburn is already sprawling over his bare chest, beneath the glint of his dog tags. “You wanna talk about it now or later, Squeaky?”

“Not at all?” she hedges. Ignores the way his eyes narrow at that to the best of her ability. “I’m sick of talkin’, Gilly. Sick of people askin’ me shit.” She bites her lip. Wishes she could draw blood with the action. “You might as well be the only one who’s nice to me lately. Even if ya call me Squeaky.”

“Benny was plenty nice to you after we landed.”

And she can’t fault him for it. Can’t even hate him for it. “Yeah. He was.” She swallows thickly. Her head feels like it’s about to start swimming. “Darlene likes him a lot, ya know? Can’t be mean to him when she’s all soft about the guy.” Can’t be mean to him even when he makes Darlene smile in a way she hasn’t smiled at Lottie in a long time now. “I ain’t got a problem with Benny, all right?”

“All right,” agrees Gale, even when his tone suggests it’s anything but. He scrapes his throat. Pointedly doesn’t look at her. “Next time you want to fight a guy, Lot… You try me first.”

Lottie blinks. Stares. He is looking at the same water canister she was, earlier. “You? Gilly,” she laughs, breathless all of a sudden, “I ain’t gonna fight you.” I like you too much for that. “You’re my superior officer and all that shit, remember? You tryin’a get me into trouble here?”

He grunts a little. “Trying to keep you out of it, actually.”

“That don’t make sense.”

“What, me wanting to keep you out of trouble?” He laughs. Glances at her, all crinkled eyes and far too much warmth in his gaze, and her belly swoops the same way it did when she first stood on the threshold of a cockpit. “If you fight me,” he continues, speaking straight through the static that fizzes to life inside her, “I can chalk it up to training. Say it’s friendly. If you fight anybody else, they’ll demote you eventually. Send you home, if you keep going.”

“So, what, you’ll be my punching bag?”

“This bag will still punch back, Squeaky,” he snorts, nudging her. “And hard, too. You’re not the only one with a mean right hook in this squadron.”

“You’d punch a lady like me, Gilly?” She flutters her eyelashes at him. Nudges his shoulder none too gently. Anything to shake that feeling inside her that feels treacherously like butterflies. “No warnings, no takebacks, no apologies? Give it to me good and hard?”

His cheeks flush a deeper crimson than before. “Jesus, Lot…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ve already hit your max on dirty chatter for the day,” she laughs, lifting her sunglasses out of her hair and donning them again. “Can’t fault a girl for jumping on it though. Think of it as me perfectin’ your poker face in case you run into them Nazis. They ain’t gonna crack you during interrogation.”

“Pretty sure them Nazis won’t crack a hundred crude jokes like you do.”

“Pretty sure that makes them more boring than me.”

His answering laugh is soft. Doesn’t carry beyond where they’re seated. “Pretty sure you’re the least boring person in my world, Lot.”

Her cheeks feel warmer than the rest of her does, even though she’s been sunning herself in this mid-day heat for at least an hour now. “Bucky’s gonna cry if you tell him that,” she says, leaning her head on his shoulder long enough for him to tense and then relax under her touch. “But ya sure know how to make a girl feel special, sir. Marge is damn lucky to have ya.”

His shoulder tenses just a fraction beneath her cheek. Just enough.

It’s easier when she draws this line for both of them, or so she’ll tell herself half a million times more.

Pairing: Elriel Rating: E Word Count: ~4k Tags: Kindergarten Teacher Azriel, Shibari Artist Elain, Fluff, Smut, Social Media, BDSM, Modern AU Summary: After a messy breakup with her college sweetheart, Elain retreated from her life as a social butterfly, moved home to Velaris, and started a work-from-home career as a shibari artist and a playful, kinky influencer on social media. She’s perfectly comfortable at home, using her earnings from her small online empire to build a greenhouse in her backyard and start a side-hustle as a florist.

But her little sister, Feyre, is eager to get Elain out of hiding—and to set her up with a man to whom she might cling for some peace and quiet. However, there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to Feyre’s long-time friend and the local kindergarten teacher, Azriel.

And Elain knows it all too well.

Read this fic on AO3!

Despite her tooth-chattering nerves and the dark, bitter coffee Rhys had presented her with when he swung by her house to give her a lift across town, Elain was still yawning when she followed him into the small auditorium at the back of the school the next morning.

“Elain!” Feyre’s head popped out from behind an upright slab of jagged plywood—the backside of Night’s three mountains, Elain realized—with a tired, slightly crazed look in her eyes. “You’re here!”

Oh, how Elain wished she wasn’t in that moment.

“I can go,” she offered, only half joking, as she rubbed a bit of sleep from her eyes and peered around the room. “Whose idea was it to schedule this so early anyway?”

The entire auditorium was in chaos. Feyre had taken command of an entire corner, filling it with half-painted set pieces and mountains of rolled paper in every color of the rainbow. The small platform that served as a stage was blanketed in painted canvas, the backdrop only half hung. Fairy lights dangled in haphazard swags from the ceiling—a dangerous croak of metal-on-metal caught her attention, and she turned to find Cassian perched atop a rusty ladder that looked liable to collapse under his weight, adjusting the twinkling web of lights.

And at the bottom of the ladder, steadying the worrisome thing, was the monster of a man that had kept Elain up all night long.

In a soft navy sweater she wanted to sink her fingers into and an even softer pair of joggers, Azriel didn’t seem nearly as intimidating as he had in the shadows of Rita’s deck the previous night. He was still criminally tall, still just as firmly, mouth-wateringly muscled as he had been when he backed Elain up against that railing and promised to make her his while he pressed every hard, tempting line of his body to hers.

Mine, his voice echoed in her mind. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. Mine, mine, mine.

But today, in the watery morning light streaming in through the high windows and gilding the dark, windswept locks of his hair, the man looked so huggable that the butterflies in Elain’s stomach fluttered with such force that she worried they might shred her to bits with their delicate wings.

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, yes. 

And, as close a family friend as Azriel, he was a very, very bad idea.

But he was so damned huggable that Elain couldn’t bring herself to care.

Her world fell apart in slow-motion as he cocked his head, registering her arrival, and turned. All she could see in the chaos was the bare expanse of rich, brown skin where his sweater rode up and the long, tempting lines of his hips where they disappeared into those joggers, pointing toward—

Mine, mine, mine—

“Mine,” Rhys teased, and Elain jolted, tearing her eyes away from Azriel in time to catch her brother-in-law tip his head toward the coffee cup in her hand, “but I’m afraid payment has been rendered, so you have to stay.”

“Oh,” Elain grinned, curling her chilly fingers tightly around the cardboard sleeve. “Does it really count if you got my order wrong?”

Feyre scoffed, dropping the paintbrush she was holding into a stained plastic cup with a splash, and hustled up the skinny pathway left between rolling carts full of boxes and craft supplies. She scrunched her nose at Azriel, who went stone-faced as she passed. 

“They’re all terrible about that. Sugar police, all of them,” her sister complained, huffing. “But Rhys is the real sadist who—”

“Refuses to let his darling wife develop diabetes again or expose her genetically predisposed sisters to the risk.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “It was gestational diabetes, it went away, and it happened five years ago.”

“Nevertheless…” Rhys clicked his tongue. “Nothing cures a hangover like strong black coffee.”

