#but you can play as a more well adjusted version of the Thing

[orphicsun]

Failing to top Ellie. (fem! reader)

Warnings: sub/dom dynamic, slightly sub Ellie if you squint, sub reader who attempts to be top for once, teasing, strap-on use, rough sex, afab reader, smacks, nipple play. 18+ content.

Here Ellie was, underneath you, fuzzy handcuffs restraining her wrists to the sheets, and her usually submissive girlfriend on top of her, teasing her with pink, glossy lips. You trace over her collarbone, smearing the skin there with a clear pink substance, making her groan.

She has had you in this situation countless times before, tied down and tortured. Spent hours between your legs, lapping at your glistening pussy lips but not your clit. She thinks this isn't about 'spicing things up in the bedroom'. No, this is payback, or maybe even worse than payback.

"C'mon, just ride me already.. quit being a fuckin' tease-" that backfires quickly, because you instead pull away. All Ellie can do is whine and stare up at the ceiling, knowing she deserves this.

When your stick lips trail down to her tits, your body follows down with it, and something, she doesn't know what, nudges the silicone cock held at her waist by the harness she so loves to use to fuck you with, and she groans. The tiny nudge of the base against her clit, that is truly the only thing she has gotten in the past 30 minutes. She's such a crybaby, you're thinking to yourself. Has you endure this for hours, yet she can't handle a little, sweet teasing?

Your lips wrap around the soft bud of one of her nipples, giving it a soft suckle. If she could, she would tangle her ring-adorned fingers into your hair, tug you off of her and punish you for being such a bitch. Not that she isn't obsessed with the feeling, because she does love the way your tongue swirls around her nipple. No, it's just the fact that she knows that as soon as she visually embraces it, lets out a soft moan of appreciation and asks for more, you will only pull away with a sweet, innocent smile.

When you inevitably do, Ellie takes in the view. Her head is reeling, she feels almost feverish. Have your tits always looked that good? Your face, lips tugged upward as you play coy, brows relaxed, and your eyes twinkling with just a mix of animosity (probably from last night when she fucked you only to rip your orgasm away for her own entertainment) but some relieving love in the mix, as well. She can't see your pussy at this angle, but she's seen it enough to just picture it, clit swollen and your sweet hole just weeping for her. She wants you on her cock so fucking badly right now.

It feels like hours of torture she endures, rightfully so. Warm tongue over her pulse, soft lips at her navel. The more she takes, the more she begs. So sweetly, and the evil girl who just wants to fuck you is stripped down into a needy, sweet girl; just as you wanted her to be initially.

"Please. I'll do anything, I'll never fuck with you again-" her words so frantic, but does she mean them? You swirl your tongue over her bellybutton and she arches up into it, hoping for mercy, and nearly sobs when you pull your mouth away before she can fully get to feel anything. This is pathetic, Ellie.

Her idealized version of teasing is much different than yours. While she is too impatient to do something like this, you're not. She didn't catch the memo when she had you previously begging for cock like you'd die if you weren't piped in 10 seconds. Now, you won't even touch her pussy. You won't even fuck yourself on the strap you have adjusted to her hips. She is actually, worriedly, starting to wonder if this is all some sick game. Her initial comfort was that at least you have the cock there, so that means she's guaranteed to get to watch you ride her until she cums from the friction, right? She doesn't even know anymore. Fuck, she didn't realize sex could ever be like psychological horror, but her mind was starting to spin. What if you just never fucked her? What if she sat here, begging for hours and hours never to hear that sweet relief, the pop of you sliding down on her cock-

She snaps out of her thoughts when you wrap your lips around the tip, suckling it so politely. Oh fuckkkk... You're like an angel, she thinks. Like a fuckin' angel, even though she can't even feel you licking up the veins of the shaft. It's not hers, but it might as well be. She feels high at the point, even though the last blunt she had was last week. It couldn't still be in her system, right? She isn't sure of anything at this point.

She should be mad at you, she should fuck you senseless as soon as she gets out of the handcuffs for all of this. But she just can't feel anything but pure need, and after probably hours of just kisses on her skin, gloss stains covering her pale, freckled skin, she is so gracious. Tamed, you could say.

She has to lean up to see the view of her cock disappearing in your mouth, craning her neck up almost painfully, but it is so worth it. You're like her own personal goddess, you have to be godsent, and pussy is aching, clenching around nothing. She can't feel it, but she swears that she does. Just as she thinks she can't take anymore, chanting a chorus of begging and pleases, she thinks you'll undo the handcuffs and walk out of the room. But no. You sink down onto her cock, and her eyes practically roll back into her head.

Your hips don't bounce, don't shatter down against hers, but instead grind so slowly. It feels good on her own neglected clit, and she can just imagine how heavenly it feels for you to have the tip rubbing into your g-spot. That is nearly as relieving as her own pleasure is, because you getting to cum may just be her favorite thing. You don't seem to make a plan to cum anytime soon, though. It's torture, sweet torture, but to a girl teased for what feels like decades, she will take anything she can get. She decides to just screw it, suck up to you and get on your good side.

Ellie loves her sweet girl more than anything. She knows this is fair, but you're still gonna be (mainly) her pillow princess after this. You just need some sweetness. You're too much of a ball of sunshine to really go through with denying her, right? Too smiley, too tender with her. You melt at her touch, and she hypothesizes in that head of hers that if you didn't tie her down, you wouldn't have gone through with this. You would've melted at the first graze of her fingers over your clit. But she still has her voice. Still has her sweet words which she knows can you can nearly cum off of. (Backed by evidence of a series of calls in which you had your pussy stuffed with your own fingers, getting off to her lewd remarks over the line).

"That feel good, baby? You like riding my dick?" She asks, and she knows that she sounds different than usual. Definitely more needy, as if she had just run a cross-country race as well.

And there it is, that sweet whine of approval. She might just cum on the spot. You nod and lean up with those sweet, plush lips. You kiss her sloppily and this is it for her. You just made a huge mistake.

Ellie shoves her tongue into your mouth, pushing against yours. The kiss should be a warning sign for you, but when your hips begin to lift to slam back down against your cervix, you lose yourself. Forget why Ellie's tied up in the first place.

Ellie is a smart girl. You've always adored that about her. She can solve calculus problems that usually leave you deciding to procrastinate on your assignments (that never get done). She is extremely intelligent. You underestimated her, and probably should've wrapped some rope around her ankles, because now she slams her hips up into yours, right up into your pussy.

You melt. She doesn't stop fucking up into you, even though it's tiring. You forget that she's strong, too.

"C'mon, baby. You really don't want this, do you?" She coos in your ear, making you even more dizzy. "You wanna get fucked properly."

"Ellie, please.."

"Yeah? I'll fuck this pussy so good, just uncuff me."

You don't hesitate, not when she sloppily kisses your lips, not when she pounds into you even tied down. Fuck, you want her so bad. So you quickly grab the key, and as soon as you made the mistake of letting her go, she's flipping you underneath her, your ankles hitched up onto her shoulders, and she is going to murder your pussy.

Deep, hard thrusts. Those are usually reserved for when you act bratty or when you beg her to be extra rough with you on certain nights. It's clear that she's not messing around with you, and you say your prayers in your head. Or you would, if you could think of anything right now.

Instead, you're left a mess. A whining, sobbing mess underneath her. That, accompanied by sounds of skin slapping and your sopping wet pussy being drilled into, are only things Ellie imagined to be real. You've got her impatient, otherwise she'd rip that orgasm right from underneath you and slam the door behind her.

"You think that was cute?" She scolds, voice husky and breathless, her words strewn all over because of the thrusts she is currently dealing to you. You don't answer? That's fine.

Ellie delivers a harsh smack to your bouncing tits. If that isn't enough, she could always just pull out, but she hopes it is because she doesn't know if she could leave your pussy right now.

"I'm sorry, Ellie!! I'm so sorry, I'll be a good girl-" you sob, and she scoffs.

"You should've been a good girl before tricking me into that."

"Please. Please, need you to make me cum. I'll be your good girl forever."

Ellie can't resist you. With one deep hit to the ribbed walls of your cunt, she's got you creaming all over her cock. You can feel it all over your body, and you shouldn't be feeling an orgasm in your fingertips or toes, but you do. It's everywhere. It feels like you're ascending to the pearly gates. Her face is angelic, carved not in focus in fucking you, but probably from cumming herself.

When it all ends, you let out a breath of relief. Then, Ellie is flipping you onto your stomach and giving a petty smack to your ass. You gasp, trying to pull her off of you, but.

"Nuh-uh, baby. I'm not done with this pussy, yet."

[damienns]

My GIF Making process: Screen capturing using MPV player, Organizing files, 3 Sharpening settings, Basic Coloring PSD + Actions set

This is a very long post so heads up.

I’ll try to be as thorough and true as much as possible to the way I make my gifs (I already use Photoshop Actions which I’ve long since set up but now for this tutorial I’m reviewing them to show you the exact steps I’ve learned to create my gifs 😃) and present them to you in a semi-coherent way. Also, please bear with me since English is my second language.

First things first. Below are the things and tools we need to do this:

Downloaded 4K or 1080p quality videos (let’s all assume we know where to get these—especially for high definition movies and tv series—so this post doesn’t get removed, okay? 😛)

Adobe Photoshop CC or the CS versions can work as well, but full disclosure I haven’t created gifs using the CS versions since 2020. I’m currently using Adobe Photoshop 2024.

mpv player. Use mpv player to get those frames/screenshots or any other video player that has a screen grabber feature. I’ve used adapter for the longest time but I’ve switched to mpv because the press to screenshot feature while the video is playing has been a game changer not to mention ultimate time saver for me. For adapter you need to play it in another video player (like VLC player), to get the start and end timestamps of the scene you want to gif which takes me ages before I can even open Photoshop.

Anyway! Please stop reading this post for a moment and head over to this amazing tutorial by kylos. She perfectly tells you how to install and use mpv player, both for Mac and Windows users.

One thing I have to share though, I had a tough time when I updated my MacOS to Sonoma since MPV is suddenly either duplicating frames or when I delete the duplicates the player seems to be skipping frames :/ I searched and found a solution here, though it didn’t work for me lol. My workaround for this in the meantime is decreasing the speed down to 0.70 then start screenshotting—it’s not the same pre Sonoma update but it works so I’ll have to accept it rather than have jumpy looking gifs.

Now, after this part of kylos’ tutorial:

you can continue reading the following sections of my gif tutorial below.

I want to share this little tip (sorry, this will only cater to Mac users) that I hope will be helpful for organizing the screenshots that MPV saved to the folder you have selected. Because believe me you don’t want to go through 1k+ of screenshots to select just 42-50 frames for your gif.

The Control + Command + N shortcut

This shortcut allows you to create a new folder from files you have pre-selected. As you can see below I have already created a couple of folders, and inside each folder I have selected screenshots that I want to include in one single gif. It's up to you how you want to divide yours, assuming you intend to create and post a Tumblr gifset rather than just one gif.

Another tip is making use of tags. Most of, if not all the time, I make supercorp gifs so I tag blue for Kara and red (or green) for Lena—just being ridiculously on brand and all that.

Before we finally open Photoshop, there's one more thing I want to say—I know, please bear with me for the third? fourth? time 😅

It's helpful to organize everything into their respective folders so you know the total number of items/frames you have. This way, you can add or delete excess or unnecessary shots before uploading them in Photoshop.

For example below there are 80 screenshots of Kara inside this folder and for a 1:1 (540 x 540 px) Tumblr gif, Photoshop can just work around with 42-50 max number of frames with color adjustments applied before it exceeds the 10 MB file size limit of Tumblr.

Sometimes I skip this step because it can be exhausting (haha) and include everything so I can decide visually which frames to keep later on. You'll understand what I mean later on. But it's important to keep the Tumblr 10 MB file size limit in mind. Fewer frames, or just the right amount of frames, is better.

So, with the screenshot organization out of the way, let's finally head over to Photoshop.

Giffing in Photoshop, yay!

Let’s begin by navigating to File > Scripts > Load Files into Stack…

The Load Layers window will appear. Click the Browse button next.

Find your chosen screenshots folder, press Command + A to select all files from that folder then click Open. Then click OK.

After importing and stacking your files, Photoshop should display the following view:

By the way, I'll be providing the clip I've used in this tutorial so if want to use them to follow along be my guest :)

If you haven't already opened your Timeline panel, navigate to Windows > Timeline.

Now, let's focus on the Timeline panel for the next couple of steps.

Click Create Video Timeline, then you’ll have this:

Now click the menu icon on the top right corner then go to Convert Frames > Make Frames from Clips

Still working on the Timeline panel, click the bottom left icon this time—the icon with the three tiny boxes—to Convert to Frame Animation

Select Make Frames From Layers from the top right corner menu button.

So now you have this:

Go and click the top right menu icon again to Select All Frames

Then click the small dropdown icon to set another value for Frame Delay. Select Other…

The best for me and for most is 0.05 but you can always play around and see what you think works for you.

Click the top right menu icon again to Reverse Frames.

I think Photoshop has long since fixed this issue but usually the first animation frame is empty so I just delete it but now going through all these steps there seems to be none of that but anyways, the delete icon is the last one among the line of feature buttons at the bottom part of the Timeline panel.

Yay, now we can have our first proper GIF preview of a thirsty Lena 😜

Press spacebar to watch your gif play for the very first time! After an hour and half of selecting and cutting off screenshots! 😛 Play it some more. No really, I’m serious. I do this so even as early (lol) as this part in the gif making process, I can see which frames I can/should delete to be within the 10 MB file size limit. You can also do it at the end of course 🙂

Now, let’s go to the next important steps of this tutorial post which I’ve numbered below.

Crop and resize to meet Tumblr's required dimensions. The width value should be either 540px, 268px, or 177px.

Convert the gif to a Smart Object for sharpening.

Apply lighting and basic color adjustments before the heavy coloring. I will be sharing the base adjustments layers I use for my gifs 😃.

1. Crop and Resize

Click on the Crop tool (shortcut: the C key)

I like my GIFs big so I always set this to 1:1 ratio if the scene allows it. Press the Enter key after selecting the area of the frame that you want to keep.

Side note: If you find that after cropping, you want to adjust the image to the left or another direction, simply unselect the Delete Cropped Pixels option. This way, you will still have the whole frame area available to crop again as needed and as you prefer.

Now we need to resize our gif and the shortcut for that is Command + Opt + I. Type in 540 as the width measurement, then the height will automatically change to follow the ratio you’ve set while cropping.

540 x 540 px for 1:1

540 x 405 px for 4:3

540 x 304 px for 16:9

For the Resample value I prefer Bilinear—but you can always select the other options to see what you like best.

Click OK. Then Command + 0 and Command + - to properly view the those 540 pixels.

Now we get to the exciting part :) the sharpen settings!

2. Sharpen

First we need to have all these layers “compressed” intro a single smart object from which we can apply filters to.

Select this little button on the the bottom left corner of the Timeline panel.

Select > All Layers

Then go to Filter > Convert for Smart Filters

Just click OK when a pop-up shows up.

Now you should have this view on the Layers panel:

Now I have 3 sharpen settings to share but I’ll have download links to the Action packs at the end of this long ass tutorial so if you want to skip ahead, feel free to do so.

Sharpen v1

Go to Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen…

Below are my settings. I don’t adjust anything under Shadows/Highlights.

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.4

Click OK then do another Smart Sharpen but this time with the below adjustments.

Amount: 12

Radius: 10.0

As you can see Lena’s beautiful eyes are “popping out” now with these filters applied. Click OK.

Now we need to Convert to Frame Animation. Follow the steps below.

Click on the menu icon at the top right corner of the Timeline panel, then click Convert Frames > Flatten Frames into Clips

Then Convert Frames > Convert to Frame Animation

One more click to Make Frames From Layers

Delete the first frame then Select All then Set Frame Delay to 0.05

and there you have it! Play your GIF and make sure it’s just around 42-50 frames. This is the time to select and delete.

