#she didn't really know how to approach him

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Lost and found 2

Part 2 of this storie.

Genre : request, fluff, oneshot

Pairing : Lando Norris x teacher!Y/N

Main Masterlist

The day after the Monaco Grand Prix, Y/N sat cross-legged on her tiny balcony, sipping lukewarm coffee and grading spelling quizzes from her students.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: You owe me one, remember? Still waiting for my “thank you” dinner, Miss Y/N.

Her eyebrows lifted.

Y/N: I’m sorry… who is this and how did you get my number?

Three dots blinked back almost instantly.

Unknown Number: A good magician never reveals his secrets. Let’s just say… you left quite an impression.

Y/N: Lando ? How did you get my number? Did Sara give it to you?

Lando : (Contact saved) You left so quickly yesterday, I didn’t get the chance to ask. And no, Sara didn’t give it to me, though I suspect she’d do just about anything to help my case It wasn’t that hard to find you. Monaco’s small. 😌

Y/N stared at her phone, heart doing a weird little skip in her chest.

Y/N: You could’ve just asked like a normal person. I guess I did already say yes to a date... No need to recruit a spy agency.

Lando : Well, Miss Y/N, I didn’t want to miss my shot. Besides, you disappeared into the crowd didn't have time to ask

Y/N: Sorry I ghosted. I had 20 kids to not lost again Which, by the way, went surprisingly okay. No one else wandered off. Not even Ella, and she’s usually one “Look! A butterfly!” away from vanishing.

Lando : Impressive. Gold star for you. ⭐ Also, congrats to me, I guess? For the race? Just wondering if you noticed I, you know… podiumed.

Y/N: Oh wow, did you race yesterday? I had no idea. It’s not like you had your face plastered across every surface within a 3-mile radius. 🙄 But seriously, congrats. That was epic.👏

Lando : Was waiting for you to say that. Thanks 😊 Felt good. Monaco wins always do. But you know what feels better?

Y/N: What? Your lap time? The smell of champagne on fireproof suits?

Lando : Having a date with a cute teacher.

Y/N: Smooth. Very smooth. Fine. I’m free Thursday night. But only if you promise not to bring any stickers.

Lando : Can’t promise that. Might be my signature move.

Thursday night in Monaco felt less like a date and more like something out of a movie. Warm golden streetlights cast long reflections over the marina, and the soft hum of distant music floated from open terraces. Y/N checked her phone for the fourth time, then shook her head and laughed at herself.

This is ridiculous, she thought. It’s just dinner.

But it wasn’t just dinner. It was a date. With Lando Norris. Race winner. Flirtatious chaos incarnate.

She was halfway through mentally rehearsing excuses just in case, when she spotted him.

He was already there, waiting outside the restaurant, dressed in a crisp white shirt and navy trousers, hands tucked into his pockets, curls slightly more tamed than usual.

And smiling at her like he wasn’t used to waiting, but would wait hours if she asked.

“Wow,” he said as she approached. “You’re… georgous. Really elegant tonight.”

She smirked. “You clean up okay too. No McLaren cap tonigh ?”

“I brought one,” he teased, patting his chest. “Emergency use only.,if a kid get lost again”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Let’s eat before you start handing them out.”

They were seated on a quiet terrace overlooking the water, the clink of glasses and the murmur of other diners providing just enough cover for nerves.

“So,” she began, folding her napkin, “when you’re not rescuing lost children and stealing phone numbers, how's is tour life like?”

Lando laughed. “Oh, just some light go-karting. On an international scale. No big deal.”

“I think I’ve heard of it,” she said dryly.

After a beat, he asked, “So what made you want to wrangle children for a living? Seems like you could do something far less… chaotic.”

She tilted her head. “Chaos is kind of my thing. Teaching’s exhausting, yeah, but it’s also... deeply rewarding. I love the curiosity, the little victories. And I love showing them something new. After the race, I had ten of them who wanted to do study downforce and tire compounds. Do you know how rare that is in a classroom?”

“Honestly?” he grinned. “Sounds like you’re raising the next generation of engineers.”

“I hope so. Or drivers. Or… I don’t know. Curious, kind humans.”

He watched her for a long second, then said, “You’re good at it, aren’t you?”

“I try,” she said, a little surprised by his tone.

“You are,” he said. “I saw how Sara looked at you. That wasn’t fear or just respect. She trusted you. And that doesn’t happen by accident.”

She felt her cheeks flush. “Careful, Norris. You’re starting to sound like a grown-up.”

He laughed, tilting his head. “Don’t get used to it. I’m usually a menace.”

“I figured,” she said. “Before I first met you, I honestly thought you were just some reckless, childish guy with too much confidence and not enough sense. I get enough of that during class.”

Lando clutched his chest, mock wounded. “Ouch. Harsh.”

“But fair,” she added.

He chuckled. “Okay, fine. You’re not wrong. I am childish sometimes. I like dumb jokes, fast things, and annoying my friends.” He paused, looking at her more seriously. “But tonight? I’m just trying to impress you.”

That stunned her into silence for a second.

She recovered with a soft smile. “Well. Consider me… mildly impressed.”

He grinned, but then she shifted the conversation again.

“You were so good with Sara. Not a lot of people know how to talk to kids. How are you so good at it?”

Something changed in his expression. He leaned back a little, fingers tapping lightly against his glass.

“I think…” he began slowly, “I think I just remember being that kid. The one who was obsessed with cars. Who lived and breathed racing. Who dreamt so big it didn’t even make sense. And if one of the drivers I admired had ever looked at me, really seen me and said something kind or just… paid attention? That would’ve meant everything.”

Y/N stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“So I try to be that guy now,” he said. “The one who makes space for those kids. Especially the little ones who look lost or overwhelmed. I don’t always get it right. But I try.”

She stared at him, moved. “That’s… honestly kind of beautiful.”

He shrugged, like brushing it off made it less vulnerable. “I mean, don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she whispered.

Their eyes met. Something shifted. The conversation slowed, deepened, turned into a soft current pulling them closer.

“So,” he said after a moment, playfully nudging her foot under the table, “how are we doing so far? Am I winning this date?”

She tilted her head, smirking. “You’ve avoided all major red flags. No chewing with your mouth open. No sticker bribes. A surprising amount of introspection.”

He grinned. “I’m saving the chewing-with-mouth-open for date three.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Date three? Already making plans?”

“Just saying,” he said, leaning closer, his voice a little lower, “if tonight ends with a yes, I’m definitely asking you out again.”

“And what makes you so confident I’ll say yes?”

“Because,” he murmured, eyes warm, “you’re smiling like you already have.”

She stared at him, this sweet, clever, chaotic, unexpectedly deep man and realized… he was right.

“Maybe I am,” she said quietly.

The restaurant’s terrace had long since emptied, the soft clink of cutlery replaced by the hush of late-night Monaco. Lando offered to walk her home before she even had to ask.

They stepped out onto the cobbled street, the glow from storefronts casting gentle halos on the sidewalk.

“So,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself more out of habit than chill, “do you always go full gentleman after a race win?”

Lando glanced sideways at her, hands tucked casually in his pockets. “Nope. This is strictly VIP treatment.”

“Oh? And what exactly did I do to earn such an upgrade?”

He grinned. “Didn’t tackle me when you found out I was famous. That alone deserves flowers.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I had a kid to chase. Didn’t have time for fangirling.”

“Exactly. You’re terrifyingly efficient. That’s very attractive.”

She smile and the space between them grow thiner, their hands brushing here and there.

They fell into step again, their pace unhurried, as if the night had conspired to slow down just for them.

Her apartment wasn’t far and when they reached her building’s steps, she turned to face him, one foot on the bottom stair.

“Well,” she said softly. “This is me.”

“I figured,” he said, glancing up toward the window with a small, almost boyish smile.

They stood there a moment, the silence between them full but not awkward. A good silence. A “neither of us wants to end this” kind of silence.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at her. “So… I had fun tonight.”

“Me too,” she said, heart ticking faster now that it was just the two of them, the city dim behind them.

“You’re not what I expected,” he added, voice quieter now. “You’re smarter. Sharper. And a lot harder to impress.”

She tilted her head. “Is that a challenge?”

His smile was crooked. “Maybe.”

She took a step down, so they were on the same level now, barely inches apart.

“You’re not what I expected either,” she admitted. “I thought you’d be all ego and reckless charm.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “To be fair, that is most of my personality.”

She chuckled. “But tonight you were kind. Thoughtful. Gentle.”

His expression softened, like she’d touched something just under the surface.

“I told you,” he said. “I was trying to impress you.”

“You did,” she said quietly. “You really did.”

The air between them changed, warmer, slower, like the universe had just given them a moment to breathe.

Lando leaned forward slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would it be crazy if I kissed you right now?”

She blinked, heart now firmly lodged somewhere in her throat. “It might be.”

“But would it be wrong?”

Her answer came in the form of her hand reaching up to lightly touch his chest, steady, quiet confirmation.

He didn’t rush. He leaned in slow, his hand brushing gently along her jaw like he was still waiting for a sign to stop.

And when their lips finally met, soft, certain, and warm, the world around them faded entirely.

It wasn’t fireworks or a movie crescendo. It was better.

It was real.

He pulled back first, just slightly, lips still close, breath warm against her skin.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the paddock,” he murmured.

She smiled, eyes still closed for half a second longer. “And you did good not kissing me in front of one of my student.”

“Noted,” he said. “But I can’t promise anything.”

She laughed, then stepped back, just enough to let the space settle.

“Goodnight, Lando.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He waited until she slipped inside the building, still wearing that small, dreamy smile, then turned, hands in his pockets again, and walked into the Monaco night like the happiest man alive.

A month had passed since that night on the cobbled street outside her apartment, the night he’d kissed her like she was something fragile and electric all at once.

Since then, Lando and Y/N had slipped into something almost like a relationship. Late-night texts turned into coffee the next morning. Long FaceTime calls after his flights blurred into afternoons spent wrapped up on her couch, his head on her lap, her fingers brushing absentmindedly through his curls as they talked about things he didn’t usually let people hear.

He liked this quiet life with her. The slowness. The steadiness.

And though they hadn’t labeled anything, he was sure of what it was becoming.

He was falling for her.

Every time she laughed, every time she told a story about one of her kids with that glowing kind of fondness in her voice, he fell a little harder. It terrified him, in the best way.

Still, doubt crept in around the edges.

Would she really want him? The guy who lived out of suitcases, who flew to different time zones like it was just another grocery run? The one with microphones shoved in his face, rumors written in headlines, and fans who treated privacy like a joke?

Would she want to build something real with him, when her whole life was rooted in structure, patience, and carefully timed snack breaks?

Maybe.

And maybe not.

But today, he was going to find out.

He stood outside the school gate in Monaco, holding a slightly lopsided bouquet of tulips and daisies, the kind that looked somehow perfect for her. No reason, just because. Because she deserved flowers. Because he needed a little courage.

The plan had been simple: she’d told him she was free after class, and he offered to pick her up. But as the bell rang and parents trickled in, she still hadn’t appeared.

Inside, something colorful caught his eye through the half-open door to her classroom.

Ten kids remained.

Not in detention, in full, chaotic, unfiltered enthusiasm. They were gathered around her like she was a celebrity and a saint all at once, waving their drawings in her face with joyful urgency.

“Miss Y/N! Look! I drew your car with rocket boosters!”

“Miss, I made you getting married, look, I draw the dress!”

“I drew a giraffe. I like giraffes.”

Y/N knelt between them, laughing, holding each drawing like it was a museum piece.

“Oh wow, Maxime, that’s a very powerful rocket car. I’m not sure if it’s road-legal, but the shading is amazing.”

“Anna, this… is deeply concerning, but also? Very creative.”

“And Baptiste,” she smiled, holding up the giraffe. “Honestly? That’s the best one of the bunch.”

Lando leaned on the doorframe, still unseen, his heart punching hard against his ribs.

God, she was good at this.

He caught sight of Lara, the little girl from the paddock, now missing a front tooth and holding a drawing of what looked like a very abstract race car.

He smiled.

One day, he’d have to thank her properly.

Then one of the kids spotted him.

“MISS Y/N,” a small voice squealed. “LOOK! HE’S HERE! YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HERE!”

Y/N froze. All heads turned.

Lando straightened from the doorframe, holding the flowers like they might shield him from a stampede.

And it was a stampede.

“Oh my gosh, it’s the papaya driver!”

“Lando! Lando, do you drive to school?”

“Are you rich? How fast can you go? Do you have a yacht?!”

“Why are you here?”

“Can you sign my drawing?”

Amid the chaos, Y/N stood slowly, face bright red, one hand rising instinctively to her temple like she was bracing for impact.

She looked at Lando across the sea of tiny bodies.

He didn’t say anything. He just smiled.

And held out the flowers to her.

Her breath caught.

She took a step, then another, until she reached him. Her fingers closed around the stems.

“Hi,” she said, quiet and slightly breathless.

“Hi,” he replied, grinning like a complete idiot. “These are for you.”

She glanced down at them, then up again, some soft understanding blooming in her expression.

“Thanks,” she said. “They’re… really nice.”

One of the bolder kids shrieked, “IS HE YOUR BOYFRIEND OR WHAT?”

Silence fell.

Y/N looked at Lando.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Well,” he said, not loud enough for all ten kids to hear but she did, his eyes never left hers, “I’d like to be.”

She blinked, startled by the clarity of it.

He stepped closer, speaking now just for her.

“I know I travel a lot. I know my life’s a mess. But when I’m not racing, I want to be here. With you. Because this? Us? It’s the only thing lately that feels like home.”

Her eyes softened. A slow, unshakable smile curved her lips.

“Well,” she said, voice warm and amused. “I guess you are now, my boyfriend I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Behind them, the kids erupted.

“I KNEW IT!”

“I told you she liked him!”

“Wait, are they gonna kiss now?”

“EW, GROSS!”

Y/N turned, laughing. “Alright, okay, okay! Everyone, backpacks on, we’re leaving! If you behave, maybe he’ll sign your drawing next time!”

The kids squealed in delight.

Lando leaned in as she gently ushered them out the door. “Was that a threat or a promise?”

She turned to him, eyes glittering. “You’ll find out.”

And when the last child finally left and the hallway quieted, he looked at her again, still smiling like he couldn’t believe his luck.

She held the flowers a little tighter, leaned in, and kissed him, quick, certain, unmistakably his.

“That,” she whispered, “was definitely a promise.”

And this time, there were no more questions left to ask.

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[forgottenwriter]

Honestly, this is really important. Let me tell you all a little story. This happened many, many, many years ago. Back when I was a little trans baby who didn't even know she was trans yet. I was 16, on the internet, and having a great time. As you did in those far off days, I joined an internet forum - for those of you who don't know what they were, think of it like Twitter back when it was twitter, but also long and also not very much like Twitter!

So anyway, I made a friend and he was a great guy. He was also 16, and the two of us hit it off right away. He was smart and funny, and deeply caring about the world and the people in it.

He was also gay and from the deep south. His parents were less than supportive, but he seemed to not let that get him down. We became fast friends, and over the years, grew pretty close. In retrospect, he had a crush on me, but I was always trans even when I didn't admit it to myself, so that was going nowhere. I could never be what he wanted me to be, so I just didn't approach that route.

As the years went on, my friend started to change. He got cynical, angry at the world. It came from a place of hurt and pain; his parents continued to wound him, he felt as though the world was turning against him. he fought as hard as he could, but it seemed as if even his own people were turning on him.

Of course, the thing that I never said - and I should have, but I was young and anxious and didn't want to lose one of my best friends in the world - is that part of why this all was happening was that he'd internalized what his parents had taught him. He thought he was free of it, but like a seed they'd planted in him, it just waited to flower. It fed on his frustration and anger, and offered him an easy solution.

He didn't have to try to understand. He didn't have to try to look at things from other people's point of view. Other people were just wrong. And he was allowed to speak over and demean them because he was right and that was how the world worked.

Some of the stuff he ended up saying was terrible, and I remember thinking at one point ''This is your parents speaking. You've swapped out the word ''gay'' for ''trans'' but it's the same sentence with the same meaning and the same intent. You've embraced them without even knowing it.''

When I last spoke to him, when I ended our friendship once and for all, he'd convinced himself that democracy was a mistake. That education was a mistake, that the majority of people simply did not deserve to be educated and only enlightened rulers - which naturally, would include him and a few other gay people, but with no mention of any other minorities - deserved full rights.

Tl;dr don't assume that just because you're a minority, it means you're free of bias. If you live in toxicity, if you're surrounded by it, it will cling to you. That's what makes it so dangerous. You can carry it for years and decades without ever knowing and at some point, when you're weakest, when you're tired and angry and sad and want someone to blame? That seed will flower and a few years after that, you'll be one of those very same people who make you feel so sick right now.

That's human nature. That's how it works. None of us are perfect beings who can always be sure we're in the right. Check yourself. introspect your thoughts. Above all else, never assume that you're right just because something feels right. Righteous anger is good and satisfying and addictive because we're evolved to find it that way.

But that doesn't mean it works or makes the situation any better.

Don't lose yourself like my friend did. He was miserable in the end, and I don't think he's going to have a fun life in the future either. Support and love each other, stand up for each other. Be the kind of person you wish existed to stand up for you.

Many lgbt teenagers and young adults growing up on the internet today have socially conservative beliefs that they voice at all times that they got from their conservative parents which they’ve never challenged because they think the life experience of being gay or trans makes them politically progressive

[siriusly-yoongi]

She wants to be saved chapter 21

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

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Pairing: alpha BTS × omega reader

Chapter Warnings: I don't really know what to put for warnings, mentions of self-harm, mentions of sexual assault, scenting, "scenting", reader is held in place unwillingly, there's no sexual content but I don't know what else you call this

Word count: 3896

I really struggle writing filler chapters, I find i have much more motivation and just overall an easier time writing angst and drama.

