#HIS STOMPS AUGH

[mangopazte]

HE IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME….HIS LIL HOPS….

[malhare-archive]

>video about Frank Horrigan

>comments are turned off

Yeah that tracks. Frank Horrigan is the biggest example of the Fallout fandom just completely missing the point of a character, Frank Horrigan fanboys prop him up as some chad alt right supersoldier but in reality he's a tragic character who is completely misguided and brainwashed, throwing away his life for the very people who tortured and abused him. Frank Horrigan is an allegory for those who would sooner heartlessly destroy those similar to them than to admit that they are being used and abused too

[chokchokk]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄) | choi san x fem!reader

a requested drummer boyfriend!san one-shot

“How do I feel like, Sannie?”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : With your eyes on his playing, San feels like a superstar. 

You, on the other side, feel super horny. Mamma Mia…

“You feel like you're mine."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.8k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, a bit cocky but very sweet drummer!san, shy but not inexperienced girlfriend!femreader, sensory overload & deprivation, slight dry-humping (f), light-hearted teasing, pet-names (sun, sunshine, sunny, baby), explicit consent, verbal & physical reassurance, blindfolding, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, love-making, passionate sex, unprotected sex (not sorry), cussing; banging against the wall and mattresses squeaking used as a narrative and poetic device, barely plot just good fuck and tuck (aftercare)

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wrote this in 4 long sessions while i had a very horny long distance relationship with drummer!san due to all the business i experienced while working on this lol. i missed him any time i couldn't write for him, which, over the course of almost 2 months (i'm sorry)... is long.... i promise it is sweet and love-making but uh. horny. i was drunk for a big chunk (like a half) of writing this (took care of obvious errors but tell me if you find anything please omg.) anyway lmao hope you have fun reading it <33 always appreciate reblogs, likes and comments/feedback xoxo

𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : @ateezstanforever : @sanwhalvr : @itsvxlentine : @jeonride : @r1kitti : @sanniesbunnie : @northerngalxy (thank you!!!)

masterlist link | join my taglist

[ what he’s playing : MAMMAMIA / FEEL / FOR YOUR LOVE ▸ Måneskin | playlist ]

OH, OH, OH, AUGH!

There he goes again, your boyfriend, his black earphone plugged deep into one ear, drum sticks held firmly in his hands, hammering down on the drums he's been abusing for the past, uh — gosh, how long has it been? An hour? A lifetime? 

You love your Sannie, you really do, but when you signed up to be the girlfriend of infamous drummer “Sun Set”, you were expecting heated, secret glances from the stage to the audience, feverish making out-sessions post-concert, and while you do get those things in an overdose, listening to drum covers (without the vocals, mind you) on repeat until your ears actually fall off–? No, that one was not on the initial contract.

And, come on, it's finally the weekend after one long, exhausting week, which San and you usually spend trying to de-stress, relax and relieve yourself. So yes, if it was as usual, you would be spending your sweet time with your boyfriend right now— if it wasn't for his upcoming competition with his band.

Alright. It’s not to say that you are being forced to stay here in between these soundproof walls, covered by graffiti San's bandmates left to immortalize their jam-sessions, and don’t forget the pungent smell of tobacco that will without a doubt stick to the hoodie you fetched after he took it off— you do want to be a supportive girlfriend that’s worth winning those 1K for.

So, you’ll still give him a thumbs up and applause every time he finishes with a song, tilts up his head triumphantly, fingers running through his incredibly disheveled red hair that has formed singular spikes of sweaty strands, while the drum sticks still rest in his hands with his breath all messed up. He gives it his all, but what you understand is that San gives even more when you are there to watch him: At least that’s what you’re seeing right now, when he doesn't give himself more than five seconds to transition to the next track.

Lower lip bitten deep by his teeth, face pulled together to a concentrated frown, head rocking up and down, side to side, with his red locks waving around in the wind of his energy and feet aggressively stomping down the bass drum, your boyfriend feels his music, always, with his whole body, his mind drowns and explodes with the help of his loud instrument, and as you sit there, on the couch, a pillow clenched in between your legs– you try to balance out the overbearing noise by digging your nails into the cushion, and you deal with the “awe” you feel for your boyfriend being so immersed by his artistry, god, so astonishingly burning and afire— by pressing your thighs together so the beats of his drum can finally stop pulsating between them.

San doesn’t smile when he plays, you noticed it a while ago, makes an almost disgusted-looking face by scrunching his face together, especially when he really hammers down the cymbals and throws his head to the back, drilling holes into the ceiling with his eyes as if he’s challenging the gods to come stop him, his thick neck glistening in his sweat, his pulse pumping through the vein that is bulging out. 

Oh, mamma…

You hope those gods do have mercy with you, because San looking like this does things to you that go beyond just feeling fear that he’s going to throw his shit to the floor. It makes you go into a craze that he’s also wearing a very drenched black tank top and pair of ripped jeans, his black bandana he had on his head is now tied around his thigh, and his arms are flexing with each time he’s thwacking down on his tom-toms and smashing the cymbals— fuck, where does your boyfriend get the time to go to the gym? Is it getting hot in here? You can’t possibly be enduring overheating on top of a headache, you’ll actually pass out or have to rip off your clothes in its entirety. But, shit, look at him— your boyfriend looks absolutely carnal right now and you can’t even slightly touch him, you’re going to melt. Like actually melt into mush.

… mia.

San is going through his usual cathartic euphoria, the snaring sounds of his drums and cymbals penetrate your ear cut and clean, but while you usually can bop your head to it, listening to him does slightly differ, when your brain clenches after each sound that follows the other. 

It’s 1 AM. The weekend has just started. It’s been two hours of his practice now, with a small ‘make-out break’ that is already more than thirty minutes ago. San promised you, ‘just one last song and I’ll be there for you, yeah?’, but there goes he, your boyfriend, Choi San, Sun Set, drumming along to his tenth or something song, overflowing in intense passion.

You could have been lying in bed with him, San in your arms or you in his, smothered by his love or something, anything; Please, just… No more beating the skin. No more rudiments, diddles– you don’t want to hear none of it, and you know you’re being an immodest glutton for your boyfriend thinking of him like this, but there’s nothing else on your mind except him and how bad you want him to stop playing. Of course you can’t say that out loud, at least not that he could hear it over the sounds of his drums, especially over how loud the music in his earbuds is set, the vocals screech through the plastic so even you can hear the shouts.

San values his musical time with his drum, needs it to feel secure for the competition, it would be cruel to interrupt him just because you have a headache and an even more so aching cunt, right?

No, you dummy.

San is your boyfriend. Or no, you, dear, are his beloved girlfriend. He’s not going to let you sit here and suffer, even if you mean well for him and watch Sun Set be hot. Being his scarily attentive self, he catches the strain in your face and immediately stops stepping into the bass drum with his sneakers. A very acute quietude interrupts his playing and washes all of your boiled up headache away.

Silence.

It can sound so sweet, can’t it? Can feel so sweet, too…

“Hey, are you okay, sunshine?”, San asks, and after your ears get used to the lack of sound, you see his sweat drop from his forehead, hear his voice soft and molten, which starkly contrasts the overwhelming volume of the instrument he’s been playing.

“No, it’s nothing,” you murmur, failing at hiding your discomfort, as the pillow still rests in your hands, nail marks as visible as visible can be on the velvety surface. You’ve obviously been scratching that, don't even try to hide it.

“Oh, sunshine,” San sighs with a sorrowful smile that understands immediately, and after he swings his legs from the stool, he makes his way to you with open arms to slide them under your armpits.

You liquefy in his hug, the pillow tumbling out your groin, body going lax immediately as you wrap yourself around his neck, sinking into him. The couch squeaks a bit upon the impact of San falling into it, but the shrill noise is nothing compared to the beat of his drums. His embrace engulfs you, makes you feel sunken in remedy, reverie and warmth– and the slippery surface of his back only adds to the experience of having your lover in your arms. All that was a buzzing chaos— San makes it golden, melting your tense body, lifting it up to gently sit down on the couch side-ways with you on top, your ear listening to how his heart knocks against his ribcage, slowly, loudly, steadily.

“It’s past midnight already!”, he gasps silently, looking at the clock, “Why didn’t you tell me, sunny?”

“You had that look on again,” you whine, face planted into his breast, god, his pillowy, sweaty chest— and look up to him, as he strokes over your back.

“I have something like that?”, San hums, voice is kept low so he doesn’t irritate you in any way, though there’s a slight suggestive swing in the repetition of your words, “A look?”

His eyebrow twitches up and his lips are curled into a smirk, wanting you to tell him in detail what’s gotten you to fidget around with the pillow and whine in impatience, clearly bleeding in confidence that comes from having not missed even the slightest beat of the songs.

You didn’t think drummers were that sexy, since the usual limelight was kept on the flirtatious vocalists, powerful guitarists or the red-blooded bassists, but after San had invited you to one of his jam-sessions on the third date, your life had been tilted upside-down, rocked, and your fate settled. (It was really rough to not fall around his neck after his drum-solo, peculiarly when Seonghwa and Wooyoung kept making jokes about your red cheeks, but you still remember the way San asked you whether you were alright with his heavy breath, and, oh god, does it still turn you on to this day.)

If it’s not the look he has on his face every time he pounds into his instrument, the one which you can feel flutter in between your legs, it’s most certainly the look in his eyes he has on right now, the sultry, slightly taunting gaze that’s trying to make you sweat, and as if the room isn’t heated up enough, his dark irises spark in between his eyelashes, kindling a fire in you that definitely needs extinguishing— so best believe he should know it.

“Your fans tell you every day, Sannie,” you groan, embarrassment croaking your voice while you snuggle yourself deeper into his comfortable body, his thigh parked between your legs. You can feel the knot of his bandana stroke your core and you shudder a little bit, a cracked breath escaping out your nose. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows– doesn’t seem to acknowledge how you inhale deeply– and San exhales out a chuckle, answering, with glittery puppy eyes that make you unable to say no any further, “I’d like to hear it from you though, sunshine…”

You slump deeper into his flesh and as his bandana grazes the thin layer of your booty- shorts again, you savor how slow he’s breathing and how warm he feels under you, sighing, “Sannie, when you play the drums… It’s like… W- wow, what do I say, you know…”

“Aww, don’t be shy now,” San croons and doesn’t acknowledge how he’s encouraging you to keep grinding needily on his thigh, hands skidding to your ass to cup them delicately, drifting and pushing you over slowly. “I don’t know, Sannie… You–,” you whirr and you have to inhale sharply after your sensitive bud tingles, “You… make my head hurt, Sann- n- nie.”

Alright, let’s be honest here. You’re lying through your teeth, and San chuckling is confirmation that he doesn’t believe the lie one single bit.

Yes, your head hurts, but that was his music, not San as the only man who could take care of all the feelings that have been jamming up like crazy. Feelings being a gut-wrenching mix of longing, craving, lusting for San as hard as you do. Even now, you can count the drops of sweat on his face dripping down his freckled neck you’ve already previously admired, but seeing it up close makes you quite greedier, especially when you can still make out his flavor on your tastebuds from having had your tongue down his throat a (too long) while ago. Not to forget his fingers groping into your plump butt right now, and it’s confusing how your boyfriend’s visage can stay as innocuous as it looks while he’s obviously supporting you on chasing your thrill.

After the silence that follows San’s chuckle, your boyfriend speaks up again, and despite the air being undeniably thick, his voice vibrates comfortably in his ribcage, lulling in the side of your head; “I’m so sorry for making your pretty head hurt, Y/N.” 

You click with your tongue, pouting, gathering a bit of your energy that’s slowly coming back, and grab San by his shoulders. You turn your head so your chin is poking into his sternum, looking right to where he’s eyeing you down. You stop grinding and he looks with a smile.

“How can I make it up to you, hm?”, your boyfriend snickers softly, hands disappearing under his hoodie to trail you down your back and waist with his fingers. You feel fuzzy and velvety under his touch, and him gently breathing out “sunny” melts in your ears like a restorative, refreshing breeze after the endless knocks of his drums intimidating you and tying your throat shut.

“My ears were seriously killing me, I think,” you admit, but the cute pout remains formed on your lips.

“Ohh, Y/N, I’m– I’m really sorry to hear that. I really didn’t want to make you hurt, sunny, I promise,” San sniffles and mirrors your pout; you get the hunch he does feel very, very sorry this time, yet his hands are very guilty of slithering up your back and— clip! Open up your bra.

Ignoring that you flutter, feel light and feel the relief already, you uncontrollably giggle in surprise and push yourself up, getting to see more of your boyfriend’s handsome face. He has stopped pouting now, using his tongue to wet his red-tinted lips with a friendly, yet very ferocious smile. “You know the songs I was playing right now, sunshine?”

“No, I don’t,” you answer with continuing honesty.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “hm, maybe it’s better that way,” voice dripping like honey, but the sweet innocence is feigned, making you curious of what he’s hiding from you, deflecting from the very evident scene he’s painting.

His caramel skin proves it; for the particularized taste, heat must be added for sugar to win aroma, and your boyfriend is testing the theory to its limits.

Gliding his hands to your hips, San gets your cheeks burning, and when he hooks his fingers into his hoodie and drives it off your body, you lick over your lips asking yourself if you need any clarity to know where this is going; With your arms raised, your boiling skin meets fresh air through your drenched shirt and you shudder for a short moment, before your boyfriend gets his hands on the bra, fetches it, and slithers it out your arms.

After it drops to the ground and San sees your nipples poke through your shirt, he shifts his weight to the front to make you trip on your back, and takes off his tank top with both of his hands. His lats spread frighteningly wide and you let out a gasp. You’ll never not be surprised about how beefy your boyfriend is; San’s sweaty body expands in front of your eyes, and his collarbones are perfectly in your sight, as he hovers over you with his hand propped next to your head. There’s a wave of heat hitting your face and you aren’t sure whether you’re blushing or if his body is just genuinely that thermal.

Adopting the rather playful tone of your lover, you sulkily murmur, “It’s unfair if you don’t tell me about those things now, Sannie,” letting your finger trail along his slippery chin with softness, aware that you will only semi-attentively listen to his words from how distracted you are from his fallen eyes that are slowly flaming up. There’s only two things on your mind and while one of them includes going home, the other one can be perfectly executed on the couch.

“Oh, so naughty things, sunny, I don’t know if you want to hear about them, actually.” 

San chuckles, his words contradicting how eagerly he kisses your hand, piercing through you with his eyes, making you melt. He gets his upper body up, his knees caging you in and you murmur “tell me about them”, as your boyfriend grabs you by wrist to help you move it down his chest that is still perceivably sleek, down to his abs that are just as lubricious and then, with a heavy sigh he definitely forms into a clear “ha~” leaving his mouth which makes your insides wobble.

Your boyfriend is such a tease. On stage, he doesn’t get to be as interactive as his band-counterparts do, like getting their sweat-drenched heads dangle down to the crowd and be ruffled through their hair, but Sun Set surely takes off his top oftentimes enough so every fan of his can admire his build. Your boyfriend’s amazing build. 

He lets go of your hand to go through his red hair with a smirk, peeking down at his belt, clearly driving you into a wall here which is going to feel feathery light, but still so scary to brush against your skin— you have to make a choice here, one that makes your voice come out stuttered, one that proves to San that he's on the right track, cooking you up deliciously.

San might be a tease, but ohh, Y/N. You’re just so fun to tease, aren't you?

“P.. Please, Sannie,” you murmur, shyly, voice whispery because the headache fizzles inside your head, rather cripplingly slowing down your thoughts. He knows he likes it a bit too much, you being shy, but there’s something twitching inside his pants, when San thinks about the things he can do to you tonight to make you react even more, a smirk hurrying onto his face.

“Mmmm,” he hums, and you watch him collectively gather the bits and tits of his vivid, loud, rocking mind, silence remaining strikingly strong between you two, your head beaming everytime he doesn’t say anything to take his time to think. 

“Things you were doing with that pillow for example,” San hushes. Your hands move by themselves to unbuckle his belt, and while you do blush a little bit, both your hands get the black leather strip out the clip with hurried motions. “Or the things you were doing to my thigh just a second ago, sweet sunshine.”

Your boyfriend snickers and once his belt is on the floor too, he shuffles a bit to the back and wraps his fingers around your ankles, pulling you so you lay straight on the couch, while he’s kneeling between your legs, cowered as small as his big frame allows it.

“I- I don’t think I understand yet, Sannie,” you droop, wanting San to get more explicit with you so you can swim in his vulgarity that he oozes, and also make him finally confirm you don’t have any reason to be embarrassed about being the only one whose guts are demanding to be stirred. He’s getting more bricked up, and since his baggy jeans are hanging loose now, you can see his cockhead bulge out his boxershorts. “I think you need to explain it more…”

You gulp at the wet patch and flutter with your eyelids, and with San’s thumbs caressing your love handles and leaning towards over your torso, his heat radiates to your face again. You were feeling a bit more bold, but no, you could never get used to how intensely San looks at you. His eyes speak a thousand words, sing a million songs, and they’re all about getting a bite of the red on your cheeks and taste how it will melt into his tongue. There’s a droning buzz which thumps into your eardrums and it’s blood rushing to your head at the incalescence of your boyfriend, who doesn’t let a second pass where he’s not touching you, even when he’s pulling off your t-shirt from your body.

“Hmmm, maybe you’re just not able to listen correctly, my love,” San sneers, almost paradoxically sweet, and arousal boils in your guts, while your sweated body gets used to the new temperature, your boyfriend’s hands cupping your breasts once, just to have finally get a touch. “Because of the headache, right? Mmm, right,” he murmurs to himself, and San unravels the bandana on his thigh.

You look at how he straightens the fabric in front of you, and how his hands slowly approach your head. “Will you let me fix that, sunshine?”

“Wh.. What are you going to do, Sannie?”

“Show,” and San instantaneously corrects himself, after he lets the slightly warmed up fabric drape over your forehead, ”hmm, make you hear,” to then let it fall over your eyes, getting very close to your ear, so his warm lips line your earlobe, his raspy voice reverberating in your ear. “Make you hear yourself, Y/N.”

“Yeah..?”, you whisper, and look at San for a last time– his eyes sparkle in excitement that can’t be heard through the droopiness of his voice:

“Listen to how my love makes you feel, baby.”

Ayayay…

“How is this, Y/N?”

“Lemme see,” you joke and you blink a few times, after the bandana has been tightened behind your head. It is pitch-black dark in front of you. Quickly, you feel how you’re getting more aware of San’s breath coming through and leaving his mouth– you following his slow pace soon enough– and feel especially how his rough fingers are tucking in your hair so he gets to see all of how your face muscles pull together in pleasure, sending your cheeks and nose into a ticklish wave of sensation.

“It’s,” you say, but what was once a steady voice turns– after getting goosebumps all around after San courses down your neck to your sternum with the tips of his fingers– into a whimper: “A- amazing, Sannie.”

You hear San sigh, and you’re sure it’s a sigh of awe, him watching your hand search for his so you can hold it. He intertwines the fingers immediately, and when he’s at your shorts with his other hand, fingers delving to where your hip fits perfectly into his hold, San begins peppering kisses on your abdomen, you falling apart into a tense, sensitive mess at the cause of his touch.

“Can you feel how my fingers and lips feel against your skin?” 

You weakly nod, his thumb chafing over your skin, as San gets his hand out and touches you everywhere.

“Words, sun. Your pretty voice, I need it to continue, alright?”

“Yes, Sann–”, you answer, but you shudder, when San lets his digits dangle over your breast, ghost-like little grazes spreading over your torso, shoulders tucking in by themselves, as you feel it run over your back like your wings are expanding, “nngh-nie…”

“So soft, aren’t you, sun? So soft for me,” your boyfriend murmurs against your fuzzy tummy, and hooks his fingers into your waistband. You were intending to hum a forlorn ‘mhm’ to answer him again, but it comes out whimpered, after San lets his thumb, which is still anchored to your hand, slither over your cunt, his thumb tickling over your now even more sensitive nub.

