#1) some mild performance issues

[realian]

Until Dawn came out almost ten years ago.

[julietsf1]

Factory Reset - Franco Colapinto x Engineer!Reader

summary: After a major crash, Franco Colapinto is sent to the Williams factory to work alongside the engineers repairing his car. Tensions run high as he’s forced to confront the realities of their work and the sharp wit of performance engineer Y/N. What begins as a clash of worlds becomes an eye-opening experience for both. (6k words)

content: overconfident Franco; smart but salty Y/N; 3rd person POV; written by someone who doesn't know much about engineering lol it's the vibes that count innit

an: Sorry for disappearing cuties! I had some unexpected work obligations but will be uploading all my WIPs today! thanks for sticking around <3

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The tension in the Williams Racing debrief room was almost as palpable as the screeching halt Franco Colapinto’s car had come to in Las Vegas. The crash had been spectacularly disastrous, with debris scattered across the strip like confetti. And now, here he was, summoned not to a glamorous event or strategy meeting but to a mandatory visit to the Williams factory in Grove. Franco couldn’t remember the last time he felt this much dread walking into a building.

James Vowles stood at the head of the room, his usual calm demeanor carrying an edge of authority that demanded attention.

“We’re implementing a new initiative,” James began, his sharp eyes darting between Franco and the engineers gathered. “To strengthen team spirit and accountability. After a crash like the one in Vegas and our previous years with many crashes, it’s crucial to recognize that Formula 1 isn’t just about what happens on track. It’s also about the people who make it all possible behind the scenes.”

Franco leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He wasn’t a fan of the lecture tone, but he wasn’t about to interrupt.

“This initiative,” James continued, “involves drivers spending time at the factory. Working alongside the team. Seeing firsthand the hours, the sweat, and the dedication it takes to repair the damages—damages that fall under the cost cap.”

There it was. The thinly veiled jab. Franco sat up straighter, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sure we all agree,” James said with a smile that wasn’t entirely warm, “this will benefit everyone. Franco, you’ll spend the next three days with us here in Grove.”

The engineers in the room exchanged glances. Some smirked, others looked indifferent, but one person in particular didn’t even bother to mask her displeasure. Y/N, one of the team’s senior performance engineers, leaned back in her chair, arms folded, with an expression that screamed, “Of course it’s him.”

Franco noticed her immediately. He’d seen her around the garage before but had never exchanged more than a brief nod. Now, as her steely eyes bore into him, he felt the weight of the animosity she clearly didn’t bother to hide.

“Any questions?” James asked, breaking the silence.

Franco raised a hand half-heartedly. “Yeah. What exactly am I supposed to do for three days?”

James smiled, his tone sharper than the words themselves. “Learn.”

…

The hum of machinery filled the Williams factory, a symphony of clanging metal, whirring drills, and distant chatter. Franco stood awkwardly at the edge of the main floor, dressed in a team-issued polo and jeans, feeling painfully out of place. Engineers bustled past him with purpose, pushing carts laden with parts or gesturing at detailed schematics. Everyone seemed to know where they were going—everyone but him.

Y/N emerged from a row of workstations, a tablet tucked under her arm and a look of mild irritation on her face. Her presence was commanding, despite her relatively small stature among the towering racks and machinery. When she spotted Franco, her expression tightened further, as if this entire ordeal was a personal inconvenience.

“Right,” she said, stopping in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Franco raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel welcome.”

Y/N didn’t bite. Instead, she thrust the tablet toward him. “Here’s your schedule for the day. You’ll shadow me for the morning. Try to keep up.”

“Keep up?” Franco smirked, taking the tablet. “I’m an F1 driver. I think I can manage.”

She didn’t even look back as she turned on her heel. “We’ll see.”

The morning was a whirlwind of tasks that Franco barely understood. Y/N walked him through the telemetry department, where engineers analyzed data from his car. The lead analyst, a middle-aged man named Paul, greeted Y/N warmly but barely spared Franco a glance.

“So this is the data from Vegas,” Y/N said, pulling up a graph on one of the monitors. “See these spikes here? That’s where you oversteered.”

Franco squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the jagged lines. “Okay, but in my defense, the rear was completeshit by that point.”

Y/N shot him a sharp look. “In your defense? Do you know how much work it took to rebuild the floor after that?”

Paul cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. “It’s not all bad,” he interjected. “We did get some valuable data—”

“Valuable data doesn’t fix a wrecked car,” Y/N cut him off, her eyes still on Franco. “Next time, maybe don’t treat the car like it’s disposable.”

Franco clenched his jaw. He was used to criticism from team principals or the media, but this felt different—more personal. “I don’t crash on purpose, you know,” he muttered.

Y/N turned back to the screen. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The tour continued through the machine shop, where technicians were crafting replacement parts, and the aerodynamics lab, where wind tunnel models were being adjusted. Franco noticed that while most people greeted Y/N with respect, their reactions to him ranged from polite nods to outright indifference.

By the time they reached the assembly area, Franco was bristling with frustration. “Is everyone here always this friendly, or is it just me?”

Y/N glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “They’re busy. Unlike you, they don’t have time to play the victim.”

Franco stopped walking, forcing her to turn around. “What’s your problem with me?”

“My problem?” Y/N folded her arms, her voice low but pointed. “You think this team exists to make you look good on Sundays. But for us, this is our life. Every crash, every mistake, it’s hours of extra work. Late nights. Missed weekends. Let alone you blaming it all on the car every time. So yeah, excuse me if I’m not rolling out the red carpet for you.”

Franco opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he fell silent and followed her as she led him to the next department.

The afternoon brought more hands-on tasks. Y/N handed Franco a wrench and pointed to a disassembled gearbox. “Think you can manage this?”

“Depends,” Franco said, inspecting the gearbox. “What’s the record time for putting one of these together?”

“This isn’t a race,” Y/N snapped, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Franco worked diligently, occasionally asking questions that Y/N grudgingly answered. By the end of the day, the gearbox was reassembled, and Franco felt a small sense of accomplishment—though Y/N didn’t offer any praise.

As they packed up, Franco noticed her pause by one of the workbenches, her expression softening as she examined a photo taped to the wall. It showed a younger Y/N during her internship at McLaren, laughing with Daniel Ricciardo and Lando Norris.

“You worked at McLaren?” Franco asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N nodded without looking at him. “Internship during uni. Best year of my life.”

“Let me guess,” Franco said. “You were one of Danny Ric’s ‘shoey’ victims?”

Y/N laughed, a sound that surprised them both. “Only once. But it was worth it.”

For a moment, the tension between them eased. Then Y/N’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “Back to reality. See you tomorrow, Colapinto.”

As she walked away, Franco found himself smiling despite himself. 

…

The second day at the Williams factory was already shaping up to be a long one. Franco arrived earlier than expected, determined not to let Y/N accuse him of slacking off. The factory came alive with distant murmur of conversations slowly filling the space. He leaned against the telemetry lab doorframe, holding a cup of coffee that smelled like it had been brewed by an engineer experimenting with car oil, waiting for Y/N to show up.

When she finally appeared, cradling a steaming cup of tea and glancing down at her tablet, Franco couldn’t help himself. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Y/N looked up, unimpressed. “You’re early. Trying to win points or just lost?”

“Maybe I just enjoy our morning chats,” Franco replied, grinning over the rim of his coffee cup. “Your warmth really sets the tone for the day.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement behind her usual sharpness. “If sarcasm counts as effort, you’re doing great.”

The morning routine started where the conversation with Paul had left off the previous day: telemetry analysis. Franco was seated in the simulator cockpit while Y/N pulled up detailed graphs of his Vegas laps, pointing out each mistake with the precision of a scalpel.

“See this spike here?” she said, her finger hovering over the screen. “That’s where you decided braking wasn’t necessary.”

“I didn’t decide that,” Franco countered, leaning forward to study the data. “The rear was loose, and I had to adjust—”

“You overcompensated,” Y/N interrupted, highlighting another section. “Instead of making a gradual adjustment, you panicked. A car doesn’t respond well to panic.”

Franco frowned, leaning back in the seat. “I didn’t panic.”

Y/N turned to face him, her gaze piercing. “You’re telling me plowing into the barrier was part of the plan?”

For a moment, Franco stared at her, at a complete loss for words. Then he laughed, the tension easing slightly. “You know, you’d make a great drill sergeant.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said dryly, though the faintest hint of a smirk played on her lips.

By lunchtime, Franco had decided to stop avoiding the canteen drama and instead followed Y/N to her usual table. She sat with a group of engineers, all engaged in animated conversation about the latest updates to the floor design. Franco tried to follow along, but the technical jargon quickly became overwhelming.

“You look lost,” Y/N said, leaning toward him. Her voice was low enough that only he could hear. “Too many big words?”

Franco smirked, stealing a chip from her tray. “Just biding my time. Waiting for you to talk about something interesting.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop him from taking another chip. “Bold move.”

“I can be bold,” he said, popping the chip into his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward, betraying her amusement.

…

At four o’clock sharp Y/N stood by the sideline of the nearby paddle court, tapping her racket against her leg and scanning the group of engineers gathering for the weekly game. It was her favorite way to let off steam after a long week - competitive enough to keep her engaged but lighthearted enough to remind her that work wasn’t everything.

“Where’s Ethan?” someone asked, voicing the question on her mind.

Y/N’s usual partner was nowhere to be seen. A quick check of her phone confirmed it: Ethan had bailed last-minute with a text about a migraine and a sincere promise to make it up to her next week.

“Great,” Y/N muttered under her breath. Without a partner, she’d be sitting this one out.

“Problem?” Franco’s voice cut through the crowd, his grin as smug as ever as he leaned against the court’s railing.

Y/N turned to him, crossing her arms. “Ethan flaked. No partner, no game.”

“Shame,” Franco said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “Guess you’ll just have to cheer from the sidelines.”

Y/N glared at him, but before she could retort, he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Or,” he continued, “I could step in. You know, save the day.”

She snorted, looking him up and down. “You? Save my day?”

“Hey,” Franco said, grabbing a spare paddle from the bench. “I’m more coordinated than I look.”

“That’s a low bar,” Y/N shot back, but her lips twitched as if suppressing a smile.

“You need a partner,” Franco said, spinning the paddle in his hand. “I’m offering. Unless you’re too scared I’ll outplay you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the thought of sitting out was more annoying than the idea of teaming up with him. “Fine,” she said, pointing at him with her paddle. “But if you screw this up, I’m never letting you live it down.”

The first few minutes were rocky. Franco’s confidence far outstripped his paddle skills, and Y/N found herself darting across the court to cover his missed volleys.

“Are you actually trying?” she called after him when he completely whiffed a return.

“Relax,” Franco said, jogging back to his position. “I’m just warming up.”

“You better warm up fast, I have a competition ranking to keep up,” she snapped, returning a wicked shot from their opponents.

But to her surprise, Franco adjusted quickly. His natural athleticism took over, and soon he was diving for impossible shots and landing them with a flourish that almost made Y/N forget his rough start.

“Not bad,” she admitted after he scored their first point with a sharp return.

“Not bad?” Franco said, feigning offense. “That was textbook genius.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips.

As the match progressed, Y/N found herself enjoying their unlikely partnership. Franco’s energy was infectious, and his relentless determination to win made her laugh more than once.

“Nice shot!” he shouted after one of her perfectly placed lobs.

“Thanks,” she replied, her voice tinged with mock sweetness. “Try not to ruin it.”

“I’m carrying this team,” Franco said, panting as he prepared for the next serve.

“Only thing you’re carrying is that big head of yours,” Y/N muttered, but the teasing tone softened her words.

At some point, a stray ball sailed out of the court, bouncing into the parking lot. Franco volunteered to fetch it, jogging off while Y/N leaned against the net to catch her breath.

James Vowles strolled over from the sidelines, hands in his pockets and a wide smile on his face.

“Not bad out there,” James said, nodding toward the court. “You’ve got Franco moving, at least.”

Y/N laughed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “He’s not as useless as I thought. Still reckless, though.”

James chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “You know, it’s good to see him having fun. It’s been a rough season—rookie pressure and all that. Moments like this are rare for him.”

Y/N glanced toward Franco, who was bent over retrieving the ball. His usual bravado seemed lighter today, less forced. She’d never thought about how intense the pressure must be for him.

“He hides it well,” Y/N said softly.

James nodded, still smiling. “He does. Sometimes I forget how young he still is.”

When Franco jogged back onto the court, tossing the ball into the air with a cocky grin, Y/N felt a twinge of sympathy she hadn’t expected.

“Ready?” Franco called, positioning himself for the next serve.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Y/N replied, her voice softer than before.

Franco’s serve caught her off guard. It was precise and powerful, skimming the net and clipping the edge of the line.

“Nice serve,” Y/N said, the words escaping before she could think better of them.

Franco froze mid-smile. “Did you just compliment me?”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said quickly, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks.

The rest of the match passed in a blur of fast volleys and laughter. Y/N found herself encouraging Franco more often, and he responded by playing even better, his confidence growing with every point.

By the time they won—21 to 17—they were both breathless and grinning.

“Good game,” Franco said, holding out his hand.

Y/N shook it, her grip firm. “Not terrible.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as glowing praise,” Franco said, his grin widening.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, though her tone was more teasing than cutting.

As the match wrapped up and the court cleared, Y/N crouched down to zip her bag, her mind still buzzing with the game’s energy. She couldn’t help but replay the last few points in her head—the unexpected precision of Franco’s serve, the way he’d thrown himself into every volley, and, perhaps most surprising, how well they’d worked together. It wasn’t something she’d anticipated when she grudgingly let him join her earlier.

Franco, standing a few feet away, adjusted the strap of his bag and hesitated. He glanced at Y/N, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. Instead, his expression was softer, more sincere, as though he was wrestling with what to say.

“Thanks for letting me play,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. It wasn’t just a throwaway comment—it carried a weight Y/N hadn’t expected.

She paused, straightening up and meeting his gaze. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Franco wasn’t looking at her with his usual smirk or playful glint. There was something vulnerable in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen before. Gratitude, maybe, or relief.

I should be thanking you,” she said simply, her tone gentler than usual.

Franco blinked, as though her words had surprised him, and for the first time since he’d arrived at the factory, he looked almost shy. He nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stepping closer.

��Seriously,” he added, his voice a little firmer now. “I needed that. It’s been… a lot lately. You didn’t have to let me join, but you did. So, thanks.”

Y/N studied him, her sharp instincts catching the subtle way his shoulders relaxed, the way he shifted his weight like he wasn’t used to opening up. This wasn’t the brash rookie who crashed cars and cracked jokes at every opportunity. This was someone who carried more than he let on—someone who, despite his flaws, was trying.

Her reply came almost automatically, her voice softer than she expected. “Well, don’t let it go to your head.”

But there was no edge to her words this time, no undercurrent of sarcasm. It was the kind of teasing that felt less like a wall and more like an olive branch.

For the first time, she didn’t see him as just the reckless rookie who kept wrecking her hard work. He was something more—someone navigating a high-pressure world, someone trying to find his place just like everyone else. And, Y/N realized, he wasn’t half-bad at it when he let himself breathe.

Franco smiled—an easy, genuine smile that lit up his face in a way that was, dare she admit it, a little endearing. “Careful,” he said, his tone regaining its usual playfulness. “Keep this up, and I might start thinking you like me.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” she shot back, though her lips twitched into a faint smile of their own.

As they walked out of the court together, their banter trailing into the evening air, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted. Maybe, just maybe, Franco Colapinto wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

…

The hum of the factory felt louder than usual the next morning, or maybe it was just the lingering buzz from the paddle game. Y/N sat at her workstation, staring at the detailed telemetry graphs on her screen but not entirely focused on them. She couldn’t stop thinking about Franco—not in the way she was used to, with irritation bubbling under the surface, but something else. Something softer.

“Morning,” a familiar voice called, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Franco leaned against the edge of her desk, his trademark grin firmly in place. He was holding a cup of coffee—factory brew, by the looks of it—and looked annoyingly chipper for someone who had spent the previous day sprinting across a court.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow but unable to keep the amusement out of her tone.

“Probably,” Franco replied, setting the coffee down on her desk. “But I figured I’d start with you.”

Y/N eyed the cup suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“Peace offering,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Figured I owed you for carrying me in paddle yesterday.”

Y/N snorted, picking up the cup. “You’re lucky I like caffeine.” She took a cautious sip, then looked up at him. “Still terrible coffee, though.”

“Hey, I tried,” Franco said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

The morning flew by in a blur of meetings and simulations. Franco had started shadowing her more closely, asking questions that, to her surprise, weren’t entirely stupid.

“So, this graph,” Franco said, leaning over her shoulder as she pulled up data from one of the wind tunnel tests. “What does this spike mean?”

“It means the airflow over the rear wing is separating,” Y/N explained, highlighting the section with my cursor. “See this spike? That’s where the turbulence is disrupting the downforce. Less downforce means less grip, especially through the high-speed corners.”

Franco leaned in, squinting at the data. “So that’s why we were losing time through Sector 2 at Interlagos—the Esses and that long left-hander?”

Y/N glanced at him, impressed despite herself. “Exactly. Nice to see you’ve been paying attention for once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Franco said, grinning.

Their banter flowed more easily now, the sharp edges of their earlier exchanges softened into something almost friendly. Almost.

During their mid-morning coffee break, Y/N found herself sitting with Franco at one of the smaller tables near the canteen window. She usually avoided these moments, preferring to spend her breaks with other engineers or, more often, alone. But today, she didn’t mind the company.

“So,” Franco said, leaning back in his chair. “How’d you end up here, anyway?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Here, as in Williams? Or here, as in motorsport?”

“Motorsport,” Franco clarified, taking a sip of his coffee. “You don’t exactly seem like the type to spend your weekends watching races.”

Y/N chuckled. “You’d be right about that. My dad was obsessed with cars, though. Used to take me to karting tracks when I was a kid. At first, I hated it—too loud, too smelly. But then I started paying attention to the mechanics, how everything fit together. It just… made sense.”

Franco tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And that led you here?”

“Eventually,” Y/N said, shrugging. “I studied engineering, did an internship with McLaren during uni. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just some childhood fascination. It was what I wanted to do.”

Franco nodded, his voice quieter now. “Well, you’re really good at it. I hope you know that.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Thanks, Franco,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The afternoon was hectic. With the car rebuild still behind schedule, the factory floor buzzed with a sense of urgency. Y/N was stationed at one of the workbenches, assembling a new rear suspension with a few other engineers, when Franco wandered over.

“Need a hand?” he asked, pulling up a stool beside her.

“Can you tell the difference between a torque wrench and a spanner?” Y/N asked without looking up.

“Not yet,” Franco admitted, resting his chin on his hand. “But I’m a fast learner.”