“Fortunately, I’m young and resilient enough that I don’t get hangovers.”

“Yet, my love.” Rhys’s eyes glittered. “You don’t get hangovers yet.”

For once, Elain was thankful for Feyre’s incessant flirting—thankful that she didn’t have to give a moment’s thought to which man in the room might be the real sadist. She stepped into the open circle of her sister’s arms for a hug, dodging Rhys and the smear of wet paint on one of Feyre’s cheeks. 

“You can go if you really want,” Feyre muttered into her ear. 

“I was just kidding. I can help,” Elain said, and left it at that. 

Tired as she was, the rest of their night out had been a calm one, even though she spent most of it suspended in a state of shock that a group of adults who woke up anywhere from four to six in the morning all week long could stay out so late. 

She had returned to their table alone, still shivering with the cold and lingering nerves. Sliding in beside Rhys had been easy; the air inside the bar felt changed, lighter, less oppressive—but she’d thought that maybe the change had been something within her. Something Nesta might see the moment she laid eyes on her.

But even though she worried that the lascivious details of her run-in with Azriel were written on her face, no one spared her a second glance when she sank into her seat, breathing into her palms to thaw her stiff fingers. Nesta was riled up about something as usual, snapping at Cassian, and Rhys and Feyre had gotten tipsy enough to become consumed in an overly affectionate world of their own. Only Mor had paid enough attention to notice her return, sliding Elain a fresh cookie with a little smile, and when Az returned a moment later with her drink and Mor’s brows rose, he had given his friend a look so flat that it made Elain squirm.

But Mor, unflappable as ever, merely shrugged and returned to licking the frosting off of her own dessert.

They migrated to Sevenda’s for a real dinner to pad out the alcohol after a few more rounds. Even then Azriel had been a gentleman, quietly helping Elain and Mor over patches of ice on the sidewalk without once giving anything away. Without hinting to anyone else what Elain saw when she curled her fingers into his elbow and held on for dear life—the darkening of his eyes and his too-even, disciplined breaths. Not even when dinner stretched into the early hours of the morning, when Elain’s attention ended up on Azriel more often than not after she finally began to feel the effects of the wine and good food warm her from the inside out, did he so much as hint that he’d captured her ankle between both of his when they first sat down across from one another and hadn’t let her go for hours.

And finally, the brush of his lips against her ear when he helped untangle her limbs and lower her into Nesta’s car for the long drive home. 

Sweet dreams, bunny.

That near-silent rasp was more intoxicating than anything she’d had to drink the entire evening, flooding her bloodstream like molten ore, and it had kept Elain up all night long.

“Aunt Elain!”

Feyre stumbled back as Nyx soared through the tiny gap between them and curled himself around Elain’s legs.

“Gentle, Nyx,” she warned him, catching Feyre by the strap of her overalls before she could topple over.

“Sorry.” Her nephew turned his big, blue eyes on his mother, waiting until Feyre softened to aim them back at Elain. “But Aunt Elain, did you see?” Little plastic wings sprouted from the fist he held up to her. He opened his hand when she bent down for a better look, revealing a grinning, winged warrior in bedazzled medieval armor with the longest sword Elain had ever seen strapped to his back. “I got the Lord of Bloodshed!”

Elain blinked at it—and at the blood splatter bisecting its face. When she opened her mouth, a faintly horrified “Wow, Nyx!” was all that came out of it.

“I already have the Spymaster.” Nyx hugged her legs tighter and then launched himself away, slashing his toy through the air with a loud swoooo-oosh! “Now I just need Death Incarnate, and I’ll have the whole set.”

“Death Incarnate…?” Elain stared after her nephew. 

Such a big word for his high-pitched, little boy voice.

“Don’t ask. Cassian got him hooked on this awful cartoon,” Feyre warned her, rolling her eyes. “And they do those mystery packs of action figures. Nyx has been dying to find that one for weeks now.”

From the top of his ladder, Cassian crowed, “Don’t act like I didn’t catch you watching it, too!”

“It’s too mature for him,” Feyre admonished, but a guilty flush stole over her cheeks. Rhys made a quiet, amused noise, and she glared over her shoulder at her husband. “Don’t encourage them!”

Rhys shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels. “I didn’t say anything, darling. Why don’t we let Elain get settled in? She can…”

His violet eyes scanned the auditorium. Elain clasped her hands together around her cup, trying not to feel too awkward as Rhys’s brow furrowed.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any greenery that needs arranging?” she offered when the silence stretched for a beat too long. “Wreaths, garlands, that sort of thing?”

Feyre gasped. “Oh, the garlands! We forgot the garlands. I knew we were leaving out something.”

Elain wilted.

“I could use some help.” 

And perked right back up as Azriel shifted toward them again, revealing the firm plane of his stomach that Elain wanted to get on her knees and—

“I was just about to finish rigging the backdrop when we were done with the lights. Feyre said you crochet, right?” Every thought in Elain’s head floated away, replaced by a chanting chorus of rigging, rigging, rigging. Azriel flashed her the barest ghost of a polite smile—and the look simmering behind his eyes that told her he was more than familiar with the barely-there bikini she’d crocheted on camera and then tried on for her subscribers last year. “Then ropes shouldn’t be too much different. Rhys can take over with Cassian while we work on the stage.”

Elain was going to spontaneously combust and die. She was certain of it.

But in the meantime…

She nodded, pretending not to see the grateful look Feyre and Rhys shot at Azriel.

“Great.” Azriel waited until Rhys took his place with Cassian, and then tilted his head toward the stage, leading the way with long, steady strides that did nothing to quell the wildfire spreading through every inch of her. 

She only remembered herself when Azriel loped up the few stairs and ducked beneath a thick rope holding the backdrop aloft, lifting it out of the way for her to follow. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, eyeing the framework of metal and canvas and rope.

Azriel simply hummed, bending down to snatch something out of the shadows beneath the backdrop. “Don’t you?”

A scarred hand held out a small bundle of expertly coiled black nylon rope. Industrial rope, nothing like the smooth, soft lines of the Shadowsinger’s preferred cotton, but the knot holding it together was too intricate, too artistic, to belong to anyone but him. 

She shot a glance over the top of the backdrop toward her family, but no one was looking at her. Feyre was too busy swiping broad swaths of paint over her mountains, while Rhys shook the ladder until Cassian scowled down at him.

“I—” Elain crossed her arms over her chest, but her eyes were anchored to the rope. To the fingers that flexed and stroked the rope as she watched. “You are… Oh, you…!”

Her tongue tied itself into a knot, and she huffed. What could she say? Difficult? Bothersome? Or, to take a page from one of Nesta’s grocery-store historical romances, vexing?

Elain cursed the innate primness that, no matter how much porn she made or filthy, kinky sex she had, she had never managed to shake off.

Every insult she could bring herself to say lacked heat, and everything she wanted to say—tempting, infuriating, cocky, arrogant—was too rude to throw at a family friend she barely knew. Too insulting to use against the man she desperately wanted to tie her up and take control of her pleasure.

Too bratty.

“Say whatever you want to say, Elain,” Azriel said, as calm and unbothered as the glassy, still surface of a lake. She wrenched her attention away from his hands, redirecting herself to focus on his face, and found another message written in the wry twist of his lips.

For now.