“Can you feel how warm you are?”, he whispers, becoming a bit greedier with the kisses he’s spreading down your pelvis-bone, accompanying how carefully he’s sliding your clothing off, your skin being more and more revealed to his eye, while you live with the uncertainty of darkness in front of yours. “How do I feel like, Sannie?”, you ask him, hearing your own voice ricochet in your throat, your ears have become more conscious of sound.

“You feel like,” he whispers, and then, when the shorts have reached your knees, and San breathes against where your cunt is soaked in your panties, he purrs, “you’re mine.” 

His voice condenses warmly there, like a sweat, and you clench just by how raw your boyfriend speaks. The thought of him seeing your soaked cunt also just makes you run hot, and if it wasn’t for his elbow keeping you open, you would’ve closed down on him.

“Y- yeah?”, you shudder, as it seems that San is breathing in the lust-sodden heat from between your legs.

“Would you like to say it for me, sun? I would love to hear it…”

“I’m.. I’m y-yours, Sannie,” you choke out, and you are really not meaning to be as shaky as you are, but just when you thought you knew what you were about to get touched at your erogenous area, San has somehow managed to hover over your body and has bit into your lip, the darkness in front of you feeling even more blurry in front of your eyes due to the sudden gesture. “Hmmn–!”

San chuckles. “Aww, relax, sunshine. Trust me, Y/N, okay? I won’t hurt you, but if I do, just tell me. I’ll stop immediately,” he reassures the safety you find yourself in, despite not seeing anything in front of you. As you nod and let out a confident “Yes, Sannie,” with a deep breath in, San hums and pinches your nipples.

“Sannie!”, you whine out, and your voice cracks, when you feel his tongue circle your bud and his eyelashes flutter against your eye-collar, seemingly soothing the little surprise with his warm saliva. “Yes, sunny? Do you want me to stop?”, San asks, his cocky grin unmissable in his voice, his other thumb tickling your nipple.

“N- no, I-I mean–”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His voice is slightly lispy from how your nipples are stuck between his lips, San softly sucking them in, pecking your flesh around with cottony kisses. 

“Yes, good… v-very.” 

“More?”

“Yes, yes, more.”

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” San laughs throatily, and then traces your silhouette, making you even woolier than before, a little squirm leaving your mouth, when his thumb meets your feverish crotch. “Your sounds,” San sighs, and presses his lips against your neck, his upper body slightly weighing into yours, as it seems that he’s holding himself up by grabbing into the backrest of the couch, “are my drug, baby.”

“Mmm-hm,” you answer, trying to keep your mind where his voice leads you, but you’re too busy feeling how San’s fingers sift slowly through your folds, softly, carefully, feeling every inch of slick squelch warmly around his digit. “Fuuuck,” San grunts into your ear, circling his fingertip around your clit, causing you to grab his wrist that has wandered to the top of your head. You have to gulp, and your boyfriend takes it as a sign to go a bit slower on you, but it doesn’t stop San whispering things to make you spiral into a hypnosis. “Fuck, sunshine, you’re so fucking sexy…”

A whimper leaves your opened mouth, as San chuckles in awe and coats his fingers with more of your arousal. “Is this what happens when you watch me play, sun? Getting all wet for Sun Set?”

It feels like your head is going to fall off your neck, when you softly nod up and down, San’s finger continuing to make you clench by stroking over your clit. “Th- this is what happens when,” you murmur, pushing down on his wrist as your lower abdomen continues to flutter and his lips nibble at your neck, his tongue working around a sensitive spot, “wh- when my boyfriend kisses me and then ignores me for an hour…”

“Aww, ignoring you?”, San whispers, easing his fingertip at your entrance, your hot hole immediately tightening around him, “I could never ignore you, my love…”

“Hngh, I don’t think so, Sannie… You were so concentrated on your drums…”

San whispers out, “I’m sorry”, as he curves his finger a little, caressing your inner skin fondly. You feel how thick his digit is and your glutes tense up. It doesn’t stop you from speaking your truths though.

“It’s okay, Sannie… It looked so… fucking… hot.”

“Really?” Your boyfriend gasps, always loving how you sneak in some brass into your words, and sucks lovesomely at your neck, his humming vibrating against your pulse, his finger pushing in through your arousal that gives him an easy entrance. “So say again, I made your head hurt because I’m so ‘fucking hot’, sunny?”

“Mhm,” you answer, and after San’s whole finger curls inside, you mewl out, “you’re the hottest man there is, Sannie– you’re– you’re so hot I don’t know what to do with myself. Only you can make me feel like this…”

“Fuuck…”

Your words seem to rile your boyfriend up very much, it is getting very difficult for San to not immediately run his fingers in and out, maintaining a slow pace that you feel expanding your tightness. “S- Sannie, you… you make me so crazy,” you whine out, his fingertip grazing over your sweet-spot, making you clench, “You make me feel so amazing, y- you are amazing, such a good musician and boyfriend, baby, you’re– nmmmh~!”

San couldn’t help himself and had to finally kiss you, his plump lips encasing your mouth, tongue running over yours the second he’s able to find contact. The warmth of his sweet saliva floods your mouth and you have to moan in some air.

“‘mmmsorry, sunny,” San mumbles, and you’re so sure that there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips, when he knocks his head back. “Couldn’t wait. Hehe.” 

His lips peck yours, as he’s working his finger inside you, rotating it around your deepest spot. Sighs leave your mouth every chance you get, as you try to not be overflowed by the pleasure that’s stirring your guts and cutting off your breath. 

“You feel so good,” you breathe out, “Can you feel it too, Sannie?”

“Hmm?” San is more than a bit out of breath now, warming up the fabric over your eyes with the loud exhaling through his nose. 

“Can you feel how… Can you feel how much I love you?”, you ask, but before San can answer you, you grip into his wrist again, gathering your confidence through your pleasure, “How fucking aroused I am because of you?”

“God, Y/N, I can feel it,” San huffs, and then pants with his cock twitching at your unforeseen blunt courage, “You’re so wet for me… Only for me… Oh, sunshine, I love you so much.” 

Though you can’t see how he’s biting his lip in excitement, San is moving his finger in and out of your hole while shuffling to your lower body, gripping your ankles with his free hand to gently place them over his shoulders.

“Sun, can I eat you out first?”, San asks, his voice running warmly over your abdomen, as he licks his fingers clean, “You can wait for me, can’t you, Y/N?”

“Wait for you–?”, you whirr, feeling exactly how thick and calloused San’s finger is inside you, lubed up by his spit, not being able to feel anything else, “Wait for wh- what?”

“Wait for me to fuck you, because right now, sunshine, I want to, god no, I need to eat you out, please, baby.”

Overwhelmed by his sudden lust-soaked rambling, you’re left with no other chance than to search for San’s neck, trail up his head and grab your boyfriend by his hair, let it tangle between your fingers, as San breathes against your dripping pussy. “Mnhh, do whatever you want tonight, Sannie. I want you to.”

“I want you, Y/N. ‘Want you so fucking much, sun… God, I don’t know how I waited, either.”

You chuckle and feel how the couch brushes against your back, leaving some phantom scratching there, after San pulls you closer by your hips, his forearms stationed around your pelvic bone.

“... So worth though, fuck.”

A sigh escapes your opened mouth, as San licks up your cunt one time, his hot tongue gliding up the wetness with ease. “Hngh,” you grunt, pulling San’s hair, and since your boyfriend hasn’t re-entered his finger, you clench around nothing, needing to be stuffed again, preferably by his cock. 

“You taste so fucking good,” San grunts back, already sounding like he’s drunk and delirious, lapping over your clit with his tongue while panting like a dog, “so so fucking delicious, sunny.”

“S- Sannie, oh my god,” you react to how your boyfriend sprints over your sensitive nub, your heightened senses drowning you in your own slick, as you hear how San’s tongue creates squelching, wet sounds.

“Hmmm? Feels good, huh?”

“Sannie, s-so good, god– you’re so– fuck fuck fuck–”

“What am I?”, San asks tauntingly. It seems he’s found some fun in the manner you’re tripping over your own words at the cause of his tongue. You don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning, you can feel that he’s enjoying himself by how his chuckle heats up your cunt even more. “Tell me, sunny, what am I?”

“You’re so– good! Sannie! Fuck, Sannie, you’re gonna make me–”

“Make you cum? Already?”, San grins, his fingers working you a beat that could only be described as irregular, him pumping in and out and licking you up and down so fast, he leaves you no time to recover from the last thunderous pleasure. “God, I love you so much, ‘m gonna make you cum so fucking often, all the time,” San murmurs, letting his mind roam free, your arousal coating his lips and tongue, while you tug his hair to keep yourself from choking on your own breath, as it becomes more stagnated and needier, filling out your lungs with helpless pleas. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, oh my god,” you whimper, eyes rolling back that you are seeing bliss and bliss only.

“Gonna cum?”, San husks and thrums against your sweet spot until your thighs tense up, “are you cumming, sunny?”, his fingers continuing to ram into you, “cumming for me?”

“Yes, uh- oh my god, yes, yes, yes–”, it splurts out of you, “yes, yes, yes, YES!”

“Thaaaat’s it…”

You push your legs together, San’s head clutched between your thighs, as his tongue runs over your clit that little stars begin to form in front of your unseeing eyes, your first orgasm resonating through your body, his voice vibrating on your cunt.

“Good girl…”

“F- f- fuck,” you whimper, your stomach crunching together, and you feel San’s thumb caress your abdomen, as he places wet kisses all across your pussy.

“Sannie,” you breathe out, falling to the back in exhaustion, as your boyfriend pulls away and kisses all of your legs down to the calves, folding you together even more.

“Yes, sun?”, he asks, and massages your hips. 

“I wanna see you, Sannie...”

“Oh yeah?”, San chuckles. 

You nod and tug at the bandana around your eyes, but it’s too tight. “Please, Sannie, I wanna see you so bad… I wanna see my handsome boyfriend,” you murmur, your cunt still pulsating between your legs, barely recovered from your orgasm.

“Yeah?”, San hums and leans forward, his jeans pressed against your wetness, as he gets his hands behind your head and loosens up the knot. “Careful, sun,” he whispers, kissing your temple, as he slowly removes the fabric from your eyelids, the dimmed lights flickering into your vision.

“There you go,” San hums and slides the bandana away, letting it sit behind your head, as he looks down at you. Your eyes struggle to see immediately and you have to strain your eyebrows, but your boyfriend patiently just watches your pretty face get used to seeing again. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer and blink with some force. San slithers his hand against your neck, his thumb sitting at your jaw, as your eyesight assuredly returns. 

There he is, grinning, just like you expected him to, but what you didn’t expect is how absolutely messy you’ve made him. His red, fiery hair is disheveled, ruffled, sticking out to all kinds of directions, his lips are puffy and still wet from kissing you and eating you out, his thin breath leaving his mouth. 

“Felt good, huh?”, San asks, rather rhetorically,  as you subconsciously lean your face into his handhold, in awe of how handsome your boyfriend is and how lucky you are he’s yours, as his lips peck yours.

“Mhm,” you chuckle, a bit weakly, but with your hands skidding along his sweaty silhouette, it should become quite clear that you’re not finished. “I want more, Sannie, please.”

“Aww, can’t get enough of me?”, your boyfriend croons and lets another hand slide behind your waist to– “I’ll get you all you want, my love,” make you sit on his lap, or rather on his abs, after he tilts his body to the back with you in his arms and scuffs his baggy pants from his legs. 

“Speaking of which, I thought we might wait until we’re home,” San admits and kicks his jeans away, “so I got no condoms on me, sunshine.”

“Mmm, Sannie, you know we’re okay,” you smile and kiss him. “Your bandmates don’t care about stuff like this…”

“Sorry for caring about you?”, San grins and pinches the tip of your nose. “So you’re fine with me just pulling out, yeah?”, he asks, as if you haven’t talked about this over and over again, but you keep on that smile and caress his cheek.

“Yes, Sannie. It’s all okay, and I want you so bad right now, please.”

“Alright,” San smirks and kisses you back, propping up his legs, so you slide onto his crotch.

“How do you want it?”, he asks, and you can feel how hard and throbbing hot he is in his boxer shorts, as you grind on his length. “I-I don’t know, Sannie, I want it all,” you laugh, airily, your slick adding to the wet patch that has been created by his pre-cum.

“You wanna watch me how I fuck into you?”, San prompts, and kisses your collarbones. “Uh-huh,” you sigh and throw your head to the back. “Please fuck me so you can see what a mess you make me, Sannie.”

San laughs. “I already saw that, sun,” he says, playfully teasing you, and gently grabs your legs, so he can lift you up and get his legs away from the couch and his feet on the floor. 

You sit on the couch how a couch is supposed to be used, your back leaning into the cushion, San now standing in front of you, cups his own erection through his boxer shorts, grunting into his hand.

“This is your fault,” he says, snickering, pulling off his underwear, his cock bolting out, after it passes his waistband. “God, Y/N, how could I ever concentrate on my drums when I have my perfect girlfriend sitting in front of me, huh?”

You press your lips together, ignoring the fact that Sun Set can, in fact, concentrate on his drums, but San is merely explaining to you that with every song he plays passionately, uses his all of his body to accompany the music with energy, you, Y/N, live in his mind to excite him. 

San gets your legs between his arms, anchoring your inner knees at his bicep, and your hand works automatically to grab his erection and pump it. 

Realizing you haven’t given him an answer because you were just too amazed by his body, you inhale to speak, but San leans down and kisses you solicitously. 

“Sunshine,” he breathes out, looking you deep in the eye, as his forehead is almost pressed against yours, “can you put it in by yourself?”

You lick your lips, the last kiss lingering ardently on the flesh and lead San’s cockhead to where your cunt is waiting, ready for his girth.

“Sunny,” San grunts, and as your hole stretches out with his pelvis driving inwards, he kisses you on your neckline repeatedly. “I love you so much, I love how you sound, feel and look like, how good you are to me,” he rambles, immediately sinking into a place of pleasure. “I love everything about you, Y/N.”

He may not be a singer, not even a background vocal, but off-stage, San always makes sure you know what a great girlfriend you are by moaning, whimpering and groaning it, sometimes just to himself– mindlessly thrusting into you, or directly into your ear, so his voice buzzes through your head.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you whine, head falling to the back and bouncing against the backrest after his whole length is inside you, “So good, Sannie, please don’t stop.”

San confirms your comfort and hauls his hips backwards to snap inside again with a slight smack against your hamstrings. You both moan and once San has found a steady pace, the room fills with your voices and sounds of your skin meeting in a clap.

“Harder,” you grunt, and this is San’s command he will never not listen to, even when he’s still working his hips in and out of you, figuring out a way to comply immediately. He grins wide and goes through his hair, before he leans deeper into your body, taking a step closer as he does so– repeating your words by chuckling, “harder?”, folding your knees together and pushing them over to the side. 

“Y- yes, please.”

“Harder,” San repeats again, and exhales the word out his mouth, his hand gripping into your hip. “As,” he grunts, thrusting into your cunt with all he’s got, “you,” again, while fixating you in place, “wish,” and again, “my love.”

You both inhale some air, but out of your mouth, it comes out a distorted moan, when San picks up in speed and rams himself into you with no mercy, barely any opportunities to secure yourself on the cushion beneath you. The couch begins to squeak with San’s rough movement, your body being rocked over, and your head becomes light, the expanding tickle in your abdomen binding itself together into a knot of pure pleasure that’s preparing to release. 

Silence is sweet, but clamor can be so savory; the sounds of the springs under the cushions mix up with his stagnated gasping, and with San’s absolute undefeatable sense for rhythm makes it sound like he’s creating a drumbeat with his body, the couch bangs against the wall, increasingly sending your brain into overdrive. San’s cockhead hits the deepest spot in your cunt repeatedly, over and over again, pushing your buttons that makes you feel like your thoughts are leaving your head within your whiny moans.

“Oh, fuuu-uuuck,” you gutter, voicing out your pleasure through all of the rutting, your eyes disappearing behind your head, and San’s neck shimmers in sweat, his Adam’s apple glistening, as he unfalteringly shoves forward and outward, grunts and groans reverberating in his throat. His face is tightened together, mouth remaining open, as he watches you slowly lose it, the prettiest of sounds entering his ear which boost his stamina.

“Fuck, sun, I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers and rams himself through you, his hips working desperately for his release, ignoring how the couch is being unsettled and broken with each of his hard thrusts, and his hand is dug so deep in your hip, the skin has turned slightly red. “Are you cumming?”, he grunts, and despite how much your head is bobbing anyway, you nod and whine out, “yes, yes, yes, Sannie, I’m cumming–!”

Your eyelids feel heavy, and your body floats in orchestral pleasure as you cum on San’s relentless cock, gripping into the couch with your fingernails, as your back arches, cunt tightening around San.

“God, baby, I love you so much, I love you so so much, Y/N, my sunshine, my–”

San pistons his cock into your puffy pussy with an unmeasurable speed, the shrill squeaking of the springs overtoning his needy whines, the banging against the wall being resemblant of his rough body-movement, and droplets of sweat drop of your body, as your boyfriend pulls your over by your hip. His hot cum spurts out and lands on his own abs, as well on your stomach, and you heave in exhaustion, laughing weakly.

His hand pumps out the last drops of ejaculation out his cock, and even if his cock remains hard and twitching, San falls to the front and hugs your sweaty body, kissing your cheek and lip alternately. 

“That was,” you chuckle, watching how San has to brush his drenched mane to the back, “amazing, Sannie.”

“Yeah?”, your boyfriend asks and strokes your shoulder. “You forgive me?”

“Hm?”

“For the headaches, sun. Do you feel better now?”

You snicker and share a short, but very gentle kiss with San. “I feel so good, Sannie, thank  you.”

His dimples pop out and San fetches your clothes, whilst rubbing his head against yours, nuzzling his temple into your scalp. “I’m glad I could relieve you, sunshine.”

San turns his head around and searches for something to clean up the cum with, and all he finds is his bandana on the couch. “Hey, I’ll wash this, alright?”, he laughs, when you send him a judgmental look, and to calm you down he pecks your forehead.

“Help me get my clothes on, please,” you murmur, and as you feel your body going lax, San immediately grabs your underwear, shorts and his hoodie so you don’t feel cold again. “Mm, I should get you more of my stuff,” he smiles, after he’s put the oversized clothing on you, “you look so cute in my hoodie, sunny.”

“Really?”, you answer, voice guttural, feeling a bit sheepish under San’s affectionate gaze, you being the only one that’s clothed, while he remains pretty much naked, skin sweaty and steaming.

“Yes, love, but honestly, you always look amazing, Y/N...” 

Your eyes were drooping down, but you couldn’t have missed how San’s voice was deeper and huskier than it should have been. 

“Baby… Please… I’m exhausted…”

When you squint, San is licking and biting his lower lip and because he is so exposed, you can see how his cock is glistening again, while you can only leave out a sigh. Your boyfriend’s stamina and energy should be studied…

“Sorry, you’re just so hot,” San chuckles out and gets his boxer shorts on. “Body and mind do what they want sometimes.”

“... And you want me, I get it, okay… God, Sannie.”

“Yeah. I want you so much.”

You, sat on the couch, watch him again, Sun Set, how he’s scratching his neck, his impassioned pulse beating in his muscular chest, beating for your gaze, you, his girlfriend’s voice, your words, your entrancing existence, the melody that guides him through his life.

A playful chuckle whirs in the silent practice room, and your eyes meet his, as you look up to San.

“I guess we’ve got to take a shower at home.”

Give me a command, and I'll do what you ask 'Cause my favorite music's your "Uh, uh"

related hard thought "for you(r) love" : read it here

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike pt 1

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable since writing from my own experience is easiest, so I’m not sure if this counts as QPR. Written mostly in spite over all the Alastor smut. And overly innocent reader inserts. I don’t mind some smut but c’mon people.]