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YOU

Hoseok calls Namjoon and you can hear how angry he is in his voice. You're not really paying attention though.

After a little while of sitting with Hoseok, Namjoon comes rushing over and upon seeing the state of you Namjoon growls just like Hoseok had.

He pulls you into his arms and cradles your head to his chest. "Where did you go baby? What happened?"

You don't have your phone and you cant bring yourself to speak right now, a broken sob the only response you're able to formulate.

Once you get back to the house, your phone is immediately shoved into your hands and you have 7 alphas looking at you with worry written across their faces.

You sniffle and type out what happened, recounting the events when you first hurt yourself and why you ran. You tell them how you got lost in the woods, how you'd asked that lady for directions. You were honestly quite proud of yourself for talking to someone out in public. You told them how you'd gotten to the beach and taken a break and that guy had approached you. That's where you stopped typing and as your phone read it out, they could tell there was a lot more to the story.

You looked at Jimin, you knew he could get mad easily and you were afraid they'd all get upset, but him specifically. Not necessarily because you thought he would hurt you, by this point you knew he wouldn't. But because angry alphas always trigger you. And you don't know if you can handle any more right now

You move to sit with Yoongi and he pulls you into his lap, kissing the side of your head. Eventually, with enough coaxing, you tell them, in detail, what happened. You tell them about the guy picking you up and using his alpha voice on you. You tell them about the touching and harsh words. You don't go into too much detail about having them actually inside of you, but you explain that it happened. Then you explain the sand. You can still feel the sand inside of you. You explained how to cried and how Hoseok found you and they knew what happened from there.

Youve never seen them look or smell so angry before.

"Come here." Namjoon's voice is soft as he pulls you into his chest, taking you from Yoongi. But you can tell he's angry, seething.

You tuck your face into his neck, letting him hold you. He runs his chin over the top of your head, trying to cover up the other alphas' scents. You feel dirty.

"Do you want to take a shower or a bath? I think you should, it'll help with the sand and it'll wash some of their scents off." Jin suggests. He already knows you'll say no to going to police so he doesn't push for it, even though you know he wants to. Its written all over his face.

You nod, for once you do actually want to. You're willing to risk the water getting in your face. But you're so tired. You obviously didn't sleep last night and you're not sure you can hold yourself up long enough to properly wash yourself. But you really don't want anyone in there. The thought of any of them seeing you without clothes makes bile rise in your throat. You didn't care much before, but now the idea was mortifying.

You end up taking a shower by yourself, the water turned as hot as you can handle, then slightly hotter. You've gotten better with water touching your face, little splashes don't send you spiraling anymore. However if you were to put your face under the sprayer it would make you panic.

You lie on the shower floor and cry, your head away from the spray of water. The water hits your stomach as you lay there, burning your skin. The sting makes you feel a little cleaner. Like it's somehow sterilizing your body from what they did to it.

You don't know how long you lay there but it must be a while because there's a knock on the door. "Kitten?" The door cracks open and you look over to see Yoongi.

He glances at you and its not as mortifying as you thought it would be. Its just Yoongi, you're okay, you remind yourself

You look up at him with teary eyes, making no moves to get up. You're tired. So tired.

He closes the door behind him and sits down on the floor outside of the shower, he doesn't stare at you, he keeps his eyes either on your face or on the floor in front of him.

"You've been in here for an hour jagi." He looks at you with a worried look on his face. You sigh and sit up, reaching up to turn off the water.

You put your arms out to him like a toddler would to their parents, you're too tired to look after yourself right now. You're pretty sure if you stand up you'll collapse.

Yoongi lifts you up and wraps you in a towel. He's cautious when touching you, like he's afraid it'll set you off if he touches the wrong place.

He helps you get dressed and you're practically asleep on his shoulder by this point. He carried you straight down into the den and lays down with you still tucked against him. You feel someone wrap around you from behind, you can tell its Namjoon by his scent.

You sleep for a few hours, waking up around 3pm. You're still tired but you're not exhausted at least.

You feel hollow and heavy, and everything hurts.

The rest of the day you spent curled up in the den, mostly sleeping or getting scented by Yoongi and Namjoon as they try and cover up the other alphas' scents. They were faint by now after your shower, but they weren't gone completely.

Unfortunately the next morning was a Monday so everyone had to go into work at some point. Yoongi went into the studio today but Jungkook didn't have anyone to work with today so he's home with you.

You're out laying in your shed. The tv is on but you're just staring up at the ceiling. You don't find anything interesting.

Jungkook knocks then lets himself in. "Do you wanna go in the pool?" He questions.

Its s hot day, but you shake your head. You want Yoongi and Namjoon.

Jungkook slowly sits down next to you, leaving some space between the two of you. He doesn't say anything else, his eyes focused on the tv.

You notice him slowly inching closer to you, you don't know if he's doing it on purpose or if it's subconscious. The bond has been making you restless lately, urging you to touch your mates. You wonder if he feels the same way.

Eventually he ends up right next to you, your shoulders and legs pressed together as you lean back against the pillows.

You find it lifts that heaviness in your limbs, just a little. He slowly starts to pull you closer until you're on his lap, your shoulder against his chest as you sit sideways against him.

Lilo and Stitch plays on the tv and you find yourself sucked into the movie. Youve never seen it before, Jungkook however was mumbling some of the lines along with the characters.

About halfway through the movie, you start rubbing your chin over his chest. Idly at first, not really realizing you're doing it as you focus on the movie.

He doesn't smell enough like you. Your face scrunches up, showing your dissatisfaction with that. You rub your chin and cheek over his chest and shoulders with a bit more force, forgetting about the movie.

You pull back a little and inhale deeply, still not satisfied the strength of your scent on him.

He doesn't say anything, and you miss the affectionate gaze that's set on you as you pout.

You end up licking over his scent glands, pulling out his scent while depositing yours through your saliva.

Somehow, it ends up with open-mouthed kisses being peppered all over his neck and along his jaw. You're lost in your own little world, not noticing the heat in his face or the way he's staring to squirm as he struggles to hold still.

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly, but gently thrown onto your back, Jungkook's body coming to rest on top of yours, his arms on either side of you as he sits on just above your hips.

The light reflects off of the saliva still on his neck and face, making you giggle to yourself.

You should be scared after what happened yesterday, but for some reason you're not. It's Jungkook, your Kookie. He won't hurt you.

You've never been this close to him before, but you find yourself more relaxed than you thought you'd be. His big Boba eyes and bunny smile put you at ease.

He leans forward and mirrors your actions, running his tongue over your neck and down your jaw. He's hesitant at first, trying to gauge your reaction. You know he'd stop if you told him to. He'd be off of you in a second if you showed any sign of resistance. You haven't been close with him, but you know him enough to know he's afraid of hurting his mates in any way shape or form.

If he hurts someone's feelings even, the youngest alpha gets teary-eyed and apologizes profusely. Even though he's the youngest, you suspect he's stronger than half of the pack. He works out often and he's quite big. He's worried about accidentally hurting you; you've overheard him talking about it before. You trust him enough to let him do this.

When he senses no resistance from you, he switches to pressing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, eventually they turn sloppy and wet, leaving his saliva all over you like you'd done to him. He nips at your scent gland and you bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. You don't want to embarrass yourself by making noise. He's just scenting you, you tell yourself. Knowing full well by the look in his eyes it's much deeper than that to him. You remain in denial.

He ends up sucking on your skin just under your jaw, you can tell it'll leave a mark and you have a feeling that's exactly what he's trying to do.

The "scenting" continues for quite some time. Switching between who's "scenting" who. The two of you never actually end up kissing. Your lips never touch. It makes you laugh a little as you lie on Jungkook's chest. You pull out your phone to take a picture, gasping when you see your neck. You have deep purple marks all over your skin. You take the picture, making sure both your and his neck are visible. You'd left a few marks of your own that you are quite proud of. You don't send it to the group chat. You thought about it, but you're not bold enough for that. Not yet anyway.

Can we go to the store?

You have your phone speak for you, not feeling like trying to speak right now. Using your voice took a lot of effort, a lot of energy. You didn't want to ruin your good mood by trying to force words out.

Jungkook looks down at you for a few seconds before he shrugs. "Yeah, sure. I don't see why not."

He doesn't ask you what for and you don't tell him. He drives you both to the store and you get out. He takes your hand in his and you walk into the store.

You let go of his hand and run to the aisle that has beauty products. You hear him running behind you. You pick up a couple of boxes of hair dye. A bright, firetruck red. You hold them up to Jungkook and he just shakes his head, smiling.

"Oh, Namjoon is gonna kill me." He laughs. "First I mark you all up, then I let you dye your hair. I'm dead."

Jungkook ends up getting some bleach, deciding he wants to go blond.

Once you get back home you run to the bathroom. "Hold on, hold on. You gotta put on an old shirt first."

You end up in one of Jungkook's shirts with no pants on. You didn't wanna risk ruining any of your shorts so you'll be dying your hair in a large shirt and your underwear.

Jungkook puts the bleach in his hair first, then he has you stand in front of the mirror while he sections your hair out and puts the bleach into yours. It takes a lot longer than his did. You have long, thick hair.

You let it process, then he rinses his hair first. He rinses yours next, making sure not to get any water in your face.

He blow dries your hair then applies the red. It takes 2 bottles of dye since you have so much hair. He clips it up to let it sit while he uses some rubbing alcohol to get the dye off your skin in a few places.

He blow dries his own hair and you squeal. You love it.

"What do you think?" He asks with a big smile. You don't have your phone so you opt instead to grab his face and smash your lips into his. You pull away before he has a chance to kiss you back, but you think he gets the message.

He looks at you with a big grin.

Once your hair is done, rinsed, and blow dried, you look in the mirror and squeal. You're so excited.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

You and Jungkook stay hidden away in your shed until around 5:45, when you know everyone will have gotten home. You'd gone back to your "scenting", this time with way more kissing. Okay, it was mostly you two making out.

Jungkook walks in first, you stay hidden behind him.

Jimin notices first and chokes on his drink. Probably due to the marks on Jungkook's neck, not the hair color change.

Everyone looks over at Jimin and you step out from behind Jungkook. Jimin's eyes go even wider.

"It was her idea! She started it! Both things!" Jungkook throws you under the bus and you slap his chest with the back of your hand, playfully glaring at him.

Everyone looks over at you and they all have varying looks of surprise.

"I got to watch her walk around in my shirt and her underwear for 2 hours while I did her hair, and I got rewarded with kisses. I had a wonderful day! How are you guys on this lovely day!?" Jungkook has a huge grin on his face, looking a little smug. He's rubbing it in their faces, and by the soft grumbles he gets from all the alphas, you can tell they're jealous.

You run over to Yoongi, colliding with his chest. He quickly wraps his arms around you, glaring at Jungkook. You know its all playful, no one smells upset or angry. Just a little bit of jealousy.

You're still in one of Jungkook's shirts, a different, clean one though. Not the one you wore when you dyed your hair. And you have shorts on now as well. Pajama shorts.

Namjoon walks over and gently grabs your face, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at the marks on your neck. You struggle not to smile as you can practically feel the jealousy. They may be pack, but they still get jealous from time to time.

You're unaware that underneath the jealousy, they're all extremely proud of you for getting closer to one of them.

He runs his fingers over the marks and you whine when he presses on a few of them, smirking at you when you pout. He lets go of your face and steps back. "You smell so much like Jungkook I can barely smell your own scent." He grumbles as he plops down on the couch.

You just giggle and snuggle into Yoongi's chest.

After dinner, Jin tackles Jungkook and forces him to cuddle so he can breathe in your scent that's still all over Jungkook.

Namjoon takes to scenting the other side of your neck. Jungkook mainly stuck to the one side, and you wont let Namjoon scent the side Jungkook did.

Namjoon repeats the actions of Jungkook for the most part. Licking and kissing up the side of your neck and your scent glands. He's a lot more gentle than Jungkook was, taking his time without the desperate hunger that Jungkook had.

He leaves your face and jaw alone too. He bites down on your scent gland, not enough to break skin and mark you, but hard enough to make you squirm and leave an imprint for a few days. "One of these days baby, were gonna have to mark you permanently, hm?"

His voice is lower and quieter than you're used to hearing and it makes you shudder. He continues to mark up the side of your neck, he's softer than Jungkook sure, but he goes over the same areas for longer periods of time, leaving darker, bigger marks behind. He shifts your position a little bit, leaving you feeling some type of way.

He has your back pulled flush against his chest, one arm down across your stomach, his hand holding both your wrists in place against your stomach. His other arm is across your chest and shoulders. He's effectively pinning you in place.

You take a few shaky breaths, trying to remind yourself it's just Namjoon. That you're okay and you're safe. But images of being held down on the beach flash through your mind. You try and squirm to get free but you can't and panic squeezes in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your scent has started to turn burnt, it's not super strong but it's definitely there. Tears roll down your cheeks, you can't get away.

Namjoon has long since stopped with the scenting, now he just has his face tucked into your neck. He's speaking to you but you're too panicked to understand what's being said.

Why won't he let go? He can clearly tell you're uncomfortable. You look over at the rest of the pack for help but no one moves to help free you. This makes you panic more. What's he gonna do to you? Did you make a mistake in trusting him? Oh god, is he gonna turn out like your ex?

A broken sob leaves your lips and his grip on you tightens instead of letting go. He isn't hurting you, the position is actually quite comfortable if you're honest. But the feeling of being held down on the sand won't go away. Is he mad that for what you did with Jungkook? Is that why he's doing this?

"Baby, do you trust me?" You hear it but you don't really process the words. You continue to thrash and squirm, getting yourself all worked up and upset.

He repeats himself, "Babygirl, listen. Do you trust me?" His voice is perfectly calm and quiet, gentle, like you're a frightened animal.

You choke on a sob, but nod slowly. You do trust him. You do.

"Good, that's good baby, I'm glad. You trust that you're safe with me right?" You nod again. You vaguely register what he's trying to do.

He's trying to get you to relax in his hold instead of letting you go. He wants you to face this instead of freaking out every time you cant move freely. He isn't going to harm you. You're not in danger. He's trying to help you. You just don't like the way he's doing it.

He continues to talk softly to you, pressing light kisses to the side of your neck once you start to calm down enough.

"Good girl. That's a good girl." He praises softly once you relax against him.

It only took half an hour...

You're still a little bit on edge. But you're safe. You know you're safe. It's just Namjoon. No one else.

He goes back to kissing and scenting your skin, holding you in place in that same position. You're still squirming, but not because you're trying to get away anymore.

Jungkook comes over and pushes your legs apart gently, watching your face the entire time. Like earlier, you trust him. You trust Namjoon too. Neither of them would force you to do something...unless it's for your own good anyway.

Jungkook cautiously nips at the scent gland on your inner thigh and you instinctively try and pull away. He glances back up at you, but finds no indication that you want him to stop. You watch him intently as he repeats his earlier actions on your neck on your thighs. The scent of the other alphas is still faintly there and you're actually glad he's covering it up with his scent instead.

With both alphas scenting you and kissing your skin at the same time you're unable to keep still. Whining softly as you squirm. You don't allow yourself to make any noise beyond that.

You watch as Jin pins Jimin in a similar position to what you're in, but he doesn't hold Jimin's hands down. Jimin actually keeps them down himself, like he'd been taught to do so or something like that.

Jin practically mirrors Namjoon's actions onto Jimin and Taehyung latches onto his other side, occasionally pulling away from his neck to press kisses to his lips.

Hoseok tries with Yoongi. He really tries. But Yoongi pushes him off. You've heard time and time again that Yoongi really isn't the touchy type. That you're the exception. Of course, he lets his pack hold him and scent him from time to time, but he has to be in the mood for it. And right now, he did not seem to be in the mood for it.

Hoseok slumps back, looking defeated. If there's one thing you've noticed about Hoseok, it's that he loves touch.

You don't want him to feel left out. It's making you sad to see him sad. You know that you don't have the best relationship with him, that he's still been rather hostile toward you, but you chirp at him anyway, trying to get his attention.

He looks up at the sound and smiles sadly. You tilt your head toward Namjoon showing the opposite side of your neck to Hoseok. Jungkook's scent is all over your thighs, it's okay if it's covered up on your neck you decide.

Hoseok looks at you, completely shocked. Yoongi has a similar shocked expression on his face. Hoseok slowly comes over and wraps his arms around both you and Namjoon.

Hoseok doesn't kiss or lick at your skin; instead, he rubs his cheek and chin over your neck and shoulders, just snuggling up to you. He's hesitant at first. And you can see Yoongi ready to pull him away if he needs to.

You just hope you aren't making a mistake by letting him do this. Hopefully, this is the first step in you two getting along.

[dinerdweller]

this is gonna be a long one but I have a hell of an idea for biker! johnny x school friend! reader🙏

so essentially, pony and reader are like really close, sorta like how he and Johnny are in the book. They’re always hanging out, but she’s never met the gang. So one might, he brings her down to the bar to introduce them to the name they’ve heard so much about. They get to know one another and all that jazz, but the one person who can’t seem to stop thinking of her is Johnny. Inevitably, they start hanging out, blah blah blah, they start falling for each other, but pony notices. And he gets pissed. He tells Johnny to “quit stealin’ his best friend,” so Johnny lays off, despite having been one shared glance away from kissing her. But reader notices the fact he keeps ignoring her. The fact he doesn’t come to her place when his parents are fighting. The fact he doesn’t walk her to school anymore. It tears her to shreds — and Pony once again notices. He also notices Johnny’s now cold and quiet. Too quiet. So then he sets them up or something and they get to be cute and kiss and be all silly 😋

(holy fuckin shit this is long 😖🥀💔)

Hello, I Love You

Johnny Cade x school friend! reader

notes: been in a slump after exams tbh, hope this isn't terrible >.<

wc: 1.4k cw: none I think, slight mentions of smoking & drinking ig

The world was ending. Or, at least, that's what it felt like to Pony. He had messed up, can you blame him? He just wanted to keep his friends, not lose them to each other.