Y/N sighed but handed him a tool anyway. “Fine. Hold this. And don’t drop it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Franco said, mimicking a salute.

Despite her initial reservations, Y/N found herself enjoying his presence. He asked questions, paid attention to her answers, and even managed to make her laugh a few times. By the end of the day, she was surprised at how much they’d gotten done—and how much lighter the workload had felt with him around.

As the factory began to wind down for the evening, Y/N was packing up her tools when Franco appeared beside her, hands in his pockets and a lopsided smile on his face.

“Busy tomorrow?” he asked.

“Probably,” Y/N replied, zipping up her bag. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Franco said, his tone casual. “Figured I should plan my day around annoying you as much as possible.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “Good luck with that.”

As they walked out of the factory together, the air between them felt lighter, less charged with the tension that had defined their earlier interactions. For the first time, Y/N found herself looking forward to the next day—not just for the work, but for the company.

…

The pub was crowded, buzzing with the energy of Williams team members finally letting loose after a grueling week. Laughter echoed off the wooden beams, glasses clinked, and the occasional burst of cheering from the engineers at the dartboard carried through the room. Franco sat at a high table with James Vowles and a handful of other engineers, a pint of beer in front of him, untouched.

“So there I was,” one of the engineers was saying, his hands gesturing wildly, “under the car, trying to weld the damn thing back together while the rear wing’s hanging on by duct tape—”

James chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like just another Tuesday.”

Franco forced a smile, but his mind was elsewhere. He could still hear the faint hum of the factory in his head, see the way Y/N’s brow furrowed as she focused on her work. He had no doubt she was still there, surrounded by telemetry data and spreadsheets, hunched over some impossible task to get the car ready for Qatar.

“Franco!” James called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You’re quiet tonight. That’s not like you.”

Franco shrugged, lifting his pint and taking a sip just to appease him. “Just tired.”

James tilted his head, studying him with a faint smile. “You’ve been spending too much time in the factory. It’ll do that to you.”

“It’s not so bad,” Franco said, setting his glass down. “The coffee is shit though.”

James’s smile grew, but he didn’t press further. Another round of laughter from the group filled the silence, but Franco found himself restless. He glanced at the time on his phone and then at the door.

“Back in a bit,” he said abruptly, grabbing his jacket.

“Running off already?” James teased, but Franco didn’t answer. He was already weaving his way through the crowd, his mind made up.

The factory was eerily quiet when Franco returned, the once-bustling floor now deserted save for the faint hum of machinery. The lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the empty workstations. He made his way to the telemetry department, navigating the maze of desks and monitors like he belonged there - which, after the past few days, he almost did.

He found her exactly where he expected: sitting at her workstation, her face illuminated by the glow of her screen. Her hair was slightly mussed, one hand absently running through it as she scrolled through what looked like another mountain of data. There was an empty coffee cup on her desk, and a faint crease on her forehead betrayed her exhaustion.

Franco paused, watching her for a moment. She looked so focused, so determined, and it struck him how much effort she poured into her work. Not just effort – her whole heart.

He cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle her too much. She glanced up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw him standing there.

“Franco?” she said, setting her stylus down. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at the pub.”

“I was,” he admitted, holding up two brown takeout bags. “But it was boring without someone yelling at me every five minutes.”

Y/N blinked, clearly caught off guard. “And you brought… food?”

“Figured you’d still be here,” he said, stepping closer and setting the bags down on the edge of her desk. “You’ve probably been here all night, haven’t you?”

“I’ve got work to do,” she replied, as though that explained everything.

“Yeah, and you’ve also got to eat,” Franco said, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside her. “So I’m here to make sure you don’t keel over from starvation. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously thoughtful,” Franco corrected, grinning.

They unpacked the food, and Y/N couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture despite herself. The noodles were still warm, the comforting aroma filling the small space around them. She took a bite, her stomach growling in approval.

“This is surprisingly good,” she admitted, glancing at him.

“You’re welcome,” Franco said, digging into his own container.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, the tension between them replaced by an unexpected ease. Franco leaned back in his chair, watching her with a curious expression.

“You really don’t stop, do you?” he asked, nodding toward her screen.

Y/N shrugged, setting her chopsticks down for a moment. “Deadlines don’t stop. Someone has to keep the car running.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Why do you do it?”

The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, then sighed. “Because it matters. It’s not just about the car—it’s about the people. Everyone here gives their all to make sure we succeed, and I don’t want to let them down.”

Franco nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “You’re really one of a kind, you know.”

Y/N blinked, startled by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“Seriously,” he added, his voice quieter now. “It’s incredible what you do here.”

She smiled, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s worth it.”

As the meal wound down, Y/N turned back to her screen, scrolling through the data she’d been working on before Franco arrived. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, but her mind wasn’t entirely on the numbers. She could feel him beside her, his presence surprisingly steady and not as intrusive as she would’ve thought a few days ago.

Franco, meanwhile, hadn’t moved. Instead, he pulled his chair closer, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk as he watched her work. The soft glow of the monitor lit her face, highlighting the faint creases on her forehead and the small, almost invisible smudge of grease on her temple.

“You really don’t stop,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Not when there’s this much to do,” she replied without looking at him.

“Still,” he said, his tone quieter now. “You’re doing all of this, late into the night, and you’re not even asking for help.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brows furrowing. “Because there’s no point. If I want it done right, I might as well do it myself.”

Franco tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “That’s not true. You just don’t let people try.”

Her hands stilled over the keyboard, his words striking deeper than she expected. She turned to him fully, her lips parting as if to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was no teasing, no arrogance - just genuine concern.

“You don’t have to carry all of it alone,” he said softly.

Her breath hitched, the words lodging themselves in her chest. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, her mind racing. He was so close now, close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the tiredness in his green eyes, and the way his shoulders seemed more relaxed than usual.

“Do you need help?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

She blinked, his question pulling her back into the moment. “You? Help with this?”

“I’m serious,” Franco said, his grin reappearing, though it was softer now. “I’m good at following orders. Well, sometimes.”

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “I appreciate ­­­­it but highly doubt you’d be any use here.”

“Try me,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone playful but laced with something deeper.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, his hand moved toward her. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against her temple as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a jolt through her all the same.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. His hand lingered near her face, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The usual sharp retorts and witty comebacks she relied on were suddenly out of reach, replaced by a charged silence that felt heavier with each passing second.

“Franco…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Just tell me what you need,” he murmured, his tone steady but impossibly soft.

Her heart pounded, her chest tight with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. The walls she’d kept firmly in place all week seemed to crack, piece by piece, under the weight of his gaze.

And then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, her lips brushing against his in a way that felt more like a question than a statement. But the moment his hand came up to cup her jaw, his fingers warm against her skin, the hesitation melted away. She tilted her head, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his jacket to pull him closer.

Franco responded in kind, his lips moving against hers with a surprising gentleness that caught her off guard. There was no urgency, no rush - just a quiet intensity that left her breathless. The air between them crackled with the kind of tension that had been building for days, unspoken and simmering just beneath the surface.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her breath coming in uneven bursts. Franco was staring at her, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice huskier than usual. “If I knew takeout was all it took—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice firm but laced with amusement.

A grin spread across his face, the kind that made his green eyes crinkle at the corners. “Noted.”

Y/N shook her head, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips. She turned back to her screen, though the work in front of her suddenly felt far less urgent. The weight of the week wasn’t gone, but it had shifted, lightened in a way she hadn’t thought possible just hours ago.

Beside her, Franco leaned back in his chair, his presence steady and unassuming. For the first time, Y/N didn’t mind him being there—not in the slightest.

…

The Williams garage in Qatar buzzed with the familiar energy of a race weekend. Mechanics hurried from here to there, engineers huddled around monitors, and the drivers moved through their routines with laser focus. But amidst the usual chaos, Y/N felt strangely at ease - a rare calm she hadn’t experienced in years of working in motorsport.

She stood near the garage entrance, tablet in hand, scrolling through last-minute setup notes for the car. It was a crisp, clear evening, and the desert air carried a cool breeze that contrasted with the heat of the track.

“Looking for me?”

Y/N didn’t even have to turn around. Franco’s voice, smug but undeniably warm, was unmistakable.

“You wish,” she replied without missing a beat, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Franco stepped into her peripheral vision, his race suit unzipped and hanging around his waist. His green eyes sparkled under the fluorescent paddock lights. “Well, if you weren’t, I’m a little disappointed.”

She finally looked up, tilting her head. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the race? You know, doing the thing we all worked so hard to make possible?”

“I am focused,” he said, leaning casually against the wall. “Just… multitasking. Driver prep and talking with my favorite engineer - it’s all about balance.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. “If you’re trying to charm me, it’s not working.”

“Who says I’m trying?” Franco countered, his grin widening.

Y/N shook her head, turning back to her tablet. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah,” Franco said, his voice softer now, “but you kind of like that about me.”

Y/N snorted softly, pretending to focus on the setup notes. “Delusional as ever.”

Franco leaned in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Call it what you want, but I think I’m growing on you.”

She tilted her head, arching a brow. “More like you’re wearing me down.”

“Same thing,” he said with a grin, stepping back slightly but not leaving.

“You ready for this?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Franco shrugged, his grin softening into something more earnest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She studied him for a beat, noting the slight tension in his posture and the way his fingers tapped lightly against his thigh. Beneath the bravado, there was a trace of nerves—small, but there.

“Hey,” she said, lowering her tablet and meeting his gaze. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”

Franco’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his usual smirk faded. “Coming from you, that actually means a lot.”

“Good,” Y/N said simply, her lips curving into a small smile.

The sound of an engine roaring to life in the garage snapped them both back to reality. Franco straightened, tugging at the collar of his race suit and exhaling deeply.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said, his voice softer this time, though there was still a faint smile playing on his lips.

Y/N didn’t look up from her tablet, her fingers flying over the screen as she reviewed another set of setup notes. “Good. Try to avoid the barriers, would you?”

Franco chuckled quietly, stepping closer until he was just beside her. “You always know how to motivate me, don’t you?”

She finally glanced up, tilting her head. “Do you really need a speech? The car’s ready, the data’s solid, and you’re…” She paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”

“That almost sounded supportive,” Franco said, his grin warming.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Y/N replied, shaking her head lightly before looking back at her screen.

Franco lingered, his hands resting lightly on the edge of her desk. “You know, you could just wish me good luck. It’d be nice to hear.”

Y/N sighed theatrically but set her tablet down, looking up at him again. “Fine. Good luck, Franco. Now go make it count.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, with a quick glance toward the bustling garage behind them, he leaned down and kissed her—a quick, warm kiss that caught her completely off guard.

From across the garage, a few engineers burst into laughter and cheers. “Woo, Colapinto!” someone shouted, and another voice chimed in, “About time!”

Y/N’s face flushed instantly as she pulled back, her eyes wide. “Franco—”

“Hey, they said it, not me,” Franco said with a small laugh, holding his hands up as if to plead innocence. But his voice had softened even more now, his gaze lingering on her with something closer to gratitude. “You look cute with those red cheeks.”

She blinked, her blush deepening, but she managed to recover quickly enough. “You’re lucky I have work to do, or I’d make you regret that.”

“You’ll miss me out there,” he teased gently, stepping back toward the car. He turned just before climbing in, his grin more genuine now. “I’ll make sure your hard work shines.”

Y/N shook her head, picking up her tablet again to distract herself from the lingering warmth on her cheeks. As the car rolled out of the garage, she caught herself smiling - just for a moment - before diving back into her work.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, though there was no mistaking the fondness in her tone.

[marigoldendragon]

Thinking of how the Twst boys would go trying to take a bra off their partner for the first time. Mild spice

Riddle - He'd struggle. He's too emotionally constipated for intimacy at first.

Cater - Easy enough. Man was SMOTHERED by his sisters growing up. He'd be desensitised to all things feminine, it's just another piece of clothing to him.

Trey - It wouldn't be smooth sailing, but he'd just casually laugh at himself and continue what he was doing.

Ace - He'd be nervous but otherwise it'd go smoothly. He thanks his past self for learning all that slight of hand. Dexterity +1

Deuce - He'd be red faced and taking it so seriously. He'd blue screen once he finally gets it off and sees whats underneath.

Leona - Man's ripping that thing off with his teeth. R.I.P bra.

Ruggie - Mr pickpocket would have *zero* problems getting it off you. Dexterity +5

Jack - He'd struggle so much. Not only would his nerves get the better of him but his giant hands are not used to such delicate tasks.

Azul - Another one where his emotional state would impair his hand eye coordination. Don't laugh at him he'd never recover.

Jade - If he knew there was a possibility of such an event happening he would come prepared. Has no difficulties with the task.

Floyd - Man's ripping that thing off with his teeth 2.0. R.I.P another bra.

Kalim - He'd struggle with it, but you guys would have fun laughing about the situation anyway.

Jamil - He's probably helped Kalim get dressed in fancy clothes a lot. Dealt with plenty of fiddly buttons, clasps, toggles etc in the past. Smooth sailing for him.

Vil - Mr world famous model, actor, fashion expert? The most gender non conforming person in the whole school? (except for maybe Lilia). Not only would taking a bra off you be easy you'd probably leave with a better quality one than you came with. (He'd magically make it your size. Great sevens you've never had a bra ft so well)

Rook - He'd take forever with it. Not because of a skill issue, he'd just want to savour the moment.

Epel - Would have practiced/watched tutorials beforehand. Wants to be a smooth operator when the time comes. Be impressed by his manly skill.

Idia - Man would be having massive performance anxiety issues. Please be gentle with him. (He'd be bragging about his skills later online though)

I feel weird including Ortho in this. Skip!

Malleus - There's a possibility of him getting in his own head about having to deal with unknown 'human' clothing. Wouldn't be an issue though, he'd just magic it off you.

Silver - He's calm and steady. Even if he's got butterflies in his stomach he takes it slow and has no problems.

Sebek - Yet another emotionally constipated one who's head gets in the way of their hands. Takes him a minute. Probably blushes and averts his gaze like a scandalised housewife when he finally sees the tiddy.

Lilia - hahahaha Man has that thing off you before you even realise he's reached for the clasp. Dexterity +100

.... you know what I might include the staff this time. Although they're all adults who have presumably encountered bras before XD

Crowley - Mans won't shut up. Keeps droning on and you wonder if he's ever going to make his move only for you to discover your not wearing a bra anymore. When did he do that?

Crewel - If he's taking it off you it's likely just so he can put some other fancy lingerie back on you.

Vargas - Hands too big and muscular. Accidentally breaks it in the process. Another for the bra graveyard.

Trein - He's had a wife. Man knows what he's doing.

Sam - Quick and deft with it. This man FUCKS

[kalmiaphlox]

Damn, this is what it feels like to be you?

COMPLETED!

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2

Love Me Like You Do

Astarion takes his wrist back, rubbing at the tender skin, disappointed. "I thought it would feel better than that…" She blinks multiple times, trying to clear her mind of this euphoric rush that is burning through her now from head to toe. "That was much better than I expected."

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 8.2k

Main Tags: Body Swap, Humor, Fluff, Smut, Body Worship, Fashion Show, Unprepared deep throating, PiV Sex, Mild Hair Pulling, is this considered self-cest???, slight breeding kink, a lil aftercare

Stuck as a man and watching her body writhe around in ways that Astarion considers pleasing to the eye is not high on her list of enjoyment. This is not the worst day of her life, but by the gods is it one of the most uncomfortable. 

Seeing it for herself now, Hircine thinks she looks more like a worm undulating a path around the room than some sensuous woman enticing her husband into bed.

Yet Astarion finds it exceptionally attractive, made apparent by the way his eyes linger across her form when she stretches out in bed with her best come-hither stare, lips wet and parted, eager to take his cock. He really likes it when Hircine wears something low cut or open at the chest, and if she squeezes her tits together, then it's ‘delightful’, as Astarion would purr. 

All she sees now is someone desperate for attention. 

These images will have to be scrubbed from her mind if she's going to perform like that ever again in the future. The cringe-inducing revulsion she feels for her own body is too much. 

Hircine would love more than anything to be easily turned on by this. They could have that savage fuck he's looking for so bad and then the focus could shift to something else, something that doesn't require Hircine to look at herself more than she wants. 

She's not unpleasant on the eyes with her pink-hued gray skin and the much too long hair that shines between silver, slate and black depending on the lighting. Her eyes are brighter than she's known them to be, the shining gold ring a touch eerie and too reflective.

No, beauty is not the issue.

I just don't like women.

What if they're stuck like this? Will she have to get used to it?

I don't want to fuck men like this. I don't want to fuck or make love or have sex or whatever with anyone but Astarion. 

But she can't do that when he looks like her. 

All she wants is to please Astarion. When he's happy, so is she, and maybe vice versa, but trying to get turned on by herself has been damn near impossible. She looks at that face every damned day! It's not sexy!

She barely touches herself to begin with, the only time really indulging in such an act is when Astarion requests it of her in that way he does. There's no shame behind it, Hircine just doesn't care for it. 

She is trying! No one can say she isn't! Having a penis attached to her instead of inside her is a terrible fate. She can't even look at it. When Astarion slipped into the bathroom for the business-that-shall-not-be-uttered, Hircine got a feel of herself in his body. It just doesn't feel right to touch anything, and then it's Astarion and all she can think about is him not being treated exactly the way he deserves and she would hate to do something wrong.

With Astarion in her sight, the experience is a little better, but then he is her and Hircine does not want to look at herself look at herself! It's weird and so discomforting. 

Then there's the distinct silence of his mind… She never knew how loud hers was, and maybe she misses Herma-Mora’s buzzing a bit. 

The hunger, now that, Hircine could do without. It's not a noise in the way Herma-Mora is, but a feeling, and it's everywhere. A fierce ache that never goes away, gnawing and brutal. Instead of the hunger being localized in his stomach the way a living being's is, it's this unpleasant itch beneath the skin, an inhuman, hungering maw screaming for more and more and more. Why do her teeth hurt so much?!

Astarion said that it's never ending, and no matter how much he drinks, the burn will go on. 

What a terrible existence that must be. 

And it could be Hircine's forever if—

“My love~” When her head turns towards the sing-song tone, his finger sinks into her cheek. Astarion giggles like she fell into some kind of trap. “May I make another request?”

Oh, gods. “What now, Husband?” She asks, hesitant. 

His cat-like grin is an odd sight on Hircine’s actual face. “Can I try on your clothes? Pretty please?”

Could be worse. “My wardrobe is at your disposal. Let me know if you need help, some of those straps are so… strappy.”

“Not to be rude, my perfect—”. 

“You're always rude.” She says.

He gasps as if she told him his lipstick doesn't match the outfit he's wearing. “That, my sweet, is rude.”