[Part 1/2 Word count 5506/12026]

[cw: blood, violence, mild gore, attempted sexual assault, fluff]

Behind every great man is a great woman? Well, behind every sophisticated murderer is an equally charming murderess. Maybe not as accurate a statement but that’s how you and your partner were. You met Alastor during prohibition. You weren’t the headline performer at the speakeasy he liked to frequent. You were attractive but other girls there were more stunning.

What caught his attention was the passion in your voice. You were deep and sultry as New Orlean’s summer nights. Your notes slipped into his core as inevitable as the Big Easy’s flow. Combined with your poise and aura of untouchability, he felt drawn to you. The lean radio host had never felt a pull like this to anyone.

But he noticed other men drawn to you. But they had no appreciation for you, just your flesh and the pleasure they might take from you. So he took to following you home. At a discreet distance; he hadn’t yet introduced himself. At least a dozen times he intercepted ruffians that moved to harm you. They weren’t nearly as cautious and thorough as him.

One night Alastor had just prevented another uncouth man from approaching you and was wiping off his hands when he heard your voice. Not how he normally did, trained and melodic. No this was harsh, panicked. Fuck! Another one?! There really was no end to the lowlifes.

You had screeched at your assailant, “Get your hands OFF ME!” You were shrill enough to make him wince, but only for a second. He was stronger and just gave you a dark grin with more teeth missing than not. “Let’s have some fun babycakes.” He started dragging you to an alley.

You managed to stomp on his foot with your heel. “Augh, you bitch!” He shoved you up against the brick wall. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.

“I believe the lady has made her opinion clear,” came another voice in the foggy night. “Let her go.” The voice was vaguely familiar, something you heard regularly…

It distracted your assailant long enough that you could reach for your hat. It was a tad out of style but had it’s advantages. Namely, needing a nearly foot long hat pin to keep it in place. You pulled the pin out while he looked out at the other man.

“Fuck off before I kill yo-“ his words were cut off by the sharpened steel pin suddenly piercing his eye. You jammed it into his eye socket with all your strength. Maybe you could have hit what little brains he had but the other man ran up to slit the bastard’s throat.

The man gurgled desperately before falling to the ground. He twitched, blood flowing from his neck and eye. You leaned back against the wall, chest heaving.

The tall lean man seemed oddly calm. He cleaned his knife before pulling your hat pin out of the corpse’s head. Blood fountained out from the eye socket as he cleaned the gore off your pin. He turned, presenting you the slim steel by the decorative knob.

“Are you all right cher?” You took the pin back but didn’t replace it. You didn’t want any leftover gore in your hair.

“Alors pas! Give me a moment cher.” You took a few deep breaths and looked up to see a (thankfully dry) red tinged hand waiting for you. You placed your shaking one into it. The owner assisted you to your feet, guiding you away from the ever growing pool of blood.

“Quite a fright you’ve had my dear!” His crisp voice, with its transatlantic accent echoed as he escorted you away.

You shuddered slightly, realizing how bad things could have gotten. “At least it was just a fright. Thanks to you mister…?” You trailed off, still trying to place his voice.

“Alastor.”

Your eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Ah! You’re the radio host!”

“I’m flattered you remember me! I’m afraid I have you at a disadvantage. You are Y/N, correct?” Dazed, you nodded. “I’ve been enthralled by your performances for months now, I had to learn more about you cher.”

“Why thank you, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying them.” Suddenly you felt dizzy and stumbled along the path. Alastor swiftly caught you.

“I believe you’re a tad unsteady after being handled so roughly. May I?” Confused, you nodded and he immediately swept you into a bridal carry. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to escort you home.” He paused and added, “I will need directions of course.”

The thought of a man you just met bringing you home made you flush all over. No matter how gallant he was, the radio host was a stranger. But you didn’t think your legs could support you long enough. “If…if you would please.” You glanced back at the alley. “What do we do about…”

“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed as he strolled away. He had no difficulty carrying you. “I suppose a dead man is an inconvenience but I believe getting you somewhere safe takes priority. Certainly over a lowlife’s corpse.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. You directed him to your apartment, amazed that he was able to carry you that long and with ease. Once there, you allowed him inside. Once inside with a lamp lit, you realized what a mess both were. Your coat was splattered with blood and grime. Your dress was stained wherever the coat hadn’t covered it and your hat was long gone. The hat pin in your hand was mostly clean, but you spotted some blood and gore by the finial. Your shoes weren’t worth mentioning.

Seeing the result of your ordeal made the bile rise in your throat. You barely made it to the sink before vomiting. Thankfully you hadn’t eaten before leaving work so it was just bile. You faintly heard clinking and water being poured. Alastor appeared with a glass of water for you. “Ma cher, you look like you need a wash up. If you like, I can stay in the main room or I can make my way home. I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe.”

You found yourself asking him to stay as you cleaned up. Maybe you were being naive but he did just save you and you felt he didn’t have anything untoward in mind. When you asked about him, he merely chuckled and told you not to worry.

After you were cleaned and dressed in a nightgown and housecoat (and had added a torrent of tears to the bathwater) you emerged to find Alastor reading the newspaper in a chair. He’d made jambalaya for you both. “My mother’s recipe! So good it nearly killed her!” he quipped. Once you’d eaten you couldn’t keep your exhaustion at bay.

“You’re welcome to spend the night Alastor. I’d hate to send you home in the middle of the night.” The only problem was there was only one bed, yours.

“That is much appreciated Y/N. I can make myself comfortable in the front room for one night. I’ll leave you to rest while I clean up myself.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles and murmured “Bonne nuit, cher.”

Alastor left your sleeping form and made use of your washroom. He cleaned up methodically; it wasn’t the first time he’d had to wash up after a kill. His jacket was ruined, but at least the rest of his clothes were in decent enough shape. At least he wouldn’t scandalize anyone on the way home tomorrow.

Still, he was surprised that you had fought back as much as you had. Evidently that passion from your songs emerged elsewhere too. And the way you dispatched your attacker… he shivered at the beauty of it. The unexpected metal gleam in your hand, the furiously graceful arc as you swung and your perfect aim into the lowlife’s eye.

Alastor wasn’t much interested in pleasures of the flesh, he never had been and wasn’t still. He wanted to see more of you like that. Not scared and in need of rescue, but the hunter he recognized in your eyes.

“It seemed the songbird I’ve admired has talons.”

—————

The next morning you insisted on making breakfast; biscuits and gravy. Alastor seemed to enjoy it but he didn’t leave after eating. You thought he would need to get home before heading to the radio station. When you asked he said he was staying “just in case.”

Just before lunch there was a knock at your door. Alastor was closer so he answered it, almost like he was expecting it. Two policemen stood on the other side. “What can we help you with officers?” Alastor asked jovially.

“Is this the home of a Miss Y/N?” At your affirmative nod, the stockier of the two continued, “We’d like you to come down to the station Miss. We have some questions to ask you.”

“Ah, this must pertain to the dreadful ordeal my dear Y/N went through last night,” Alastor interjected. “Ma cher, why don’t you grab your things and I’ll accompany you.”

“And who might you be?” The lanky officer asked.

“Alastor, my good man. You may have tuned into my radio show!” He smiled thinly as the short one had a flicker of recognition. “I rendered some assistance to Y/N, so it’s probably best if I’m there as well. It would save you gentlemen a trip to my home to escort me in for questions, ha ha!”

By then you had your shoes and bag ready. “Dear you look lovely. Do you have your pin from last night, I’m sure these gentlemen will want to examine it.”

“Oh, that’s an excellent point Alastor.” You placed it in your bag, making sure the cover was on the tip.

Once at the station, you found out the trail from your attacker’s body to your apartment was fairly obvious. Some blood on the bottom of Alastor’s shoes led the way. As for what happened:

“The man accosted me on my way home. I tried to fight back, but he was ever so much stronger. It seems I was loud enough to grab Alastor’s attention. I’m so grateful he stepped in! The beast was distracted and I was able to get ahold of my hat pin. My mother always said not to leave without one and she was right! I meant to just scratch him but I’ve never had to do such a thing before; I hit his eye instead. Before I could do anything else Alastor was between us and then the ruffian was dead.”

“Indeed! I heard Y/N order the lout to release her and I ran up to assist. I had just been dealing with another lowlife who had also been following her. To think there are so many ne’er-do-wells on our streets! In any case, I dispatched the man and assisted Y/N home.” You hadn’t realized there had been another man following you. You shivered at the thought.

“And why were you in the area Mr. Alastor? Records show that neither your home or place of employment are in that area.”

Alastor’s eye twitched but his smile never faltered. “I’d had a lovely evening at the jazz club and felt a late night stroll was in order. I wasn’t even paying attention to where my feet were taking me! Perhaps it was providence guiding my way so I might save the lady’s virtue.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

“I could barely manage to walk, I was in such a state. Alastor had to carry me home; I was in no condition to report anything, officers.”

“The lady had been assaulted on her way home and forced to defend herself. I felt it would be unworthy of a gentleman to leave her alone in her time of need.”

After a barrage of questions and a thorough examination of your hatpin, Alastor’s knife and the minor injuries you had suffered while being manhandled, the officers let you both go. They would provide all the evidence to the district attorney. But it seemed unlikely that either of you would be charged. You had been defending yourself and Alastor had defended you.

The charming radio host escorted you back home. “Won’t you be late for work at this point?” His broadcast covered a good portion of the afternoon and early evening.

“Hmm, perhaps.” He patted your hand nestled into the crook of his arm. “I still feel your wellbeing is more important however, my dear.” You felt a blush warming your cheeks. “On that subject, I believe you’re due to perform again tonight?” You nodded, he really did enjoy your performances if he knew your schedule. “I believe I will go mad with worry cher, might I escort you there and back home?”

This man was insinuating himself into your life so easily. Perhaps killing a man together had that effect. “Please do Alastor. I don’t believe I will be able to go on my own after yesterday.” You had reached your apartment while talking. “Then I shall return after I complete my broadcast. Until tonight cher.” He kissed your knuckles and saw you through the door before leaving. You turned on your radio and tuned the dial to Alastor’s station. About ten minutes after his broadcast normally began you heard the crackle of his voice.

“Salutations listeners! Thank you for your patience ladies and gentlemen, I know everyone has been eagerly awaiting the show. I am Alastor, a pleasure to be sharing this time with you all.” You sighed in relief. You would have felt terrible if helping you jeopardized Alastor’s job.

You left the radio on, letting his voice fill the apartment while you took care of minor tasks. Eventually he signed off with his normal outro “Until next time dear listeners, thank you and goodnight!” You didn’t know how long it would take for him to get from his station to your apartment but you felt it best to finish getting ready.

So you were dressed for the evening when he arrived. That was the start of a new routine for you both. Alastor walked you to work and back, enjoying the illicit beverages and your voice. Sometimes he would stay the night in your front room but he mostly dropped you off before making his way home.

He was a lovely conversationalist and those walks were much more cheerful than they had been. You felt easy around him in a way that was foreign but fulfilling. Eventually your friends and coworkers at the speakeasy asked if you two were courting.

You honestly couldn’t answer. You’d never had a beau before. According to friends over the years, you had been asked out by a lot of fellows and turned them all down. Was that why none of those men talked to you again? Apparently you hadn’t realized their intentions.

One night, a couple months after the attack, you mentioned this to Alastor. “Isn’t that strange, cher? They think we’re a couple!”

He stopped dead, his lips barely keeping their ever present smile as the rest of his features went blank. “Is…is this what courtship is?” He blinked down at the hand in the crook of his arm, the high heeled feet he had shortened his stride to keep in step with, the new gleaming hat pin he’d gifted you.

“I…am not really sure. I’ve never had a beau before.” You looked up at him, seeing the lips that gently kissed your knuckles every time you parted, the dark auburn hair you would stroke when he was stressed, the patterned bow tie you had given him the same day he gave you the pin. “Although, if this is what courting is, I’m glad it’s with you Alastor.”

“Hmm…” he resumed walking, this time humming one of the songs you sang that night. Once at your place, he finally replied. “I believe I agree with you my dear. Since we are a couple it seems, I’m glad it’s with you, Y/N.” He not only gave your hand a kiss, but leaned down to kiss your cheek as well. “I suppose you can tell your friends tomorrow they were correct. Bonne nuit, ma cher.”

Roughly a month later, Alastor was spending the night in your apartment when you felt the need to ask a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Alastor, cher,” you sat next to him, pulling his attention from the book he was reading. “Had…have you killed other people before that night?”

He froze, which really was all the answer you needed. “Are you still?”

For a man so glib, it took him a moment to find his silver tongue. “And if I am?” He choked out. “What will you do, Y/N?”

You studied him, making sure not to move and not to touch him. “I would ask what sort of people they are. And if they are of the same mold as the men who attacked me…then I’d also ask you to be careful, cher.”

He relaxed slightly. “Unfortunately there are a great many like-minded men in the world, although a few less in this city in the past few years.” He paused. “I can’t help myself dear. I see them acting as they do and feel the need to remove them from this life.”

Gently, you placed a hand over his. “I can hardly blame you for that. Especially after you saved me.” Your other hand turned his head to look into your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me, Alastor.”

The man was usually so composed; it was kind of cute to see him so surprised. He then cupped your cheek and lightly kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into the kiss.

It was one kiss and it didn’t last long. Pulling back from each other, he licked his lips while you pressed your fingertips to yours. “That was quite nice.” Despite singing so many songs about love, you had never been eager to try out all the steps of romance.

“Indeed it was. Shall we add that to our list of favorable courting actions?” You smiled and pulled out a paper, a fourth of the way filled with a list. You added “kisses on lips” to it.

Before too long, you were helping him with his activities. Initially you assisted in the clean up, but then you started taking part in the kills. Alastor admired your channeled fury and impeccable aim. You admired his precision and calculated execution. The two of you had to be sparing with your activities however. You didn’t want to draw suspicion. The kills were never closer than a week from each other.

Roughly a year after you met Alastor, the subject of marriage came up. It was while you two were disposing of another uncouth man; he made the mistake of trying to get you away from your beau and received knife stabs from both of you. You no longer had to rely solely on your hat pin; you had a stiletto blade of similar size now. Alastor finished covering the body in dirt; he refused to let you help with digging at all. Instead you kept an eye out as he did.

You provided him with a cloth to clean off the dirt. “Merci, ma cher.” Once he was ready you put it back into your bag and linked arms with him. As you walked together, satisfied, he asked, “Y/N, shall we get married?”

The question caught you off guard and you stumbled forward. Just like that first night, he caught you smoothly and lifted you into his arms. “ Alastor, darling, where is this coming from?”

“Some at the radio station inquired as to our relationship. I was informed that a successful courtship as ours generally results in a marriage.” He hummed as he carried you. “After some thought, I realized the prospect of wedding you is…very appealing.”

You nestled into his embrace. “I haven’t given it any thought. It would make life simpler, you wouldn’t have to dash around between our homes and work.” You mulled it over. You would like seeing him every morning instead of on occasion. The thought of your dresses next to his suits in the wardrobe, helping each other clean up after a kill, relaxing quietly on the couch while you both read… “Yes. Let’s get married Alastor. I’d like that.”

He smiled down at you, looking oddly tender considering what the two of you had been doing just half an hour ago. He leaned down to kiss you softly. “Let’s get you home and we’ll work out all the details tomorrow, my dear.”

Initially the two of you planned something simple. But once both your and his coworkers got wind of the nuptials, they insisted on a grand party. Apparently they all felt the two of you were adorably hopeless. Neither of you had realized how invested those around you were in your relationship. You and Alastor concluded that resisting your friends well-wishes was as pointless as resisting a hurricane.

So while the ceremony was a small affair, the party after was held at your club and lasted deep into the night. The proprietors had managed to get a bottle of champagne for you and Alastor. Despite it being your wedding reception, you couldn’t help performing one of Alastor’s favorite songs. He then kept you on the dance floor the majority of the evening. He danced as well as he talked. It was a good thing you’d had over a year as his primary dance partner.

You heard some ribald jokes about his stamina. At least that’s what they sounded like. You still couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered much to either of you. All you cared about was your husband was having a great time, out dancing everyone in the building. Once it was time to leave, he carried you into a cab, then carried you into his home.

Despite what the guests had suggested, he was tired after all that. Frankly you were too. So once divested of all the fancy clothing, he tucked you into the bed and climbed in next to you.

For the first time since you met him, he looked nervous in the faint starlight. Of course. This was so far beyond both of your experiences. You probably looked the same. “Alastor? May I?” You held out your arms to him. He gave you a nod and you embraced him, slowly nestling your body against his. “Let me know if it’s too much, cher,” you murmured as he wrapped his arms around you.

He started to relax with you. His breathing matched yours, your heartbeat synchronized with his. You felt his arms growing heavy, their grip softening. Alastor nuzzled your hair and kissed the crown of your head. “Thank you for marrying me, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Thank you as well Alastor,” you replied before drifting off to sleep.

The two of you did have sex eventually. The first time was a few weeks after the wedding. You were both back to work after a brief honeymoon; when you got back the other singers, the band, even the bartender were all curious about your bedroom activities. They surrounded you while Alastor was conversing with another patron. When all you talked about was how nice falling asleep with him was and the cute sight of him sleeping as the sun rose, they stared at you slack jawed.

Your coworkers consulted amongst themselves. You heard snippets of “do we need to explain this too, did no one tell them about that, they’re both such lookers too, I don’t wanna tell her, you do it, no you, I ain’t gonna tell her.”

After some discussion it seems Mimzy, another singer was appointed to talk to you. “Y/N, sweetie, doll, did your mama ever tell you about the birds and the bees?” She guided you to the bar and requested drinks for you both.

“Mimzy! I do know about sex. Gracious, I’m aware of adult urges and where babies come from.” You threw back your drink. The curvy blonde breathed a sigh of relief; at least she didn’t need to go over the basics.

“That is usually what a honeymoon is for dearie.” Mimzy tossed back her own drink. “Look cutie, what you and your mister do at home is your business, but your friends don’t want you missing out! You two are good together; I’ve never seen either of ya this happy before.” She downed another drink before hopping over to the stage.

Alastor came up to your side. “Looks like your friends are all in a tizzy dear.” You smiled up at him. “Did you have a strange conversation with your colleagues today too?”

“Ah yes,” he leaned on his new cane, a wedding gift. “Concerning my bedroom prowess and your presumed enjoyment thereof.” You couldn’t help but laugh huskily. “The station manager even told me to ‘remember my duties as a husband.’”

You gave him a peck on the cheek. “I believe you’re going above and beyond your duties cher.” He kissed your hand and held it while the two of you listened to Mimzy’s set. “I’d best get up there darling.” You gave his hand a squeeze before going to take the stage.

You sang a mix of familiar tunes and a couple new ones you’d picked up on the honeymoon. To finish the performance, you sang the same number from your wedding night, which you had come to think of as Alastor’s song. Many of the patrons were familiar with the two of you, so listening to you sing to your husband made a number of them go misty eyed.

Once back at home, Alastor cleared his throat while unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you want to, cher?”

You continued to remove your jewelry. “Perhaps one day.” You applied cold cream to remove your makeup. “And you cher? Do you want to?” You asked back as you wiped your face clean.

He was putting up his suit, more intent on making sure it lined up on the hanger than usual. “Perhaps one day,” he echoed. He stopped fiddling with the suit and stood there in his underclothes. Alastor’s ever present smile was still there but his eyes looked lost.

You finished your nightly routine and went to him, asking gently before taking both his hands in yours. “Ma cher, when have we ever been a normal couple? We already have almost a full page of physical affections we enjoy. If we want to see if sex will be on that list one day we can. But not unless we both want to try it.” His smile became more genuine and he pressed both of your hands to his lips. “Thank you my dear.”

You gave him a playful look and started humming the opening bars to his song. Alastor gave you a quizzical look back as you started singing it. Before the first verse was over you pulled him into an impromptu dance. In the privacy of your bedroom, you and your husband danced into the night to your voice. To your delight, he joined you in duets and sang a solo for you as you slow danced together.

“Ah, my sweet songbird. I am glad I married you.”

“I’ve never really seen myself as a songbird before. If anything…” your eye caught sight of your hat pins on your vanity, “more of a shrike.” He looked at you in surprise. “A butcher-bird,” you clarified.