To preview and save your GIF go to File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy)…

Below are my Export settings. Make sure to have the file size around 9.2 MB to 9.4 MB max and not exactly 10 MB.

This time I got away with 55 frames but this is because I haven’t applied lighting and color adjustments yet and not to mention the smart sharpen settings aren't to heavy so let’s take that into consideration.

Sharpen v1 preview:

Sharpen v2

Go back to this part of the tutorial and apply the v2 settings.

Smart Sharpen 1:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.3

Smart Sharpen 2:

Amount: 20

Radius: 0.5

We’re adding a new type of Filter which is Reduce Noise (Filter > Noise > Reduce Noise...) with the below settings.

Then one last Smart Sharpen:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.3

Your Layers panel should look like this:

Then do the Convert to Frames Animation section again and see below preview.

Sharpen v2 preview:

Sharpen v3:

Smart Sharpen 1:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.4

Smart Sharpen 2:

Amount: 12

Radius: 10.0

Reduce Noise:

Strength: 5

Preserve Details: 50%

Reduce Color Noise: 0%

Sharpen Details: 50%

Sharpen v3 preview:

And here they are next to each other with coloring applied:

v1

v2

v3

Congratulations, you've made it to the end of the post 😂

As promised, here is the download link to all the files I used in this tutorial which include:

supercorp 2.05 Crossfire clip

3 PSD files with sharpen settings and basic coloring PSD

Actions set

As always, if you're feeling generous here's my Ko-fi link :) Thank you guys and I hope this tutorial will help you and make you love gif making.

P.S. In the next post I'll be sharing more references I found helpful especially with coloring. I just have to search and gather them all.

-Jill

[siilent-wanderer]

The Lines We Cross

Pairing: actress!aespa x actress!reader

aespa as classic k-drama tropes

masterlist | ive version

Jimin

Defending her from her ex

you and Jimin are best friends in the drama

but her character’s ex keeps trying to win her back (it’s annoying)

the script only called for you to step in and pull her away

but the moment the ex gets pushy, you blurt out the first thing in your mind

“She’s with me now.”

"Seriously? You're choosing her over me? Come on, babe."

"Don't call her that. You lost that privilege a long time ago."

Jimin freezes

this wasn’t in the script

her eyes widen as she glances at you, lips slightly parted in shock

the director doesn’t yell cut, so obviously you keep going

you slip your arm around her waist, pulling her closer

“She doesn’t need to deal with someone who didn’t appreciate her when they had the chance"

Jimin’s cheeks are turning pink

the cameras aren’t even focused on her anymore

BUT she’s still looking at you like you just flipped her entire world upside down

after the director yells "cut", she’s still staring

“You— uh, that was… unexpected.”

“Didn’t like it?”

she huffs, crossing her arms but failing to hide her flustered smile

“I didn’t say that. You actually looked so hot back there. Almost made me believe you were actually jealous.”

you roll your eyes, “Maybe I was. Who knows?”

"Hmm, I wouldn't mind if you were."

Aeri

Falling asleep on her shoulder

you just finished filming at a set away from the city, so it was a long ride back to the hotel

you’re exhausted, eyelids drooping despite your best efforts

Aeri is scrolling through her phone when she suddenly feels a weight on her shoulder

she glances down and finds you fast asleep against her

she stifles a chuckle, adjusting her posture slightly so you’re more comfortable

the van hits a small bump, and you instinctively nuzzle closer

EVEN murmuring her name in your sleep ???

Aeri freezes

her heart does this stupid little flip and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling too much

the other cast members notice and start teasing her, making little kissy noises

“Shut up”

but she doesn’t move away

she rests her head lightly against yours, letting herself enjoy the moment

when the van finally stops, you slowly wake up, finding yourself nestled against Aeri

“I'm sorry, did I-”

“Yeah. For a while. Drooled on my shoulder, too,” Aeri smirks

your eyes widen, “I did not—”

she laughs at your horrified expression, then leans in slightly

“Kidding. But since you used me as your personal pillow, I think you owe me something.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

Aeri grins, her voice dropping to a teasing murmur

“Dinner. You know, as compensation.”

you scoff, but there’s a small smile playing on your lips

“Fine. My treat.”

“Actually… I think I deserve dessert, too.”

“Push your luck, and you’ll be paying."

“Worth it.”

Minjeong

Confession in the rain

your characters have been dancing around their feelings for so long

and for some stupid reason, you decide to confront them in the middle of a damn storm

rain is pouring, soaking both of you

Minjeong is glaring at you, breathless from arguing

she never screamed at you before. well, not until now

“Why do you care so much?” she yells over the downpour, eyes searching yours

you step forward, grabbing her wrist before she can turn away

“Because it’s you!” you confess, voice raw and filled with emotion. “It’s always been you!”

Minjeong’s expression softens for half a second

AND THEN she grabs your collar and pulls you in for a desperate kiss

the rain blurs everything, but all you can focus on is her — her warmth, her hands gripping you like she’s afraid to let go

"CUT!"

you expect her to pull away immediately, but she doesn’t

she lingers, her forehead resting against yours

“That was… really good acting,” she mutters, though her breathless voice betrays her

“Yeah? Want to practice some more?”

she shoves you playfully, but you catch the small, shy smile she’s trying to hide

"But you know kissing me wasn't in the script, right?"

her eyes widen, "Huh? What do you mean?"

you just smirk and walk away, leaving her confused and flustered

Yizhuo

Carrying her home drunk

Yizhuo's character gets drunk after a breakup

and unfortunately for you, as her closest friend, have no choice but to carry her home

“You’re heavy,” you groan, adjusting her on your back

Yizhuo giggles, arms lazily draped over your shoulders

“I’m not heavy. You’re just weak.”

“I should just leave you here,” you tease, pretending to drop her

she tightens her hold around your neck immediately

“Yah! You wouldn’t dare!”

you laugh, feeling the warmth of her cheek against your shoulder

in the script, it said you have to gently set her down once you reach her apartment

but Yizhuo, still in playful character mode, doesn’t let go

“You’re always so nice to me… Why can’t everyone be like you?”**

your stupid heart stutters

“Because they’d all be too annoying to handle.”

she's looking at you like she doesn't even care that you just teased her

she's smiling like she's about to laugh BUT HER EYES

they're looking at you lovingly

which flusters you, so you stop talking

"CUT!"

she doesn’t move right away. she's STILL clinging to you, smirking

“I like being carried. Might have to get drunk more often.”

you roll your eyes, “Or you could just ask next time.”

she hums in amusement. “Where’s the fun in that?”

A/N: hello, I'm back from the dead

[strawberrykidneystone]

heavy are the hips or whatever

sevika x female reader

summary: beer is gross, but not when you have such a pretty bottle opener.

a/n: me just being horny please ignore. yes i know that bars are required to take the tops off before they give them to you but this is my world shhhh

tags: alcohol consumption, smoking, teasing

ao3 version

you hated beer.

despised it really.

but lately you’ve had a taste for it, solely for the person who opens the bottles for you.

which is how you got here, ordering another beer from the bartender who was already used to your antics, sliding you a beer with the cap still on. you never asked for a specific brand, frankly, you didn't care. he had given you a different brand every time you came up to the bar, yet you still hadn't found one that you enjoyed. some were fruitier than others which made them slightly more bearable, but overall, no dice. oh well, that wasn't what you were after anyway.

giving the bartender a nod and a cheesy grin, you happily grabbed the green-hued bottle off of the splinter covered counter and practically skipped back to the dark corner of the bar where the love of your life was playing a game of poker, unsurprisingly. you slowed back down as you got close to the table and stood at her side, rocking back and forth on your feet to wait as she made her call.

she tossed a few chips to the middle seemingly carelessly to the untrained eye and muttered "call", the rest of the patrons showing drastically different reactions. you could smell the other players apprehension a mile away, they were more than likely going to lose and they knew it. you've watched enough of her games to know when her opponents were licked, you also knew sevika well enough to know that she hadn't even looked at her cards yet. she simply oozed confidence, which was one of the things that initially drew you to her, it was enough to make you as shy as a schoolgirl.

a cigar hung out of the side of her mouth, lazily burning away as the game went on. she took a few quick puffs before taking a long inhale, blowing a perfect circle into the air as she exhaled straight up towards the ceiling, showing off her meaty throat that was decorated with bite marks and hickeys from your previous extracurricular activities.

sitting back and adjusting her hips, lifting them up slowly before settling back against the chair with emphasis since she knew you were watching. she looked up at you with a smirk and a knowing look in her eyes, she already knew what you were going to ask but she loved making you ask for it every single goddamn time. ever since she got that damn bottle opener buckle, it's been driving you crazy how sexy she looked practically man handling the beers that were handed to her. the foam sometimes spilled onto the front of her pants and you had to hold yourself back from kneeling in front of her and licking the fabric covering her crotch in front of everyone at the bar.

"whaddya need doll?" she questioned with a teasing tone, as if she hadn't already opened 2 previous bottles for you just that night.

you shyly held out the beer bottle with a small smile, avoiding her intense grey eyes.

she chuckled and shook her head, "use your words baby."

you held back a groan and dropped your arm back down to your side in defeat, you should've known that you wouldn't get what you wanted so easily, especially not with sevika. you sucked in a deep breath and said quietly, "...can you please open this for me?"

"what was that? i didn't hear you," she said with a shit-eating grin, drawing the attention of some of the players at the table.

you narrowed your eyes in annoyance and bit the inside of your cheek, gathering up all your confidence and holding out the bottle once again, "can you please open this for me?"

"of course baby," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, her voice dripping with conviction. she took her cigar out of her mouth and snubbed it into the ashtray on the table as if opening the bottle would be a 2 hand job. the patrons who glanced over before quickly looked away, knowing they would probably get their heads chopped off if they dared to watch.

you pressed your thighs together in anticipation, your eyes immediately glued to her groin as soon as she took the bottle from you. she leisurely lined up the cap of the bottle under the hook of the buckle, keeping her eyes trained on your face for your reaction. this was as pleasurable for her as it was for you. adjusting her hips upward, she snapped the cap off the bottle and brought the bottle up to her lips, taking a sip of the foam. the cap fell onto the chair in between her legs with a clatter that you quickly reached down and picked up, the back of your hand dragging against her clothed sex with light pressure. her hips buckled up to try and follow your hand and she bit the top of the glass bottle to suppress a moan. you met her eyes with an amused smile that quickly dropped into longing as sevika circled the bottle with her tongue, flattening her tongue over the top before holding the bottle up to you. you mindlessly took the bottle from her, your eyes still focused on her mouth.

she patted the inside of her thigh expectantly and before she could even blink, you were perched onto the inside of her thigh. she chuckled at your eagerness and pressed a firm kiss into your cheek. she wrapped her arm around your waist and rested her hand on your hip. you took a sip from your beer and stopped yourself from making a face, tasting the cigar from her saliva on the glass. she leaned in and whispered huskily into your ear, "don't worry baby, I'll give you something better to put your mouth onto when we get home."

you couldn't help but choke on the course liquid that was on its way down your throat, your back straightening up as you blushed at the thought of tasting her. looking at her and nodding happily, you took a big gulp from your beer and squirmed on her thigh. she chuckled as she squeezed your hip to keep you still and gave your ass a quick slap, tuning back into the game.

it was going to be a long night.

a/n: bottle opener more like leg opener amiright, also sorry if you do like beer

[gakukitty]

how would some of the sakadays guys be like with a clingy partner? their love language is physical touch or quality time and without it they literally wilt like a plant. im not sure who to request for? shin, heisuke, nagumo, gaku, kei, whoever! its up to you

clingy cling cling — ✦ — masterlist

featuring . . . shin asakura , heisuke mashimo , nagumo yoichi , gaku , kei uzuki , shishiba , natsuki seba ( multi , seperate ) x clingy! reader

note ; i was considering adding tenkyu here bc i wanna start writing for him but im too sleepy ,,, next time teust :33 !!! sorry if this is baaaddd :’( especially gaku and kei’s ine , i feel like those were bad but ts ok !!!! i hope you guys liiiiokkeeee iiittttttt <33

note ; also , sorry for making these so short !! i sort of lost the plot and didn’t know how to continue it , at fiest i wanted to make them sort of hcs but then i was like “idkkkkk” so i didn’t … anywaus , i might make a better version once i’m done with all my other works !!!

gaku ✦

“what’re you doing—?” your boyfriend half-grumbles, lifting a muscular arm for you to crawl under. it’s not uncommon for you to slither your way into his grasp— especially when he’s the busiest. don’t you know that he’s busy playing games?

you do know. but you just don’t really care. and honestly, gaku wouldn’t have it any other way. so, he’s happy to adjust his hold on you and let you shift closer, resting his cheek against the top of your head. this just adds another level of challenge to his game; he’ll see how long he can last focusing on his game before he tosses it aside in favour of reciprocating your hug.

it doesn’t take long for that to happen— because deep down, your dear boyfriend gaku is just as clingy as you. the man’s more than willing to let you trail behind him to wherever— okay, maybe not to some places, but he’s sure to send a message and leave a warm sweater for you on the rare occasion he’s not in your presence.

kei uzuki ✦

the man just glances over to you, gaze focused on the expression on your face— it’s one that he knows very well. so, uzuki just holds out a slender hand of his and gives you a soft smile.

you’re quick to take the opportunity, your hand reaching out for his. your fingers intertwine, and kei’s smile just widens slightly when you squeeze his hand. he’s used to this, your love of touching him and being near him. and i’m all honesty, uzuki really likes it.

moments like these, where the two of you looking through a bookstore for another book he can read.. while you sit beside him, your head on his shoulder as the two of you sit in comfortable silence.

nagumo yoichi ✦

he freaking loves you and is more than happy to have you around him at all times !! nagumo can be a bit irritating though, with all his teasing :’(

“aww, what’s that? you want me to stay looonger?” nagumo drawls, glancing back at you. the man was just getting ready to hop out of bed for work— but that cute little voice you just did reeaalllyy does something to him. so, with a soft, mocking sigh, your boyfriend lays back down. his limbs tangle with yours, his smile wide as he shifts closer. this is the life, he thinks.

heisuke mashimo ✦

at first, dear heisuke was just a little sigh. “you— you wanna spend time with me?” he’d blink, gaze darting around in search for cameras— because there’s no way you’d want to willingly hang around him !!

but, there is a way— and heisuke is overwhelmed with pure joy when your hand finds his. he’s grown to cherish your shared moments, his eyes sparkling with adoration whenever he wakes up with you clinging onto him, and his heart beating just a little faster when you ask him to stay with you longer before leaving.

oh, but his absolute favourite thing in the whole entire world is when you message him. the poor man has to lift a hand to clutch at his chest in attempt to stop his heart from beating so fast. you miss him? you MISS HIM???!!!!

shin asakura ✦

shin could tell from the start that you were the type who valued closeness and quality time. not only because of his abilities, but because of the way your hand would reach out for his slightly every now and then. or maybe it’s the way your eyebrows would furrow whenever he said he had to go somewhere— or, it could be when you’d linger for a little longer around him.

whichever one it is, shin noticed. so without you even asking about it or mentioning it, he grabs your hand gently. the man just flashes you a smile, lacing your fingers together and shifting slightly closer. even with the rather.. direct approach that he’s taking, it’s hard to hide the way his cheeks flush at that smile on your face.

he’ll spend all the time in the world with you if it means you smile like that again.

shishiba ✦

like shin, shishiba also noticed pretty early on. he was much more gentle about the way he went about it; he started with inviting you out to dinner one night. he had already known for a while that you appreciated quality time— so he was more than happy to spend time with you.

every now and then, during your dates, he likes to hold your hand. or, if you’re eating out; his foot sort of drifts towards yours. even the smallest of touches mean something, to both you and him.

he also makes sure to always wake up just a little earlier so the two of you can spend more time together in bed before he has work— the feeling of you beside him is one of the best things this world can offer, in shishibas opinion.

natsuki seba ✦

natsuki is similar to you— he also loves spending time together. so, one of his favourite things is when you come to visit him when he’s busy working. natsuki’s never too busy to be with you— your boyfriend loooovvvessss having you just sit beside or near him, sometimes listen to you talk or just sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

however, he has to admit that he quite likes spending nights with you. his arms find their way to your waist, his head immediately shifting to rest against your shoulder. the man can be quite clingy when he feels like it; but he knows that you’re the same. and he fucking loves it— he loves you.

