#that i was seriously considering posting this anonymously

[flownwrong]

no tether (star trek: discovery fic)

Burnham/Rayner, rated M; tags: post s05e05 Mirrors, PWP, praise kink, ~3200 words

A/N: Fair warning: I'm not very familiar with Star Trek universe. I am here mainly through the misfortune of being obsessed with a certain Canadian actor. So if anything doesn't make sense — you know who to blame.

read on ao3

The hour is just about to turn from late into early when Michael finds him tucked into a narrow nook, in a hallway that's mostly deserted during all shifts.

He's sitting on the floor, tucked into the corner, one knee pulled up, a hand with a drink resting on it. Likely too wired to sleep, too suffocated in the solitude of his quarters. That's why she comes here, anyway. It's rare for them to be off the bridge at the same time; figures that they would end up in the same spot.

She approaches slowly, makes sure she doesn't creep up on him. Rayner doesn't move, eyes fixed on the floor, or, no—his profile is illuminated by soft bluish light. A screen, then.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the wall. "You wouldn't take the chair, but you'd steal my hiding spot, huh?"

"Good morning to you too, Captain." Rayner looks up and raises his glass in a toast. "Hiding spot?"

"Well, isn't that what you're here for?"

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Oh, I'm just catching up on my reading."

"Kellerun classics?"

His mouth lifts at one side, that quiet pleased almost-smile she never quite expects. "Terran, actually."

She leans down to see, raises her eyebrows. "Odyssey. You're full of surprises."

He shuts it down and shrugs. "A good book can save a life." He gives her a flash of a wink.

Michael laughs, caught off guard. He watches her and takes a sip of his drink.

She lowers herself to the floor and scoots until her back meets the opposite wall. The toes of their boots touch in the middle. He doesn't move away.

"So, what's keeping you up?"

"Could ask you the same question." Rayner's eyes are fixed on her face, intense, and for a second, she struggles for words.

"Nothing. Everything. All of this"—she waves her hand, trying to point it all out, the rest of the ship, the mission—"is new. Like nothing I've done before."

He huffs an approximation of a laugh. "You could say that." He doesn't sound nearly as bitter as before, and it's a relief she didn't know she craved.

Still, she's not sure where they stand on this, where the lines are drawn, here, huddled away when they should be sleeping. She clears her throat.

"The things I saw—in the time cycles, and today."

She tries to think of an explanation. Rayner keeps silent, waiting.

"The could have beens. They're hard to shut out."

He shrugs and looks up, out the viewport. "Yeah. Never did well with those."

"Neither have I." It's late, and they're both exhausted, and she's been through way too much weird to bother, so she nudges his boot with her own. "What are you going to do? After, I mean?"

He hums dismissively. "Does it matter?"

Yes, Michael wants to say, of course it does. I want to know what you're waiting for. I want to know if you'll stay. Instead, she says, "Oh? Nowhere you would go? Home?"

Rayner looks uncomfortable, hunches in on himself. When he speaks, his voice is low, like he hopes she won't hear. "Kind of supposed I'd go out before I go home."

She'd be taken aback, except it sounds exactly like him. "Just like that?"

He gives her a challenging look, a rare one that make his face unreadable. "Would you choose any different?"

Would she? He's thought about this, Michael realises, is used to the thought. She forgets, sometimes, how much older he is. Her thoughts are filled with hope, fear, longing—she hasn't chosen how she wants to go, not yet.

Still, there's something here he isn't sharing. She files it away, out of both curiosity and necessity, and reaches out to squeeze his knee. "I don't believe you."

"No?" His sharp features are tense, his cheeks hollowed like he's gritting his teeth.

"No. For one, it would take the heat death of the universe to put you down."

He snorts. "That's flattering."

She ignores him, goes on while she has an in, "But what I mean is that there's too much wonder in you, Rayner. You don't want to go down fighting. You're out here because you want this"—she nods at the stars—"to last." And there's something you left undone, she doesn't add.

He worries at his bottom lip, one of his minute tells. His eyelashes brush his cheeks, a startlingly gentle image.

Michael tilts her head, trying to catch his eye. "Am I wrong?"

Rayner's still for a moment, then shakes his head, lips a thin line, like it costs him. "No. You're not."

"Yeah." She strokes her thumb lightly across his knee. His skin feels feverish through the fabric of his uniform, and she remembers the Kellerun run hotter than humans. He looks down at her hand, swipes his eyes up, over her knees, her chest, shoulders. When he meets her gaze, very slowly, there's a quiet, almost sweet expectation in his look.

She clears her throat. "You haven't finished your drink."

"You want it?" His smile is soft.

She hums an agreement and reaches for his glass, less than a finger of light amber liquid left in it, and he passes it carefully, his fingertips brushing hers. She expects the drink to be acidic, sweet and excessive in all the ways something called citrus mash should be, since she heard the name about seventeen times today, but it's—wow, it's a whiskey. Strong, fragrant, with an aftertaste she can't place, a sharp burn.

She coughs. "Wow. This is good."

"Fair warning, this one kicks." He looks pleased at her surprise, his whole shape looser, waiting.

Michael shakes her head, showing him what feels like the tenth smile of the night. "Thanks for the heads-up. It's good."

"Yeah? There's more where that came from."

"Not the bar?"

"Oh, no. My quarters."

"Oh," she says, appreciative. "You have a bottle with you?"

"As I learned today, keeping a good bar can prove motivational," he says, dead serious.

"Very practical."

His eyes flicker down to her hands and back. "What can I say, I'm a practical guy."

She chuckles. "Yeah, you are."

They breathe in silence for a little while, just watching each other, and Michael knows it will have to be her call. And, oh—she wants it. Wants to not think about the clues, and failed relationships, and the bridge, wants to feel good and make someone feel good—and this is oddly uncomplicated. If there's anyone on this ship she can trust with this, it's Rayner.

"I could join you. For another glass, I mean." She counts down the steps. Three.

He gives her a hard, no-bullshit look. Waiting for her to cave. When all she does is look back, he says, "I suppose you could." Two.

They get up silently, in sync. It feels good, them on the same page, an already familiar hum, the only new thing in it the simmering anticipation.

One.

As soon as they clear his door, Rayner turns, blocking her way into the room. "Captain."

"Michael," she says. She won't do this in command, not to him, and not to herself.

He nods. "Michael. Do you actually want me to pour you a drink?"

An out, then. For her or for himself, though, she's not sure. She's halfway through a no, not really when he raises a hand, halting her words, staring her down. Fine.

"Yes," she offers, as firm as she can. "Later."

He watches her with narrowed eyes for a second, then turns to go in. She catches his wrist and tugs until he looks back at her. "This isn't part of your job," she says, wanting him to know—he must, but this isn't something she can afford to misjudge.

He barks out a laugh, looking genuinely amused. "That what you think of me?"

"Shush," she says, before he locks down and this whole thing breaks. He looks shocked at the word. "This is not part of your job."

She holds very still until he tugs his wrist free, his mouth twitching in an abortive smile. "Fine." He raises his chin, but his eyes are still laughing.

Rayner drops the empty glass onto a bedside table, dims the lights, disappears into the bathroom. She lingers back, takes it in. She expected his room to be stark, impersonal. It's not. Mostly dark, now that he's turned the warm lights down. There's a soft-looking blue throw, not Starfleet issue, over the bed that's tucked neatly against the wall. An unfamiliar vine with round purple leaves framing the viewport above. A bottle with two matching glasses in the cabinet on the far wall. It's sparse, but nothing like the ascetic box she'd imagined.

He walks back into the room, barefoot, and stops, a little awkward, two steps in front of the bed, not wanting to—presume? Michael realises just then she was hoping—once they got past the questions—for urgent, for tumble into the room, fall into bed, shut everything out sex, and barely manages not to laugh out loud. Good pick of a partner here, Burnham.

So she steps closer and looks up at him. He's tall enough that she's used to it, but up close it's a new feeling. He seems to be holding his breath when she raises her hands to his neck. She undoes his collar and keeps hold of it—she could probably drag him wherever she wants like this. He exhales on a laughter, like he's getting the joke, and folds himself down to sit on the bed.

"Here," she unzips his jacket, slides it down his shoulders, until he shrugs out of it. It's weird to be undressing someone wearing the same uniform. She wonders how long it's been since he wore anything but. She bares his soft undershirt, regulation, same as hers. He smells good, spicy, not unlike his drink. Getting to look down at him—she's struck by his angles, his pale shoulders almost narrow. Nothing like Book.

And here's the truth of it, isn't it? She could say she's getting it out of her system, a distraction from the one thing she can't have, and it wouldn't be a lie, but—she wants Rayner, here. He's sharp, and audacious, and oddly easy to provoke into uncertainty, and his eyes go warm and a little lost when someone—when she's proud of him.

So she reaches out, palm on his cheek, and he turns immediately to mouth at it, slow, eyes fluttering closed. It's dizzying. "Good," she says, has to say, and he shudders with it. She traces the edge of his ear with a finger, light, sees the start of a blush right at the tip. He leans into it. This, here. Michael wonders why he's doing this. What it is he's looking for, or trying to shut out.

His eyes still closed, Rayner opens his mouth to speak—and she drops her knee onto the bed, between his legs, warm and close. His eyes fly open, bright and stunned. She slides her hands back to cradle the base of his skull. The short buzz of his hair there is soft, silky.

"Okay," he says, and moves in, stretching up to press an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. She draws a sharp breath. Good instincts. He moves lower. Her clavicle. The dip between her breasts. She isn't guiding him. His lips are hot through the fabric covering her ribs, hotter on her belly. He goes to slide off the bed, to his knees, and she strokes the back of his neck, and doesn't let him. He scoffs—of course he does, and looks up with almost comical annoyance.

Michael scoffs right back. "You don't hold back in uniform—this is where you start?"

Rayner laughs then, full-on, a grin splitting his face. She's heard his annoyed laugh, incredulous laugh, hiding-something-important laugh. This one is a first. "Me on your knees for you is holding back?"

Blunt—there we go, blunt is familiar territory, and she raises her eyebrows at him. "Do what you want, not what you think I want, yeah?"

He watches her for a second, like he's considering the concept, then slowly, deliberately sits back, spreads his legs further.

"Good," she says again, presses her knee right where he's—yes, hard for it, and waits out his low, uneven moan.

"Come on," Michael says, shucks everything off until she's left in her top and underwear. He grabs at her blindly then, reaches her elbows, her waist, slides further up the bed and lies down, pulling her in. She climbs up after him, not quite straddling his hips, says, "come on, Rayner,do your part," and he rises just enough to match her, bare but for his uniform top and shorts, allows her hands to settle at his face again. She thumbs over his cheekbones, over the scar crossing his eyebrow, and he spreads his fingers over her lower back, pulls her down on a hard exhale.

She takes his hand and slides it right there between them, says "go ahead", has to grind down on his knuckles as he palms at himself, rocking up into his own hand, holds his face firmly until he's gasping with it. He's slick when she finally gets him out; bites off a curse when she slides down his body. He doesn't feel any different than what she knows—coarse grey hair at the base of a long, flushed cock; soft, vulnerable sack below it. There's so much heat under her touch when her fingers circle him, a vague reminder of his origin, and that's all she gets to file away before Rayner sinks his fingers in her hair, green light, going in now.

He's quiet and almost still as she takes him in, but that's to be expected, and she closes her eyes, goes slow, gets really into it for a while, until he sucks in a shaky breath, squeezes her neck and arches up hard, says "fuck", sharp and meaning it, and "please", and that's so mind-meltingly hot Michael moans around him and can't manage more than five seconds before coming up because she needs to see him, now.

Rayner's eyes are shut tight, teeth bared. His hands slip down her arms, shaky, his chest is moving with harsh, shallow breaths. "God, Rayner," she says, taking him in hand and pumping slowly, "you're—you're good, you're so good—" and he actually keens at that, an odd high sound.

"Stop," he says, "Michael," and she doesn't, and oh, to see what this costs him.

"What do you want?"

He gasps for breath for a moment, shakes his head. Michael sighs and stills her hand on him.

"Rayner. Look at me."

He makes a cut-off sound of frustration, almost a snarl, breathes in, and meets her eyes dead-on, clear and precise. "Fuck me."

She can't help her smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

She rolls over onto her back. His eyes are all pupil as he lands on his elbows above her, and she throws her legs around him, high on his waist, draws him in.

"Wait," he says, "let me," and strokes just the tips of his fingers under her top, watching her carefully.