“No no, I’m aware. I never thought of that comparison for you. It fits though, they’re pretty little killers that impale their victims.”

“I’m glad you agree darling. Now, we should get some rest.” You put out the light and pulled him into bed. There was a bit of hesitation on his part as he laid down. But he was soon settling into what was becoming your normal sleeping positions: you nestled against his side with his arms around you.

A few days after that, he asked if you’d like to give sex a try that night. You didn’t have any problems with the idea so almost a month after your wedding the two of you tried it.

Of course you were both terribly awkward; Alastor pulled your hair more than once and you elbowed him in the neck. But the two of you managed it. Multiple times that night in fact. Evidently that was what those stamina comments were about. Afterward, as he held you close Alastor mused. “Hmmm, that was rather enjoyable. I still don’t understand everyone’s fascination but I’m not opposed to the occasional romp as they say. What did you think darling?”

You thought back. “Once we figured things out it was fun. I agree though, I don’t understand why everyone is so obsessed about it. It’s rather messy in the end. And I think we can add it to our list, as an occasional activity.”

He chuckled. “You can add it tomorrow.”

The next day, you joined the other singers chatting before the sets started. One of them was gushing over her new beau and you realized this was a great opportunity to let them know. “Alastor and I had sex last night,” you stated, cheerful and straightforward. Again with the slack jawed looks. “Multiple times actually. I’m glad I’m in such good shape, it was more exertion than I expected.”

After a beat one of the girls asked “Well? How was it?”

“Hm? Oh! It was fun. My legs are pretty tired so I don’t think I’ll be dancing much tonight though. Alastor enjoyed it too, so we decided to do it again someday.” You heard the band warming up. “I’m up first tonight, best get up there.”

As you left the group they started talking rapidly to each other. “Do you think they actually did? Don’t see why not, they are the strangest couple I’ve ever met, at least they’re strange together, I thought for sure one of them would be more excited about doing it…”

Your lives settled into a comfortable routine together. You both continued with your jobs; his broadcast was quite popular and as you increased your skill and song repertoire, you became more successful in the nightlife scene. He accompanied you everywhere which was exactly how you liked it. Every so often the two of you would kill a ne’er-do-well or three. Occasionally you had intercourse. You often danced together, both at the club and at home.

This continued for a number of years. By now almost everyone around you was used to the idiosyncrasies in your marriage and just didn’t question it.

One night in late summer the pair of you were in the woods, hiding the latest kill. As you kept watch in the humid air, Alastor was dumping dirt over the corpse. “Are you sure you don’t need help cher?”

He grunted while lifting more dirt. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I made my darling wife fill a hole like this?” You could only shake your head in amusement. You shifted your feet but lost your footing in the process. Both legs swept out beneath you and you landed firmly on your rear. You did your best not to cry out in case your voice carried.

“Cher!” Alastor dropped the shovel to help you up. “Are you alright Y/N?” You nodded as you grabbed his outstretched hand. “Just slipped, I’ll be fine Alastor.”

You looked up at your husband and noticed that the branches of the nearby trees gave him the illusion of antlers. You were about to mention it when the sharp crack of a rifle rang out and suddenly his forehead blossomed into a spray of blood and brain matter. “ALASTOR!” His name ripped from your throat. He couldn’t hear it though; his smile was wiped away as his body dropped to the ground.

“Aw shit! I thought he was a deer!” The man who killed your husband yelled out, realizing what he’d done. You screeched and ran in the direction of the voice, pulling your hat pin out as you did so. The hunter wasn’t far. You leapt at him, screaming and crying. He was bigger than you but he wasn’t expecting a furious murderess to launch herself at him at full speed. He fell to the ground with you straddling his chest and you plunged the hat pin, the one Alastor gave you for your last anniversary, into the man’s eyes and throat. Over and over you shoved the steel into his face. The blood spray and viscera didn’t scare you anymore.

You faintly heard, “Jesus Mary and Joseph crazy bitch!” through your own screaming. You whirled in that direction to see the second hunter aiming his own rifle at you. You started to move toward him when you felt an intense pain at your brow, followed by nothingness.

—————

Part 2

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎~! ~

💜👻🧡👻💜👻🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟸: 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷,𝟺𝟿𝟻

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠?

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 <𝟹

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝙴𝙴𝙴𝙴𝙴𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙴🕺🏾✨!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Remind me why I’m here again?” Donnie said as he stood in the middle of his youngest brother’s room, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently, “I have very very important work that I need to get to ASAP.” 

“Oho yeah?” Mikey giggled as he sat on his bed, resting his cheek on his palm, “What work?” 

Donatello huffed, glancing to the side of him, “Just plain old work, Mikey. Now tell me why I’m here so I can be on my merry way.” 

“With pleasure.” The box turtle grinned, going under his bed to get a closed cardboard box, “Y'know that since The Invasion I’ve been able to use my cool mystic hands sometimes, right?”

“I’m aware.” The older nodded. 

“Well, Barry’s been teaching me to control it and use it for the past couple of months. And I wanna see how much I’ve improved!” Michelangelo smiled, turning back to his brother.

The turtle in purple nodded in understanding, dropping his crossed arms as he put a hand on his hip, “So…where do I come to play in all of this?” The softshell asked.

“I wanna test how good I’ve gotten! And you’re the perfect person to test this tactic on.” The light scarlet eyed teen mused, turning back around to open the box, “And besides, you’ve been grumpy all week…you need this.” He mumbled to himself.

The scientist cocked his head to the side, “What was that last part?”

“Nothing!” The youngest said innocently, getting two feather’s from the box and giving them to his brother; one in each hand. 

“…Feathers.” Donnie deadpanned as he raised a confused brow.

“Feathers!” Mikey repeated. 

“…So…I’m just going to hold up these feathers for…how long?” The elder asked.

“Just hold the two feathers up and I’ll take care of the rest!” The smaller turtle smiled, a small orange hue glowing around a singular feather in the box. 

The now orange hued feather floated towards the softshell, gliding across his right side.

Donnie let out an embarrassing short squeal, dropping his arms as me marched over to his brother on the bed. Mikey raised an amused eye ridge, floating another feather to his older brother’s other side.

The purple banded turtle bit his lip, squirming as his knees buckled together. “I-I did— GHK! I-I did no— HNGK!! I did n-not agree t-t-to this!!!” He seethed. 

“Uhuh…yehes you did.” Mikey snickered, “I’d advise you to keep your arms up, big bro.”

“A-And why— ACK! Is that?!” Donatello glared.

“Well you see…if you put your arms down I’d have nooooo choice but to take the feathers you’re holding and let them join their friends in tickle tickle tickling you~!” The scarlet eyed teen smiled sweetly.

“WHAT?!” The young scientist gasped, going back to stomping to his baby brother, “Mikey I hAVE w-work to do and I— AUGH!!!” He screeched, going to the ground as the two floating feather’s made their way to his ribs. “Nohoh! Cohohome ohan!!” 

Donnie shook his head whilst kicking his legs on the carpet, trying to not give his brother the reactions he was seeking.

The softshell had work to do! He didn’t have time for these foolish games…!

But underneath his cursing and scowls…he really did enjoy this— I mean whaaaaat…? Now who said that?!

“Ihi HAHATE YOHOU!!” The purple banded teen shouted as his little brother glided the feather’s across his underarms, “YOHOU’RE E-EHEEVIL! THIHIS IHIS EHEEVIL IHI SAHAHAY!!”

“Is it really~?” The box turtle hummed. 

“YEHES! YEHES IHIT— hic IHIS!” The other laughed, shooting his arms down and hugging his middles, the two feather’s he was once holding now on the floor. 

“Uh oh~! You put your arms down, Dee~! Y'know what that means~!” The youngest teased, a light and sparkly orange hue now surrounding the two dropped feathers, the both of them tauntingly floating around the taller turtle.

“Now~! Where should they go~?” The smaller turtle teasingly asked.

The young genius shook his head frantically, “NOHOWHERE! F-FUHUHUCKING NOHOWHERE!” 

“Mr. and Mrs. Feather don’t like your cussing, Don-bon~!” 

“WEHELL TEHEHELL THEM— hic! TOOHOO FUHUCK OHOHOFF!!” Donnie hiccuped as he kicked his feet helplessly on the ground; trying to at least get the feathers off.

Another wonderful reason for him to hate mystic stuff…

“Dee~! Your arms aren’t raised~! Raise them up for me, please~!” The orange banded mutant mused.

“NOHOH! NOHOH WAHAY IHIN HEHELL!!” The light golden eyed teen squawked.

“No~?” Mikey taunted as he grazed a single feather across Donnie’s shell with his mystic powers, “EEEEHEEEP!! OKAHAY! OKAHAHAY! KEEHEEP THAHAT AWAHAHAY!!”

“Then put your arms up!” The younger said innocently, moving the feather’s down to the other’s plastron area. 

The young genius groaned through his giggles, clenching his teeth as he begrudingly raised his arms up above his head once again, “Cohohount yohour hic dahahays…” 

“Uno reverse, Donald.” The box turtle grinned, making four more feathers glide all across the softshell’s tummy. 

“GYAHAH— hic!! MYHYHY hic! NO! NOHO NONOHAHAH— hic!! GEHET THEHEM AHAHOUT!! GEHET THEHEM AHAHOUT!!” 

“Whaaaat~?” Michelangelo hummed.

“G-GEHEHET THEHEM AHA— hic! OHOHOUT!!!” The elder cried, stomping his feet repeatedly on the ground as he struggled to keep his arms up.

“But why, Tickle Tello~?” The box turtle mutant cooed, slowly walking over to his brother.

The purple banded turtle’s face turned a bright red at the tease; not even trying to put on a tough face facade anymore as he caved into the tickles, “DOHOHON’T hic CAHALL MEEHEE THAHAT hic hic YOHOU ASSHOLE!!”

“Okay, Tickle-Tello.” The smaller teen smiled innocently, sitting next to his older brother that was laughing his absolute shell off.

“Do you remember what we agreed on~?” Michelangelo asked. 

“NOHO— hic! N-NOHOH PUHUHUTTING MY AHARMS DOWN!! IHI GAHAT IHI— hic!! IHIHIT!!!” The light golden eyed teenager squawked. 

“Oh? Then why are you, hm~?” The youngest asked as he pinched the other’s hip mercilessly, resulting in the taller one to shoot his arms down almost immediately, pushing on his brother’s wrists. 

Donnie understood the rules…he really did! 

But this was just plain unfairness at this point.

“MIHI— hic! THAHAHAT’S CHEEHEEATING YOHOU— hic! B-BIHIG CHEEHEEATER!!!” Donnie squealed, his glasses falling off of his face due to the fact he was wriggling snd giggling so much.

The art loving turtle giggled, casually yawning and stretching as if there wasn’t someone literally dying of laughter beside him. 

“It’s not my fault you put your arms down.” Mikey commented smugly.

“YEHEHES IT hic IHIS!! IHIT IS!! IT hic IHIHIS— hic IT IHIHIHIS!!!” Donatello howled. 

“Oh? Is it~?” The box turtle asked, wiggling his fingers above his older brother’s thighs. The purple banded mutant’s eyes widened as he kicked his legs desperately on the floor in a small attempt to keep his little brother away…

…But who is he kidding?

When has that ever worked?  

“NAHAH— hic! NAHAHO!! AHANGEHELO hic hic PLEHEASE I-IHI’M SOHO hic SORRY!! Hic HAHAVE MERCY!!!” The softshell screamed as he hugged his middles tighter.

Mikey snickered lightly at the other’s plead, squeezing his brother’s thighs as the other threw his head back in complete hysterics. 

Happy tears rolled down Donnie’s face as his hands curled to fists, banging on the carpet floor as his legs stomped.

“Awe~! Someone looks like they’re having fun~!” Michelangelo giggled. 

“IHIHI’M NAHAHAT!!” The taller turtle protested loudly.

“You sure~?”

“YEHE— HIC!! YEHEHES MYHY GAHAHAD!!!”

“You positive~?”

“YEHEHES!!!”

“D'aww…that’s a shame~! Maybe this’ll help~!” The younger cooed in a fake pity voice as he lightly nibbled on his brother’s stomach whilst kneading the softshell’s thighs. 

The softshell in question wheezed loudly in result, pushing on the other’s plastron as the feathers quickened in speed, “OHOHAH— HIC!! MYHYHY GAHAHAD YOHOU AHARE HIC SUHUCH HIC AHAN AHASSHOHOLE!!!”

“And you’re digging yourself into an even deeper hole.” Michelangelo retorted as his elder brother let out the most loudest squeal known to man. 

“MIHIHIKEY!!!” Donnie cried.

“Yeeeeees~?” The youngest smirked.

“EEHEE— HIC!!! EEHEENOUGH! HIC EHENOUGH! E-EHENOHOUGH!!!” 

“Aw~!! But I didn’t even get to tickle your shell yet~!” The other pouted, wriggling his fingers near the taller’s shell.

“MIHICHELAHAHANEGLO!!!” The older screeched. 

“Okahay, okay, drahahama queen.” The scarlet eyed mutant chuckled, snapping his fingers which resulted in all the feather’s going back into the box. 

The smallest turtle helped his brother up, giving him a small glass of water he got prior. “Lihihike Ihi hic sahahaid: cohount. yohour. dahahays.” Donatello grumbled through his giggles.

The orange banded turtle rolled his eyes fondly, putting the now closed box underneath his bed once again, “Oh~? So does that mean you wouldn’t wanna help me the next time I practice my mystic powers?”

“…I-I nehever sahaid thahat…” The light golden eyed teen huffed.

“Soooooo, same time next week?” The smaller teen grinned knowingly.

“…Whahatever.” The taller said, quickly turning away and leaving the room to try and hide the evident genuine smile slowly morphing to his face. 

Michelangelo rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on his bed as he scrolled through his phone ever-so casually, “Same time next week it is, then.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 14

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“I do not believe you have amnesia,” said Ember.  “I do not believe you have amnesia.  How are you so freaking–”

Phantom beaned Ember in the face with a seat cushion.  It might have been soft, but Ember didn’t exactly check to make sure that no one put gum under them after concerts.  

“LESS TALKING MORE SINGING!” Technus shrieked electronically. “NANOBOT ATTACK!”

“No!” said Skulker.  “Not the freaking–”  

A swarm of robots descended from vents in the ceiling.  Toy robots.  Brightly colored, with rounded edges.  They had lasers.  Ones that stung.  

“Ouch!” said Phantom.  

“Augh!” squeaked Ember.  

“Goddamn–” shouted Skulker before being borne under the colorful swarm.  

“BEHOLD, MY ROBOT ARMY!”

Freaking Leeroy-Jenkins-looking–

Phantom shoved them to the sides of the room with a wave of ecto-energy. 

“Hey, speaking of that, do you know Vlad?”

“Speaking of what?” demanded Ember, pulling gum out of her hair.  She was going to kill him for that.  “Freaking robot armies?  Are you going to tell us that Plasmius has a robot army?”

“AND HE DIDN’T BUY IT FROM ME?”

“Of course he wouldn’t!  Ol’ Plaz is a loser but he knows about malware.”

“No, I mean, like, I learned that move from him,” said Phantom.  “And, like, it does seem like all of you guys know each other, yeah?  I’m the point of contact, probably, but still–”

“Actually, no,” said Ember.  “Skulker’s been working for Plasmius for ages.”  Skulker had also clawed his way out of the robots and was now sneaking up on Phantom rather effectively.  

Except, suddenly, it wasn’t so effective.  Phantom twisted, reached back, hooked his fingers under the edge of Skulker’s helmet and heaved.  Skulker’s head popped off cleanly before soaring across the auditorium.  

Phantom stared after it for a moment, then shrieked, loudly.  “His head!  Oh, gosh, his head.”

Okay, maybe the dipstick did have amnesia.  

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to–  His head came off.  His head.  Is he– He’s already dead, is he–  I didn’t mean to hurt– to end–”  The main part of Skulker’s armor fell over with a clatter.  

“Oh my god,” said Ember, flying over to Skulker.  The actual Skulker.  In the pilot’s seat in the helmet.  Usually she wouldn’t do this, but Phantom looked like he was about to cry.  She picked him up and yanked him out of the helmet.  “This is Skulker.  He just likes to stomp around in a suit of armor, ‘cause he’s compensating for something.”

“Hey!” squealed Skulker.  

“It’s a mecha!” chimed in Technus, proudly.  “My own design!”

“That’s… actually pretty cool,” said Phantom.  “But I think– I think I need to– Go home.  And lie down or something.  Have a, um, a good one.  We’ll hang out later.  Or fight.  Yeah.”  He hit a button on his weird necklace pocketwatch and disappeared.  

“Well,” said Ember.  “That was anticlimactic.”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of was.”

“Wanna keep fighting?” she asked.  

“YES!”

[hana-no-seiiki]

yandere! rich! nerd oc x poor! popular! gn! reader short - midnight darling

guess who got recently got accepted into the biology course in ateneo and is binge watching gilmore girls as inspo? (it’s me. on cloud 9 rn augh-) have this as my tiny celebration. been a while since i wrote for midnight darling ehe.

starting our pride month posts w/ our genderfluid masochist nerd who technically is the most popular oc of mine, isaiah/Isabel!

cw/tw: bullying, harassment, toxic parents

status: unedited and rushed af

“Papatayin na talaga kita.”

You weren’t always the perfect pristine popular student. Acting didn’t come to you naturally. You had to learn through trial and error; through fire and metal. You didn’t always had an iron grip over your emotions and what slipped through.

As such, at that moment you first met Isaiah — who now went by another name — you couldn’t help but shower them with the hostility of cat seeing another enter its territory.

“I - I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to —!”

“When I make promises, I follow through with them.” You covered their mouth before he could even complete his stupid waste of an excuse, “I promised to bring you hell when you broke my project last semester, and I did.”

You recount the days you spent making sure Isaiah experienced true suffering; getting rid of their friends, destroying his family’s fortunes, putting his reputation through the mud and stomping on it til it bleeds so that even if you did nothing the rest of the students in your school would do the job for you.

But even then…

“I promised to the entire student body — to this entire school that I will be the one that uplifts it. That I will make it known throughout the country as the one that miraculously got a student to Mediasnoches.”

Tears escaped your eyes. How long has it been since the last time you legitimately cried? It had been so long that you started to think you were simply completely incapable of it. How could you cry when you were too busy to even feel? Hours and hours spent on studying, making notes, reviewing those notes at least ten times, making flashcards and schedules, drowning yourself in extracurriculars. Your schedule just didn’t have space to be a sobbing mess.

“I promised my mom and dad . . . na kahit ano man mangyari — ma . . .matatanggap . . . “ Your hand slipped and fell to your side. You legs give up, and any semblance of calm left your visage.

Your face covered in snot and tears was an unfamiliar sight to your classmate. He who had studied it day and night, hated it, loved it, cherished it. He had no doubt it was the most beautiful he had ever seen you been. But the problem was that he wasn’t the reason you were like this. At least not completely. It was their stupid parent’s fault for influencing the results.

His arms encircled your form as he cooed.

“I’ll … give up my spot for you okay? Don’t cry. You deserve it alright? I don’t. I’m just a kid with too much money on their hands like you said…”

So, until the time they could make you cry with their actions and their actions alone, your sobs had to stop.

[ TRANSLATIONS ] :

Papatayin na talaga kita — I will really (fucking) kill you.

Na kahit ano man mangyari — That whatever happens

Matatanggap — Will be accepted

[indigos-stardust]

Violet, Blue, And Bruised All Over: Long Talks part 2

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 6 2/3

Sorry for the hiatus lol, Vio and greens Convo is next part, should be fun, Comments and reblogs appreciated!! I wanna hear y'all's thoughts!

"Green was right about those too being similar. But it wasn't just cuz they were so stubborn. More like they were both weirdos that had a vendetta against sleep. Seriously, would it kill Blue to sleep in for five more minutes..."

