#and even if I were to bring gender into the conversation

[peppermintquartz]

I'm a year older than Lou.

Growing up, homosexual people were Evil. Therefore they were afflicted with AIDS. That was the equation taught to us: gay = AIDS = painful death

Being gay was bad. If your peers didn't like you, they'd just call you gay and ostracized you for "acting homo" such as liking the wrong kinda art or music or idk reading the wrong books. Or reading in general. You had to like the stuff that was acceptably masculine or feminine, not cross the gender divide. Girls had to have long hair. Boys had to like sports.

I live in a conservative country. Queer literature or information was impossible to find for years. Even now it's difficult to find. Conversion therapy was - still is - a thing.

I didn't even know about bisexuality until I was in my early 20s even though I had crushes on my female classmates. And when I realized that I was bisexual, I had to sit with that realization for a bit. I never acted on my attraction to women, though.

That would have been the environment Tommy Kinard grew up in and probably it was worse for him. Coming out after decades of conditioning to reject that part of himself. Am I projecting? Probably. But the fact remains that the world wasn't kind to queer people growing up before they were allowed to be openly queer.

Bring us back our Tommy. He survived some hard times. He deserves love and kindness now.

[kurczakmarty]

This is a very much “delete later” post but I was thinking today how I’ll probably never be able to get a mastectomy, and I started crying at like 5 am…

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[trans-axolotl]

one of the reasons it's really hard for a lot of intersex people when intersex topics are on the news cycle is because the public's reaction reveals how little anyone knows or cares about intersex people, including people who call themselves our allies. almost every time intersex topics are trending, the discourse surrounding them is filled with misinformation. people who only learned today what the word intersex means jump into conversations and act like an authority. endosex/dyadic/perisex people get tripped up over things that are basically intersex 101, with tons of endosex people incorrectly arguing about the definition of intersex, who "counts," DSD terminology, and so much more. i've seen multiple endosex people say today that they've been "warning intersex people" and that we should have known that transphobia would catch up with us eventually, which is an absolutely absurd thing to say given the fact that consistently over the past ten years, it has often been intersex people sounding the alarm on sex-testing policies and also the fact that many, many intersex people are also trans, and already are facing the impacts of transphobia. there is an absolute failure from the general public to take intersex identity seriously; people seem not even able to fathom that intersex people have a community, history, and our own political resources. instead, endosex people somehow seem to think they're helping by bringing up half-remembered information from their high school biology class which usually isn't even relevant at all.

and this frustrates me so fucking much. not because i want to deny the impacts of transphobic oppression--i'm a trans intersex person, trust me when i say i am intimately aware of transphobia. this frustrates me because there is no way we can achieve collective liberation if our "allies" fail to even engage with basic intersex topics and are seemingly unaware of the many forms of intersex oppression that we are already facing every fucking day. if you are not aware of compulsory dyadism, if you are not aware of interphobia, if you are not aware of the many different ways that intersex people are directly and often violently targeted--how the fuck do you think we're going to dismantle all of these systems of oppression?

if you were truly an intersex ally, you would already KNOW that this is not new, and would not be surprised--interphobia in sports has been going on for decades. you would know that we do have a community, an identity, a history--you would have already read/listened/watched to intersex resources that give you the background information you need for allyship. you would know that although there is a really distinct lack of resources and political education, that intersex people ARE developing a political understanding of ourselves and our oppression--Cripping Intersex by Celeste Orr and their framework of compulsory dyadism is one example of how we're theorizing our oppression. It's absolutely fucking wild to me how few people I've seen actually use words like "interphobia" "intersexism" "compulsory dyadism" or "intersex oppression"--endosex people are seemingly incapable of recognizing that there is already an entrenched system of oppression towards intersex people that violently reshapes our bodies, restricts our autonomy, and attempts to eradicate intersex through a variety of medical and legal means.

you cannot treat intersex people like an afterthought. not just because we're meaningful parts of your community and deserving of solidarity, but also because intersex oppression impacts everyone!!! especially trans community--trans people will not be free until intersex people are free, so much of transphobia is shaped by compulsory dyadism, the mythical sex binary, all these ideas of enforced "biological sex" that are just as fake as the gender binary.

it makes me absolutely fucking livid every time this shit happens because it becomes so abundantly clear to me how little the average endosex person knows about intersex issues and also how little the average endosex person cares about changing that. i don't know what to say to get you to care, to get you to change that, but we fucking need it to happen and i, personally, am tired of constantly being grateful when i meet an endosex person who knows the bare minimum. i think we have a right to expect better and to demand that if you're going to call yourself our ally, you actually fucking listen to us when we tell you what that means.

okay for endosex people to reblog.