“It’s true.”

“Rude!”

“Rude,” she echoes, dryly.

They stare at each other for a while before Astarion huffs, flicking a long strand of hair over his shoulder, his tone snippy and demanding. “Would you be a good wife and fetch the standing mirror from the storage room? My arms are much too weak now.”

“Yes, milord, whatever you want!” She mocks as she gets up, feeling a pillow thump against her back as she disappears into the hallway and enters the storage room. The mirror is front and center since they bring it back and forth often, maybe they should just keep it in the bedroom, but Hircine likes the room mirror-less. 

She pauses in front of it, finding nothing in its reflection. Alarm wiggles into her brain and Hircine pats down her body to know that she is still there. Of course it is.

This is Astarion's reality.

Back in the bedroom, Astarion is already digging through her closet, making a horrendous mess of everything. Clothes dropped in piles on the floor, skirts scattered about, along with trails of ribbons that she's not quite sure were in her closet to begin with.

Hircine would wager quite a sum of gold that Astarion is making a mess like that just for Lexi to clean up. 

Truly, he is the rude one. 

Settling the mirror behind the privacy screen, Hircine peers into the closet. “Do you need any help?”

“No! Go sit down while I prepare!” 

She won't argue. Back on the couch, Hircine reclines back with legs crossed, listening to the rustle of fabrics and grunts of whatever is causing Astarion exertion, probably some dress that needs to be tied in a complicated manner. If he and Lexi aren't around, she avoids those. No need to spend half the evening trying to put on one stupid piece of clothing.

“Can I take one of your fans?” Astarion asks from the closet.

“Only the ones in the top drawer.” She says, checking her nails the way she's seen Astarion do so many times. His cuticles are kept clean and the nails are filed neatly just as she expects.

He mutters under his breath, a quiet whisper that, in normal circumstances, would not be heard. “Tch, stingy.” 

“Hey, I heard that!” The hearing in this body is something else, and well, all the senses are so amplified. She can hear Astarion’s heartbeat and smell the perfumes tucked in their bottles, all from her place on the couch. Even her vision is exceptionally sharpened. It really is cheating to be so attuned to everything; there's no chance to hide.

He clears his throat loudly, getting her attention. “Are you ready, my love?”

“Dazzle me with my wardrobe, please.” She deadpans.

“Don't mind if I do~” Astarion sings, one slim leg appearing from behind the privacy screen, the hints of a blue dress Hircine doesn't recognize follow the movement. Stepping out into full view, waving a spread open fan to cast a breeze over himself, Astarion poses languidly against the screen's frame, slightly reclined with chest jutting out, head tilted back. Is that... supposed to be alluring? The dress he chose is of royal blue silk, tight-fitting as all Hircine’s clothes are, with a deep neckline that plunges all the way to his navel, focus drawn to the breasts which are partially covered and threatening to fall out should he lean over too far. “Blue suits you, pet, and so does this dress. Why have you been hiding it from me?”

She drags a finger down her flat chest. “It's not the most work-appropriate.”

Astarion scoffs, “Work wear be damned. Everyone should have the privilege of seeing Belbol and Iiyola in all their glory.”

“You want other people looking at my tits?”

The fan is snapped shut, tapping against his chin as Astarion ponders that, the face that was once hers, screwing up with disgust. “No, I guess not, but they should be displayed more.”

“So, I should walk around naked for you.” She adjusts while re-crossing her legs, holding onto a knee with a quirked brow.

“Then where's the fun in that? I enjoy ripping your clothes off… Also, this is nice!” He reaches up, swiftly pulling the sides of the fabric away so his breasts pop out with a bounce, and then Astarion rocks back on his heels, making them sway. “Are you taking notes? I can get you some parchment. Gods, I could look at them all day!”

“You already do.”

“Actually, no, I don't think so. They're starving for my affection.”

Earlier on the elevator ride down to the mines, Astarion was grabbing and groping at her chest—not that Hircine minds at all. He holds them for ‘support’, for whose benefit, well everyone knows it’s not hers. Most nights in bed, Astarion's head rests on her chest, partially to listen to her heartbeat and then partially for the… pillows. Then there is reading time, a book in one hand and a tit in the other because ‘What if this book is scary, Hircine?’

He's silly. 

“Is this the only show I'm getting, or are you going to try on more?” Hircine asks, having had enough of watching her own breasts shake while Astarion coos in awe.

“Fine. Onto the next.” The dress is already being shucked off as he turns around, disappearing behind the screen once again. Pants—ew, blouses—ew, and a variety of dresses and nightdresses are tried on and flounced around in before Astarion gets to something that he laughs uproariously about. 

She'd much rather hear his actual laugh.

“What’s so funny, Husband?” The laughter is extremely suspicious, and Hircine is ready to burst into the closet before Astarion shushes her.

“Oh, just wait. This is amazing. You've really been holding out on me, you little deviant.”

Now she's concerned. There's a whole assortment of unwanted fabric in Hircine's closet that's been stuffed into the bottom of a drawer since Lexi will just purchase things randomly that fit Hircine’s ‘tastes’, and occasionally they are things that Hircine would never wear a day in her life because Lexi does as she pleases.

She shudders, thinking of shoes. An awful invention. No one should suffer their tyranny.

“Love, can I take your lipstick off?”

Ah, so now Hircine really has to see herself in all her glory. “Yes, go ahead.”

He giggles maniacally from behind the screen and Hircine is now fidgeting in her spot on the couch, worried about whatever he has found.

“Like I said, I hope you’re taking notes!” And Astarion appears, draped in a luxuriously oversized, velvet robe in a deep earthy shade of green with dyed owlbear down cuffs and hem. The sash is tied tight around his thin waist, but Hircine knows something is hidden underneath. “Pet, I can’t believe you don’t wear this all the time!” His white lips are split into what must be a seductive smile.

She shrugs, “Eh, I forgot about it.”

He shakes his head in disappointment, “If you won’t wear it, then I might take it for myself then.”

“Be my guest, Husband.”

Gliding across the floor so smoothly he may as well be floating, Astarion circles around Hircine to the back of the couch, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning down to place a sweet kiss on her cheek. “There’s more…” 

She knew it. 

Back in front of Hircine, Astarion drags the table out of the way, giving himself a wide area for whatever show he is about to put on. “This, my perfect girl, is what I expect you to commit to memory. Know that I like it, and know that I want it. Understand?”

She nods, reluctant to see whatever he is about to show off. Hircine is racking her brain for what this mystery outfit could be. Knowing that it’s something scandalous, she can only assume it was tossed to the very back of her closet the moment she saw it, never to be unearthed—until Astarion, that is. 

Slowly—torturously, in Hircine’s eyes—Astarion unties the sash, the most smug grin twisting his lips in a way that only Astarion is capable of. He’s careful to keep the robe closed as the sash is fully undone now, the smirk deepening still, the bastard. His fingers tease at the neckline, spreading it ever so slightly that Hircine can tell that whatever else he’s wearing plunges deep, showing off his ample cleavage. “Are you ready?” He asks in a husky voice that drips with an unbearable need.

Just by scent, Hircine can tell how turned on he’s getting from this raunchy display, and since it’s her body, she knows exactly how wet her cunt is. She sighs, waving her hand over his form. “Get it over with, please.”

His teeth dig into his lower lip as the robe is pulled away revealing… 

Can it even be called ‘clothing’ with how little it covers? 

Hircine is unsure of what this exact piece of clothing is called, outside of it being some type of lingerie. A black strip of fabric goes over the shoulders and comes together mid chest to slip right between the breasts—which are both out in the open, nothing hiding them, before splitting off into three thin pieces that go under the bust and down the stomach. There’s a very small, very sheer lacey triangle of fabric that covers just above the belly button and over the crotch… mostly. It’s clear almost immediately to Hircine that they are crotchless. There are more straps and strips and strings over the hips and legs.

Nothing is left to the imagination, that's for sure.

The strappiness of it all is the biggest offender. That’s why Hircine has never worn it. She hates straps, all they do is end up in tangles and her in teary irritation, ready to rip them to shreds. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Astarion asks, all heavy-lidded and filled with lust as his hands roam over his body, feathering light touches that has him trembling. “I know why you wouldn’t like this, but wear it for me just once. That’s all I ask.”

“You’re wearing it just fine for me. Is that not enough?” 

He twists around, giving Hircine a view of ass and back, then bends forward.

She blinks, unphased. Yes, that is a cunt.

It's nowhere near as enticing as when he does his seductive poses in his body. “No, because this is me, and not you. I want to see how you move in it.” 

“Do you think it would fit on this body?” Hircine gestures over herself in jest. 

Astarion pauses, head cocking as he thinks about it, maybe a little too seriously. “Would that be something you’d like?”

She doesn’t even have to think about it. “No. What about you?” 

“I bet I’d look ravishing, pet, but I don’t think it’s really my style. I prefer being naked, draped perfectly with a blanket over my cock so you’re left wanting, or fully clothed to the nines! No in between, really.” Moving closer, Astarion points down to Hircine’s crossed legs. “May I sit?”

“Ye—” Before her words have fully left her mouth, Astarion straddles her lap, wrapping his arms around her neck tight and pushing his breasts into her face. Having no energy to fight him, Hircine rests her head on her own tits, humming in pleasant surprise at how soft and comfortable it is. No wonder Astarion loves to use them as pillows. 

"I have to ask… Am I cold to you—in my body, not like this, obviously?"

Hircine shrugs, looking up through her lashes at Astarion. "You're more room temperature, though I guess if the room is cold, then so are you, but it's not a bad thing. It feels nice most days."

"You promise?" Astarion asks.

"Yes, of course. Why?"

He sighs heavily, leaning further into Hircine so her face is now buried in plush tits—there's no use fighting against it. "I-I was worried maybe it made you uncomfortable… or you put up with it for me."

Drawing a hand up and down his back—and finding the lack of scars a little strange—Hircine pulls away enough to speak properly. "No, not at all. I like the way you feel."

"Gods above, my perfect girl always knows what to say." Astarion squeezes Hircine's cheeks in his hands, peppering kisses all across her face. "You're so good to me. Is there anything you’d like to do since I have indulged in… everything?" He asks as he cards his fingers through her silky curls. 

What could Hircine possibly want to do like this? 

While she considers all the options, the steady thrum of Astarion’s heart pounds against her ear, activating some deep-seated ache within her body and fangs. 

No, no, he wouldn’t allow that, would he? Hircine licks her lips, now feeling insatiable in all the wrong ways.

Lifting her head so their eyes meet, Hircine broaches the topic. “Could I… try to drink from you?”

Astarion stills completely once he removes his hands from her. “How do I know that you’ll stop?”

She pauses in consideration. “...You don’t, and neither do I, and if you aren’t comfortable with it, then there’s no reason to. I just—I’m curious, since I can feel your hunger, it’s so strange.”

He holds his chin the same way he does in his own body, putting great thought into this decision. Hircine understands how dangerous this could be for them, how easily she could kill Astarion and her own body if there is no control on her end. 

And with Lexi gone, there is no one to heal him should worse come to worst. 

Astarion grabs her cheeks, eyes blazing with excitement. “Let’s do it, because I also want to know how it feels, you know, when I’m not lying on the ground dying… and also you look so erotic—sexy!—when I bite you just right, I’d like to see how I look when biting.” She nods in his hands, and he keeps talking. “I think the wrist is our safest route, easier to pull away when I’ve decided you're done. I know you like a nice deep drink from your body, but I’d like to keep my wits about me, so maybe two pulls should be enough. How do you feel about that?”

Hircine was expecting an outright no, so this is better than nothing at all. “I think that’s perfect. There are some health potions in the bathroom should I… go too far.”

“No, there will be none of that. Two drinks max, and if you go further, I’ll slap you. Sound fair?” As if a slap will hurt her like this.

“I—Yes, that's fair.” She is absolutely salivating now at the prospect. The smell of blood beneath his skin has been easy enough to ignore, whether from Astarion’s years of control or maybe Hircine isn’t attuned to it with their body-mishap, but now that she is really focusing on it, it might be a little overpowering. Not in the way perfume is when a bottle is spilled, no, this scent is so hard to describe. 

Astarion explained it once, she smells like berries, spices and a natural musk that is present in all living beings. She thought it was her perfume, but he was adamant that it’s her own scent, and sitting here now with Astarion’s in-human sense of smell does Hircine understand. 

It’s under her skin, and to imagine how much more potent it will be when the blood is no longer trapped within… Oh gods. She can’t wait. 

Adjusting himself so he sits next to her on the couch, Astarion offers his wrist, palm up. Never once in her almost one hundred and fifty years has Hircine thought a wrist looked delicious, even when it’s attached to a person with her face, wearing practically nothing on their body. Weird. 

Right when she takes the wrist in her own hands, Astarion speaks up. “Go very, very slow. Stay in control, remember that drinking more will absolutely not stop the ache, and also, please don’t kill me. I will be quite cross with you.”

“Right,” Hircine says, licking her lips. Go slow. 

She doesn’t know how she knows as her mouth is brought right over the spot she should bite. The pulse, while quiet beneath the skin, thunders in her ears, the guiding star of her hunger.

Everything is felt in slow motion—her nostrils flare, inhaling deeper. The room grows brighter, each follicle of hair on the arm she's holding now in hyper focus as her mouth finds its rightful place, biting down, feeling how her fangs easily slice into his flesh.

Astarion tenses with discomfort, but that's all on another plane where her hunger is concerned.

Again, she moves like this is a dance she's learned a thousand times over, fangs pull out and blood gushes into her mouth. The moan that breaks free from her throat is animalistic and ravenous. Has she ever tasted something so good? Hircine can recall exactly how blood tastes in her own body, pungent iron and sharp, not something she'd take a goblet of.

But this… this is the nectar of the gods, ambrosia! How could she live without such an amazing delicacy?

"Slow, Hircine!" Astarion urges, bringing her back to the present. His free hand pats her cheek roughly, not yet a slap, but more than ready to deliver one.

Slow. Slow. SLOW. She chants the words over and over as she swallows her first drink, instantly sensing how the warmth permeates throughout her body—bringing her attention down somewhere that has so far been very unresponsive.

More blood fills her mouth and she will savor this, since it shall be her last. The essence sits upon her tongue, coating it, imbuing it with the life that has been missing when she and Astarion were thrust into the other's bodies.

And then it is also swallowed down, and she will weep at the loss of that enlightening experience. Remembering how Astarion stops the flow of blood, she releases her mouth from his wrist, licking the pinholes where such a feast once lay. Something about the saliva of Astarion's mouth closes the wounds his fangs create, quickly staunching the flow of blood—and it delivers Hircine one last treat.

Astarion takes his wrist back, rubbing at it, disappointed. "I thought it would feel better than that…"

She blinks multiple times, trying to clear her mind of this euphoric rush that is burning through her now from head to toe. "That was much better than I expected."

"Ugh, that's not fair! You always make it look so hot when I bite you! Why was it not hot?" He pouts, crossing his arms as if throwing a tantrum, but the naked tits shoving up at his movements just looks silly, though Hircine is struggling to understand why her eyes are drawn down to them now, the hunger morphing into another kind of twisted burn.

"I didn't like it the first time you bit me… It might be an acquired… taste." She smiles deviously and leans in. "We could try again if you'd like."

Astarion scoffs, swatting her away. "Absolutely not! I will—Oh, now how could I forget about that?" Shoving Hircine back against the couch, he points to her tented crotch.

So that's what she's feeling. Blood lust.

Lavender-gold finds red, wide and pleading. "Can we? I know how long it lasts. Please, Hircine."

"It really is involuntary… I thought it was because you're attracted to me." How sad. She had thought her blood was special.

He pats her face, forcing her eyes away from her now erect cock. "I am attracted to you, never think otherwise, but that isn't the focus right now. Hircine, my darling, perfect love, I need it in me. Please."

"Fine. Hurry!" Before her words are even finished, Astarion is already tearing her shirt off, buttons flinging to the floor, then furiously undoing the ties on the pants she had put on after their nap. It's definitely more sensitive down there than it was earlier when he… helped tuck her penis back into her underpants. The feeling of Astarion's fingers brushing over where the cock lies beneath the clothing is sending bolts of arousal up into her insides.

It's so different yet similar to her own body, inside and outside. What a strange experience altogether.

Pants are stripped and then the underwear does not last long once Astarion gets his hands on it, now flung to some corner of their bedroom. Gods, he moves fast when he wants something as fanatically as this. Positioned between her legs on his knees, Astarion kneads into Hircine's thighs, not quite sure of how to proceed.

Is he drooling? Whatever, as long as he's happy…

"Can I taste my cock?" His eyes flash to hers before returning down to the thing in question.

Who would she be if she stopped him? "I—Uh, go ahead."

Not a moment is wasted before his lips wrap around the head, and Hircine gasps at how good it feels. Hot and wet in all the right ways, tongue slipping along the underside for a few swipes. She fully understands why Astarion is always so eager to have her choking on his cock.

It's amazing on the other side!

Why couldn't she have gotten it up earlier? So much play time wasted from her inability to see past herself.

She likes when his tongue is inside her in their normal interactions, but near all of her cock has been swallowed down by Astarion and Hircine can't help but moan aloud. What a rush!

Tucking hair behind his pointed ears, Astarion bobs up and down her shaft a few times, ringing his other hand along the base in a surprisingly tight grip. Hircine’s breath catches in her throat, strangling whatever noise was trying to escape.

Astarion then just goes for it, taking that cock all the way down—and he chokes. Gagging, he rips his head away, threads of spit connecting his mouth to her sex. "Ho-How do you—You make it look so easy!" He gasps out.

Hircine is stuck, stunned, cobbling back pieces of her mind because what. In. The. Hells. Everything about that was so perfect. She didn't realize how cold she felt until being encased with pure molten heat, and then the velvety mouth-feel…

With a cough to clear her throat, Hircine clears her mind finally, responding to Astarion. "I don't know how you suck cock, Husband, but you can't just take it without thought."

Astarion pauses, eyes widening with something that borders on frenzied. "It's because my cock is so big, isn't it?"

"Yes," she responds instantly. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. That is not a can of beholders she ever wants opened.

He stares back down at his cock, plotting out his next move and Hircine hopes for more, for anything really. "I'm going to fuck myself now."

Ah, straight to better than anything. "Get on me," Hircine all but begs, feeling her cock give a little kick in anticipation.

Still wearing that horrendous not-an-outfit, Astarion clambers up on his knees, resting them on either side of Hircine's thighs. Placing a hand on her shoulder, their eyes meet. "Are you ready, my love?"

"I—Wait!" Taking a fistful of that scrap of fabric he has on, Hircine rips it off with ease. "I was tired of staring at it."