© gakukitty please don’t copy my work , repost it and claim as your own , translate , or use it to train ai ♡

[inmyheaddd]

wake up call - rafe cameron x reader

summary: pranking soft/tired!rafe after a party, by spewing absolute nonsense warnings: maybee slightly ooc rafe?? nothing really wc: 481 a/n: not too sure why i wrote this, i never write for obx 🤔🤔 i think its the drew starkey edits getting to me

“rafe,” you patted his shoulder, “raaaafe,” he didn’t respond to you, only groaning as he turned in his sleep.

it was nearing 3 am now, and you had just gotten back from some party. you had been so exhausted just 30 minutes ago in the car as rafe drove you home, but now sleep seemed to be the last thing on your mind. rafe on the other hand, fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow. 

after scrolling on your phone for a little while and seeing a video of a girl pranking her boyfriend, you decided it would be a good idea to do the same to the brunette who was dead asleep next to you.

“it’s super important,” you tapped his shoulder, “rafe. quick, wake up.” you lightly shook his arm as he mumbled incoherently, then turned away from you. 

“rafe, it’s an emergency. the beach broke, i need you to fix it for me.” you added, your voice so full of worry that it made rafe stir around again, this time to face you, with his eyes still closed. “…what?” he muttered as he scrunched his face up in confusion.

“you have to fix it, rafe.” you bit your bottom lip, almost shaking with the laughter you were holding in.

“alright, alright. i’ll do it tomorrow, yeah?” he grumbled as he patted his arm around mindlessly, trying to find you.

“you better, it’s really important.” you thanked god that he couldn’t see the wide smile on your face, contrasting to the dead serious, worried hint your voice took on.

“also, can you buy mars for me?” you almost broke out laughing right then and there at the blabber you were coming up with. “i’ve had my eye on it for a while, y’know? i think it would match that red top i have really well.” 

“sure, whatever you want.” he mumbled languidly as he tried to pulled you closer to him, before his face scrunched up in confusion. 

“baby,” he said, “what the fuck are you talkin’ about?” he blinked his eyes open at you, his eyebrows knitted together. “are you high?”

“nooo, oh my god.” your giggles broke out as you threw your head back, “it was a prank! i’m sorry.” you didn’t sound sorry in the slightest, still laughing uncontrollably at your boyfriends confused, and likely annoyed expression.

he tutted, briefly shaking his head and turning it to the side. you weren’t too sure if you were imagining the tiniest of smiles on his lips or not. “don’t play that stupid shit on me, go back to sleep.” 

your laughter began to fade as he adjusted his position and turned you around, pulling your back flush against his front and wrapping his arms around you. 

“you’re no fun.” you muttered, nonetheless with a smile on your face.

“yeah, i know, baby.” you felt the ghost his lips on your neck, “talking about buying mars and fixing the beach. get some sleep.” 

now, you could practically feel the way his lips turned up on your skin. that was a huge win in your book. 

debating your choices, you wanted to see if you could push his buttons just once more.

“…rafe?”

a sleepy hum.

“if you could though, would you get me mars?”

silence. 

you figured he was asleep, so you took the loss and closed your eyes, but then he finally spoke:

“how much did you fucking drink?”

another a/n: this is a rafe version of the “half asleep” grayson hawthorne fic that i wrote!! (sorry guys im incapable of coming up w something new rn…)

[allpiesforourown]

was gonna post this on ao3 but it's only 1.3k words and pure sillyness so here it is instead: bingqiu, post canon, time travel, misunderstandings.

shen qingqiu time travels, but no one tells him

Upon waking up to see his husband, the first words out of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth were, “Ugh, again?” 

Because the one at his bedside was not the tall handsome demon lord he saw every morning. A cute little bun in white robes blinked back at him. “Shizun?” 

Seriously? How many times was this going to happen!? At least this time he didn't look young enough to be mistaken for his child, but still… if Shen Qingqiu had a soul stone for every time Luo Binghe qi deviated into a younger version of himself, he’d have two soul stones by now…

Instead of waking his husband to tell him about his condition, the man (boy?) had run off to prepare breakfast. Going by the steaming congee on the table, he only woke Shen Qingqiu up to get him to eat.

Shen Qingqiu sighed as he sat up and ran a hand over his face. “Do you know how old you are right now?” 

“This disciple is sixteen, shizun. Is something wrong?” 

Shen Qingqiu gave Luo Binghe a glare. Something wrong? The audacity! He grabbed the fan off his nightstand and smacked the boy’s head softly. “Hasn’t this master told Binghe to tell me right away when something is wrong?” Binghe opened his mouth with a stricken expression, but Shen qingqiu cut him off. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You're still too young to dual cultivate. We’ll have to wait things out.” 

Papapa would have solved this matter instantly if it was viable. But when Binghe first brought up the idea of role-playing as their younger selves, Shen Qingqiu made it clear he would not partake in anything with the man if he made his appearance younger than 18! Even that was too low, but he had to draw the line somewhere! 

Luo Binghe’s face flushed red. “D-d-dual cu-cultivate!?” 

Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. “What did I just say? Don't get any ideas, you'll have to wait before we can do anything.” 

“We?” Binghe’s voice went high. “Shizun… dual cultivate… with me!?” 

“Not until you’re older,” he repeated firmly. 

At this age, Binghe really did look too innocent… even with such a perverted interior, he really looked like this simple talk was flustering him. “How-how much older?” 

Well, while recovering from de-aging qi deviations, Binghe did grow back rapidly. It wouldn’t take that long before Binghe was old enough for shen qingqiu to feel comfortable touching. “Hmm, at the rate you usually grow… maybe we can do it a week from now?” 

Luo Binghe passed out. 

*

“Mu-shidi, how can you say this isn’t a qi deviation?” Shen Qingqiu insisted. “Just look at him! What other explanation could there be?” 

His martial brother must have gone insane. He grasped Luo Binghe’s wrist once more, looking over the unconscious boy. “Shixiong, this one… still doesn’t understand what you mean.” He released the arm and adjusted his glasses. “Though he seems to have suffered some sort of shock, it is minor and there is zero harm to his meridians. He will wake up shortly.”

No harm to his meridians? Then what else could explain why his husband was suddenly a head shorter than him? Luo Binghe did have some shape-shifting skills… perhaps they went beyond just hiding his demonic huadian and eyes? Could he also change his appearance to such a degree he looked like a teenager again? 

“Then I suppose this master will take his husband back to the bamboo house and follow up once he wakes.” Shen Qingqiu stood, scooping Luo Binghe into his arms. “Thanking shidi for his time.” 

He was nearly at the door when he heard a strangled “WAIT!” call out behind him. Shen qingqiu glanced over his shoulder impatiently. He didn’t want to be holding Binghe like a bride when he came to… Binghe would insist on it constantly and further tarnish his status as a stallion protagonist! 

Mu Qingfang’s eyes were bugged out, ink dripping from his pen onto his hand. “What did you just say!?” 

Shen qingqiu raised a brow, shuffling binghe into a more comfortable hold closer to his chest. “This shixiong thanked shidi…” Shen qingqiu said slowly. 

Mu Qingfang’s tense shoulders lowered slightly. “Right… that’s all shixiong said.”

“Yes? Thank you for checking on this master’s husband.” 

Mu Qingfang threw up blood as Shen Qingqiu exited the infirmary. 

*

Shen Qingqiu had just finished tucking Binghe into their bed when the door to the bamboo house was kicked open. He readied his ‘disappointed teacher’ voice to reprimand Liu Qingge, but was stunned into silence when he found Yue Qingyuan sprinting into his bedroom instead. 

“Zhangmen shixiong,” Shen Qingqiu said with a raised brow. “May this shidi help you?” 

Yue Qingyuan’s voice was choked as he called, “Xiao-Jiu!” 

Shen Qingqiu's lip instinctively twisted down. “If shixiong has something to say to this Qingqiu, he may do so.” He said pettily. “Otherwise, I’m busy taking care of my husband.”

“Husband,” Yue Qingyuan repeated. He squirmed nervously under Shen Qingqiu’s gaze. “Mu-shidi informed me you said something similar, I… xia- um, Qingqiu-shidi, are you alright? You… you’re not married… right?” 

…Sect leader Yue. You were at the wedding! 

“Is this a joke?” Shen Qingqiu answered coolly. “Luo Binghe would not take kindly to this kind of statement.” 

Yue Qingyuan staggered backwards, falling onto a chair with an anguished expression. His eyes fell upon Shen Qingqiu’s bed, where Luo Binghe lay sleeping and his eyes widened. “How…? Shidi, this is- he’s your disciple!” 

“This master does not understand,” Shen Qingqiu said irritably. “Luo Binghe and I have been wed for over a year, so why now are you making such a fuss?” 

“A year…?” 

More footsteps invaded the bamboo house, until half his martial siblings had invited themselves in. Qi Qingqi, Liu Qingge, even great master Airplane had arrived! Yue Qingyuan looked to Mu Qingfang with dread. “Mu-shidi…” 

The tragedy clear on the sect leader’s face said it all. Mu Qingfang grimaced. “Something must be done. Shen-shidi is having delusions of marriage!” 

…okay, that was it. Shen Qingqiu had allowed his martial siblings to subtly disapprove of his relationship with Binghe for all this time, but this was too far. 

“Enough!” He cried. “Luo Binghe is my husband, and that will not change! Everyone will treat him with the respect that is deserved of Qing Jing’s shimu!” 

The sound of something crashing to the ground pulled their attention back to the peak lord’s bed. It seemed Luo Binghe had woken up, gotten out of bed, and then immediately passed out again after taking two steps. 

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu cried. Seriously, what was going on? Did Airplane write a narcolepsy arc he never mentioned? 

As Shen qingqiu lifted Binghe back onto the bed, a younger voice joined them. “Shizun, why was everyone running into the bamboo house? Is everything okay?” 

At the threshold of his bedroom Ning Yingying had arrived, followed by the head disciple. 

Shen Qingqiu gawked at her small stature. What the-!? Did Ning Yingying also qi deviate? And Ming Fan, too? Why did all his disciples look about ten years younger- 

Oh.

Oh no.

Ha… hahaha… that was the trouble with immortals. Year after year, their faces looked exactly the same. 

System, Shen Qingqiu asked with dawning horror, what's going on? 

[Sounds like host has already figured it out! Limited event: Returning to the Peaceful Past is in progress!]

You bastard, you couldn't have said that earlier!? 

So Shen Qingqiu had temporarily returned to the past. He’d told his sixteen year old disciple they would dual cultivate and informed all his martial siblings he had married the boy at 15. For a thin faced man like Shen Qingqiu, something of this level… he couldn’t bear his fellow peak lord’s shocked and judging faces. 

“S-so…” Shen Qingqiu laughed nervously. “Um… that was all a joke, okay?” 

[cookies-after-dark]

BRO AND W/ THE BEAST SOUNDS

i think they have?? multiple grows?? stay with me now-

there's growls that are mildly threatening, smth small that are used as a warning (think of like,, animals getting nipped during play and they get annoyed; it's a sort of growl that says "hey i didn't like that")

AND THEN there's the growls that are actually threatening, like they're wildly pissed off, and in my head they sound eldritch, like something you would never hear on earthbread, something that awakens primal fear in cookies (altho all growls sound different, they cause the same effect)

i can imagine w/ all the beasts in yandere contexts (altho smilk is always on my mind), when their darling escapes that growl leaves them and the jam (?) of everyone around gets cold. or they catch their darling mid-escape attempt and growl like that, to scare the darling out of ever trying that again (picture smilk growling like that while his darling is almost out of the spire, the darling freezes, and he picks them up by the scruff and drags them back to his bedroom *ahem, nest*, no words needed; as a side note, i think the darling would never expect a sound like that to leave smilk, which is even more terrifying and they remember that truly, at the end of the day, they're dealing w/ an eldritch god)

eldritch beasts my beloveds

additional tags: yanderes, unhealthy relationship dynamics, kidnapping, isolation, predator/prey dynamics, possessiveness

ships: yan!burning spice cookie x reader, yan!mystic flour cookie x reader, yan!shadow milk cookie x reader

The very very few (two) mutuals from my mains/discord that I allow to see this blog will read this and look at me like 😒 because projecting animal linguistics and animal behaviors/socialization onto animal-like characters are like, the only things I ever talk about.

I cannot imagine in any universe that any Beast (that have so far been released) other than Shadow Milknwould ever he angry that you escaped, even the yabdwre versions. Burning Spice Cookie delights in having another chance to hunt you down like a prized buck, and Mystic Flour Cookie is so emotionally balanced and capable that any feelings or urgency or dissatisfaction can be tempered before she brings you back herself.

Burning Spice Cookie, upon seeing your nest empty and your scent stale, would growl in excitement. He'd climb atop the highest ledge and let out a loud bellow; not of rage but a rallying call, a mighty sound that carries for miles. Whereever you may be, it's most likely you hear it, and so does any other spice warrior in the vicnity. Burning Spice Cookie wants to let everyone in his territory know that the hunt is on.

Mystic Flour Cookie is mostly unpreturbed by your escape, she knows you won't be gone for long. Her vocalizations are mostly saved for you anyway; so the most you'll hear is a chuff or a deep sigh as soon as she curls your arms around you to take you home.

Even as yanderes, those two are pretty "well adjusted", for Beasts anyway, that they won't immediately fly off the rail in anger if they find you missing. Surprisingly, yandere Burning Spice Cookie is slower to anger than yandere Shadow Milk Cookie for several reasons (BS isn't nearly as insecure, for one very important reason).

Shadow Milk Cookie, though? It would be a straight up lie to say that Shadow Milk Cookie doesn't enjoy scaring the wits out of you when you step out of line. Either through his illusions or his straight up Eldritch Call that basically says "You little annoying gnat, stop right where you are." in unholy monster language. But make no mistake, it pisses him off when he has to go fetch you again.

He's possessive in a way that feels more personal and targeted than even Burning Spice Cookie, and he's unrelenting in a way that feels more restricting than Mystic Flour Cookie.

Even Black Sapphire Cookie and Candy Apple Cookie can't help but back off when they hear Shadow Milk Cookie snarl so dreadfully like that. They don't risk getting in his way to bring you back and discipline you; they know he's got a handle on that.

[trippinsorrows]

my all + part 2

authors note: well, you whores have done it again. finessed a part 2 out of something from me. and because i'm me, i took it too far, so expect a third and final part after this one.

i took a little too much inspo from batman lore as well as joker and harley quinn.

tldr: this shit is unhinged.

part one

disclaimer: i own none of the recognizable characters or universes.

words: 7.7k

*** gif belongs to @dejameflorecer ***

story song inspo: 'my all' by mariah carey /// chapter song inspo: gangsta by kehlani

warnings: smut and angst

Roman loves when she rides him.

It’s something Solana has noticed about most men. A favorite position of sorts. She’s not sure if it’s his number one favorite, but it’s pretty high up there. He especially loves when she rides him reverse cowgirl, loves seeing the bounce of her juicy ass up and down on his massive cock. 