[pomefioredove]

Can we have more of snuggles for hire please?! > <

YES always. I need more cuddle content

part one (leona, tweels, vil)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire (encore)

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: blurbs characters: rook, idia, silver additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, rook is rook as usual

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

You were slouched over your desk, dozing off over an essay you hadn't even started yet, when your door flies open.

"Prefect!" Epel shouts, his eyes wide with panic. Immediately, dread sets in. Had someone else overblotted? Was Grim in trouble?

"I'm sorry! I was looking for Vil, but he found me first!"

Huh? "What do you mean b-"

"Oh, Trickster~!"

That question answers itself. In a blink, Epel is gone, bolting before he could get dragged into this. Rook lets himself in, smiling as if he'd just won a million thaumarks.

"Ah, there you are~! I have been waiting for your call!"

You blink. "...Hi, Rook. What?"

He slides his hands under your arms, and lifts you like a cat. You remind yourself that he's much stronger than he looks.

"How my heart ached, watching you suffer! But I had to be patient- I had to wait for your call, Trickster! And when I heard Monsieur Pommette was looking for someone to come to your aid... I knew it had to be me!"

Rook sits you in his lap, squeezing you as if you were a small, cute animal. Which, to him, you sort of were. "Now, rest. I will comfort you!"

"Rook," you say, smothered in his arms, "This really isn't necessary."

"For your health, it is," he boops your nose. "Bonne nuit, mon ange."

With the way he's cooing and cuddling you so closely to him, you know there's no getting out of this.

...Not that you're complaining. He's right, after all. And you're really just grateful that he decided to break in while you were awake.

You're still going to have to kick Epel's butt for it, anyway.

"I already told you, I don't have a problem,"

Ortho Shroud beeps at you. "Incorrect. Your hormonal levels and kinesics indicate you've been sleeping poorly," he says. "...And the other first years were talking about it."

Of course, you sigh. Ace and Deuce. "It's not that bad,"

"Then perhaps you would be interested in solving another problem?"

He brings you down a long, cold hallway, and stops at a door. You hadn't been inside Ignihyde before, but with all the tech stuff, you figure there's some kind of freaky sleep machine in there.

You raise an eyebrow. "I dunno. The technology here is pretty weird,"

"Not that kind of problem!" Ortho opens the door with a giggle. "Idia, look who's here!"

To your surprise (horror? delight?) there's no sleep machine. Just one wide-eyed, blushing, terrified Idia Shroud.

By the look on his face, you can tell he knows just as much about this as you do. He and Ortho exchange glances, having an entire silent conversation while you awkwardly stand in the doorway.

Finally, Ortho looks at you: "Idy has been having similar troubles with sleeping,"

"Ortho-"

"I thought you might be able to help each other!"

Idia looks about ready to crawl under his bed and hide. You look between the two.

"Is he okay?"

"Oh, don't worry! He always gets nervous around pretty people!"

He makes a noise like a deflating balloon. Ortho giggles. "I'll see you later!"

He leaves, and a whir and a thump follow him. You stare. "He took the door knob,"

Despite all the awkward staring and blushing and groaning, you end up in the same bed, anyway, lost in a tangle of limbs that is somehow both awkward and comfortable. Idia is a lot warmer than he looks. And a very, very clingy sleeper.

You'll both lament about how terrible it was to Ortho in the morning, and you'll both leave out the fact that if it really were so terrible, one of you could've just slept on the floor.

But... you didn't. And you won't tomorrow night, either.

When you told your friends you'd been summoned to Diasomnia, they looked at you as if you'd just said your exact time and place of death.

Ace and Deuce whisper-shouted something about "not telling him", but you didn't ask. You weren't worried about Malleus, after all.