It wasn't like Ponyboy had many friends at school; they all cowered away from his greasy hair and biker jacket, which is why meeting you was such a blessing. You didn't care who his friends were or what he got up to outside of school, you didn't even care about how he dressed. You never judged the clothes that hung loosely on him or the shoes he always wore with multiple holes in them, you never judged the amount he smoked or the language he used, you didn't even mind that he was the youngest boy in school. You were a blessing to him.

That's why he finally took the plunge into inviting you to meet his friends. His greasy, slimy, no-good biker friends who swore like sailors and fought like their lives depended on it. And you were looking forward to it. It was always hard work trying to find out about them through Ponyboy, he was never proud of how they acted and didn't feel the need to answer all your questions. This was a big deal.

The smoke filled your lungs as soon as you stepped into the bar. Not the kind you were used to, it was cheap smoke that sent you into a cough which you were trying to be subtle with. Ponyboy led you through the curious, perverted eyes of men who looked like they should be back home with their wives and kids (who probably weren't much younger than you) but instead spent their time drinking and riding.

You both approached a table crowded with seats, which were filled with loud boys and beer bottles that the bar girls hadn't bothered to take away yet, cluttering the small surface. Ponyboy obnoxiously cleared his throat to grab their attention; it worked, and suddenly an abundance of eyes were on you.

"Hey guys, this is my friend-" Ponyboy began before being interrupted by multiple of his friends at once.

"You have other friends? Not cool man."

"Your friend is a chick? This kid pulls more than me, it ain't fair."

"So, how did you find the money to get her to hang around you?"

"Look at how much he's grown, feel like a proud mother right now."

"Stop it, you know Pony's friend was a girl so stop teasin' him. Y'all are givin' me a headache." The oldest one finally speaks, louder than the others. They shut up, but still quietly chuckle to themselves. Only one of them had stayed quiet this whole time, just smirking at the other's words, he was the one who took your interest. He was different; he was not loud or shy, just silent, he wasn't nursing a drink or rushing through his pack of cigarettes as quickly as others and he certainly didn't look as well groomed as the others. Maybe that's what drew you to him. His tousled, yet still greased, hair, his bruised hands and swollen eye, his worn denim jacket and the shirt that looked ever so slightly big on his slim frame. It hit you, hard; the realisation that he hadn't even said a word and yet you were infatuated with him.

You hadn't even realised that Pony was nearly done with introductions.

"And this is Johnny Cade." He smiled, a tiny smile but one that made your heart flutter. One of them, Sodapop, you think, pulled up a chair between him and Johnny for you. You were shoulder to shoulder at this point, he was warm but was against the idea of taking his jacket off when you suggested. He must be one of those who believe in never taking off their colours. That's when the conversations started, they were so natural with him, never feeling pressured to continue or shamed for taking a break, he was so naturally caring towards you which didn't help with your fast-growing crush.

It was about an hour later when you started the walk home, a certain greaser by your side. He must've enjoyed talking to you as much as you did him; the offer of the company was unexpected and it seemed it was to him too, he blurted it out the second you stood up. Not that you minded either, his voice was soothing and his presence even more so.

That's how it all started.

It became routine to hear three taps on your window nearly every night, Johnny being battered and seeking some time of shelter. He even started showing up to school more often, walking you every day even if he didn't make it past the front gates. The time you two spent together became more and more, no one batted an eye when you would walk into the bar anymore because Johnny would be by your side. But Ponyboy noticed too.

And he didn't like it.

It faded out. No, it suddenly ended, all of it. He didn't come to your house anymore, instead making peace with the sludgy floor at the lot and his jacket wrapped tightly around him. You were late to school, waiting for him as long as you could until your father forcefully told you to get out and get to class, he didn't go to school that day, or since. The only reason you knew he was even alive was because of Ponyboy, and when you visited the bar after that first day.

Everything was the same, kind of. Ponyboy didn't seem happy to be bringing you, but he hadn't been in a good mood for a while. As you approached, Johnny didn't even look up, he didn't grab you a chair or offer you a drink. Something was weird.

"Hi Johnny, you okay?" You ask, standing awkwardly next to him. 

"Mhm." He moved his eyes around the room, anywhere but you. It was painful and everyone could feel it. You tried to talk to him and offered to go for a walk only to be met with short, dry answers. It wasn't long before you found a cue to leave.

It was killing not only you but Johnny too. His heart silently shattered at his behaviour, but he just wanted to do what was best for Ponyboy.

It was only the day before all of this that Pony had even told Johnny about how he was feeling. It all just came out in one angry burst after hearing all day from you about Johnny just to then have Johnny do the same.

"Stop it, man! Quit stealin' my best friend, go find a girl on your own." He fumes, puffing on his cigarette to try to calm down. That's why Johnny backed off, not wanting to upset Ponyboy more than he already had.

It took a few days for the selfish joy to wear off of Pony for him to see how much it impacted you both. At lunch you barely talked anymore, pushing around the food on your plate before just putting it in the bin. And Johnny crawled back inside of himself, just like how he acts when he is vulnerable; it was the same way he acted after those socs jumped him a couple of months ago. When Pony noticed this, he felt terrible.

He really fucked up this time, guilt was eating at him. That's why he decided to get over himself and get you two reunited.You weren't very happy at his begging for you to come to the bar with him.

"Look, Ponyboy. I don't think this is a good idea-"

"No, it is! You won't have to go inside I just wanna pick something up." He was practically dragging you along before coming to a stop, leaving you outside while he ran in. It was only a minute or two later when he came back outside, Johnny Cade behind him.

"Hey," Johnny says, looking down at his feet. Ponyboy quietly slips back inside, not that either of you noticed.

"Hi."

"Look, I really am sorry. Ponyboy was sayin' I was taking you from him and I didn't want to get in his way. I'm barely in school, he needs someone to sit with." Nerves were vibrating off him as he spoke, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face.

"I should've guessed. I wish you just told me, I was worried sick I messed up." You admit, smiling softly at him.

"No, you definitely didn't."

"So, we're okay?" You ask, stepping closer to him.

"More than okay." The blush was pigmented on both of your cheeks and he was smiling too now. That's when he came towards you and leaned in.

[tessa-liam]

W.I.P. Wednesday

Marabelle Series

Chapter 20 - 'Ascension'

"You know?!" Sophie was open-mouthed in utter disbelief as she paced around the fountain. She didn't know whether to be mad at him or... really appreciative of his insight. "Did my aunt really call you to tell you about it?!"

"Yes," Maxwell looked guilty as charged and quickly added. "But don't blame Mom. She didn't really have any other options, especially when my father started freaking out. Mom just wanted me to help you, to calm you down, and well... this is kinda what I do best."

She bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed with a strange sense of gratitude. He had come through for her when she most needed a friend, just as he had always done. How had she never seen it before? Uncle’s actions were insufferable. She suddenly felt like an idiot.

"God, you're too good to be true," she huffed in annoyance and jabbed him lightly on the shoulder.

He grinned back at her, looking uncharacteristically sheepish and shook his head, shrugging it off.

"Trust me," he sighed. "I know. Mom told me what you said to my father. I... have a lot of complicated feelings about what he has done," he trailed off with a wave of his hands. "You'll hear about them sometime."

Sophie looked up at him curiously. "About your dad? Are these secrets known at court? Your mom was all for you - supportive...'"

Smoke and Mirrors Series

Chapter 15 - 'Catch and Release'

The cell was silent.

Outside, distant footsteps come and go.

Riley is curled in the corner, her face pale, but her eyes fierce. Her wrists are bleeding where the restraints cut into her skin—yet the metal is now visibly worn.

Pain is temporary. Focus is everything.

She shifts position, pushing the sharp edge of the stone harder against the weakened metal clasp. A snap. She freezes.

Then—

CLINK.

One wrist is free.

Breathless, Riley focused...

'Come on... come on...'

She worked on the second cuff with trembling fingers. Another snap—both hands free. She exhaled shakily, trying not to cry in relief.

Riley stood, wobbling slightly, the blood rushing back into her limbs. She crossed to the tray near the door, and broke off a piece of metal from its bent corner—makeshift weapon.

The hallway beyond her cell is dim. She studied the lock. Standard. She grabbed the empty tin cup, leans close to the bars, and began to tap it in a rhythmic pattern.

'They have to be listening.'

Counting. Predictable patrols…

Sure enough, footsteps approached. A guard, bored, holding a flashlight. He peered in.

"You’re awake. Cute. Thought you’d sleep through your own ransom."

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, clearly overconfident.

Turning the Page Series

Chapter 18 - 'To Have and To Hold'

Footsteps approached, light but familiar.

“I thought I’d find you hiding out here,” Olivia said softly, her lilac bridesmaid dress catching the morning light.

Liam turned, smiling with quiet warmth. “I needed a moment. Before everything begins.”

Olivia joined him under the trellis, her gaze sweeping over the distant coastline. “Funny. You used to sneak off to avoid state dinners and speeches. Now you’re sneaking off before marrying the woman you love.”

“I’m not avoiding it,” Liam said quickly. “I just… didn’t expect to feel like this.”

Olivia looked up at him. “Like what?”

“Like I’m standing on the edge of something so big, so final, it’s hard to breathe. Not because I doubt her—God, never that—but because I know this isn’t just a ceremony. It’s the rest of our lives.”

Olivia reached out, gently straightening the collar of his shirt. “You’ve always carried more than your share, Liam.

Duty. History. The crown. But you chose her.

And that means you finally get to have something that’s just yours.”

He studied her face, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do you remember that night in Lythikos? The blizzard? You brought me coffee with cinnamon, and we talked about what kind of king I wanted to be.”

Olivia’s smile grew wistful. “I remember thinking you’d never stop putting everyone else before yourself.”

Liam nodded. “You were right. And yet, here I am… about to put myself first. For once. With Riley.”

Olivia touched his arm. “You’re not choosing yourself instead of Cordonia. You’re choosing someone who strengthens you. Who sees you. That’s not selfish. That’s smart.”

He exhaled, his shoulders easing slightly. “You’ve always known what to say.”

She gave him a mock stern look. “And don’t you forget it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the cicadas hum lazily in the garden around them.

“Liv,” Liam said softly, “thank you. For being there in every version of my life—crown or no crown, chaos, or calm.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replied. “Just promise me you’ll dance with your bride like no one’s watching. Even if Bertrand is counting the steps.”

Liam chuckled, some of the tension finally lifting. “Deal.”

As she turned to head back toward the villa, Liam called after her, voice low but clear.

“Hey, Liv?”

She looked back over her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here today. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

Olivia’s eyes softened. “It wouldn’t feel right to be anywhere else.”

She left him with a wink and the scent of jasmine in the breeze, and Liam stood a moment longer, heart steadier, breath calmer.

The next time he’d stand still would be at the altar.

And this time, he’d be ready.

To be continued…

✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️

@choicesficwriterscreations

✨️Perma-tags: @beau1811 @bascmve01 @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @lovingchoices14 @alj4890 @busywoman @bardic-tales @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @delmissesryanandcassi @selina012 @differenttyphoonwerewolf

✨️Liam x Riley: @ladylamrian @snoopdogcone @jared2612 @queenwalton @rafasgirl23415 @walkerdrakewalker @loreofyore @fadingreveries

✨️Liam x Sophie: @snoopdogcone @jared2612 @kyra75 @chiarakole @waffleseggsbacon @scourge-lover @classylady1234 @thethingsidoforausername @belencha77 @soniamayo

[zealousconnoisseurdinosaur]

To summarize: Shoko sees the signs of Yandere Gojo and tricks him into setting his sights on you

Warning: Mature Content, Threesome F/F/M, Extremely dubious consent, drunk, Shoko slipped in drugs into readers drinks, Drunk&Drugged Reader!, mentioned previous threesome and foursome, explicit smut

Okay but like- imagine that Gojo and Shoko did hook up every now and then? But Shoko notices that Gojo is getting attached and she wants nothing to do with his clan nonsense and really just wanted a good fuck. She's all for him fucking her against the wall in a janitors closet and likes kinky stuff with him but does not want more from him. So she decides to give him a distraction in the form of you-

You, who is a mediocre sorcerer at best. You, who's easily a bombshell but too on the shy side to approach any guy. You, who is a virgin and Shoko just knows that Gojo would love to be the one to teach you everything about sex. So decides to make it happen. How?

A threesome, of course

You all go clubbing and Shoko makes it a point to get you drunk. Shoko dances with you, grinding against you on the dance floor, her hands in your hair, your chests pressed together. She knows Gojo is watching and can pick up on what will happen tonight.

He thinks it's the love of his life being kinky. He doesn't realize it's the love of his life trying to get him to lose interest in her.

Shoko drags you to a private room- one that Gojo is 100% paying for. The two of you are kissing on the couch. It starts slow and gentle but then it's desperate and hot and fuck- Shoko needs some relief. They should wait for Gojo but you're too tempting like this- tits basically spilling out of your dress and ready to do whatever the fuck Shoko wants.

It's a whirlwind that Shoko doesn't really recall well later, but the two of you are just about naked. You've got your back on the couch while Shoko is on top of you. Your pussies pressed against each other as you scissor. Shoko moves faster and faster chasing her release. You moan sweetly and suck on her tits, close yourself.

'Shoko right there right there-'

'Fucking I'm cumming I'm cumming'

'Shoko Shoko please-'

The two of you fall apart together, panting as you moan each other's name. Gojo walks in just a few minutes later- finding you two making out post orgasm. The two of you hardly acknowledge him, two caught up in each other's lips- hands groping where they can.

It's when Gojo sits next to them that Shoko remembers her plan and now she's hauling him into a kiss by grabbing his collar. It's messy and dirty, especially since Shoko is sure she went down on you at some point and your taste is still on her lips. But then she's grabbing your hair and has you and Gojo kiss.

In other circumstances, none of this would be happening to you. But the alcohol Shoko has plied you with and the drug she slipped in has you ready for anything as long as it gets rid of the throbbing between your legs. You kiss Gojo back with intensity you didn't even know you were capable of, completely giving in as his hands explore you.

Shoko watches this happen and realizes that for her plan to work- she seriously needs to get you guys out of here and to Gojo's apartment. It takes coaxing but Shoko isn't the least but drunk and drives you guys there. She smirks to herself at the sounds you make as Gojo goes down on you in the backseat. By the time she parks the car in the parking space for a stupidly luxurious apartment complex- you're on your second orgasm from Gojo's tongue, moaning his name as you fondle your tits for him.

Shoko is sure she deserves a thank you in the future. Not only are you getting an absolute stud because of her- he's also filthy rich too. Although, she recalls how possessive Gojo can get and backtracks on that. Oh well, starting tomorrow morning, Gojo would be your problem.

The elevator ride to his apartment is tension filled, Gojo can barely keep his hands off of either of you. He alternates between kissing you and Shoko, pressing each girls against the elevator wall harshly. Shoko doesn't mind- it's going to be her last time getting fucked like this. Might as well enjoy it.

It's when you guys get into his apartment that the real fun starts. Shoko strips herself as she watches Gojo press you into the side of the couch in his bedroom, the two of you kissing heatedly. She takes her clothes off, and coaxes you in to lying on top of her- Shoko's breasts are pressed against your bare back. Gojo takes turns kissing you and Shoko as his fingers alternate between filling you and Shoko up.

'Satoru, do you want to know something about our girl here?'

Gojo's eyes light up at Shoko's question, his ministrations stop and you whine in his hold. Shoko smiles innocently as her hands move forward to fondle your tits in front of Gojo's dark and curious eyes.

'This is her first time.'

That's all it takes for Gojo to just about forget about Shoko. His eyes brightened up in delight, his hands even more eager than before. As exciting as a threesome was- he and Shoko had partaken in them before. Mei Mei and Utahime had served as excellent playmates for a threesome, and there had even been that exciting foursome with twins from Kyoto, but those girls don't have the kind of pull you do. You were a complete blank slate- one he could mould to his liking easily.

Shoko knows it's wrong to offer you up like this to a man like Gojo- knowing that he would completely take over your life. But the choice was between you and her- and Shoko had never been the selfless kind anyways. So she watches as Gojo has his fun, taking your virginity right on top of her. Your whines and moans are music to his ears as he fucks you harder than anyone's first time is supposed to go. But then again, this was why Shoko had drugged you. So you could enjoy yourself too.

'I'm-I'n so close Gojo-'

'Satoru- fuck call me Satoru. Cum all over my cock princess-'

His thrusts grow rougher, causing you and Shoko to shake from the force of them. His balls achingly slap against Shoko's pussy, making her throb with need. But she ignores it in favour of rubbing your clit.

'Shoko no I can't-'

Gojo kisses you while you moan in his mouth, your body completely at the mercy of Gojo and Shoko's hands. You break away from his lips as your orgasm hits you- crying out his name in pleasure as he fucks you through it. Gojo follows soon after, cumming inside you. His hips are vicious in the way he slams them against yours, determined to fill you up.

Shoko blearily recalls how he usually avoided cumming inside, even when they had partaken in that foursome with those twin girls from Kyoto- he'd never let himself cum inside anyone. Not even when he'd been pounding one twin while the other twin sucked and licked his balls with Shoko.

You, on the other hand, are the exception. And Shoko knows it means her plan is working.

The rest of the night is a breeze to work through. Satoru has his fun taking you multiple times and Shoko assists. He has you pressed you against the wall, your back pressed to his chest and had fucks you hard. Shoko focuses on licking your clit, unrelenting even as you cum again.