Blue unlocks the gate to the training yards, practically yanking the key out before he shoved his way into the door. Yep, there it was. Blue, folks. Mr. King of Emotional Repression. Red couldn't help but roll his eyes. Sure, he was kinda bullying Blue right now, but it was only in his head! And it wasn't his fault Blue dragged him out here before the Hylias light could even grace the sky.

Blue just kept moving like some stocky stiff machine, aggressively setting up the training dummies. Oh no- That layout and choice of training dummies and lack of shields meant he wanted to be competitive. Usually Green was there to rise to the challenge in those "everyone's the enemy and lets see who'll score more points because I actually feel angry at the world but I don't know how to talk about it cuz I'm Blue!" duel things. But today, it was only Red. Hell no.

Ok, all he had to do with turn up the charm! Just cuz there wasn't any sun didn't mean he couldn't shine bright enough to make up for it! Probably.

Red's plan was to softly put his hand on Blue's shoulder, start with that emotional support you know, but then Blue immediately stiffening and clenched his entire body so hard before he'd even grazed his fingers against him. Oh this was bad.

"Hey Blue?"

Blue grip on the wooden training swords was so tight his knuckles were white. If he breaks another one he'll get splinters again.

Time to turn up the charm, "Blue? Hey! Why are you being a grumpy silly head??"

He tried to really bring some light soft teasing into it, with wide open eyes and a non judgemental silence aaaannnnd-

Blue turned around with the most pathetic look he'd ever seen Blue wear in his entire life! Or well, since they became four people anyways- Is that what I look li- NO PAY ATTENTION TO BLUE.

He looks like a toddler trying desperately to NOT bawl his eyes out! Face all scrunched up, eyes unsure, and a wobbling uncertainty. He was obviously trying to look mad, but the way his furrowed brows and eye kept twitching it was clear he couldn't hold on to Red's all consuming gentleness.

All at once Blue yelled an ugly curse and kicked into the weapons rack. Red had to flinch back to avoid the whiplash.

"UEGH! Don't you get it?! Of course IM NOT FREAKING OKAY?!!"

Hook, line, and sinker.

"WHY IS IT THAT WHENVER SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS ITS ALL MY FAULT?! OH ILL TELL YOU WHY, ITS CUZ IM THE BAD GUY RIGHT?! RIGHT?!!"

Oof, and there it is. Raw and true, and oh so Blue. Red had been tempted to zone out on Blue's rant's since they could get.. slightly lengthy, but he still needed to pay attention. Cuz buried under all those sharp cold layers was something very raw and in pain. Lashing out like a cornered animal. Oh Blue...

Blue kept stomping and huffing as he went on, hands clenching and grasping as thought he was trying to strangle an enemy that wasn't there. Stomping feet leaving little clouds of dust in his wake as he went back and forth.

"I'm NOT some kid!"

" HE'S THE ONE WHO-"

"I didn't even DO ANYTHING?!"

"I trIeD to DEAL with the NERD but NoOOOOo I'm THE BAD GUY-"

"Teaching him a lesson and THEN GREEN-"

One after one, a dam broken, the hot waters gushing out with a force so great it'd overwhelm and push away anyone who tried to stop it. But Red didn't try to stop it. He let it pass around him as he observed. He was ok, and Blue would be ok too.

He loved Blue.

"And- AND- He- I JUST- AUGH!"

Suddenly, Blue stops in his tracks. Flustered, red and sweating, feet together like some shy and embarrassed kid. He's got a grip on his own arm, shoulders hunched, like he's trying to keep himself together. A look of frightened shock overcomes him, as though he's only just now realized where he is.

Red just keeps sitting on the bench though, head tilted, mind open. Puppy vibes c'mon. He watches Blue crumble inside, a deep sigh overcoming him.

"And I-"

"Yeah?"

"I just-"

Red quietly smiles, and pats the spot beside him. Before he knows it, Blue has already plopped beside him, exhausted without even picking up a sword.

"I just don't get it."

"Whaddya mean?"

Blue fists grip his knees tighter. "Why he was even so mad..."

"Green?"

"N-No, I... I deserved that. ONLY a little bit though I-"

Red incredulously raised a single eyebrow.

"AUGH! Ok fine! I deserved it a lot! Is that what you want?? To rub it in more?!"

Red blew a strand of hair out from Infront his nose. He seemed so disinterested at first, but then, like the flick of a finger, a mischievous little smirk grew.

"AWH, Blue!! I didn't know you thought of me so highly!" he beamed.

Blue couldn't have looked more unimpressed if he tried.

Red couldn't help but a giggle a little bit before he softed.

Blue sighed and mumbled remorseful, "Didn't mean to stress you out I just.."

Blue paused, watching the light join the horizon. His whole mood just reminded Red of a damp campfire. Or maybe a wet cat? One of the two for sure. Red couldn't help the surge of love and pride, Blue really had gotten SO much better at talking about his feelings! Blue worked so hard on it, Blue was amazing.

Red pressed up against his side and slipped his hand over Blue's.

Blue finally broke, "I just can't figure out how I messed up so bad- Vio- I know he doesn't like me, I get why I just- What did I do to make HIM outta all people get so... mad? at me?"

Oh. Red got it now.

"He never gets like that, that's what I do! And- I just don't get how I messed up that bad?!"

Red frowned, thoughtful, "Well, what happened before you guys started fighting and stuff?"

Blue grimaced, "I was just.. Telling him to do the laundry for once- Wasn't even telling him to do it correctly this time either!"

Red mentally facepalmed, but schooled his expression. This was like when he almost got into a fight with the radish seller guy isn't it?

"Blue," Red started quietly, "Do you remember how you asked him to do the laundry?"

Blue froze, stupefied, like he'd never considered in all his history that that could do anything with what happened. Probably because he hadn't. Blue was, extremely, tone deaf.

"I uh, joked about it? I mean- I he mentioned me like- being all frozen and stuff like a jerk! I was trying to "lighten stuff up like you said I should!"

Oh for Faron's fate-

"Blue," Red deadpanned, " Tell me exactly what you said. And what you guys were talking about BEFORE that. "

The absolute clueless, oblivious, and unaware look that screamed "thoughtless gerbil in a field with hawks" was. So painful to watch.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Well uhhh Vio was kinda like. Being a btch?"

Red somehow managed to resist the urge to slam his skull into the brick wall behind them.

"Blue."

Blue, in question defensively puffed up like some startled baby kitten, " Hey! I- I'm telling the story and its the truth! It's not just me being mean about it! And- I won't even swear again ok! Don't tell Green- Please-"

Red silently stared into Blue's soul for half a minute. Din give me strength- "Okay."

Blue straightened up, like he was talking to some higher ranking knight, confident and steady. Or as confident and steady as you could be when you had baby rabbit ears that flicked and burned crimson with shame.

"He- He thinks that he's better than everyone else, you KNOW how big his head is-"

"Bigger than yours, Blue?"

"H-hey n- No! ANYWAYS, he was being all judgmental and crap!"

"Uh huh?"

" And- And all 'oHHOoOHH IM ~ViO~ And I'm- I'm smart and you're stupid! 'AND THEN- Get this! He goes all, freaking 'You don't care and you're hearts frozen HAHAHAh'-"

" Really, Blue? Really?"

"Oh come on! You know he's got that weird like- Theater kid laugh?? Like he learned it from that Shadow or something I dunno- Weird little sorta- kinda maniac-"

"Blue."

"Geez OK! Fine!," Blue relented, " Ok maybe he didn't laugh, but he did say like- my- My heart might as well still be frozen and-" Blue choked off.

"Oh. That's.... pretty messed up."

"Yeah. And- I've been thinking at least I have a heart..." Blue concluded grimly.

"Well there's more to it than that right?" Red prodded.

"Well! I tried to- Ya know, make it into a joke or whatever- And told him that oh hey! Maybe, maybe HE broke his brain like how the mirror was all smashed! Like- A you're making fun of me so I'm making fun of you joke-"

Blue made airquotes, "Banter, or whatever," he shrugged.

Was this how Green felt? Like several of his veins were just going to pop? Like he just wanted to lay on the ground and cry? And just eat a bunch of cupcakes and hide in his plushie pile? Okay, that last part was definitely mostly Red, but still! Blue was. The whole fight thing was... Yeah, yeah this just meant Red was right. They were being all emotional while trying to not be all emotional. That plan NEVER works! Stupid idiots. Big ol' dummies. His brothers.

"Blue, you know he's like... Sensitive about what happened in the tower of winds right??"

"He's what?"

"BLUE! He- He never talks about it! He gets all weird when WE talk about it! He- He goes off all quiet to "sort out his thoughts" or whatever! He doesn't go off and get all angry like you do!! He- He acts all mature and stoic and stuff!!"

"Oh."

"Bluuueee!!"

"Wait. Wait- So he actually- Wait are you saying I HURT his- his little twinky feelings??"

"BLUE!"

"What! I didn't know he cared about stuff!"

"You didn't think he had feelings??!!"

"N- I mean- Maybe- Have you met the guy?"

"BLUE WE USED TO BE THE SAME PERSON HOW ARE YOU SO-"

"...."

Red groaned, "Sorry Blue..."

"So Vio was right then huh?"

"H-huh?"

"I'm, I am kinda stupid huh?"

"Heh, well... hm... maybe jus' a lil bit.."

"He's still a jerk though."

"Ok, but now you guys can apologize?"

"..."

"BLUE-"

[soft--dragon]

Snow Day

Just a small drabble for you guys to snack on before I post the bigger one :D

Word Count: 1,177

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Casey was practically vibrating with excitement, booted feet doing mini stomps - a stim he’d picked up from Donnie at a young age - as he looked out over the white powered landscape of New York City Park. Mikey, who was stood right beside him snickered at his child-like behavior, giving a friendly grin.

“You’ve really never seen snow before, huh Junior?” 

Casey shook his head rapidly, eyes so wide as if he was trying to memorise every single detail of the park. “There was never white snow in the future, it was like ash, but this… Michelangelo, this is amazing!” 

Mikey’s brow dipped slightly at the mention of the harsh, desolate future Casey had come from, but he gave the boy a gentle nudge to dispel the memory. “Mikey, Casey, call me Mikey,” he reminded lightly.

Whether Casey registered the soft words was up for debate, the boy’s spellbound expression never wavering when Leo seemed to drop out of nowhere to sling an arm around Casey’s shoulders. 

“Not a bad view, aye Casey?” he grinned.

“It’s incredible,” the young warrior murmured, his smile lifting his eyes.

“Well what are you waiting for? Come on!” Leo grabbed his students hand and ran, dragging along Casey who almost fell flat on his face from the sudden force.

“Wait up Leo!” Mikey yelled after his brother, taking off right behind the pair, with the rest of the family in tow. 

Leo didn’t even hesitate before he dove into the snow with a gleeful whoop, dragging Casey into the soft powder and laughing when the boy just about screamed.

“JESUS! It’s cold, Leo!” “Welcome to the ice age, Jones!”

There was an audible scoff from above the two. “Incorrect Leo, the ice age was thousands of years ago when creatures such as mammoths used to roam the earth and- hey!”

A snowball smashed into the back of Donnie’s head from non-other than April who was grinning similar to a Cheshire cat. “Sorry, did I interrupt you?” 

“Yes actually, I was trying to educate Leo on his very historically inaccurate claim- ow!” A second snowball had splattered straight into Donnie’s face, the teen being thrown to the ground with the force of it. “APRIL!”

Raph high fived the girl in passing, moving to Leo and Casey who were still lying in the snow. “Don’t you two go catching a cold alright? We don’t want to get the whole fam sick.” “We’ll be fine, Raph, don’t worry,” Leo smirked up at his older brother, “We’re well protected from the cold.” “Yes, but some of us aren’t that used to winter, remember?” 

“Oh, I know.” Leo’s hand planted itself in Casey’s mop of unruly hair, messing with the black locks and making the kid yelp and squirm in protest. “I’ll keep an eye on the snow baby.”

Casey baulked from under Leo’s fingers. “The- the snow what?” Raph sighed with a small, fond smile. “If he gets sick you’re taking care of him.” “Don’t I always?”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m right here you guys.” “Hush snow baby,” Leo scooped up some snow and shoved it in Casey’s unsuspecting face, trying and failing to hide his grin at the boy’s wild screech of alarm and offence. “The adults are talking.”

The snow removed, Casey tried leaning away only for Leo’s hand to come back and to pinch his cheek. “Augh! Stop! Your hands are freezing!”

“Oh, are they actually?” Leo’s hands were then diving under Casey’s scarf to press them against his neck, and the scream the boy gave was almost ear splitting.

“NO! Off, off, off! Get away from me!” Casey scrambled across the snow to escape, only for Leo to follow with an evil gleam in his eyes. “Guys help!”

Casey, who had fallen victim to Leo’s schemes more than once, knew the outcome of this dilemma, and scrambled off the ground in an instant. He was running laps of the park, laughing over his shoulder at the turtle who was pursuing him with outstretched hands and taunting loudly. 

“Should we stop them before they fall into the lake?” Mikey asked with a laugh.

Raph shrugged, smirking. “Eh, let em tire themselves out, it’ll be easier to get them to sleep later.”

“I concur, I do not want to deal with a hyperactive Leo,” Donnie raised a hand from where he was still lying on the ground from April’s snowball attack.

The green jacketed girl rolled her eyes. “Donnie, get up.”

“Can’t. I’ve been shot.”

A scream echoed through the park, making the group whip around in alarm to where Leo and Casey were tussling on the ground, the blue coded turtle pressing his fingers underneath Casey’s scarf to target his neck. The raven haired teen was screeching at the chill spreading through his skin, bursts of laughter mingling with his yelps as Leo refused to let up. 

“LEHEHO! Stohohopihit!” 

“What? Can’t hear you Snow Baby, sorry, I’ve got ear muffs on.” 

“YOU DON'T!”

“Invisible ear muffs are the modern style Case, I thought you’d know that cause you’re from the future.”

One of Casey’s hands came up to shove at Leo’s face, the other trying to push away the turtle’s fingers assaulting his sensitive skin. “Thahat’s soho duhumb!”

Leo’s mouth dropped open and gasped loudly. “How dare you insult my invisible earmuffs, that is so mean.” 

Casey cracked an eye open to peer up at Leo smugly. “Thought you couldn’t hear me with those ear muffs?” 

Scoffing an incredulous laugh, Leo furrowed his brow playfully. “Alright, wise guy, you asked for this.” Leo lightened his touch enough so that his fingernails were just grazing along Casey’s neck, causing the boy to try and turn into a turtle himself and scrunch his head down, all the while in fits of panicked giggles.

“DahAHAamnit LehehEHEO!” He cried, grappling with the turtle’s arms to dislodge his freezing fingers. “Nohohoho!”

Using the tassels of Casey’s scarf to dust along his cheek just to be annoying, Leo cooed, “I warned you bud; insult the muffs, get the fluff.”

Pressing his cheek into the snow, Casey batted at his mentor with horribly uncoordinated movements. “Yohou suhuck!”

“Ouch, what a burn. Good thing we’re surrounded by so much ice that I can treat it.”

Casey landed a smack on his shoulder, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t roll right out of his head. “Dork,” he bit out between peals of laughter.

“Oh I’m a dork now am I? Wow, really laying it on thick with the insults today, kiddo,” Leo snorted. The attempts of ‘insulting’ Leo really weren’t really that cutting at all, he was gonna have to teach this kid some curse words to help him along. Raph may kill him for it, but he was the sensei of Jones Junior, not his big brother.  Casey did end up catching a cold from the snow, though Leo held up his promise and was vigilant during the boy’s recovery. This was his kid after all, he was always going to look out for his Snow Baby.

[sirhusk]

sick day..

huskerdust fanfic!

tw: swearing,fluff

enjoy!!

———————————————————————————————————

Angel came in from a LONG shoot with Val, he of course walked over to the bar to get a drink from husk when he realized.. husk wasn’t there?

Angel looked around and he spotted Charlie, walking up to her with a confused look

“aye, Charlie!” — he yelled

Charlie turned to angel, raising an eyebrow

“yeah angel? what’s up?” — she questioned

Angel pointed at the bar

“Where’s husk?” — he asked with a slight concern

Charlie’s facial expression changed to a bit of an upset one

“Oh, he seemed really sick so I let him have the day off up in his room.. poor thing looked awful!”

— she pouted

Angel rolled his eyes

“that motha fucker!” — he said with an annoyed tone

Angel then stomped up to husks room.

“Wait angel don’t bother- him.. ugh..” — she grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose

Angel swung husks door open to see him laying down in bed, his eyes closed and his wings tucked with his tail wrapped around his ankle

Angel walked up to the bed

“Aye! Pretty kitty!” — he said with an attitude.

There was no answer from husk.

Angel shook husk, hearing a small groan from him after

“the fuck..?” — he looked up at angel

Husk growled and sat up slightly, his ears pinned to his head

“Angel.. what the fu-“ — he was cut off.

“I heard ya were sick? the fuck is this??” — he yelled

“so? I’m sick, fuckin’ sue me.” — he grumbled

Husk turned over in his bed, laying back down.

Angel groaned and roughly turned husk back over

“Angel what the fuck?!” — he yelled

“are you even REALLY sick?” — he glared

“Yes I’m fuckin sick! now leave me the fuck alone.” — he hissed, growling and rolling back over.

Angel thought for a moment, than got an idea

“ya know what, I’ll be right back! don’t move.” — he said sternly before leaving the room

“Wasn’t plannin on it.” — he rolled his eyes

After about 30 minutes, Angel opened husks door, walking in and shutting the door behind him

“I’m back!~ and I gotcha somethin!” — he said sweetly

“ugh.. what n-.. oh?” — he sat up

Husk looked at the bowl angel was holding, it had some soup in it.. it looked.. decent

“Here, eat!” — he handed husk the bowl

Husk took the bowl and looked at it

“..is this poisoned” — he questioned

“what?! no! jeez husk I’m an asshole but I wouldn’t fuckin poison ya!” — he sounded offended

“sorry sorry, just- didn’t think ya would make me.. soup?” — he shrugged

Angel rolled his eyes

“just eat it!” — he sounded annoyed

Husk then took a small bite, spitting it out IMMEDIATELY afterwards

“augh- you can’t cook for shit!” — he coughed out

“Wow, I’m hurt.” — he pouted, obviously faking it.

“uh huh.. can you leave now?” — he grumbled

“Hmm, nope!” — he grinned

Husk groaned and rolled back over, his back facing angels, until he heard Angel sit on his bed, he rolled back over and sat up

“what the hell do ya think your doin?” — he raised an eyebrow

“ima help ya feel betta!” — he smirked

“fuck no! get out!” — he yelled

“cmonnn husky, ya know ya want me in here”

— he rested his face in his hands

Husk looked at angel for a moment, then rolled his eyes

“Fine, but don’t try anything.” — he mumbled

“I can’t make any promises, whiskers!~” — he teased, he wouldn’t do anything dirty but teasing husk was fun

Husk turned over, laying down on his bed and not paying much attention to angel..

Angel sat on the bed next to husk, and out of boredom he reached over and petted husks head

Husk jerked and sat up, glaring at him

“..what?” — Angel tilted his head, still petting husk

“what.. the FUCK. do ya think your doin?” — he said in a stern tone.

“pettin ya!” — he grinned

“who the hell said you could pet me?!” — he growled

“well ya ain’t stoppin me so I’d say ya like it!”

— he smirked

Husk blushed slightly, then looked away and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“whatever.” — he mumbled

Angel giggled, still petting husk.. the room was silent for a moment before a faint purring could be heard from husk.. angels eyes lit up and he grinned

“did- did you just purr??” — he said excitedly

Husk blushed brightly then covered half of his face

“n-no I didn’t fuckin purr! your hearin shit.”

— he stuttered

“nahh I definitely heard ya!~” — angel snickered

Husk smacked angels hand away, covering his face fully.

“fuck off!” — husk yelled

Angel put his hands up in surrender

“cahalm down, kitty! I’m just teasin ya!”

Husk laid back down and covered his whole head with the blanket he was using, grumbling.