Astarion's mouth has gone slack, forming a long O. "I'm going to come so fucking hard tonight." He searches out her cock, taking it in hand and lining it up to his sopping wet cunt.

Is that the one upside to a cock is that it isn't as messy as the endless slick she produces? Hircine would still much prefer her vagina back.

His heart is pounding a ferocious beat against his chest, eager to escape, and she briefly wonders if it feels painful to him. On his knees like this, Hircine is perfectly eye level with those breasts, staring into the white void that is his firm nipples.

Is she about to do this?

Oh, yes.

Astarion sinks all the way down on her cock with ease from his slippery lips and their moans in unison are music to their ears. It's rapturous, the way her—his cunt swallows her cock whole, devouring its entire length. Soft and wet and warm and delicious. To fill, instead of be filled, now that is an experience.

Their mouths find each other instantly, tongues tangling together. "Oh, fuck!" Hircine gasps into Astarion, and he swallows those words greedily, winding his fingers into her hair to crush their faces impossibly closer.

He pulls away, nipping at her lips as he does. "You'll suck on my tits?"

"Yeah…" Hircine breathes out as she's guided by Astarion to his breasts. His back is arched, offering them up for the feasting. Taking one in hand, Hircine latches on to a nipple, finding it not all that unlike the way she does it to herself—which she is doing, but not really…

Clearing her mind of any erection-killing thoughts, she sucks gently on the hardened peak, the taste of his skin so sweet and intoxicating. Astarion groans raggedly, nails clawing into her shoulders as he rocks in place on her cock, really the only stimulation she can handle right now.

She doesn't believe she's going to last long at this rate.

Shuddering, Astarion begins to move with purpose now, finding a rhythm astride Hircine. She releases his tit, choosing to lean back and watch him ride her like his life depends on it, as Astarion has done so many times when the roles were reversed.

So, it's maybe not that bad being a man. Kind of.

“Oh gods, oh gods, please, I need you deeper. Fuck me with my cock, Hircine, I can take it all.” His head is thrown back, tits bouncing as Astarion rocks up and down his own cock, all sense lost. “Hircine, my love, please go deeper! I need it!” Astarion is petting at her face, kissing her lips, moaning and screaming and begging.

Astarion is rarely the loudest one in the bedroom, always demanding that Hircine let loose as much as possible because it's 'angelic'… The shoe on the other foot is a little weird. "There's no going deeper!" She laughs, taken out of the moment.

"Wha-What?!"

“It's bottomed out inside you, Husband, trust me, I know.”

Astarion pauses his rocking, the lust giving way to more clarity. “How is that it? There's more to my cock, I know it.”

“No, that's all.” Literally. He’s sitting all the way down on it, there’s no more to take.

More of the fuck-drunk—cock-drunk might be more appropriate—haze lifts, his eyes narrowing with intensity. “Are you saying my cock’s small?”

“I have never, nor would ever say that. It's perfect, I swear.”

"My cock's big enough to choke your mouth, but not big enough to stuff your cunt?"

"It does both jobs perfectly, and from where I'm sitting, this cock feels stuffed inside of a cunt right now. You are the one having issues with it! I never have!"

“Well, I need more. Can you magic it bigger?”

She places her hands around his full hips, digging in to the soft flesh. “Uh, no, absolutely not. Having been in that same position, like two days ago if I recall correctly, I assure you that even if your cock were bigger, it would not fit.” For emphasis, Hircine pushes down on his hips, nodding knowingly at the small whimper that escapes his lips. “Do you feel that, Husband? That's the end.”

Astarion's cock could not be more perfect for Hircine. Long enough that it can reach the back wall of her cunt so deliciously just the way she likes, and the girth gives her the most delightful stretch, never painful, only pleasurable. Yet somehow he is begging for more…

His cunt clenches and pulses around her length, thighs baring down on her own. Oh, that's good. She'll take more of that.

“But what if it could go deeper?” His lips are on hers again, tongues dancing as Hircine's head is tilted up and pressed into the couch cushions.

She laughs awkwardly, talking around his tongue. “I promise—you, it can't—”

Reeling back with a pout—he likes this face I make?! It’s so childish!—Astarion persists. “Why not? There’s more room in here.” He pats his flat stomach with a grin.

“Do you need an anatomy lesson? If I—you, ugh whatever, go any further, it'll enter the—That's just not how it works.”

“Well, it should be filled with something. What better than my own cock?”

Hircine cringes internally, trying not to let his words ruin the arousal she's finally built up. Thank the gods Astarion is not a woman. “How about we not destroy my body for your deranged penis obsession, alright? I think that's a fair and normal thing to want.”

“But magic—”

She interrupts him, not allowing anymore of this insanity. “Considering that we are both not how we should be right now, I'd say it could get a lot, lot worse. Maybe turn us inside out, actually implant a slaad egg in our chests… I could go on, Husband, but I think you get the point.” Hircine considers him for a moment before bucking her hips up to meet his, relishing the gasp that's pushed out of his mouth. “Why don't we change it up a bit? I like this position a lot, but it’s not as fun for me at the moment.”

His eyes sparkle with excitement. “Oh, fuck me exactly the way you want to be fucked.”

He already does though… What haven't they done that Hircine would like?

Hmm, well it's not exactly novel, but she won't have to see her own face anymore.

“Get up.” She demands exactly the same way he does. She likes being told what to do when it's Astarion—and so does he, apparently, when he enthusiastically complies. They both groan at the loss of cock in cunt when he gets up, and Hircine is especially surprised at how much she misses that all-encompassing warmth wrapped around her. It'll be back in a moment.

Panting in tandem, they're both covered in slick, all between his legs and down the front of her thighs. Gods her body really has no problems getting wet for this one. 

"Do you want a little roughness?" Hircine asks, running her hands along the curves of his neck.

He hums thoughtfully as their lips meld together one more time. "You're not going to accidentally break me are you? I'm a delicate flower now."

"Hah! Like I said, only a little… It will be just the way I like it."

His glowing eyes sparkle with insatiable desire. "Oh, yes. Yes, please."

Winding her hand into long locks of hair, Hircine pulls back his head tight, baring his throat at an angle so she can watch the pulse pound beneath it. Astarion stares up at her, a veil of caution now layering over his lust. She won't bite, there's no more need for that, as her mouth finds the sensitive skin, scraping fangs down to his collarbones, reveling in the way he trembles like a bird caught in a trap.

Just the way I like it.

A sharp tug drags Astarion further, curving his back so Hircine can take a breast in mouth, suckling the skin harshly to leave a puffy red mark, barely pressing her teeth in, careful not to break through. Astarion keens, loud and long, scrabbling for any purchase on Hircine's broad chest and finding none.

Having enough of this sensual play as it does nothing for Hircine, she takes his chin between her fingers, "Are you ready to be fucked?"

"Ravage me, my love!" He cries.

Grabbing his hair once again, this time with much more force—though nothing that will tear—Hircine guides Astarion to the back of the couch, shoving his stomach up against the ledge. She pushes him over until his feet no longer touch the ground, practically bent in half with his arms holding himself mostly upright on the couch cushions.

"Oh, I like this, pet."

"I know you do, and imagine how much better it would be if I were me and you were you."

His legs wrap around her waist, calves locking her in—or at least trying to with his limited strength. Cock is teased against the entrance to his slit, not entering, just a smooth up and down that makes him quiver and whine like a bitch in heat. Leaning in with her hold on his hair still tight, Hircine nibbles at his ear, whispering as she does, "I love you, Husband."

He sharply intakes a breath at her words, responding in kind. "I love yo—"

Her cock slams inside of him hard, stopping any verbal formations as she rocks and ruts into his cunt aggressively, hips slapping against his bare ass in a powerful rhythm and digging her blunt nails into his slim waist so Astarion won't go tumbling over the front of the couch while her other hand keeps his hair coiled within her fist. Her grunts are barely audible above the wet smacking and Astarion's own high-pitched cries.

How could he ever complain about this not being enough? His cunt walls are strangling her cock, milking it for everything it has.

Pistoning in and out, Hircine's ploughs into Astarion giving him exactly what he so desperately wants while she slowly but surely reaches the precipice of an orgasm.

Thinking back on it now, Hircine cannot believe he has never bent her over a desk or table in their home. Gods, she wishes it were her right now. It's fun doing the fucking, but she prefers to be fucked.

And maybe it's a little too much for Astarion too when his moans turn to something she'd rather not hear.

"Oh, fuck me, Hircine! Fill me to the brim!" His cries of euphoria are sharp against her more sensitive ears, and she is thankful for the soundproofing of their walls. "Ah~! Ah~! Ah~! Pet, give me my come! Make me pregnant! I'll carry my own baby! Let me have it!"

Her brutal pace falters, mind reeling at the turn this has taken. What the fuck is he saying? Is he truly so consumed by his own cock that he would go this far?

Astarion continues with his insane ramblings, "Hircine, please! I need it inside me! Ah~! I'll grow round with child! Breed me! Think of how—"

His words are drowned out as Hircine panics. Nothing makes her dry up—er, go flaccid like talk of children. That is not something they want. He's lost it.

She slows further, looking for any solution because she would never tell Astarion to be quiet… but he needs to shut up or this will all end much too soon.

The lingerie! It's shredded but thank the gods Hircine threw it on the couch with little regard for where it might end up. Releasing her hold on his hair, Astarion falls forward, silenced for the moment while she snatches up the fabric, bundling it up into a ball. Right when he starts to turn in outrage, Hircine shoves the lingerie into his mouth.

In his typical scent-obsessed fashion, his eyes roll into the back of his head as he tastes any lingering wetness there. They can continue in peace.

Returning to burying herself inside of his cunt, which grows slicker by the second, Hircine finds that path of no return, ecstatic at knowing there's an end in sight. She drives with purpose, listening to Astarion's muffled, desperate moans that foretell he must be close too. Gods, nothing gets him off like soaked panties.

The dam is about to break, her cock kicks, ready to release, and Hircine will not stop it, but the build-up is too great.

She blacks out.

++++

Hircine comes to, pinched between a heavy pressure above and then a firm and unyielding object below. She lays face down, ass up in whatever extremely uncomfortable position this is, feet dangling from wherever she is, scalp tingling and her cunt—

What happened?

She tries to get up, but whatever is on top of her keeps her down, unmoving.

And something is… inside her.

Wait, inside?

Hircine's eyes snap open and she is herself once again. Oh gods, she might cry at the relief of feeling so comfortable and whole once again, especially with what she imagines is Astarion’s cock still buried inside her.

No wonder she's so achey down there. How on these material planes did he even complain about his penis? It's perfect!

She tries lifting her torso up, but Astarion's heavy, limp weight keeps her in place, and really, her strength has been sapped by all this wonderful activity. Hircine won't be moving around anytime soon. Her legs flail about, anything to give her some purchase, yet they find nothing. Hircine is stuck until her husband rouses from his stupor.

Are they returned for good, though? She does not believe she can handle the strain of switching back and forth for the rest of her days, no matter how much she loves Astarion.

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Ah! And Herma-Mora is back. Hircine never thought his inchoate chittering would be such a reassuring welcome.

There's no more hunger—of Astarion’s that is. She doesn't mind hers, at least it will go away with some bread and cheese.

He got his wish; she is bent in half, though Hircine did it to herself. Have they been here for long? Her legs are numbing from this position and pinch, and the frame of the couch is digging painfully into her hips while Astarion's body offers an unrelenting pressure to her backside.

How did he wake her up when he found them in the mines like this? A slap might be a little hard in this position… and she doesn't think she could ever hit him.

"Husb—" Her voice is a ragged croak. Hircine swallows and tries again, louder this time. "Husband! Wake up!"

A groan, then a subtle shift atop her follows, so Hircine shouts once more. "Husband, you're crushing me!!"

He lurches before propping himself up on his arms with a groan. "Uughh, what happened?" Then he springs to life, relieving Hircine of his crushing weight—though she might unhappily groan when his cock slips free of her over-sensitive cunt. "I'm me! Gods above, I'm me again!" He's crowing with excitement, probably running his hands along his body, remembering what it's like. As he should. He's a gorgeous piece of man.

"Oh, oh my, what's this beautiful sight?"

She doesn't know what he's referring to until Hircine feels the ghosting of Astarion's fingers across her arse, teasing down along the roundness until his cool fingers stroke at her lower lips. "You're leaking, pet. We can't have that."

Good gods… talk about a never-ending hunger.

A digit sinks inside of her, probably to push their combined spend spilling out back in and Hircine whines sweetly, but not before the sting of her hips returns in full force, reminding her of this great discomfort.

"Husband, you know I love it, but this position is hurting me…" She says, his fingers leaving her instantly. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything, what a way to ruin the moment.

Abruptly, she is pulled off the couch and into Astarion's embrace, kissing her forehead and nuzzling against her cheek. "I'm sorry, love, I got a little too excited."

He's so beautiful, exactly as he should be with his silver curls that catch the light, and eyes that crinkle so softly, sweetly, cutely, when he smiles. It wasn't even a whole day and she can't believe how much she missed that face.

She sighs in his strong arms, elated to be back to normal. "There is nothing to apologize for," but then she remembers his words when she was fucking him. "Actually, what in the hells were you on about? 'Breed me'? Did you lose you mind?"

He freezes, "I, uh, I don't know…" Astarion chews on his lip, lost. "It was like a fog of desire consumed me." His whole body is racked by a shiver.

"I feel like you cursed me." She places a hand over her stomach. "I'll ask Lexi to brew me some tea when she's back. Who knows what this-this switch has meddled with!"

"Good idea, my sweet. Give me a moment now." Dropping her like a sack of potatoes on the bed, Astarion disappears into the bathroom.

While he's gone, Hircine takes stock of her body. Not that she doesn't trust Astarion at all, but she wants to enjoy it and never take it for granted ever again. Every finger, toe and nail is accounted for. Her breasts are well played with, the hickey she left on one still there. How weird.

Rubbing her palms into her hips to soothe the burn from where she'd been pinned to the couch, Hircine waits for Astarion to return, ignoring the empty tenderness of her sex.

They might both be a little too hungry for one another.

Astarion reappears now, holding a damp washcloth in hand though he pauses on his way back, attention caught by something behind the privacy screen.

She wracks her brain for what it could be…

The mirror?

Oh. He finally, truly got to see himself after all this time, and it was only for a short while. Her heart twists for his loss. Hircine will find a way to make it up to him.

Back at their bedside, Astarion gently wipes away their combined fluids from her thighs and stomach, smiling as he does.

"What is it?" She asks.

"Oh, I'm just surprised at how messy it all was. I guess I don't really think about it when my head is between your legs feasting so not a drop is left…"

Hircine laughs, "You're right, men are so nice and dry. One of the few upsides."

"And miss out on that nectar? No, that is where you are wrong, my love, but I'll allow you to be wrong since there is more for me!" Astarion bends down, planting a smacking kiss against her lips.

"Fair enough, Husband."

Once cleaned off, Astarion slides into bed next to Hircine, layers of blankets draped over them and then he wraps his arms around her in a vice grip, and sure enough, his ear finds where her heart beats, strong and steady. "Mmm, I missed this."

"Me too…" Hircine whispers, snuggling closer.

They revel in the peaceful silence of being back in their bodies, everything righted once more.

Astarion leisurely runs a hand along her shoulder and under the swell of a breast, following the smooth lines of her abdomen to stop at a hip bone, finger just barely digging into the bone. "I've known it, but I never truly understood how fragile you are. If I'm too aggressive or pulling you around, please tell me. I hate the thought that I haven't treated you with enough care."

Her heart melts at his words while Hircine squeezes him tight, burying his head into her chest. "I swear you are only ever as rough as I request you to be. There is nothing to be concerned with, Husband."

"Alright. I-I just wanted to make sure." And never one to let sincerity settle between them for two long, Astarion rises, finding the hickey on her breast and wrapping his lips around it with a greedy growl. He's such a wonderfully puzzling creature sometimes.

"Say, would you like to get some more portraits done?" She asks, running her fingers through his messy curls.

His head whips up, red eyes all aglow. "Can we get some from different angles? Maybe a backside one, with me looking over my shoulder like I'm carrying a secret?" Astarion gasps, "Imagine waking up to a painting of my arse every day! Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"But then Lexi will see it too…"

"And it will be the finest piece of ass that old hag will ever get in her life. Maybe she'll be nicer when she knows I'm built like a god. And what about a nice, tasteful portrait of my cock?"

Hircine sticks her smile in place. "I don't think having your cock plastered on our walls is… tasteful…"

Astarion's face drops, looking like a scolded puppy. "It's because it's small, isn't it?"

"What? No! Oh my gods, fine! I'll make sure we find the finest painter in all of Faerun who specializes in… penises and then your likeness will be captured in perfect detail, bigness and all!"

His usual smirk returns, eyes cat-like and smouldering, and Hircine can't help but feel like she got played. "That's my perfect girl." He returns to his spot on her chest, purring contentedly. "I love this, and I love you."

"I love you too, Husband." She kisses his head, hopefully turning in for a well-earned rest that will be devoid of eldritch tricks.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

Hey! Look! A great breakdown of that thing I'm always talking about being a big yet entirely-overlooked deal by 90% of medical professionals in regards to this particular virus!

SARS-CoV-2, the virus behind COVID-19, is not done with us. Over the past four years, it has shown a remarkable ability to adapt, with each new variant outmaneuvering our immune systems in unique ways. The recently published study on the XEC variant (November 22, 2024) provides fresh insights into how this virus is evolving. (1) Combining this with the broader history of immune evasion, we see a troubling pattern: the virus continues to find ways to evade the immune system and in many cases, persist, potentially leaving lasting impacts on our health even for those who experience only mild or asymptomatic infections.

What the Study Found: XEC’s Immune Escape Arsenal The latest study revealed that the XEC variant—an offspring of two previous variants, KS.1.1 and KP.3.3—has developed mechanisms that make it harder for our immune systems to neutralize it. Here’s how it works:

1. Glycosylation Mutations in the N-terminal Domain (NTD):

The XEC variant introduces new glycosylation sites, such as the T22N mutation, which act like a cloak, hiding key parts of the virus from antibodies.

These sugar molecules shield the receptor-binding domain (RBD), a crucial target for vaccines and natural immunity, making it harder for antibodies to bind and neutralize the virus.

2. Allosteric Effects:

Mutations in the NTD don’t just shield the virus—they also alter the behavior of the RBD through a process called allostery. These changes can make the RBD less accessible or alter how it interacts with human cells, further reducing the effectiveness of antibodies.

3. Potential Impact on Membrane Fusion:

The study hints that these mutations may also enhance how efficiently the virus fuses with human cells, potentially increasing its infectivity.