She can’t lie and try to say it hasn’t become one of her favorite positions as well. Being on top is such an exhaustive thing. Knees hurting, thighs aching, cramps and galore. It’s a workout for sure, something she was never really crazy about with sexual partners in the past.

But, they weren’t Roman.

There’s no man like him.

No one who can fuck her and bring out such a dirty, kinky side of her like him.

That man can do just about anything to and with her in the bedroom, and she’ll be a sobbing, overstimulated mess every single time. 

Solana cries out when Roman’s hand comes down on her ass. That’s another thing he seems to love. Grabbing and slapping her ass, an almost mesmerized look in his eyes every time it jiggles and recoils from the movement.

And, there’s a lot of movement coming from said position.

“That’s a good girl,” he goads, his voice dripping with desire and lust. “Look at how good you ride daddy’s dick.”

She moans, eyes shut, hands playing with her nipples, head thrown back. “Does it feel good, daddy?”

“Feels fucking amazing,” he groans. Solana can only imagine the enchanted expression on his handsome face. His hair wild and free, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead from all the exertion. 

They’ve been at it for almost two hours now with only brief breaks in between rounds. 

“Such a good, submissive pretty girl for me,” he compliments, Solana moaning from the praise. She’s quickly and easily become a whore for such things, for his approval. To be not only his pretty girl but his good girl.

“God, your dick feels so good inside me,” she whimpers. Roman’s hand moves to the small of her slick back, applying just enough pressure to tell her exactly what he wants. Bending over, Solana grabs for Roman’s ankles, using them to stabilize herself as she bounces higher, hips and ass wiggling as she alternates between bouncing and grinding.

A lethal combination.

“Fuck, Sol, just like that. Ride this dick like you own it, baby.” 

“I do,” she responds, eyes still closed, caught up in the bliss and pleasure that comes from his thick dick in and out of her, touching and reaching her in all the best and right places. “This is my dick.”

A sense of possessiveness unlike her. But, to be fair, almost everything about her relationship with Roman is unlike her. 

She’s a loose version of herself.

Something she’s having a hard time even caring about the longer this shit goes on. 

Another slap to her ass. “Damn straight.” Solana is caught up in the sex filled haze when she’s suddenly moved, shifted entirely. Roman expertly adjusts them, never once leaving her slippery, wet ass pussy as he moves to his knees. Solana is propelled forward, half her body now hanging off the bed, her hands planted on the ground.

“Shit!”

Roman is now pounding into her from behind, her body jerking back and forth at the end of the bed, her hands sliding all over the place. 

“Best goddamn pussy I’ve ever fucking had,” he praises once more as tears burn Solana eyes from the depth and feel of him. “Ain’t nobody better than you, baby. Nobody.”

Solana is partially paying attention and mostly trying not to lose her goddamn mind from this new position. Roman stays splitting her open, pinning her down, turning her left, right, side to side and in any other way he can imagine. He be doing just anything, and she eats it up every single time. 

She’s addicted, to say the least.

Her body is his sex rag doll to do as he pleases, and it shames her to admit that it’s truly one of the greatest joys in life to serve the Tribal Chief as she does.

His pretty little slut, as he calls her. 

An honor, truly.

To the surprise of no one, Solana comes all over his dick, her cream coating his still fully erect member, all over her ass, lap, the bed. Everywhere. They always make such a mess during these visits.

But, Roman is a man who needs more than that. Always more. 

He moves her once more, propping her right on his dick, facing him this time. His big hands on her hips moving her up and down his length, fucking her right through her orgasm. The tears have spilled over. It all just feels too good, so good.

“Doesn’t daddy take good care of you?” He groans, still guiding her, recognizing she’s in no position—just yet—to take him on her own. She’s still trying to come down from her orgasm, something he can tell by the way her cunt keeps pulsing and clenching him. 

“Yes,” she gasps, hands over his, eyes fluttering open and close. “A–always.”

It takes a minute, and it’s not helped at all by the way he keeps thrusting in and out of her with an unhealthy need, but she eventually settles enough to take over. Solana moves Roman’s hands from her hips, holding them up on the side of his head. Body leaned over his as she rides him like her life depends on it, the eroticness of it all is increased as he takes her nipple into his mouth, sucking and moaning. 

Solana cries out, her pleasure just intensified by ten. Roman loves her big breast and never bypasses an opportunity to suck on her titties, just like she never wastes a chance to deepthroat him in the way she’s learned he loves. Fucking her throat while she plays with his balls.

Their freak knows no end when it comes to each other.

Roman is an equal opportunist, giving each breast the appropriate amount of attention, but he eventually tires and wants something else.

He detaches his mouth from her right breast with a loud pop, tugging Solana down so he can kiss her. A wet, sloppy thing that has both of them moaning into and on each other as she continues to grind down on his addictive, life changing dick.

“Tell me you love me.”

Filthy, naughty, nasty things are usually said in the bedroom or wherever else Roman decides to fuck her. Most of them come from him, some from her when he gets her in that raunchy space as only he can do.

And, it’s not always just the obscene confessions. There are times where it’s less kinky and a lot more romantic. Kind and caring. Roman always has such a range about him, always somehow knowing just what she needs and how she needs it.

But, this…..this is different.

Solana has never said anything like this.

Never demanded anything like this.

She’s thought about it. Thought about it so much to the extent that her head started to hurt.

She knows she loves Roman. Knows that she’s in love with Roman, but she’s never been able to settle on a final answer regarding if he, in fact, loves her.

So, such a thing escaping the cages of her deepest fears is an unfortunate thing indeed.

The body takes a second to respond, so there’s a delay that prevents Solana from freezing and settling into the panic that ceases all movement. But, it’s an unnecessary thing. 

It’s unnecessary, because Roman responds.

“I love you, baby.”

Now, that….that definitely takes the cake.

Because what?

Solana has no time to process that, either, because Roman is sitting up, pulling her chest flush against him. He stares at her, gradually dragging her against his length, never breaking eye contact. She just continues to stare back, mouth partially ajar, as he brings his hand to her face. A tenderness in the way he cups her cheek matched by the shift of wild, erratic fucking to an almost gentle type of lovemaking.

“I love you, Solana.” 

It’s the second reiteration that breaks the shock, that has Solana scoffing quietly in disbelief. Eyes shut, he kisses her lips, Solana holding onto and hugging him as he buries his face into her neck. Another utterance occurs, pressed into her skin, lodging into her soul, shattering what little defenses remain.

Clutching the back of his head, hugging him tighter as he fucks her deeper, she whimpers, “I love you, too….”

—------

She doesn’t say anything after that. 

Nothing regarding that mind-blowing, unexpected confession. Part of it is fear, part of it is disbelief. A lot of it is still being in a state of shock.

Skepticism, even. 

A lot of things get said during sex. Especially sex with Roman. What if it was something just said in the heat of the moment without much thought? After all, she was the one who kicked it off, who brought it up in the first place.

What if he just wanted to get his nut and didn’t want to risk upsetting her by telling her the truth? By rejecting her?

All valid questions, in her mind. None of which she wants the answers to.

A few hours later, Solana stands in the kitchen, having just finished washing up the dishes from the dinner she’d cooked for them. Nothing nearly as nice as she’d like, given limited supplies and resources but enough, enough for them.

She’s drying her hands and hanging the wash towel over the faucet when Roman comes up behind her. 

A small smile on her face as he holds her and kisses the side of her neck. Solana grasps onto his arms and readies to ask him to lay down with her. 

She’s exhausted.

For more reasons than he realizes.

“I’ll be out sometime next month.”

Solana’s eyes widen. It seems the day is just full of surprises.

She turns to look at him, whispering almost, “what?”

Roman makes a sound, lifting his hand to her face. His index finger traces the outline of her full lips. “That’s why they were here earlier. To give me the update.”

The they he speaks of refers to his two cousins, Jimmy and Jey, as well as his older brother, Matteo. On a couple of occasions, during their EFV visits, the men who are also apart of his inner circle, have come over. They never stay long, never over an hour. The four of them talking quietly amongst themselves as Solana sort of hides out in the bedroom, door closed. 

It’s not a thing of fear. Any and all interactions with the other men have been pleasant. Silly, almost, as the twins are certainly characters. Matteo is very much like his brother, more on the quiet side. But, he’s always been kind, always respectful. The three of them, in a weird sort of way, the kind of people she could see befriending. 

If not for the weird circumstances. 

“About fucking time….” Roman trails off, an undeniable sense of relief on his handsome face and in his voice. But, it doesn’t extend to Solana. Not in the way that it probably should.

It can’t. It can’t, because what she’s been avoiding for almost five months now can no longer be avoided. That terrifying question of what happens when Roman is released from prison. It’s a question she finally has to ask.

There’s no more room for avoidance.

“So…what happens now?” 

A heavy frown falls on his face as he eyes her, asking with understandable confusion. “What do you mean?”

Solana swallows. This is the last conversation she expected to be having today, even if it’s something she should have seen coming. She knew it would come at some point. Just not this point.

“What—what happens when you’re out?” Wording it is significantly more difficult than she could have imagined. Each question feels like a slow slice of the knife into her gentle, sensitive heart. “Will this….will this all be over?” Her eyes glaze over with unshed tears. “Is….is this the end?”

A terrifying, devastating question she’s not sure she wants or can even handle the answer to.

Solana doesn’t want this to end.

Ever.

“Sol….” Roman’s frown deepens as he turns her around completely, hands lifting to gently cup her face. “Baby, where is this coming from?”

There’s something about that question that irrationally upsets her. Annoys her for reasons she can’t identify. “You’re—you’re leaving, Roman. We won’t—we won’t see each other anymo—”

“Solana.” His voice lowers, shifting into something authoritative. “I’m leaving this shithole. Not you.” He looks around the trailer with disgust before landing his gaze back on her. Confused and sympathetic. “I could never leave you….I love you, Solana.”

Solana can only look at him, briefly returning to that state of shock at hearing him say something she’d stupidly tried to convince herself was a fluke.

“You….” A hushed, almost whispered thing, weighed down by continued apprehension. “You do?”

Roman’s expression of shock only deepens her shock. “Of course.” He sounds almost offended that she could even ask such a thing, like she should already know. “You have to fucking know that, Solana.”

No, she doesn’t. She didn’t. 

“Why do you think I do everything I do for you? Look out for you the way I do? Make sure you’re safe and taken care of?” Him listing off each question is the equivalent of that same knife previously digging into her heart, now gradually being pulled out. 

Solana swallows, suddenly feeling just a little stupid. Stupid for not putting all of the glaring pieces together. Still, he deserves an answer. Deserves the truth. “The sex….”

“I’ve fucked a lot of women in my life, Solana.” It’s not a boastful announcement. Nothing arrogant. Just the beginning of a profound point. “And never have I done any of the shit I do for you for them. You know why?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just dips his head to ghost his lips over hers. “Because I never loved them the way I love you.” His eyes flutter shut, his volume dropping. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Stunned.

Solana is stunned.

The day she’s dreaded has just, in a matter of seconds, with a few, powerful, life-changing sentences, has become the day she’s vied for since the moment she laid eyes on Roman Reigns.

Roman loves her.

He actually fucking loves her.

It’s such a wonderful, overwhelming feeling, to say the least.

And since they’re in the space of confession, and she feels so loved in this moment, Roman kissing the top of her head, his other moving to the small of her back, she has to take advantage of it.

Has to share her own confession of sorts.

“Roman….” He looks down at her, and her heart, for lack of better term, skips a beat. Here goes nothing. “I—I’m pregnant.”

Something about telling Roman that she loved him was always terrifying, but there was something even more intimidating about sharing that piece of information with him. Info she’s been sitting on for almost a week, but something she’s known even longer.

As a woman and a nurse, Solana was certain she already knew what her test results would come back with. She knows herself, knows her body, and she definitely knew that the chances were high. A bad experience with the IUD left her sworn off birth control, along with Roman not once ever even mentioning a condom, conjoined with the fact that they fuck almost several times a week. It all made sense.

Of course, she would end up pregnant.

The very thing she wanted.

And, maybe, just maybe, he wanted as well. 

Because the small smile on his face doesn’t seem like something from a man who’s upset at such life altering news. “Yeah?” She watches him shift that hand from her back to her stomach, where he slides his hand under her shirt and over her belly. “Are you sure?”

Solana hesitates. It all still feels so unreal. “Yeah….” She licks her lips, something calm coming over her as he moves his hand in small circles. “I’m—I’m six weeks.”

Another unexpected response. “Good.”

Solana feels even more stupid just staring at him, but the response she’s receiving isn’t exactly what she was expecting. “You’re…you’re happy?” It’s less a question and more an assessment. Solana didn’t think that he’d be upset, per se, but she also wasn’t expecting such an….almost jovial response and disposition. 

“I told you I was going to put a baby in you,” he reminds. Even more, she’d asked him to give her a baby. Another important detail. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you, Solana.” Her chest tightens. It’s the first time he’s referred to beyond this prison ordeal. His big hand stills, planted flatly and protectively on her belly. “Our child is just the beginning of that.” 

She scoffs in waning disbelief, as Roman lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I don’t want you working here anymore.”

Solana’s smile falters just a bit. “Wh–what?” Yet another unexpected thing to leave his mouth for the nineteenth time today. “W–why?”

His answer is simple and firm. “It’s not safe.” Solana goes to protest when he reminds her of the basic facts. “You being pregnant and working as a correctional nurse in a maximum security prison is a disaster waiting to happen, Sol.” 

He doesn't have to bring up her attack for her to know that's largely what he's indirectly referring to.

“It won’t happen again,” she points out, softly. Her hand is planted on his chest. “You—you made sure of that.”

Prisoners taken to her infirmary have barely even looked at her, let alone had the balls to get smart—or worse since Roman's act of vengeance. His grisly message was loud and clear.

She’s off limits. Something about her being pregnant doesn’t seem like it’d change anything, but Roman seems to think otherwise.

“I won’t risk it,” he announces. “I won’t risk anything happening to you.” He resumes his circular movements across the span of her belly. “Or our baby.”

There’s something almost soft and caring about the way he says it. About how he says our baby, because that’s exactly what and who this is. Their child. A child he’s clearly only looking out for. The same way he always looks out for her. 

And, Solana knows he’s right. Knows that her continuing to work at the prison probably isn’t the best. Not for a lot of reasons. 

The smart decision is for her to quit and find another job.

“Okay,” she agrees, looking up at him. “I’ll—I’ll put in my two weeks Monday.”

Relief flashes in his hazel eyes. “Good.” He leans down and kisses her. Soft, slow, and sensual. Just the way she likes. The ways she loves. He wraps his arms around her once more, Solana’s eyes shutting from the instant comfort and warmth he grants. “I’m gonna take care of you, Solana. I always will.” A beat. “I promise.”

—----

Solana waits to tell them.

Waits until she’s showing and therefore unable to keep it a secret any longer.

The table is filled with conversation amongst her siblings and parents. Her nieces and nephews playing out back, being watched by the older kids. Teenagers.

Solana’s been on the quiet side the entire evening. Not that it’s noticed by anyone or any different from most of their family gatherings. Rarely does anyone ever notice much about her, period.

But, they did notice the 2025 Range Rover parked out front in her parents driveway. A gift from Roman. One of many.

Just like the penthouse he gifted her. Separate from the one he lives in. The one they live in together.

“I’m pregnant.”

It goes largely unheard and unaddressed. Not that Solana is surprised. That’s usually the case. However, one hand on the bump concealed under her babydoll shirt, and she knows this is one of those times where she can’t let it go.

She has to say something. 

So, she does.

“I’m pregnant.” A repeating that’s louder and firmer, even though it only catches the attention of her older sister, Zuri.