Angel giggled at husk

“dahamn, didn’t think you’d be so shy kitty~”

— angel smirked

Husk ignored him

Angel rolled his eyes and laid down beside husk, after a few minutes husk felt two pairs of angels arms wrap around him, one around his chest and the other around his stomach.. cuddling up to him, but surprisingly husk didn’t move..

he leaned into it, purring softly.

———————————————————————————————————

(sorry if it’s short!, I got the idea from @jacquiblue6 on TikTok!)

[justice-n-cowboyhats]

╰☆☆ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ❤●•

𝚁𝚙 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 @passingthroughthenorthstar !

As Clover exits a shop, the noise of laughter catches his attention. They don't pay it any mind. Just a few happy folk enjoying their night, nothing to freak out over. They flick a finger up, nudging their hat to not block his vision.

They duck into an alley, reaching into their inventory. Chees snax, a root beer, candy … Ah! A bowl of warm baked beans they managed to get from the shop. The monster inside was kind enough to accept the rest of their G, if only out of pity. It was fine. Pity be damned, Clover wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Stuck in their thoughts, they didn't notice the soft chucking into their heard the soft thump! of footprints behind them. Sparing a glance, they noticed some young looking monsters behind them.

“Well look what we have here boys. A little human, all alone without their mommy and daddy!" A blue monster with short horns and scales hollered. 2 more monsters stepped behind them. One was tall, with black feathers while the other was no taller than Clover. Their cat ears twitched along with their tail, while one paw came up to gently tug at their red scarf.

“ They're so scrawny, no wonder they're eating scraps. ” The feline monster purred. The sea monster brought their fists together and cracked their knuckles, a dark grin splitting their face. “ And look at that shiny toy they got there. Kid, a little runaway like you doesn't deserve such a valuable item.. Why don't you give it here and we won't pummel you? ” They laughed.

Clover turned to look at the monsters and raised a brow. “ Sorry but I can't. Don't know 'bout you but I like feeling prepared. ” Clover clicked his tongue.

There was no time to react as the blue monster grabbed Clover by their bandana and hoisted them in the air. “ If you wanted to do this the hard way, you could've just asked. ”

The world around them turned dark. As his soul faded into existence they pulled their head back and headbutted the monster.

The monster cried in pain, roughly dropping Clover as they moved their hands to hold their head. Clover landed on the ground, letting out a soft "oof!" as his back hit the floor. His hat, having fell off his head during the impact, gently landed on their face. They quickly snatched the hat off their face. Scraping their hands and knees on gravel and pavement, Clover got up.

Ignoring the increasing pain, they dashed out of the alley, hoping to lose the monsters in a crowd. Their heart pounded in their chest. They could hear those thugs stomping behind them.

‘ What do I do?! I can't hurt them. Augh I just have to keep running! ’ His mind unhelpfully ran with millions of thoughts, every one coming back to the same conclusion: Don't hurt them. That wouldn't be just.

If they where a little more determined...

It wasn't long before they ended up in, what they assumed was, a little shopping market. They ducked and weaved through crowds, ignoring other monsters cries and grunts of annoyance.

[ficbrish]

The Truth of It

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 20th - Thighfucking]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood, suicide (mentions, ideation, past attempts—girliepop goes through it), death mentions, self-hate]]

Summary: Vistri opens up about her suicide ideation.

Act I - Mountains camp - After the failed zaith'isk/Githyanki cure

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri?” Shadowheart called out her name a second time; right next to her, on the same bit of seating, and she still didn’t answer. Not even her favorite people could shake Vistri from the mood she’d fallen into, bog-like and hollow.

The back of her neck stung hot with Astarion’s consistent frown. His eyes, sharp with professed concern, had stalked her ever since she’d messed with the Githyanki’s purification device. It wasn’t the first time she almost died in front of him. With that face, if she were gone, he could easily find another bedroll to slake his lusts. Vistri didn’t know why he was pretending to be so bothered about it! Her disappearance should be a non-issue.

A general or an artist would be able to point it out, someone who could look at the lay of the land and positions of its people, and read stories. While everyone else was gathered in a group circle, passing around open hearts, laughing smiles, and shared bottles, Astarion stood in front of his tent, glaring at his lover who could hear nothing but the displeasure in his eyes.

As Shadowheart called her name for a third time, Vistri stormed off with a growl.

She’d been a puzzle to Astarion for most of the day, but this really took the cake. It was alarming to see her blink Shadowheart out of existence like that. Sure, they’d all known each other for only a few tendays, give or take, but from the outside, those two could have grown up together. If Shadowheart couldn’t take control of her storm, Astarion had no idea how his ship would fare it. All raging waters, she stomped in his direction like a 50ft wave.

Before he could get a word out to question why she marched over in such a fitful state, she huffed, “Stop it.”

Something in her tone and approach immediately ruffled his feathers. The sheer unpredictability of her made his anxiety appear before she spoke, and whatever it was that got under his skin, spiked it. He didn’t expect these kinds of feelings to ever be molded by her hands. It was always quite the opposite.

Betrayed, he swallowed, then bit back, “Excuse me?! Stop what?”

“Augh!”

Astarion clicked his tongue and lightened his tone, “Oh, dear. Did you misplace your charm? Because I do miss it ever so much.”

Thankfully, none of the others were nearby to witness Vistri’s moment of disgrace. They were all sitting around the old cistern, laughing and having a pleasant evening. Even Lae’zel, who popped a vessel every time they stopped to rest and whose “cure” turned out to be a lie of her people, was unusually animated. She kept egging on Karlach to ask Gale more questions about his grandad. Vistri was more likely to elbow a dear friend out of the way for a better view than sit there unresponsive. Her favorite thing to do was fuck around, and she hated being serious.

So, again, what was she doing bothering him for? What-the-fuck did he do?! He was used to getting in trouble, made a habit of it actually; all he wanted was to know was why.

Astarion raised his brow, pointing to the merriment she’d left behind to come fuss at him. Then it knitted with the other one, “Are you sure everything’s all right—”

“No! That! Stop that!” One more version of, Are you okay? from his so obviously deceptive lips and Vistri swore she’d jump into the campfire.

“I’m sorry?”

“Augh!”

“Do you…? Do you need to sit down? Or?”

“I do not need anything. I’m fine! Please, spare me your false concerns.”

“False con—! Oh, I’m sorry! Did I dare to give a shit for once? Fuck me, I’m never doing that again.”

Frustrated tears began to well up in Vistri’s eyes. A crater opened up in her stomach, “No!”

“No?”

Because the thing was that nobody cared. No one who fucked her ever asked if she was okay, because Vistri was always fantastic, and even if one doubted that for even a second, all they needed to seek relief was just to sit back and enjoy her show. The audience may gasp at a particularly nasty fall, but she always shot up afterwards with a grand smile and confetti rained down on her head. Astarion asked without really being the first person to ask. He said the words, his brow screwed up, but there was no way in any of the hells that he meant it. And if she could just say, You scare the shit out of me because none of it can be real, then maybe he’d be able to clear things up for her.

But all she could articulate was, “Augh!”

Astarion sighed to calm his excited rage, “I’m lost. Am I speaking to Vistri? Or is this some sort of residual, pissed-off-tadpole effect?”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from spitting back with something truly nasty she didn’t really mean and would forever regret. Astarion looked like he was doing the same. His eyes were as sharp as his smirk, and there was something dangerous in his air. Like he was ready to fight to the death, and by the gods, so was she.

Vistri balled her hands into fists, so wanting to break whatever laid at the root of his giving a shit. To snap it like a twig, and watch it die in his eyes.

It was the only thing she deserved.

The tender glint in his eyes sliced through her, sharp like papercuts. She would lose his frowning lips, and the memory of her would disappear as others sucked them. Vistri wanted to kiss them before it was too late. Tangle herself in his tongue and his arms and his chest, until she was nothing but raw heat, just something for him to take. So the rage had nowhere to go.

She blinked back her revulsion, and the overflow spilled down her face. Embarrassed, her voice cracked, “My head…”

Astarion’s defenses shut down. His heart seemed to obey her voice; whereas before it raised his shackles and grit his teeth, it now stilled his rage and broke it down into tenderness. He stepped closer with the care he’d just promised never to show again. Instinctively, he caressed the sides of her head, as if touch could cure it. The gentleness of his gesture, its complete lack of hesitation, tore Vistri’s heart in two, with one side empty as the void and the other full to bursting.

“Did that wretched Githyanki device hurt you, love?”

She nodded. That wasn’t it, but it was an easier story. Besides, if everyone believed in it enough, maybe it would become true.

Astarion sighed, “I think you deserve a good lie down. Why don’t we head inside my tent?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to be inside.”

He lifted her chin up with his finger to peer inquisitively into her face. Astarion’s eyes met hers with kindness, forgiveness, “What about a walk to clear your mind?”

She nodded her head gratefully.

“Then we’ll take a quaint little stroll around the cliff,” his voice was soft and a little cheeky, “Would that be nice?”

It was embarrassing for Astarion to act with the patience of a paladin, and even more so for Vistri to act in a way that required it. They wore those roles like ill-fitting clothes. With that awkwardness lingering around them, making the air sharp, they took a step forward. He led her to another part of camp, away from all the others and their merriment. To get uphill, they had to first walk a decline. He carefully guided her passed rocks that stuck out and ground that slid, like she was someone frail. A ghost had more presence than she did at the moment.

Discordant bits of laughter from the group carried over on the wind and hit their backs like mocking jeers, even though it had nothing to do with either of them. The only rooms they’d ever known filled one’s absence with group whispers. Astarion swallowed such blaring thoughts. Willing them away, he turned to the task at hand and gently brought her to the spot they claimed for themselves the other night.

“Care for a roll in the hay?”

She’d clicked her fingers, and about three bales of it exploded into existence around their feet that night. The proud cockiness in her smirk was too delicious not to lick up, and he’d devoured her with a similar pride. Guilty lusts settled in now with those memories. Astarion shook his head to clear it.

“Come sit,” he insisted, his tone harsher than he meant, “We wouldn’t want you falling over, and you seem rather dizzy.”

“Better?” he asked as she did.

Vistri nodded, but he saw it for the lie it was. Astarion knew more than most that sometimes there was no better. He sucked his teeth and sat down next to her.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Your head, darling. Does it—?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

The way she blew off his rare kindness brought him right back to his previous rage, like he’d never left it. His mood visibly soured.

“You’re doing it again,” she muttered.

Astarion scoffed, “Pray tell, what am I apparently doing again?”

She shook her head, “It’s so silly.”

“I could use a laugh.”

Vistri sighed, admitting bashfully, “You’re… You keep frowning at me. Like you care what happens to me—Or something! I don’t know what you’re playing at, but we both know what’s what here and I’d rather that than be played a fool.”

Her words struck his heart, and reminded Astarion of who he really was.

“Well… That wasn’t very funny. Try again.”

Vistri laughed, “You prick!”

For that second, he wasn’t a leech, and she wasn’t an empty glass. They stepped out of their roles to be Astarion and Vistri sharing a joke together. Then reality set in.

“I don’t like to see you hurt,” he said out loud, trying it on for size. It wasn’t wrong either. He felt like rats had been chewing through his veins as he watched her twist and shriek in the grasp of that alien machine.

“Afraid of the goods getting damaged?”

He smirked, “Obviously.”

Vistri pulled apart a bit of hay, watching it break between her fingers without seeing it, “I don’t know how to take… I mean…”

Astarion waited for her to continue, but more words never came. His hand reached for hers, “Vistri, I—I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”

That desperate look in her eyes pleaded for truth, but Astarion was lost as to what that was. A chill ran through him. She deserved so much more, and all he had to offer was himself, a falsehood.

He watched her try her best to believe in his words, and squeezed her hand, “Do you think it brings me pleasure to see you in pain?”

Vistri raised an amused brow.

Astarion chuckled, “Yes, of course that, but it’s not the same, is it?”

She smirked and scratched the back of her neck, “No.”

“Even with that, it’s not so much seeing you in pain, as it is seeing you let me do it.”

“Seeing me let you do what?”

His smile was devilish, “Anything I want.”

A bit of shyness colored her agitation. The more he watched her expression, the more it seemed to change to sadness. There was so much beauty to take in from the distance, but Vistri was staring out at nothing.

“Yeah,” she said.

Astarion brought her knuckles up to brush them with his lips. And kissed them bump by bump.

“My pretty pet… What is it that bothers you so?”

Vistri sighed, “You’re being nice outside of the bedroom and it’s weird.”

He scoffed and dropped her hand, “I’m nice!”

She leaned in and raised her brow.

“Don’t look at me like that. You make me nice.”

“Why?”

“Why? I don’t know why. It… Ugh! Maybe it rubs off!”

Uncomfortable with the heaviness, Vistri joked, “Gods know we do a lot of rubbing.”

He chuckled, looping his fingers through hers.

She looked out into the distance again. So did he.

As they sat there, Astarion played back every word and interaction he’d had with her that day, the day before, and basically any time they’d ever spent together. He was trying to figure her out on his own, and the more he contemplated, the more vileness crawled up his throat like bile. Every detail he went through made her more vulnerable, which made him more of a monster.

“What is it about this time?”

He was surprised she spoke. It had been a while since either of them said anything, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I’m asking because I really want to know.”

“Now, now, darling. We don’t bite without asking.”

Vistri smirked her apology.

“I didn’t know I was being any different. Except… Why did you jump into that thing? That device? Wait—Don’t answer that, just listen. Because then I thought… That’s not the first time I’ve seen you jump in like that. Countless times… And then there’s me. And that’s the thing that explains it all, isn’t it?”

“What are you on about?”

“I think you’re hoping something’s going to come along and finally kill you. Like you died ages ago, and the moment to pass on keeps running by and you’re just… Well, maybe you’re just trying to catch up to it,” Astarion spoke plainly, without any weight, just a statement. He cleared his throat upon finishing his last word.

Vistri dropped his hand and laughed, “Silly boy!”

They’d held on for so long, letting go felt like losing a limb. Their empty, damp palms were chilled by the air as it breezed by.

“Right. Silly me,” he said with the absence of amusement.

“What do you want here?”

“What do I want? I don’t want anything,” he made a grand gesture with his hands, “I’m simply revealing my revelations.”

She scoffed, “What? That I’m just waiting for death? Aren’t we all?”

He sighed, “Forget I said anything.”

Vistri felt her lips tremble. She felt so stupid, “That’s it?”

“I was concerned. I said my bit. We can move on if you don’t want to discuss it further.”

She sat there and raged. Who the fuck was he to pretend to know her?

“You don’t care.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he didn’t know if that was true.

Biting her lip, Vistri tried to pull herself together. She needed to breathe, but a big wave of something ugly threatened to slip out with every bit of exhale. Her past was like an octopus, and the constant vibratory tension from his worry ripped a hole through the steel walls neatly containing it in a forgotten corner of her mind. Like a clean, empty facility, it was abandoned, yet well-tended to. His queries poked through the hole and reached around inside, and if even one tentacle got wind of the crack, all eight arms could slip out, and its head would follow like liquid. 

Astarion could see she was on the verge of telling him something but needed a bit more encouragement. He grabbed her hand, “I think I do care. At least enough to wonder what that’s all about.”

Again, he didn’t know if it was true, but it felt… not like a lie.

“Promise me you’ll laugh?” she asked.

Astarion sighed, “If that’s what you want, I’ll do my best to oblige.”

“All right, then,” her smile was unnerving. It wasn’t just out of place in the moment, it was equal parts ‘grimace as a silent shriek’ and ‘grin of a delighted fey’, “I could tell you the story of what I was doing before the Nautiloid snatched me up. Does that sound good to you?”

“I guess…”

She still wore that same horrific expression, “I was on a cliff just like this one, trying my best to jump right in, as you put it before.”

As shocking as that was, it really wasn’t. He might’ve placed his bets on someone else if he’d have guessed, but he also wasn’t that surprised. Of course he was drawn to another soul as wretched as his. In the best of cosmic jokes, Astarion picked a mirror to play Cazador to. 

He answered slowly, carefully as if navigating a minefield, “Yeah?”

Vistri pouted, “You promised to laugh!”

Astarion gave a weak, “Ahahahaha…”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, “It’s funny!”

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“While the thought of you going splat is endlessly amusing, your delivery was all wrong, love.”

“What a critic!”

“Try again.”

Vistri cleared her throat, ready to be dazzling, "Okay, Hold on... It was a day just like any other day—”

“Gods! Not like that!” he teased, “We’ll be sitting here until the sun rises again.”

She glared at him, “I see you expect perfection.”

“I accept,” he spread his fingers and collected them back with a sweeping wave, “No less.”

She smirked at him slyly “There once was a Drow named Vistri, who some say was quite the mys-try!”

Astarion nodded his approval.

She proudly continued her improvised little song, “She went to jump over a cliff, but it was a miss. She took a step forward, oh my she was tortured! Then down from the sky came a very bad guy, and a tentacle scooped her up northward!”

Astarion couldn’t help but actually laugh with her this time, “It’s not funny! But—While you were stepping over the edge?”

“Yes! One foot hovering over the abyss,” she giggled, “Then poof!”

“If that would happen to anyone, it would happen to you. Or me, come to think of it.”

Vistri wiped the tears from her eyes, “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s truly amazing, is what it is.”

“It never works for me, you know,” she said, “Any time I try to… Well. You know. It’s something in my magic, I was born with the powers of an old dragon I didn’t do anything to earn. My magic is always there—I didn’t ask for it, and more than just a survival instinct, it’s like a vengeance of life.”

“A vengeance of life? I can identify with that. I think I survived those two hundred years just out of pure spite. A stake through the heart felt like letting him win.”

“No matter what I try, it’s always okay in the end,” she continued, “I can’t even take myself seriously after a while. More than half the times I’ve… I’d be going over plans in my head of what to do later that evening. And after all those times, I’m still here.”

“I don’t hate that you’re still here.”

Vistri scoffed, “Yeah?”

“No, I mean it. I’m glad,” he took her hand back, “I benefit, at least.”

She smirked, but her eyes were dead. They filled and ran without noticing, just sitting there in her skull, barely looking out.

One “Ha” of a laugh escaped him that was more like a huff, “And immediately after, you had to fight for your life.”

“What?”

Astarion pointed to his head, “Tadpole. Big ship? Took us up? Remember?”

She chuckled, but it was so empty, “Shut up.”

“Do you really want me to? Or can I ask you another question?”

“Go on,” she said weakly.

“It’s rather broad, are you all right with that?”

She shot him a suspicious glance, but the accusation quickly melted into something else, “All right.”

Astarion sighed, and then simply asked, “Why?”

Like a child, she brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the crook of them. Her expression was thoughtful, not refusing. She looked like she was going to answer, and was just deciding how.

And then she didn’t. She just sat there and stared ahead.

The broken way he eventually said, “Oh, my darling…” pulled at her thread that was holding everything together.

“Don’t!”

Vistri was stiff as the rock around them. So unmoving, she was shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said very calmly, “Is there anything I can do?”

She shut her eyes tight, and began rocking, “No. Stay there. Shush.”

He nodded and waited for her signal to do anything other than watch and freeze. The timelessness of the hells fell over their heads. Gravity felt steeper. Now was forever.

“Okay,” her voice broke the spell, and she looked up at him, nodding, to repeat, “Okay.”

Astarion flew around her, and for the first time outside of a whoopsie in battle or moment of fun, held her tightly, so tight, for the sake of his own aching heart. He kissed the top of her head reflexively. Warming her back with one hand, he cradled her face against his neck with the other. He genuinely wanted to do it, felt no ulterior motivation, but at the same time, a part of his mind marked his victory. Catching her up at a vulnerable moment, and being the shoulder she leaned on, would bind her to him like a warding enchantment.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered senselessly, “I’m so sorry.” He had no idea whether he was apologizing for whatever she couldn’t say, or himself. Perhaps both. Perhaps a bit more for his own wrongdoing.

Only it didn’t feel wrong. And that scared him. Frightened him.