...Except that the person waiting for you in the lounge isn't Malleus.

"Oh... hey, Silver. Did you...?"

You hold up the summons, and he nods. The way he's avoiding your eyes is almost... shy. Bashful.

"Sebek came back from class yesterday yelling about you... he made it sound like you were dying," Silver says, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"...But if it's just insomnia, I can help."

You blink. "Oh... I appreciate it, but..."

...You can't bring yourself to finish that sentence. He just looks... tense. This isn't exactly an offer he makes to most, after all.

You're just special.

And you need that.

You sit beside him in comfortable silence. The lights in the Diasomnia lounge are already dim, and it's as quiet and solemn as ever. Silver guides you into a soft position against him, your head on his shoulder, his head on yours, his arm around you, and he falls asleep.

Maybe it's just the exhaustion finally catching up to you, but it's surprisingly easy to follow his lead and fall asleep against him.

You dream of him that night.

[retrosabers]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄.

logan howlett x fem! reader

summary: logan’s possessive side makes an appearance after he sees you with a stranger at the bar

contains: smut content below the cut. MINORS DNI. penetration (p in v), hickies (fem receiving), sex in a public place, swearing, a bit of possessive!logan , kinda rushed ending

word count: 1.6k

“logan slow down!” you squeal, trailing behind your boyfriend as he drags you down the hallway to the bathroom. you don’t miss the way wade wiggles his eyebrows at the two of you from the table on the other side of the room, making a rather lewd motion with his hand and mouth.

“grab your vibrators ladies, gents, and gender non conforming sluts,” he whispers to god only knows who. “this is gonna get good.”

you have to wrap your other hand around his bicep to steady yourself, nearly tripping over your own feet as you finally approach the dingy restroom back in the deepest corner of the bar. logan doesn’t spare you a glance over his shoulder as he fumbles with the doorknob, muttering curses under his breath.

another flustered sound leaves your mouth as he ushers you inside, his large hands pushing into your ass with a fervor that you’ve never seen outside of the bedroom.

as soon as the lock clicks behind him, your body gets pressed up against the door, logan crowding your space with dark eyes and bared teeth.

the green eyed monster did always tend to bring out the animal in him.

in an instant, his mouth is on yours. tongue prodding between your lips with such intensity it already has your knees wobbling. he devours your mouth like it’s his god given right, the taste of whiskey and tobacco a familiar flavor that makes your brain feel fuzzy.

he was consuming all your senses. calloused palms rubbing over the expanse of your exposed skin, mouth moving synchronously with your own all the while the only sound in the room was his heavy breathing.

all you could think about was logan, logan, logan. just how he wanted. and he hadn’t even managed to touch you properly yet.

his lips and hands move in tandem as wet sloppy kisses trail down the column of your throat. the breathy “fuck” that you let out only makes his cock strain harder against the tight denim.

“don’t fuckin’ like the way that guy was lookin’ at you,” logan groans between kisses, his voice somehow even deeper than normal. it sends a new wave of excitement down your spine, the dampness between your legs growing at the thought of what was to come.

logan was always insatiable. but when he was jealous, when he was borderline possessive? you could let him have his way with you whenever and wherever he so pleased.

“doesn’t matter,” you counter weakly. “m’yours logan. and he knows that.”

he chuckles darkly against your skin. a sound that has you clenching around nothing.

“oh, but i don’t think he does sweetheart,” logan coos before beginning to suck on your earlobe. the moan you let out feels like music to his ears. and he intends on making sure everyone can hear your sweet symphony.

“think that prick may need a reminder to not touch things that aren’t his.”

this whole ordeal started when an old friend spotted you waiting at the bar for drinks. it was nothing more than casual conversation, a friendly game of catch up that was completely harmless.

until logan saw another man’s hand squeeze your shoulder.

he didn’t need to know what the reason was, even if it was only a polite and fleeting thing. because despite the green he felt inside, all he could see was red.

so he decided instead of breaking out the claws and causing an unwanted scene, he would have to let his anger out in another way instead.

you instinctually spread your legs as logan slots himself between them, the heavy weight of his hard cock maddening against your clothed cunt. a gasp escapes both of you at the contact, the air in the small room growing hotter and heavier as the tension intensified.

logan didn’t need to feel you to know you were dripping. fuck, he could smell it, caught a whiff of your arousal before you probably even knew it was there. but he’s nothing if not cocky when it comes to you, and he traces his rough fingertips up the warm skin of your inner thighs anyway. he stops right at the crease between your pelvis and thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most.