'Oh oh oh I can't- I can't-'

'Yes you can. Come on baby, just cum'

'Cum all over his cock, you know you want to'

Satoru wants you riding his cock, and you, despite your lack of experience, mount him. The drugs in your system work wonders, make you wet and pliant for anything Gojo wants from you. Shoko has her fun riding Gojo's tongue as you ride his cock. The two of you make out, moaning as the man makes a mess of both of you, easily making you two cum. Shoko thinks she's going to miss getting fucked like this just a little bit.

She coaxes you to suck Gojo off with her. Shows you how to suck him off and helps you practice. Gojo laces his hands through your hair, barely holding back from fucking your mouth as wild as he wants to. Shoko knows it's because he's already decided that he'll have you again and again. You'll learn what he likes soon enough.

Until then, of course, he gets to enjoy a double blow job from the two of you. Shoko guides You to work with her. The two of you lick his cock side by side, before eventually taking turns deep throating him while the other licks and sucks on his balls. The two of you make out with the tip of his cock between your mouths- and he cums all over your faces and breasts. Shoko has you focus on licking him clean, knowing he likes it.

But then she's pulling you into a make out session and the two of you are rubbing his cum all over each other. Shoko knows the sight is going to drive Gojo wild, so she pushes you down on your back. She lies on top of you, pressing her breasts against your and lining her pussy on top of yours. The two of you resume making out, moaning as your clits rub together.

Gojo joins in of course. At first he pushes his cock between your pussies, and moves between them as Shoko moans with you. Then he starts alternating between fucking you two and that's when even Shoko forgets her plan for a bit. The two of you are completely at his mercy- as he fucks without restraint. He spends more time making you fall apart than Shoko, but frankly Shoko doesn't care as he slams into her pussy and your lips wrap around her nipple. She cums easily and sucks your nipples as Gojo fucks you hard. You whine as he fills you up with his cum again- Shoko's lips easily muffle your whine.

Man, she's even going to miss you, Shoko thinks. But eventually you three go to sleep. The next morning, Shoko makes it a point to leave before Gojo or you wake up. She knows Gojo loves to fuck around even the morning after- and she knows he'll focus on just you now. While the drug is mostly gone from your system now, she knows Gojo will still have you crying out his name.

She knows her plan somewhat worked when she finds you and Gojo making out in an alley outside their usual club a few weeks later. She knows it definitely worked when you retire as a sorcerer and marry Gojo less than a year later. She should feel sorry- because she knows you had no choice. Knows that Gojo forced you to retire and that he probably blocked your access to any plan B.

But she doesn't feel sorry.

[beanarie]

⭐️ for the temperature of becoming something (or any of your post-s8 fics) I'd love to hear about your approach to writing the 118 and how they ought to have treated buck, and how you balance nuanced characterization with what the show gave us! Really enjoying that story btw.

oh gosh i love this question. fair warning this will be long on words and possibly short on sense!

so temperature is the first fic where i tried to contend with the essential abandonment of buck by his family. for each character, i put them on a couple of different spectrums to figure out how to repair the relationship.

proximity is one spectrum. hen is the character with the most distance from buck. one on one, all things being equal, she maybe gets along a tiny bit better with him than chim does (where is my chim & buck daydrinking scene, timathon?), but the maddie connection shoves chim in the other direction. eddie is the closest to buck. even after he moved to texas, he and buck talked regularly about life shit (at least eddie's life shit, tho i guess buck telling him about everyone forgetting hen's birthday counts in the buck column).

not sure if i've had to say the plural of spectrum before. spectrums looks silly but spectra feels wrong, too. pretentious. anyway the next spectrum regards level of trauma/ability to recognize what was going on with buck. chim is on the high trauma end, as the one bobby sacrificed himself for, and as a guy with a heavily pregnant wife that might descend into a depressive episode as soon as the baby is born. hen is again the closest to the other side. she was sad, but she had her head on straight. and then there's eddie fighting for his life to steal chim's spot. do not get me wrong it makes sense to be upset under those circumstances! bobby's death triggered some shit. it did. but to make out like his struggle was worse than any of the others? bro literally made it all about him while accusing buck of doing that. fucking wild.

so between closeness, level of spiraling, and a couple of other things, i sussed out how responsible they each were for buck being left out in the cold. i didn't read eddie's "no one knows how to handle you" as accurate. hen and chim never had to "handle" buck on their own before. i think they would naturally assume eddie had him, so hen could concentrate on athena and i guess her kids (tim? bueller? remember bobby's stepkids??) and chim could wallow/be there for his wife & kid. still not very toretto style family of them, given buck's relationship with bobby, but eddie's the only one who knew exactly how little support buck was actually getting.

for maddie and chim, i kept the explicit amends to a minimum, instead focusing on them showing a commitment to doing better. because they do love buck; they've just been stuck on a rollercoaster the last six months and hadn't been able to take a breath long enough to see what's going on. also this is a divergent au where the transfer request never happened, so buck announcing he was going on leave was their first real sign of a problem. for hen, because she was in a better position to see buck wasn't okay, i went a little further, having her identify the issue and sincerely apologize for it.

for edmundo, my guy needed actual consequences because his main character syndrome is absolutely devastating for everyone around him. i wanted chris to be mad because he had just returned to la and one of his favorite people bounced due to his dad's mouth. i wanted buck to recognize how awful that one-sided fight was, and to go fully no contact for a while to force a reset including some actual growth for the two of them.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Bel removed her gloves with a solum expression: These kinds of things are completely normal for a first time pregnancy. You were barely five weeks along so it makes sense it would happen between now and the three months mark.

Adam blinked away tears, his baby was gone: H-How do I even tell him when he comes home? He's going to be so upset.

Bel: I can be there when you do, explain it like I did to you. I'm so sorry for your loss my Queen.

Melly escorted Adam back to his chambers, the bed freshly made and new night time clothes laid out.

Melly: I'm so sorry.....

Adam: It's not your fault. I just..... I was starting to look forward to having a baby.

He changed and sat on the edge of the bed.

Adam: If it's not too much to ask, can you stay with me? I'm not sure I can sleep now.

Melly nodded and pulled up a chair: I..... I'm not sure you're aware. But this isn't the first time this has happened.

Adam frowned: What do you mean?

Melly: You're not the King's first Queen.

That put a knot in Adam's stomach, did that mean the others were killed!?

Adam: I didn't know that.

Melly: You're his third.

Adam: What happened to the others?

Melly: His first wife, Queen Lilith he married when he was newly crowned King. It was a marriage more out of convenience than love so he said. They found out she could not have kids, so one night in the middle of the night she left him a note and disappeared. She felt like a failure to him not being able to have a baby so she left, wanting him to find better. They had been together roughly seven years. His next Queen was a lovely lady named Eve, who did in fact become pregnant.......

Adam could see her eyes clouded with a horrible memory.

Melly: When Eve was six months pregnant, she was out in the garden and picked one of the red apples for a snack. No one was around when she choked to death on it when she didn't chew it enough. His majesty found her there. They had only been married less than a year.

Adam: Oh my god..... That poor woman.

And poor Lucifer, the thought of finding someone, let alone your pregnant wife dead would be hard.

Adam: So he was really looking forward to this baby.....

Melly touched his hand gently: I'm sure he'll understand that this was just something out of your control.

Adam sure hoped so.

-

Lucifer sighed as he walked in the front doors of his palace, he really wished that Mammon and Ozzie would settle their petty affairs without him. He has enough to worry about.

When he got home he was expecting to see his Queen and relax, spend a little time together.

What he didn't expect was for both Adam and Bel to be waiting for him.

Lucifer: ...... What's wrong?

Adam's lip trembled: I...... I lost the baby.

To say that Lucifer was devastated was an understatement, as if his heart wasn't torn and ripped enough over the years. And he wasn't here to help Adam through it.

Maybe it was his karma for living how he did, but he makes no apologies for keeping his people safe.

Lucifer approached Adam: Are you alright? Doctor?

He wasn't angry, he was genuinely worried. He looked at Bel.

Bel: I'm so sorry your majesty, there was nothing that could have stopped this.

Adam could see the hurt in his eyes, Lucifer nodded and guided Adam to their room. Once the door was closed he did something that Adam didn't think he'd do.

He hugged him.

Lucifer: I'm sorry you went through that alone.

Adam teared up and Lucifer just held him as he cried silently, both of them mourning their baby.

When they got into bed, Lucifer held him and it felt nice. His touch was gentle as he ran fingers through his hair.

Had...... Had Adam been worried about nothing? He thought Lucifer would be pissed and blame him but he wasn't.

Soon, the touch helped him fall asleep.

-

Adam awoke in the early hours to an empty bed, but candle light was coming from the on suite bathroom and a small noise.

Getting up, he could see the door was cracked a tiny bit. Lucifer was sitting on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands.

Crying. He was crying and trying to keep quiet as to not disturb his Queen.

The Key to his Hardened Heart

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam breath was shaky as the maids fit him into his corset. Flattening out his chubby figure and making sure it gave off a proper hourglass.

Once that was completed he was then fitted into his dress.

A dress for what, one might ask?

Why for his wedding of course.

Soon enough he was sitting in front of his vanity while his servants finished with his make up and hair.

Making sure to eliminate even a whisker that rested on his face. Can’t have his betrothed displeased when he finally arrives to the alter.

A shiver went down his spine at the thought of the brute becoming upset. The same man who has desecrated villages, burn castles from foreign lands, and slaughtered people innocent or not.

The same warlord who he was meant to be marrying in an hour. Where he would then be whisked off to his castle in a land far from his own to live as his queen.

How could things have come to this moment?

[nikidontsurf]

Liam Gallagher being interviewed at the NME Awards (1995)

Interviewer: What are you gonna do next sort of… (…) I mean about like releasing singles or…

LG: America in February, do three weeks, 16 gigs in America. Come back do a single for England. Release it, go back, do another three weeks.

[squishosaur]

hey man. i'm just saying. why would we put inexperienced teenagers with over-inflated egos and obvious emotional issues into combat classes and make them claw their way to the top of their dorms and expect things to just run smoothly. who actually thought this

[marielle555]

Thank you so much! Everything you said is spot on. And helped me realize, what it is this feeling that at one time specifically ruined the perception of BG3. Metagaming. I'm a big fan of DnD and RPGs as well. Before I met BG3, I'd had the great pleasure of going through both Pathfinder games and a few other interesting games before that and they gave me quite a few amazing hours of immersion in a fantasy world. BG3 also first gave me that immersion, and then threw me out of it, making me become for a while an exceptionally sad average person from real life, sitting next to a PC screen and writing feedback, in which behind the “wall of text” hid the same meaning: "***! What the ***! Fix your *** in the game!" A unique gaming experience and a uniquely striking contrast, the likes of which I couldn't have imagined if I hadn't encountered in person - an amazing, truly extraordinary character - Astarion, who makes you fall in love with him so much, that you simply don't want anyone else, that I didn't want to give up on him “without a fight” after patch 6, and such, to put it mildly, “ flaws” in his romance, that if someone had told me about it in advance, before I had time to get attached to the character personally, I would not only never touch this game, but even the studio itself with any other projects I would probably avoid it like the plague. But thanks to this interaction with a real player, I learned a lot of new information - what a non-con is, what modern game-therapy approach to healing trauma is, how bad it is to sexualize game characters, and that “all modern vampires,” it turns out, are “tragic”…

Why should I even care what they have going on with “modern” vampires? I bought BG3 because I adored the BG series games, I need Faerûn to be there, my character needs to be a resident of it, and she fell in love with a vampire on Faerûn. This world exists separate from all this “modernity”, therapy language, all this ‘'sexualization’' stuff, some rules of ‘'healthy/unhealthy relationships’' and whatever else is fashionable at this particular stage concretely in Western culture. This world has its own lore, its own rules by which it exists. This idea of “vampire fetishization” that “should” bother a vampire-Astarion, living on Faerûn, completely spits on DnD's lore. And that "There's nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there? “, which completely defies logic, and is in irresolvable contradiction with realistic and actual: ”People don't trust vampires - perhaps understandably - so I needed to get someone on my side“, makes Astarion cease to be Astarion, and become a signboard for those, who for some unknown reason wanted to declare vampire romance as something ‘bad’ and ”unhealthy". And replace it with a healthy sexualization of bears to “improve society”, no other way…

Up until Act 3, the game was going great. There were some rough edges and “stumbles” that didn't kill, but somewhat spoiled the immersion, like the inability to tell the companions trying to seduce Tav, that you are already in a relationship with Astarion. The first sense that you're not the hero of the story comes in the dialogue with Halsin, when that line about you already being in a relationship comes off as completely obnoxious, as if you're okay with Halsin's proposal despite Astarion's love... And you're no longer the heroine of the story, but a boring monogamous heterosexual woman, who has to realize that being monogamous isn't cool or modern. Okay, here I can still imagine that the heroine of the story, unlike me, is a slight-talker, and isn't going to spend any more time on Halsin than it takes to say one word: “No” and move on. But in Act 3 it's just not possible anymore, when you can't pick a line in a scene because they're all no good, but you have to poke your mouse at something or the game won't continue, it's a really awful feeling. And yeah, without spoilers we can't know for sure, without spoilers I honestly assumed that “I want your body” was also some other modern day bullshit, like “it's cool to talk frankly about sex” because the game itself is unabashedly sexualized, with everyone hitting on Tav all the time, including illithid. It was just done poorly, but without spoilers I didn't realize it was done intentionally.

And after the check with mind-reading and “you're degrading yourself...”, to which it is impossible to react, for the first time in my life I had an acute desire for negative interaction through “kinetic discussion” directly with the author of the scene, especially because of the combination of these rails with the ‘possibility’ of “kicking him in the balls”. Why was such an abomination added, filmed, and no normal reactions? I generally find it disgusting that the game has such an “opportunity” and the only way to justify it in and of itself would be if it was possible to hit everyone, absolutely everyone in the game in cutscenes - Karlach, Jaheira, Wyll, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel, Halsin, Mystra (in Gale Origins), only then would it pass as an opportunity for roleplay. This kind of feeling seems to be due to a side effect of Welch's desire to constantly interact directly with the player rather than the character, the player also starts thinking about “Who wrote this?!” instead of enjoying their favorite escapism.

The only thing that makes the situation better and allows you to continue enjoying the game is the mods and the realization, that Astarion can't think you helped him ascend just because you're thirsty for vampire lords. I used to not be very fond of mods, even cosmetic ones, so as not to disrupt the original story in any way or bring something into the fantasy world that couldn't be in it. BG3 was an exception - mods become a “magic pill”, modders are amazingly talented and, what is especially nice, mods do not break immersion, but, on the contrary, help it, making the story better and more realistic.

I agree with you, and I can't say that Baudelaire Welch is a bad writer. It's entirely possible that they are a good writer. They are a bad scriptwriter for RPG games. A player character in an RPG should not be any kind of “narrative tool”, much less one with emotions spelled out by the author. Even Tav's inappropriate facial expressions at many plot points are annoying. This would be fine in a game with a pre-made character, who already has their own appearance, personality, and backstory, but in a game, where you create your own character, it spoils the game. And it could easily be avoided by simply moving the camera more often to companions or NPCs at times, when the PCs' emotional reactions might be different - the player knows how they feel about it, and besides, looking at a companion while talking to them is much more realistic than looking “at yourself”. And when you're a character in someone else's fanfic, why doesn't the game description say FPG (fanficplay game)? It would be better to invent a new genre than to cheat fans of a genre that has been around for a long time. And the very idea of inviting a fanfic author is really bad, since the script should be written by a professional screenwriter. Wouldn't Stephen Rooney, a professional screenwriter, have written the entire Astarion's romance on his own? A screenwriter of that caliber, who clearly doesn't need anyone to “help” him with his writing at all. Fane's romance in Divinity 2 was perfectly written, and if I'm not mistaken, there was no “special writer” for the romances when Larian did Divinity 2, and there were no major problems with the romances in Divinity either. The fanfiction community has always been perfectly fine gathering around any interesting game setting, people were perfectly fine realizing their fantasies using RPG plots written by professional screenwriters. And among the authors of Astarion fanfics there are people, who write better than Baudelaire Welch, Larian could at least organize a fair contest, if they wanted to add a fanfiction author to the scripting team....

And the anti-AA “fandom” is made up of people who don't understand a damn thing about roleplaying, RPGs, or DnD. Astarion “loses his soul” (I think that even sounds ridiculous to any DM or relatively experienced DnD player), then he has “textbook signs of abuser” (you can take a textbook, find signs of abuser in anti-AA themselves, find signs of abuser in Tav in the UA route - it's not hard, but I'd really like to do without textbooks at all, which can't be written on Faerûn).  “Your Tav feels this or that, your Tav is ‘”asking for freedom“’, right down to multiple statements about real players really '”wanting a hot vampire daddy“, ”gooners", and so on. Maybe some “media literate” people need someone to write everything for them, including reality, need authorities to tell them what to think, what to say, and who are the ‘'gooners’' here, but I would hate to be forced to apply my own media literacy to games, figuring out what's the reason that my game is being ruined, what's the “agenda” and what's the preaching in honor of. When in the real world you need this very media literacy to be able to separate facts from lies, in a game you want to take a break from it all. The very essence of escapism is a temporary escape from reality. People whose level of “literary literacy” is at the level of a middle school student, when it is necessary to memorize from the textbook “what the author wanted to say”, to mumble it or write it in an essay and get praise for it, are probably attracted by such simplistic stories about “the cycle of abuse”, “power corrupts” and they accept the metagame and the author's attempts to “teach them”, the main thing is that it was clear, what button to press and how to sexualize someone correctly, so that they could write “good person” in their notebook for it. But I personally buy a book, when I want to read a book, and watch a movie, when I want to be a spectator, and the main pleasure of RPG is the possibility of immersion, the possibility of being inside these events, personal interaction with the characters. If you don't like a book, you can easily drop it, if the series has gone downhill, you can just stop watching it and find another one, but when your character in an RPG is replaced by a doppelgänger created by the author and you can't do anything about it - it's a completely different feeling. And when they try to force you to part with your beloved character, your LI, who looked at you through the screen and interacted with you and not with the heroine of the series - that's a completely different feeling too.