Abruptly, Azriel turned, gesturing at the hanging frame of metal poles spanning the width of the stage. The backdrop was already clamped to it with a handful of clips, but Elain could see them straining beneath the weight of the canvas and paint. “I’ve already set up the frame that we’ll attach the backdrop to. I just need someone to help thread ties through the grommets in the backdrop and make about a hundred knots to attach the two.”

“And then you’ll suspend it?” Elain studied the system of ropes and pulleys hanging from the ceiling. Azriel made a noise of confirmation, and she glanced at him. “This is awfully sophisticated for an elementary school.”

“It was a weekend project that took a couple hundred bucks at the home improvement store.” His eyes slid to hers, sparkling with amusement. “I’m just lucky to have a principal dedicated to maintaining a robust arts program.” 

Elain rocked back onto her heels and nodded. “And I suppose it helps to have an expert rigger on staff…”

“It’s not quite my preferred medium,” Azriel admitted. He didn’t bother to refute her, or even to pretend at modesty as he absentmindedly tapped the coil of rope against his thigh, and she burned. “But not having to pay a contractor was a bonus.”

Again, he offered her the bundle of rope. This time, Elain took it, curling her fingers into it, seeking out the warmth his hand left behind as if she might touch him by proxy, and noticed it was cut into foot-long increments. She fingered the ends of the segments as he stepped away; each and every one had been neatly melted down, likely with the same silver lighter that she knew Azriel had in his pocket, so it didn’t unravel.

“Look at me, Elain.” Azriel’s voice was a low timber, brushing against the back of her neck and curling into the hollow behind her ear. A bit of rope rasped against her skin, the touch too firm not to be deliberate, and Elain gasped.

The auditorium disappeared, and it was just the two of them, alone in her room. Surrounded by her soft duvet and her jasmine-scented candles and bundle after bundle of the Shadowsinger’s black rope. All she knew were the twisting fibers he wound over her collarbone, tracing the lines of her shoulder blade, and his warm breath grazing her skin. His fingers, pulling at a knot to make sure it was secure and pulling the breath from her lungs as he did. A hand cupping her breast through the harness he crafted for her, the rough pad of his thumb flicking over a pebbled nipple. His cock, straining against her ass as he bent her over the mattress and prepared her to take every last inch of it.

She turned her head and looked at him.

“You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?” He was looking down at her through those thick, dark lashes, his eyes heavily lidded, and Elain was reminded of the way he’d stolen a look down the front of her dress the previous evening. The way he’d luxuriated in the sight of her, as if her worn-out cotton bra was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. 

And although the question was spoken in little more than a whisper, it sent a shock of desire through right to her core.

Gods, the effect he had on her without even touching her.

Dazed, Elain nodded.

“Good girl.” Azriel’s slight smile was devastating, and he tapped her arm with the rope he must have picked up when she wasn’t paying attention. “We’ll start in the middle of the backdrop and work our way out. Just use a square knot, and make sure to put some cute little bunny ears on the ones you tie.”

Elain’s knots were fucking flawless.

Each and every one was perfectly identical, and the backdrop was entirely smooth, not a single tuck or pull in sight hinting at any issue with her tension. 

He had expected her to be good, but Azriel couldn’t find a single fault with her work.

And Elain, who was blinking up at him with her wide doe eyes, seemed entirely oblivious to the way he wanted to throw her over his shoulder, tell Rhys to go fuck himself, and spend the rest of the weekend giving into his basest, beastly desire to stake a claim on her while rewarding her thoroughly for a job well done. 

Hell, it was a gods-damned miracle he hadn’t given into the temptation to cuff his belt around her wrists and take her on Rita’s deck. He was many things, but an exhibitionist he was not.

But that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Elain Archeron, with her gentle heart and her beautiful, deceptively innocent face, deserved so much more than a quick fuck at a dive bar. Frankly, she deserved more than him—surely there was some attractive, perverted billionaire out there who could put her up in a penthouse and get off on her spending all of his money when he wasn’t tying her up—but Azriel couldn’t find the willpower to give a shit.

“Well? Do they pass muster?”

Azriel huffed, flicking the loops on top of one of her knots. “I think so.”

Elain beamed, and Azriel wanted to possess her mouth. “You know,” she started, flicking her eyes to the side. “You said we’d speak more today…”

“Did I?” Azriel couldn’t resist teasing her, couldn’t resist the way her cheeks turned pink for him. He knew the blush fell beneath the high neckline of her sweater; he knew the tops of her breasts were stained with the same color as her face. “About what?”

“A collaboration.” Elain squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, her gaze direct, and something in Azriel’s chest thudded alarmingly against his breastbone. 

He could see the slight hesitation lingering in that movement, the hint of insecurity in the way she shifted on her feet, and knew it had something to do with the reason she returned to Velaris, the messy, panicked way Feyre and Nesta had circled the wagons when they realized their sister wasn’t doing well. 

“I usually film on weekdays,” Elain went on. Although she kept her voice hushed, it was firm, and he admired her more for it. “But I’m free next Saturday if you’d like to...”

She trailed off, swallowing whatever she was planning to say next.

Azriel took pity on her. “Saturday works. We can swap numbers and plan more during the week.” He tipped his head at Rhys, who kept rocking the ladder whenever Cassian reached for the final strand of fairy lights; they were a convenient excuse to slip away before he damned himself to a deeper layer of hell. “I don’t think I should leave them alone together for much longer.”

And, he privately thought, a little distance might give her a chance to ghost him with a bit of grace when he finally revealed everything he wanted to do to her.

“Okay.” Elain beamed at him, pulling her phone from the back pocket of the tight, tight jeans Azriel had been doing his damned best not to stare at for too long, and handed it to him.

He tapped it awake, and the home screen slid away with a swipe of his finger. He lifted a brow.

“No passcode?”

“That’s my personal phone,” Elain explained, tangling a hand in the curled ends of her hair. “I usually keep my, ah, work on separate devices.”

“Oh, so it’s a privilege to be added to this one.” Az opened her contacts, ignoring the way he wanted to replace that hand with his own, and created a new one for himself. “I see.”

She pulled nervously at her hair, the tips of her fingers going white as the circulation cut off—

Ah. A bad habit. 

He made a mental note of it. 

“It’s overdue. I’ve been avoiding…” She sighed. “Everyone, and I’m afraid that meant you, too.”

“Nothing wrong with wanting little personal space,” Azriel reassured her as he saved his information and sent himself a quick text before opening her browser. “You seem to be doing well enough now.”

“I am,” she agreed, looking up at him through her lashes, and he caught only a glimpse of the small smile that bloomed on her lips before forcing himself to focus on her phone again.

He could not get turned on in sweatpants. Not with his brothers fifteen feet away, always painfully attuned to any opportunity to embarrass Azriel, even at their big ages.

And certainly not with Elain’s sister squinting up at them from her painting station.

A few minutes of searching led Azriel to the he was looking for, and he flipped the phone in one deft motion, offering it back to Elain. He savored the impressed look on her face, the wide eyes and round lips, that made showing off like a pathetic high schooler worth it. 

“What’s this?” she asked, zooming in on the worksheet he’d downloaded for her. He caught a glimpse of one of the items on the list—anal plugs - public under clothes—before her eyes went impossibly wider. She turned the phone off, shoving it into her back pocket.

“It’s a consent worksheet. I want you to mark your preferences and limits before we meet again, so we have a clear baseline established,” Azriel explained, but from the shy, dawning look of understanding on Elain’s face, it was unnecessary.