Immune Evasion: A Constant Tug-of-War The ability of SARS-CoV-2 to adapt is not new. Looking back at the history of immune evasion, we see a pattern:

The Early Days: Mutations like D614G made the virus more infectious.

Alpha and Beta Variants: N501Y and E484K mutations increased binding to human cells and evasion of neutralizing antibodies.

Omicron Era: A flurry of spike protein mutations allowed the virus to reinfect people with previous immunity and bypass vaccine-induced protection.

XEC is the next chapter in this story, combining these strategies with new tricks like glycosylation and allosteric modulation to stay ahead of human defenses.

Why This Matters: Beyond Infections Understanding immune evasion isn’t just about tracking infections—it’s about long-term health impacts. Here’s why this evolution is particularly concerning:

1. The Shadow of Long COVID:

Millions of people suffer from Long COVID, characterized by fatigue, brain fog, heart palpitations, and muscle pain. The virus’s ability to persist and evade the immune system might explain why symptoms linger for months or years in some individuals.

Chronic immune activation or hidden reservoirs of the virus could drive these long-term effects.

2. Asymptomatic but Chronic Damage:

Even in people without noticeable symptoms, SARS-CoV-2 has been shown to cause subtle, potentially long-term damage to:

Vascular systems: Leading to inflammation and microclot formation.

Neurological function: Disrupting brain activity and potentially accelerating neurodegenerative conditions. Early onset dementia

Musculoskeletal health: Causing unexplained weakness or pain.

Cognitive performance: Contributing to memory issues and reduced mental clarity. Are you or someone you know having more trouble finding words to use or losing things more often?

3. Vaccines Alone Aren’t Enough:

While vaccines remain essential, their effectiveness is limited by the virus’s rapid evolution. Variants like XEC show how SARS-CoV-2 can sidestep even the most advanced immune defenses, highlighting the need for next-generation vaccines targeting broader parts of the virus. We have know this for a long time now so where are the broader targeting vaccines?

The Future of SARS-CoV-2 Evolution The virus has already demonstrated its ability to adapt to our immune responses in multiple ways, and there’s no reason to believe it will stop. Here are some possibilities for future adaptation:

Further Refinement of Glycosylation: Adding or modifying sugar molecules could make the virus even more difficult to detect.

Enhanced Membrane Fusion: Mutations that improve how the virus merges with human cells could increase its infectivity.

Host Adaptation: Over time, the virus could become better at hiding within human cells, evading both natural immunity and therapeutic interventions.

Increased Chronicity: The virus might evolve to persist at low levels in the body, leading to ongoing inflammation and long-term health consequences.

What We Can Do: Adapting to the Virus’s Adaptations The XEC variant and others like it remind us that SARS-CoV-2 is still a formidable opponent. Here’s what we can do:

1. Invest in Better Vaccines:

Universal or pan-coronavirus vaccines that target conserved regions of the virus are critical.

2. Improve Diagnostics:

Detecting chronic or asymptomatic infections early could help mitigate long-term health effects.

3. Focus on Treatment:

Antiviral drugs that target different parts of the virus, combined with treatments for inflammation and immune dysregulation, could help reduce the impact of Long COVID.

4. Stay Vigilant:

For individuals, maintaining basic preventive measures during high transmission periods can significantly reduce risks.

Conclusion: Learning from the Virus SARS-CoV-2 is teaching us a harsh lesson about evolution. Its ability to adapt and evade our defenses, from antibodies to T-cells, shows no sign of slowing down. Variants like XEC underscore the importance of continued research, innovation, and public health vigilance. By understanding the virus’s strategies and preparing for its next moves, we can better protect ourselves—not just from acute infections but from the long-term consequences.

Reference:

Enhanced immune evasion of SARS-CoV-2 variants KP.3.1.1 and XEC through N-terminal domain mutations (November 22, 2024)

www.thelancet.com/journals/laninf/article/PIIS1473-3099%2824%2900738-2/fulltext

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

Rolan's performance issues (Part 1)

A Tsundere Rolan (OVA)

I am so mean to my blorbo's. Anyways, Part 1 (this part) is why Rolan has performance anxiety in the bedroom during Part 2.

Inspired by this post/video.

(This isn't a part of the Tsundere Rolan series per say, but it is canon in the series. I know OVA stands for "original video animation", but you get the gist of what I'm going for here, yeah?)

I color coded the dialog for Rolan, Cal, and Lia for easier reading.

Suggestive, angst, hurt no comfort (part 1 only), insecurities, self-loathing, attachment issues, abandonment issues.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rolan and Tav's relationship had been getting more physical as of late. The thought of them going all the way had Rolan as excited as it did nervous.

One morning during breakfast Cal and Lia noticed a hickey that Rolan's pajama shirt didn't quite cover, and as his siblings they were legally obligated to tease him about it.

"Rolan, I thought that Astarion only fed from Tav." Lia said, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Not having had his morning cup of coffee yet, Rolan didn't respond— he just looked at Lia with a mix of genuine confusion and mild trepidation.

"Astarion!? It looks as though he were attacked by a very large leech!" Cal replied with a shit eating grin.

**Rolan's face**

"What?" He asked, his sleep addled mind only functional enough to shamble around like a zombie that needed caffeine instead of brains. His tail started to sway in annoyance— he knew they were teasing him, but he didn't know what they were teasing him about.

Taking pity on him, Cal tapped his pointer finger against his own neck in the spot where Tav had left a hickey on Rolan's neck.

"You've got a..." Cal said, trailing off at the end of the sentence to let Rolan figure it out himself.

Rolan's eyes suddenly widened, his cheeks flushed as his hand shot up to cover the incriminating mark on his neck.

Cal and Lia burst into laughter as they continued to poke fun at a very unamused Rolan.

"Are you sure that Tav isn't a vampire Rolan?" Lia questioned her brother with mirth.

"Could you two please be mature about this?" Rolan asked, despite already knowing that the answer would be—

"No!" Lia and Cal gleefully him answered at the same time.

Gods, he was horrified, they were never going to let this go. Rolan pinched his nasion between his thumb and pointer finger in a futile attempt to stave off a headache.

"Is the Master of the Tower planning on using some magic to impress Tav in the bedroom?" Lia asked while wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Do NOT bring my wizardry into your juvenile teasing, Lia." Rolan sternly warned.

"Yeah Lia, Rolan's magic isn't something that you should tease him about." Cal said to his sister, his voice and demeanor suddenly turning staid.

"It isn't?" Lia asked, surprised by Cal abruptly switching to Rolan's side.

"It isn't?" Rolan asked, surprised when Cal unexpectedly took his side. "I mean, you're right— it isn't. Thank you, Cal." He said with a pleased air of finality.

"Yeah well, I know it's a bit of a sensitive subject— with you having problems eh, performing your magic for someone who you've romantic feelings for." Cal said in comforting patronizing tone.

Rolan looked aghast as he asked "What in the hells are you talking about Cal? I've never had trouble perform-"

Cal cut Rolan off before he could finish his sentence. "Sarai, the bakers daughter."

Recognition dawned on Rolan's face. "I was fifteen, I was an inexperienced novice who barely understood magic!" He argued.

"Hahaha, oh yeah! I'd almost forgotten about that!" Lia cackled with delight.

"That was fourteen years ago!" Rolan reminded his impudent siblings.

"Her skin was the same shade of puke-green for almost a whole tenday, Rolan!" Cal reminded his flustered brother.

"Yeah, even the local healer didn't know that a miscast color spray could do that!" Lia added.

"I didn't have confidence in my magical abilities back then. I tried to cast a spell to impress her, and panicked when I couldn't! I got lucky that neither she nor I were injured!" Rolan said defensively.

"Oh you got lucky alright Rolan, just not in the way you were hoping you would." Lia jeered.

Before Rolan could respond, Cal added on to Lia's remark.

"He got lucky in another way on that day too, Lia! As had he not spectacularly failed in his attempt to seduce the fair maiden, he would've disappointed her by being unable to perform under pressure in the— I'd say bedroom, but storage room would be more realistic."

"I didn't know what I was doing! I was flying by the seat of my pants without any guidance..." Rolan said to his siblings, his vehemence waning as a horrible realization dawned upon him.

He stopped registering Cal and Lia's continuous taunts as his mind focused on a single, harrowing, thought: He is just as inexperienced now as he was then, all those years ago. Worse still, he was even more nervous now than he was as a hormonal teenager.

Up until now his lack of sexual and romantic experience hadn't been of any concern to him. He had his studies to focus on, he didn't have time for any "frivolous dalliances".

But now Rolan was pushing 30. He was in a romantic, soon to be sexual relationship. With a bard. A very attractive bard. Tav was honest about having had numerous lovers previous to him, and that hadn't much bothered the mage— until now.

Gods, he could hardly believe that Tav wanted to be in a serious relationship with him. Rolan knew what he was like; temperamental, orotund, and standoffish.

But Tav seemed to like him in spite of his flaws... maybe even because of them? No, He dared not to hope that such an absurd thought had any merit. Tav put up with his loathsome personality— lying to himself would only make it all the more painful when Tav eventually realizes that Rolan isn't worth the effort and abandons him.

Panic seized Rolan, he had to make sure that he didn't make a fool of himself when he and Tav eventually had sex. It had to be perfect. He had to be perfect, or Tav might see that Rolan didn't deserve to be loved.

"Rolan?" Cal gently called to his brother, both he and Lia having noticed how upset Rolan was.

They knew they went too far, that they hit a very sensitive nerve, because of Rolan's body language.

His shoulders were hunched up to his ears, his body stiff and his muscles tightly clenched. His hands were balled into fists to hide that they were shaking.

Rolan's breathing was strained, his eyes were looking towards them but he wasn't seeing the world around him. His face was carefully schooled into a neutral and unaffected look.

HIs tail held low and rigid, unmoving except for its spade which was twitching as it did when Rolan was particularly distressed.

"Hey, Rolan. We didn't mean it, we were just teasing." Lia said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

"Are you two quite finished?" Rolan asked, his voice clipped.

"...Yes, but Rolan we-" Cal replied before Rolan interrupted him.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me I have a store to open and research to complete." Rolan said as he quickly strode away, his "breakfast" of black coffee left untouched and forgotten.

"Rolan!" Lia called after him, but she paused when Cal placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Forcing him to talk is only going to make things worse, Lia." Cal sagely counseled.

"Shit. You're right." Lia replied as she sat down and placed her head in her hands. "We went to far."

"We went way to far." Cal agreed, and told Lia "We need to apologize and make it up to him."

Lia lifted her head to look dejectedly at Cal. "Apologizing we can do, but how in the world would we make it up to him?" Lia asked.

But Cal did not respond, for he did not have an answer.

---

Elsewhere in the tower Rolan was trying to get ready for the day. But his dammed hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough for him to put his hair in its normal style.

"Zurgan!" Rolan cursed, hurling his hairbrush across his room in frustration. Letting out a heavy sigh as he heard a loud cracking noise.

"Oh wonderful job Rolan. You broke it." He said to himself, disappointment and self-disgust welling up inside him.

He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and decided to send his simulacrum to man the register of Sorcerers Sundries today— he was in no mood to content with any ignorant, rude, customers.

Part 2

[loremaster]

BOBA AU - CHAPTER 1 EXTRAS

I had actually drawn a few more things than could fit within the 30-image-per-post limit. Here are the ones that didn't make the cut, with commentary!

(tw: mild animal abuse, n*zi mention, suggestive themes)

Zilch's animal companions. I named Carmina Burana and Tortellini, Gucci and Bosch were named by my friends - though Bosch was supposed to be called Hieronymus, it just didn't fit on the nametag lol

I wanted to illustrate some examples of Zilch casually mistreating/neglecting the animals but this was as far as I got. I don't think he would be a full on animal abuser, just... the type of person who likes having a bunch of pets to show off but doesn't really think about properly caring for them. He likes the aesthetics of animals much more than the logistics.

This was gonna be the chapter cover and I forgot. Oops.

This was just practice drawing the church characters from their sprites.

Zilch: I must say, it's an unexpected pleasure to run into another kindred spirit around here. I'm Zilch~

This scene was actually cut deliberately. I drew it before I decided exactly what the Nun's issue with Zilch would be and then once I did, I felt like it didn't fit anymore. Zilch is still excited to see someone else with ears and tail like him, but in the final version, he's a lot more derisive about it.

I imagine the Nun is, like, an actual animal-human hybrid whereas Zilch is a furry with a wallet that can afford bioengineered bodymods. (One day, my friends... one day...)

Zilch being flippant and Halara being dismissive/tsundere. Couldn't really find a place to put it but I still like the drawing - even if I did accidentally give Zilch human ears.

By the way, you might notice Zilch hasn't been wearing his cap. There are two reasons. One is to show off that his ears aren't actually connected to it. If I had the time to go back and redraw the prologue with him wearing it - so Halara's "holy fuck" reaction makes more sense here - I would. (Not really worth trying to fix though, not until the rest of the story is done.)

But the other reason is that upon looking closer at Zilch's original design, I thought it was a little too evocative of Nazi imagery and wasn't really comfortable with it. It's not really the same style of hat, sure, but combined with the swastikas in his eyes??? yeah no way is that not intentional. (I redesigned his eye symbols to be catlike slit pupils instead.)

I get he (or, the hitman, I guess) is supposed to be a villain, and a minor one, in the original game... but here I'm gonna flesh him out a bit more. So I guess in that sense the removal of the hat symbolizes his growth as a character beyond his terrible awful fascist upbringing lol (more on that in the Gumshoe Gabs soon)

If I were making this an actual game it would be fun to have Yuma get a fun little added gameplay element of using Zilch's Forte like he does with Halara's. He gets some little animal friends!!!

I imagined Zilch would ask to be carried, but Halara won't do it without getting paid an exorbitant amount. And then Zilch forks over the cash on the spot. Yuma screams internally. If he had that the whole time why were they even trying to negotiate over the coat???!? Why does he still have his own debt to pay if Zilch could just cover the whole thing up front????

Halara has to pretend not to be enthusiastic about this opportunity.

Shinigami is... there, I guess.

Martina my wife driving around her little parasite of a boyfriend. Ms Electro please call me

Was originally gonna have Seth say that out loud but then I remembered he doesn't want to lose his job. (It's okay, he loses it anyway.)

(Also yes this is pre-Vivia-DLC.)

And then the mystery is solved!

Zilch feels indebted to Halara for saving him from the Nail Man, and wants to follow their example, turn it around, treat his animals better... his act of goodwill here is extremely performative, though. But, hey, everyone's gotta start somewhere!

Ultimately I cut this scene after coming up with the cat bed idea. (Was very tempted to have Halara cruelly taking the coat from the boy, but just decided to skip it instead.)

So Zilch kinda idolizes Halara now... which is fine... but then the morning after he really lets his simp flag fly.

Congrats on your furry boyfriend, I guess?????

A doodle from the margins of this comic way back when.... which finally has a place to belong! \o/

Zilch's fursona. His "zursona," if you will.

Thanks again for reading! I love everyone's comments in the tags and I'm so glad you all like my version of Zilch especially. Excited to develop him some more in future chapters >:)

[oftenderweapons]

Natural Connection | KNJ | Ch.6

A Small Town Swoons

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Plum)

Wordcount: 6.6k

Genre: stragers to lovers, fluff, mild angst; ranger/trainer!Namjoon, Chef!reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Namjoon has some skeletons in his closet. Plums helps him bury them in a way that makes him feel almost reborn.

Warnings: discussion of mature topics: sex, emotional abuse. A painful trip down memory lane, burnout, anxiety. Also heavy flirting, making out and loads of raunchy jokes. Mentions of depression, therapy and feeling out of chances to restart

A/N: I’m posting this in some sort of a rush while barely keeping my eyes open,it’s not edited or reviewed, I just want it out there for you to read 💜 I’ll review it in the morning and add links. Love ya ��✨🥺

Here is my Masterlist, enjoy!

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

“Lone wolf. That's not a cute way to spend the night.” Jackson's words were just mildly teasing. He was mostly compassionate as he sat beside Namjoon at the counter of the bar. “What's given you the blues?” 

Namjoon shook his head and took a sip of beer. He had never been much of a drinker, and he regretted not being able to hold his liquor properly, because tonight really called for some hard spirits. “Nothing really.” 

“It's her, isn't it? Your Tinkerbell lady.” 

Namjoon grumbled and groaned, letting his head fall to his wrists, current laying crossed on top of the counter. 

“Hey, dude, we thought we'd lost you,” said Christopher as he approached the other two men at the bar. “Oh. I see,” he said as he made himself comfortable on Namjoon's other side. “We all have a vague idea of what happened the other day when you followed her to the bathroom,” Christopher hinted, then rubbed Namjoon's shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?” 

He shook his head, than took a large sip of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put down the glass, quite loudly too. 

“I did something, but I don't know what. And today she said she needed a day off. And now I'm wondering if I did something wrong, whether it's my fault she cancelled on today, whether I made her uncomfortable and am now ruining her holiday — something she hadn't had in a very long time.”

“Namjoon—” 

“Maybe I'm not as good a friend with benefit as I thought’d been. Maybe I'm not an easy hot-girl-summer kind of thing. Maybe I suck in bed—” 

“Not unlikely,” muttered Jackson, at which both Namjoon and Christopher snapped in his direction, as if throwing daggers with their gazes. 

“Oh, come on, there's a possibility to it, you've been out of the market for a long while!” 

Christopher grabbed the tray of shots and started making his way to the table where the other guys were hanging out, while Jackson convinced Namjoon to join them. 

“Dude, we've found a way to make this party less about you!” Jackson hollered at Jaebeom, currently wearing a cute set of antlers and a sash that spelled “This dancing queen is getting married”. Very cute, and Namjoon appreciated the Mamma Mia reference. 

“Namjoon is having issues with Plum.” 

He rolled his eyes at your nickname being used by them. They always called you Tinkerbell anyways, why the sudden change? That was his own nickname for you, because of your cute, round face, and soft soft lineaments. And then also because of the taste of sun-dried plums in your mouth that time he kissed you in the pond, after that first, wondrous fuck. Maybe he hadn't satisfied you. Maybe his performance in the bathroom hadn't been as stellar. Maybe you'd already grown bored of him. 

“They're not issues,” Namjoon mumbled, vaguely grumpy. 

“Well, what are they, then? You fucked her and she's ghosting you?” Wooyoung asked bluntly. 

“Woo, no need to use that kind of language,” Christopher reprimanded. “Still, could that be the reason? She's maybe… Embarrassed about something that occurred the other day in the…” 

“You did it in the restroom!?” Mingi exclaimed. 

“A bit louder, Mingi, I think the guy in the corner over there didn't hear it clearly,” said Jaebeom with an eyeroll. 