“did he do that?” logan snarls, snaking his thumb under the hem of your panties. he begins rubbing featherlight circles against your clit, satisfied to find you absolutely soaked.

you shake your head briskly, reveling in the small touch. “s’all you logan.”

“damn fuckin’ right it is.”

you whine as he yanks his hand away from you, only to hurriedly unclasp his belt in one swift motion. it sends another wave of heat down to your core, and your hips jerk forward on instinct as he quickly pulls his cock out from the confines of his bottoms.

“m’gonna make sure that motherfucker knows,” he whispers low and throaty in your ear, giving himself a few quick strokes before lining up with your entrance. “y’gonna let me?”

your breathy “please” is permission enough, and logan slams his length inside you without warning. you were so wet already that he didn’t need to take his time prepping you with his mouth or fingers, his domineering nature enough to have you slick and ready for the taking.

logan doesn’t waste any time, already working up to a steady pace as his hands palm at the globes of your ass, guiding you to bounce on his length. it knocks the air out of your lungs, moans and whimpers pouring from your lips at a rather embarrassing volume. but when you try to quiet yourself, logan isn’t having it.

“uh-uh honey,” he growls, his hot breath fanning your cheek. “let me hear you.”

and you were always one to obey his commands.

logan moves you up and down his cock at the same time he cants his hips into you, arching your back at just the right angle that makes you sing with no control. your head is thrown back in ecstasy at the feeling, baring your neck to your boyfriend.

there’s some extra skin exposed tonight. you’re wearing that one low cut top that always drove him crazy, showing off your collarbones and a bit of cleavage. it made you look delectable, even more than normal.

logan’s anger boils once more at the thought of some other guy wanting you like this. thinking he had a fucking sliver of a chance with you. it stirs the primal nature that sits buried inside him, something that only reveals itself in pure lust driven moments like these.

he needs to stake his claim. in any and every way possible.

when logan’s mouth attaches to your jugular, you whine in content. he always knew your sweet spots. how much pressure to apply and where to get you clamping around him in record time. a spark of confusion rises in you as logan slowly drags his teeth up and down the column of your throat, ebbing an all new electricity in your core.

you’re not prepared for the sensations that follow.

the assault logan performs on your neck will likely have you wearing turtlenecks and scarves for at least a week. but it feels so euphoric you can’t be bothered to care. he alternates between harsh suction and gentle caresses of the tongue, almost soothing you from his handiwork. he paints your delicate skin with lilac marks that will soon develop into shades of plum. a masterpiece on his muse.

each graze of his canines against your neck is accompanied with a thrust that hits a spot deep in you. so far in it feels as though he’s in your entire body, completely consuming you from the inside out.

“fuck, logan,” you moan unabashedly, your nails digging harshly into the fabric of his white t-shirt. the sound of his name leaving your lips only spurs him on, angling his hips with a particularly deep stroke that has you seeing stars.

“that’s right,” he sneers smugly. his grip on you tightens as he stares back at the blossoming bruises with satisfaction. “i gotcha.”

you can feel the tension growing in your abdomen. a sign of your approaching release. logan can sense it too, and he’s determined to make you fall apart.

he takes control, smushing your body against the door and pistoning up into your cunt. one hand remains securely around your hip while the other snakes between your legs, his thumb finding your clit with ease.

the pressure of the harsh circles he rubs against you coupled with the pace of his movements bring you dangerously close to the edge, a high pitched mixture of whimpers and logan’s name falling from your lips like a mantra.

he licks a long stripe up your neck, savoring the saltiness of the sweat coating your skin.