Nevertheless, a beat passed as she glanced back at the auditorium for a moment before her jaw dropped. “…You’re assigning me homework?”

“I thought you might be more comfortable filling this out on your own. No external pressure. You can look at mine when we meet on Saturday, and we can decide where to go from there.”

She shifted on the balls of her feet, lifting her fingers and the curls wrapped around them to her lips. “So…” Her voice was hushed. “Definitely homework.”

Az suppressed his grin.

“If that’s how you want to think of it. Should I bring a red pen and deduct points if you fail to fill something out on Saturday?”

Elain sucked in a breath. “You would do—?”

“Az!” Rhys’s voice slashed through the tense air between them as Elain rocked forward, and Az glared toward him. But when his brother redirected his attention toward Nyx, fast asleep on a pair of folding chairs and on the verge of toppling onto the hard ground, Azriel’s irritation melted away. “Come get him before he gives himself a concussion, will you?”

Elain made a soft sound, her hands curling together over her heart.

Azriel chuckled and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her back through the web of rigging keeping the backdrop aloft. 

“Fill it out,” he reminded her as they stepped off of the dais. “And text me if you have any questions. I’d hate to give you a bad grade.”

Elain was already a mess when she fell onto a small folding stool beside Feyre, but as she watched Azriel kneel in front of Nyx, tickle him awake with gentle hands, and then lift the drowsy little boy into his arms, carefully tucking his Lord of Bloodshed toy into one of his pockets, she thought death by nervous butterflies and spontaneous combustion would be too slow.

It had to be criminal to be so attractive.

Even Feyre heaved a smitten sigh as Nyx buried his face in Azriel’s neck. Azriel bent his head toward Nyx, shadowing him from the fluorescent lights as he swayed gently to some unsung tune, and Elain echoed her.

“He’s so good with him, isn’t he?” Feyre asked distantly, and all Elain could do was nod. 

Would it be too weird if she took out her phone to take a picture? It would, wouldn’t it? All of a sudden, she couldn’t tell. Her hand was already itching toward her pocket.

“You wouldn’t believe it looking at them, but when Nyx was little, Az used to act like he’d shatter him.” Feyre snorted and shook her head. “I think he wasn’t used to children being quite so small. He told me once that kindergarteners were much less breakable, but he stepped up in no time. And now…”

Her sister spared her the embarrassment and lifted her own phone from beneath a pile of crumpled papers, snapping a picture.

“I need to paint that,” Feyre muttered. She pressed a few buttons and winked when Elain’s phone buzzed. “So you can remind me to paint that.”

Elain’s answering scowl was half-hearted. “Oh, Feyre—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Nesta,” Feyre kicked at her stool until Elain stood and hooked their arms together. “Come on, heart eyes. We’re done, and I think the boys want to take him to the park when he wakes up. That’s a snowball fight you don’t want to get caught in.”

Tickletober Day 3 - Shriek

Fandom: Harry Potter

Characters: Sirius/Remus

Summary: Sirius loves the sounds Remus makes, especially when they surprise him.

Words: 891

[Tickletober prompts]

Remus was, despite being terribly quiet in most aspects of his life, quite vocal around Sirius.

(Get your mind out of the gutter, now.)

As children Sirius found that Remus didn’t say much, perhaps due to Sirius’ own inability to shut up and give him space to reply, but mostly he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. They dealt with that eventually, the four of them, realizing Remus wasn’t shy as much as he was scared of saying the wrong thing. “It’s okay, you know,” an eleven year old James said, grinning toothily at him in a way that made Remus smile back ever so slightly. “We won’t judge what you say.”

“We might tease you a little bit, but that’s all,” Sirius added, making Remus laugh for the first and certainly not the last time.

Remus grew more vocal as the years passed, resulting in him finding ways to turn even Sirius speechless at times, although usually because he was too busy admiring him for whatever sound he was making.

(Yeah, he was crushing hard. He refused to talk about it.)

The most surprising sound was hearing Remus shout. It didn’t happen often. Usually if he got angry he would snap and then go quiet, probably leaving the room to stew over whatever was going on alone. One day Sirius would talk to him about how his showing emotions didn’t mean he was a monster, but truth be told he didn’t like seeing Remus angry because it always turned into self-loathing if you approached him in the midst of it. Sirius couldn’t bring himself to cause that.

He’d only shouted a handful of times. Sirius had been rendered speechless during all of them.

The most comforting sound was the sound of him rambling when he was tired. The nonsense that could come out of that boy was astounding, and Sirius never used what he said against him since he knew Remus didn’t really think when he was half-asleep. This usually happened when they were alone, or far enough from others for only Sirius to hear. Head leaning back against the couch or, more commonly now, against Sirius’ shoulder (!!), words that made very little sense pouring out as Remus fought the futile fight against sleep. 

“Is that so?” Sirius would say, and Remus would hum as if they were on the same page and so very glad they were.

Sirius’ favorite sound was his laughter, naturally. He didn’t get to hear it as often as he heard James’ or Peter’s, but it was there, lingering in the background, much more quiet than all of theirs. James had once described Remus’ laughter as timid, which Sirius had to agree on.

It was louder when they were alone, though. That was Sirius’ most favorite form of it.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he was saying now, grinning at a giggling Remus.

Night hadn’t fully gripped the castle yet, but autumn was speeding up the process and Remus seemed exhausted at barely eight in the evening now. You’d think it’d be a good enough reason for him to go to bed early, but Sirius found him late at night in the common room with his face in a book much too often anyway. He’d been doing homework of all things that evening, the room nearly entirely empty, when Sirius had joined in. Add Remus’ exhaustion to Sirius inability to be, well, serious, and they were giggling in no time.

“All right,” he said as Remus pressed his face to his arm. “I’ll show you funny.”

Remus’ giggles intensified in a way Sirius felt honored to hear when he started poking at his back, an unconventional tickle spot that Sirius never wasn’t taking advantage of.

“How’s that?”

“Stop,” Remus whined, although the way he was squirming, barely moving that is, told Sirius he wasn’t being entirely truthful about wanting it to stop. 

“Hmm, maybe later. I have a spot I’d like to try.” Not that he hadn’t tried it before, but he was just using any excuse now to keep hearing this laughter, although he hadn’t expected Remus to shriek when he went for his hip.

Sirius had never heard this sound before and found himself momentarily frozen before squeezing his hip again. The sound wasn’t as desperate the second time, although it was definitely still a shriek of some sort.

That was the moment Sirius fully fell in love. That and when Remus looked up at him, joy glittering in his eyes and his scrunched up face and his helpless grin. Sirius was fucking done for.

“What was that sound,” he said anyway, laughing when Remus whined.

“Don’t tease,” Remus said, grabbing Sirius’ wrist. “I wasn’t prepared.”

Sirius poked his stomach. “I would never.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Well, would you blame me?”

Remus pressed his face against his chest this time, mumbling something incomprehensible before he started giggling again, although Sirius wasn’t tickling him anymore.

“I think we should go to sleep,” Sirius said with a hammering heart. He needed to process whatever the hell was happening inside of him alone.

“Mm, in a minute,” Remus said without moving, and Sirius spidered his fingers over his lower back on instinct before letting his touch soften to a caress. Remus hummed and Sirius refused to overanalyze it just yet.