In Daeran romance (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous) there is a moment, where you can kill the character Liotr, who has learned his secret. Daeran can also kill him himself, you can persuade Liotr, and not kill him. Funny thing is, I found out about the fact that you can choose not to kill him after playing the game by reading the guide, I also found out that it's killing a story NPC, turns out to be a very bad thing, “doing evil for Daeran's sake” according to some people. And I seem to have gotten what is considered his “evil ending” or not, I don't know, the ending was great and very happy, was too lazy to dig further on the internet to find out what it was called. The main thing is that the authors didn't try to “teach” me at all, there was no “very bad” in the game, immersion wasn't interrupted for a second. Pathfinder is perfectly playable blind, without requiring a single spoiler or any guides during the first playthrough. You can read the guides afterwards to marvel at the possible branching of the scenario and the thoughtfulness of the plot and wonder: “Wow, it was possible even that way!” I would never have thought, “being inside the plot”, that it would be possible to let someone who knows such a terrible secret of my beloved person live, and killing Liotr feels like a necessary decision. Yes, an evil act, but an evil act in a “do what you have to do” kind of way, sometimes you have to get your hands dirty, and I wasn't even robbed of the alignment of chaotic-good for that act. In Daeran's romance, there's a line for the PCs, “I will always support you” or “I will always be on your side” (not verbatim) that you choose, and interestingly enough, it's a non-alignment line - love has no alignments, it's something more important than '‘good’ and “evil”. In BG3 for Astarion, we don't have anything like that after he Ascended. Although there was a similar answer in one of the dialogs before that, in the dialog when Astarion wants to find the other spawns. Where did that intention then disappear to? In the same dialog with Daeran, next to this main line, there was also a line leaning the player's alignment “towards good” - something about “you can always be a better person”, something in memory directly giving away the waibes of the UA route. And the line “towards evil” - something about Daeran being a tool for you. When such a line is just there - well, maybe that's how someone roleplays, it doesn't get in the way. In a good RPG bad lines are not noticeable, you just slip a glance and choose another, “your” line, and they can not be called bad, when they are not imposed on anyone, when it is one of many options. In Daeran's romance, it's one “evil” line. In the dialog after the ritual, it's ALL lines. “I want to become a vampire” and “I want your body” - Astarion is seen as a “tool” for Tav + two lines for lecturing and scolding.

After I killed Liotr, Daeran didn't think I was “sexualizing” him. When Daeran says “freedom at last” and you ask him why, he says: “because it's the most beautiful thing, except life itself, and many fail to appreciate it”. The Ascended Astarion would probably think the same thing, not that I “lust for him as a vampire”. When I asked Daeran “does he feel lonely around me” in the romantic dialog, he said “no, especially after you got your hands dirty for me”. And Astarion has instead “You're degrading yourself by staying with him...”  And one really gets sad for such a unique and wonderful character like Astarion, when you compare the writing of his romance to Daeran's romance, which was written by professional screenwriters.

“Escapism is the main point of any roleplaying game” - thank you, and I'd awfully like to see studios that produce roleplaying games have a sign with that inspirational phrase hanging in an office somewhere.

I often read that Astarion has two authors, Rooney and Welch. I'd be interested to know what influence Welch had on the AA story. Some also say that his story was "watered down" by Larian. Objectively, though, only Tav's facial expressions changed, so I don't know what else would have changed in his story. Thanks for your answer.

Baudelaire Welch, a former “the companion character designer lead” who has been working on Baldur's Gate 3 as “the romance feature lead”, in their own words, “wrote quite a few of the Astarion romance dialogues in the later period of production”. Unfortunately, this author's work, their views, and their personal perception of how game romances affect real-life romances have been largely a bad influence on the romance of Ascended Astarion. It was Welch's view that the Ascension was a “bad ending” for Astarion that was subsequently hyped by AA haters (Stephen Rooney, the author of Astarion, himself corrected this by saying that the Ascension was not Astarion's ‘bad’ ending, it was his “evil” ending). Their somewhat twisted understanding of romance and desire to make the players feel like failures was expressed in this one:

Article: "Baldur's Gate 3 writer's explanation of Astarion's 'bad' ending is a wake-up call for players lusting over RPG characters".

This kind of insult to the audience, the portrayal of players as sex-crazed (which was later used heavily against Astarion's fans) goes a long way towards explaining where this single mind-reading check in the game came from, which is impossible to react to, and provides no additional options for interaction. The author “wrote” a certain sex-crazed player, creating scenes without the possibility of any roleplay. Accordingly, the scene of dialog with the worst lines (“I want your body”, etc.) and the same impossibility of roleplay, also belongs to Welch's pen. As a player I can only reply: "I failed to see a good RPG in the third act. It's beyond my understanding of classic RPG games". These lines and this check have already been criticized and discussed many times, but the essence of the logic of this narrative is best conveyed here:

(Picture taken from Larian forum, author Ametris, was published on the forum during the period of active indignation of players after patch 6)

How the author managed to ascribe such motivation to the players is, of course, a mystery, as is where the theme of sex is traced during the Ascension ritual, why Astarion can be helped without having romance with him, and why sex can be refused (the romance is preserved). And of course, for submitting to this imposed narrative, the player who leaves Astarion a spawn forever will be rewarded with sex. But without the cutscene. As for the post-Ascension sex scene itself, Welch claimed she didn't know it existed.

Thank you so much to Larian's animation team! You are the best! We can roughly conclude from this that the Welch's authorship of the scene of the night after the Ascension may only include the lines. I even suppose that the very notes of the developers for this scene could belong to Stephen Rooney himself (but this is only an assumption, it is impossible to find information about who wrote these notes).

These developer notes clearly describe how Astarion and Tav love each other and how Astarion is powerful and free. So, thanks for everything we love about this scene, to the animators and to Neil and his beautiful acting. And if you compare the lines for the player, you'll see a strong difference in the quality of writing compared to other scenes of Astarion's romance - Act 1 scene (this scene is written by Stephen Rooney and it's great) everything is fine with the roleplay, Act 3 is a scene of 4 bad lines, it's just impossible to make a choice while maintaining immersion. You can even just compare Tav's facial expression in act 1 scene (when you offer Astarion your neck and he bites you) - the facial expression is adequate to the situation, it's real, as it should be - a smile, you can see that Tav is enjoying it, and in act 3 they imposed a stupid frowning face, and the surprise is as if it's the first time Astarion bit you, and in general everything is bad and Tav just tolerates it. One is left to fantasize about how great the romance could have been if Stephen Rooney had written the entire story of Astarion and every line in it by himself. “A Gentle Line” would have been beautiful for sure. But these are dreams, and in reality, unfortunately, the post-Ascension scene was regularly made worse starting in patch 4:

(From Larian Forum, author Ametris)

Also in this interview with Welch and Schick: “Baldur's Gate 3 Writers Break Down the Craft of Video Game Sex and Romance” you can learn more about the writers' approach to romance. Interesting that:

“In contrast, romance was baked into Baldur’s Gate 3 from the beginning, and Larian developed its dynamic animation system to account for characters having to hug and kiss.” As a result, we have one hug in the Act 2 scene (and that in this scene for confession of feelings for me this action seems too weak, compared to the possibility to open the mind, which I find more serious and sincere). Except it's possible to regularly load a save just to hug Astarion, but within the story Astarion wasn't hugged once until the mod.

“It used to be set up so that the only way that romances could begin was this one night in the party, where you could only pick one character,” Welch says, “And then basically, that character would end up being your love interest for the whole rest of the game.”

This locked fans into dating the same character simply due to a few choices made toward the start of the game. As a fan before coming to work at Larian, though, Welch wished players could experience love triangles and multiple partners.”

It's unfortunate the resources went into this. I was honestly rather saddened to learn that BG3 was originally intended to be a good classic RPG with a romance with a single companion. I can imagine how rich the romance could have been, if all the resources wasted on bears, cheating, “choices between the two” and whatnot had been shared between the romances with LI. For Act 1 there's 2 hours of extra content created for all those triangles (including lines, scenes, and companion reactions), but a hug for Astarion - no, not even in the epilogue, just as there's no kiss in the epilogue, nor is there any opportunity for a “gentle” romance.

And to this:

“People often write fanfiction that is deeply about conflict, about angst, about actual challenges that are being overcome in a relationship,” Welch says. “There are quite a lot of really heartbreaking break-up scenes that happen in Baldur’s Gate 3. That’s the thing that people don’t necessarily consider being an important part of romance.”

I think there's a reason people don't consider breakups an important part of romance. Games are about escapism and fun after all. There's no way I'd pay $70 to get frustrated and get something as unpleasant as a relationship breakup in a game. Fine, let it be, if someone likes it, as an extra option that doesn't get in the way and doesn't take a lot of resources away from the main romance line. I believe that romance in the game and lines for the player should be made for those players, who love the character, and all this side stuff like breakups and fights can be added as an option for those, who want to break up the romantic relationship, but not in the amount of tons of nasty lines for Tav for more than half of the content with no possibility to say “I love you”, hug and kiss gently (which is unfortunately the case in the Ascended Astarion romance). The possibility of a breakup is a common sideline for romance, yes, it should exist in RPGs, but to give it so much importance, to define the romance by it, is ridiculous. But the haters really fucked up AA fans with their “you can't break up with him”. And it's worth pointing out the hypocrisy of praising “Endless Thirsty Fan Art” and sex speedruns on the one hand, and on the other - note the very title of the article, “Baldur's Gate 3 writer's explanation of Astarion's ‘bad’ ending is a wake-up call for players lusting over RPG characters.” Players are being insulted and called gooners for… Wanting to help their beloved character in a plot quest! Just to prevent a tragic outcome for him with “Astarion will remain a spawn forever” and a finale that looks and is essentially a poorly executed quest for an evil companion. And I'm not at all against the first one, I fully support diversity and providing different options in games so people can fulfill whatever sexual fantasies they want without any judgment, but just without this kind of hypocrisy and trying to insult and ruin the game for a portion of the audience who paid the same price for the game as everyone else.

In the game Baudelaire Welch seems to have decided to “shame” fans of vampire romance - in the dialog of non-romantic Astarion after meeting Oblodra in Act 2 we can hear his line: “There's nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there?” and their favorite “degradation” (“It's degrading that people like her fall for it”). This gives haters the opportunity to compare fans of the Ascended Astarion to this very same Oblodra. In order to learn about Oblodra's attraction to Astarion one must play through the game without having a romance with him. Otherwise the meaning of the insult slips away (as it did for me the first time I saw such a comparison, thanks to Arachnomancer for commenting on my previous post with detailed lines). How unrealistic this line sounds in the world of Faerûn, where vampires are feared and clearly not “desired”, well, it's a pretty well known phenomenon that when the agenda comes to the forefront, the lore of the world, realism and other things of little importance to preach cease to matter. It's possible to imagine that Astarion might have encountered something similar in the past, but in the rest of the game, except for this place, attitudes towards vampires are shown differently. In the romantic dialog, Astarion can say, “People don't trust vampires - perhaps understandably - so I needed to get someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly.” He needed protection, because people don't trust vampires, which sounds logical. And the motivation to seduce Tav for the sake of that protection made sense too. Astarion admits that Tav was his first (in terms of a bite, the first person to voluntarily give him their blood, and Astarion took it as a gift “This is a gift, you know. Thank you - I won't forget it.") And he definitely was hiding the fact that he was a vampire, when he was forced to seduce victims for Cazador. The Curse of the Vampyr book (the first of which is literally right in the first tomb) - also illustrates how vampires are treated in the world of Faerûn. Companion reactions after the bite scene. The girl in the sewers (whom Petras has invited, in order to drink her dry, celebrating what he thought would become his freedom), we can tell her that the guy she's waiting for is a vampire, and she'll be scared and completely unwilling to stay waiting for the most desirable lover. Astarion also didn't want to risk stirring our desire too quickly and hid the fact that he was a vampire, early in the adventure. What fans of vampire romance got was preachy, and RPG fans got degradation. The degradation of the genre, when in Act 3 you suddenly get an RPG novelization.

And it's funny how with one hand, bestiality is added to the game (Baudelaire Welch also authored the infamous bear scene, which they say was done for the sake of some “horny shitposting” fans who do it with their friends on Discord, you can see more about it in their “Romance Design in Video Games” lecture below, and game magazines have also written about it, “A sort of shit-eating grin was on my face when I was pitching it”), and the other hand is an accusation for players who like vampire romance. Well, okay, they don't accuse all vampire sexualizers (if you don't let Astarion Ascend, he won't stop being a vampire, but he is allowed to be sexualized), they only accuse players who like healthy vampire romance (when the vampire is healthy, not burning or starving), and try to claim that we're “experiencing the pleasure of degradation”.

But, the main thing is that Larian did not force players to finally break up with the game and changed Tav's facial expressions in the kisses to adequate ones. The animations of the D/s scenes for Ascended Astarion's kisses were filmed separately, and the words “scared, sad and pained”, (were discovered by the modders in the game's code) were used in order to draw the facial expressions of a rape victim on the faces of the player characters as a “Valentine's Day gift”. There is no confirmation that this was the entire studio's idea. Stephen Rooney, sadly, left Larian before patch 6 was released and he had nothing to do with these disgusting scenes. Patch 7 fixed this, and most likely led the kissing to the version of the content that was previously intended as fanservice. During Larian's appearance at PAX West 2024, when answering a question about sexuality in BG3, Adam Smith mentioned that they purposely added "kinky" sexual scenes into the game to make things more authentic, and that they consider that a good thing that they're proud of. He said, "We wanted it to feel authentic... I don't think sexuality should be controversial; different kinks, arousals, fetishes, whatever it might be... I think it's okay for things to be sexy.” Larian positioned the romance in BG3 as a dating simulator before, and by including BDSM romance, they chose Astarion for the dominant role because he's best suited for it. And the horrible faces for the player character is like Welch's attempt to “finish their novel” (as their fans used to threaten that “the novel must be finished”) at the expense of a wonderful character written by Stephen Rooney and at the expense of cheating players (patch 6 in regards to Astarion's fanservice was a fraud and consumer deception - given that the genre of the game purchased was RPG and the roleplay in the romance line was absent and replaced with low quality fanfic). Unfortunately, these scenes were also triggering and triggered PTSD in many people. (“New Astarion kisses in Baldur's Gate 3 have a disturbing effect on fans and here's why”).

Perhaps Mx Welch thought this was some kind of uniquely innovative approach. In his lecture Romance Design in Video Games:

Welch presented a list of what they think will make romances in games more interesting for players (and what I would call “A Practical Guide: How to Make a Player Unhappy in Your Game with Romantic Relationships.”):

It seems like the disgusting “kisses” designed to victimize the player by stripping them of agency and painting horrible faces on their characters was a failed attempt at realizing point 6. And the haters “fandom” with their “Cazador 2.0”, “soul loss” and other nonsense that is based on nothing is a realized point 5. So seeing gaslighting in a BG3 game definitely succeeded, albeit not in the romance of the game, but in the fandom. In AA romance, there's an opportunity for a roleplay of a toxic partner, all the negativity goes through Tav - lines for Tav (like “You're like Cazador”), imposed facial expressions, no opportunity for roleplay there, where it might have elicited some particular deep emotional reaction from Astarion (you can see the potential of AA's romance in chatbots, even in hater's chatbots, how much he loves and reacts if the player has the opportunity to write their lines, but, in the game, alas, we have a scene of 4 negative lines). Plus “mind-reading” with “degradation” is an imposition on the writer's (Welch's) position. It's a tricky screenwriting move (but “tricky” in a bad way) - the line reflects Astarion's inner state, combined with his character, his inner pain and his self-esteem because of his trauma, and that's what Welch used. But combined with the inability to do anything about it, we get trapped. We have to validate this self-perception of his, while at the same time allowing the author to stigmatize ourselves and fit us to their narrative, as in the tale of the Little Mermaid, who gives her voice to the Witch to save the prince. Plus it gives an opportunity for someone to take that line as if Astarion sees Tav as inferior to himself, or twist it to favor their propaganda. The dialogue scene before this is also a deliberate violation of all laws of the RPG genre - it's purposely done this way, in order to make the player look like a “sexualizer” and give a “feel bad ending”. I believe Welch's contribution is primarily Tav and the lines for Tav (yes, and all those relationship-breaking lines). Of course, Welch did some good stuff ("Aeterna Amantes. Lovers forever, until the world falls down” is their line, according to their fans, the scene of Act 2 is also good and very touching). Exactly what other Ascended Astarion lines belong to their pen is probably unlikely to be known for sure. I've read that Stephen Rooney wrote the epilogue and Astarion at the party after the epilogue, but I have no confirmed evidence of that. But it seems true - the adorable animations of Astarion at the party - the bat, the costume, the way Astarion throws the cup, plays with daggers, etc. seem to me to match Rooney's writing. And the lack of hugs and kisses just for us, just for our fandom, just for our Astarion is more like Welch's solution. Although, considering that even after Welch left, even though they changed our faces, none of the other requests were fulfilled, perhaps the blame for the deterioration of Astarion's romance also lies with those who officially own the rights to the BG3 characters - Wizards of the Coast. Shortly before Patch 6, Wizards of the Coast had mass layoffs of people, many of whom had worked with Larian and interacted with them about the BG3 game. At the very least, don't blame it solely on Welch, there were probably other individuals willing to shove this trashy preaching to players in romance and label Astarion as an “abuser”.