Zuri looks at her, instantly scowling. Also unsurprising. Zuri, of all her siblings, is the most….difficult, to say the least. “What?” The smile on Isabella’s face dims when she notices her big sister scowling at Solana. “What did you just say?”

It’s only then that Solana has gathered the attention of almost everyone at the table. A stressful thing but something she wanted.

Here goes nothing.

“I said….” Solana takes a deep breath, continuing to rub her belly under the table. “I’m pregnant.”

She’s met with an array of expressions, some confused, some amused, and some floored. 

“You’re kidding, right?” DJ scoffs, wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin, looking around the table for some indicator of him being the only one not in on the joke. “You’re not serious?”

“Of course, she’s not,” Isabella laughs. It’s a nervous laugh. “Sola isn’t even seeing anyone right now, how could she be pregnant?”

Zuri remains scowling, wisely pointing out. “You don’t have to be dating anyone to get knocked up. Fucking is a commitment free thing.”

“Language,” Nina, Solana’s mother scolds her oldest daughter. She then looks over at Solana, nervous as all outdoors. “Sweetheart, what do you mean you’re pregnant?”

Having a set of speculative eyes on her does little to settle Solana’s nerves, but it doesn’t deter her from carrying through with her task. “I mean that I’m pregnant.” Realizing a more….visible display is required, Solana stands up and lifts her shirt up just enough to show her baby bump. A round of gasps and sounds of shock. Solana rubs her belly in a small circle, a small smile falling on her face. “I’m almost four months.”

But, while pride fills Solana thinking about her baby growing inside of her, terror and horror is struck amongst her family. 

“What the hell, Solana?” Harris, her second oldest brother, has an expression of ardent disapproval. “How the hell did you get yourself knocked up?”

Zuri scoffs. “I think we know the answer to that, H.” Solana sits down, suddenly uncomfortable with sharing her exposed stomach with such a judgmental crowd. “I think a better question is why.”

“I agree,” Darnell, Solana’s father, speaks for the first time. His gaze is stern and even. “Solana, you just started that job not even a year ago, and already you’re pregnant?”

It’s then Solana drops another bombshell, attention on the now cold plate of unfinished food. “I quit.”

Another round of gasps and sounds of disapproval.

“What do you mean you quit, Solana?” Nina questions, sitting forward at the table. She shakes her head. “That was a good job you had. A good paying, stable job, honey.”

Solana doesn’t necessarily disagree, but the point she’s about to make made the most sense given her situation. “The baby’s father and I agreed it wasn’t safe for me to be working there while pregnant.” 

“And just who is the father, huh?” DJ presses, though it feels more like a demand than anything. “And how long have ya’ll even been dating or screwing or whatever for you to let him get you pregnant in the first place?”

Solana knew she wasn’t going to be met with overall enjoyment. Almost all of her siblings had their children out of wedlock, and though her parents never outright said it, she’s always known their hope was she wouldn’t fall in line.

That she’d stick with that outdated, traditional timeline of dating, marriage, and a baby.

All things she’s achieved, just not in that order, per se.

However, their tumultuousness from just the first part of her news has her even more nervous about how they’re going to react to this next part. 

Regardless, it needs to be done.

She clears her throat. “His name is Roman.” Another deep breath. “Roman Reigns.”

Silence.

More silence. 

And then….then laughter.

Around her, Solana looks to see every member of her family with amused smiles on their face, oblivious laughter leaving their mouths.

“Lil' girl, you almost got us there.” Her dad chuckles. “Roman Reigns? That’s a good one.”

However, it’s her mom who detects that Solana remains with the same neutral, almost nervous expression that she’s had since first making her shocking announcement, and it’s that unchanging piece that allows the rest to come together.

“Oh my God….” She gasps, grabbing her husband’s hand, forcing him to look at her. “She’s serious.”

And, that statement from the matriarch transcends around the table, bringing on the clearly uncomfortable truth. 

And the judgmental, floored stares have returned with a newfound intensity. 

“Roman Reigns?” Comes from Zuri who’s no longer annoyed. She’s pissed. “What the fuck do you mean Roman Reigns is the father?”

“Solana, do you know who that man is?” DJ asks, like she’s stupid. Like she’s some illiterate child who needs to be educated. “He’s a fucking mafia kingpin.”

“He’s a murderer.”

“A monster.”

More hurtful, judgmental adjectives used to describe the man Solana loves more than anything in this word. 

“How did you even me—” Her father starts to ask, but Solana watches him. Watches as the horrifying reality sets into him. “Solana, tell me you didn’t.” She looks away, tears suddenly burning her eyes. “Tell me you weren’t sleeping with that man while he was in the prison where you worked.”

More gasps.

Silence from Solana. 

She can’t and won’t deny the truth.

“I love him,” is all the response she can muster. She hates how weak and soft her voice sounds. “And—and he loves me. We’re…we’re in love.” 

A loud bang on the table startles her. Solana looks up to see her father as the source as he stands from where he was previously sitting. “He’s not capable of love, Solana! He’s a fucking sociopath, and I can’t believe you could be so naive to fall for his bullshit!”

“Darnell, please.” Nina also stands up, placing her hand on his arm. A comforting act to hopefully help calm him down. “Sweetie—”

“Why haven’t you aborted it yet?” Zuri suddenly asks the question Solana should have expected but wasn’t necessarily anticipating. 

Her hand moves back to her stomach. “What?” 

“You can’t keep that thing,” she sneers. “It’ll probably end up being the next Ted Bundy or some shit.”

“Zuri,” Isabella says in a soft voice. Solana senses some level of sympathy from her family. She casts Solana an almost empathetic glance. 

“Zuri’s right,” Harris scoffs. “Why the hell would you want to have a fucking psychopath’s baby?”

“He’s not a psychopath,” Solana defends. For the first time in this whole shitshow of an announcement, she feels a new emotion. Defensiveness. 

She feels defensive over her lover. Over the father of her child. Over the man she loves. 

“You don’t know him,” she continues.

“No, you don’t know him,” Darnell snaps, pointing his finger at her. “Solana, I’ve spent my entire career putting scum like him behind bars. But, you know what I’ve had to do more of? Investigate and clean up all the murders he’s committed over the years.” She looks away, unable to withstand his disgusted expression. “Do you have any idea how many bodies—body parts—he’s left scattered around this city? He’s not even human, because no human being could do the things he’s done.”

This kind of response, specifically from her dad, was something she did sort of anticipate. It made sense. The police chief’s daughter falling in love with a mafia kingpin who’s been a thorn in his side for 20+ years?

It only made sense. 

“I wasn’t….” Solana speaks again, needing to somehow wrap this up. She’s not sure how much more she can take. “I wasn’t expecting any of you to understand or even agree with the decisions I’ve made, and that—that’s okay.” Her voice cracks at the end, giving away the fact that it’s most definitely not okay. From feeling forgotten by her family her whole life, to now being shunned and judged so harshly, it’s a borderline traumatic experience. “I just—I just wanted to let you all know, because we’re going out of town for a little while, so—”

“You’re what?” Darnell interrupts. “The hell you are. You’re not anywhere with that damn man!”

At that, Solana’s defensiveness returns just a bit. “I’m not a child anymore. You can’t—”

“Maybe not, but you are fucking stupid.” DJ scoffs, also now standing, his arms crossed, largely reflecting their father, the man he was named after. “It’s bad enough you let that man impregnate you, but now you're talking about going away with him? To where?”

She swallows. “He owns a private island—”

“Great, so he can kill you and scatter what remains in the ocean in the middle of fucking nowhere.” Zuri smiles, rubbing her temples, shooting Solana a wink. “Great fucking idea, lil’ sis.”

“Roman would never hurt me or our baby—”

“Solana….” Nina speaks, her voice surprisingly soft. “Did he…did he force himself on you?” A heartbreaking, almost horrified question that has Solana’s eyes widening. 

“No! He’s not like that!”

“That’s exactly what he’s like!” 

“It’s like he’s….brainwashed you or something.” Nina whispers, eyes glossing over. “Oh, mija, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“You’re terminating that pregnancy first thing tomorrow, Solana.”

“No, I’m not.” She shakes her head, both hands planted on her stomach. “This is my baby. It’s our baby, and I’m not getting rid of it! We—we were trying to get pregnant. We—wanted to have him. We want—”

“Him?” 

Solana closes her eyes. 

Shit.

She hadn’t meant to disclose that part.

“It’s a boy?” Isabella whispers, looking over at Zuri.

“You definitely have to get rid of it, then!”  

“Of course, she is.”

“No, I’m not,” Solana reiterates, sitting forward in her chair, starting to push back in her chair. “This is my body. My choice. My pregnancy, and my baby that I am keeping.”

“Solana, you’ve already been stupid enough to ruin your whole life and reputation by breaking not only rules but laws by getting caught up with that man,” Darnell dismisses her wishes. Completely washes over her sounds of protest. “Don’t further that stupid by tying yourself down to that thug for the next 18 years.” Another level of disgust and disdain mars his aged face. “Having a baby for a man ten years your senior is one thing, but having a baby for that man is something entirely different.” He shakes his head. “You’re not keeping it.”

It’s probably the culmination of the conversation as a whole that pushes Solana over the edge. Has her slamming her hand down on the table, forcing the surprise and focus of her family around her. “I’m keeping my baby, and that’s that!” Completely done with being attacked and slammed beyond a hurtful response, Solana stands up from the table. “I’m leaving.”

“Sweetie, please, don’t leave,” Nina implores, starting to round the table, stopping about halfway. As if feeling uncomfortable being too close to her. It stings. For sure. “We need to figure this out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Zuri cuts through, taking the side of her dad and siblings. “Either she gets rid of it or—”

“Or what?” Solana presses. “I said I’m keeping my baby.” Not only is that something Solana could never personally see herself doing, though she supports any and all women who make that choice, she knows that she’s too far along in her pregnancy to go about it, at least in their state, even if she wanted to. Knows as someone who’s in the medical field. The same field her mom and sister are in, so them not saying anything to express disagreement with such a thing being suggested is….hurtful, to say the least. 

“Solana Esmeralda Miller.” Her father’s use of her full name stalls Solana as she reaches for her purse, back towards her family who continue to throw insult after insult at her, ruining what should be a beautiful time in her life all because they don’t understand. They don’t want to understand. “As long as you are with that man, you aren’t welcome in this house.”

Solana doesn’t have to be facing the group to know it’s her mom that gasps. “Darnell, please, she’s still our daughter—”

“My daughter would never get herself caught up in some foolishness like this!”

“She needs our support right now!”

“She needs to stop being so damn dumb!”

“So let’s help her, not persecute her!”

Solana’s eyes shut. Too much. It’s all too much. 

“Would you all just shut up!” Solana turns around and snaps, unable to keep the reins on her emotions any longer. “Stop acting like you all care!” Because they don’t. Their entire disposition and response thus far have concerned just as much. “For years, years, I’ve felt invisible in this family. It never mattered how good I did, how unproblematic I was, I always came last.”

Nina’s shoulders drop. “Honey….”

Solana shakes her head. “Roman loves me. He makes me feel special and wanted, and…I need that. I’ve needed that for so long, and now I finally have it, and I’m not going to let any of you take that away from me.” She sniffles. “I’m not going to let anyone take him away from me.”

But while there’s a sort of relief that comes from speaking her mind, sharing with them trauma she’s sat on for so long, the relief is quickly snatched away through her father’s emotionless response. 

“So that’s what it was? That’s how easy you were for him?” He sneers. “He shows you a little bit of attention, and you go opening up your legs?”

“Daddy, stop,” Isabella murmurs, continuing to look empathetic but not really doing anything to speak up for her sister. To defend her.

“I’m done here,” Solana angrily jerks her body away as her mother tries to reach for her. “None of you will ever have a relationship with my child.” And with a heartbreaking realization, she shares the part she feared the most. “And I may not, either.”

—------------

6.

That’s how many people Roman kills. 

All fuckers who’d betrayed him or played a role in the plot that got him locked up for all those months. Slowly, methodically, and with great detail and precision. He ensures to prolong their suffering for as long as humanly possible.

And, even that, even being practically bathed in their blood, in human flesh, pieced of severed organs and other grisly remnants of his butchering, does little to settle him. To settle that uncontrollable rage that influenced the gruesome murders.

Because, the people he really wants to hurt are the people he can’t touch. Solana’s family. 

Her mother. 

Her two sisters and two brothers.

Her fucking father.

Chief Miller has always been a fucking pain in the ass, but this incident has crossed a fucking line. Roman coming home to find his wife sitting on the floor. At the edge of the bed. Crying her eyes out because of how awful they all responded to her pregnancy announcement, about her relationship with him. The only thing he could do after comforting her and soothing her to sleep, was commit murder. But, he couldn't have the victims he really wanted.

Because his wife is kind and good, the things he is not. She doesn’t want them dead. He might, but she doesn’t. And, she doesn’t even have to specify as such, because that’s just not Solana.

She’d rather take it all on the chin and eventually work and move past it.

Not Roman.

Fuck that. 

In his eyes, they all deserve to fucking burn.

But, as much as they hurt Solana, Roman knows she still loves them. She loves her family, and that’s why their reaction hurt her so much. Because while he knows a part of her knew they wouldn’t respond well, he also knows that she was hoping maybe, just maybe, they would be a little understanding.

He knew better though.

He knew they wouldn’t react well, but for the fucking Hallmark type people they tried to portray themselves to be, he didn’t anticipate they’d be so cruel to Solana.

His pretty girl. 

It’s why he partially wishes he’d gone with her.

The same way he wants to go with her now.

“Solana, are you sure this is a good idea?” 

She turns around from where she just placed another bathing suit in their suitcase. He’s not sure why she’s packing clothes at all. He doesn’t plan for them to do anything but fuck, relax, and enjoy each other for the next two weeks.

She sighs, walking over, Roman unable to resist a chance to glance at her stomach. The fabric of her dress falls perfectly against the swell of her bump.

Their baby.

His son.

Solana moves in front of him, hands on his chest as he holds her, kissing her temple. “I have to try.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t agree. After the shit they pulled last week, her piece of shit family deserves nothing from her, let alone another chance. 

But, he loves her and respects her, so he has to respect her decision. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Largely due to him wanting to be the much needed buffer if anything goes left. Also because he wants to be there to support her. 

However, she shakes her head, pulling back to look up at him. “I—I think it might make it worse.”

He’s quiet, once again, because she’s probably not wrong. As much as Roman loves the woman in front of him, he’s not sure he’d be able to control his temper if her dad and/or brothers were to say some shit. Doesn’t know if he’d be able to end the night without dropping at least one of them. 

He nods, hand moving up and down her back. “Fine, but at least take your security detail, Sol.”

That’s the thing that he really still isn’t okay with. He understands why she didn’t want them with her before, because she wasn’t ready to tell her family about them, but now that they know? He’s highly uncomfortable with her going over there completely alone. 

“Roman….”

“Solana, it’s for your protection.” Not even just her. Their unborn child as well. 

“My family is being mean and unsupportive, but they would never hurt me, Roman.” He can see the way she catches herself, forcing a correction. “Not physically, anyway.”

Roman wants to believe her. He truly does, but something feels off. He can’t put his hand on it. “Solana, I—”

“Trust me,” she interrupts in a small voice, her eyes pleading. “Please?” He does. Probably more than what defies logic. “I won’t be long, and it’s just my parents who want to meet and talk. Not my siblings. Not yet, at least.” That helps him feel a little better. Only a little. “Roman, I—I won’t be able to enjoy this trip without at least hearing them out.”

Roman takes a deep, loud breath, rolling his neck and stroking his beard. Going against his better judgment seems like the wrong move, but there’s something that bothers him more about depriving her of this. 

“Alright,” he finally caves, adding a stipulation. “An hour. You have an hour, and after that, I’m coming to get you.”

She nods. “Okay.” Solana leans up and kisses his cheek. “Thank you.”