He was saving that for later.

If you don't mind, could you give us a tutorial or brief explanation on how you render hair? /nf

YES!! unfortunately i got. very tired after making this so this is only one hair type :( was gonna go into all the different types of hair textures but. i will just have to do that later. also keep in mind i drew this in like. 7 minutes its just a simple guide to get out the basic steps

^i didn't put music in this so. listen to whatever u want while ur watching this (its 6 minutes 40 seconds). also its slightly sped up this isn't real speed

elaboration of each step under read more:

step 0: look at other hair tutorials/pictures of real hair to figure out how light reflects off of them. then completely disregard that and just make things up (this is the best artistic process trust me i do it every day)

step 1: just get out that basic shape. it doesnt have to be anything fancy,

step 2: just fill it in and adjust the shape as needed

step 3: figure out how the hair moves and flows, which parts go out more (highlights), which parts are closer to the head (shadows/base), etc. i highly recommend just looking at pictures of hair online, or taking pictures of your own hair. for coily/curly hair, you just kind of have to do this for each curl/coil. one thing to keep in mind the highlight is in the middle of the curl/coil and the shadows are on the edges (usually). i'll elaborate more on that once i have an actual video for it

step 4: just make it so the edges of the highlights transition a bit more smoothly into the base color. it just helps for later steps tbh. try not to over do it, don't want to completely get rid of the highlight, just soften it

step 5: add more highlights with thinner brush. this should be where the light would bounce off the hair the MOST. i think i forgot to say in the video uhhh add in some base value too. maybe a few shadows. mostly this step is for highlights tho.

step 6: idk what else to put here sorry. ngl just get silly with it

step 7: it is very important to do one stroke per area in this one. do not lift your pen off the screen/tablet/whatever until the little area youre working on is one smooth transparent shade, then move on to the next. idk if i'm explaining this right hopefully this makes sense.

step 8: complete opposite as step seven. make as many strokes as you feel it needs. not TOO many, just enough to get some texture and then some yk? i recommend making a copy of the layer youre working on before doing this so that if you mess something up you can always go back to square one.

also a lot of these steps apply to pretty much any hair type just. in a completely different shape with completely different rules. which is to say its exactly like this but it actually isn't like this at all. which is why i plan on making other videos some day (hopefully) also look up "hair texture chart" it will help you find the words you need to look up good refs

remember: always get silly with it. the only rule to to make things up and change your mind 400 times. bring a 'fuck it, we ball' mentality to your art program that the haters (your brain) really won't like. practice makes perfect and all that, do NOT expect to get something good first try, sometimes i still struggle with drawing hair in a way that i like and just scrap the whole thing. also i'm not kidding about those real hair reference pictures it helps so so much

hope this helped at least a little bit bc i am not good at explaining things 👍

Hostage/kidnapping Steddie AU

Steve is leaning against Eddies shoulder, breaths heavy, and there's a deep wheeze every intake that’s a bit worrying,

“Hey, Stevie, you awake?” The breathing continues but he receives no verbal answer. He jostles steve's head with his shoulder gently, not wanting to hurt him anymore, “Steve, buddy, I need you to say something.” Steve takes an extra deep, extra wheezy breath in and lets out a grunt of acknowledgment. It's not much but Eddie thinks it's enough if that's all he's going to get from the beaten and bloodied man. Long moments pass, enough so that Eddie jumps when Steve finally speaks, not expecting the hoarse voice beside his ear,

“ ‘mokay, Ed. Think I got a concussion. ‘Vrything spinning.” He sighs. Eddie goes through his mental checklist of what he knows about concussions which isn't much, “Okay, Steve, I need you to stay awake, we gotta make sure you don't fall asleep on me.” He says shakily.

Steve signs deeply again, “I know… but I'm just so…” he sighs a third time, “tired… gonna shut my eyes… for just a minute…” Eddie knows for a fact Steves eyes had already been shut, but he jostles the man harder,

“Nuh-uh, Sir. Can't do that, you gotta stay awake with me.” Eddie leans his head forward, looking at Steves face as best he can in the dim light. Purpling bruises covering almost the entirety of his face, his eyes swollen, but he can see those brown eyes peeking at him from where hes sitting and staring, his eyes tracking Eddies movements, “Hiya, Stevie.” Eddie whispers, trying hard to keep the fear from shaking his voice. Steve swallows audibly and his tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips,

“Hi, Eddie.” He croaks in response. He blinks slowly, his eyes taking ages to open again, “c’nyou do me a favor…?” He looks at Eddie pleadingly.

Eddie's brow furrows, “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says. He can see steve react to the pet name, but as mangled as he is, Eddie can't tell if it's a positive or negative reaction. Eddie shifts his arms behind him awkwardly, sending an extra curse to the bastard that tied his wrists at such a sharp angle.

Steve nestles into Eddies shoulder a bit more once the metalhead is done squirming, “if i don't make it…” Eddie shakes his head, putting a stop to the conversation quickly,

“Nope, no way, Steve, we're making it out of here together.” Steve let out a small grunt of disapproval,

“need you t’listen, ed. need you t’know.” Eddie cant look at steve anymore and leans his head back against the wall, feeling tears prickle his eyes. He gulps, trying to drown the golf ball sized lump in his throat,

“what is it you need me to know.” Eddie asks, his voice catching. Steve takes another wheezy beeath and shifts his head,

“V’got a will. N’my closet. Red box.” Eddie gives a distressed whine and shakes his head, snapping his eyes shut tight. He rests his cheek on the top of Steves head. Its like if he gets close enough to him, he can make this discussion go away. Eddie sucks air in through his nose,

“You've got a will?” Steve's response is another wheeze. He moves as if to bury his eyes into Eddies shoulder but whimpers in pain from his bruised face instead, opting back to facing forward,

“had to, after t’second time ‘round” Eddie can hear the hitch in the man's voice and curses his bound arms for rendering him unable to pull steve into his arms,

“what do you need me to know about it for?” Eddie asks innocently, too afraid to speak of the reality of the situation. Steve shrugs minutely,

“Odds cant run n’my favor forever. J’sncase.” He slurs.

(Ill probs post a part 2? Maybe???)

bro info dump, rn, also, what’s ur sketchin process? you got an art process bro? explain

Okay!! So!!! For my sketching process I start with just like. A stick figure. Basically

after I figured out that was something I could do it’s helped me IMMENSELY like it’s insane. It’s really good with helping me map out the scene I want, poses, and proportions and stuff. It’s a great starting point for me ig

and then after I get that down I just. Starting gettin to it I guess. Layin down shit y’know

I use a lot of different colors to help like. Differentiate different parts so it doesn’t just all bleed together when I look at it. Helps get stuff looking less wonky for me ig. Also the way I do sketching is a lot of going back and forth and like shifting around lines and smoothing stuff out via erasing. Generally really intentional and not quick or energetic or whatever. IDK it’s hard to explain

I also do a shit ton of moving bits around and resizing and rotating and all that. That’s like one of my favorite things about doing stuff digital is the fact that you can move stuff around basically effortlessly it’s great. That’s my crutch man

after I get my sketch how I want I usually do the background after, depending on if I’m doing a big background or not. I’ll either do the background between the stick figure phase or the entirety of the sketching phase. Doing the background then helps me from getting tired of the thing I’m working on A LOT like it’s like. A break I guess. Cause I don’t like sketching but I fucking love doing the backgrounds.

and for my backgrounds I have. Absolutely no idea how I do those it’s such a process. I black out when I do them I don’t notice the exact way I do them /silly /j But usually I’ll lay down the base shapes and colors and then do just. So much rendering. Like it’s really just me fucking around with colors and lighting and shading and stuff. That’s also usually when I establish the palette I wanna use for the piece. And I usually do the background in one go.