"Yeah," she says, "it's alright," and he helps her take it off, nuzzles her neck, then down to her breasts. She feels him hard, leaking against her thigh, and she presses her heel sharply into his lower back until he thrusts against her with a gasp, slowly, and again, keeps it up as he kisses her nipples, her shoulder, the inside of her elbow. She groans, because fuck, he's honest about this, wanting her, wanting her approval, and she whispers, "hey, come here already," and then he's inside her, his hips rolling smoothly, stroking in, and she holds his shoulders, murmurs to him, "yeah, that's it, it's good, you feel good, come on," hears his breath hitch. He closes his eyes, and in the soft creamy glow in the room the planes of his face blur a little. His hair is damp at the roots, a soft white lock falling down against his forehead.

Michael rides his steady rhythm, closes her eyes, too, his long, heated body oddly malleable under her hands and heels, and then his breath is suddenly hot and close, and she looks up to see him unsure again, doesn't get it until his hand cups her cheek and he drops his head an inch closer, hovering, waiting for permission. Oh, God, he's so—Michael draws him into the kiss, soft and wet and scratchy with his beard, and he moans into it, sounding so relieved she has to kiss him harder, fists her hands in the back of his shirt and clenches around him until his hips snap forward harder, again and again, and then he's gone.

After—when he's stopped shivering, when he's finished her off with such care she didn't know what to do with it and kept her hands fisted in his hair, holding on—they lie next to each other, on their backs, for long, quiet minutes. It's peaceful. It's what she came here for.

The room is warmer than what Michael's used to. She thinks about dressing, then discards the idea, sits up and stretches instead. Rayner's eyes don't follow her.

"I'll take that drink now."

He snaps out of his daze and looks at her. "Oh. Um, that way." He nods in the general direction of the cabinet. She finally gets to see the bottle up close—thin, pearlescent material, the liquid inside almost sparkling as the light reflects off it.

She returns to the bed with her glass, sits down, hugging her knees. Rayner hasn't moved, watching her from where he's stretched on his back, hands behind his head, bare but for his shorts. She takes a drink and strokes his shoulder, lets herself look back.

There are scars on his body, paler against pale skin, more than he'd get on a ship—even in battles, even in decades. She doesn't know if he was hiding them, and if he was, why he'd show her now, after. He looks calm, steady, but his face is pale and tired, the lines around his mouth more pronounced.

She slides a hand into his damp hair, smoothes it back. "This time, do get some rest, okay?"

"Aye-aye." He catches her hand and kisses it. His long fingers circle her wrist, thumb stroking gently at the base of her palm.

Something sharp shifts in her throat, a fierce protectiveness. This, she knows, goes both ways.

She takes one more chance. "I'd like to keep you, after. As my number one."

Rayner frowns and lets her hand drop. "Let's see how this one goes first."

Michael sighs and shakes her head at him. "You don't have to swear to it. Just consider it." She gives his shoulder a parting squeeze and gets up to collect her clothes.

As she sits down on the edge of the bed to tug her boots back on, he puts a warm hand between her shoulder blades. "Thank you," he says to her back.

"And you." She raises her hand to her badge, but turns back to give him a smile, and, for once, he doesn't look trapped. "I'll see you on the bridge, Commander."

[burningcheese-merchant]

Hey Merchant! Brand new to the blog and I love it, but I was wondering your opinion on something. I’ve been noticing recently (especially on TikTok) people coming to a compromise in defending ShadowVanilla but/by antagonizing BurningCheese. They’ll say stuff like “SV has nuance but BC is just toxic” and while I can see that in a way, it doesn’t sit right with me. Again, just wondering how you feel about that (No hate to those people from me though).

Hypocrites. They're stupid, annoying hypocrites. Plain and simple. There's nothing to see except for that. It doesn't sit right because the chair is fucking busted dude, it's got 3 legs and two of them got mauled by termites and the rest got cobbled together by Patrick Star

If Golden Cheese was a man, BurningCheese would be just as popular as ShadowVanilla. It would have mountains of fanart on this dumb website and it would have a million fics on AO3 (400 and counting vs 40, yes I am bitter and disappointed, I'm only one person and there are only so many hours in a day I can't bridge that gap alone) and it would have hordes of dumb, horny fujos running interference for it 24/7 just like ShadowVanilla does. (And I specify GC being a man and not BS being a woman because let's all be real. Nobody cares about f/f ships. M/f and f/f are and will always be overshadowed by m/m whether any of us like it or not.) If they actually bothered to pay attention to the game, and to GC's and BS's characters and how they intertwine/compare/contrast, then they would see that their dynamic has equal weight and value. But they don't. And you know what? At least half of them didn't recognize the weight and value of ShadowVanilla, either, until episode 7 and 8 came out and the concept was directly spoonfed to them by the narrative. The OG ShadowVanilla fans went from rarepair hell to having their ship borderline gentrified, that's a whole separate tragedy honestly

You know what's blinding those people to BurningCheese? You know the truth? I'm going to explain better.

Burning Spice is a man and Golden Cheese is a woman. That automatically sets it back in the eyes of a lot of morons online. Hetero pairs bad. Also, BS hurt GC in the story, which is his literal job as a villain and all the Beasts do this, therefore misogyny abuse toxic blah blah blah. GC fought back and kicked his ass and never once tolerated any of his behavior but that doesn't matter I guess. Shadow Milk psychologically tortured Pure Vanilla and essentially mutilated him mentally/spiritually and turned him into a husk (Truthless Recluse). But that doesn't matter because gay = get out of jail free, also there's probably a dose of "lol men can't be abused or mistreated and anything bad that happens to a man is hot and/or deserved" underlining some people's thoughts let's not kid ourselves

Burning Spice is not a Tumblr Sexyman and Shadow Milk is. Shadow Milk is thin and nerdy and has multicolored hair and dresses like a literal and figurative clown and is kind of effeminate and is basically the final boss of all theater kids and is dramatic and charmingly evil and is confirmed to be about as physically tough as cooked pasta. Burning Spice is built like a brick shithouse and has to bend down to fit through a doorway and speaks in a rumbling baritone and is the "wrong" kind of evil (he is not suave or charming, he is all out bloodthirsty with zero dramatics or window dressing of any kind). Burning Spice is a traditionally masculine man and Shadow Milk is not. And the Tumblr I always thought I knew never liked men like BS, they like men like SM, and so far no one has done anything to prove me wrong. Tumblr Sexymen can do whatever they want and always be praised, regular sexy men can do the exact same shit and be condemned as toxic and abusive because they're perceived as threatening while Tumblr Sexymen are not

Burning Spice and Golden Cheese are not white/based on non-white cultures. They're both very dark-skinned, at that. Yes they are cookies not humans, but come the fuck on Burning Spice is literally Shiva but red instead of blue, certain cookies are obviously supposed to be certain races/ethnicities deal with it!! Skinny white boys have always been what Tumblr and TikTok girlies want, it's always been this way and always will be. Go look at the top pairings on AO3, 99% is yaoi with white dudes. (No you are not racist if you don't like BurningCheese, not liking a ship is not racist good Lord. Racism is a little bigger than that. I'm just pointing out a pattern)

I will say it until I'm as blue in the face as Shadow Milk is, I LOVE ShadowVanilla. I really do. I love them individually as characters and together as a pair, I love all the beautiful fanart, I love everyone's analyses of them, I love all the fantastic fics written by fantastic authors I will never in my fucking life measure up to I don't even know why I bother at this point, I do I do I do. But I am SICK of the hypocrisy. SICK OF IT. I am SICK of BurningCheese getting maligned while ShadowVanilla is celebrated in the same fucking breath. Look me in the eye and tell me SM is any fucking better than BS. Look me in the eye and tell me you'd still like ShadowVanilla if PV was a woman, instead of screeching about misogyny and abuse. I accept and love both ships for what they are and what they can be. If someone can't do that for whatever reason then fine, that's nobody's problem but theirs, it's shipping it doesn't actually matter do what you want, but don't try looking down your nose at others because "Fallen Hero/Heinous Villain Being Canonically Attracted To/Obsessed With Their Heroic Counterpart/Narrative Foil, Whom They Cannot Live Without Because They Are Actual, Literal Soulmates" is better than "Fallen Hero/Heinous Villain Being Canonically Attracted To/Obsessed With Their Heroic Counterpart/Narrative Foil, Whom They Cannot Live Without Because They Are Actual, Literal Soulmates" because ❓❓❓❓❓❓❓

I'm sorry Anon, I'm not mad at you. I'm happy to hear from you, I'm happy you took the time to reach out to me, I'm happy you like my blog and I hope you stay. I'll just be honest, I'm dealing with something genuinely awful in real life right now and I am not ok. I'm really not ok. I needed to yell at something stupid and ridiculous so I could pretend I'm not the utterly powerless creature I actually am, if only for a moment. I saw a punching bag in the shape of your ask and I started swinging. Worst part is I don't even feel any better, but I already typed all of this out so I might as well keep it

TL;DR: TikTok -> OPINION DISCARDED

[navree]

okay, i don't mean to bring up drama (i really don't want to 😓😓😓) but since you're one of the few non-crazy hotd-adjacent blogs i follow, i gotta ask...where did the whole #teamfeminism thing come from?

You're too sweet, thank you <3

It's basically what I call Team Black fans, because their whole justification for feeling morally superior is that they support Rhaenyra, the female claimant in the Dance. And yes, Rhaenyra's usurpation is steeped in misogyny, it is predicated on that favoritism towards male-dominated primogeniture in Westeros and the disbelief in the ability of a woman to rule at all, let alone her specifically, that's undeniable and a big part of the story as a whole and her arc specifically in the show. But it's hard for me to view fans supporting Rhaenyra for fictional queen as an inherently feminist act when that apparently also means absolutely no appreciation for any other female characters (they despise Alicent for having the audacity to be a forced child bride, and they clearly don't care about Laena at all) and uncritical support for Daemon the Rogue Literal Pedophile. And it's certainly not very Feminist to take your issues with fictional characters and start harassing actual real women, calling Olivia horrible names not just in general but also to her face, making fun of Phia Saban's looks under the guise of mocking Helaena (another female character they dislike because she's not Rhaenyra), being so nasty about the child actress playing Jaehaera that she had to be recast when her mom pulled her from production, saying vile shit about Sara Hess because you don't approve of her creative decisions, saying that Olivia was having an affair with Ryan Condal to get Alicent more screentime, and in general being incredibly nasty towards female Team Green/Alicent fans (and my personal favorite, implying that queer fans of Olivia Cooke aren't actually queer and just being performative, because what's more feminist than denying women's sexualities just to seem cool on Twitter dot com?). Like, pardon me but your feminism isn't really feminism, it's a performative activism where you claim that, because you support one female fictional character's claim to a fictional throne, you're a feminist and then proceed to be incredibly anti-feminist and misogynistic in your actual actions in your actual life against actual women.

So it's mostly just an irony/mockery thing from me, given that members of Team Feminism seem to be the most anti-feminist and in general anti-woman people in this entire family, except for when they decide they want Rhaenyra to win and say they like two character traits of her's (cuz it's not like they see Rhaenyra as a full character either, but shrug dot emoji).

[kunastrophic]

Please shut the hell up about your insecurities in the jjk tags we don’t gaf

again!! did not mean to add those tags !! just block me if it pisses you off that badly !! also clearly you do care 'cause if you didnt you wouldn't have felt the need to go out of your way to tell me to shut up so

[kandicon]

I keep seeing you taking about your fics may i enquire where you post such things?

Ah that's an interesting question.

I, uh, don't. Generally speaking.

Like rn the most my ao3 has is, like, 3 mlp short fics which I only posted because the mlp fandom has its own fanfic site and nobody reads mlp fic on ao3 because of that. And that's barely scratching the surface of all the fic I've written for mlp alone, which according to my writing doc, is currently sitting at a word count of 128k.

And with being in the mechanisms fandom I now currently have no irl friends who would be the ones to push me into posting my fic. Unfortunately the fics my irls have encouraged me to post in the past were on a separate, now deleted, blog (though this is the internet and I'm sure copies can still be found floating about because of reblogs).

I suppose I could try to work up the courage to publish some of my mechs stuff? If that's something people would be interested in?

[housewifebuck]

This pillow princess fic?

Will it be for Kinktober

Also what is a pillow princess

I dont adhere to deadlines well enough to participate in kinktober so probably not! And also um. Well you see. It’s uh. It’s. Um. Eddie

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Wraith wrecked havoc like no other.