Vistri knew she was crying but couldn’t feel herself doing so. She knew she was being held by him, but rather looked out and saw it from above and off to the side. She thought she looked terrible, and he looked so fine. Dashingly picturesque and tragic.

Nobody ever held her the way he did now. She never felt such warmth, and they were both such cold people. How was it possible? Was it some dream?

She started speaking, “We’re more similar than you know.”

Right then, Astarion predicted the gist of what she was about to say. He could tell by the look on her face and the way her tone itched at his brain, she had her own Cazador. She also walked around weighted by invisible chains held by a very nasty man. Same prison, different jailor; he was understood. He found a home there in that knowing. Still, he’d give her his own rusted shackles just to lighten his burden, even if it meant crushing her under them. Anything to soothe the wound.

He’d warned her so many times; he was a thing that ate. He had real no say in the matter, the curse that fueled his undead life was a restless jaw. If Vistri was looking for a guide to a kinder world, she wouldn’t find it in his arms. They belonged to another very nasty man. Even though it was different this time, he’d take her with him to Cazador’s lair and someone would die. If only one of them were to make it out of this mess alive, well, he was a scrappy survivor, and she was the type to ball up and welcome oblivion. Anything to be free.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and it was so warm. Like an embrace, it held her softly, making her feel like something meant to be protected. She nodded tearfully into him. Leaning on him like this was an indulgence, but he tolerated it at least enough to let it happen. Vistri knew she had to pull herself together. The home she found was rented, and she could only borrow so much. Astarion had more to give, but it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be one of the lucky ones.

He kissed her head again, and caught himself, “Sorry. Is it okay to touch you?”

She nodded harder than the last time.

His chuckle was relief. To her, it was a song. He held her tighter. She dissolved. He’d taken off her mask, stripped her of her costume, and naked, she cried into his chest, “I just want to die. I want to be dead. And I can’t. I keep trying, and I can’t!”

Holding her at a moment like this was a key part of his plan. Step one, open her legs. Step two, her heart. It was a system as efficient as it was ugly and cheap. And it made him ugly and cheap, but it also made him safe. He closed his eyes, Vistri’s tears soaking through his shirt felt like fire and it burned into his cursed, cold skin like a holy symbol; a brand. It was like her body knew what lurked inside his, called him out for the parasite he was even as she was oblivious to it, and fought back to defend against him when she couldn’t.

Vistri sunk into him, tucked into his warmth. She found her breath again in his arms, and in the moment she came back to herself, started to laugh.

He peeked down, “What are you chuckling about in there?”

Her eyes still freely flowed, silent and thick, but she was more present than before, “In where?”

“My shirt,” he said, “My damp shirt, mind you.”

“How is that my fault?”

He glared at her, “What do you mean, how?”

“I told you not to ask questions.”

“Well excuse me for wondering about your tendency to… To—”

“Try to kill myself?” she finished, her tone too light.

Astarion sighed. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t join in.

“You promised!”

“Let me let you in on a little secret about me and promises,” he said dangerously sardonic, eyes lowered, “Besides, I already pretended to laugh earlier.”

“Faking it doesn’t count!”

“Maybe I’d find it funnier if…”

“If what?”

If what?

If the others wouldn’t kill him before her corpse was cold? If they didn’t rely on each other every battle? If the very thought of her…

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t want you dead! Is that so horrible to believe?”

His grumpiness was sweet. They were always pretending, with each other, with everyone else. Vistri knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him. That’s why every word he uttered that she ever wanted to hear made her ache all over with a dull sorrow, and why the words he pushed her away with were such tender caresses.

“Of course it’s horrible,” she joked, smiling, “I can’t give you what you want and kill myself! However will my two worst impulses co-exist?”

Astarion smirked, “Shithead.”

She smiled, and that sign of life from her made his blood rush.

He kissed her cheek to whisper in her ear, “If you ever feel such a desire coming upon you in the future, come to me, darling. I won’t provide you a real death, but I have plenty of little ones to give.”

His advances flooded Vistri with relief, she knew who she was within desire. Who to be and how to be had familiar answers, and reuniting with any sense of self was such a comfort, she had her first real sense of stillness since breakfast that morning.

He was so close, she prayed he didn’t hear the way her breath gave out.

“I heard that,” he muttered against her cheekbone.

“No, you didn’t,” she giggled heatedly.

“Yes, I did. Now, I know you want it, but I can’t give you that yet. There’s something you must do first.”

“Gods!” she groaned, “Please tell me you’re not about to request I promise not to throw myself right off this cliff!”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t born yesterday! That’s not a promise you’d keep in the long term. Then I’d have to call off whatever this is between us because you’d be lying just to get in my pants, and that would be awkward because your lie would have been exposed just after you tried to off yourself.”

She laughed loudly, “I wouldn’t lie! I would just refuse, and eventually you’d fuck me anyway.”

He grabbed hold of her wrists and leered at her seriously with a piercing expression. Time seemed to stop.

Astarion observed her reaction to pick apart her every emotion, willing his own to remain carefully neutral. Her confidence was so hollow. Her eyes gleamed with the delight of having him wrapped around her little finger, and yes, gods yes, he’d suck it and moan and beg for more, but he was the one really in control. He had all the power because he was clearly giving her something she never had.

The first cut and all that.

Her fingers played with his chest through his open shirt. His heart skipped on its own at the brush of their tips.

“And what about you?”

His mind had wandered, and while he was away, one of her arms broke free to reach for him, “What?”

“How tempting is this cliff?”

“Me? Oh! Right. That, uh,” he paused with a scoffing chuckle, “No, my dear. Sadly, it was my wish to live that landed me in this spot in the first place.”

“And since?”

Releasing her other wrist from his grip, he answered dryly, “Everything’s been fairies and rainbows, and all my days have had happy endings.”

Vistri smirked, raising her brow, “Well, they do now, at least.”

He flashed a heated smile and lowered his eyes, “Why do you care to ask?”

She squinted at his question, like it had the sting of an insult, “I don’t know! Why do you care to ask me?”

“You’re right. That was horrible! Let’s never care again!”

He expected her to laugh but she looked rather serious. “I didn’t mean for you to worry,” her tone was small, and younger than he’d ever heard.

His smirk was friendly and understanding, “If it helps, I was more curious than anything else.”

“Curious?!”

There was a contentedness in his playful tone, “They call her Vistri, ‘cus she’s a mys-try!”

“Oh, stick to readership, darling.”

He growled and tackled her to the ground. She was breathless underneath him, laughing like every spot on her body tickled at once. Some might call it happiness, and maybe it was; Astarion felt it as acceptance. Overwhelming acceptance. So adored, he was given anything he wanted, completely spoiled. And if he was invited to take, why shouldn’t he?

“Remember that favor, my dear?” he asked, pinning her forearms above her head. Before she could answer, he leaned in for a kiss, one that was gentle and hungry.

Her sighs were moans, “Maybe I’ll wait it out.”

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Could you?”

The way she shivered was her answer. Astarion grinned and stroked her throat with the tip of his nose. From the base of it to her chin, and sealed his gesture with another longing kiss.

She was his.

Even if it meant degrading herself. Being his little slut, bent over and drooling. He moaned on the next stroke of her tongue, overcome by the whim to fuck her senseless. His mind reeled with possibility. Just how far would she go for him, out in the open air, with the others just off into the distance? How could he give her a taste of a life that was worth living?

“Get yourself off for me, dear.”

“Here?” Vistri asked, grinning. Her heart pounded faster than it already was.

They weren’t exactly discreet, but only ever touched each other tucked away in the woods or his tent. Here, out on the cliff where anyone might see… It was like he was claiming her. Like maybe some small part of his mind, or some feeling deep down, knew how important she was going to be to him once he realized his truth. That if he asked her to cum in the open air under the evening glow, she was worth something.

“The sun is disappearing, and I’ll cover you.”

Her grin grew wider, even reaching her eyes. She tried to tug one of her arms free from his grip.

“Ah, ah! No hands."

She looked at him curiously. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her. Maybe he had a delightfully naughty idea. Maybe this was the start of his attempt to toss her off the cliff.

He unwrapped one of her legs from around his, and slid his thigh between hers, “Use me.”

“Okay.”

Showing her how to proceed, Astarion rubbed himself against her middle. She bit her lip and began to roll her hips. Her obedience was like a drug, and they passed it with their tongues where it melted into them and infected their minds worse than those tadpoles ever could.

“Good,” he praised, just above a whisper. He fondled her neck, and the hand he let go of shot to his curls. His fangs throbbed, so ready to take her that he gasped as if biting into something hot whenever they touched her skin.

She made a sound he had to shush, it was too personal and way too explicit.

“I can block you from view, but I cannot stop your sound.”

She nodded, sighing and rocking against his thigh.

“All the pieces come together,” he said as she pleasured herself on him, “You’ve always given yourself to me so willingly. Let me bite you. Now I know why.”

Vistri tossed her head back, craning her neck, and sighed, “There are worse things than dying in the arms of someone pretty.”

“And if I had killed you that night?”

“I hope you would have drunk me up.”

A full, wanting, warm acceptance of himself—Not just his charm, but the monster, the ugliness in him. She wanted all of it, treasured all of him. He’d never been good enough for anyone before, just a disappointment under an illusion. But she made him feel like a god.

He groaned, composure slipping, “Ohfuckme…”

“Okay.”

“Not yet,” his grip on her arm loosened enough for him to travel up her wrists and interlace their fingers, “You haven’t earned it.”

She shouldn’t surrender. It would just be another attempt at non-existence. Why couldn’t she have answered with something along the lines of coming back to life just to drive a stake through his heart? Astarion wished it had been anything other than wanting him to have his fill, even if it meant her destruction. It was her will to be his sacrifice, to be truly devoured. He shouldn’t yearn for her so completely; cherish the way, I hope you would have drunk me up, fell out of her so blissfully, like belonging to him was a good thing.

Vistri playing with the point of his ear made him twitch and toss his head. The moan that betrayed him sounded so pathetic.

“I could wait you out.”

He chuckled, “No, you couldn’t. As much as I want you, I’m stubborn. Thrill me all you want, love, I’m determined for you to be absolutely dripping before I give you that.”

She arched her back, “I’m close.”

She wasn’t.

“Already?”

Not nearly, but worried she couldn’t give him his fantasy, she played the part.

The muscles on her face squeezed up real tight, and as her breath grew more shallow, she exhaled with high-pitched, little cries. Her tension peaked and melted away, “Already.”

It didn’t fool him one bit. In fact, he was sure that wasn’t even her finest performance. Like she’d started to pretend and went somewhere else, forgetting she was still on stage. Or a whore with ‘first day’ nerves. He was frowning when she opened her eyes.

“What?”

“Did you just fake it?!”

Vistri’s eyes grew real wide, and having been called out, laughed breathlessly, “Gods!”

“I was right! You faked it!”

She got caught up in another wave of laughter, “I’m sorry!”

Astarion smirked and tickled her sides, “Faking it doesn’t count!”

Squealing and wriggling to dodge his hands, she protested, “It wasn’t a lie! It was an attempt!”

“An attempt?! What is that supposed to mean? An attempt!”

Vistri couldn’t get a word in. She couldn’t breathe, “Please!”

He stopped tickling her so she could answer. Her breasts bounced with her heaving chest. His palms roamed over to cup them, “Did you not like it?” He’d thought of it just for her, and played with her nipples to distract himself from sudden choking disappointment. Buried in arousal, the sting ebbed away.

“No, I love it! Your thigh is heavenly, but you have other, better parts for pleasing—”

“How much better?” he interrupted in a heated tone.

Laughing, she answered, “Better than anything in the world! And not just this,” she brought her hand between his legs and gave that beloved, rock-hard part of him a squeeze, “Although it is wonderful, you have so many other parts for pleasing.”

“Just not my thigh.”

“It pleases, just not enough to bring a bout of ecstasy.”

“Do you want to stop?” He would at her command, but wasn’t ready to lose her.

She ran her hand along it, “No.”

A bright feeling ran through his spine, “You’d like to continue?”

“I do,” her hips resumed their flowing movement.

Her validation killed his fears, and so grateful for the throne to her world, a soft smile nestled in his expression, tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Give yourself time to get there, darling. It’s the journey, not the destination. I can watch you burst any time I want, but for now I want to observe as you slowly unravel.”

“Okay,” she moaned.

“And no performances this time. I will be very displeased. Do you want me displeased?”

She shook her head, “No.”

Anything but that. She’d be good for him so he wouldn’t throw her out.

“Good. Now slow down. You’re not just any rutting pup. You’re my little dragon and these sensations are your treasure. Lurk among your treasures, dear. Survey them, indulge.”

Her thrusts followed the command of his voice. She let them linger, like a slow drip.

“That’s it,” he praised, squeezing her breasts until she gasped.

Astarion looked around, and no one was in sight. The others would stay on the other side of camp for most of the evening and had no reason to pass by other than Lae’zel and Shadowheart, but it was still unlikely either of them would see.

He tugged her shirt lower, stretching it until her breasts spilled out through the top. Gravity squished them into perfect spheres under her neck, and her nipples just peaked out.

His tongue felt so warm on them. The impact of bumping into his thigh and the tight grinding against his femur were her favorite treasures, and then his roaming mouth was added to her pile. She could feel her pants bunching up as they soaked with her, and the damp cloth pinched at her skin as she humped him. The sting of it was a rainfall of coin over her glittering pile of sapphires and amethysts.

Kissing her deeply, Astarion took her hand and moved it back to his bursting laces. Their fingers tangled, undoing them together. When they were loose enough, he pulled her hand through the opening and wrapped it around his cock.

“Gods!” he groaned as she stroked him skin to skin.

Throbbing under her fingers, pulsing, hard; the perversity of her hand dipping into his trousers, riding his leg, nearing completion; his taste, his smell, his focus trained on only her: These were diamonds, so sharp they cut her. But they were so beautiful! And clear, and shone so bright!

“If I outlast you,” she sighed, “Then I win.”

She might win. Astarion did his best to hold back, but he was leaking in her hands.

“What would you win?”

“The mess of you all over my skin.”

He tried to think of something else, anything else, other than the image that conjured. It brought him too close. Teetering on the edge and planting his feet there, he moaned and it sounded like something dying.

Vistri gasped as it met her ears, bringing her closer.

His hands wandered down to her bum, and squeezed it in both hands, adding more pressure to her thrusts, bringing her closer to him. Closer and closer. Her bones started to hurt, ground away by his, but that ache was a handful of rubies, red and lush.

“Harder,” she said.

Astarion tightened his grip, leaned into her movements. He held her so near she could nuzzle her face into his shoulder. His skin was a pearl against her cheek.

“Kiss me,” Vistri pleaded, and when he did, she lost.

“I’m—” a little possession, a bit of a wail, and she could no longer speak.

In her rapture, she ceased her stroking, gripped him like a pulsing cunt, then left her palm hanging limply under his laces. His eyes were fighting to roll back when she let go, and even as he was grateful for it, just the brush of her unmoving hand was enough to be dangerous.

He pinned it above her head to take it away, “And now you’re mine to take.”

Her face was flushed, her breath still gone. “Yours to take,” she repeated as consent.

Pulling down her trousers, he found a river of her. He pushed her thighs up into her chest and took a look between them. Her pants were soaking, their slit a dark spot.

“All mine?” he asked.

She nodded, giving herself to him entirely. The fact that he wanted it made her blissful, like she belonged.

“Well, well, well,” he brought his face lower and spoke between her legs, “Might I have a taste? You smell de-licious!”

“Yes,” she whimpered, trembling. He gave a long, lingering lick along that dark spot, and she arched her back, groaning.

Astarion lifted his head to take another look around. The position they were in now was a bit more conspicuous. A dark part of him wished the others were around to watch him feed.

He kissed the back of her thighs, and she didn’t let even one of them slip by without a reaction. His tongue wrapped around the soaking strip of her pants, and he peeled them up to the crook of her knees with his teeth. A hungry whine left him, being so close to her skin flushed with pumping supper.

His nose nuzzled the back of her knee, tangling in her underwear, “Turns out a taste was just not enough. Mind if I take a bite?”

“Please!”

Her back writhed pleasantly against his cock as he sunk aching fangs into her flesh. He hadn’t anticipated the force of her leg pushing against his face. Her arms were so much weaker, and her neck never offered any resistance. Oh, but he liked it! Astarion felt vicious, attacking and taking something that fought back.

Having taken enough, he forced himself to stop. He pressed his tongue against the wound until it closed and gave it a kiss. Then he licked up every drop of crimson dripping down her lavender thigh. His tongue strayed its course, finding her middle. Vistri grabbed his head as he indulged in another kind of meal.

It was one of his parts she said was good for pleasing. She’d already earned him with one little death, but he gave her another, and another.

After the fourth, she summoned her very best begging voice, “Please, fuck me!”

His face was covered and shining with her wet. It even dripped down his throat, mixing with smears of her blood, “I thought I was.”

“Bury yourself in me.”

He made a quick vow to himself that it wouldn’t be over the moment he did. Then dove in with an uncomposed groan, “Fuck’ssake!”

The genuine sounds of what she tried to fake earlier were in his ears, right under them.

“Already?” he asked.

“Already!”

His face screwed up tight with hers, and as she pulsed around him, he yelped with the effort to hold back.

At the end of his cock, her chest pried open as if split down the middle, exposing her insides like two heavy doors creaking their welcome. Astarion felt himself crawl up her gut and slip into her heart, where sitting inside it, he could reach up with clawed, wretched fingers and tear at her throat. Then he’d kiss it better, the only one able to do so, and she’d never leave his side.

He felt her fingers on his chest, and found himself facing a pair of attentive eyes.

“Come back to me,” she asked like it was a favor, with a touch of light affection, an air of breathlessness, and enough simplicity that it was safe to come back.

“Hello there,” he smiled.

Vistri pulled him close for a kiss so full of gentle, living heat it was a hearth.

“It’s okay,” she said, forehead pressed to his, “You can let go.”

Starved of something in her tone, his body released into hers.

“Vistri!” he called out her name like it was the only thing that could save him. Then caught himself, realizing he’d been loud enough to carry across camp, “Shit!—Huh!”

Her arms flew upwards, wrapping around his head as if to help him keep his soul from seeping out. She couldn’t help the way her body responded to his echoes of pleasure by leaping into another wave of ecstasy. Just to be with him. A reflex of hers that must’ve been borne from her haunting impulse to follow him anywhere.

Unable to leave her, he let himself slide a little in and out; slow, slight strokes. Then finally stilled. They stared at each other a long while before moving apart.

“We should get cleaned up.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Right.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and giggled, “You have to get off me.”

He pecked her ear, “But I don’t want to.”

She laughed heartily and tossed him aside, “Get off me!”

“I was comfortable there!” he whined.

“Tough shit,” she grinned.

Astarion smiled back with empty eyes, sure that her grin was meant for someone else; the person he pretended to be.

“Are you all right?”

Apparently, he was unable to hide. When a lie didn’t work, there were always deflections.

“I’m more than all right! How’s your head? Didn’t steal too much of you, did I?”

“Astarion.”

When deflections failed to take, the only thing left was trading one truth for another. What could he sacrifice to keep the main thing hidden? It had to fit the same feelings as those he already wore.

“I just keep thinking… And excuse me, it’s quite selfish,” he moved some hair out of her face, “If you’d gotten what you wanted, you and I would never have met.”

Her round eyes were so fragile as they looked into his. All of her walls were knocked over, and the part of her that sat there was all raw existence.

She grabbed his hand, kissing his fingers. “All right then,” she rolled those round, breakable eyes, admitting, “I’m glad we did.”

Vistri was his. He squeezed her hand as if to tell her, never let go.

Rooted to the spot, they sat together and looked out at the view, actually seeing it this time. They deserved to have a nice sunset. One nice sunset.

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“I’m just taking everything in. Look at it! Aren’t you glad we aren’t just stuffed in your tent?”

Astarion raised his brow, “Insulting my castle is no way to get invited back, you know.”

She giggled and nudged his shoulder with hers, “It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“You sure?”