“It was strange when we parted, yes, but… I guess there would have been other uhm… uncomfortable moments before. She would have bailed after the— uhm— the restroom. Not today? Why today? Why let so much time pass by?” 

Namjoon had always been an overthinker. He'd managed to control his tendencies through meditation and therapy, but once an overthinker, always an overthinker. Sure, you can put a damper on it, but it would be like putting a hyena in a clown costume: at the end of the day, it would still be a hyena. 

And he was struggling to find the words. He did not have the lingo for this. He did not have the nerves for this. He had not been mentally, emotionally engineered for this. 

“I know I fucked up. I'm sure I fucked up. I don't know where or how but—” 

“When I met my wife, I was a mess.” Jaebeom ran a hand through his hair and gave a weak chuckle. “I couldn't do without her. I spent weeks, months pining.” 

“It's your future wife, JB,” Jackson clarified.

“Fuck off, we're getting married, she's already my wife in my mind. One could argue she’s always been,” he snapped, a certain possessiveness taking over. “Anyways, I was saying, before this cold hearted snake interrupted—” 

“You were messing around, I made a move so you could feel the bitter bite of jealousy and realise you were wasting your time and your energies!” 

“As always, thank you for the lesson, but you didn't need to shove your tongue down her throat!” Jaebeom hissed at Jackson, then rolled his eyes. “Again, I was a mess. And I didn't know it, but she was a mess too. We only managed to fix it when we dragged our heads out of the sand and finally stated what we wanted.”

“Which, again, is something we told you to do cause you were a lowly little coward,” Christopher muttered. 

“Okay, whatever, just do what these two tell you to do,” Jaebeom said, exhausted, rubbing his face and picking up a glass shot. “Cheers to my wife, or whatever.”

“Poor woman,” Jackson whispered, which earned him a stormy look from the husband-to-be. “Anyways, what’s holding you back from going there and telling her what you want?”

“The fact that maybe I don’t even know what I want?” Namjoon but back, not without some exasperation. 

“What do you mean?” Christoper’s question was direct, firm. 

“I was… I haven’t been all that… active, lately.”

“By lately he means in the past eight years.” Everybody but Jackson turned to Namjoon, eyes wide, mouth gaping, the picture of disbelief. 

“What the fuck.” Wooyoung’s face was ashen before he shook his head lightly, “And why, for the love of holy smokes, did you punish yourself so?”

Namjoon stared at a glass shot, which Jackson noticed. He grabbed one shot for himself, one for his friend, then handed it over. 

Namjoon stared at it, but Jackson was already clinking their glasses together. “For the incredible woman who brought you back to life.”

“Life is fucking terrifying,” Namjoon whispered, anxiety bleeding out of him. But Jackson was tipping the glass over, the burning tang of tequila dribbling down his throat. 

“It really is, but you loved doing her, or you wouldn’t have done that twice.”

Namjoon’s brain promptly produced a supercut of every naked inch of your body, every curve, every movement, every flop of your hair, every gasp of your mouth, every droplet of moisture that your bodies shared in those moments. He recalled the feel of your breasts in his palms, the pressure of your behind as you ground against his groin. 

“Twice?” Mingi inquired, interested. 

“I’m not going to elaborate on that.”

Christopher respected the boundary, seeing Namjoon’s pained and tired expression. “What do you want from her?”

Namjoon shook his head. “I’ve got no idea. She’s leaving in a couple days. I mean, she’s lovely. But I’m not sure there’s enough time or space to build something more.”

“But you want more?”

“I do, eventually. But I thought it would happen with someone a bit more… Rooted. Here.” He was destroyed, Jackson could tell. Namjoon’s hair was all over the place with the way he’d tortured it with his hands. “But then she happened.”

“And it changed things, right?” Jaebeom asked. 

Namjoon stared at his feet. “The sex is so good. Just so, insanely, otherworldly, unbelievably good.”

“Let’s also say your terms of comparison were scarce,” Jackson added, teasing.

Namjoon smirked, then stared at Jackson for a long, loaded instant. “Both things can be true.” Then, he shrugged, toying with his fingers, smiling at himself. 

“He’s smitten,” Jaebeom said to no one in particular. 

“I guess I am,” he finally admitted. “Maybe it’s because the sex is good. That tends to alter your perception. I also think she’s attractive, and her energy is incredible. She’s also guarded, somehow, and delicate. It really makes me want to stand tall for her.”

“Knight in shining armour,” Wooyoung said with just a pinch of sarcasm in his tone.

“Which she doesn’t need,” Namjoon commented, puffing out his chest. “She’s just… She’s tough, but I just want her to know she doesn’t need to be when she’s around me. That’s what I like, I guess. And she’s unstoppable. She’s not the kind that would lie to you or put on an act to save her ass. She takes what she wants and she weathers the consequences of her own actions. And she’s a leader, she’s got backbone, she works great in a team, people see her, see how competent and hard-working she is, and they respect her for it.”

“Dude, you really are smitten.”

Namjoon grabbed another shot, and the other men quickly joined him. “To life-changing women,” said Jaebeom. 

Namjoon could happily toast to that. 

There… Just… there. 

So close. The lights were insulting his eyes, but his vision was clear. Oh so clear. 

The alcohol had made his eyes glossy and sensitive. And there. There, your door. 

He brought himself to climb the steps, then knock at the door. 

He wondered whether you were in bed. Maybe in the shower, maybe you were already asleep. Maybe you were… like that one time… 

His ears strained, searching for signs of you. 

He knocked again. He could call your phone, right? Did he have your number?

He could— 

The door opened before him, and you were standing there, an oversized white shirt covering your body all the way down to your knees. The fabric was thin and the chill night air was making your breasts peak. The sight of Namjoon right in front of you didn’t help at all. 

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless, and surprised too. 

“Hi.” The greeting was sharp, a little rushed. “I really would like to kiss you right now. Is that okay with you?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then nodded. 

He was upon you before you could even register him, or parse your agreement. His breath had the lightest taste of liquor, and his mouth was hot, as hot as his hands now cupping your face, gathering your face up close to his own. If he could have swallowed you, he would have. He dove for you and you soared for him and you met in between, perfectly, gentle but sure at first, and then it spiraled. 

This is what Icarus must have felt as he reached for the sun, you think, because you feel like burning and flying and falling. But isn't flying something like falling without ever hitting the ground? 

That's how you feel. 

Gravity isn't working where you and Namjoon kiss. It's not working as he wraps and links and loops his limbs through yours, legs and arms and wrists and ankles like ivy. Your thighs are around his waist, and he's holding you up by your hips, then your ass. 

“I'm coming in,” he says and you nod against his lips, waiting for him to come inside you, and you grind against him. Instead he chuckled against your throat, catching the double entendre. “I meant I'm entering your apartment.” 

You purred, heat warming your cheeks, but you were not sure whether it was embarrassment or pleasure. “But you could get inside me next.” 

“There's stuff I need to tell you,” he whispered close to your ear. 

“Can you tell me while you're inside me?” 

Namjoon's laugh was bright and glorious, perfectly rough and warm, the most tasteful combination of a scratch and a caress. “Plum, you're insatiable.” 

You looked at him with surprise, and just a pinch of innocence too. “I— Am I?” 

He closed the door with his foot, still holding you up in the entryway. “It's positively surprising. And very lovely.” 

You nodded to yourself in slow understanding. “Lovely…” you mused. “I never thought I would become something like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Insatiable. Obsessed. Weak and dependent.” 

“You're absolutely not weak. And maybe it's not too bad to depend on someone every now and then.” His nose traced the column of your neck. “And it feels nice, knowing that you're a bit hung up.” 

You cant your hips just right against his, which causes you both to moan, your frown disappearing. “‘A bit hung up’ doesn't even cover half of it, trust me.” 

Your short nails bite the nape of his neck and he gasps a little, his hips giving the lightest stroke.

“I'm a bit of all of that too,” Namjoon confesses. “Insatiable. And obsessed. And… And weak.” He shakes his head, then hides his face against the slope of your neck. “I…” 

You smiled as he lost his words again, his mouth focusing on sucking at your throat. 

Your chuckle came out lightheaded and euphoric. It stopped entirely as he fixed his grip on your hips, lifting you higher up with a little bounce, and then lowering you again, against his crotch. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on anything but the burning need at your core. 

He nibbled at your collarbone, then whispered, “Fuck, you're so wet.” There was tension in his voice, conflict. “But I've gotta tell you all of that.” 

“We can do this, and then talk,” you suggested again, your voice coming out barely patient, and strained. Oh, and imploring too. 

He shook his head, then put you down. “Talk first, then I'll do anything you want, Plum.” 

You pouted, which almost broke his resolve, but he caressed your cheek and your frown disappeared like a spring cloud. 

“First, I just want to make sure you didn't stay in today because you were avoiding me.” His eyes betrayed a sliver of insecurity before he looked away, staring at the floor. 

You’re caught off guard by his statement, and you’re not sure how to reply. Did he really think—? “Absolutely not!” You exclaimed, hooking your pointer finger beneath his chin and bringing his eyes to yours. “No, Namjoon. Sure, I’ve been…” You searched for the right word for a couple seconds, “Confused. By some of the things I felt yesterday. But I am not avoiding you at all. I just needed to be off today, and rest. And maybe think about some stuff, but none of it had to do with you,” you stated, reassuringly and firmly, then reconsidered, a coy warmth creeping to your cheeks. “Well, maybe it had the tiniest bit something to do with you. But not in a bad way. Actually in a very good, very mature, very grown-up way.”

Namjoon almost startled at your statement, his head jerking back slightly. “Oh. Wow. Okay.” 

“Oh goodness, you thought I was avoiding you?” You asked him, a smile spreading all over your face. “Really!?” 

“No,” he said, the vowel stretching, his intonation absolutely hesitant, absolutely doubtful, and very, very embarrassed. 

You threw your arms around him, gluing your body to his. “Oh god. Joon, no.” You laid a couple kisses on his chest, then added, “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” he stated. “Still, I was absolutely sure you weren’t avoiding me. So this statement is totally unnecessary and it doesn’t calm my nerves at all, because they were already one hundred percent calm.”

You roll your eyes and place your forehead and nose in a way that aligns perfectly with the valley between his pectorals. “Good, now can you calm my own? Historically, someone telling you ‘I need to tell you something’ doesn’t end in a nice way.” The nervous chuckle you emit then is a clear testament to how much he has become to you. How much you have elaborated in the last hours, corroborating your decisions. 

This is not going to be forever, you think, but I wouldn’t mind if it lasted a bit more. 

Namjoon caressed your head, kissing the crown of it. “It’s nothing big, really. Just a tiny bit of backstory that I think you should know. It sorts of explains some parts of me that could be complicated to other people. Parts I would like you to know about.”

Summertime must be approaching, or maybe the heating came on: anyways you’re feeling hotter and hotter, and you’re pretty sure it’s a flock of tropical birds that is currently storming your stomach. 

“Okay.”

”Let’s get comfy, shall we?”

You agree, then lead him through the room. It’s not the first time he sees it, after all he did sleep here with you a couple nights ago, before he left at dawn for some reason, leaving you on the verge of insanity with desire and doubt both.

He sits at the edge of the bed and you stand before him, ready to climb astride him, except he shakes his head and smiles mischievously. “No way this is happening,” he teased, then slid slightly to his right, avoiding your other leg, letting you sit at his side rather than on top of him. “You’re too dangerous sitting on my lap, Plum.”

He says it in a way that makes it sound like a compliment, and you grin, eyeing him seductively. “Thank you.”

You both turn to each other, and he starts talking. “It’s been a while since I did this, you know. Being… Being intimate with someone.”

You nodded. “You mentioned something about a relationship you used to be in.”

He grabbed your hand, toying with your fingers, looking away, as if retracting within himself. “I’ve had one very long relationship. From fifteen, all the way to twenty years old circa.”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. “Wow.” 

“We were extremely close friends at first, then we sort of merged into the relationship until… I guess we just became too different to ever truly be one.”

You nodded encouragingly. 

“Her mom and mine were colleagues when we moved here. I was five or six.” His eyes connected to yours. “I was shy and she was very outgoing. We became friends. Or rather, she befriended me. I was one of those puffy, awkward kids, sort of a nerd too.”

He shrugged and blushed, his eyes gleaming. “In middle school she suddenly changed. She had one of those incredible glow ups. I guess puberty hit her like — I don’t know — suddenly she looked like Aphrodite’s favourite child. She was… She was like a goddess. Being attracted to her was inevitable. I liked her as a person, because she was my first friend here, and because I felt comfortable around her, and she didn’t make fun of me like other people, she didn’t act like I was weird and weak and chubby and awkward. And even though she became so beautiful, and so popular too, she was still kind to me, and treated me like a person.” Namjoon slumped, his stance turning self-protective.  

“Once we hit high school, she’d learned how to use the body genetics had gifted her. She filled it with confidence, and it rewarded her in return. Her attitude and her looks were the kind that spells trouble for a hormonal teenage boy. But despite that, I still cherished her the most as a friend, and the fact that she continued protecting me in front of popular kids making fun of me was really meaningful. I admired her for how she stood up in front of mean kids. She had the kind of influence that could make other kids respect me, or at least tolerate me.”

You held his hand fondly. “I get it.”

His eyes met yours with gratitude, and a pinch of hesitation. 

“And then I turned fifteen.”

You lick your lips, tip your head to the side and observe the smirk on his face. “In about three months, I grew taller than all the kids in my class, and though I wasn’t bulky like the football athletes, I played basketball with a friend of mine, and that kept me pretty fit, plus there was all the trekking and some climbing, and the canoeing too. I was also quite smart, and for some reason, some girls liked that. When we got back to school after summer break, I caught this girl’s eye. We were chatting, and things were getting personal and I ended up confiding in my friend, Aria.” His eyebrow quirked. “She didn’t take it well.”

You frowned, then waited for him to continue. 

“She gave me the silent treatment for three days straight. Meanwhile I was getting closer and closer to the other girl. One day I was talking to her by the lockers, and next thing I know, Aria is gripping my hand, gluing her body to my arm, and kissing my cheek. ‘Hi boyfriend,’ she said.” He shook his head. “The other girl didn’t take it well. She thought I was playing her.” He rubbed the hand across his face. “It took me years to make up for that.” He shook off the feeling, then continued, “By the end of the week, the entire school knew Aria and I were a thing. The week after that, we were making out pretty much anywhere, anytime. I guess it took us about a month before things got extremely serious, and Aria got on birth control because her mother was terrified at the thought of her getting pregnant, and teenage moms were so common back then, and she knew Aria was not really the religious type. She also had the kind of body that gets hyper sexualised because of pornography, you know. Of course any teenage boy would want to see it naked as soon as possible. And eventually do things with. Or have things done by. You get what I mean,” he concluded. 

You nodded. “Did you?” 

He laughed. “I was terrified. I wouldn’t have known where to start with it. And sure, I watched as much porn as any other dude my age, but it’s not like I was eager to reenact it in real life. It felt complicated, and loud, and dirty. So damn dirty.” He frowned and smiled at the same time. “It didn’t feel right.”

You study his face, the slight repulsion he seems to radiate from his body. 

“Then one night we were watching a movie — which actually means we were making out in my bed — and we were so damn close, and of course my body went haywire and… Let’s say she realised I was pretty interesting down there.”

You furrow your brow, trying to understand what he’s implying. “You mean…?” 

“She’d never felt me up, and that night she realised I was big.” The words didn’t come out with arrogance, but with a dry matter-of-factness. 

Your eyes widen suddenly, and he laughs a little, the sound deep and warm, and it sends tingles down your spine. “Oh.”

“That’s about what I said, too.” He smirked, blushing wildly. “Luckily I managed to hold her back that night, because I truly wasn’t ready, and I really wanted to get things right. So I bought condoms online, because I was too ashamed to buy them in person, and I kind of panicked for three days straight because I was terrified my mom or my dad would find out and get mad or make fun of me or whatever. And I did some research on… You know. The kind of stuff you have to erase from your browsing history.”

You chuckle, nodding. Hearing all of this is somehow fascinating. Knowing he was so clumsy, so embarrassed, and yet so committed to making it as safe and right and good as possible. It’s endearing somehow. Not only is he a good man now, but he was a good boy too, and it makes him shine even brighter to your eyes, this commitment to goodness.

“Still, I was not ready, emotionally. But she was impatient, and in the end I said, ‘screw it’ and I gave in. We were sixteen, we were two days into winter break, and this friend of mine has this little cottage by a small lake. He’d left me the keys to the cottage. We went there, and we had sex. I was terrified I was going to hurt her, because I’d read about first time sex being painful and all the fuss about hymens et cetera. But it went surprisingly well. I came in about fifteen seconds.”

You both laugh. “I guess I got lucky.”

He eyes you significantly. “You’ve got no idea how much.” 

“And then?” 

“And then we spend the entirety of winter break doing stuff.” He shrugs. “I could have done without, sometimes, but she was always trying to start trouble. And I wasn’t too strong about telling her no. But let’s be clear, it’s not like she was abusive or something, I was happy to have sex with her. I liked it a lot, and she had my consent, always, before doing things. But at the same time, I knew I was losing some of my connection with her. There was less talking, less quality time, less… We were having sex all the time. We didn’t watch movies, we didn’t read books, we didn’t hang out or you know, the stuff you actually share with someone. All we had was each other’s body and our own. There’s only so much a brain can feed off that. But we weathered it. And she was possessive, so it’s not like I had the chance of finding that with someone else. And the sex made me feel so lucky, knowing that I had someone who loved me so fiercely, someone so out of my league — it all made me feel like I should be grateful and I would be an idiot complaining, or looking for anything else, or trying to change the situation in any way.”

That’s when the pain starts to blossom in your chest. “So you start neglecting your emotional needs.” 

Namjoon nods slowly. “That. Precisely.” His eyes focus on your hands again, trying to avoid your face because he knows his expression might show too much now. “But we’re seventeen by this point. The sex starts to slow down, and we get some of the friendship back. I get a lot less awkward around eighteen, and my resumé is one of the brightest in my class. I’m in the debate team, and I’m in national competitions for writers. I write poetry, and short stories too; I win some prizes, I get published in a paper, then in a review.” 

“That’s impressive.” 

“I’m starting to live my dream life. I get selected in a summer programme for young writers. Aria is very proud of me. I get better at sex too, in the meanwhile.” He gives a boyish shrug. “I start planning my life with her at my side. By the time high school ends, I’ve managed to get a bit less awkward too, and Aria has fixed my haircut and my wardrobe. She gets selected by a university in California for a volleyball scholarship. It scares the shit out of me, but she accepts. She’s convinced we can make it long distance. I get into some niche writing academy on the east coast. 