He was loved and hated by the masses. Defended by Gotham regardless of what they felt of him. A figure in the underworld that hunted down those who moved to harm one of their kin and executed anyone who laid their hands in the weak—children.

The first explosion had been explained by the scattering papers and the anonymous posts of an organization who went after children with malicious intent. Blatant evidence that had people rallying to the GCPD to demand for justice. It was glorious and horrific—especially once they found out that it was Wraith who tossed the Joker into the harbor.

The Bats, by all means, attempt to find him. Figure him out, at least. But the man was a mystery. It was worse considering the majority of Gotham were eagerly telling the Bats to fuck off whenever they tried to hunt down Wraith. The only thing they ever got out of him was that his second in command—Phantom—was the nicer one between them. If you wanted civil negotiations, try and look for Phantom instead.

As much as they wanted to go directly to Wraith, this was their best shot. Their only shot.

"Had any luck finding Phantom?" Dick's hand rested on Tim's shoulder, trying to support his clearly tired brother. Tim was a little to determined, kinda desperate to find this guy.

"Nothing. Their names are trigger words." Tim clicked his tongue, "It's fucking up the system. Remember Ghostmaker's ghostnet? Any attempts makes you want to shut off your systems because of how encrypted they could get."

"Searching up their names gave the Batcomputer a virus?!" Steph gawked, leaning over Tim and staring at the computer. They could all tell he was wary, trying not to type in certain words to keep the damn tech sage from that mania.

"Wraith and Phantom are either metas with technology altering powers..." Barbara hums, "Or they have someone else doing this. Imagine them having their own version of the calculator... But worse and more annoying."

"So our new crime lord has a hacker... That has given the Batcomputer a virus." Dick slowly said, "And is still operating without us finding out."

"Hood and Robin are out trying to find Phantom." Barbara points to the two dots hurriedly moving through crime alley. "Hopefully they find him."

"Any news on Wraith?"

"His latest stint involved tearing down one of Black Mask's operations. Several bodies were found in the harbor."

"Why the harbor?"

"It's his MO, I think. It's always the harbor where he dumps the bodies."

Tim frowns, "Like it's his trash can.... For bodies."

"Hasn't the harbor always been the body trash can of Gotham?" Steph sighs, before turning away to stare at Cass who was training in the simulators again.

Dick glared at her for the comment but once again looked back to the screen.

"Hopefully they find Phantom soon... before Wraith drops more bodies."

Phantom was the nicer of the two—claimes by many people who told them Wraith was a little on the quieter side. No one truly knew but he was quieter than a lot of them.

Crime Alley was Red Hood's territory, everyone knew that. But apparently, Wraith has been operating in the same area from time to time. Mainly to return kids to the alley (freshly claimed by that flaiming white symbol). But Wraith did so quietly. They checked in from time to time to see if the kids were alright.

To be specific...

Phantom came to visit to see if the children they had returned and claimed were safe. Often coming with resources that he mainly reserved for the kids.

"Found him." Jason muttered, voice distorted through the modulator as he narrowed his eyes at the young man dressed in monochrome colors. His binoculars zeroed on the young man with white (seriously??) boots and gloves. The rest of his outfit was black, with a jacket still in monochrome colors. Jason frowned at the hood that covered his head.

"Let's go, Hood. Nightwing and father wants—"

"Stay out of it, Robin." Hood instantly growled. Jason has never felt so territorial before but this guy was in his territory—doing good, keeping the kids safe, marking them so no one tried going after them. "Phantom is Wraith's lieutenant. We don't need to make an enemy of the nicer one and piss of the one who ordered the explosion."

"I can handle him!"

"You'll piss him off!"

Robin scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you won't? Phantom clearly is fond of children and I am a child—"

"With katanas. You're a murderous child. Wraith and Phantom claim children who are in danger. Not the danger." Jason scoffed, while Damian opted to look utterly smug at the statement.

"Stay here." Jason drops down from the building.

He, unfortunately, didn't account for Phantom pulling out a sword from nowhere and immediately pointing it at Jason. The kids behind the man were quick hide behind him, cowering in fear until the recognition sets in their eyes.

"Wait! That's the Red Hood!" A girl yells, standing between them. Stupid but very brave. "He's one of the good ones!"

Phantom, who wore a mask that covered half his face yet showed his eyes, immediately lowered his sword once the girl was between them.

Jason froze, unable to tear his gaze away from Lazarus eyes—no... That shade of green was much purer than the pits... Phantom narrowed his eyes at Jason, before turning back to the girl. "You go and take care of your little sister, yeah? If your mom forgets to feed you again, tell her I'll give her a visit."

The girl nods, but she whirled around and gave Jason the nastiest glare an 8-year-old could give. "You hurt mr. Phantom and I'll tell Wraith!" She pointed an accusing finger at him, frowning before she gives Phantom a quick hug and makes a run for it with the other kids.

Soon enough, they're left alone... Staring at one another.

"I was wondering when one of you Bats would finally find me." Phantom hums, sliding his hand over the hilt of his sword.

Jason warily watched it disappear from sight. Okay. Possible meta, definitely has powers. "You're a hard man to find, Phantom."

"Not for you, I guess. I come and go into your haunt to check in on the kids every week." Phantom laughs, tilting his head.

Jason could see snow white hair from under the hood, making him shudder as the deathly green eyes are brought back to his attention.

"Every week, huh?" Jason clicked his tongue. "I'll cut to the chase. Your boss's stint—" he swore that Phantom twitched "—pissed of the big Bat. He ain't happy tnag Wraith is bombing up buildings and killing people."

Phantom visibly rolled his eyes, "Too bad then. Wraith's pretty direct when it comes to this shit. Trafficking and pimping kids make him murderous but the fact that those bastards were killing them and selling their organs? He's damn genocidal at this point. Can't say I disagree with that."

Jason... Well... Jason can't argue with that. If he found out that some bastards were doing that to kids, he'd go ballistic too. But Bruce didn't agree with these methods and was rather reproachful about it. But Wraith wasn't going to back down. This wasn't a normal rogue that had felt fear of the Batman and his brood before. To be honest, Jason thinks he's pretty ballsy.

"I don't disagree with that shit either. But Batman ain't going to let him off the hook after that stunt." Jason warned, grunting as he spoke through the modulator. The pits were flaring up again. But not malicious, not murderous. It was curious as it warmed his chest and practically urged him to get closer to Phantom.

"Yes, well... Piece of advice—Wraith is willing to blow up an entire district if it meant keeping others safe. And besides, your rogues know not to mess with him. Not after the Joker." He didn't actually see Phantom's face but he's pretty sure that the bastard was grinning.

"So he really did it."

"If it makes you feel any better, the Joker might as well be cursing him from the afterlife. It was an accident." Phantom shrugged.

An accident, Jason breathed out. Holy fuck, that would have been humiliating for the Joker. His death. An accident. Unintentional and he still died, his body dumped into the harbor.

"Anyways, tell Batsy not to mess with the kids. I know he doesn't, but he let the Joker live, so..." Phantom gave him a thumbs up, "Make sure to not cross pass with Wraith or else you'll end up in the harbor."

Jason gawked, watching as Phantom slipped into the shadows and promptly disappeared. Meta. Definitely a meta.

"Hood, report." Batman's voice rang through the comms.

"Red Hood," he grunts, "Wraith sure as hell doesn't like you, old man. And Phantom might be the nice one but he might as well be as stabby as Robin."

"I agree with Hood. He has wonderful posture, father!" Robin spoke, sounding impressed and smug.

The little shit.

"Technus, stop bullying Oracle." Dan groaned once he caught the ghost tampering with the net... Again.

The crime lord turned towards Danny, who melted out of the shadows again. Technus was blabbering about pesky bats and birds before Dante clocked his younger brother's apprehension. He looked....annoyed and concerned.

"I talked to Red Hood."

"YOU WHAT?!"

"Fun fact! He's a revenant!"

"THE FUCK YOU MEAN THE OTHER CRIME LORD IS A REVENAN?!"

"A very sexy looking one."

He was going to punch Danny. He was going to fucking punch Danny.

(Danny was not punched.)

"He said that Batman's pissy about you blowing up shit." Danny shrugged, shaking his head before floating over to the energy drinks and coffees by Dan's desk. "Good news though! I told him he'd end up in the harbor if he ever tried anything with us."

Dan gawked, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You want to make the bats our enemies?"

"No! I'm commiting to our crime family bit!"

"We're not a crime family!"

"Tell that to Ellie. She's already got herself a new suit and everything."

Dan threw his hands up in the air, groaning at the insanity that was his younger siblings. Dear ancients, he was praying that Jazz wouldn't find out about the shit they've done in Gotham. She'd give them the worst tongue lashing the world has ever experienced if she did. Thank God she was in Yale right now.

"Ooh! A crime family, you say?" Technus grinned, floating closer to Danny who lounged in Dan's chair. (Get the fuck away from my crime lord throne, Danny! The leather is expensive!)

"That is perfect! The others have decided to migrate here, did you know? It's been quite... Boring back in Amity." Technus snickered.

Fuck. No.

"I bet my trust from Vlad that Johnny, Kitty, and Ember are already on their way." Danny cackled, "That'd be nice. Elle's been itching to steal Johnny's bike again."

"Splendid! We shall wreck havoc upon Gotham and exact justice that the Bats cannot give the people!" And like a supervillain, Danny cackled as he stood on Dan's desk, laughing maniacally.

(Just outside, the Wraith's goons peaked into the room and saw the insanity that was the nice lieutenant's villainy.)

Meanwhile, in the distance, the laughter of Johnny 13 and Kitty rang through the streets of Gotham.

Part 3 | Masterpost

[norrisainz33]

bubble || LN4

☆ summary: internet sleuths find out that lando norris has been flirting with and potentially dating a relatively unknown singer

☆ pairing: lando norris x singer!reader

☆ fc & warnings: zinadelphia & slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: nope!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 18,345 others

f1gossip: it’s been brought to our attention by an anonymous user that our lando norris has been caught seemingly flirting in the comment sections (for at least the past 24 weeks based off the time stamps) with a small american artist, y/n y/l/n. he’s the only driver that follows her and has been consistently in her comment section hyping her up and calling her things like “gorgeous”, “talented” and “pretty.” what do you all make of this?

view all 653 comments

user1: oh my god lando????

user14: i’ve never once heard of this girl?

user2: how did we not know about this for the past 24 weeks guys wtf

user4: no like seriously…. seems like something we should have known already

user3: wait her music is really good tho 🥹

user7: her song mirrorball??? the girl has some vocals wow

user4: just looked her up and she’s beautiful… i see what he’s seeing

yourbff: screaming my head off at this

user1: and who are you??? do you know y/n??

f1gossip: check your dms yourbff

user5: she’s using him for fame!

user4: considering we all just found out about her…. imma go ahead and say no she’s not

user6: now how do i make this about me 🙂‍↔️

ynuser has added to their story

view all story the replies

user1: ooooo orange or papaya ???

yourbff: girl you fueling the flames with this post 😂💀

ynuser: HAHA i know… i got 24k new followers in the past 2 days since you sent me that post by f1gossip and figured id have some fun with it since there’s no hiding now

yourbff: who knew meeting that guy randomly in europe 6 months ago was going to turn out like this

ynuser: certainly not me girl. remember when i thought he was some weirdo who was just trying to hit on me in the bar??

yourbff: bc he had no rizz but max and p really swooped in and saved him and now look at you 🥹

ynuser: my perfect little no rizz baby boy 🥹 love of my life 🤭

landonorris: it’s papaya baby

ynuser: i couldn’t be too obvious now could i?

landonorris: nah go on then be obvious

ynuser: oh you want me to post you?

landonorris: yeah specifically that one pic you took of us in the mirror last night

ynuser: LANDO that is for OUR eyes only

landonorris: right yes

landonorris: i still think you should post me

ynuser: i don’t know if i want to burst our little bubble yet

landonorris: fair enough baby. you just tell me when! i’ve got paddock passes, pictures, plane tickets — everything lined up for when you’re ready

ynuser: 🥹😭 vegas? we go on our little vacation after im done my tour and you’re done in brazil and then pop the bubble?

landonorris: sounds great to me gorgeous but seriously no pressure

user2: my delusions are working over time

maxfewtrell: i’m trying so hard to defend your privacy and this is what you post

ynuser: what’s wrong with the color orange?