Then after the background I do lineart, which isn’t that exciting so I don’t got a lotta say about it. Same thing with the base colors, which I do after the lines.

THEN after that’s when it gets fun, which is when I do the rendering. For this it’s just a lot of me fucking around with shading and colors again I do like. Fifty (/j) passes of shading and lighting and just. Colors. I usually start with like a base of cell shading, which I’ll either leave as is or soften the edges with one of my brushes. Depends on the piece. THEN I’ll go in with my airbrush brush and slap on a bunch of the same shading color to like. Add interest I guess. usually I’ll keep my focus where my light source isn’t instead of just doing it all over it IS deliberate. Generally keeps stuff from being as flat as it would be if it was just the cell shading. And I do that for several layers and mess around with opacity and etc

these are kinda some good examples you might be able to see what I mean here

after I get the shading down’s when I fuck around with like. Overlays??? Sorta but not really but I dunno how else to describe it. Basically this is when I start layering on whatever my lighter value is. Usually it’s a bright red or a bright purple. In the spots I didn’t shade as much. This kinda like. Makes stuff more vibrant, cause I find that the shading can make stuff look less saturated in cases. Again idk how to describe it BAHA also that’s just how I like doing my colors 👍

the whole coloring process is hard to explain that’s when I really get Hyper Focused and get into this coloring frenzy so I’m not fully conscious of how I do it /silly

ANYWAY after the colors I’ll usually do the final touches of like, coloring my lines. I’ll airbrush on some bright red and/or purple in spots and then turn the opacity down so it’s not that in your face, but it is there, so my lines aren’t just pure black. Then I’ll lay on some low opacity layers of whatever my shading colors are, like a dark purple, to tie stuff together more. Then I slap on some random noise. Love that shit. And any final final shading rendering stuff and also usually I’ll add a border around the main focus (the character(s), usually) via copying the layer that is that character, putting up a color vector thing or whatever you call it, selecting it with my selector tool, expanding the selection a bit, and then coloring it again. Hard to explain but that’s the gist. And then I’m done!!!

So. Yeah. That’s the Armageddon Art Process I guess :] /silly

Find the word

Thanks @mk-writes-stuff for the tag!

My words: lost, hunt, beyond, awake

Your words: loud, lead, light, letter

Tagging @faeriecinna @mrbexwrites @lesleymoonwriter @i-can-even-burn-salad @dyrewrites @writeouswriter @sleepyowlwrites @elsie-writes @revenantlore @mysticstarlightduck + anyone else!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

Keep reading for:

Opening of TSP

Úrsula's daily life

Lexi is in Alium and very confused

Kelsey is low-key freaking out

Lost - from The Secret Portal Part One

Kwasiyaa screamed at the explosion behind her, but the sound that escaped her throat was masked by the deafening eruption. In her state, she lost control of her cloak that she covered over herself and her husband, rendering them temporarily visible. Her ears rang as Dylan wrapped his arms around her. Kwasiyaa breathed slowly as Dylan patted her messy dark hair. She stroked her swollen belly to remind herself why she was doing this. In what could only be a temporary hesitation, Kwasiyaa ensured her cloak concealed them as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder with her free hand. She gave Dylan’s hand a squeeze with the other, and they were off again. The two ran across the road, away from home and toward the dense, dark forest that Kwasiyaa knew so well. She looked back to where Atsila fought against an army set solely against her. Guilt pierced Kwasiyaa’s stomach. She couldn’t let it distract her—she had to keep the cloak steady. She could worry about her sister when she and Dylan were safe.

Hunt - from School of the Legends Year One

“Good evening, darling.” “Good evening,” Úrsula replied. Mamãe didn’t bother closing the door as she stepped inside Úrsula’s room. “How is Papai?” “Papai is tired,” said Mamãe, kneeling down in front of Úrsula, setting the tray on the floor. “He has been working extra shifts.” “Is he happy?” Úrsula asked. Mamãe sighed. “Yes. He is happy.” Something told Úrsula that her mother wasn't being entirely honest, but she didn’t want to press her. “So,” said Mamãe, “what have you been up to today?” “I’m almost finished with my book,” said Úrsula. “How wonderful!” “I’m at a really intense part,” said Úrsula. “The main characters are being hunted by a vampire.” “A vampire?” Úrsula nodded. “Well, then I should let you get back to it.” Mamãe began to stand. “Do you need anything else?” Úrsula bit her lip. “After I’m done with this book, I’ll only have four more of the last set you got me.” “Would you like me to get you more books?” Mamãe asked as she began to walk out the door. “Yes, please!”

Beyond - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

A movement in nearby teal shrubbery caused me to jump, but even more shocking was the creature that emerged: a bright blue hedgehog. Wait, hedgehogs aren’t native to America, right? Was this someone’s pet that got loose because it was mad it was dyed blue? That was the only rational explanation, unless I was somehow in Australia. It seemed like the type of place to have blue hedgehogs. The creature stared at me for a moment before scampering off. I stood and immediately fell over again. My legs were weak. I crawled to the nearest tree—its texture too smooth to be normal bark—and pulled myself up. “ASH!” I screamed as loud as I could. An unsettling sensation shuddered in my chest when there was no response. She had to be here, I reasoned. She had to go through that same tunnel I went through, whatever that was. I looked around for any other signs of humanoid life. Still dizzy, enervated, and using the tree for balance, I turned myself around and was relieved to see structures beyond the trees. Civilization.

Awake - from The Secret Portal Part One (Kelsey POV)

My head ticked, making a noise against the bed. Carmen fell silent. “She’s awake.” Shit! I screamed at my stupid nervous system but still didn’t move. “Are you sure?” Jedi asked. “You didn’t hear that?” “She was twitching earlier; it is likely just a tick that persists when asleep.” “She’s too tense to be unconscious.” “I noticed that as well, but how could she?” Jedi asked. “It’s only been about twenty minutes.” “She must be powerful,” Carmen said. “More than we’ve ever seen, I’d bet. Probably a higher-Leveled Class 4.” She sighed thoughtfully. “Well, that means she’s been listening to our entire conversation. Yay.” She sighed. “Either way, we’re saving her for last. Get the average powers out of the way, see what she’s made of.” Despite them knowing that I was awake, I didn’t move. I tried to figure out what in hell’s name they were talking about. Powerful? What type of power were they referring to? And what the hell does she mean she’s gonna save me for last?!