Roman says nothing, just watches as she continues to pack, wanting to have it all done tonight, as they’re set to board the jet and fly out tomorrow. 

All the while, he still can’t manage to shake the feeling that something is wrong.

—--------

True to their word, it’s only Solana’s parents when she arrives at their house.

And, it’s not that she believed they were lying, per se. She just didn’t know if they thought she wouldn’t agree to come over if she knew it would be an intervention of sorts involving her siblings. 

They wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

Solana settles on her parents sofa, shifting to get comfortable as her father sits in his seat across from her. He’s yet to say anything. 

Nina wears a warm smile as she walks in from the kitchen with a tea kettle. “I made you some raspberry leaf tea.” She pours some in the mug sitting and waiting on the coffee table. “Your abuela used to make it for me when I was pregnant with you all.”

The mention of Solana’s late grandmother is enough in and of itself to evoke a set of fresh tears. 

Paloma would be turning over in her grave to know what’s happening within the family. She never liked or approved of dissension. Especially among family. 

Solana says nothing, just takes the cup and brings it to her mouth. The flavor feels a bit off than how she remembers it tasting, but her taste buds altogether have been off this pregnancy, so she doesn’t think much of it.

“Solana, we want to apologize to  you.”

Nina kicking off the conversation with that as she takes a seat next to her daughter is most definitely not how Solana predicted this whole thing kicking off. Naturally, she’s skeptical.

“What?”

Darnell’s deep voice takes over. “We feel….we feel we may have been too hard on you.” Solana continues to sip on her tea, eager, wanting, and maybe needing a reason to not respond. She’s not entirely sure what she expected from this conversation, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Oh,” she finally mumurs, nervously tapping her short acrylic nails against the glass mug.

“I’m sorry about how I spoke to you, Solana,” he apologizes. Solana places the mug down, wanting and needing to be fully present for whatever else he’s about to say. “I—I was out of line, and I was upset, but that gives me no excuse. It’s just….” He trails off, looking away, fist gently hitting his lap. “Of all our children, with all the issues your siblings have had over the years, we never would have suspected you.”

And, that is where Solana gets lost. 

Suspected what?

She voices as such. 

“I—I don’t understand.” She honestly, truly doesn’t. “What—what are you talking about?”

Darnell looks at her. Voice even and calm as all the outdoors. “We never would have suspected you also struggle with mental health issues.”

Solana’s eyes widen. 

What?

Barely able to process what’s just been implied, she finds herself scoffing. “I—” Solana looks between them, between her parents who have turned what she hoped would be a calm conversation into something entirely different. “You—you think I’m crazy?” The silence is all the answer needed. Solana shakes her head. “I’m not crazy. I’m in love. Why can’t you guys understand that?”

“Sweetie….” Nina leans over, placing her hands over Solana’s. “We—we realize now that we should have been paying closer attention to you over the years.” Solana blinks twice, suddenly struggling to focus on the conversation at hand. “That….that Zuri wasn’t the only one who needed help.”

It’s only when that is said, and Solana looks over at her father who only raises his chin, she realizes that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

A horrified look between the two people who swore to love and protect her. “What—what have you done?”

Solana goes to stand up, only to be hit with another unexpected wave that has her almost stumbling to the ground. 

“You’re not well, Solana. You need help.” Her father’s voice sounds much too distant for a man who’s only steps away from her. “And, we’re going to make sure you get it.”

Blinking increased, Solana again attempts to walk away, only to fall to her knees, her hand planted down on the rug to prevent her from landing on her stomach. A glance back at the table where the mug sits, mostly entirely consumed.

Terror fills her. 

“What—” Solana moves her other hand to her belly. Speech is now another thing that feels impaired. “What did you do to me? What—what did you put—” Eyes clenching shut, breathing has been added to the list, though she’d suspect it’s from her anxiety versus whatever was placed in the tea. “My baby….”

Because, that’s the only thing she can think about in this moment.

About whatever she’s just ingested could be doing to her baby.

She has to get out of here.

But, the second Solana attempts to move up to her feet, she falls to the floor, on her side, hand never leaving her belly.

Distant sounds around her followed by several sets of feet. Three new people. All men. Two dressed in all white apparel. Familiar. But not as familiar as the third man with them. Even with her waning vision, Solana can make out the man dressed in a fine suit, expensive glasses on his face, dark brown hair carefully styled, that empty, void, deranged expression in his eyes as he looks down at her with only cruel, unholy thoughts.

Crane.

Dr. Jonathan Crane.

A local doctor who bounced around from clinic to clinic for years, unable to find anyone willing to support his inhumane research. That was until a few years ago when he landed his current position. The lead psychiatrist at the local insane asylum.   

Rumors have ran rampant for years about his sick, twisted, unsanctioned treatment methods for the unwell at the asylum.

A place that should be burned to the ground, if you ask Solana.

With him in it, because the devil doesn’t always come clothed in red horns and a matching cape. He sometimes wears designer shoes and parades himself as a medical provider eager to “cure” the sick.

A sociopath.

He’s the real sociopath.

And, her parents are handing her right over to him.

Tears fill her eyes. “No…..”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Miller.” Another distant declaration from the devil himself followed by him kneeling before her, his smile just a show for all of his wicked, twisted perversions. “I know exactly what you need.”

Solana opens her mouth to protest, any and all sensation and autonomy in her body all but gone. 

A final act of protest, but it’s a failed effort.

It all goes dark. 

[linkons-most-wanted]

I like your Sylus analysis so much and adore our dragon with all my heart but I steel don't understand why he acted so mean towards mc in the n 109 zone in the beginning 😭 and also it feels like he tried to return his old mc because he loved her but not mc from main story line 😔

Thank you for this ask!! This was actually perfect timing since I was just getting back into working on my Sylus PoV for Long Awaited Revelry which gets into allll this. And of course I will yammer about it endlessly whenever given the chance--this ended up becoming an essay. 😅

Storytelling and genre choices

First, I feel like I need to address the sort of "meta" reason--that is, the storytelling reason. The simplest answer is... it's hot. 🙈 While I'd say Sylus x MC isn't dark enough for most dark romance connoisseurs, his character leans in that direction, so there's a bit of meanness for the fun of it. I'm happy to go into more detail on that--and how liking meanness/darker themes in romance fiction is NOT the same as wanting/deserving those things IRL--but I'll leave it there for now so this doesn't get too long.

So, all that said, good writing hides that meta-layer well by giving you a story you totally believe, and imo the writers for Sylus do a great job of selling it.

MC's curse really is a curse

The biggest thing that stands out to me is how Beyond Cloudfall leaves off. Sorceress MC is being a bit selfish and vindictive (and we love that for her). He's about to be able to go to eternal rest knowing that he managed to defy his fate to kill his beloved. Then Sorceress MC says, "you're about to leave me alone, so I'm going to make you suffer through this same loneliness." I think we can be confident that by the time Sylus is able to "manifest" again, Sorceress MC is gone. There's a theme in Beyond Cloudfall of "if you kill them, they can't suffer" so her keeping him alive to suffer is pretty explicitly intended. (It's a romantic sort of vindictiveness, of course, but it's still vindictive.)

So Sylus is searching the galaxy for her, dealing with this intense love and also intense bitterness, perhaps even hate. (There's the saying that the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. I really like playing with this idea of love and hate as two sides of the same coin with Sylus x mc.) All the years, all the boredom, all the loneliness, all the pain--she did that to him. On purpose. (It can be tempting to shy away from this, but imo the entire point of Sorceress MC is the power inherent in claiming our own dark desires and being honest about them. Another thing I could write a whole essay on.)

We now have canon confirmation that Sylus was in the N109 Zone by 2036, meaning that by the time they reconnect in 2049, he's been in the N109 Zone waiting for her for at least thirteen years, not to mention the years (or decades or centuries) as a space pirate before that.

When they do meet, Sylus tells her that she owes him "a curtain call grander than death itself". That is, he's not delighted that their reunion means he'll be happy again. He's bitter. He's over being immortal. She's his destined arch-nemesis and maybe she'll finally kill him properly this time. But of course, all those emotions collide with the fact that he still loves her, still cares about her, still on some level wants to treat her tenderly. And we see this conflict in his actions.

Adjusting to a different version of MC

I don't think it's quite right to say that Sylus doesn't love main-timeline MC and is trying to turn her into Sorceress MC. It's moreso that his love and history with Sorceress MC collides with the new reality of main-timeline MC. On some level, he expects to be able to step into their old dynamic, which is only natural. But the key things he loved about Sorceress MC are apparent immediately--her audacity, her stubbornness, her fire for life, her refusal to live by others' rules, etc.

The first thing Dragon Sylus says to MC in Beyond Cloudfall is "I like your eyes. They are beautiful… In them, I can see your hatred, defiance, and greed for life." So when she looks at him in the parlor, he sees all those things--her hatred for him (she thinks he's insane), her defiance of him (she refuses to cower and comply) and her greed for life (which sent her into the N109 Zone to claim her power, despite that being a suicide mission).

She is the same in all the ways that matter to him--and that's part of the problem. It intensifies the desire he has to get her to remember him, so he tramples over boundaries in an effort to recreate events from their past (using his eye to stir her greed for his power, having her shoot him being analogous to the sword, their antagonistic dynamic, etc).

But that being said, if all these things are being done out of love, why be so violent and demanding? That leads to the next point...

Sylus doesn't have "normal" friendship experience

The other key factor is that Sylus has not ever had a friendship or relationship with a "normal" person before. If people are brave enough to approach him, they're not going to be dissuaded by him being grumpy, pushy, caustic, etc. And, in fact, Sorceress MC meets him in this state and ends up falling for him anyway. So, as far as he's aware, she likes his forceful, demanding draconic ways. Being at each others' throats was part of how they fell for each other in the first place.

So, when they meet again, Sylus is probably assuming she's along for the ride. To him, her wanting to kill him is basically flirting. He's showing her all the traits she fell for before--but this MC has a very different early life. She wasn't shunned by society, she was raised by a loving adoptive parent. She has friends, a job, a purpose.

On some level, Sylus doesn't yet understand that it's a problem that MC is afraid of him, since that's how things started before. It's only when Philip tells him that she's disgusted or repulsed by him that he slams on the breaks. Teasing her, pushing her, making her angry--that's their dynamic. But for her to be disgusted? He suddenly realizes that there's a problem.

And, to his credit, we see him pivot and take that into account very quickly. He stops pushing the resonance issue. He figures out what she wants and helps her get it. Yes, he still tells her she needs to prove herself, which leads to my next point...

Why MC needs to prove herself

MC is stubbornly, stupidly insisting on inserting herself into the middle of an extremely dangerous place she's too naive to navigate. It's important to remember how very, very badly getting herself kidnapped into the N109 Zone could have gone. Philip says as much to her as well--and not because Sylus told him to. When Sylus gives her a hard time, wondering if he over-estimated her intellect, he's being blunt but not unfair. For example, she could not have dealt with the Wanderer attack at Elysium by herself, and she would have been up against that or worse if she'd made it any further by herself. As we see in other memories, she's terrible at lying and bluffing at this point.

Sylus has reason to be concerned that she's going to get herself captured or killed if he takes her to the Protocore Auction. It would be irresponsible of him to take her into that environment, where he can't be in two places at once, if she couldn't in some way hold her own. Captivating Moment (the myth) completes this arc where MC fully surprises Sylus and proves herself, and we get his iconic line, "With you here, I only need one plan." (That is, he can trust her and together they can overcome any obstacle.)

Zooming in on the parlor scene

In my opinion, most of Sylus's choices in Long Awaited Revelry can be understood vis-a-vis the above insights. But there's one specific decision that I think deserves a little bit more analysis--his decision to keep her under his mind control for those first 3 days when he's trying to force the resonance.

First off, I think it's meant to be very clear that he's using mind-control to keep her mostly unconscious in that time because there's some similar language in LAR to the Land of Lost anecdote when he's dealing with the Overlord. The writers are really intentional in their parallels, so I think we're being explicitly shown that he can and will keep someone in his thrall for a while.

But why? This requires more reading between the lines, though I'm fairly confident in my interpretation. I think Sylus's main two reasons for this choice are 1) he truly believes that if they resonate, she'll remember him and 2) he knows that if she sleeps normally, she'll have terrible nightmares, so the thrall state is intended as a mercy (like she does when he finally puts her in bed and has Luke and Kieran watch over her).

To Sylus--who is at his most impatient and demanding at the start of LAR--explaining himself is pointless if she won't believe him until he remembers. So, he's trying to take the most direct path. It's always worked for him before, after all. Maybe it'll even help jog her memory.

I really recommend watching closely his reaction in that parlor scene. He closes his eyes and focuses when they're trying to resonate. That little wisp of golden power is new--their previous attempts haven't yielded even that. Sorceress MC's power is depicted as that golden light, as is her soul--so touching that power would be achingly familiar. You see him hold her hand for a moment, feeling it again--but then he catches himself, dropping her hand. That power is so much weaker than it was before--that's why he stops trying to resonate and decides that the issue must be that something is blocking or suppressing her power, hence the trip to Philip at the Odd Workshop.

He's laser-focused on getting her to remember, sure that this will be the solution--until Philip informs him that he's actively repulsive to her. Sylus, who always thinks tens steps ahead, who always considers every contingency, suddenly realizes he's out of his depth. He's miscalculated. He realizes how selfish he's being--and this realization causes him to act differently. There's no doubt that Sylus made many mistakes in his early treatment of current-timeline MC, and yet his humility and decisiveness in changing his behavior shows strong character.

I think the most profound example of him changing course is that when they finally do resonate and she remembers more about him, instead of jumping on that and demanding more, he remains collected. Tells her it's not a big deal--it'll happen more. We see in Continuous Symphony also that he's waiting, he's hoping, but he's no longer pushing. And then in Razor's Dance, he's realizing that maybe her complaints aren't as flirtatious as he thought. Maybe this version of her doesn't want to be in his life. And so, without guilt-tripping or throwing a fit, he tells her clearly that he'll leave her alone if she wants to be left alone. And so she's truly given the choice of whether to continue the relationship or not. It's a poignant moment that, to me, fully sets right all his earlier mistakes and pushiness.

In conclusion

When they first reconnect, Sylus is dealing with the intensity of seeing her again, of her being the same in all the ways that matter, yet having her not remember him. That's painful enough, then add on his feelings of bitterness from the decades (or centuries) of waiting. No matter how mature or collected you are, that surge of emotion is enough to overwhelm anyone and cause them to not be their best self.

He expects his pushy behavior to be as endearing to her now as it was back then--after all, their whole thing was being true to their desires. He desperately hopes that resonating will restore her memory, and he remains laser focused on this goal to the detriment of their earlier relationship.

Sylus's love and essential maturity is revealed by how quickly and profoundly he course-corrects when Philip warns him that MC is repulsed by him. His personality doesn't change--he's still teasing, demanding, sly, smug, etc. (Which we love.) But he takes a big step back and focuses on helping MC get what she wants (the Aether Core) not taking from her what he wants (for her to remember him).

He realizes that asking this version of MC to remember their traumatic past together is too selfish, even for him. His initially mean and demanding behavior reveals just how badly he wants that connection--which makes his willingness to set that aside for MC even more profound. Ironically, we don't get to see the depth of his love without that indiscretion.

Sylus does a profoundly difficult thing--he grieves the loss of their past life together so that he can embrace this new reality with her--falling in love with the person she is now, the person she's become. The one that was quietly transplanted to a garden far away, but has still bloomed beautifully. 🥹

[naomijoestar]

heyy can i please request jobros reactions to their s/o doing on them that tiktok trend where the gf records their bf and tell him “if u make me laugh you’re getting some tonight” and as soon as the bf opens his mouth she bursts out laughing? (the reader being the gf recording and the jobros being the bf ofc)

Masterlist here <3

Hey anon! I’m sorry for making you wait so long, here is your request <3 I hope you like it, I’m not too sure about it so if you’d like anything specific added or fixed you can always private message me!