maxfewtrell: y/n

user3: ain’t ever seen you and lando in the same room but i somehow know yall doing it

user4: you’re so pretty and your outfits eat so hard wtf 😭

user9: praying this is a new song lyric idk who these new fans are talking about lando this lando that …. i need a new song

ynuser has made a post

liked by youbff, yourfriend2, yoursibling, landonorris, maxfewtrell, ynupdates, and 54,235 others

ynuser: baby’s first headlining tour was a success! thank you to everyone who came out and sang along with me every night. i love you all dearly 🤍 and for all the newbies here, welcome 🫶🏻

view all 324 comments

user1: oh she’s so cute

user2: starting a y/n fan club rn yall

yourbff: you are making those dreams come true bb girl

ynuser: trying to 🥹

yoursibling: cutie patootie i love you

ynuser: i love you more

user23: the peoples most beautiful princess 🤍

user9: who are all you new people here

user2: lando norris fans. who are you?

user9: a y/n y/l/n fan. who is lando norris?

user2: a formula 1 driver!

user9: race cars?? i did not expect that…

user8: taking note of lando and max in the likes

user4: also taking note of their lack of a comment…. lando has commented on every single one of her posts before the f1gossip post dropped

user16: i was there last night!!! best show ever!!! love you y/n

user19: i’m obsessed with those cherry earrings

landonorris has made a post

liked by maxfewtrell, quadrant, mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, ynuser, alex_albon23, and 823,104 others

landonorris: a much needed break. vegas here we come baby

view all 743 comments

user1: i don’t know where to look ,, at the wh*re in the first pic or the soft launch in the second my god 😮‍💨😍😭😔💀

user9: ok user2… i get it now. also i’ve seen those white shoes in y/n’s posts before it’s def her

user2: omg you’re an icon for this

ynuser: dmn y’all really can identify me by my shoes?

user9: YN WHAT ARE YOU SOING HERE IM SORRY

user2: y/nlando confirmed

maxfewtrell: interesting choice of photos mate

landonorris: thanks! picked them myself

maxfewtrell: yeah clearly

pietra.pilao: 🤍

landonorris: 🧡

user2: i’m speechless

user55: hey lando idk if u heard but there’s a lookalike contest happening in my room tonight. $59 cash prize

oscarpiastri: those aren’t max’s legs 👀

landonorris: you’d be correct

user12: this is monumental

user18: my favorite sinister, evil and orange little gremlin

user14: you’re gonna cook in vegas king

ynuser had posted to her story

view all story replies

yourbff: this dress is eating in a way i didn’t think it would. i’m sorry for doubting you

ynuser: never doubt me ���

lilyzneimer: had so much fun meeting you at dinner this evening!!! looking forward to spending the weekend with you at mclaren 🫶🏻

ynuser: omg it was so fun getting dinner with you and oscar!! i’m so so so glad to have you as a buddy in the paddock. i was super nervous about it all

lilyzneimer: it can be very overwhelming at times but we’ve got you y/n!!

ynuser: that means so much to me 🥹

user9: mother is mothering … in vegas?????

user12: are you in vegas per chance?! for the formula 1 grand prix?! for lando norris?!

user2: i fr need style tips and grwm’s from you y/n. every time you post an outfit it moves me

landonorris: in my hotel room 😈

ynuser: you got it ☝🏻 now hurry up and get back here

landonorris: trust me im hurrying

user8: i need someone to get you on a magazine cover stat

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 19,231 others

f1gossip: confirmed! y/n y/l/n, singer songwriter, is in las vegas with lando norris for the las vegas gp. this seems to be their first official weekend out together

view all 327 comments

user2: as someone who has been deeply invested since the beginning (3 weeks ago).. this is everything

user9: my girl 🥹

user10: i truly wonder how in the world they even met… they’re such an interesting pair

user18: mclaren admin please ask him this weekend

user13: that should be me 😭

user24: ok wait guys im at the gp and y/n was walking through the paddock with lily and we waved her down because we had made some lando merch and she was honestly so sweet and stopped and took photos with us and chatted for way longer than she needed to. i truly hope she never changes she’s an angel

user21: this is so wholesome

user23: i fear she’s on track to become the people’s paddock princess in record time

user18: i have no one to send this to who will get it

mclaren has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynuser, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourbff, and 432,444 others

mclaren: this weekends most requested interview just dropped! make sure to check out the full thing over on the mclaren app 🟠

view all 329 comments

user18: mclaren admin is a y/nlando girly confirmed

maxfewtrell: he’s leaving out the bit where i had to save him from completely bombing

landonorris: 😔 you’re not gonna let me live that down huh

ynuser: idk what would have happened if max didn’t come over and stop you from explaining why you hate fish so passionately

landonorris: babe please not on the public instagram

user2: lando norizz strikes again

landonorris: love when i get asked good questions like this!

user4: king said if one more person asks me abt wdc im gonna lose it. ask me abt y/n instead

user9: this is making it incredibly hard to gatekeep y/n

ynuser: that’s my man 🙂‍↔️

landonorris: damn right it is

user13: the mutual do you know who i am is lowkey so funny

landonorris has made a post

liked by mclaren, ynuser, yourbff, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 843,238

landonorris: thanks for being nice to me this time vegas!! oh and thanks for coming y/n 😈🏆

view all 854 comments

user12: i’m so proud of you lando

user9: wahooooo first race i watched and you won. i think me and y/n are good luck for you

mclaren: incredible drive lando! that’s our winner!!

ynuser: something about seeing you on that podium 😮‍💨

landonorris: oh you like that?

ynuser: yes 🤭

landonorris: alright podium finishes only from now on 😏

user19: oh you two are freaks i just know it

ln4: LFGGGGG

user13: congrats on the win and the hot gf 😭

carlossainz55: congrats lando!! and hi y/n!

ynuser: hi carlos 🤍

maxfewtrell: much better post mate

landonorris: why thank you. i worked hard on this one

user2: a win and a hard launch = double win for me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[doomedmoth]

Three’s a crowd

Pairing : Poly and bisexual fem!reader | reader x alexandra saint mleux x charles lerclerc

Warnings : use of y/n, polyamory, fluff, very light angst, request, not much more tbh

Synopsis : Request : Could you write a poly fic about Charles, Alexandra and Y/N ? Everyone is celebrating Charles’ brand LEC but since Charles and Alex are the public couple (for Ferrari PR etc), Y/N can’t do anything. She’s starting to feel left out because of it since they’re going out and celebrating without her, they keep leaving her out and forgetting important dates (her birthday or smthg). Happy ending please !

Moth’s prophecy💡: Thank you to the anonymous cryptid for the request, I tweaked it a bit but still kept the main plot, and I hope you and the other poly enjoyers will like it ! Thanks again for the support and great ideas !

“Okay one… two… three… and posted !” You threw yourself in Charles’ arms as he clicked on the button and threw his phone away immediately, catching both you and Alex in a cuddle.

“You did it !” Alexandra pinched at his cheeks and you ruffled his hair, hands trembling with excitement.

Finally his ice-cream brand, Lec, was out, the main announcement posted on Instagram. The end of countless sleepless nights and never ending zoom calls, meetings at the worst time possible, and secrets to keep. Of course, now the promotion would be another handful, but at least the three of you would deal with it together. And you had always been pretty good at supporting your lovers.

You got into a more comfortable position on Charles’ lap, head resting against his, as Alexandra had gotten up and started her, as she called it, “happy dance”, which consisted mostly in jumping in circles screaming until she got dizzy. As you snorted, Alexandra very clearly loosing balance, Charles took your hand in his, softly rubbing it with his fingers.

“Thank you… I know it hasn’t been easy to deal with this on top of the races and everything… You’ve been amazing. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You could not help a smirk from coming up your lips, and thought this was the time to charge again.

“I know how you can repay me…” You straddled him, and as he did his best to appear confident and in charge, his blush betrayed his shyness. Alex had stopped spinning, seemingly much more interested in what was taking place on the couch. “Maybe you could…” You got closer to him, and peppered his neck with kisses until you got to his ear, in which you whispered as seductively as you could. “Maybe you could get me a dog ?”

He immediately rolled his eyes and playfully pushed you away as you laughed at his bright red cheeks. You had dreamt of having your own dog for so long, specifically a longhaired dachshund, and both Alex and Charles had said no multiple times. Charles’ arguments were mainly that he was away too often to properly care for it, and your girlfriend, who called the breed “hairy sausages”, argued she would have to deal with all the responsibilities of it because both yours and Charles’ works took a lot of time. And though she actually found dogs very cute, she did not have an interest big enough for them to manage her schedule around one.

You had pleaded to Lewis to use Roscoe to convince them, managed to go partly remote with your job, and flooded their messages with videos of dogs almost daily. At this point, you were seriously considering getting one in secret just to see how long it would take for them to realize, and then argue it is too late to give it back.

“Sure.” What ? You sat straight up on Charles as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn’t have heard well. You turned to Alex, who shrugged.

“I can’t deal with seeing you cry over reels anymore, and Mimi’s pretty cute.” She gave you a warm smile. Mimi was your friend’s dog, the one who got you into dachshund in the first place.

“You’re not serious, are you ? You’re just in a good mood. You’re joking.” Charles actually laughed, and you thought your heart wouldn’t be able to handle a prank.

“Promis juré ma princesse. Why not, you want one, you can take care of it, who am I to deny you ? Let’s get you a dog.”

No matter how well isolated was your apartment, you thought you would be lucky if no neighbors came to complain tomorrow. There was a lot to celebrate for one night.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really need you to give Leo back, we’re going to take pictures…” Searching desperately for support in Alex’s eyes, you felt sick when you saw her staring at the ground. You were so shaken you let the event coordinator take the puppy from your arms and give him to Alexandra, who sheepishly turned her back to you and walked towards the press wall.

Charles himself was nowhere and everywhere at once, it was no use trying to get him to advocate for you. Too stressed by the beginning of the racing season combined with the launching events for Lec, he had mindlessly agreed to most of his agent’s suggestions, including playing what the Ferrari PR team had called “happy family”. Following the announcement of Carlos’ replacement, they needed good news to balance, and thought emphasizing Charles’ couple and furry kid would pull at a few heartstrings. But in their good Italian traditional beliefs, there was no place for a third, and since you had always been more busy, and therefore more discreet, than Alexandra, the cut had been made. They were to be the hit couple for a while, in a vain but admittedly successful attempt at calming the fans.

You had had little to no say, Charles having always been your voice in those kinds of businesses, and Alexandra being media trained to perfection. You thought back on your promises, on your dedication to be supportive of them, and decided the best thing to do would be to go get some air. It wasn’t as if you would be missed anyway.

As you stepped on one of the secluded balconies, the cold breeze of the night came to slap your face, and without anyone’s arms or jacket to comfort you, you suddenly felt very lonely. The evening had dragged on enough, you just wanted to go home. Debating between taking a cab or waiting for your lovers, you took out your phone, only to be flooded by notifications from your socials. You barely used them, so had no idea why they would be so active all of a sudden.

Both Instagram and Twitter greeted you with the same pictures taken either by fans or paparazzis. You shopping with Carlos’s girlfriend, Leo trotting happily by your side, as well as another few at a restaurant with friends, where Leo was sleeping on your lap while Charles and Alex were somewhere in the background, probably discussing going dancing after. The usual. But this time, all the comments seemed to agree on one thing. The dog wasn’t yours.

“Did they lend her the dog for the day ?”. “Leo’s godmother.” “Is she gonna be the babysitter while they’re gone ?” “Me when my friends get a baby”.

You three had always been private, but not secret. People made their own opinions anyway, and you did not care much about polishing a public persona. You did not use socials, Alex had private accounts, and Charles’ were managed by his PR team. In the end, even though you had dated Alexandra since high school, and Charles for a bit more than a year, the lack of official pictures or announcement, coupled with Ferrari’s new strategy, only served as validation to those who affirmed the real couple were Alexandra and Charles.

You felt sick, cold, and particularly lonely. Cab it would be.

“Babe what are you doing outside like that, you’ll get a cold !” You felt his jacket fall on your shoulders before you even heard him walk up to you. Ears buzzing, eyes watering, you weren’t sure you were able to face him.

“I’m gonna go home. I’ll leave you with your girlfriend and your dog if you don’t mind.” When you turned to him, you saw right behind one of the girls in charge of the party holding Leo, and your blood started boiling again. Charles was looking at you all confused, and you felt an itch to slap him.