2:47 AM // SOUYA KAWATA // YKWIM

1:30 AM?

no, maybe it was 2. or was it a 3? your sight was too blurred to be able to focus your eyes on the single line slowly moving around the clock.

hours of staring at a bright screen and exposing yourself to far too much blue light than necessary left you drowsy and unable to glance away from your laptop for more than a second or two without getting a headache and rendering you unable to see clearly without rubbing your eyes and squinting.

it was long and tiring, but if not you then who were to finish the missing assignments that only seemed to stack the longer you worked on them?

the end of the school year was nearing, and with deadlines and final exams coming up you were forced to finally face the wave of tasks you’d been putting off due to various hardships and overall lack of motivation.

now you were left struggling to catch up and study while pushing yourself far harder than necessary and spending an unhealthy amount of time hunched over your desk while repeatedly telling yourself that it would be worth it when you finally got out for summer.

but it wouldn’t be.

it wasn’t worth it. deep down you knew it, and souya did too, which is why you didn’t protest as you normally would have when you heard the bed shift and light footsteps trail up to just behind you before feeling a tug on your hand which you hadn’t even realized was glued to the keyboard.

you didn’t complain when you met his gaze and noticed that the crease between his furrowed brows was bigger and the frown on his resting face was tighter than normally, you could only assumed he was a bit annoyed at your insistence of staying up late and making empty promises of joining him later.

you kept quiet as he kicked aside the mess of stray papers and notebooks on the floor, you didn’t have it in you to care that much about the notes. you let him take you by the arms and lead you back to “your side” of the bed, using the term loosely as you almost never stayed there throughout the night.

you let him my you down and drape the blanket over you while quietly reminding you that as much as he knew you wanted to catch up on work, getting sleep and making sure you take care of yourself was far more important than any failing test grade or missing assignment ever would be.

he reassured you that you would be just fine, that he would help you take care of it and that you shouldn’t worry while tucking you in before leaving your side, though not without a quick kiss on the cheek.

you weren’t exactly sure what he’d meant by that last part, but his words were reassuring nonetheless.

you wanted to thank him for his efforts, to shower him in love and forever go on about how he deserved the world and more, how you appreciated him as a whole, but the comfort of the blankets you’d been tucked underneath and the softness of the pillow under your head that still had his smell lingering on it was alluring.

you couldn’t stop your eyes from starting to close as you watched him sit down in the chair you’d been unable to tear yourself from on your own, the sound of clicking keys and taps resuming the moment his hands reached the keyboard.

he must’ve been picking up where you left off.

knowing him, he’d get flustered and insist that it was his duty as your boyfriend, but as you drifted off you made a mental note to thank him in the morning and remind him that you’d forever be in his debt.

— may or may not be inspired by my grades and laziness rn ;)

Wildest Dreams Chapter 5 - Death By A Thousand Cuts

Chapter summary: A new race weekend at a new track - it always means new opportunities to do better than your last race. Plus, things can’t get any worse than they were than the last race weekend, right?

Content warning: This chapter contains mentions of a racing accident.

Chapter word count: 2,656

Author’s notes: I’ve had a head injury before, but it wasn’t enough to actually render me unconscious, so those parts are all just what I imagine it would feel like. Also, if you’ve never seen the driver extraction process in the event of an emergency or accident, Mercedes did an F1 Explained video with the Grand Prix marshals practicing on one of their garage technicians.

Previous Chapter

Degerloch, Stuttgart, Baden-Württemberg, Germany May 16th, 2016

Bee’s time at home after France was extremely limited. Two race weekends were only a week apart, which was the only time this occurred on the calendar - for the other races this year, she’d have at least a few weeks, if not more, between events. 

But this time, she got home from France on Sunday night and had to prepare everything to leave for Austria on Wednesday morning. She’d spent the few days she had washing and packing the clothes she’d be taking (mostly RBR team kit), making sure her gear was in order and wasn’t showing signs of excessive wear. It looked like she was going to need a new helmet soon, but it would do okay for that weekend.

However, Bee wanted to contact Dr. Marko and explain the situation that happened in France, with Evgeni. She debated just waiting until she would see him in Austria, but the idea of talking to him in-person about her teammate attempting to assault her gave her a full-body shudder of revulsion. At least the phone gave her the benefit of physical distance. 

On Tuesday, while both of her parents were at work, after about an hour of rehearsing what she was going to say, she stepped out onto the back porch of her house and sat on the steps, and tapped Dr. Marko’s name in her phone’s contact list. She was almost hoping he would not answer, but there was no chance of that - he picked up on the first ring, almost as if he was expecting her call. He likely was, considering they needed to do their post-race debrief for the week. 

The call went about as well as Bee would have expected, but not as well as she’d hoped for. Actually, it was worse than she’d expected. She made a point to use German for the call, because she knew Dr. Marko would do the same. It took away a bit of the sting of his words. 

English was the lingua franca of the racing world - radio communications at the track are required to be in English, for instance, but there were a lot of German speakers in racing too. Dr. Marko’s English was more than fluent, his accent wasn’t even that thick - Toto was even more difficult to understand sometimes. 

But using her second, non-native language sometimes allowed Bee to maintain some emotional distance for delicate or awkward matters, or in matters where she needed to be as businesslike and professional as possible. 

She’d spent years conditioning herself to not let her emotions betray any internal weakness or inadequacy. 

As a child, some boy made fun of her for crying after a difficult karting race after she’d moved up to a higher class for the first time. It wasn’t a good day all around - it was a miserable Saturday. She was tired.  She was cold, wet from the rain, hungry, and had sent her kart flying into a muddy embankment because she hadn’t been used to the additional horsepower of the new engine she’d switched to for the new class she was racing in. The boy teased that she was too big of a crybaby to race, and that’s why girls didn’t race. The embarrassment she felt was immense, and she’d made a pact to herself to not let anyone make her or see her cry ever again.  

She wasn’t a stoic, though. She was friendly, she had a good sense of humor. She was an extrovert and loved to socialize. But that was a tool, too - being outgoing and being able to speak two languages were just the doming hammer and anvil she’d used to shape the mask she made for herself. 

France was different - she had been alone in her hotel room that night, her nerves worn threadbare. It seemed to happen every once in a while. It felt like she occasionally had to let her sadness, loneliness, and frustration bleed out gradually, crying when nobody else was around, in order to maintain control when she was around other people. She wasn’t even very emotionally demonstrative around her parents most of the time. Periodically, though, she found that she needed to pour out some vessel within her before it overflowed and gave people more reason to doubt that she belonged in this sport. She’d upended the vessel in that French hotel room and left it empty, too worn out the next day for it to fill again. 

When she rehearsed her phone call with Dr. Marko in her head, she envisioned herself crying. She thought she wouldn’t be able to help it, in spite of all the measures she took to protect herself from emotional outbursts. It was a delicate situation, and Dr. Marko is not a man you wanted to discuss delicate situations with. Instead she found herself shaking with white-hot rage by the end of her call.

Dr. Marko spared no empathy for her. He was ruthless in her assessment about her performance this year. He chided her for “trying to start trouble with Evgeni”, saying that his father was an important partner for the junior program. He went so far as to say that women lived to start drama and couldn’t handle their own business, and that he had taken on a risk by signing her because she had shown some talent. At the very least, he did Bee the courtesy of complimenting her performance for the first part of the weekend in France. He made her promise to focus her efforts in improving her results for the remainder of the season. After all, he said, the program picked her because of her good performance during her karting years, and she’d done incredibly well in Formula Renault and in her first Formula 3 season - there was no reason her performance should be falling off so dramatically this year.

He hung up as soon as their business was concluded, without any pleasantries or even a curt “goodbye”. That was normally his wont, though, so Bee wasn't surprised by that.