Mista version here <3

Characters: speedwagon, caeser, kakyoin, okuyasu, bucciarati, ermes, gyro

Jobros react to “if you make me laugh you’re getting some tonight”

Speedwagon

Speedwagon smirks the second you point the camera at him. “Alright, love, what’re you playin’ at this time?” he asks, leaning back with a grin. When you say, “If you make me laugh, you’re getting some tonight,” his eyes light up, and his smirk grows downright devilish

“Oh, you’ve set yourself up for failure, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing his hands together dramatically. “Let me tell ya—”

But before he can finish the sentence, you’re already giggling like a maniac, clutching your stomach and shaking the camera. He pauses mid-word, blinking at you. “What? I didn’t even start yet!”

When you finally manage to explain through your laughter that you wanted him to win, Speedwagon’s grin turns smug. “Oh, I see how it is,” he says, leaning in closer and lowering his voice. “Couldn’t resist me, huh? You know, you could’ve just skipped the game and told me straight-up.”

By the end of it, he’s tossing the camera aside (carefully) and pulling you into his lap, whispering with a playful tone, “You better not be teasin’ me, or I’ll be havin’ ya make all kinds of sounds all night.”

Caeser Zeppeli

The moment you say the words, Caesar’s lips curve into a self-assured smirk. “Oh, cara mia, you’ve made this far too easy for me,” he teases, leaning back and folding his arms like he’s already won

But as soon as he opens his mouth, you burst out laughing, your voice echoing in the room. Caesar freezes mid-word, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Wait, wait—what did I even say?” he demands, but you’re too busy giggling to respond

When you finally catch your breath and admit you wanted to laugh, his smirk returns, this time even cockier. “Ah, so that’s how it is, hmm? You just couldn’t wait to reward me.” He steps closer, tilting your chin up with a finger as his voice drops. “You didn’t need to pretend, amore. All you had to do was ask.”

He ends up backing you against the wall, his breath warm against your ear. “But since you insisted on playing games…” He trails off with a sly grin, leaving the rest of the night entirely up to your imagination

Noriaki Kakyoin

Kakyoin raises an eyebrow at your challenge, his usual calm demeanor not faltering one bit. “If I make you laugh, I get what tonight?” he asks, his lips twitching into a small, amused smile

When you nod and repeat yourself, he adjusts his glasses, clearly amused but trying to look serious. “Well, I suppose I’ll give it a try,” he says smoothly

As soon as he opens his mouth to say something witty, though, you’re already doubled over with laughter. He pauses, blinking at you in confusion. “I… didn’t even get to the punchline.”

When you explain your true intentions, Kakyoin’s cheeks flush slightly, but he quickly recovers, giving you a knowing smirk. “So that’s how you’re playing it, huh?” he says, stepping closer. “You didn’t need to go through all this trouble, you know. I’m more than happy to oblige.”

His hand brushes against your cheek, his voice dipping lower. “But if you wanted me that badly, you might have to make up for teasing me first.”

Okuyasu Nijimura

Okuyasu lights up like a kid on christmas the second you tell him the challenge. “Wait, for real?!” he exclaims, practically bouncing in place. “Man, this is gonna be the easiest thing I’ve ever done!”

He opens his mouth, probably to say something ridiculous or do some over-the-top impersonation, but you immediately burst out laughing, cutting him off. He freezes, his expression a mix of confusion and excitement. “Huh?! Did I win already?”

When you finally explain that you wanted to laugh, his face lights up even more. “Ohhh, I get it now!” He scratches the back of his neck, his grin turning a little bashful but still full of mischief. “Man, you’re somethin’ else, huh?”

Before you can respond, he’s pulling you into a tight kiss, his huge hands resting around your waist. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” he mumbles, though his playful tone is impossible to miss. “Now, c’mon, let’s not waste any time. You did say tonight, right?”

Bruno Bucciarati

“If I make you laugh, I get what?” he asks, raising a single brow. When you repeat yourself, his lips curve into a small, knowing smile

“Very well,” he says smoothly, leaning forward slightly as if preparing to deliver a line. But the moment he opens his mouth, you’re already laughing, your voice breaking into the quiet room

He stops, tilting his head in mild confusion. “I didn’t even say anything yet,” he remarks, though the corners of his mouth are twitching upward

When you explain that you laughed on purpose, Bruno hums softly, his smile turning into something more mischievous. “Ah, I see. So you were planning this all along.”

He steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly along your jawline. “If you wanted to skip to the reward, you could’ve just said so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “But now that I know how easily you laugh, maybe I’ll have to keep you smiling all night.”

Ermes Costello

Her expression shifts instantly to one of amused challenge, her lips curling into a confident smirk. “Oh, that’s how we’re playing it?” She steps closer, tilting her head slightly. “Baby, I don’t even need to try.”

The second she opens her mouth—probably about to say something cheeky or roast you—you burst out laughing, not even giving her a chance. Ermes freezes mid-word, blinking in surprise. “Hold on. That’s it? I didn’t even say anything!”

When you explain through your giggles that you laughed on purpose, her smirk deepens into something downright wicked. “Oh, so that’s how you’re gonna play it, huh?” she teases, stepping even closer until her face is just inches from yours. “You wanted to skip to the good part, didn’t you?”

Ermes grabs your phone, sets it aside without breaking eye contact, and cups your face in her hands, her tone dropping to a playful growl. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight. But next time? I’m gonna make you laugh for real before you get anything.”

With that, she gives you a teasing kiss, leaving you both grinning like idiots

Gyro Zeppeli

Gyro’s grin stretches across his face before you even finish explaining the rules. “Oh, you’re gonna regret this one,” he says, cracking his knuckles like he’s preparing for a showdown

But the second he opens his mouth—probably to say something absurd—you’re already howling with laughter, your camera shaking as you try to keep it steady. Gyro pauses, his expression falling into mock offense. “What? You didn’t even let me finish! I had golden material, and you ruined it!”

When you finally manage to tell him you laughed on purpose, his grin returns, wider and more smug than ever. “Oh, I see how it is,” he says, stepping closer and slipping the phone out of your hand. “You just wanted me all to yourself, huh?”

Before you can respond, he pulls you against him, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Next time, don’t even bother with the games. Just tell me what you want—and I’ll deliver.”

I hope you liked this! If you’d like anything tweaked or added don’t be shy to shoot me a message! :)

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[idrellegames]

Hello all! 

It is the start of a new year and I’m excited to announce Wayfarer’s new development plan. Unlike previous years, I will be doing quarterly roadmaps so I can be more transparent about how things are going and make adjustments should I fall behind. 

The goal for Q1 (January to March) is to finish the Episode 3 finale. This finale is important—it is not just the end of an episode, but the end of Act 1 and represents a major story shift. Some things will come to a head, some things will be resolved, and you will be left with many, many more questions. The final includes two versions that are split between a story consequence from Episode 2—whether the Wayfarer remained hired by the Order of Lethalis or were fired from their mission. These two versions are then split in two branches, for a total of four branches that lead into 3 separate endings. 

The Episode 3 finale has been in development since last summer, and I am hoping to pick up the pace with it and get it out of the drafting stage in the coming months. Should drafting go well, I will be able to code the new material starting in March. It is undecided as of now as to whether it will be added to the alpha build immediately after coding or not. Right now I don’t want to release the finale until everyone can play it regardless of their route (right now there are incomplete starting routes—if you are not on an Aeran or Veyer route, then you will not be able to play Episode 3), but this may change. 

Wayfarer’s roadmap is an estimated timeline and is subject to change. 

The State of the Episode 3 Alpha

right click for higher resolution

This is an overview of where the Episode 3 alpha is currently sitting. There is a lot of playable material with multiple intersecting sections dependent on previous choices, faction approval, and character approval.

As of January 2025, the Episode 3 alpha contains approximately 483,800 words of total playable content (the average play session is much shorter than that). 

Other stats include (for Prologue to Episode 3):

Average Word Count Per Playthrough: 193,900 words (approximate)

Average Playtime: 11 hours

Total Cumulative Word Count: 1,414,800 words (approximate) 

The build was last updated in July 2024. It is playable on my Patreon.

FAQs

—When will Episode 3 be finished?

There is no release date! The goal is for this year.

—When is the next public build update?

TBD. Episode 3 will not be released publicly until the Episode 4 alpha is finished. As I am still working on Episode 3, it will be a long wait. I will be doing some maintenance patches on the public build this year, but they will not be content updates.  

—It’s been over 2 years since Episode 2, why is it taking so long?

I’m a solo developer, so when I get sick or need to take off due to personal reasons, that is development time lost. Unfortunately, 2023 and 2024 were both unexpectedly difficult years and despite my best attempts to stay on track, delays happened. Wayfarer’s scope is very ambitious and I know this; I am making cuts where I can, but there is a balance between scaling down and losing the vision entirely. Wayfarer is built on the idea that your choices matter, and to make those choices meaningful and impactful takes time.  

—Is every episode going to take this long?

Nope! Episode 3 is unique in how all its threads come together. I certainly do not intend to take this long with following episodes.

—When will we meet the other companions (the characters on the cover art)?

Alexia, Ren, and Calla will be introduced in Episode 4 and 5. Nelani is introduced in Episode 6 and Felix in Episode 7, which marks the end of Game 1.     

Thank you so much for your continued support! Let's get this done. ❤️

~ Anna  Idrelle Games

[saksukei]

simon ‘ghost’ riley and his love languages

masterlist | i think i may have wrote too much??

there’s one thing lieutenant simon ghost riley knew when he began dating you. he had to be the best version of himself or at least try. you were the only person he met that he ever wanted to try for.

i. words of affirmation

initially, simon has trouble adjusting to calling you any pet names and just calls you by your name. it isn’t until he gets comfortable enough to say, “love” which is his go to nickname. he says them only in private though.

and then it’s nicknames galore. he calls you his sunshine because he literally adores your smile so much!!! the type to say, “i brought flowers for you. they needed sunshine and you were the obvious choice.” and he also says things like, “my darling angel” when you get him a cup of tea.

most importantly, if you ever do something that’s like daunting or difficult for you or if you learn something he’s gonna say “that’s my girl, always so intelligent.” if the two of you ever hit the gym together and you hit more reps than your regular ones, he’s gonna be so happy for you. “atta girl,” he kisses your cheek as he pats your back.

ii. gifts

he wasn’t very heavy on gift giving. that was until he saw something that he knew you’d like and bought it. and the smile that graced your face with the stars in your eyes made him want to do it more often.

and he felt his heart jump when he saw you cherish the letters he’d written when he was deployed. ever since then, he’s been leaving cute little notes for you, making handmade things you’d like such as bracelets, necklaces. he knows how to sew and he sewed a cute little shirt for you. this also brings me to the fact that he likes knitting a lot and loves making mug warmers? it’s endearing really. he can also carve wood apparently? so he makes sweet little decoration pieces for your apartment. (but also lumber jack simon making me insane)

all in all, he loves giving gifts. he’s the type to make a special notebook for just you and put pressed flowers on each page. “got you something you liked, darling.”

iii. acts of service

simon’s strongest way of expressing love is through acts of service. he’s a military man and a firm believer of ‘actions speak louder than words.’ i’ve said it before that his eye for detail is insane and he uses it in the relationship as well. alongside with his ability to literally commit you to memory, he remembers everything. (except birthdays, but he’ll remember yours).

from bending down to tie your shoelaces, to refilling snacks that he knows you like, to picking up heavy stuff, to guiding you with a hand on your waist, everything really!!! can read your facial expressions like it’s the only thing he knows and can immediately figured out what you like and don’t like. “you okay?”

and god, he's also aware of the sidewalk rule! never lets you walk on the outer side. the type to place a hand on corners and edges so that you don’t get hurt. he’s always looking out for you, ensuring you don't have anything in your way. he’ll always stand behind you because he feels it gives him a better chance to protect you.

iv. quality time

such a sucker for spending time with you but that’s mainly because he knows his is limited. and he would never risk not spending another minute with you. from watching movies, to watching you do make up in front of the vanity, to reading books together, training together, having tea. he finds your presence alone to be comforting. it's like you deal with all of his inner thoughts and reservations without even knowing it.

he also enjoyed doing mundane domestic tasks with you like getting groceries, setting up ikea furniture, cooking and cleaning together, honestly he loves it all. especially if there’s some jazz music playing in the background. i can absolutely imagine rubbing a little flour on simon’s face and he’ll get so offended, chasing you around the entire house, pining you down, just to do the same to you.

v. physical touch

simon is hesitant to become physically affectionate. that's not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it, it's just that when you’ve been met with violence all your life, gentleness is hardly something you expect.

but god, did he want to melt into a puddle when you held his hand or when you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. he swears he forgot how to breathe. and little by little, he got comfortable. hands hesitant to be on your waist, until that's the only place you found them, his head always nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “this might just be the favorite part of my day,” he says softly.

from lacing fingers, to kissing you the first thing in the morning, once simon’s comfortable, he won’t go a day without being intimate. “c’mere give me a kiss” to “you’re my good luck charm, love.”

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

-

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

-

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

-

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

-

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

-

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

[mortish-writes]

Don't mind me, I'll be playing with new fonts all week until I decide which one will win the competition for the new cover design. Well, actually I'll probably just put it to a poll. Anyway, I'm sure a lot of you have seen the rework breakdown on Patreon. You can follow for free and read it, I just won't be posting it here because it's a billion words. I do have a few things I forgot to add in the post that I'll mention below.

Serax Tweaks

Our dear Serax is getting a light attitude adjustment. In the current version he's a bit extra (I think I'm using that right) when compared to how I envisioned and drafted him. I might have prioritized fun banter over keeping him true to character. In the updated version, you'll notice a more reserved and calculating version of Serax. It won't be as easy to goad him into a verbal dual and when you do, it'll be a challenge to get the best of him. Serax is quite clever, witty, and cunning, and making him hot-headed/impulsive undermines those key aspects to his nature. That said, he will still be fun to needle and bicker with as he gets to know you better and open up, he just won't wear his boyish side on his sleeve. Part of the fun of building a relationship with him, especially if you're playing Fated Mates mode, will be getting him to open up and show you his playfulness.

I mentioned briefly that in Fated Mates mode you'll be able to develop an antagonistic relationship with him. It will be fairly intuitive, meaning you'll have to seek to provoke him in order to unlock this route. If you do so, take care to straddle the line between friendly antagonism and outright contempt. I'm not sidelining Serax's character development in the Fated Mates route, but if you make an enemy of him, heads will roll.

New Opener, Skintones, Hair, & Eye Colors

The body aspect of the story will be reworked. As I mentioned somewhere in the post (comments?) your story will begin waking up in Kalat on Night 1 with no memory of how you got there. Your memories will come back to you over the course of the prelude, with you defining your personality and backstory as you go. I think is a way better opening because it has you meeting the guys within the first ten passages, rather than having to relive your whole life before you get to the romance. Also, it opens the door for developing an initial sense of trust and comfort with the guys before you view them through the lens of a chaste vestal. If you're iffy/unsure how this will work, just hang tight, the new prelude will be available in a few days and I think you'll like it.

Shadewalker skintones will now be in The Nightborn Edition. If you choose these tones, the guys and the people you encounter in the story will treat you differently. With the guys, Valdricht will be particularly, um, gaze-y if you choose a shadewalker tone, while Serax will prefer human tones. These preferences will be minor, so don't feel compelled to choose a particular skin tone.

Cycle macro in action, no more clunky drop downs. I'll be editing those so that they're grammatically consistent, don't panic--

You will also have some more exotic drow-esque hair and eye colors. These will also be tracked and may change how you're perceived based on whether you choose human or shadewalker colors. Hair will have a minimal effect, mostly in the interest of not having to code too much. Eye color will mostly be something the guys remark upon.