“What ? What are you on about ? How ‘bout you come back inside, I think Leo misses you.” He chuckled, and you thought a full punch would probably be better than a slap.

“I don’t think your dog misses me.” The words felt like poison in your mouth, but you wanted him to get it. To understand how ridiculous this situation was getting. And why wouldn’t the girl put him down, he was clearly uncomfortable in her arms ? Why was no one taking it seriously ?

“Leo’s your dog, Y/N, I don’t get it…”

“Then give him back to me !” You screamed and the puppy yapped back, before jumping from the assistant’s arms, who shrieked and struggled to get him back. Too late, he had found your arms before she managed to pull the leash. “You should probably talk with your team, Charles.” He frowned at the use of his name, which almost always meant you were pissed. “Goodnight.”

As they finished filling their suitcases, you thought back on this evening, and that you probably should have shut your mouth. Following Lec’s launching party, what you hoped would be a wake up call for your lovers turned into something even worse. Charles was indeed called in for a talk with the PR team. And then Alex too. Your turn never came, and the more the days passed, the more it appeared your relationship was being taken over by management and marketing teams.

The following weeks had been a blur of unspoken tensions and meaningless routines. Breakfast alone, walking Leo only in the areas pre-approved to avoid pictures, going to work without him and coming home to new communication materials published with his face on it, work calls for your boyfriend stretching into the night, and your girlfriend going out so often it seemed her side of the bed was getting colder with each passing day. They both seemed to have undergone a sad transformation, their fiery and protective spirits dampened by forced compromises. Something told you they had been pushed to agree to the new directive, and yet you couldn’t help but stay mad at them. You understood Charles. The pressure he was under, the expectations of the whole team, the weight of his responsibilities. But Alexandra, you had known for too long. She had never been one to bow down and blindly agree to unfair decisions. She had loved you, through good and bad. She had promised you, together forever. And now she kept her hands by her side on the street and you wondered when her clothes had stopped smelling like you.

They kissed you goodbye, promised you mountains of gifts and a magnificent restaurant when they returned, but the door had not even closed when you fell crying to your knees. You had moved to the couch and slept there, your puppy watching over you, when your mother knocked on the door the following morning.

“Happy birthday darling !” She opened her arms and you ran in them, grabbing at your siblings behind her to get them in the hug too.

You had hoped to be out of tears by now, having spent the night reading articles speculating on why you were living with Formula 1 hottest couple -were you a distant relative ? A friend of Alex in need of a place to crash ?-, but the warm embrace of family members you hadn’t seen for months was enough to bring you back to the edge.

“Where are my favorite in-laws ?” She was beaming as she settled her belongings on the kitchen counter. “Oh that’s my baby grandson, come here baby !” She took Leo in her arms and you thought you had more time to breathe, but your younger brother tugged at your sleeve.

“Can Charlie take me on the boat ? I learned how to do a backflip at school and he can film me do it from the boat and then the others are gonna be so jealous and” You put your hand on his head and ruffled his hair softly.

“I’m sorry… Charles isn’t there. Alex too.” Your mother furrowed her brows and gave you a puzzled look. “Race weekend, and they were expected at an event they couldn’t cancel.” Your voice, barely above a whisper, was already shaking. You felt your tears ready to spill over, and gritted your teeth. “Last minute decision.”

Your brother only groaned and ran to the balcony to look at the port, already over it, but your mother came to hold your hand, and you exchanged a look of “we’ll talk about it later”.

Unfortunately, by the time you all came back from your evening out, and the kids were in bed, your mother was faced with the situation without leaving you any time to explain.

“Y/N, dear, come here please…” You sat next to her with two glasses of wine, and looked over her shoulder to her phone, where she had some celebrities gossip website open. “Is that the event they couldn’t cancel for your birthday ?” Her tone was cold, and you took at better look at the pictures.

A sunset movie-worthy, one of those that always brought tears to your eyes. A small table with candles and flowers on the beach, cocktails so colorful you could almost taste them from afar. Holding hands, looking at each other like the world had stopped, your lovers were apparently having the time of their life in a romantic restaurant, on your birthday evening. You took out your own phone. No messages.

The panic attack struck you without warning. Your heart had clenched all at once, and despite your mother’s attempt at laying you on your back, your muscles kept you rolled in a ball. You felt as if every breath was tearing apart your lungs, and could feel your heartbeat from your ears to the tip of your fingers. You could vaguely hear her talking to you, but it was as if a wall was standing between you, yet her touch felt very close, too close, as if her usually soft fingers were now burning your arms. Was it the end ? Was it how your great love story ended, alone on a Saturday night, crying so much you were drooling on the couch ? Your body was aching like never before, were you about to pass out ? To simply die ?

In the end you only managed to fall asleep after your mom calmed you down. You thought before closing your eyes that even your pain was disappointing.

You were helping your siblings pack up their bags when they came home, arms filled with packages. The little ones jumped to them, glad to have at least been able to say hello before leaving, but your mother stayed by your side, not even greeting them. She thanked them coldly for the gifts, and pushing the children towards the door, gave you a sympathetic look. She said she would always be there for you. She said you could come home if needed. But when Leo jumped on the couch and laid next to you, you knew no matter how painful it was, your home was here and there. You just needed time. You would figure it out, together. But not tonight. Tonight you just wanted out.

“Happy belated birthday, princesse.” Charles said tentatively, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he gestured to the mountain of gifts piled on the table. Alex sat by your side, but you got up before she could hold your hand.

“I don’t want your gifts. I want an apology. Think well about what you’ve done.” You kissed your puppy’s head and left the apartment immediately.

Almost running in the hallways and stairs, you got to his door panting. You knew he was back, they always made the journey together. So when he opened the door, clearly exhausted and surprised to see you, you broke down once again.

“I’m sorry Max… can I come in ?” He immediately closed the door behind you and called for his girlfriend, while his step daughter Penelope came to hug your legs. You collapsed on their sofa, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, unable to find the words to explain the depth of your pain. Kelly and Penelope tried to soothe you with soft voices and hugs, but Max only managed to pace the room, his jaw clenched in anger.

“What the hell happened ?” He had always been so sweet to you, so welcoming in this unfamiliar world. You felt bad for seeking comfort in his home after he had just came back. But the gates were opened, and while you cried, you still managed to make out a few words, enough for the couple to piece out the situation.

Penelope stayed close to you, hugging you with all the warmth a child could muster, while Kelly had been forced to stand in front of the door to prevent your friend from committing murder. They were now arguing silently, and you felt your eyes get heavier by the minute, strangely lulled to sleep by their hushed whispers. You had finally put words on what was happening, and the little girl’s cuddles had managed to calm you down to the point of dozing off.

“I think you should take her home.” Kelly murmured, still worried.

Max nodded in agreement, and he carefully scooped you in his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carried you back to your apartment. Charles was standing in the doorway, Alex pacing behind him, and both let him pass, faces etched with concern.

“You two stay right there.” Max’s voice was sharp, commanding not to argue. He laid you down in your bed, tucking the covers around you and stroking your hair until sleep finally claimed you. When he tried to leave the apartment, your two lovers were still standing by the door, begging to be heard.

“Max, please, what’s going on…” Alexandra tried to get close but he immediately took a step back, and pointed his finger at her.

“You had your chance to make things right by staying this weekend. You blew it up. Take your responsibilities.” He then turned to Charles, and almost spat to his face. “And you… I thought family was supposed to always come first. Maybe I was wrong.” His face was distorted with anger, and his knuckles white on the door handle. “You two have to man up for once in your fucking life. Either you tell Ferrari, and everyone who’s putting their noise in your business, to fuck off, or you loose her.”

With that, he slammed the door, leaving Charles and Alexandra with the consequences of their actions. They knew they had been fooled. Manipulated. Two nights ago, when the pictures of them had been taken, they were having one of the worst conversation possible. One they wanted to share with you as soon as possible, and in person, and not on your birthday. They were now wondering how they could do so without sounding like liars.

Would you trust them ? Believe Charles, when he would tell you the PR team had said you weren’t cut for fame, that the spotlights were obviously making you stressed, that you would be happier away from it all ? Believe Alex, when she would admit that they had threatened her with your boyfriend’s career, as well as your own, reminding her that she had never needed to work, and that if she loved the both of you, she should let professionals handle the situation ? Believe them, when they would say that’s what they talked about at the restaurant, and that their look of love was captured when they thought of you home, and wished you were with them ?

They weren’t sure. The thought that you could decide to end it all, and you would be smart to do so, frightened them. When they finally went to bed, hands shaking and eyes wet, each one cuddling by your side, hoping this night would not be the last, you did not even wake up.

“Still not forgiven ?” Max pushed Charles’ shoulder softly, half teasing him, half genuinely concerned for his friend, even though he hated to admit it. He had moved away from the group of men having a drink in the shared garden of their building, and had been staring at the moon for too long for someone in a good mood.

“I don’t know… She keeps saying everything is fine, but it’s clearly not. Even when we told her of our meetings, she was like… she agreed with them ?” Charles turned to his friend, disbelief written all over his face. “Said they knew what they were talking about, that it was for the best. Keeps walking behind us in the street, encourages us to go out just us two, even refuses to hold Leo when there are fans ! Her own dog, Max !” Charles felt the arm of the taller man lay on his shoulder, and he rested his head in the embrace, sighing.

As he was about to turn for a full hug, he heard Carlos whistle from the table, and Daniel signed at them to get back and away from the hedges.

“Paps.” The Aussie simply said when they got back, pointing a finger at the light of a camera through the bushes. “What a waste of money living here if they still manage to get in.” Max groaned and started to pick up the bottles, inciting everyone to go back inside.

“What a pain those fuckers…” He grumbled, clearly annoyed to not be able to enjoy his evening out with friends without the sound of camera shutters ruining everything. “What fucking interest is there to our lives, go get one of your own or something for god’s sake…” Everyone agreed but still followed him to one of the shared inside spaces, frustration hanging heavy in the air.

As they settled around the pool table, anecdotes about obsessive fans and annoying paparazzis were shared, but Charles’ mind was drifting elsewhere. An idea had begun to take root, a small glimmer of hope for his relationship, to maybe get back his girlfriend, before sadness had taken over most of her. He chugged down the rest of his drink, and called for the attention of his friends.

“What if… what if we used the paps ? What if I said fuck you to Ferrari without dealing with the legal issues ?” A spark appeared in their eyes, and in their last sober decision, they called Alexandra to come down, all agreeing she would be their voice of reason.

Oblivious to it all, you were reading in bed when the gathering happened, and would never know of it.

Only a few days later was the plan put into action. Charles’ idea of using actual paparazzis was turned down by Alex, who reminded the boys of the consequences on their careers if anyone found out who made the call. Despite his drunken arguments of being ready to fuck it all for his girls, soundly supported by his friends, she had found a much safer solution.

When you stepped on the huge balcony, you felt tears come to your eyes, happy ones, for the first time in weeks. Your lovers had crafted a perfect romantic dinner for you, straight out of a movie. The table was laid out for three, candles lit up and rose petals everywhere on the ground. A bottle of expensive champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice, waiting to be popped podium-style, and Leo was waiting by the door with a little bow tie on his collar. You had missed being just the three of you, no waitress, no management, no friends, just a homemade dinner and loving looks.

So when they took you in their arms, wrapping you in love and affection, peppering your skin with kisses and sweet compliments, you simply gave in without a care for anything else. You hugged and kissed until you had no breath left, and let them treat you, for you had deserved it.

Yet the whole time, unbeknownst to you, Daniel and Max had been stationed right under your balcony, hidden from view as they snapped pictures of the intimate scene unfolding. They did their best to capture every shared glance and affectionate touch, every kiss and hug that would make it impossible to deny the love shared between you. They had all warned paparazzis were roaming in the area the night before, which would make the whole thing even more believable for the PR teams. The secret mission was going to perfection, and when you retreated indoors with a seductive wink to your partners, Charles and Alexandra gave a subtle thumbs up to the boys to signal the end of the work for tonight.

As you awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight through the curtains you had not closed well last night, a sense of peace came over you for the first time in a while. Yesterday’s romantic dinner, and night, was still fresh in your mind and body, and you smiled when greeted with your lovers’ sleeping faces when you turned in the bed. Reaching as quietly as possible for your phone, your soft morning suddenly turned to hell as you saw hundreds of notifications and missed calls appear on the lock screen.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you scrolled them all. Missed calls from Ferrari. Messages from long lost friends. And obviously, dozens and dozens of pictures plastered across every gossip account related to Formula 1. It seemed an anonymous account had taken and posted pictures of your very private dinner during the night, and then disappeared, right after the pictures had been reposted everywhere.