Even hours after her phone call with Dr. Marko ended, Bee was still angry. Every muscle in her body felt tense and wire-tight. She went for a run in an effort to try and physically exhaust her stress out of her, but it didn’t help much. She snapped at her father over dinner, when he asked what time her flight was leaving and when she had to be at the airport. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just… stressed out right now, I guess.” She said, her tone softening immediately. “But… I’m glad you guys are coming this weekend.” 

Generally, Bee’s parents were only ever to make it to races in Germany, like ones at the Hockenheimring. Traveling elsewhere in Europe just made for weekends that were too long, and while the Red Bull Ring was a six-hour trip from Stuttgart, they were going to make the trip anyway because it was something of a “home race” for Bee. That, and they’d never been to a race in Austria before, and Bee’s mom thought the province of Styria sounded like a nice place for a visit anyway - an idyllic trip to the European mountain country. 

After dinner, she double- and triple- checked to make sure she had everything packed she needed, even though it was only going to be a four-day trip. She was flying out tomorrow, and her parents would be joining Friday in time to watch the first qualifying round. A four-hour flight from Stuttgart to Graz, plus an hours’ drive out to Spielberg from the airport. Not the worst day of travel, but not the best.

Once she’d packed and repacked her suitcase several times, her mind was still full of dread and unease. She flopped back on her bed and opened her messages in her phone. She had thought about calling Susie to see if she had any advice, but she hated calling people unexpectedly, so she texted instead. 

“Hi, Susie! I’d hate to bother you if you’re busy, do you have a few minutes to chat? I could use some advice.”

She didn’t have to wait long for a response.

“Of course! Give me a few minutes and I’ll give you a call?”

“Sure! :)”

Susie called about a minute later. She and Bee had a nice conversation, both trying to avoid talking shop for a few minutes (difficult as it was). But eventually, the conversation moved back to racing - Susie talked about the Barcelona race, Bee talked about the France race, carefully avoiding talking about the incident behind the garages. She talked about how her recent results were making her nervous for the upcoming weekend in Austria - it was the longest rough patch in her career thus far. Susie’s advice wasn’t really something unexpected - every race was a new opportunity, as each race had to be treated as such. It’s a new track, different conditions, and so on. She also gave Bee some advice specific to the Red Bull Ring, as Bee had only raced on the track once in the previous season, and Susie had raced there before for DTM. Toto also knew the track incredibly well, and was able to relay some advice to Bee via his wife.

Bee felt much better after she hung up. It was nice to have someone to talk to that wasn’t her parents or her friends (who didn’t race and probably couldn’t understand, or they did race and were her competition). 

Spielberg, Styria, Bezirk Murtal, Austria  May 18th, 2016

Bee’s flight to Graz was uneventful. She tried to read a book, but mostly ended up staring out at the passing clouds, enjoying the fact that the noise in her mind was down to a dull roar for the first time in weeks. She met up with some members of her race team at the airport and joined them in a team-hired car for the hour-long drive to Spielberg so she could check into her hotel before heading to the track for practice.

By the time practice rolled around and she got a chance to get in the car and on the track, she felt much better. She was driving well, she was getting settled back into the circus of race weekend and was enjoying it. She’d seen Evgeni from afar and was doing her best to avoid him. The lap times she was putting down were good. Not great, but good enough to keep her team principal happy, and better than she’d been doing in previous races.

The first race went extremely well. The car was driving well, she was feeling tuned in, hitting every braking point and apex when she needed to. A couple of decent overtakes put her up in P4. 

“Maybe I can get on the podium this weekend after all.” She thought.

Bee went into the second race even hungrier for it. She was in podium position, just behind Evgeni, who was somehow in P2. She saw the opportunity for the overtake on Evgeni’s car, at last. She’d been hunting him down for almost three laps now, trying to watch for any sign that he’d leave a gap, but he was unusually locked in to the racing line this race. She was close enough now to be in the slipstream of his car. At last, she saw him slide off the line as they were headed into turn 9. If she could hang on to her position after the curve, she’d have a long straight she could use to catch him. She braked as late as possible so she could make her move, lining up with him on the inside line of the track, and then… 

Bee didn’t see him coming before Evgeni bumped her wheels to the side, but as soon as they made contact with her car, they caught her front tires and sent her flying over one of the track’s sausage kerbs, which sent her car airborne. It landed hard, but still managed to maintain some momentum before it ended up buried in the metal trackside barrier. She didn’t even have time to react or let go of the wheel. She felt the impact on her left side, felt the force of it travel up her arm. Time seemed to compress and expand all at once. She was trying to figure out which way was forward and backward. All she saw was that she wasn’t on the track anymore. She was facing the wrong way, the crumpled nose of her car buried in the metal barrier. 

As the initial spike of adrenaline faded, her vision blurred and dimmed to black from the edges, her ears filled with a dull ringing noise. After a moment (but she wasn’t sure how long), her vision came back in, but everything was blurry, and sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel. She heard a voice calling her name, realizing it was Geoff, her engineer, in her headset. The voice may as well have been in her imagination, as distant as he sounded.

“Are you okay, Phoebe? Please say something. Please respond.”

“I’m here. I’m here.”, she responded, and she was unsure of how loudly she was speaking because she couldn’t hear herself over the ringing in her ears. 

“Okay, red flag. Red flag. Race is red flagged. Standby for the medical car, they’re coming to get you. Stay with us, Bee.” Her engineer said. 

Bee felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. She felt like she was overheating. She felt giant rivulets of sweat pouring down her face and back. She desperately tried to get her helmet off to get some air and to try and get her balaclava off, but the pain that shot through her left arm when she went to release the straps so she could take her helmet off of her head had her seeing spots. 

She wasn’t aware how much time had passed until the marshals came to extract her from the car. They removed the harness and steering wheel for her, so she felt a bit less restricted. They took off her HANS device and helmet carefully and she was fitted with a neck brace and lifted out of the car, seat and all, and lowered onto a tarp stretcher that allowed her seat to function as a backboard. One of the marshals picked up her left arm and tried to position it against her body in a bracing position, but the pain overwhelmed her. It made her scream as she passed out completely as she was placed on the ground and then loaded into the medical car. Her awareness came in fits and starts after that, in non-continuous windows of clarity with nothing in-between. 

She saw herself laying in the back of what looked like an ambulance, then what looked like a long tube or tunnel. She occasionally heard voices in a language she thought she recognized, but they sounded too strange and distant to her for her to bother trying to understand them.

She heard herself saying that she was tired, and a voice she didn’t recognize told her she could go to sleep if she wanted to, that she was okay now, she was safe. It was reassuring, so she closed her eyes and let herself drift.

She saw someone putting something over her face, telling her to take deep breaths and count backwards from one-hundred.

She heard some sort of steady, rhythmic beeping, she felt tears running down her cheeks. What was she crying about? She wasn’t in pain. Actually, everything felt delightfully pleasant, like the world was soft and fuzzy around the edges. She was cold, though.

Well, maybe. She was shaking, at least, until she felt something heavy and warm drape over her body.

Her mouth felt dry. She could feel her lip sticking to her teeth. “Thirsty,” she said, to nobody in particular. It was just a statement of fact. 

Then she felt someone press something into her mouth. It was cold and wet but it brought her enough relief to make her start crying again.

She felt the wetness drip down her face and neck, not sure if it was her tears or whatever was in her mouth.

Then, there was nothing again, until she heard her mother’s voice.

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