She laughed, “Are you scolding me, Astarion?”

“No!”

“You are! Like you’re my mother or something! Well… Not my mother. She wouldn’t give a shit if I hurt myself. She scolded me plenty, but only over being an embarrassment or an inconvenience. Sometimes both.”

Vistri never talked about her past with any of them. Not even himself, who couldn’t stop telling her about Cazador once he started. It made Astarion hold his breath, afraid to chase away her confessions with the slightest disturbance.

“Gods! How in the hells did I end up talking about my mother? What a silly thing…”

Astarion leaned back, “I don’t know. Probably for the same reason I mention Cazador from time to time. If she’s as bad as she sounds.”

Vistri chuckled, “Her and Cazador would probably be friends.”

“He did often call me an embarrassment and an inconvenience.”

Vistri looked down shyly, “You’re not either of those things to me.”

Astarion took her hand, “Thank you. And neither are you. You know that, right?”

“You flatterer,” she teased.

His smile was a heapful of sorrow. All his lies were true, and his truth was a lie. His pretty songs echoed his real heartbeats. His determination to trap her was a sham, for he’d got caught up in it himself. She was right, Astarion was a flatterer, but he also wasn’t.

Neither confirming nor denying his accusation, Vistri settled for the worst case answer. He was probably looking for an excuse to leave. They always met up for this so much later in the night, and the sun hadn’t fully set yet.

Not wanting him to go, she turned her attention back to the view around them, “You know this big crater around us was probably an ocean before?”

“Actually?” he asked, grateful for a change of subject.

“It’s what must have made this shape. Well, that or a god’s great big fist,” Vistri rambled, “But I bet we’d find a lot of old bones in this stone if we looked for them. That’s what would tell us for sure.”

Astarion brushed his fingers lightly over her fist. She opened it so his fingers fell gently into her palm. He stroked along its curves until she closed her fingers around them.

“Would they be fish bones?”

“Ancient fish bones! And they probably wouldn’t even look like any fish we know. They might even look like monsters!”

“You like those,” he smirked, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t think of you as a monster. I think of you as a vampire.”

Like he was part of a species and not just a classification of Undead. Natural, and not a twisted version of life. Heart aching with the idea, Astarion’s eyes softened, showing Vistri an emotion she wasn’t sure he was capable of. Something she’d given up on ever earning from anyone. 

“A rather refreshing perspective. Just look at that waterfall! Isn’t it darling? And that little river that runs with it.”

Vistri nodded her head against his breast and stated theatrically, “All that remains of a mighty, prehistoric sea.”

The colors in the sky were candy-bright before they grew dark. They were still holding onto each other’s hands when the stars came out, even though they’d shifted positions as often as conversation topics.

It was only allowed because they pretended not to notice.

Lying down was better for looking out at the stars, but Vistri was so exhausted, it was hard not to slip into trance whenever she blinked her eyes. Astarion watched it take over, her face tucked in the nook of his shoulder.

Poor thing. She didn’t deserve to be cast under his spell, another of his cursed conquests. Even though Baldur’s Gate was still far away, and the tadpole took away the power of compulsion, every time his heart skipped for her, it sang, Caz-a-dor, Caz-a-dor, take her to Caz-a-dor! Any time he felt a part of himself wishing they’d met much sooner, Astarion was reminded she would have just been discarded like all the rest.

Sighing, he tried to slip into his trance. He closed his eyes. Opened them. They were on a cliff, how stupid would they be to remain unconscious here. Careful not to rouse her, Astarion untangled himself from her grasp to get up and carry her.

With his cursed heart pumping her dragon blood through his muscles, she was so easy to whisk away. He had to look where he was stepping, but her face proved such a distraction. The moonlight bounced off her silver scales and set her periwinkle skin aglow.

He smiled, stopping for a moment to appreciate—”Mother of fuck!”

Lolth didn’t guide her Drow towards pretty memories, she filled their heads with living nightmares. Whatever Vistri saw in her trance, it wasn’t bunnies. Still deeply within it, she’d reached out and punched Astarion vaguely in the nose with a whimper. He almost dropped her.

“Hells, girl!” he muttered, readjusting her in his arms.

At least some part of her fought back. The pulsing pain in his face was a reminder of what he deserved. As he walked passed the dying campfire, he leaned over and blew angrily into it, hoping that was enough to revive it but not really giving a shit either way. Then he tucked them through his tent flaps, and set her down with care.

She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Just one part of her face; whether the metallic scales across her brow with her eyes closed under them, the shape of her nose and a peek of cheekbone at the side, or her pouting lips that rested over her chin; was equivalent to an entire sunset watched from a cliffside, on a mountain, towering above lively rivers and waterfalls. Such beauty required a tenderness he was too base to give. Pride in ownership soiled the sweet whispers of his heart. Greed reverberated through him, and loathing for himself echoed out of every pore. 

Astarion frowned as he surveyed Vistri on the floor of his tent. She couldn’t be too comfortable. Torn between the idea of fixing it and accidentally waking her, he started to pace around for a solution.

Like a sickly, potent stomach acid, he’d consume her slowly; digested through the mouth, by his tongue. His doing. He had a rot he needed someone else to hold.

With no good way to toss her into a bedroll, he made a nest of some blankets, and rolled her on top. Treating her like a baby bird, he adjusted her neck to rest on a cushion. He moved hair away from her face, caressed her cheek, and stopped himself from planting a peck on her brow.

He changed his mind as he settled in next to her. His racing thoughts made trance unreachable, but when his lips met her cool forehead, a peace came over him. Astarion took a deep breath through his nose before pulling away, and his eyes thickened with a bit of moisture.

“Rest up,” he whispered. And when he next closed his eyes, trance came to him. Unlike hers, it was his only refuge from nightmares.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

[pearlzier]

okay i Lied, i’m Not faceless, it was actually Me who sent beau + puppygirl!gf😧 i just got scared to send it like.. Not on anon, cus i just never know how ppl will react to certain things and i get nervy, but like i also trusted in a way that You Would Get It, and you Do so i’m not nervy anymore😸🤞🏼

i definitely have plans to write abt this (maybe multiple parts, idk yet) but it’s just been Eating away at me for awhile now and i can’t keep these thoughts in or i’ll explode and die so i’m glad you’re in the brainrot with me now. i may or may not also make a bot, who knows.. i’m already planning a couple sling themed ones with beau (cus my beau sling coded brainrot also goes crazy)

anyways, MORE BEAU AND HIS PUPPYGIRL THOUGHTS!!!!!

she definitely gets excited every time they go to the store and see Anything relating to any of her hyperfixations. like beau literally can’t even let her go to the store by herself anymore cus she has absolutely zero impulse control and will buy All of it and go broke.

irdk what is and isn’t okay for me to say here in regards to nswf things so i’ll keep those to myself for the moment

she Absolutely is texting beau while she’s getting her nails done and asking him what colors she should get. one time she got a cute cowboy/sheriff themed set for him (like cowboy hat, longhorn skull, belt buckle, badge, the whole nine) and he tweaked tf out.

CAR RIDES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i can go into My More Specific Details on this, but it mostly speaks for itself.. just- CAR RIDES💗💗

she made him buy a small outside couch for the deck of the trailer so they could cuddle more easily when they watch movies, and she’s Definitely laying there curled up with her head in his lap while he plays with her hair…. and she ends up falling asleep only a few minutes into the movie like Almost every time, cus her hair is a weak spot and he has Magic Hands.

she’s one to wear the frolicking in a flower field at 4:00 dresses with stomp a hoe at 5:00 big chunky platform boots combo (has the black demonia camel-311’s to match beau’s black aviator jacket, and the og ‘camel color’ tan ones to match his tan suede jacket)

my beau + puppygirl!gf and beau + stoner!gf headcanons kinda go hand in hand, so… she definitely also smokes🤞🏼 (this is more of me projecting)

So. Many. stuffed animals

OCT..... THE BRAINWORMS IM HAVIN AT THIS VERY MOMENT I CANT EVEN !!!&!;;@;# when i read the first thoughts i was thinking you'd LOVE them so much when i see beau i think of u most definitely GUYS LISTEN TO THIS GENIUS :((((( BEAU X PUPPYGIRL!GF IM TWEAKING OUT SO HARD AUGH im freaking the FUCK out 😞💓 STUFFED ANIMALS!!!!!!!!! EEK

[egittae]

[a kiss to distract]

Any means necessary, he was going to knock that scraggily prince down a peg! He didn't care that this uppity brat was stronger or faster than him! He was going to win.

As it was, they were even but he was far too tired to keep this up and the bastard had already somehow snapped his hair type which didn't help the horrid summer heat of the academy's training hall. He was well aware it was most likely scummy...however if it worked, it worked. With the last burst of energy, Matthias had lunged forward, yet his lance stayed low, practically already falling out of his hands, His target was much harder to mark. His free hand had come up to lower the lance he knew Lambert would raise, and as he closed the short distance, his lips had landed on Lambert's and his heart suddenly started beating in his ears.

Hardly a second had gone by before in one swift motion he pulled back and sent the training lance's head straight into the side of Lambert's neck.

academy phase - flashback

A smirk was plastered on his face for the entire battle so far, as the prince knew it was going to be an easy win for him. He had all the advantages- the speed, the raw strength, and the fact that between the two he was the better one wielding a lance, while Matthias’ prowess lay in handling axes. With the winds in his favor, it was but a matter of time until he managed to tire out his opponent and get the finishing blow.

“What’s wrong, Matt? Not a fan of a battle’s heat? That’s too bad!” He teased the other, disregarding the fact that much like him, Lambert was also from the north and as a result also underperformed under harsh sunlight and higher temperatures- but the idea of an upcoming victory left him drunk on the feeling. Besides, it was just a little teasing to get Matthias smart on his feet.

Noticing how his opponent was about to bolt towards him, the prince already began moving as to parry the weapon and possibly get his winning shot- but it seemed that he had misread Matthias’ plan slightly. A hand pushed his lance down before he could’ve raised it to block a blow, leaving the prince stunned for a second too long to counter the move.

And then what happened after- a pair of lips pressed against his own, managed to stun him for even longer than that, his mind going blank for a moment as he failed to grasp the situation. Or at least, until he felt the blunt tip of Matthias’ training lance against his neck, marking the true victor of their sparring session.

The kiss broke and Lambert stood there, his face changing from pink to an angry red all the way to his ears. He wasn’t sure what was worse- the confusion, the annoyance at having lost, the anger at Matthias for pulling up those stupid ass moves- 

“M…Matthias! Matthias what the fuck! You and your bastard ideas- augh!” Lambert brashly turned around, not giving the other the satisfaction of seeing any more embarrassment in his face. “That was my first damn kiss too! And it was you!” And then he turned around again, tried to break his training lance on Matthias’ head as it was routine for their squabbles, but failed- his grip was too loose and the lance went flying. Letting out an exasperated and very much embarrassed whine, he turned around again- stomping this time.

“...”

“...hehehe. I’m gonna tell that adrestian girl what you just did! She’s never gonna dance with you at the Ethereal Ball now!” The threat was empty. Lambert was trying to save face and show that he hadn’t been defeated when he had- as well as to get an excuse to run off somewhere quiet and alone so his heart could settle down. A stupid battle strategy shouldn’t be getting it so worked up, after all.

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

It takes a village to raise a family part 4

Part 3 , part 5

Rural au, once again, by the amazing @angelpuns

Tw: this short contains descriptions of late stage hyperthermia and brief hints at death during a talk

My husband has 3 rules during the winter. "Wear warm clothes, don't drink or eat anything cold, and do not walk outside unless you can see light".

Well, one fine winter my husband fell sickly ill, along with my youngest. Not only where they on my mind so where the young turtles, little Leo would wander from the rest, Mikey as excited as ever to be in town, so much so his eyes where a guide that never stayed on path...little Donnie whose own body couldn't stand on its own and little raph as head strong as a bull.

The last thing I remembered before stepping into the snow storm was shoving my feet in my boots, I had no time for socks. Throwing on my coat, I had no time for layers. The slam of the door as the wind argued it's point against me, but I would not listen. I was out of medicine and time.

Then there was cold, and wind, and white everywhere. I couldn't see more than two feet ahead, we didn't have many storms in the winter.

I could barely make out lights of lanterns inside houses, stumbling as my feet sunk into the snow. At some point I remember tripping a lot, feeling like hands were grabbing at my ankles, wrapping around my boots.

I don't remember much, but I do remember hearing shouting not far from me. I remember when the cold started to warm. And then it got hotter...and hotter. My cloak was too warm, I was wearing too much. I would roast in this weather.

I remember just barely pulling off my cloak before it got snatched right back over my head, a gruff and angered voice shouting at me to keep it on. Burning hot hands touching both sides of my face. "let go-!"

I don't even think I could hear my voice clearly, but I heard his just fine. "no! You are coming inside with me!" It was a demand, no room for argument, stomping of feet and creaking of wood I knew to be a porch, a specific porch with specific creaky spots.

I remember how i barely felt being lifted, I could barely feel the shoulder I was on if it wasn't for how warm it was. I barely remember the chatter of the turtle boys.

Then, time went past with every blink.

The bright of fire, the crackling, the burning feeling.

The way the kids looked as I kicked and fought their father over a blanket, shaking and biting. The way metallic tasted on my tongue as I snagged his hand.

I would blink again and I had a cup in one hand, Mikey's in the other, Splinter pulling away snow from my fur with gloves, tossing it into a bucket that Raph watched from behind. "I know it's hot, it's okay, let it burn. I know it's burning let it burn" I could barely feel the tears that froze to my face pulling off my fur.

I would blink again and now Donnie and Leo where at another side, rambling about some book from the market, Splinter's warm hands cupped around my ears. "Pay attention to those words Flint!" A snappy voice laced with anger and fear. A demand, a protest.

And then it was as if time got slower, the boys all curled up asleep and Splinter staring at me, sitting on the floor. "...your eyes. You paying attention?"

"mm.." i barely moved my head and the room was blurring again, tears building up.

"alright...keep...keep talking to me...keep on talking.." he got up and then I felt warm on the side of my face. I couldn't help the noise that came out, or the burning hot tears that flooded out afterwards.

"I know..I know it burns.."

"augh!" It felt like I was boiling from the inside and burning from the outside, the heat from the fire, the boys and Splinter was uncomfortable..even more uncomfortable once I saw my fingers move but I couldn't feel it.

"s-splin-..splin-ta-..I- I can't-" it felt like my throat was tightening, but Splinter sat beside me and pulled me into his side. He didn't say another word, not until my crying had stopped and all I could let out was Shakey breaths.

"...you really are an idiot..." Splinter spoke, not with anger but something I've never heard in his voice before.

"wh...what?" When I turned to look at him, his eyes were lost from reality...really...glossy and sad looking.

"why did you go out...? It's storming and you are little- not only that you-..you nearly froze-"

"...my family is sick..your boys c-could have gotten sick...I-i was out of medicine.." the shame flickered inside my chest, only to be drowned out but a laugh. One of both mockery and disbelief. Eyes wide and filled with shock in this human's eyes.

"Flint, you sound like a buddy of mine..." His voice was filled with anger and mournfulness. "you know, I was a soldier..." He starts, glancing to see if I was paying attention, of course I was. I could listen to him forever.

"...we had a mission, one day. It was snowing that day, we had to rescue our medics.." He went silent, then he shook his head slightly, blinking away at some thoughts that I would never get to hear. "...they got too warm, just like you. We didn't bring back our medics"

"...I don't...i-.." it clicked and the cold that washed over was worse than anything I had felt before. The more I think about it the more I realize I barely know Splinter. He's my neighbor, I help with his kids and he built me a pump for water. We learned to cook for our family, yet we never shared stories...well. I did, Splinter didn't.

There was more to him than I would ever understand, but...for now....

I felt him jump as I put my head against his side, moving my tail to cover his hand, situated in his own lap...now that I saw it, it was soaked, and trembling..or well I was trembling...but it was nothing compared to the slump that Splinter gave. One that meant he understood the gesture.

That no matter what I would always, be here to listen.

[b3gxcryz]

@snufflvr92

[It was a usual night for Felix. Quiet, alone in his cell, just sitting on his cot with a lit cigarette in his mouth…it was mind numbing. Meanwhile, Fox was already fast asleep in his room and had appointed one of his employees to be on night guard duty beforehand to keep his captives in check, comfortably snoring in the nest he made on his bed. The younger man heard the footsteps from the guard patrolling outside, they loudly clicked and echo’d throughout the halls.

Ugh.

He slammed his head against the wall in boredom as he began to think about that guy that contacted him earlier; The snuff streamer that came WAY before Fox…one that apparently had some sort of past with him. He thought about that promise to break the blonde out of that cell, to free him from this mess he got himself dragged into. Was he even being honest? Was that guy just fucking with him? Could it have been just a troll that hacked his old account to mess with people?!

Felix sighed and took another puff from his cigarette, staring at the developing mold on the cells ceiling as he was DESPERATE for something to stimulate his mind. He prayed it wasn’t a troll, he hoped that guy was being serious about it. How would he do it though?! Fox has this placed locked up tight like Fort Knox.

Fuck.

He eventually put the cigarette butt out on his arm as he usually would, laying down on his uncomfortable cot as his eyes slowly started to close. He can sleep off the boredom, at least.

*STOMP* *STOMP* *STOMP*

Suddenly he heard additional, unfamiliar footsteps in the hallway that snapped him awake, his head whipping towards the metal door. They sounded like…stomping from heavy work boots?!

What the fuck?!]

“Hey! Who the fuck are yo- AUGH!”

*THUD* *THUD* *THUD*

“Ruhig, Arschloch!”

…

[It got quiet. Too quiet. The silence was almost eerie. Then, suddenly interrupting the silence, Felix heard the jingling sound of keys, and then out of nowhere…

*Click!*

The metal door to his cell SLAMMED open. The blonde man was almost expecting to see Fox standing there, ready to drag his ass off to that stream room, maybe he was pissed off at that employee for god knows what reason, but he didn’t recall the older man speaking in German…EVER. Instead, he was greeted by a taller, larger, and slightly younger looking man stepping into the cell, chuckling under his breath.

It definitely wasn’t Fox, nor any of his employees.

The man in question had about medium length brunette hair, it looked slightly slicked back yet VERY unkept as well. His skin was much more tan than Felix’s, and his orange-brown eyes looked oddly similar to Fox’s, but he had this…unnerving stare that weirded the other out very quickly. The most notable thing about him was his boar-like ears and tail, definitely a beastkin like Fox too.]

“Hey there, buddy. Told you I’d come!~ Sorry if I scared you or woke you up, I had to take care of that meathead outside right quick!”

[This guys German accent was VERY thick, but it was…oddly charming and almost felt comforting. He started walking around the cramped room, inspecting it for a moment out of curiosity. His wide nose wrinkled when he saw the mold growth on the ceiling, showing clear disgust for it.]

“Mein Gott! Does he not clean this place up every once in a while?! That can cause some serious damage to you!”

[The German man then turned to Felix, inspecting him now instead to take his mind off the mold. His eyebrow rose when he noticed that VERY familiar collar around the others neck. It almost made him grin, knowing that his little fox kept it this entire time, but he managed to hide his excitement upon seeing it as he quickly dug into his jackets pocket for something.]

“Turn around and hold still. I need to get that off of you…For now.”

[He then pulled out an oddly shaped key from his pocket, it was silver and matched a certain hole in the back of the shock collar Fox forced around his neck a while back for “training”.

Where the hell did he find that key?!

Nonetheless, Felix obeyed his orders and turned around as the other laid a calloused hand on his shoulder, holding him still before he crammed the key into the hole.

*Click!*

Oh my god. Finally.

The collar deactivated and snapped open as the brunette man pulled it off of Felix’s pale neck and stuffed it into the same pocket he found the key in, the burn scars that now decorated Felix’s neck giving away that it had definitely been used on him SEVERAL TIMES.

Heh. How adorable.]

“There we go! Bet that feels MUCH better, don’t it?~

Anyways let’s blow this joint, ja?”