With trembling hands, you turned to look at Charles and Alexandra, still sleeping peacefully by your side. Instead of finding solace in their presence, a wave of dread washed over you, the fear of losing everything you held dear threatening to consume you whole. Would this be the breaking point for them ? Would Ferrari ask you to move out ? Would they all lie, deny completely your existence ?

The sound of Leo’s plaintive cries echoed through the room, snapping your partners from their slumber. They came even closer to you, filled with concern as your breathing got more and more erratic, tears streaming down your face. They took turns kissing away your tears and whispering words of comfort until you managed to give them your phone, as well as theirs. You tried regulating your breathing as they scrolled, and sat down, expecting a tough conversation straight after.

Alex simply threw her phone away after not even two minutes of screen time, coming back to lay her head on your chest and faking purring. Charles sighed, and opened the camera of his phone. Had they asked him to make an apology video ? He turned the camera to Leo, and added his hand to where Alex’s fingers were already intertwined with yours. Snapping a pic of the small dog with your three hands next to him, he immediately posted it on his story on Instagram, which he had apparently gotten back the login details for, with the caption “Family 4️⃣❤️”.

“About time it was out officially, right love ?” Charles stroked your cheek lovingly while your girlfriend hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to you. “I was thinking your red dress for the event next week, and we could get me a new suit but” He kept rambling on, his phone buzzing non stop on his side table, head in the crook of your neck. Too stunned to speak, you simply laid back in the bed and let him talk your ear off. It wasn’t over then ?

By the time of the next Lec event, you were sure it was far from over. Alex was holding your hand, and you had gotten matching nails the day before. Charles had insisted you were the only one to wear red tonight, and he kept you as close as physically possible, one hand always on your waist. The little pup struggled to find his place in all this affection, but you made sure to keep him in your arms whenever he needed comfort, and otherwise refused to give the leash to anyone else. When Charles’ agent came to warn you there would be trouble, Alex stepped in front of you with the look of defiance you had always loved, and simply told him “With all due respect, fuck off.” Charles shrugged, saying this wasn’t a Ferrari event anyway, and smiled as he took you two away.

You finally stood tall and proud, at peace and at home. The party was quite private, you were mostly surrounded by friends and well-wishers, and one in particular came to greet you with the biggest smile on his face.

“As pretty as ever querida !” Carlos took you in his arms, and gave a small pet to Leo’s head. He congratulated you, and gesturing to the PR team seemingly having a breakdown in the corner of a room, he chuckled. “The only thing I won’t miss at Ferrari is their shitty strategy.” He winked at you before going back to the buffet, not without a last word “It’s clear the only happy family they should advertise is you three, with how they’re looking at you.”

You turned back to meet their eyes. Charles raised his glass to you, and Alex’s smile was brighter than the neon lights. You felt filled with pride, love, a sense of validation like no other. You thought of your mother, of her warm embrace and comforting words. You hoped she would see the pictures of tonight. You hoped she knew you had a home away from home in them. And so you ran to them, and laughed until your cheeks hurt, and danced until the lights went out, and promised to love until the very last star in the sky burnt out.

[sheeezu]

•Sheezu's chart of existence•

I personally don't consider the consciousness "theory" a theory. For me it's the law.

I think this is going to be my "last" post, before I go inactive.

I will still pop my head in every once in a while if I feel like it, but I've run a good course on tumblr, made post about every single topic i could think of, started a fight with a anonymous, with a person not worth the energy, and I'm planning on focusing more on myself, and any other reality than this.

(I don't vibe here)

When I disappear, where would I be? Well that's up to you to decide.

...

Seriously though, I didn't want to mention religion since it leads to conflict, but I really needed to send Cassandra to hell.

There comes a loooooot of meat in between, but I left most of it out, to keep it shifting related, and also since space was running.

...

[kirain]

Why would you pick Gale over Astarion? Man's a walking 🚩

Okay. 😒

This is the third anonymous message I've received regarding my Gale romance, and I genuinely don't get it. This isn't even a Gale-oriented blog, plus I've already answered it. I like him better. That's all there is to it. I've seen other users get hit with this question, too; as if Astarion's the only "right" choice, and it's never even warranted. I haven't said a bad word about Astarion or anyone who romances him, but the irony of you calling Gale a red flag, then shaming me for not choosing Astarion is mind-blowing. If Gale's a red flag, Astarion's an entire bunting.

Since you've pushed me, I would rather romance any of these NPCs before canonically choosing the vampire:

Hope that answers your question, anon. 👌

I was trying not to let it happen, but this fandom has effectively ruined any appreciation I might've had for the character. At this point, I'm just sick of hearing about him, especially in comparison to Gale. Everything isn't about Astarion, anon. Believe it or not, there are other really great characters, but fans like you just can't get through the day without propping him up above all others.

A few hours ago, as I was considering how to respond to this message, I bumped into this drama on a post about Shadowheart. Long story short, the uploader made a positive video where their Tav hugs Shadowheart during her personal quest, then someone came in to talk about how Astarion is "so much better" and expressed their desire to hug him during his personal quest.

Enough is enough. Seriously. I could go on and on about why Gale is actually a green flag, but I feel like I've done that extensively on this blog. And people like you will probably just disregard it anyway, because you don't like him. At the end of that day, that's really your motivation behind this, isn't it? You don't like Gale and you feel invalidated by people who do. I'm sorry, but that's a you problem. Don't go after people just because they prefer a different character. It's ridiculous.

And you know what the saddest part of this is? Astarion was next on my list to be romanced. I made a cute half-elf Durge character just for him. I wanted to do a redeemed run, since I've heard it's really rewarding ... but now I kind of don't care. Thanks for that, anon.

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[slater-baby]

Slater's Basic Writing Tips

A post on how I began writing, how I try to improve my writing, and how I describe my own writing!

This post was written per request by an anonymous ask. Refer to this post for the specific question.

A question from an anonymous writer:

"i was wondering if you could give us some insight on how you found your writing style? You have a way to make it still feel complex and full of emotion but also like the reader is right there with all the senses being touched upon. I don't know how to write about it without gushing, but my question is how did you learn to do this and what would you describe your writing style as? (as well as any hacks or tips)"

How did I begin to write?

It's hard to remember, but I really just jumped into the deep end. When I first began writing, I had no plans to do anything more than write short, 1k stories about frivolous things. I did no research, took no classes, read up on no advice.

I just started.

Of course, back then, I had no expectations for myself. I wasn't writing for a specific audience, nor was I looking to take myself seriously, and I think that helped in a lot of ways. Having fun with it, letting yourself make mistakes, and not being afraid to jump into the deep end definitely helped. In the end, all that mattered was that I was putting words down on the page.

I think that this works for a lot of hobbies. Like drawing for example. Say that you wanted to learn how to draw, but read no books on the subject, looked up no tutorials, and didn't take anyone's advice. Even without any instruction, if you drew a picture every day for 100 days straight, there would still be improvement in your ability to draw. In the end, it doesn't entirely matter whether you thought the drawings were good on a day to day basis, but rather the act of drawing that's important.

Writing is similar in many ways. And while I think that learning to write in a formal environment is great and should be encouraged for all people, practicing your writing without any rules or structure shouldn't be looked down upon either!! They're two sides of the same coin, and they contribute to your goal in their own individual ways.

Let yourself write shitty things. Let yourself write meaningless, stupid things. Trust me, it'll make your life better.

-

How do I try to improve my writing?

a. Read!

I've thought A LOT about what kind of advice I might give you, and while I don't have any concrete "hacks" to writing well, I think there are some things that every writer can do to expand upon their own abilities!

I know this is common advice, but it's true advice:

If you want to write well, you need to read well.

For a long time, I (like an idiot) assumed that I didn't really read that much, so when people were always saying that writers need to read, I was kind of like "huh well I guess I'm behind on the game lmao"

But, in actuality, I realized that that it was the complete opposite 💀 I guess it just didn't register in my mind because I don't consider reading reading....like, I just considered it me having fun alkdfjlkaf 💀

Like, reading is basically on the same level as playing video games and going to parties for me aldskjfaklj It's not a task so much as it is something I am actually viscerally addicted to lmao

I read at least 2 hours every day, usually more. I read for about an hour when I wake up and about an hour when I go to bed, mostly fiction novels. I read news articles every day at lunch for the large part of my break, which is about an hour. I read academic journals and nonfiction for class, and I also read other academic journals just in my free time 💀 that sounds dorky but it's not really serious reading as it is so much me looking up a question on google and then getting sucked into a journal about evolutionary biology LMAO

Basically, reading is like doing crack to me, and like a dumbass, I read so much that I actually thought I didn't read at all because everyone was talking about it like it was some big chore or something 💀

But honestly, it's great advice.

Read a lot. Enjoy reading a lot. Don't read just for the sake of reading, or because you have to do it. Read because you just fucking love reading! Read stupid novels that have bad reviews. Read short articles that don't mean anything. Read highly academic works for your studies, or read a journal about a topic you can barely understand purely because you're curious!

Don't let those haughty literature people tell you that you're only reading if you're reading something like Dostoevsky.

Reading is a skill and there are different levels to it. Maybe dense literature is too much for you. Doesn't mean you're worse than someone who can choke down the Iliad like it's nothing. Maybe it just means you want to spend time on things like Percy Jackson or Harry Potter instead!

b. Analyze the media you consume!

Now, this is definitely more difficult to do than just picking up a book and reading it. Admittedly this skill takes awhile to develop, and if you haven't done higher level reading in a formal setting before, you might find it kind of hard. However, if you're looking to take writing more seriously, then this is what I recommend. Here's a few things you should consider when analyzing a piece of media.

Just because you criticize something doesn't mean you can't love it, too. No piece of media is perfect. In fact, search for things you think a great piece of media could improve upon, and it'll help identify flaws in your own writing. For example, in the newest season of Severance (no spoilers), I thought that the time spent on establishing the scenery and atmosphere of some episodes was too long, and that that it lost the focus of the plot after a certain length of time.

There is no objective morality. There is no one set of beliefs that is entirely correct in the world. Claiming that one certain belief is entirely true is kind of like telling someone God exists: you really can't prove it. If a piece of media goes against your own views, consider what points the author makes that supports their thesis. Do you have to agree with them? No. Do you have to support them? No. But should you recognize that such a view point exists? Yes. It's important to always keep yourself aware of different points of view. Don't allow yourself to exist in an echo chamber.

If a piece of media leaves you confused, ask yourself why you're confused about the story. Is it because of the length of the piece? Is it because you don't recognize all of the words the author used? Is it because it's a view point you've never considered before? Or is it because the knowledge was presented in a bad way, making it hard to understand? If so, how could the author have presented it to make it more comprehensible?

Okay okay before this starts sounding like your high school English textbook, let's take a step back. You don't need to get out your college rule notebook and have your pencil at the ready to analyze a book you're reading. You can do it in small and meaningless ways!

If you're at the theater watching a movie, tell your friends what you thought about the movie! Listen to what they thought about the movie! Things like "I liked the story, but that one guy's acting kinda ruined the message" is a totally valid criticism, too. Same thing goes for books and movies! Like, "I really liked this book, but I didn't understand the words the author used in this scene, and it made the story hard to understand."

c. Take Grammar Into Consideration

Okay...this might be kind of an unpopular take when it comes to fan fiction, but grammar does matter. When it comes to short pieces, not using capital letters or commas might not seem like a big deal. However, at a certain point, trying to read something without proper grammar transforms from an innocent writing choice into an incomprehensible mess, especially when you're writing long form documents.

If you're considering writing longer pieces, please take the time to learn the rules of grammar. I promise it will help you get your point across so much smoother! Also, there are many readers who simply won't take a chance on your writing if they see that it's not properly formatted, and then they'll be missing out! Make sure to put your best foot forward for the sake of yourself and to give your readers the story experience they deserve!!

d. Find examples of writing styles you like!

This kind of goes hand in hand with my point about reading. While you're doing your reading, find examples of stories and media that you like the style of! Try to identify characteristics of that style that you're attracted to.

What kind of imagery is there? Is it metaphorical? Is it literal?

Do they use a lot of complex sentences? Maybe they like simple sentences, like getting straight to the point?

What's their tone? Are they blunt? Are they flowery?