I would also like to call attention to this quote from the Baudelaire Welch lecture:

“In this dialogue, I directly wanted to make the player feel bad for having learned the mentality of click-the-right-dialogue-options-to-get-sex-in-video-games, as that's kind of been baked into us as romance players of previous generations of RPGs. In this scene, it's you click the sex options and you'll further traumatize a traumatized person.”

Yes, this is referring not to the Ascended Astarion romance, but the heavy and rare scene where Tav can force Astarion to have sex with them during the act 2 confession scene. Yes, it's a hard scene, I watched it on video, Astarion is really painful to watch. But… Where has the esteemed author seen players with this “mentality,” who will actually click on lines with a hint of sex in any situation? Specifically this scene in BG3 is only experienced by game testers, with the desire to check all of Astarion's reactions, to watch maximum content, and they choose every possible option to get to know the game and the character from all sides. Well, or post a rare scene on their youtube channel. Even the very first line that leads to this scene, “I was hoping that as a reward for my support you'd throw yourself to me” is for a roleplay of an extremely weird character, to whom a headshot won't damage their brain. And even though the scene itself is strong, heavy and tough, but no one sees it, “roleplaying themselves” and choosing what they want to choose. Treating the players like idiots, that will actually choose this and wanting to “teach them something”? Again, there's no problem with that in this scene, it's not in the main playthrough, you can watch it from youtubers, you can play it yourself in “test mode” to analyze the character and learn more about Astarion. But, ahem, isn't the same attitude shown already in the main story scenes, like the dialog after the Ascension and the attempt to show/impose something through a check that you can only agree with? I really wish that authors of games in the RPG genre, where player agency and choice are supposed to be present, would realize that players are mostly adults and are not going to “learn” anything in games, much less dislike any kind of “preaching” towards them. And if you consider the audience to be idiots, it might produce bad writing, and the audience, in turn, will certainly judge the quality of such writing and criticize it. True wordsmiths may influence the audience, but they don't try to “teach” or “force”. They tell a story - logical, coherent, with room for roleplay and choice. You probably need to be a genius and a master of manipulation to introduce some ideas without being noticed, but it's very difficult, it's better to just write a good script.

Baudelaire Welch is also very fond of fanfics:

“The last part of how do we make our romance feel better for players? Wish fulfillment is forgettable. Players who go to write fanfiction are just as interested in hurt as they are in joy. Hurt is something to analyze. Hurt is a dilemma, and behind it is a moral choice.”

“I know because I was writing fan fiction about Baldur's Gate 3 before I worked on it”.

“It feels like a watershed moment in gaming history, where the fanfiction community felt like we were not a subculture within a fandom, but the majority audience that the game was catering to”.

Well, it doesn't take a statistical expert to realize that the main audience is still just playing the game and not writing fanfics. And those who do write, write completely diverse plots and completely varying quality. There are quite a few beautiful, strong and interesting works written about Ascended Astarion, but there are also some nausea-inducing “abuser” fantasies. Patch 6 was only suitable as a video insert for this, rather disgusting, mediocre and very far from the real image of Astarion category of fanfics. It's not the best option to take a small fraction of the total number of players (those who write fanfics at all), from them choose an even smaller fraction - those who write crappy fanfics, and make a romance for them, screwing up the story for the main consumer - those who bought the game according to its genre (RPG) and with faith in the already known Baldur's Gate setting.

Welch is also known to have worked on Dark Urge and on Astarion's dialog for Dark Urge:

The post with this message has been removed from Reddit. An Imgur link with a screenshot of the post was saved by one of the commenters. The quality is poor, so here's a reprint:

"It was me! So thank you! I am the Dark Urge writer, but I worked on writing for Astarion for several months during crunch. Because I had the opportunity to, I added a lot of extra interactions between the two characters. That’s why Astarion gets a bunch of I dialogues for the Dark Urge, and none of the other characters do. I'm sure we would have liked to have every character repeatedly check in on the dark urge, but there wasn't really time/budget for it. I just was working on the two characters at the same time and wanted to squeak in him being super supportive and worried about you throughout the game.

Neil absolutely killed it, though. I'd totally forgotten I'd added the scene where you try to break up with Astarion because you're worried about endangering him, and he absolutely doesn't let you.

But the Neil delivery of those lines have now totally burned that moment into my brain endurindly, he's just so sweet and anxious for you there".

Baudelaire Welch was selected for the role by Swen Vincke himself because their "mother worked partially on the script for Silence of the Lambs, the movie". (source: "The lead writer of Baldur's Gate 3's Dark Urge was extremely squeamish at first, which shows you can do just about anything if you set your mind to it.")

In general, that's the major of what I know about Baudelaire Welch's contribution to AA history (I apologize for the occasional digression in the form of my own assessments of this or that aspect, but it affected me a lot as a player at the one time). And about what you said about “the story was watered down” even though it was really only the expression on Tav's face that changed - the player character (!), a character that in RPGs has always belonged to the player and the job of a good writer is to provide enough choices and reactions for the roleplay so that the player can find a suitable option and make their own choices - that's a good point. Haters constantly claim that we were demanding a “rewrite of AA”, whereas we were demanding a return of agency, actually, something that has always been there in the same wonderful old games that Mx Welch criticized for supposedly superficial romance. These games didn't have such superb motion capture as BG3, thanks to that and Neil Newbon's superb play Astarion and his romance was so beautiful and clingy, and of course thanks to Stephen Rooney for creating Astarion (a character like Astarion hasn't been in any game before either). But the romance in these old games was written perfectly. I never had such problems with roleplaying as in BG3, in any RPG game I've played, I always had enough lines and reactions, so it can't be called some kind of picky or inflated requirements, if all other games of this genre were fine with it. In interactive novels, where you play as some ready-made character with their own prescribed personality, who act independently in some scenes, and somewhere you can choose options/replies for them and these options are limited - this approach is perceived normally and will not be an imposition, you may not like the character, but it happens. But for an RPG, having the player create their own character/self is just bad writing. As if you “have to” feel, perceive events the way the author demands. No, it's authors who have to write in such a way that immersion is not interrupted. And those whining about “rewriting AA” basically wanted the PCs to be part of their “story” and Astarion had nothing to do with it. By the way, Astarion himself is really great in the romance, I love all his lines, so for the lines of Astarion that were written by Baudelaire Welch, I can only thank them. But not for “Tav.” In general, the very idea of forcing a reaction and trying to fit the PC to “their own vision” is a big mistake. I'll make my decision to buy the next Larian game based on whether they'll treat Tav as a “storytelling tool” or make an RPG with enough roleplay and choices. And whether they'll listen to some next bunch of haters who want other players' beloved character to “not have a happy ending”. After patch 6, Astarion's “romance” looked like this:

(From Larian Forum, by Ametris)

Fortunately, this “novel” was not completed, and player agency is now present in the game, at least for those players who are fans of D/s romance. Modders have returned agency to the rest of us (at least PC players).

And yes, if someone starts “accusing” me and other people who gave negative criticism of Welch's work of “hating”, I would ask them to first find out the difference between “hating” and evaluating the author's work. Well, and evaluating the author's attitude towards the audience, based on their statements (it's pretty weird to spit at an audience and expect the audience to take it enthusiastically). Baudelaire Welch is currently no longer at Larian, and I wish them every success in their future endeavors.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[chuluoyi]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

- sylus x reader

when your husband went away without so much as a proper notice, you thought you wouldn't forgive him so easily. but he tries everything to capture your heart back: spoiling and indulging you… little do you know that he expects a reward in return

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—rotten fluff, domestic bliss, explicit smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mating press, taking elements from sylus' card night of secrecy, secret times approaching dusk and spoilers! from myth beyond cloudfall

note: my first sylus x mc fic! with this i'm spreading the soft!sylus agenda and that spicy 4-star approaching dusk has destroyed me :') loosely based on this post

Sometimes, you do wonder... does Sylus really think you're that easy to placate?

On one chilly morning, you woke up only to discover your hunk of a husband gone... and in his side of the bed, a sticky note.

Your eyebrow twitched as you read the audacious message scrawled on it:

Hey, kitten. I need to leave for a few days. There are things I have to handle on my own. Take care of yourself while I’m away. I’ll come back soon.

That was it. No clear explanation, no further details. Just those vague words in such short notice. The day before, he’d seemed like his usual self, not a hint of this sudden departure in sight.

It irked you. It made your heart clench at the same time. Because even after marrying you, Sylus remained elusive, playing his cryptic games. It was beyond you how he didn't even stop to consider how you were left worrying about him while he drifted in and out of his dangerous world without a second thought.

You understood the reality of your lives—that you were a hunter and he was the Onychinus leader, and that to be with him meant you had to walk that fine gray line between light and dark.

And you'd already made your choice. You had accepted it—accepted him—wholly. Even when your marriage had been a rushed affair and registered under false names to protect both your identities.

Things couldn't go on like this. You had to teach him a lesson too.

As your irritation simmered into determination, a devious plan began to take shape in your mind—a way to spite him just enough to make your point crystal clear.

Two days later

Sylus was done with his dirty business faster than he thought, and to appease you, he had come bearing gifts.

The precious little thing that is now his wife, of course he missed you too. But your safety was a price he wasn’t willing to gamble. If going away to take care of those pests meant your peace would be unperturbed, then he would leave without hesitation.

However, as he stepped inside the base, his relief quickly turned to unease. The space was eerily empty, the usual hum of activity conspicuously absent.

Normally, you’d be at the center of some commotion, locked in a spat with either Mephisto, or Luke and Kieran. But now—

“What do we do?! She’s gone!”

Sylus immediately rushed to the source of the ruckus, thinking something bad had happened to you. He found his henchmen standing in a tight, anxious circle around the coffee table.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without a word, they stepped aside, revealing the object of their concern: a single note lying on the table.

He snatched it up, scanning the words. Then, he let out a sharp exhale of relief, a smirk began tugging at the corners of his lips.

Catch me if you can.

Typical. Absolutely typical. And maddeningly you.

. . .

That night, you had a very strange dream, it felt almost felt like stepping into the pages of an ancient tale.

You were a fallen princess wrongfully accused as a sorceress, who began consorting with the fearsome fiend from the Abyss.

The sorceress and her dragon. Together, you were an infamous pair, a dark legend whispered across generations. Your union had ignited Doomsday itself... and yet, amidst the turmoil and destruction, the sorceress fell in love with the dragon... deeply and irrevocably.

The dragon, in turn, was utterly bewitched by his little witch. He indulged your every whim, no matter how mischievous or perilous, and though he rarely spoke of his true feelings, he always found ways to show his affection.

The lucid dream felt as though it might go on forever, but you were pulled from it by the soft brush of lips against your forehead. The warmth lingered, blurring the lines between dream and reality, until your eyes fluttered open.

“Sylus...?” His features, fresh from your dream, now materialized in your reality. It took you a few seconds to realize that he had come here—

“Morning, sweetie.” His voice was rich and smooth, with that familiar, mischievous edge. A smirk curled on his devilishly handsome face as he leaned in, garnet eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Caught you now, hmm?”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant, and you were suddenly wide awake. In a flurry, you shoved him away and turned your back on him, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You’d left the N109 Zone for one of his safehouses in suburban Chansia City, thinking it would take him some effort to track you down. Clearly, you’d underestimated him.

“Oh. The kitten is in a bad mood, it seems.” Sylus’ gaze lingered on you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do I owe the ire for?”

“...”

“Silent treatment, huh? The lady of the house is getting better at our little games while I was away.”

“...”

“Remember, sweetie, there’s no divorce in our relationship, hmm? If you’re tired of me, keep taking naps.”

You felt the weight shift as he rose from the bed and stalked away. The door clicked shut, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You wanted to resent him for coming and going on his terms, for never offering even an apology. Yet, no matter how much you tried, a part of you remained hopelessly tethered to him. The part that couldn’t ignore the reminder of the dragon from your dream—captivating, powerful, and infuriatingly hard to resist.

You love him, really you do.

. . .

When you didn’t come down for breakfast some time later, Sylus barged into the room once again, and this time he came up with a different approach.

“My lady,” he began, his voice sickeningly low and sweet, but his eyes gleamed with a touch of mischief. “You haven’t had breakfast yet. Please come down.”

You shot him a look, unamused, and decided to play his game as you crossed your arms together. “What if I don't want to?”

His smirk only grew, his tone dripping with mock formality. “And what must I do to change your mind?”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice his persistence. He had chased you here, given you more time to sleep in, and now stood before you to get you to eat. You felt your resolve beginning to soften—maybe just a little.

“Carry me there,” you said with a hint of defiance, lifting your chin high, daring him to follow through.

Sylus tilted his head, failing to restrain his snort. “As you wish, my lady.”

He placed his arms around you effortlessly, one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you into a flawless princess carry. You instinctively put your arms around his neck, and he turned to you.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off a sharp retort, but before you could, he dived in—

Smooch!

—and planted a bold, wet kiss on your lips. You, wide-eyed, punched his chest in retaliation. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Careful now, sweetie. Wiggle too much, and you’ll fall.”

He carried you downstairs, effortlessly navigating each step with you still in his arms. Once there, he gently set you down onto the dining chair, and that was when you noticed the table.

Salad, slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, milk—simple dishes by all means, but the thought the big, bad Sylus making them?

Wait. When you arrived last night, this place was a dusty shell, and the refrigerator had practically nothing—

“You cleaned the place?” you asked, your tone laced with surprise as your turned from the spotless room to him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that so surprising? I can cook and clean just like everyone else.”

It sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He’d prepared food and cleaned the place knowing you’d be hungry and uncomfortable with dust all around.

You huffed, trying to hide how your heart fluttered. “No, your cooking skills are questionable at best.”

As if to prove you wrong, Sylus disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a tray of warm, freshly baked dough that filled the room with a heavenly aroma.

“You are... baking?” You approached him, mystified at the sight of your husband, who usually at the scene of crime, behind the counter and started frosting the cupcakes.

He set the frosting bag down and picked up a cupcake, holding it to your lips with a teasing smile. “Here. Open up.”

Dutifully, you nibbled on the cupcake, and the sweetness immediately spread into your mouth. “It's tasty,” you mumbled, blinking at him. His eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he gestured toward the tray.

“Go have some more.”

Grinning, you grabbed another cupcake and eagerly took a bite. Munching away, you missed how Sylus’ gaze softened, his bright red eyes focused solely on you.

He couldn't resist pinching your full cheeks at that moment.

“Sy-wus!” you protested, glaring at him. His laughter broke free that instant, warm and unrestrained.

Utterly funny, utterly precious—that’s what you were to him.

Indignant, you scooped up some icing from the cupcake and smeared it right across his face. The stunned look he gave you was priceless, and before he could react, you burst into a fit of giggles and bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you reached the base of the stairs, a strong arm caught your waist from behind, halting your escape. You squealed in surprise, “Noooo!”

Sylus leaned closer and pressed you to his chest, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Ha. Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

He lifted you up with one arm and brought you back to the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and trapping you in place with his arms braced on either side. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned in, and with a grin, he bumped his frosting-smeared nose against yours, leaving a sticky smudge.

“This is unfair!” you protested, still caught in a fit of giggles as you looped your arms around his neck for balance. Sylus chuckled along with you, his gaze steady and warm, never leaving yours.

Being with Sylus in the kitchen like this, savoring simple meals and smearing each other with frosting, it made you realize that you craved this domestic bliss more than you thought.

As the laughter subsided and you both settled into the quiet, your expression softened, all your previous grievances forgotten. The tenderness in your eyes said everything you didn’t need words for, and Sylus could see it clearly—you adored him, just as much as he adored you.

The one who gazed into his jewel-like eyes, embraced his burning soul and sang to him in the night wind... is once again in his arms. A part of him was almost sentimental at the thought.

Instinctively, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. But as they were about to meet, he paused, as if hesitating, leaving you puzzled.

Then, without a second thought—

To hell with it.

You chose to abandon all senses. You seized the moment—yanking him to you and capturing his lips, claiming him for yourself.

“…!” Suck, suck, bite, suck— You were relentless, and you didn't really know why. At first, even he was taken aback, but then his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an intoxicating rhythm.

“Mmm...” You sneakily began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, your fingertips grazing his warm skin with each deliberate motion. Feeling it, Sylus broke the kiss just enough to smirk, his voice husky. “Getting bold, aren’t we?”

But before you could respond, his hands trailed down your sides, firmly pulling you closer, leaving no space between the two of you. His gaze burned with desire, as if daring you to keep going.

Then, without warning, his lips began their descent, grazing your jaw softly before trailing down to your neck and chest, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers across your skin. The feeling was intoxicating, even as his hair tickled you, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Ahh,” you couldn’t help but sigh, pressing him closer.

His lips left wet marks on your neck, and he whispered, “Now tell me... what made you so upset that you left home?”

When you didn't answer right away, one of his hand slid beneath your blouse, unhooking your bra and grazed your skin—

“You... keep coming and going as you please...” you stammered, feeling him begin to cup and squeeze your breasts, your breath growing erratic.

Sylus bit down on the skin at the nape of your neck, and you almost gasped.

“It's almost as if— Mmm—” The way he fondled your chest made the space between your legs grow warmer. “—you wouldn’t... miss m-me at all...”

How untrue. He stopped his ministrations, and the steel behind those eyes you loved so much met your gaze once again.

His wife was a mess of sweat already. He swiftly hooked your thighs around his waist and claimed your lips once more. With effortless movement, Sylus guided you to the long recliner in the room, laying you down there, still lost in the heat of the kiss. His hand intertwined with yours, pinning you to the soft surface.