It’s winter break when we see each other again.We’re all partying by the lake, me and her and some of our friends. We’re all so damn drunk, damn, I couldn’t even count the fingers of my hands. We’re all sitting by the fire when she leans against me and says, ‘You know why I’m sure we’re gonna make it?’ And I smile because I think she’s going to say something cheesy, something about the ring I bought with the money I made from the first short story I actually sold.”

You smile so bright at that, at his success, at such a huge milestone for someone who made writing his path, his vocation — and then it clicks.

Cuisine is your calling, you’ve always known, and that’s one of the first things you tell people when you introduce yourself. If he’s never mentioned writing then it means it never came true. Horror creeps in. 

“She said, ‘we’re gonna make it because I’ve fucked about twenty or so other people, but you still love me. And you’re the fucking best’.” He stops, snickers, and there’s so much self-loathing in the way he moves, the way he breathes. “I went stone cold sober in a millisecond. I asked her to repeat, to make sure I understood correctly. I laughed it off, excused myself to the bathroom, and cried my fucking eyes out. Threw up about three times or eight, then locked myself in a room. The following morning, I left before dawn, returned to my college with my mom. Returned the ring. And broke up with Aria through a text. Changed number. I detached myself from the entire world, disappeared for about a year, except for the people that truly mattered. I finished my programme in record time, mostly because Yoongi needed me back here, and well… I mostly finished school because I had to, but I never went back to writing. It’s like I’d been emptied, and to this day I’m not sure words will ever truly fill me again. I’m not sure they will ever spill from me again, or that I’ll find a way to make them flow like I used to.”

This is so wrong. You end up saying the words out loud. 

“I haven’t dated anyone since then. And I haven’t had sex with someone since the summer before I turned twenty.” 

“That’s seven years, isn’t it?” You ask, making sure you remember his age correctly. 

“It is.”

You whistle, impressed. “That’s… She really mess you up.” 

“I just changed lifestyle. No sex, no smoking, no heavy drinking. Just me, my plants, nature, my job. I love it. It fulfills me.” 

“And no writing? You don’t miss it?” 

He shrugs, and it looks like he’s trying very hard to act like he doesn’t care. But he so blatantly does care. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had.” 

“I think you had it, though. And I think it will come back for you.”

He sighs. “I won’t hold my breath.”

You shake your head. 

“She’s engaged to one of my high school classmates now.” His laugh is bitter. “He proposed last Christmas. Getting married this summer.”

You hesitate around his fingers. Is he still hung up on her?

His eyes meet yours. “And I get mad because I think a part of me still thinks it was supposed to be me. And I hate that part of me. I also hate the part of me that is still hurt over what she did. The part of me that remembers all that sex, and wonders whether it was ever real.” He bites his lip, and he looks mad, truly. “All of this means, I’ve been hurt before, ____, and that messes with my head sometimes. The day I met you, I was attracted to you almost instantly, and that made me trust myself less around you, and it made me doubt you too. I was terrified at how much I wanted you, and the way my body reacted to yours. The way I dreamt of you. And knowing you wanted me too— It terrified me and electrified me at the same time. You’ve been the first woman I’ve wanted, really wanted, in years. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed hot and cold, but I don’t know what to do with myself. You’ve been nothing but transparent with me, and I know this thing with me and you can hardly go anywhere—”

You go impossibly still next to him and he notices, also in the way your fingers get rigid and seem to retract from his touch. 

“This is all to say, I really want to thank you for being so honest with me so far. And I’m sorry for any weird behaviour I’ve had. It’s just that her betrayal messed with me more than I’d like to admit. And I don’t like people getting too close, but I couldn’t help it with you, and I’m not too happy with the idea that this is temporary.”

You try to align your thoughts correctly, trying to make them make sense. “What do you mean?” 

Namjoon inches closer. “With what?” 

“You’re not okay with this being temporary?” You paraphrase. 

Namjoon grips both your hands, then gets even closer. “You’re here on holiday, we’ve known each other for days, and I’m scared that again it’s just sex pulling me to you. Just some infatuation. I mean, you can’t start having feelings for someone in days. Or maybe you can, maybe I do feel something for you, just the roughest draft of a feeling, but it’s okay if you don’t. I’ve always been pretty sensitive and impressionable, especially with emotions.” He stares at you, really does, like he’s trying to read your mind. “I don’t know whether there’s solid evidence that this could be something more than a holiday fling. I just think it’s precious that I found you, that I got to feel this with you. I’m grateful for it, were it to end, or were it to turn into something deeper, something more structured, more lasting.” 

“Namjoon,” you whisper. Silence hoovers heavily on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I… I exaggerated. I’m too much. Too fast.” He inched away from you, closing off, already hating himself for scaring you off. 

“No,” you murmur kindly, stretching to reach his face, pulling him back closer. “I want you. Want this. Letting go will hurt, but as you said, I’m grateful too for this. This will be bittersweet, but it can teach us something.” Does it make sense, wanting to let go of everything for three very excellent fucks? This must be the sex. It must be the very excellent sex. The orgasms, and the hormones, and the dopamine, and all the stress you’ve been collecting like star stickers from your working at the restaurant. Maybe the long overdue hours of sleep and fucking you need to catch up on. 

You can’t be thinking this while sober, go figure talking about it. “I’m considering making some changes in my life. Maybe this could be the beginning of something different.” 

“It feels unsafe that both of us are truly considering this.” Namjoon speaks like he’s pulling back, except his body is caving in, molding to yours. “If you don’t pull back, I’ll go all in.” 

“You know when we finished yesterday,” and then you add, cheeks hot with shame “in the restroom.”

He hums, his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, and you refuse to resist it. “I remember some bits of it, yes.” His leg slots deliciously between yours, and you follow his lead, purring at the pressure, delicious pressure where your core throbs. 

“It felt like you were taking care of me, for a second. At the pond in the woods too. You’re so caring, and it would be so easy to let myself lean in, get attached. It terrifies me. Because this is supposed to be just a fling, right?” 

“Except we could let it mean more. Invest more in this.” Your bodies are already doing that. Your brains too, because neither of you might be showing their cards, but you both are calculating how much adjusting would need to be done in order for this to work, doing the math of meeting halfway and spending one weekend here, one weekend there, and what’s a two hours drive when you can finally start using your paid leave days, the amount of which has turned insurmountable at this point. 

“Is it worth it? Or are we just high on hormones?” You wonder, but words are starting to come difficult on you, especially with the way his hand is tracing your spine under your shirt. 

“See, that’s what I was wondering too.” Namjoon has pinned your hands above your head, and you’re on your back now, his body strong above you, his heartbeat loud, his chest glued to yours, and his thigh firm between your core, hot and pulsing and wet. “So maybe we should sweat some of these hormones off and see if we still think about this once we’re a little more… sober.”

You nod, as if stunned and hypnotised at the same time. 

“Plum, tell me what you need,” he whispered. 

“Inside. I want you inside.” You lowered your hands to his shorts, undoing the ribbon there. “I never thought I’d be a sucker for being filled to the brim. But you, you…” you shake your head, frustration all over your face. “Clenching around you, squeezing you… I could come from that alone. I wake up from dreams of what we did in the woods. We do it here. We do it in the shower. We do it by the pool. By the lake. In the woods, again, and against the wall. I think about sex with you all the time.”

Namjoon slips two fingers in his mouth as you talk, wetting them, but also using his spit to roughly, rudimentarily get rid of some bacteria. 

He slides his fingers inside you effortlessly and you gasp, then grind on him immediately. He grins like a madman at your reaction and feels himself growing harder too. 

“Does sex with me make you feel dirty, like it did with her?” You ask him, the previous conversation making its comeback on your mind.

”Oh, Plum. Sex with you is the holiest thing I’ve ever done. Sex with her felt like a sin, but this? You said sex to you was like a naked handshake. You can’t go to hell for something like that. But for this? Plum, I’d go to hell for this, and still, I’d choose this on any fucking lifetime I get.”

You slam your lips to his, and there’s nothing kind, nothing polite, nothing romantic about it. Yet, it’s the most romantic kiss you’ve ever had. It’s frantic, and desperate and needy, and his fingers scissor inside you, stretching you as best and as quick as they can. He can’t wait to be inside you either. 

“That was poetry,” you tell him. “You just spoke in poetry. We had naked handshakes. Now we get this. We get naked poetry.” He sucks at your neck and you bloom even more open for him. “I’m going to make such good love to you that you won’t help writing fucking cheesy pop ballads about it.”

He laughed against you, the sound so beautiful you swore your heart could glow golden with joy. 

“Alright, bet.”

Navi: (comìng soon)

[kirk-spock-fics]

All Time Fandom Favourites

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explicit TW: implied childhood sexual abuse aos, kirk/spock kid fic, fake marriage, getting together, first time words: 64,624 'When Jim gets it in his head to adopt an eight year old Vulcan, Spock presents a logical solution to the issue of Jim's humanity: marriage to a Vulcan citizen.'

Sha Ka Ree by ThereBeWhalesHere ★

explicit tos, kirk/spock, au canon divergence slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, falling in love words: 180,505 'The year is 2258. Jim Kirk is a Lieutenant on the U.S.S. Farragut, Spock the science officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise. When the ships come together for a priority landing party, these two strangers find themselves fighting against the odds for a chance at life in an alien world, and the only way they'll make it through is by relying on each other.'

Warm Thoughts by lettered ★

teen tos, kirk/spock mind melds, hurt/comfort, episode: amok time words: 22,296 'Kirk contracts a condition that makes him feel perpetually cold. Spock has to perform mind melds to convince Kirk he’s warm.'

Bitter Dregs by kinklock ★

explicit tos, kirk/spock angst with a happy ending, mind melds, episode: plato's stepchildren 'When they had first met, Jim had known not to touch his hand.'

this is what happens when you save earth, apparently by WerewolvesAreReal ★

teen tos, kirk/spock, post-canon getting together, fluff, humour, post-five year mission, starfleet academy words: 5,454 '“So, why haven't you settled down with some lucky lady yet?” the interviewer asks. Maybe it's the blinding set-lights, or the fact that he hasn't slept in thirty-five hours. But for some reason Kirk blurts, “Honestly, they all end up getting jealous of Spock.”'

You Could Call It Love by lurikko ★

mature tos, kirk/spock, post-canon getting together, fake/pretend marriage, slow burn, unresolved sexual tension words: 45,791 'If marrying Spock is what it’s going to take to get them both back on Enterprise for another five-year mission, then Jim Kirk damn well is going to marry Spock.'

Spice by eimeo ★

explicit tos, tos movies, kirk/spock, kirk/others post-series, TMP, post-TMP, slow burn, realllly slow burn, angst with a happy ending, getting together, getting back together, mutual pining words: 276,553 'It’s a question of biology. Vulcan biology. The problem with falling in love with a member of an insanely private species is that it just might take you the best part of a five year mission to work out that the feelings are requited. And then you might discover that he’s already decided that the two of you can never be together. And what are you supposed to do if he won’t tell you why?'

An Excercise In Setting Oneself On Fire by alestairwrites ★

teen tos, kirk/spock fluff, getting together, accidental ashayam, misunderstandings words: 5,017 '“Ashayam, I must disagree.” There’s silence for a moment, and it takes Spock less than a second to realise the mistake he’s made. He allows himself a single moment to close his eyes, before opening them to face his fate.'

Unspoken by williamspockspeare ★

teen CW: mild descriptions of violence tos, kirk/spock t'hy'la, tarsus iv, drunkeness, fluff, angst with a happy ending, 5+1 '“If even in dreams, Jim lacked the courage to say the words, when would he ever say it?” Or 5 times Jim Kirk stopped himself from saying I love you + 1 time he didn’t.'

Desert Rose by Borealisblue ★

mature tos, kirk/spock, au spock didn't join starfleet slow burn, soulmates, bonding, mutual pining, vulcan culture, vulcan kisses, mind melds, first kiss, falling in love, slash words: 135,649 'The Captain of the USS Enterprise is sent to Vulcan on behalf of the Federation to assist in the discovery of some ancient ruins. The ruins' very existence may be a threat to Vulcanian Society because they hint at a mythical bond long ago lost. But before their select team is able to seek them out, they must first study up on the old culture within the ancient libraries of ShiKahr city, accompanied under the supervision and tutelage of a professor from the local Vulcan Science Academy, a Mr. Spock.'

[asteria7fics]

Can we have some of your personal style headcanons?

Why yes, dear anon, you absolutely can!

I'll only share SFW ones here, but if you're interested in NSFW ones please let me know d(･∀･○)

This also contains some mild spoilers for the fic I'm currently working on - NOT The Song of Broflovski. If you'd rather go into that totally blind, then maybe skip this answer. Otherwise, read on!

Alright, so let's start from the beginning. I personally write Kyle as figuring out his feelings first, while Stan acts on them first. Neither one is stoked on the idea of coming out (Stan for Randy-trauma related reasons, Kyle for Cartman-trauma related ones) so they don't publicly come out/start actually dating until late high school when they know they're about to skip town and move away to college.

That doesn't stop them from messing around of course, but I'll save that info for a NSFW drop. (¬‿¬)

I also really like the idea of their relationship not changing massively even after they've become an official couple. They still fight, they still do a lot of the same activities together, and they never really adopt any pet names outside of still calling one another 'dude' all the damn time. Just two straight dudes in love, honestly.

Kyle is Stan's #1 defender, and will go to war with douchebags in the comments of Stan's social media posts (hard headcanon him as still being a musician/leaning really hard into his passion for music. Crimson Dawn is definitely still a thing in the Asteriaverse). You dare to talk shit about Stanley Marsh on the internet?? In front of God and everyone?? Baby you're getting doxed. Bye.

He also just unironically loves the music Stan makes, with Crimson Dawn and otherwise. Like, shitty phone recording from a performance as his ringtone kinda love. I think Kyle would have pretty eclectic music taste in general, but I like the idea of them bonding over the kind of stuff Stan would want to make.

I like to think Stan is more of a bad/freeing influence on Kyle. My Kyle has a little bit of a stick up his ass, especially as he gets older and there's more pressure on him to excel in school. Stan really becomes the person that wraps him up in a blanket after a long day of studying, passes him a drink and puts on Monty Python so they both can just relax and have fun together.

And they're absolutely the guys at the party standing in the corner by the drinks, cracking jokes to one another while they watch everyone else make complete asses of themselves. Just in their own little world, until they get properly drunk and end up making out in a bathroom or some shit. Just messy bitches.

They simultaneously communicate extremely well and absolutely horribly. They have the kind of connection where one look says it all, but when it comes down to deeper issues and arguments they're both trash at communicating their feelings. Kyle gets too heated and just starts RANTING while Stan can barely articulate a singular feeling. Eventually Stan figures out that he kinda just has to let Kyle get his shit off his chest and eventually he'll calm down enough to help Stan sort out his feelings too, but those first couple years? Rough haha no smooth sailing for my boys I'm afraid.

Alright, I'm gonna stop here because I could probably sit here and talk about these losers all day. These are pretty surface level, both because I don't want to spoil too much and because I'm always forming new headcanons for them! Really specific ones usually come to me in the moment while I'm writing, so I'll definitely come up with more before this next project is finished!

Thank you very much for the ask!! ( ´⌣`ʃƪ)

[albusthefakepitbull]

just scrolling your blog a bit and stumbled across a post asking about Sensitive Tummy Foods. i work at a training kennel so trialing tummy issues has been much of my life so i was going to pitch a bunch of stuff i've seen work in my experience, but for me the first thing i think of if a dog is consistently having runny shits is phasing out chicken-based foods. mild allergies to chicken can be pretty common, and so can beef allergies ngl. you mentioned using nulo, and we actually tried a pair of standard poodles in our guide dog program on nulo because they had a round of giardia as puppies and their stomachs have been fried ever since, and on nulo one of the boys managed to shit UP a wall, so don't worry lol you're not the only one with adverse experiences on that kibble lol

1. we had a lot of success with inukshuk. it's expensive so it's not the only option i'll throw at you, but it's a performance kibble with a higher calorie density and i've seen a lot of dogs do well on it. my personal dog is on inukshuk marine 16 because his gastrointestinal system does horrible things when in contact with chicken, it's probably the best kibble i've given him. if you have an inukshuk distributor in your area the price can halve though so i'd shop around and see if anyone has The Goods

2. pumpkin is a classic belly calming potion, if it's just mildish diarrhea you might have some success just adding a tablespoon of pumpkin puree to meals. propectalin is also a useful supplement for tummy issues and my life would be unlivable without it, it's expensive which sucks but it lasts a while. vets actually prescribe propectalin for dogs with IBS which is so funny to me like you can get it cheaper than prescription of amazon this is like doggie pepto bismol. in my experience propectalin has worked better as a probiotic than fortiflora does, but fortiflora does have a marked effect, and is a good compromise for price. we also used probios, which is definitely effective particularly for dogs with highly explosive stomach issues resistant to everything else; it's a probiotic designed originally for livestock with some combinations blended specifically for dogs. the people hocking goats' milk are dumb though lol. goats' milk does not help in most cases, it can increase inflammation in the GI tract which is the last thing you want for a Shitter On The Loose

NOTE: if you find your boy has issues with beef, DO NOT give propectalin, it has beef in it. you will have a bad day. learn from my mistakes

3. one thing to play with are organ meats. sometimes diarrhea isn't always Belly Inflammation but an imbalance of nutrition, and sometimes an easy fix is picking up some chicken hearts or dried sheep liver and playing a bit. i won't wade into raw food discourse here, but as a warning, if you do take this advice in the direction of purchasing raw items, just know that most dogs have slightly looser stools on a raw diet compared to a kibble only diet, so if you do transition and you're like wtf? that's a pretty normal thing

and random only somewhat related doggie supplement advice i'm pitching just because it's cool: B12 is more effective as a calming supplement than CBD or melatonin. i kinda think most calming supplements are total bullshit but B12 is effective ime not because it provides an innate calming effect but because it addresses a nutritional issue that leads to that effect. as a human i personally start seeing the hat man if i forget to address a particular nutrient so i understand, puppies.

anyway i hope some of this helps your poor teenage mal and his belly troubles! wishing u and ur pups the best and i hope my phd in dog shit can be of assistance to you

i’m saving this for future use thank you for all the info :)

[aranarumei]

hi kiri What’s the deal with a3’s timeloop day. you shouldn’t be surprised that I am asking this. okay I love you bye

ok this is actually a pretty simple answer! but i got rambly so here's a readmore.