When you're doing your own writing, you can try to incorporate these characteristics into your own pieces! Here's an example.

One of my favorite pieces of writing and media is the video game Disco Elysium. It's written so well. I really love the style of the author, specifically how he incorporates personification into his description of objects. I also like how he relies on fairly simple sentences to create visual description. In fact, if you pay close attention to Chapter 12: Glass Cut of Texas Red, you'll probably be able to see the influence from Disco Elysium peeking through my own writing style there!

e. Don't be afraid to sleep on it!

This.

This is my best writing advice.

You can read every book in the library, take every course at your local college on writing, and you'll still sit down one day and write something that you're just not sure about. Is it bad? Is it good? Is it some monstrous type of in-between that you can't even describe?

Fuck if you know.

And that's okay.

Not everything you write will be amazing. But instead of giving up on a piece that's halfway written when you get frustrated, close your computer and re-read what you wrote in the morning. Go do something else, clear your mind, sleep well in the evening, and give it some fresh eyes in the morning!

9 times out of 10 you'll be able to come to a conclusion on it in the morning.

The way I personally like to do it is this: Stare at my word document until I'm about to rip my hair out, slam my laptop closed, go play some mindless game for wayyyyy too long, and then sleep until my alarm physically cannot ring any more obnoxiously. Then, before I do anything else, I'll open my phone and squint through my exhaustion to reread what I wrote.

Idk how to describe it, but somehow, it works like a charm LMAO

-

How would I describe my own writing?

Oh god......this one I actually might not know 💀 anon you've got me

Okay, I guess here's how I would describe my style. It's highly...emotional for me. I think that's how I live my life, and I think my writing reflects that. For example, when you think about description in a novel, you often think of describing how objects and people look. But over the years in my personal life, I've discovered that I really just...don't care about the visuals of a person or place. For me, I rely heavily on how that person or objects makes me feel, not what my opinion on its appearance is.

If you read my story Indigo, you might have noticed that I never truly described what Simon looks like beyond small details of his person. Particular scars that were important to the story, what color his hair was, what clothes he was wearing--those were the only things I ever really described about his appearance, and even then, they were only written into the story when it was important to what was going on.

But, in actuality, Simon's appearance was incredibly important to Indigo. In fact, the entire premise relies on his fixation with his own appearance. But the way that I approached it wasn't from the visual standpoint, but rather his perception of himself, how his appearance made him and other people feel.

Is Simon ugly? Are his scars hideous? Are they so grotesque he should cover his face at all times? Or, even, abstain from love at all costs?

I don't know. I don't care what he looks like. But that's what Simon believes himself to be, that's how he feels, and that defines his perception of the entire world, regardless of what the true visuals of his story actually are.

That's partially why I like the emotional type of writing instead of just visual description, because it doesn't really rely on any objective truth to convey a message. That....and I honestly just don't think about how things look that much lmao

Like, once a friend of mine asked me what my ideal boyfriend looked like and I legit couldn't answer her. Because like??? I don't have an ideal man. I've dated men from all different backgrounds, different heights, different weights, different styles---I just don't really care about someone's body. I care about the feeling they evoke in me.

Texas Red is a bit of a different game though, and there's a story reason for that. Basically, the basis of Jinx and Simon's relationship is physical attraction. It's not emotional in the beginning. Jinx feels weird about Simon, not because he's nice to her, but because she thinks he's hot lmao

All in all, I think I prioritize the emotional experience of it above all else, and that's about the only defining characteristic I can commit to when it comes to my writing lmao

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And there you have it! A few tips on how I approached my own writing, as well as how you can improve your own! I hope you guys enjoyed my (completely unwarranted) gushing on the subject lmao

Thank you so much to the anon who sent the original request! I hope that this little guide helps you out!

Until next time!

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

Request: nsfw chishiya x female reader. A story where the reader tells or thinks about her dirtiest fantasys with chishiya how she wants a wild night with him or how he satisfies her (s*x, c*mming*,being h*rny, everything can be included)

♠️ "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with Chishiya?!" ♠️

A/N: It's really impressive how fast people are when it comes to requests. I mean, no complains, it's just ... wow! 😊

I haven't even posted much and still got contacted by others, giving their wishes, what they would like to read. I actually don't know if it's going to be what you imagined, but I still hope you'll like and enjoy it!

Thanks for your request in that case, my lovely anonymous! That means a lot to me, seriously. 🫶🏻✨

Characters: Chishiya

POV: fem!reader ; Smut!

Warnings: NSFW, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with sexual content and when you are under 18 years old!

"Okay, I swore I'd never talk to anyone about this, but haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with Chishiya?"

Kuina and I are calmly walking through the ruined streets of Borderlands after completing a game, while we knock some dust off our respective bodies. I don't know why I'm suddenly blurting this out. It's probably because I've been thinking about it for far too long and I know that Kuina and Chishiya have been hanging out for far longer than I have.

"I mean, come on- as calm and collected as he always is. Sex with him would definitely be extremely … interesting. There's a saying where I think that would suit him pretty well- oh, my elbow is bleeding…" I pause for a moment to consider the wound as best I can. In the end, however, I just shrug my shoulders and remain unimpressed. It doesn't even hurt ... well, so far. "Anyway, there's a saying that I'm sure it describes him very good in bed."

"Are you really talking to me about how you think Chishiya is in bed?!"

"Why don't you hear me out?!" Kuina looks at me, stunned. It's funny how she faces me with those big eyes and that open mouth. I could just laugh, but I pull myself together because there is something I really need to get off my chest:

"Still waters are deep and dirty. Pretty sure sex with him is just like that!"

"What have I actually gotten myself into here …?" My counterpart grasps his forehead in bewilderment.

Believe me, I'd like to stop talking about it myself, but I just can't! And do you know why? Because this man simply drives me crazy. Really, I've wondered what it would be like to sleep with a lot of people at the beach. My thoughts were with Aguni. With Niragi. With some other guys I don't know by name. And no matter what I do, I always end up coming back to Chishiya, who not only creates chaos in my head- but also in my body.

No, not because I have sex with him. That would make things a lot easier, but because I lie in bed at night and start doing it to myself to my thoughts and fantasies with him. I'm lucky that I have a single room and rarely if ever have to share it with anyone else. If that wasn't the case, I would have a huge problem. I wouldn't be able to concentrate on the essentials in games of life and death because I'd be there as a horny, dripping waterfall. Just because I wouldn't be able to put my fingers inside my core, making myself feel good and satisfied. Pah, that's absurd, not gonna lie!

"That guy won't let me sleep peacefully either." Kuina immediately turns back to me before letting out a somewhat annoyed sigh and going on her way. But I don't let her shake me off that easily, which is why I follow her- and eventually just keep talking, whether she wants to hear it or not. I just need to talk about that and then I'll never tell anyone about my thoughts again. "Once I woke up in the middle of the night because I had a fucking orgasm in my sleep …"

"Wonderful." The sarcasm and disinterest of the woman next to me is hard to ignore, but somehow it annoys me a little that she has such a reaction.

A reaction that makes you think that dreaming about hot sex with a man you find attractive is the most normal thing in the world.

"In my sleep, Kuina!"

"All right, I got it, Y/N!" Suddenly she stops and just looks at me.

It's hard to tell what's going on inside her right now. The look on her face is somehow telling. Literally. Not just her face. It's also her posture and her tone of voice. On the one hand, she seems tense, but her verbal communication also gives me the feeling of passivity and inattention. In addition to such patterns, she also grins to herself and seems a little amused by my statements.

"Do you want to tell me what exactly you have in mind for him?" Have I piqued her interest after all? "Maybe … that you'll have sex in the pool while you're surrounded by other people who could catch you at any time? Or … are you perhaps more attracted to the idea of him fucking you in front of a mirror, where he makes sure you get a good view of him penetrating you again and again and again, sometime slower, sometime faster, sometime deeper and sometime softer or harder?"

"I wasn't prepared for that …" Honestly, the way she responds to your words leaves you speechless. "

"But if you ask like that-"

"Please tell me you don't-"

"The last time I masturbated myself to sleep, I thought about what it would be like if he fucked me that night in the hotel lobby." Silence. "I mean, everyone's lying in bed doing their own thing. The couch in the lobby is free, the lights are off, and we're having sex with each other…on the soft fabric of the couch." The silence gets louder. "We're standing in front of it. Making out with each other a little bit. Sticking our tongues down each other's throats, our hands roaming… over every part of the body you can reach." Shit, just the thought of it makes me horny again. "Then he kisses down my neck, I sigh and moan pleasurably to myself as he runs over my curves and tries to drive me crazy by biting my sensitive skin here and there and giving me a few lovely hickeys, to show everyone that I correspond solely to HIS territory…" Now the silence during the breaks is just embarrassing, but I still can't help but grin broadly and enthusiastically, already knowing how the story will continue. "And then we'll have a really good time on the sofa, with the risk of getting caught by someone because I can't control my moans while he plays with my clitoris… slides his fingers into me… licking my pussy with his tongue or penetrating me with the tip of his tongue to drive me completely crazy before driving his cock into my pussy and stimulating my most sensitive spot over and over again~." By now Kuina is making a pretty disgusted face, but if she doesn't interrupt me or even run away, my story can't be that bad, can it? "And if no one looks where the moans are coming from, then the next morning everyone will still know who did it so well for me because I will scream his name through the whole hotel. He fills me with his entire length and with his As he climaxes, his thrusts become more and more irregular and deeper because he wants to inject his sperm into me as deeply as possible…" I'm wet.

I notice how my panties are getting wetter and wetter. How I literally start to drip. It's extremely difficult for me to keep my eyes open because I'm just feeling so much sexual desire again. Again just because I'm thinking about Chishiya and what it would be like to feel him inside me. To be filled by him.

"Are you done now ... ?" Kuina asks after we've been silent for a little more than a minute after my last sentence. "Please, be done now!"

A simple "Yup" is the answer to everything before I bring up another "And now I have to find a toilet real quick". Just walking past my companion, who gave me an unexpected "Are ... you going to masturbate?" which I only responded with an approving “Coooorrect!” before she finally freed from me.

A/N: God, sometimes I was laughing so hard while writing this, I'm so sorry. 😂

[bishonenspit]

Patalliro is writted by a straight man and was published on a shojo magazine with a lot of exposure, same as BL and its authors, meanwhile geikomi is self published and works like Uo to Mizu hardly gets any recognition. I am not being antifujo, but gay men creating gay art receive less monetary support than bl , and I think they both deserve recognition, especially the one created by a queer minority. How is it possible that there is only one BL author who has donated to the same sex marriage movement in Japan?

I read geikomi and buy the pixiv fanbox of multiple authors btw

Well first off, it isn't possible that just one BL author has donated to the same sex marriage movement, because that just is not true. Does an allegedly female author need to be public with her support in again, a conservative country that most outwardly detests women first and foremost, especially those in male-fronted industries like manga, for you to accept her allyship? You're assuming that every woman (again, ALLEGED women. You're making up women to look down upon. The genders of BL authors are often left anonymous.) is some kind of dismissive bigot who only writes BL to get off or something. Consider that possibly, a woman or queer person in a surely at least somewhat oppressive environment like the manga industry, might need to protect themselves and their work by being slightly under the table with their support? If you aren't being "anti fujo" which, sure, let's pretend you aren't, you're being a misogynist. If you ignore the anti-fujo label and discourse as a whole, that's what the mindset is entirely. People do not like that women read and write queer stories. Period. That misogyny continues into shoujo, by the way, even ones with "a lot of exposure." What world do you live in where there was 0 pushback towards Maya Mineo, or other shoujo mangaka like Takemiya or Hagio and all the extensive others who published very blatantly queer works in shoujo magazines back in the 70s and 80s. There was. Japan is a conservative country. Japan does not like queerness in any form. Geikomi is a NICHE under the expansive BL umbrella. Do you think that these hypothetically cisgender heterosexual females writing BL are just rolling in dough or something and flaunting their wealth to the sad and lowly gay male mangaka? Like what fucked hierarchy have you invented for the sake of shitting on women?? I don't understand why you've come to me with this. What do you want to have happen? I'm one person and frankly it is clear where my tastes run from what I post here. You're doing your part, clearly, in an area you think needs it. You're giving them money, if you really are, and you're not just saying that to posture yourself further. Seriously, get your head out of your ass and stop functioning with the idea that BL manga is by women for women only. Maybe 20 years ago. Maybe 40 years ago, but even then, be for real. June magazine had an incredibly high gay male readership, when a lot of artists featured within it were women. Queer men in Japan read BL all the time. There is no doubt they are a contributing factor to the success of the genre. Your actual knowledge of BL history and Japanese society is heavily skewed by discourse from Twitter or something. Don't piss me off

[littlejuicebox]

An Early Highharvestide Feast

(Soft Dom Astarion x Female Reader)

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Setting: 4 years after BG3, "good" ending, Unascended Astarion x F Reader Notes: Took a break from my WrenxAstarion fic to write this Thanksgiving-themed (kind of but not really... lol it just worked for the plot), one shot. This idea was playing in my head, and I had to get it out. Hope you all enjoy and have a happy Thanksgiving! This might end up being a Part 1 of a mini story. I'd like to do the fluff scene with all their friends around and imagine the lives they've lived. I love to see comments about what you liked in the story, it inspires me for other fics. Rating: Mature 18+ / smut Word Count: 2.5K

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You’re in the kitchen, flowers strewn about the marble countertop as you arrange the bouquets for tomorrow’s banquet. It’s been four years since you’ve seen everyone at the same time, and finally, finally, the old gang will be back together in one room in less than 24 hours. Your heart practically soared in anticipation... a Highharvestide banquet in your very own home, with your favorite people in the world. You wanted everything to be just perfect.