My goal is to ensure that your body isn't just a blank slate. One of my favorite aspects of playing BG3 was initially playing as a tiefling, and then replaying as a drow and being blown away by how differently characters treated/responded to you. It was such a cool touch and really demonstrated how much thought the devs put into the game. I'm just one lady writing an IF, I won't have time to go crazy with accounting for every little thing, but I do intend to make sure your choices are meaningful and that when you replay with different characters it actually feels like you're a different person.

Fetishes

I've gotten a bunch of your Dark Maiden Mode fetish requests, keep on sending them. Just be sure to tick anon. I really like the ones that I've gotten so far and there hasn't been anything that makes me say "ew, what??" That's not a challenge, btw. A lot of them are things I already intended to add and others are things I was considering, so it's helpful to know where your heads are at. All of the ones I include will make sense for the characters and the setting. Largely, Dark Maiden Mode will be a submission/breed/dub-con storyline and we'll figure which fetishes can be neatly tailored into that sort of twisted tale. Do remember, it's still a romance, just one for a particular sort of reader.

[pixel7777]

The First Worshipper: Ch. 1

The naughty version of the beautiful artwork commissioned from the incredible misfitlunatic (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social) can be seen in all its glory here.

What if Astarion, grieving and haunted by the passage of time, became the first worshipper of the newly ascended God of Ambition, Gale, in a strange bid for connection, purpose, and perhaps just a little bit of chaos?

Story Completion: This work is fully written (~60K words) and mostly edited. I'll be posting at least 2 times a week, maybe more if the fancy strikes me.

Read below the break here or on AO3!

Work Content Tags: Post-Canon, Vampire Spawn Astarion, God of Ambition Gale, Immortality, Grief, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Endings (despite pretty much everyone dying), Explicit Sexual Content, Dual POV, 1st Person Astarion, 3rd Person Gale, Epistolary

Chapter 1

16 years "After Netherbrain" (AB)

[A letter written in elegant script on expensive parchment, waiting to be burned]

My dearest, most infuriating Tav,

I failed. Our little thief, our Mol—she's gone. Just like that. A knife in the dark, they tell me. Quick and clean, as though that's meant to be a comfort. She didn't suffer, they say. As if that makes it better. As if anything could make this better.

Where are you? You should be here. You should have been here to stop this. To warn her, guide her, protect her—all the things you were always better at than me. Instead, you left us. Left me to fumble through this alone, and look what happened. I didn't keep her safe. I couldn't...

Do you remember how you'd scold me for being overprotective? "Let her spread her wings," you'd say. "She needs to learn." Well, I did. I let her take over the Guild, let her play at being Nine Fingers' successor. I tried to trust in her abilities, just as you would have wanted. And now she's dead.

I should have locked her in that tower like I threatened. Should have forbidden her from the Guild entirely. Should have been the monster everyone already thought I was, if it meant keeping her alive. But I wanted to make you proud. Wanted to prove I could be the father she deserved.

I hate you for dying. I hate myself more for failing her. Our daughter deserved better than both of us—better than a dead hero and an immortal fool who couldn't save her.

The funeral's today. I don't know how to do this without you, Tav. I don't know how to say goodbye to our child alone.

Forever yours, even in my anger,

Astarion

* * *

I adjusted my black silk cravat, adorned with an obnoxiously large amethyst brooch, and swept my cloak back for maximum dramatic effect. The gathered mourners shifted uncomfortably in the grand hall of my estate.

"Friends, enemies, and those of you still unsure which category you fall into—we gather here today to honor our beloved Mol." I raised my arms skyward. "And what better way to commemorate her life than by dedicating it to our newest, most ambitious, and might I add, most absent deity?"

Karlach's jaw dropped. Shadowheart pressed her fingers to her temples.

"Oh great and powerful Gale, God of Ambition and Spectacular Fashion Failures, hear my prayer!" My voice echoed through the hall. "Your first and most devoted worshipper calls upon you to explain why you, in your infinite wisdom, allowed our precious Mol to die in an alley like a common cutpurse!"

"Astarion," Halsin warned, but I waved him off.

"What's wrong, old friend? Too busy rewriting the fabric of reality to notice one small death? Or perhaps you simply didn't care enough to intervene?" I spun in place, addressing the ceiling. "Come now, don't be shy. Surely the God of Ambition has something to say about this tragic waste of potential?"

The air crackled with divine energy, and Gale materialized in a flash of light, his expression thunderous. "This is not appropriate, Astarion."

Wyll muttered something that sounded like "here we go" while Lae'zel leaned forward with obvious interest.

"Isn't it?" I bared my fangs in what might have been a smile. "Then by all means, oh divine one, tell us what would be an appropriate response to your negligence."

Gale gathered his breath, but I wasn't done.  Not by a long shot.

"Oh mighty Gale," I drawled, prowling around him like a cat stalking prey. "Tell me, what offerings should I make to earn your divine intervention? Blood? Gold? My undying devotion?" I gestured to the gathered mourners. "Look at all these potential worshippers. Surely that's worth something."

Gale's divine aura flickered with frustration. "You know that's not how this works. The laws of—"

"The laws?" I laughed, the sound brittle as broken glass. "You're a god. What are laws to you? Or was that whole 'ambition' thing just for show?"

"Astarion—"

"No, no, let me finish my prayer." I dropped into an exaggerated bow. "Most illustrious deity, who watched our Mol grow from a street urchin to the finest thief in Baldur's Gate, who drank the wine she poured at Last Light Inn, who promised to keep an eye on her from on high at at her mother's funeral—where were you when she needed divine intervention?"

"I couldn't interfere." His voice carried the weight of celestial law. "Ao's restrictions—"

"Restrictions?" I spat the word like poison. "The great Gale, bound by restrictions? How disappointing. Perhaps we should find a more competent god to worship."

Divine energy crackled around him. "That's enough."

"Is it? Because I'm just getting started, old friend." I infused the last words with all the venom I'd been saving. "What good is having a personal god if he can't even save one little tiefling?"

"That's not how it works and you know it!" (Don't fucking tell me what I know.)

“You! You took her! And now you owe me, Gale. Personally.”

“I didn’t take Mol! She was mortal, Astarion. Mortality happens. It’s not some divine conspiracy!”

I waved dramatically at the crowd,“Oh, of course, just a coincidence that the only people I care about keep dying while you sit there glowing smugly in your celestial robes!”

Gale took in the crowd listening to all of this, and I gloated at his discomfort. Divine energy crackled around Gale, his celestial aura flaring with genuine anger. "You think I don't understand loss? I gave up everything I was! Everyone I loved looks at me like I'm a stranger wearing their friend's face!"

(Finally. There you are, old friend.)

"Oh, poor Gale," I sneered, circling closer. "Forced to become a god. How tragic." (Make it hurt. Make him feel it.)

"You're not the only one who's lost people, Astarion! You're not the only one who—"

"Do you know what it's like to have centuries stretching ahead of you, and the only thing you can count on is losing everyone? Do you? I stayed in Baldur's Gate for her. I could've left! I should've made them both leave with me! But no. She wanted to be here, and I—" My traitor voice cracked. "I stayed. And now she's gone. So yes, Gale, you owe me. You owe me this, you miserable excuse for a deity."

The divine light around him softened. (Don't. Don't you dare pity me.)

"Astarion." His voice carried centuries of understanding. "I'm here. I've always been here."

"Don't." (Please.)

"I know it's not enough. I know it will never be enough. But I'm not going anywhere."

I laughed, the sound raw and broken. "Until Ao decides you've broken too many rules and strips away your godhood."

"Then I'll be mortal again." He stepped closer, that insufferable compassion in his eyes. "And I'll still be here."

(Damn you, Gale. Damn you for knowing exactly what to say.)

"I hate you," I whispered, but there was no venom left in it.

"I know." He smiled, sad and gentle. "I know. You’re angry. You’re grieving. And, for what it’s worth, I am sorry."

Karlach's pointed cough broke through the tension. Right. We had an audience. How terribly gauche of me, letting genuine emotion slip through.

I smoothed my cravat, collecting myself. "Well. Since you did make the effort to show up, I suppose I can forgive your divine negligence." I waved a dismissive hand. "For now."

"Astarion—"

"On one condition." I raised a finger. "You must try harder at this whole godhood business. It's embarrassing, really. The God of Ambition should be more..." I gestured vaguely at his celestial form. "Ambitious."

Gale's divine aura flickered with what might have been relief. "I'll take that under advisement."

"Excellent!" I turned back to our gathered mourners with renewed theatrical vigor. "Ladies, gentlemen, and assorted creatures of questionable origin—in honor of our dear departed Mol, I hereby announce the founding of the First Church of Gale!"

"You what?" Gale's voice cracked in a most ungodly fashion.

"The Church of Gale," I repeated, savoring each word. "Dedicated to ambition, fashion disasters, and the memory of the finest thief Baldur's Gate has ever known. I think she'd appreciate the irony, don't you? Since it was ambition that took her in the end."

"You can't—"

"Oh, but I can. And I will." I flashed him my most dazzling smile. "After all, what's the point of being your first and most devoted worshipper if I can't cause a little chaos in your name?"

"And so, my darlings," I swept my arm in a grand arc, "let us remember my beloved daughter, my Mol, not as she died, but as she lived—clever, bold, and absolutely insufferable." A few chuckles rippled through the crowd. Good. She would have hated a somber farewell.

"She once told me that respect was overrated, but a good story was forever. So tonight, we'll gather at The Copper Crown—" I paused, savoring (hating) the moment. "Which, as of this morning, is officially mine. A gift from our dear departed troublemaker, who apparently thought it amusing to make me proprietor of a thieves' den."

More laughter now, genuine this time. Even Gale's divine aura flickered with something like approval.

"The first round is on the house," I announced, then added with a sharp smile, "Though I expect you all to drink enough top shelf to make me regret that particular generosity. It's what she would have wanted."

I turned to the ornate coffin, carved with the symbols of Mask that Mol had secretly worshipped. "Rest well, my little thief. Try not to pick too many celestial pockets." (Rob them blind, darling daughter.)

The mourners began filing out, heading toward the bar in the Lower City. I caught Gale's eye. "Don't disappear just yet, darling. You and I aren't finished."

He inclined his head, that infuriating divine patience still radiating from him. "I know."

"Splendid." I turned back to the ornate coffin, my hand brushing against the edge as if touching it could keep her closer for a moment longer. "Rest well, my little thief. The world is poorer without you, but the stars... they’re brighter now."

I straightened, adjusting my cravat as if donning armor. "Come, my darlings," he called to the remaining mourners. "Let us drink, lie, and fight in her memory. She'd want nothing less."

* * *

From within his divine avatar, Gale watched his old companions gather at their usual table in The Copper Crown. He hadn't intended to be here.  His business was no longer with these few friends.  He had a wider scope to learn to manage.  But Astarion was Astarion.

You always did know how to yank my chain.  It seems divinity has not lessened your pull on me.

Ao would not be pleased.  Yet, here he was.

The familiar weight of mortality hung over the mourners like a shroud, despite their attempts at cheer.

Halsin raised his glass. "To Mol."

"To Mol," they echoed.

Karlach leaned into Dammon, her new heart humming steadily. "The forge is doing well. We've been thinking..." She exchanged a look with her husband. "Maybe it's time to fill that empty room upstairs."

Lae'zel scoffed, but her eyes held warmth. "Your offspring will be fierce." She adjusted her armor, battle-worn from the Astral front. "Vlaakith's forces weaken. Soon, all will kneel to Orpheus."

The conversation drifted to the former Shadow-cursed lands.  Now known as Brightbough Vale, Jaheira and Halsin were proud of its prosperity and eager to share the newest developments, but Gale's attention fixed on Astarion. The vampire's fingers traced the outline of a vial in his pocket. His declaration of worship had been classic Astarion theatrics, yet beneath the performance lay raw desperation.

Gale recognized the maneuver for what it was: a challenge, a demand for divine intervention. For divine attention. Astarion was trying to force his hand, to draw him back into mortal affairs when he needed to focus on establishing his godhood.

Still, watching his friend's careful mask slip when he thought no one was looking stirred something in Gale's newly divine heart. Perhaps that was Astarion's real power – the ability to make even a god feel human again.

Gale watched Jaheira lean forward to draw Astarion into the conversation, her weathered hands curled around her cup. "What will you do next, Astarion? You could come to the Vale. We have room, and the children would benefit from your... unique perspective."

Oh, that won't work at all. He'd drive the initiates mad within a week.

Astarion's lips curved into that familiar, deflective smile. "Thank you, but I think I'll stay in the city. The Copper Crown needs attention, and someone has to keep these dregs in line." He gestured at the rowdy tavern crowd.

There it is. The lie wrapped in just enough truth to pass inspection.

Gale observed the subtle tells he'd learned over years of friendship – the way Astarion's fingers drummed against the table, how his gaze slid past direct eye contact a moment too soon.

"Running a tavern?" Jaheira's skepticism matched Gale's own. "That seems... beneath your usual ambitions."

"I'm tired of Patriar politics." Astarion shrugged. "Besides, the Lower City has its charms. More interesting characters, fewer tedious social obligations."

He's planning something. The bar's just a convenient excuse to stay in the city.

Gale wished he could pierce the veil of divinity and pull the answers directly from Astarion's mind, but even gods had their limitations. More than he had realized, if he was honest. He would have to do this the hard way, and it would be hard. Whatever Astarion was plotting, he'd wrap it in layers of half-truths and misdirection.

Just like old times, my friend. Though usually, I could be there to help untangle your schemes.

Gale watched Astarion deftly steer the conversation away from himself.

"Speaking of the Vale, how's that temple coming along, Shadowheart? Still insisting on putting up those gaudy moon symbols?"

Shadowheart's shoulders tensed. "Selûne's symbols are not gaudy."

As the others engaged in the theological debate Astarion had provoked, he caught Gale's attention with a slight tilt of his head toward a quiet corner. He produced a bottle of Baldurian brandy – Gale's old favorite – and poured two glasses.

"Come down here a moment, oh divine one. I have a theological question of my own."

Gale shifted his consciousness to join his friend. Strange, how the physical world felt both more and less real now.

Astarion swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Tell me something. Would Mol be like Tav? Turning down resurrection?" His voice carried none of its usual artifice. "Because I've tried. With Tav. Multiple times. But she won't..." He knocked back the drink. "Well. You know how she is. Was."

The raw honesty caught Gale off guard. In all their years of friendship, Astarion had never spoken of Tav's death so directly.

Gale weighed his next words carefully. The truth would hurt, but Astarion had earned honesty. "I see more than I used to, but souls... they're complex. Most who find peace resist returning."

"Ah. Annual attempts too frequent then?" Astarion's attempt at levity fell flat. "I should space them out more."

The admission struck Gale silent. He'd watched those desperate rituals from afar, unable to intervene. Each failure had carved new lines of grief into his friend's otherwise ageless face.

"Don't look so shocked. We both know you've been keeping tabs." Astarion's fingers tapped against his glass. "Though I suppose proper worship requires some transparency on my part."

"What are you planning, Astarion?"

"Nothing that requires divine intervention." Astarion refilled their glasses. "For now, could we just... sit? Like we used to?"

The pull of the celestial planes tugged at Gale's consciousness – duties, responsibilities, the weight of divinity demanding his attention. But across from him sat his oldest friend, mask finally lowered, asking for nothing more than company.

Gale settled his divine presence more firmly into the moment. "I suppose the pantheon can wait."

Astarion tilted his glass, a sharp grin cutting across his face. "To making gods wait."

Gale shook his head, a trace of amusement softening his features. "And vampires who never change."