A3! (which stands for Act! Addict! Actors! <- don’t ask me why it’s this. idk) is a gacha game where you play as the manager, Izumi Tachibana (I’m doing first name, last name here) and you work to revive a dying theater company called Mankai. there’s 3 Acts, each with like, 4 big stories in them. and a bunchhhh of shorter event storiess which imo are crucial to experience. The first 2 acts, along with the interceding events, have been completely localized, and were run on the now-defunct English server. There is, however, an archive—if at any point in time you are ever interested, feel free to shoot me a message. And I’m serious. Even if it’s like two years later. It’s been like almost 3 years since I started going thru a3 and I haven’t even finished act 2. I’m slow

Anyways, Act 1 deals with establishing the company—in its former glory, there used to be four troupes that rotated by season. Izumi’s dad also used to run it, and he disappeared. So that’s why there’s four big stories each act: it’s one per season. In Act 1, each story deals with gathering the members for each season troupe together, and then pulling off their first play. And it also deals with like, the issues all the characters are facing. It is like, within the yumejoshi genre so there’s definitely that vibe of like. wow look at all these pretty boys who are kind of into me!? but I think it’s pretty mild on that point and like. something I enjoy is that I can see Izumi as like. an actual Character as opposed to just a self-insert. Which is nice. but the real selling point for me is that there’s a lot of like, found family and rich character dynamics within the cast. It is even homosexual sometimes.

One thing I find really interesting about a3 is that I think it has really strong character writing and development. And it’s really good at establishing different “moods” across each troupe, which works well in creating dynamics and also because each troupe specializes in something different. So spring is like, the “classic” troupe—they tend to do lots of reinterpretations of classic works, though that’s not exclusively their thing… but anyways. they do like. nice fantastical stories in my opinion. Summer does comedy, autumn does action, and winter does drama. and winter HAS drama.

Now up until winter there’s been some wackiness in a3 but it’s been like, pretty grounded in how it’s played out. and then winter rolls around and. see the issue with winter is that unlike some of the younger members they’re all composed of adults. so they’re bad at talking about their feelings, because instead of just shouting things out loud they will just shut down and like. Leave. I love this about them and I think it’s such a good writing choice.

Enter Tasuku Takato and Tsumugi Tsukioka. Tasuku and Tsumugi used to be like, the best of friends. they acted together and followed their passions together. and then they both auditioned for the God Troupe together, which is this prestigious famous troupe (it’s also evil.) and while tasuku got in and became one of the lead actors, tsumugi failed his audition. This left a deep scar on Tsumugi, who ended up kind of running away from acting as a vocation all together. now, Tasuku quit the God troupe because they were engaging in some shady stuff, and ended up joining Mankai along with Tsumugi, who coincidentally was inspired to try acting again. tsumugi’s been elected the leader of winter troupe, and therefore the person who’s meant to take the lead role in their first play. Tasuku is constantly snapping at him whenever he’s unconfident, and it’s just not great vibes. To top it all off, they’ve been issued a challenge by the God troupe, where they’ll both perform and the audience has to vote on which play they like better. Tsumugi is not really confident he can stand up to them for obvious reasons. Tasuku gets mad at him about it. Tsumugi runs into this weird doll, and the next day, they wake up in a time loop.

See, the thing is, they’re on such a tight deadline for the play, and winter is So Bad at talking about their feelings, that magic is real now. this is somewhat of an oversimplification, but it’s funny to say it like this. Anyways, there are like, seven mysteries in Mankai (have I mentioned they all dorm together! they all do! Each of them has a roommate and they all live in a big dorm that’s connected to their own theater and stage. It’s part of why they’re in such big debt and trouble at the beginning—its really hard to maintain those facilities) and one of them is about this doll that will put you in a time loop unless you become friends. essentially. And this is what happens… eventually they end up talking to each other for real due to the time loop, and each affirms just how much they respect the acting of the other. later on when Tsumugi slips back into being unconfident tasuku is able to resolve his past mistakes, because part of why he was so angry at Tsumugi was also because he was angry at himself for like. not reaching out. And telling him how much he loved him and his acting. Because their styles are very different—tasuku is loud and commanding, and Tsumugi is a more understated and subtle.

A3 is also very very cool in that parts of its plays mirror real life? so like. this play, sympathy for an angel, has two leads: Michael (Tsumugi) and Raphael (Tasuku). In it, Michael becomes interested in this woman on a list of people who are about to die, and ends up visiting the human world. He writes letters to her. His friend, Raphael, warns him against this, saying that he’s foolish for going so far for someone he can’t even meet. And each time he steps into the human world, his own soul gets weaker, and his wings begin to wither. Still, he persists against objections. Eventually, the woman recovers, gets a fiancé, and he returns to heaven. Thinking he’ll just wish for her happiness even with his unrequited love, he looks at the list and finds out that despite recovering, she’s still on the close to death list. Despite the danger to himself, he descends into the human world, and takes her place in a car accident. As he’s dying, his soul about to be obliterated because he’s been in the human world too often, Raphael descends and holds him in his arms. Michael says that he’s happy he got to do something for the person he loves, and he’s happy to be held by his best friend. Raphael says that though he’d called Michael the fool, it was him that truly was one: because he stood by, unable to protect both the person he loves and his best friend. Because he was in love with Michael the whole time of course. And then Michael dies in his arms. Now this makes me weepy as does the accompanying character song but what I really love most about it is like. Raphael’s regrets in that he didn’t protect Michael kind of directly mirror Tasuku’s own regrets in being unable to help Tsumugi when he was going through a tough time? only Tsumugi isn’t dead and so Tasuku has an actual chance to fix things, which is sweet.

It should be mentioned that one guy in the spring troupe WRITES all of these plays which is deeply funny to me bc it means that 1) he is probably gay and doesn’t know this and 2) he has precognitive abilities regarding the inner psyche of all of his castmates. and that’s a3 timeloop day. some of these a3 characters have me by the throat btw I just get beamed visions of them chatting and introspecting like constantly. I definitely haven’t explained everything but I think this is enough?

[eelfuneral]

Hey I just want you to know I appreciate you. Can you tell me some more things you love about Tech?

Thank you so much, and same to you!

Some great things about Tech are:

1. His enthusiasm for learning and knowledge. He’s always curious, even in situations where you think he wouldn’t have time to be inquisitive. His mind is always working and absorbing.

2. Though he is smart and can come off as arrogant to some (mostly because his social skills aren’t great), he’s a genuinely very caring person who knows what his values are and sticks with them. This man would do anything for his family and hates fascism.

3. He’s a really physically skilled character and it’s so much fun to watch him in action. Even though he seems to slip and stumble a bit more than other people due to what is likely mild gross motor issues, he can still perform some wild physical feats like flipping as he jumps down from a ledge or rolling with loaded blasters in both hands.

4. He sees the world differently because his brain is wired differently, and instead of wishing that he had a “normal brain”, he uses it to his advantage. Tech takes in every possible detail at once and sees patterns that others don’t. He’s saved himself and others numerous times by trusting in his observations.

5. Tech is unapologetically himself, and he feels no need to alter who he is to be palatable to others. Tech is Tech, and you are always going to get Tech when you interact with him.

I could go on and on because Tech is my Special Boy, but I’ll stop it here so you won’t be here reading this answer all morning!

[rsrengineering]

Singapore’s Best Wood Decking Installation | RSR Engineering

We offer high-quality wood decking installations at affordable prices. Trust RSR Engineering for durable, stylish decking solutions. Contact us today.

Enhance Your Outdoor Space with Wood Decking: A Guide by RSR Engineering Singapore:

In Singapore’s warm, tropical climate, outdoor living spaces are an extension of our homes. A beautifully designed deck not only enhances the aesthetics of your outdoor area but also adds functionality and value to your property. At RSR Engineering, we specialize in crafting premium wood decking solutions tailored to your needs.

Why Choose Wood Decking?

Wood decking offers unparalleled beauty and durability, making it an ideal choice for residential and commercial spaces. Here are some reasons why it’s a popular option in Singapore:

1. Natural Aesthetic Appeal:

Wood decking provides a warm and timeless look, blending seamlessly with natural surroundings. It’s perfect for balconies, and poolside areas.

2. Durability in Tropical Climates:

High quality hardwoods, like teak or chengal, are highly resistant to moisture, pests, and UV rays, ensuring long-lasting performance in Singapore’s humid weather.

3. Versatile Design Options:

Whether you prefer a sleek modern style or a rustic charm, wood decking can be customized to complement your outdoor design vision.

4. Sustainability:

Many wood decking options come from sustainable sources, making it an eco-friendly choice for conscious homeowners.

Why RSR Engineering?

As a leading provider of home improvement services in Singapore, RSR Engineering prides itself on quality craftsmanship and customer satisfaction. Our experienced team ensures every project is executed with precision and care, delivering results that exceed expectations.

Our Wood Decking Services at RSR Engineering:

1. Custom Design and Installation:We collaborate closely with clients to design and install wood decking that meets their unique requirements. From small patios to expansive decks, no project is too big or small.

2. Deck Maintenance and Restoration:

Keep your decking looking fresh with our polishing and refinishing services. Our team ensures your wood remains smooth, safe, and visually appealing for years.

We use sustainable wood materials and non-toxic finishes to ensure minimal environmental impact.

Essential Tips for Wood Decking by RSR Engineering Singapore:

Wood decking can elevate your outdoor spaces with its natural beauty and durability. To ensure your deck remains stunning and functional for years to come, consider these expert tips from RSR Engineering.

1. Choose the Right Type of Wood

Not all woods are created equal. Select a durable hardwood suitable for Singapore’s tropical climate. Popular choices include:

Chengal: Highly durable and resistant to decay.

Teak: Premium, weather-resistant wood with natural oils that repel water and pests.

Merbau: Affordable and sturdy, with a rich, dark finish.

2. Prioritize Quality Installation

Proper installation ensures the longevity of your deck. Partner with experienced professionals like RSR Engineering for precise measurements, secure fastenings, and optimal spacing to prevent warping or water pooling.

3. Opt for a Protective Finish:

Apply a sealant or finish to protect your decking from moisture, UV rays, and pests. Choose finishes that enhance the wood's natural beauty, such as:

Oil-based finishes for a glossy look.

Water-based finishes for a matte appearance and low VOC levels.

4. Maintain Regularly:

Regular maintenance helps keep your deck in top condition:

Clean Weekly: Sweep debris and wash with a mild soap solution to prevent mold growth.

Inspect Annually: Check for signs of rot, cracks, or loose boards and address issues promptly.

Reapply Sealants: Refinish every 1-2 years to maintain protection and color vibrancy.

5. Ensure Proper Drainage:

Good drainage prevents water from pooling on or around your deck, which can cause wood to swell or decay. Install a slight slope or drainage system during construction.

6. Consider Design Features:

Add elements to enhance the functionality and aesthetics of your deck:

Built-in lighting for nighttime use.

Planters or seating integrated into the design.

Privacy screens or vertical decking for added charm and utility.

7. Use Sustainable Materials

Opt for wood from sustainable sources to reduce environmental impact. At RSR Engineering, we prioritize eco-friendly practices to align with green building initiatives.

8. Protect Against Termites

Singapore’s climate makes termite protection essential. Use treated wood and inspect your deck periodically for signs of infestation.

9. Blend with the Environment

Choose a wood color and texture that complements your home's style and outdoor surroundings. Neutral tones and natural finishes often work best for versatile appeal.

10. Partner with Experts:

Work with a trusted company like RSR Engineering. Our expertise ensures a seamless experience, from design to maintenance, giving you a deck that’s both beautiful and built to last.

Benefits of Wood Decking by RSR Engineering Singapore:

Natural Beauty and Elegance

Durability

Versatility in Design

Increased Property Value

Comfortable and Cool Surface

Eco-Friendly Option

Easy Maintenance

Excellent Insulation

Adaptability to Outdoor Living

Sustainable Investment.

RSR Engineering Singapore is here to help you maximize these benefits with expertly crafted wood decking solutions tailored to your needs. Contact us today  @ +65 94609172 or you can also email us on rsrengineering2024@gmail.com to transform your outdoor space into a stunning, functional retreat.

[smileydentalclinic]

What Are the Most Common Issues with Dental Crowns and How Are They Fixed?

Dental crowns are popular solutions for restoring damaged or decayed teeth, and they provide lasting protection and an enhanced appearance for your smile. However, like any dental treatment, crowns are not without their challenges. This blog will cover the most common issues people face with dental crowns, how these problems can be fixed, and tips for preventing future issues. Additionally, we'll touch on the cost of getting a tooth crown in Kolkata to help you plan your dental care.

1. Sensitivity or Discomfort After Crown Placement

One of the most frequent issues patients experience after receiving a crown is sensitivity or discomfort in the crowned tooth. This sensitivity can occur when the nerves inside the tooth react to the crown material, temperature, or pressure. It’s often temporary, lasting a few days to a few weeks, but it can be bothersome.

Fixing Sensitivity Issues:

Temporary Discomfort: If sensitivity is mild and lasts only a short time, it can often be managed with over-the-counter pain relievers and by avoiding very hot or cold foods.

Long-Lasting Sensitivity: If discomfort persists, your dentist may suggest a desensitizing toothpaste or perform an adjustment to ensure the crown fits correctly. In some cases, an underlying issue, such as infection or nerve irritation, may require additional treatment like a root canal to resolve the pain.

2. Crown Loosening or Falling Out

Over time, crowns may loosen or even fall off due to wear and tear, chewing pressure, or insufficient bonding cement. This is especially common with older crowns, as the adhesive that holds the crown in place may deteriorate.

Fixing Loose or Detached Crowns:

Re-Cementing: If the crown is still intact and undamaged, a dentist can re-cement it securely back into place.

Replacement: If the crown or the tooth underneath is damaged, a replacement may be necessary. It's essential to schedule an appointment as soon as possible, as a loose or missing crown leaves the tooth vulnerable to decay or infection.

3. Chips or Cracks in the Crown

Crowns are generally durable, but they can chip or crack, especially if made of porcelain or if subjected to trauma. Accidents, chewing hard foods, or grinding your teeth can lead to such damage.

Fixing Chipped or Cracked Crowns:

Small Chips: Minor chips may sometimes be repaired with a resin that bonds to the crown, although this is typically a temporary solution.

Replacing the Crown: For more significant damage, replacing the crown is usually the best option. A high-quality dental clinic in Kolkata can guide you on the materials available, which vary in durability and appearance. Opting for a stronger material like zirconia might be advisable if you have a history of grinding or clenching.

4. Dark Line Along the Gumline

If you have a porcelain-fused-to-metal (PFM) crown, you may notice a dark line appearing along the gumline over time. This line is the metal part of the crown becoming visible as gums recede, which can make the crown look less natural.

Fixing Gumline Discoloration:

Replacing the Crown: The most effective solution is to replace the PFM crown with an all-ceramic or zirconia crown, which looks more natural and won’t create a visible line.

Gum Recession Prevention: Maintaining good oral hygiene and getting regular dental check-ups can help prevent gum recession, which can help preserve the crown’s natural look.

5. Allergic Reactions to Crown Materials

Although rare, some people experience allergic reactions to the materials used in crowns, especially if metal components are present. Symptoms can include irritation, swelling, or a rash.

Fixing Allergic Reactions:

Replacing with Hypoallergenic Materials: If you have a metal allergy, your dentist can replace the crown with a material that’s hypoallergenic, like ceramic or zirconia. Discussing any known allergies before getting a crown can help prevent this issue altogether.

6. Decay or Infection Under the Crown

While crowns are designed to protect the tooth, decay can still occur at the edges where the crown meets the tooth. This issue is often due to poor oral hygiene or damage to the crown or surrounding teeth. Infections can also arise if bacteria reach the tooth's inner pulp.

Fixing Decay or Infection:

Removing and Replacing the Crown: If decay is detected early, the crown can be removed, the decay treated, and a new crown placed.

Root Canal Treatment: In cases where infection has reached the tooth’s pulp, a root canal might be necessary before placing a new crown.

How Much Does a Tooth Crown Cost in Kolkata?

The cost of a dental crown can vary based on the type of material used and the complexity of the procedure. Generally, tooth crown costs in Kolkata can range from INR 3,000 to INR 15,000 per crown. Porcelain crowns, while aesthetically pleasing, are typically more expensive than metal-based or ceramic crowns. However, their natural appearance and biocompatibility make them a popular choice among patients.

When evaluating the tooth crown cost in Kolkata, keep in mind that this is an investment in both the health and aesthetics of your smile. Finding a reputable clinic and experienced dentist can ensure you get a high-quality, long-lasting crown that suits your needs.

Preventing Common Crown Issues

While not all issues are preventable, taking good care of your crown can extend its lifespan. Here are some tips:

Practice Good Oral Hygiene: Brush and floss daily, paying extra attention to the gumline where the crown meets the tooth.

Avoid Hard Foods: Avoid chewing on ice, hard candies, and other tough substances to prevent cracks or chips.

Regular Dental Visits: Regular check-ups allow your dentist to spot and address any potential issues before they become more severe.

Dental crowns are a reliable and effective way to restore and protect damaged teeth, but they can sometimes present certain issues. Fortunately, most of these problems are manageable with the right approach and prompt attention. If you're experiencing discomfort, sensitivity, or other issues with your crown, consult your dentist as soon as possible for guidance. Remember, with proper care and maintenance, a dental crown can serve you well for many years, providing both function and beauty to your smile.

[thewarmestplacetohide]

Dread by the Decade: Dracula's Daughter

👻 You can support me on Ko-Fi! ❤️

★★★

Plot: After her father's death, Dracula's daughter seeks to undo her vampiric curse and rejoin society.

Review: Though there are issues with the story and pacing, an interesting early portrayal of a conflicted vampire and queer subtext make this worth a watch.

Source Material: "Carmilla" by Sheridan Le Fanu Sequel to: Dracula (1931) Year: 1936 Genre: Vampires, Gothic Country: United States Language: English Runtime: 1 hour 9 minutes

Director: Lambert Hillyer Writer: Garrett Fort Cinematographer: George Robinson Editor: Milton Carruth Composer: Heinz Roemheld Cast: Gloria Holden, Otto Kruger, Marguerite Churchill, Edward Van Sloan, Irving Pichel, Gilbert Emergy

------

Story: 2.5/5 - Messy. Its recapping is awkward and climax rushed. It also devotes too much time to inessential comedic relief. Still, Marya is a tragic character, and Jeffrey and Janet's relationship is fun.

Performances: 3.5/5 - Holden, echoing some of Lugosi's mannerisms, is the standout as a vampire combating loneliness. Also, Kruger and Churchill play off each other well.

Cinematography: 3.5/5 - Not as gothic and distinct as its predecessor, but still features some striking shots.

Editing: 3/5 - A few really good uses of dissolves.

Music: 2.5/5 - Generic.

Sets: 3/5 - Proficiently dressed and realistic if a bit generic.

Costumes, Hair, & Make-Up: 3/5

Trigger Warnings:

Mild violence