“So...” he rasped, breathless against your lips, “You’re upset that I didn't miss you when I was away...”

His other hand worked to unzip your skirt. “But don’t you know? I... was worried about my wife getting into trouble when I wasn’t with her too... That’s why I was in a hurry to go home...”

Sylus pulled away, both of you panting for air, and he took a moment to savor the sight of your glazed eyes.

“But then I couldn't find her anywhere.” His voice was low and taunting, trailing his fingers on your belly. “I made it back as soon as I could, just like I told you and you are the one who misbehaved... Don’t you think I deserve something as a compensation?”

It took you three solid seconds to realize that the lower half of your body was now exposed. Your husband parted your legs and settled his face between them, pressing a kiss on your knee.

“So I believe at the very least... I deserve this.”

He dived straight for your clit then and you let out a loud gasp.

“Ngh! Aaah...!” You let out incoherent moans as he devoured your folds, lost in the cloudy haze of pleasure. It didn’t take long to unravel you at all.

“Mmnh—!” Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. Ticklish, hot, wet— all in all, it felt like a sin, but you just had to get this heavenly taste. “…a-ah!”

Sylus felt how you were this close to get your orgasm, so he moved faster, licking and sucking your clit, while adding a couple of fingers to bring you to the peak faster. You unconsciously moved your hips against his face— too far gone to be thinking anything else, grasping the leather of the sofa and pulling his hair—

“Ahh— S-Sylus!” And then you came hard, screaming his name, feeling how much it was— were you squirting?

You didn't know, didn't care either, as it was the sight of his ruby eyes that grounded you. You were spent, spread on the sofa (most probably ruined it, even), your chest heaving to catch your breath.

Sylus let out a low rumble as he wiped your juices off his lips with a thumb and tasted it, looking so sinfully sexy like a forbidden fruit while at it.

“You said... I wouldn't miss you.” He traced one finger on your face with such tenderness. “Now, I'm going to show you, and you'll be judge of it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop?”

If you said no, he would comply. That was the kind of person he was and you knew it. Sylus had always looked out for you since the very beginning, no matter how nonchalant he made himself to be.

“No.” You met his eyes, your voice steady. “Show me.”

It was the only affirmation he needed. He began unbuckling his belt and pants, keeping his unclouded gaze on yours, and soon he too was bare before you.

He was thick and long, and while you had taken him many times, it was never fully easy to ease the intrusion. His tip was already slick with precum, and he spread it along his length.

“You know the rule,” he murmured with a meaningful smile. “If it becomes too much, you scream, and I'll stop.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The sharpness of the stretch seeped into you bit by bit, and you couldn't help but groan.

“—!” A sharp hiss escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside, hitting that sensitive spot. Had your eyes deceived you, or was there a slightly noticeable bulge in your belly from where he was?

Sylus seemed to notice it too, but he folded your knees, spreading you further. His gaze intense and filled with something deep, something possessive. The room seemed to narrow, your entire focus consumed by him as he settled in close.

“Eyes on me, kitten.” He gave you a smile, and with that, he started pounding you—

“Ah, hah, ahhh!” You couldn't stop moaning beneath him as he thrusted into you. The feeling of him so deep inside, coupled with the way you tightened around him, sent waves of blind pleasure through you.

Sylus’ eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he watched you squirm under him. Your skin glistened with the heat of the moment, and the sound of your breaths, frantic and needy, filled the room. His control slipped, just a little, as he pushed deeper, his movements faster, chasing the release that quickly building within both of you.

A pretty mess, his wife is. Your face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as he bred you, and he swore, of everything he had gone through, this look in your face was always worth it.

“Sylus—!” you almost wailed, nails digging into his back, and he growled, knowing full-well that he was finally losing it.

Just like that he shot his cum straight to your womb, his own body shuddering, thoroughly rutting into you. You cried, tears falling from your lashes as you too reached your climax.

Full, too full... Yet you knew that you wouldn't have it another way.

. . .

It felt warm and comforting.

Your eyes fluttered open hours later, and the first thing you noticed was Sylus' sleeping face, and that you were now in the bedroom.

He looked so vulnerable like this. You couldn’t help but be drawn to how serene and unguarded he was, a side of him that only you got to see. Even in his sleep, his arms were wrapped around your waist, as if to protect you from anything that might disturb your rest.

Your lover... and then husband. He was rough around the edges, sometimes didn't make any sense at all, and often reckless enough to burn himself playing with fire.

“You sly crow…” You gazed at his profile, still in awe that this elusive man was your husband.

Sylus was easy to read sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at your earlier doubts about him. How could you not see just how deeply he was attached to you?

Just like the inseparable pair of dragon and sorceress in your dream, you knew you’d stay by his side until the very end.

Out of a playful surge of affection, you tapped his nose, and he grunted softly but didn’t wake, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, seeking more of your warmth. It was cute, how he was so worn out that he sought comfort in your embrace.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then, vowing with everything you had that you’d never let him go, and that with him by your side, you would definitely made this life you shared a happy one.

Several weeks later...

“Thank you, miss!”

The boy bowed his head with a wide grin as soon as you handed him the red pocket money for Linkon New Year. You waved at him, smiling warmly as he skipped away, clutching the envelope in his hands.

The festive occasion inspired you to pay a visit to a nearby orphanage, driven by a desire to share more of the joy and blessings. You brought small gifts and red envelopes, hoping to bring a little light to the children’s lives and make the celebration even more meaningful for them.

Of course, Sylus tagged along too. He was the benefactor, after all.

“Sir, thank you for your generosity.” The headmistress approached Sylus, who looked effortlessly sharp in his red suit, and gave his hand a shake. “The children are really happy with the cupcakes and pocket money.”

He merely chuckled and pointed at you with his chin. “Thank her, my wife is the one with the idea.”

You joined the conversation shortly after, and it didn’t take long for the topic to shift from the orphanage to your personal lives.

“So, do the two of you have plans to start a family soon?” the headmistress asked, her tone warm and curious. “Both of you are still young, and you're so good with kids. Having children of your own might bring even more joy into your lives.”

You mustered a polite laugh, the words to gracefully deflect her comment forming on your lips, when—

“Soon,” Sylus interjected smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. “Very soon, in fact.”

You blinked at him, startled by his bold declaration, while the headmistress’s face lit up with approval. You nudged him discreetly.

As soon as the headmistress went on her way, you turned to him with a frown. “Why would you tell her that?”

Your gaze met his, clear and utterly clueless. Sylus snorted, so tempted to pinch your cheeks, but settling instead for a tender pat on your head.

“You'll see soon enough, sweetie,” he replied, his tone laced with playful mystery.

Epilogue

It was the dead of night when a sudden wave of nausea overtook you. Stumbling out of bed, you rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching up the contents of your stomach.

Your body trembled as you stood, dizziness threatening to topple you. Leaning heavily on the sink for support, you rinsed your mouth, trying to steady yourself. The effort left you shivering, your legs almost buckling beneath you.

Before you could even comprehend the blur in your vision, a pair of strong arms got a hold over you. “S-Sylus...?” you murmured faintly.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms securely as he carried you back to the bedroom, his expression shadowed with concern.

As he settled you onto the bed, he held you close, pressing your face against his bare chest that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt. “Take deep breaths,” he urged softly, his voice grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, letting the familiar warmth of his scent calm your frayed nerves. Slowly, your breathing steadied, though the nausea still lingered in the back of your throat.

“Is it the first time?” he questioned, smoothing your hair. “Have you thrown up before?”

You shook your head. “No... I get dizzy spells but that's it... This is the first time.”

Nausea, dizziness, vomiting. It wasn't hard to piece together what it was. Amidst your dazed thoughts, the realization hit you, and you turned to your husband almost in wonder. “Sylus... a-am I...?”

Sylus broke into a smirk, ruffling your hair. “Told you. I know your period is late.”

Your heart skipped a beat—and it was the only thing you could hear in that moment. The thought that a baby would enter your lives left you briefly speechless.

“Yeah, at the rate we're going, it’s like we’re bunnies,” you quipped sullenly, trying to regain a sense of control as you leaned into his broad chest.

You really thought he would poke fun at you for your highly possible pregnancy, but instead you were taken aback when he pressed a fond, lingering kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, his soft chuckle reverberating through his chest.

And when you found his gaze again, his jewel-like eyes softened into such an extent that made your heart soar.

“Well, aren’t I the luckiest man— having this fair lady be the mother of my child?”

[mitskiiiiii]

ok i wrote this in like 10 minutes it’s kind of ridiculous lol enjoy

Mel had that look on her face. The puppy-that-just-got-its-tail-stepped-on-but-is-being-really-brave-about-it look.

They were working on a pesky case that had turned into a whole family affair. Papa Bear had just gotten hooked up to a breathing machine, and it wasn't looking too good for him.

Frank knew cases like these got Mel down. She'd responded to his last two questions with a blank look, which was extremely out of line with her usual exuberant intelligence, so he was pretty sure this was his cue to take her out in the hall.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Frank asked, tracking her eyes with his own.

"Yes," Mel mumbled, "I'm fine."

Frank shook his head firmly. "No, you're not."

Wincing, Mel pulled at her shirt sleeves and kneaded them hard in her palms. She so clearly wasn't okay; it was ridiculous that she thought he wouldn't be able see right through her.

"How do you relieve stress at home?" Frank asked gently.

He could see her create a mental list. Cute, he thought. "Let's see. Um, I listen to white noise, I talk to Becca, uh, sometimes I clean the kitchen. Or I'll -" then she cut off abruptly and turned bright pink.

She couldn't meet his eyes anymore, so it was pretty obvious what she was about to say. Frank felt the blood rushing in his ears.

"Mel," he articulated slowly, "Do you masturbate When you're stressed?"

"Oh!" Now Mel was fully red. She wrapped her arms around herself like she was trying to disappear into thin air. "Um, yeah? Sometimes. It's— it's a natural stress reliever." Her arms flung out, flailing by her sides.

Frank sucked in a sharp breath. "Okay. Here's what you're gonna do," he said, lowering his voice and leading her a little further down the hall.

"You're gonna go find an empty call room, turn off all the lights, and make yourself feel good." Mel's breath caught. "I'll come find you in 10 minutes. Don't make yourself cum until I find you, okay? Doctor's orders," he grinned when he said the last part. Honestly, he had no clue where all that came from, but Mel's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Okay," Mel nodded vigorously and scampered off like he'd just handed her an exciting new case.

Frank was pretty sure the next ten minutes were the longest of his life. He grit his teeth, unable to focus on his current case, because he couldn't stop thinking about what she could possibly be doing in there.

Did she have fingers inside herself? How many?

Was she focusing on her clit?

Or was she mounting a bed (or a table) and grinding her little cunt against it dry? She was so proper, so professional at work, but who knows what she got up to in private?

He snapped a pencil in frustration. He just had to finish this boring case, and then he could run around like a madman looking for her. God, he hadn't been this horny at an inappropriate time since he discovered jerking off in 6th grade.

Then, like some kind of big hairy angel sent from heaven, Robby approached his station. "Where's Mel? We need her out here."

Frank snapped to attention like a soldier reporting for duty. "I'll find her."

Frank was prowling around the second floor, looking for the new car behind door #3. Finally, one of the call rooms with the lights off at the end of the hall gave him a good feeling. Bingo, he thought. He gently cracked the door.

He couldn't see her but he could hear her. There were little sounds, soft breathy wines coming from somewhere on the floor. Frank almost choked. He couldn't believe she was actually doing it. What an angel, he thought. His hand was shaking as he turned the knob to fully open the door.

"How's it going in here?"

Mel squealed in terror before realizing it was him. She was facedown on the ground, fully clothed and humping a pillow behind the bed. Easier not to get caught that way. He smiled to himself; she was so smart. But he didn't need her to be smart now.

"It's, um, it's good," she squeaked out. She sat up and presented herself on the pillow. "I haven't made myself come yet," she offered. Frank's heart swelled. She'd listened to him.

Frank steadied his breathing. "Perfect. Lie down on your back for me." He was trying to keep his voice level, like how he'd sound when he's talking to a patient.

She got down on her back like he wanted. He moved the pillow out from under her hips to support her head instead. Then he leaned over her with the full length of his body, bracing himself on his forearms so he could really cage her in. His hand went immediately to her crotch to check her progress.

"Jesus," he mumbled. Even her scrub pants were damp.

He stuck his hand down her pants gracelessly and started thumbing firm circles on her clit over her soaked panties.

"Is that what you usually do at home? You hump your pillow?" Frank asked, curious.

"Sometimes," Mel breathed. "It's easier. No cleanup."

"Do you ever—,” he slipped a finger into her without warning, “—put anything inside yourself?"

Mel gasped at the intrusion. "Not. Not often. It's hard to get—," she was interrupted by an aborted cry as he added another finger and twisted, "—the right angle, oh my gosh!"

He chuckled a little. "Yeah? Like this one? You can't hit that spot by yourself?"

"No, ah, I can't!" Mel whined, squirming under him.

"How many— fuck — fingers can you fit?" Frank said as he added one more, curling them deep inside her until he felt that little ridge. She seemed to be taking them no problem; she was probably slick enough right now for his cock to slide right in.

"I— please, I can't answer any more questions, Dr. Langdon, I— I'm so sorry I—,” Mel choked out.

That's fine, baby," Frank assured as he pressed in deeper. "Don't sweat it. You're doing so well. Just lie back and take it, okay?"

Mel nodded, blinking tears out of her eyes. He found that little ridge again and massaged it hard and fast with three long fingers. She was a mess of little breathy moans and whines now, but they were still so restrained. He found it adorable that she didn't want to get caught, but he wished he could get some louder sounds out of her.

"You're not stressed anymore right?" Frank asked, like he was checking with a patient to see if a treatment was helping. Mel shook her head.

"Perfect, baby. You'll be able to come back to work good as new." His voice was soft as he drilled her.

She was arching her back prettily beneath him, trying to grind up onto his hand. He cursed. He wished more than anything that he could lift up hert-shirt and get a look at her tits, but unfortunately he had to use his other arm to hold himself up. His own erection was also getting pretty hard to ignore. He grinded his cock lightly in circles against her hip, trying to ease the ache.

Mel was almost there; Frank could tell. An even darker red was blooming across her cheeks and her breathing was getting more and more labored. That pretty mouth of hers formed a perfect circle. He put his thumb back on her clit, pressing it down flat and firm, which finally got a real moan out of her.

"I need you in good shape out there. You're my best resident. And don't tell anyone—,” He leaned in real close so that his lips brushed against her ear, "— but you're my favorite."

Those were the magic words. With a broken cry, Mel clenched around his fingers like a vice and there came another rush of wetness from her cunt. She had a couple of full-body spasms as she rode it out, clutching tightly at his biceps.

When her whole body had turned loose and boneless he took his fingers out of her and casually wiped them on his scrubs.

"Feel better?" Frank asked.

Mel caught her breath and got up, adjusting her clothes. "Much. Thank you, Dr. Langdon. You're a really good teacher." There were stars in her eyes as she gave Frank a winning smile.

He almost came in his pants at the sight.

As she started to make her way out the door, Frank gave her an encouraging tap on the ass. "Get back out there, champ."

Mel jumped a little and then nodded dreamily and headed back into the fray.

Now Frank was out in the ambulance bay, thinking about exploratory laparotomies and praying for his cock to go soft. Mel's voice was still echoing in his head, you're such a good teacher. He banged his head against the brick wall a few times for good measure. Fuck me, he thought. This might take a while.

epilogue ~

Robby walked in on Mel riding him in the same call room a week later.

"Jesus, Frank. You said you were mentoring her."

"I am! She— she was stressed and I was just trying to help! It's the only thing that calms her down!"

"You're married!"

Frank just shrugged.

The next morning Robby put in his two week notice. He was getting too old for this shit.

ummmm frank seeing that mel needs a break and telling her to go in one of the call rooms and touch herself until he comes to get her and finish her off. he’s still married and they haven’t even kissed at this point btw.

[fragmentedblade]

I hate that when I look up the "Kalpas" tag here there's me and then there's me again, but on another blog. Fake moustache me

[webslinger-holland]

Busy Woman | Bob Reynolds from Thunderbolts

Summary: She's always busy and he thinks she doesn't notice him, but she does.

Warning: NSFW smut 18+ minors DNI, mutual pining, slow burn, teasing and flirting, sexual tension and eventual smut, mentions of nudity, some language, fem!receiving, praise, unprotected sex, p in v, just saying...I've warned you, listened to too much Sabrina Carpenter and got inspired

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.9 k

Type: Oneshot

One thing was certain: Bob Reynolds was not a morning person. He hated seeing the early sunlight leaking through the curtains and dreaded getting out of bed every morning. But he recently learned something...

She was a morning person.

And that's what got him out of bed in the morning.

Sometimes, Bob woke up before everyone else in the tower. He'd grab his keys and go out to a local coffee shop just to get her something. By the time Bob got back, he would find her hunched over the kitchen island, reading a debrief file, and enjoying a donut.

He was nervous to approach her; something about her made him not really know how to act around her. He timidly set down the special drink he ordered for her, sliding it closer to her and retracting his hand quickly as if he feared she'd bite him like a wild animal.

Very slowly, Y/n tore her gaze away from the file in front of her and to the plastic to-go cup of coffee in front of her. Her eyes drifted upwards until they found the socially awkward boy standing in front of her.

“Did you get up early just to bring me this?” She knew. Of course she knew. She always knows.

“I was already up,” Bob mumbled, which was a lie. A huge lie. He’d set three alarms.

Accepting the drink, Y/n kept her gaze locked on him and was curious if he'd break under the pressure. “That right?”

He nodded too quickly and avoided her eyes as if they were burning. “Yeah. I— uh— I like walking in the morning.”