The planning had taken weeks. Astarion had left the menu to you, of course, apart from the wine and alcohol selection. He had taken that from you quite early on and it had been more than a tenday before he solidified his choices between his frequent business meetings and your political events. He’d focused heavily on guiding you both in politics and expanding your wealth the past few years, while you focused on gardening and improving Baldur's Gate... plus navigating the lack of anonymity in your life.

Admittedly, you’d stumbled clumsily through your change in status, from unknown woman to Lady Ancunin, while Astarion glided into the position like he’d simply left his post for a long vacation. You’d been happy to take the lead in the wilds while a tadpole was lodged in everyone's brains, but you were even happier to hand the reins to him once the city was safe. And you were always proud to tell your friends that he’d navigated the two of you through the changes quite well.

In fact, he'd just purchased a second property outside of Baldur’s Gate with aims to start your very own winery; his pet project that he loved quite dearly. It was beautiful to watch Astarion approach something with such passion and vigor. After becoming the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, it had pained you that he could no longer stand in the sun. Not as much as it so obviously pained him. His mask was carefully crafted, and yet you often saw right through it. You hoped that perhaps one of your friends would bring news of a cure for his condition to the feast.

He had always been adamant that he’d make the same choice over and over again, but guilt still stabbed you like a dagger to the gut when you saw him watch the sun rise from the deepest depths of your manor or caught him studying your tan lines from your many hours spent out in the garden, your own personal pet project, specializing primarily in night blooming plants.

Astarion’s voice pulls you from your reverie as he enters the kitchen with Scratch trailing behind him. His vermillion eyes are focused on a scroll in his hands as he grasps a bone from a jar and tosses it into the dog’s bed. Scratch obediently settles himself into the plush mattress, content to gnaw away at the treat.

“Darling, your dog went after the chickens again. One of the staff had to run him down and then give him a bath. We may want to seriously consider a trainer. Command beast works all well and good when you’re around, but not everyone has that skill set in their repertoire, dear.” His tone carries just the slightest tinge of annoyance; you two have had this conversation before. But you know in his heart of hearts that Astarion loves the blasted dog perhaps more than you do.

You glance at Scratch, currently focused on giving you his best look of feigned innocence. The look reminds you quite a bit of another white-haired miscreant standing in that very same kitchen and you chuckle. Distracted, you feel the miscalculated slip of your hand as you reach for a particularly thorned flower stem. The punishing sting causes you to wince and pull in a sharp intake of breath. Blood blooms in buds of red on your fingers and the scent catches Astarion’s attention immediately.

His eyes are alight as he chides you. “You really must stop bleeding everywhere, my heart. It’s distracting.” He places the scroll down and comes to your side, grasping your hand in his to examine the damage.

“Perhaps if you helped me with these arrangements like I’d asked, I wouldn’t be in this situation, my love.” You respond with a soft huff, but you extend your hand towards the vampire, already quite aware what his next move will be. He bends to lick the red droplets from your skin before he kisses the knuckle of your hand. Astarion will never waste such a precious thing, that much is certain.

“Perhaps if you more frequently used the staff -- that we pay quite well, might I add -- to do things like tend your garden, put all these flowers in vases, and perform any number of menial tasks, then you wouldn’t be in this situation.” The vampire retorts with a raised eyebrow. “All of this is below your station now. It truly pains me to see your beautiful hands doing such things, my dear.”

You smile as you close your eyes and whisper a healing incantation, sealing the superficial wounds with minimal effort. You swivel in your seat and turn to face your husband, eyebrow arched to mirror his own, voice slipping into a coy register. “And what, Lord Ancunin, would you rather see my hands doing?”

You won. You could see it in the darkening of his eyes as he placed his hands on either side of the counter and pressed forward to look at you, red eyes flitting between yours.

Astarion had ebbed and flowed in his sexual appetites, especially in the first few years of your union. He had been plagued by panic attacks and night terrors something awful; they still occurred but not with the same horrid frequency. Your many nights of herbal teas and "flower child" magic, as he so lovingly called it, eased the suffering. You’d been content to ride the waves of desire with him, and it seemed more recently, as the two of you adjusted to domestic life, his appetites had returned with force.

His face hovered just inches in front of yours, eyes alight with a combination of adoration and lust as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling back and running his eyes greedily down your body, cocking his head as he fantasized about any number of dirty things. “I have several delicious ideas for those hands, darling.”

The flowers were scattered on the ground, along with a broken vase in an instant. The vampire hoisted you up with relative ease before placing you onto the cool, marbled counter. His hands grazed up the side of your silken gown and then delved under the hem to explore your bare skin. He quickly found his way to the junction between your thighs and a pleased, rakish smile crossed his face.

“No underclothes, Lady Ancunin? You truly do desire to test my patience today.” His eyes locked with yours as he knelt in front of you, draping your legs over his shoulders and pushing your dress up to reveal you to him fully.

You would have to enlist the help of the staff tomorrow afternoon. The tradeoff was well worth it, you thought, as your silver-haired husband bowed his head before you to run his tongue against your slit, a little hum escaping him as he tasted your warmth. He ran his tongue up to your clit, his lazy, languid strokes pressing into you. Always such a tease.

“Astarion…” You murmur, bucking your hips toward the vampire as your hands found silver curls of hair and took hold.

A smile snaked its way across his lips as he continued his torment. You were wriggling, desperate for more, which the elf adamantly denied you, his hands gripping into your thighs as he brushed his feather light tongue against you once more. Just enough stimulation to keep your attention, but not enough to provide any relief.

“My love..” Your tone is practically begging for him to give you more.

“Mm, darling. I do believe I need to show you what else your hands could do, don’t I?” He grabs your hand and yanks it towards your sex, where he guides you to play with yourself. Hungry red eyes watch the show as arousal begins to drip from you onto the countertop. He slips two long fingers deep inside your cunt and curls them slightly, pumping the digits in and out, which earns him a delightful moan. Still on his knees, the vampire removes his fingers from inside your walls and licks your juices off his hand before sliding your legs off his shoulders and standing. He makes quick work of ripping your gown over your head, pressing gentle kisses against the newly freed flesh of your chest. You are now completely barren and exposed to your lover, his lustful eyes stoking the fire between your legs.

His own arousal is now clearly straining against his clothes. Astarion quickly undoes the buttons of his collar and lacings of his trousers, freeing his cock before your hungry gaze. You’re still playing with yourself as you watch the man completely undress before you.

“Now darling…” He murmurs in that sensual tone reserved only for you. He guides your unoccupied hand to the twitching length of his cock and wraps it around the shaft, giving a few experimental pumps into your hand. “What else can your beautiful hands do?”

You take the queue and begin moving your hand around his length. Astarion hisses in pleasure, rolling his hips as he fucks your hand. The vision is quite lewd; you're playing with your own pussy as you pump your lover’s cock in time, your respective arousals just inches from one another but not touching. It's enough to cause the heat in your cheeks and your sex to rise and illicit several excited keens from you. He teasingly moves his length closer to your entrance, pulling away just as the head of his member brushes against you. You want to scream every time he pulls away, the bastard lives to tease you to the edge of desire.

Astarion was watching the scene with rapt interest, absolutely transfixed. His breath was quickening as he pressed himself into your hand, watching the head of his penis sheath and unsheathe itself under your ministrations as your pussy prayed to be plunged into, leaking arousal all over the cold countertop. He was always more in control in these situations, able to keep a firm hold on his desire in a way you never could.

“Look at my little treat, making such a mess on these expensive counters.” He murmured in mock disappointment and mock condescension, eyes burning with excitement. “Play with yourself and show me the mess you make when you cum for me, my sweet.”

You moan, desperate to have him fill you. “Astarion, please. Fuck me already. Please.” You’re keening, fingers rubbing against your clit with vigor. Desperate for something to fill the ache inside you, you remove your hand from your lover’s cock and shove two fingers into your wetness. The stimulation is fantastic and rips a moan from your vocal cords as your head tilts back.

Astarion chuckles darkly at the scene before him. It was no secret that he loved the way you inflated his ego when you begged for him, a writhing mess of wanton desire for his eyes only. The do-good, stoic hero of Baldur’s Gate turned into a desperate, needy little minx under his touch. He never tired of it. “Cum for me, darling. And then you will get your reward.”

You aim to do as he says, using one hand to plunge in and out of yourself while the other rubs frantically at your clit. Your legs are spread wide, displaying everything to the vampire as you push yourself towards release. Finally, the bubble bursts and an orgasm crashes around you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body and into your thobbing sex. The pulsing seems nearly endless, and you feel the ooze of your juices sliding between your legs as you ride the wave of pleasure. When you come to your senses and flutter your lids open, Astarion's eyes are boring into you with such desire that it causes a tremor of excitement to run down your spine.

In one swift move he has you in a new position. Your feet are on the floor, albeit legs a bit shaky, and your ass is turned toward your lover, body bent at the waist. Your face is pressed into the counter, into the stickiness of your own juices. Everything smells of sex.

A delicious groan escapes from the vampire as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, ready to take you from behind. “Beautiful... now, let’s see if I am able to make you come undone once more.”

Astarion slams into you with vigor, the force of the movement knocking the wind out of you as he groans in appreciation. Your soaking wet sex offers no resistance and you gasp at the pleasure of the rapid intrusion. He repeatedly drags himself back at a tortuous, languid pace just to thrust himself balls-deep once more, snapping his hips into the flesh of your ass, moaning every time he takes you to the hilt.

“Oh gods!” You exclaim as he picks up the pace, pumping into you with increasing speed, his cock curving gratifyingly along your insides. You feel yourself clenching around him as his efforts push you toward another peak.

Astarion growls and grabs your hand, guiding it once again to your clit. You’re climbing up to a second release as he rolls his hips behind you in an unceasing onslaught.

“There you go, little love. Won’t you cum for me again?” He coaxes in a graveled whisper as his lips and tongue trail down your spine, never once ceasing his thrusts. The vampire’s teeth find a beautiful little spot at the meeting point of your shoulder and neck, and he bites down, just enough to draw blood. The sensation pushes you over the edge and you spasm around your lover, your cunt eagerly gripping at his length.

“Oh! Oh... oh, my love.” The vampire groans as your throbbing sex pushes him over the edge, his final pumps turning sloppy as he spills into you. The two of you are a mess of panting chests and tired limbs for a few moments before Astarion straightens himself up and gently pulls you from the counter, dotting kisses along your shoulder where he left the bite.

"That was wonderful." You whisper, turning to face the vampire as you plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Mmh.” Astarion agrees in a little hum as he looks down at you with soft and loving eyes, pushing strands of hair away from your face before holding your chin in his hand and planting another kiss on your lips. The slightest of smiles flits across his lips as he runs his hands down to the curve of your waist. You move to begin cleaning up the mess you two made when your lover grabs your hand and begins to tug you away from the kitchen.

"Now, now, darling. Leave that be. I haven't finished showing you what else your hands can do… and we only have a bit longer before our friends show and ruin all the fun. Seems my Highharvestide feast came a day early." He muses, before eagerly leading you to the bedroom you both share. The flowers would have to wait.

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Part 2: Happy Highharvestide Day (all fluff)