She hummed and glanced back down at the file. She brought the drink to her lips. “You didn’t poison this, did you?” she asked casually, as if it were a normal thing to say before sunrise.

Bob shook his head innocently.

"Good," Y/n smiled at him appreciatively. The look alone caused him to blush and his heart threatened to break out of his chest.

“I—It’s a caramel macchiato!” Bob blurted, louder than he meant to. He was just desperate to keep her attention on him. She looked back up at him with the tiniest smile on her face. He faltered under her watch. "W—With an extra shot...of...espresso."

"Is it just a coincidence that you know my coffee order?" Y/n wondered curiously.

He cleared his throat and tried to sound normal. “You… mentioned it once.”

That got a smile out of her—a small one, but a real one. One that made his heart leap so high.

She eventually redirected her attention back down to the file like nothing serious happened. Bob could feel the heat rising in his face. He wanted to say something else, anything, but his mind was just white noise. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck—a nervous habit, one he was sure she’d noticed by now. Then Bucky entered the room.

“There he is,” Bucky announced with an all knowing smirk, swiftly moving through the kitchen. “You're up early today. Out fetching coffee again?”

Bob groaned softly and backed away from the counter.

“You fetch hers too?” Bucky glanced between them, then grinned. “Of course you did.”

She didn’t say anything—just kept reading, totally unfazed. And Bob stared at Bucky unamused.

"You didn't bring us back anything?" Bucky looked offended and searched around as if expecting his coffee order to just magically appear.

This was something that Bob was teased about constantly by the team because all of them knew about the crush he harbored on her. He ultimately didn't want to have to explain his reasons to Bucky of all people, so he opted to leave the room.

But as Bob turned to leave, she glanced up again. Not with a smile this time, but with a thoughtful sort of look.

Like she was waiting.

The rest of the team was scattered around the base—except Bob, who was just walking and hoping he'd find something to get his attention. He didn't have a real destination, but he might have secretly hoped he'd run into her in the process.

Spotting her open bedroom door just ahead, Bob straightened his back in posture. He walked past her room, glanced inside, and continued on. Then he froze like he’d hit a wall when he realized what he just witnessed.

The lights were soft, the window cracked open. A breeze fluttered the curtains slightly. And there she was—laying on her bed, reading a book. Bare legs behind her and feet hanging over her back given that she was on her stomach. She looked completely at ease.

Just like bees to honey, Bob did a double take and backed up—slowly, quietly—just to get another glimpse of her laying there. He wasn’t even being subtle about it.

Hovering in the doorway, Bob awkwardly placed his hand on the doorframe. She was reading with her head propped on her hand, glasses sliding slightly down her nose. She looked so relaxed; she hadn’t noticed him at all.

Which, for some reason, made him ache a little.

“Hey,” he offered, voice hoarse and soft.

She glanced up, then smiled a little when she saw him. “Hey, Bob.”

He stared for one second too long. And then another. The silence stretched between them like taut wire.

“Did you need something?” she asked, brushing her hair back behind her ear.

"Yes—I mean no. I was just—passing by." His voice cracked. He cleared it and stood straighter. “I was, uh… going somewhere.”

"Where?" Y/n pressed.

Bob blinked, fiddling nervously. “Somewhere... not here.”

She smiled—lazy, amused. "Well. I wouldn't want to stop you from your very important mission."

His mouth opened and then closed. The gears in his head were grinding so hard, he could practically hear the smoke. She was doing that thing again—talking to him like she knew. Like he was a deer and she was just waiting to see if he’d bolt.

"R—Right," Bob's words caught up with his thoughts. He blinked twice and awkwardly shuffled away from the door. "Guess I'll get out of your hair then."

Her gaze found the page she left off on, still unfazed. "Have fun."

As Bob disappeared down the hallway, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, Y/n let a small smirk tug at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t look up from her book, but she didn’t keep reading either.

About once a week, Alexei prided himself in making a big hearty breakfast just for the boys with claims of them needing to spend time together as men. He served every kind of protein imaginable: bacon, sausage, eggs, ham, even steak once. He’d sometimes take requests—except waffles.

Bob had asked for them once.

Alexei had looked him dead in the eye and said, “Waffles are for children and men who fear chewing. I make you meat instead.”

And Bob obediently ate the ham served that day.

The three of them seated at the kitchen island. Bob sat with a fork in hand, picking at a pile of food he didn’t remember asking for and mindlessly thinking about her. Meanwhile, Walker was already halfway through his plate, Bucky was drinking a black coffee, and Alexei was flipping something massive in a cast iron pan over the stove like it owed him rent.

“Eat,” Alexei barked when Bob just poked at a sausage link. He promptly slapped two more onto his plate without asking. “You need more protein; women like men with muscle."

"She knows, guys,” Bob groaned, changing the subject. “She definitely knows.”

"Knows what?" Alexei glanced between John and Bucky like they'd left him out of a group chat. "I do not know. Who knows what?"

"Of course she knows," Bucky proceeded to lower his coffee. "You're not exactly subtle about it—bringing her coffee, walking past her room, turning into a tomato every time she so much as breathes in your direction."

"Ah, you mean her," Alexei connected the dots because even he saw how he looked at her.

"He’s hopelessly in love with her, but won't say anything." Bucky announced.

“She’s too busy for me anyway,” Bob mumbled, shoulders hunched. “She’s got stuff going on. Important stuff.”

John snorted. “That’s your excuse now?”

“She’s literally everywhere,” Bob said, throwing up a hand. “Working out, reading briefings, sparring—like, I’m supposed to just waltz up and flirt while she’s in the middle of combat training?”

“You already do everything but flirt,” Bucky pointed out and John agreed. “You bring her coffee, open doors for her, wait for her to finish meetings just so you can walk the same direction."

Alexei grinned. “He is soft for her.”

"I’m not soft—" Bob sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “She doesn’t even notice me.”

“Oh, she notices,” John said with a smirk. “She’s just pretending not to, which is way worse.”

“I can’t just say something,” Bob muttered. “What if it ruins everything? What if she laughs at me?”

“She won't laugh," John said confidently.

"And we’re not judging," Bucky added. "We’ve all been there. Someone cold, deadly, completely out of your league—”

“Whose out of whose league?”

All heads snapped toward the hallway.

There she stood. In absolutely nothing, but a towel.

Her hair damp, held up loosely in a messy bun. Her skin flushed pink from the hot shower. Her body glistened in the light, littered with small specks of water still. The towel hugged her body like it had been custom-measured to torment Bob specifically—just enough to cover, far too little to handle.

No makeup. Barefoot. And utterly unbothered. Just looking the picture of innocence.

When Bob saw her, he could have sworn his soul left his body.

The room went dead silent.

She couldn't really read the room, just noticed four stunned, absolutely useless men just staring at her like she’d walked in wearing fire.

She raised a brow. “Did I… interrupt something?”

“Nope,” John said, way too fast. “Just guy talk. Carry on. Totally normal.”

“You’re… uh… wet,” Bob blurted, mortified instantly.

She looked down at herself, then back up, amused. “Yes, Bob. That’s generally what happens when you shower.”

He made a small, broken noise that might have been a whimper.

"Just carry on. I'm not even here," Y/n waved off. She moved across the room and made her way over to the refrigerator, oblivious to the sets of eyes that tracked her movements.

The towel swayed. Bob’s jaw tightened. His face went red, then pink, then red again. His hand subtly shifted under the table as he sat up straighter, panicking slightly.

Spotting her peach yogurt, Y/n bend forward just enough to reach the back. The towel hitching up just high enough to give any of them far too much hope.

Each of them react different.

While Bucky sported a wolfish grin, he didn’t even try to look away. His eyes lingered—appreciative, amused, and entirely unbothered by what was clearly a nuclear-level distraction. He leaned back in his chair like he was settling in for the best part of the morning.

His lips curved. He was definitely tempted to whistle.

“Damn,” he muttered with a low chuckle. “Morning just got a whole lot better.”

Walker was mid-bite when he saw her. One second he was chewing toast, the next—he choked so hard he had to thump his chest to recover. He reached for his mug like it was a tactical maneuver, taking a long, steadying sip of black coffee. His eyes shamelessly watched her every move.

Walker murmured under his breath, “Sweet mother of—"

Next, Alexei is the only one unbothered by her actions. Instead, he finds pleasure in watching the other's reactions, smiling wildly like he was enjoying his favorite show on tv.

“Is very fun to watch strong men crumble,” Alexei commented cheerfully, sipping from his own mug and enjoying every second of this.

Especially Bob's reaction. That’s when things got really good. Because Bob was gone.

Frozen. Stuck. Statuesque.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t move.

“Ohmygod—” Bob choked, barely above a whisper. He slammed his eyes shut like he could unsee what had just happened. He tried to focus on his breathing.

He cursed under his breath like he was fighting to keep it all together.

He keeps telling himself in his head: “Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t—too late.”

Withdrawing from the fridge, Y/n successfully closed the door and spun around on the heels of her feet. She held up the yogurt cup and was handed a spoon by Alexei. Peeling back the foil and dipping the spoon into the yogurt, Y/n brought the spoon up to her mouth and savored the first bite.

Her gaze flicked across them casually, but then landed—lingered—on Bob.

Her brows knit slightly. “Something wrong?”

The others were no help at all. Because John was hiding a smirk behind his cup and Bucky watched the interaction with the widest, all-knowing smirk on his face. And all the while, Bob was struggling to breathe.

Bob finally managed something that resembled speech.

“N-No,” he croaked. “Nope. All good.”

She blinked. “You sure?”

Bob nodded. Too quickly. “Yeah. Great. Perfect. Totally normal morning. Nothing weird at all.”

“Okay.” She turned and walked off, towel swaying with every step like she was floating. Everyone's gazes trailed after her as if wanting to commit the image to memory. "If you need anything from me, just ask!"

They heard the door of her room shut softly. They huddled together to speak in harsh whispers.

"Why didn't you say anything to her?" Bucky spoke first.

“She was wearing a towel,” Bob whisper-yelled. “What was I supposed to do—confess my love while she’s practically naked?!?!”

John, still gripping his coffee like a lifeline, muttered, “I would’ve.”

Alexei shrugged. “You were supposed to suffer in silence. Like the rest of us.”

"Didn't you hear what she said?" Bucky brought their attention back and Bob looked confused like he'd missed something important. “She said if you need anything, just ask—that was an invitation,”

"What?" Bob asked, clearly not interpreting it the same way.

“She basically dared you to say something.” Bucky pointed out.

Bob groaned in frustration, dragging both hands over his face. Feeling like it was another missed opportunity. “But if I say something now, it’ll be weird."

“I don’t think she’s the one uncomfortable,” John said, not even pretending to hide his grin.

"That's what I'm saying! She knows, definitely knows. And it amuses her. She's messing with me," Bob threw his hands up in slight defeat.

"Ah, but you like it.” Bucky said flatly.

“…I do.” Bob confessed timidly.

"Just don't get too excited there, sunshine." John remarked. John’s gaze dropped—and Bob followed it, his stomach dropping.

And Bob immediately slapped his hands on the table, desperate to block any view of his pants. He felt his face turning pure crimson in color; the others only chuckling in amusement.

The base was mostly quiet in the evening. The lights were dimmed and the place had a soft hum from something far off like white noise in the background. Everyone just about in for the night.

All except Bob who found himself wandering the dark hallways aimlessly. He slowed down as he neared her open door, being curious about why it was still open this late. Peering inside, Bob found her sitting on her bed with legs curled beneath her. She absentmindedly stared out the window, admiring the city lights. The faint glow lit up her face, soft and calm.

Bob hovered in the doorway for a moment too long, rehearsing a dozen things in his head before any of them made it to his mouth.

She noticed him, but didn’t turn. “You’re not great at sneaking up, you know that, right?”

He stepped inside sheepishly. “I wasn’t trying to sneak. Just… trying to find the right moment.”

“That so?” She finally looked at him, her expression unreadable but clearly open. “Is this it?”

Bob hesitated. “I—uh—guess it has to be.”

He stood awkwardly in front of her bed, wringing his hands together as if the action would put him to ease. She watched him in anticipation, waiting for him to just come out and say it. She didn't even know that she held her breath.

“You’re probably too busy for this. For me," Bob said. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Too busy for what, exactly?” That seemed to get her attention.

“I don’t know. For… whatever this is. I mean, I’ve been trying not to make it weird, but it probably already is weird. You’re always working and focused and—God, I sound like a lunatic—” Bob wanted to cower into himself.

“Bob.” She stood up right in front of him.

He stopped. His eyes met hers. He searched for something, really anything that could have been mistaken as a hint. Rejection or acceptance.

"I already told you: If you want something,” she said gently, “all you have to do is ask.”

The silence stretched between them. He opened his mouth and closed it, desperately trying to gather his courage. She waited for him patiently, not pushing him past discomfort. And then:

“I want you.”

Her lips curved into a quiet smile of satisfaction. As if she’d been waiting exactly for this.

"There it is," Y/n accepted.

Bob didn’t answer—at least, not with words.

Any space between them was quickly closed. His hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as his mouth crashed into hers, finally giving in to everything he’d been holding back.

She met him halfway, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. There was no gentleness in it, not at first—just hunger, urgency, months of glances and tension and unsaid things pouring out in one sharp breath.

Her hands found his shoulders, his back, tugging him in like she’d been waiting just as long because she truly had. She guided him toward the bed, slow and steady, letting him follow her lead.

Their clothes began to slip away piece by piece until there was nothing left to shed. His hands finally rose, gently framing her waist like she might vanish. Then his palms slid up—slowly—over her ribs, along her back, until she was pressed against him, chest to chest.

He lifted her without a word, carrying her the rest of the way to the bed, and laying her down like something sacred. When she laid back and pulled him over her, he hovered for a breathless second and searched for any sign of wanting to stop all this.

Her legs shifted, opening just enough to let him settle between them. She weaved her fingers through his brown locks of hair, drawing a soft moan from his lips. He whispered her name like a damn prayer.

"I've waited so long for you," she breathed. He kissed his way down her stomach slowly and worshipfully. Her thighs trembled under his touch and he gently coaxed them open to accommodate his shoulders.

When his mouth finally found her—hot, desperate—she gasped his name and arched against him. Her voice breaking on every syllable, but he desperately needed to taste her. He took his time with her.

Because he wanted to memorize every moan, every whimper, every shake of her legs around his shoulders.

Her hands gripped at whatever they could find—his hair, the sheets beneath them, even his shoulder—as he worked her over with patient intensity. His tongue worked eagerly, drawing every last drop of sweetness she had to offer him.

When she came undone, it was with a cry that echoed off the walls and he held her through it.

She was still catching her breath when he kissed his way back up, slow and reverent, like he was savoring the aftermath. Her fingers tangled in his hair again, pulling him toward her until their mouths met—hot and hungry this time, tasting the want between them.

“Bob,” she whispered against his lips, and that alone nearly undid him.

He groaned low in his throat, like he couldn’t contain it anymore. “Say that again.”

She did—his name soft, broken, beautiful—and it lit something inside him. He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to catch his breath, but the way her hands ran down his back and dug into his skin left him trembling. That was all it took.

The last of his control broke. He kissed her hard, needy. She arched into him, nails leaving little red trails down his back, her legs curling around him to pull him even closer.

His body trembled with restraint, every muscle tight with need as he hovered just above her, their breaths mingling in the space between.

Her legs tightened around his waist, heels pressing into his back, urging him closer. "Bob..." she whispered, her voice a shiver in the dark. "Don't make me wait any longer."

He swallowed hard, eyes locked to hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. His thumb caressed the edge of her jaw, slow and reverent. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she promised. “You’re already everything I want.”

He kissed her again—deeper this time, like he needed it to breathe and his hips slowly rolled forward. Their bodies aligning in a way that stole both their breaths.

Careful to draw himself back out partially, Bob thrusted and moved deliberately. He was too busy feeling the tension in her thighs, the way her fingers flexed against his back, and the way her breath caught in her throat when he rocked his hips just right. His name slipped from her lips again.

“God,” he groaned into her neck, barely holding himself together. “You feel… oh, God… so good.”

"Then don’t stop,” she whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of skin slapping together. She tried meeting his thrusts. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And Bob didn’t.

He moved with aching slowness, letting the tension coil tighter, letting it drag out—each motion deeper, more desperate, more consuming. Until they were both trembling from the force of it, completely lost in each other.

The sound of their bodies moving together filled the room, slow and rhythmic, a symphony of want and wonder.

He stole a glance downward—just once—and the sight nearly undid him. The way they moved together, how perfectly she welcomed him, how her body responded like it had always been meant for his. A quiet curse escaped his lips, and he dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing hard.

“You… you’re everything.”

She turned her head, lips brushing against his temple, her voice breathless. She corrected him. “I’m yours.”

That did something to him. He gripped her tighter, forehead pressed to hers, his rhythm faltering only because he was overwhelmed—by her, by the way she looked at him, by the way she whispered his name like he was her only tether.

They could feel it building, that tight pull low in their stomachs, coiling tighter with every movement, every breathless sound that spilled from the other.

“Bob—” she gasped, her voice trembling, wrecked with need. “I’m… I’m so close—”

“I’ve got you,” his own voice rough and unsteady. “Come with me.”

His hand slid down between them, finding the spot that made her cry out. Her walls clenched around him as her body seized beneath him, and that was all it took.

She broke first—back arched, head thrown back, breath catching in a stuttering moan of his name. And as he felt her fall apart around him, he followed—his own release ripping through him in a wave so sharp and overwhelming he could barely breathe.

They held onto each other through it—through the trembling, through the gasping, through the aftershocks that left them both reeling.

And still, he held her like he was afraid to let go. Because now that he had her, he never wanted to stop.

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