“come on sweetheart,” logan murmurs in your ear, a rather sweet contrast to how roughly he’s fucking into you. “cum for me.”

the dichotomy is what makes the tension snap, a loud cry leaving you as your orgasm washes over every inch of your body. you preen in logan’s hold, thankful for the enhanced strength that prevents his motions from faltering.

your warm walls clenching around him felt like heaven, a paradise he never wants to leave. he fucks you through the journey to his own climax, waves of overstimulation pricking at your skin.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you cum,” logan grunts, chasing his high. he punctuates every word with a deep thrust before finally coating your insides with his release.

“and all. fuckin’. mine.”

thanks for reading! <3

[waldau-archived]

the most handsome man in the world — seventeen | 1,165 words | fluff

i just needed to get this out of my system okay

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

premise: you tell your boyfriend you've seen a guy you consider to be the most handsome man in the world, wait for him to react, and then show him a picture of him that you took. you know, because he's the most handsome man in the world.

seungcheol

what do you mean you’ve seen a guy more handsome than him? isn’t he broad enough to fill up your entire line of vision? pouts at you cooing over said man on your phone till you hit a little nerve by saying the guy looks like he’d be so good to cuddle with that he immediately marches over to see who you’re giggling over. only to find his face staring back at him. immediately wipes off his frown and tickles you for having done something like that.

jeonghan

is aware that this has to be one of your traps where you want to draw a reaction out of him, so he holds out on giving any commentary for however long he can. it’s only when you roll over in bed, clutching your phone to your chest does he finally break, sneakily pulling you into himself so he can see who you’re talking about. it’s him, of course. had no doubt it would be him but he had to confirm. becomes the big spoon for the rest of the night.

joshua

you don’t ever bring up other people or their attractiveness in conversations, so joshua is mildly interested in hearing if you’re going to elaborate on this guy. doesn’t even consider said person to be a threat till you say something about this guy looking reliable enough to imagine a future with. his curiosity wins and he leans over to see his face lighting up your screen. gives you a kiss to remind you he’s going to fulfill that dream one day.

junhui

is torn between wanting to know who this person is and also not wanting to know because…do you actually find another guy more attractive than him? didn’t you say he’s the most handsome person you know? keeps to himself till you run up to him and show him your phone, only for him to see a picture he’d sent you when he’d been working out at the gym. makes sure to take some more photos for you.

soonyoung

laughs. oh, yeah? really? but then it turns out you’re not joking, because you’re blushing over someone he doesn’t even know? and you’re not telling him about it? chases you around the house to sneak a peek at your phone and collapses into a blushing mess when he realizes it’s him you’re talking about. gives you bear hugs and forces you to cuddle with him for a while to make up for the stress you caused him.

wonwoo

raises an eyebrow when he hears you talking about this really handsome guy you saw in the queue at the cafe today. gets curious the more you talk about him; how didn’t he notice this guy when you did? traps you in place against the wall to see who you’re talking about and can’t help but smirk when he sees it’s himself. gives you a smug kiss and tells you he wants to hear more about what you think of this guy.

jihoon

hears you, nods, focuses his attention back to the song he’s working on and wonders if it could use some more bass. it’s only when he’s about to finalize the song does he realize you were talking about…someone else? spins around to see you lounging on the couch and asks who you were talking about because he wants to jog his memory. feels slightly satisfied when he sees a picture of himself. so he did hear you right. he didn’t.

seokmin

he’s more curious about who you consider to be hot apart from him, more than the fact that this other guy could be a threat to him. indulges in you talking about this guy and theorizes about who it could be till you finally just show him who you were talking about because he apparently couldn’t get a hint. oh. it’s him. he blinks. almost squeals. peppers your face with kisses because his mind is all blank except for you.

mingyu

pouts. becomes a grumpy baby. even if you’ve seen someone more handsome than him (which is impossible, by the way), do you have to rub it in his face? feels more antsy the longer you talk to him about this guy. pulls the puppy face till you show him who you’re looking at. seeing his face on your screen is the last thing he expected, somehow. feels relieved for a few seconds before he makes you promise never to scare him again like that. takes payment in the form of cuddles.

minghao

another one who knows this is one of your ideas to get him to react some way. nods along and even says oh, really? when you tell him about how handsome this guy is, and how you feel kind of shy when you just think about him. doesn’t even need to look at your phone to know there’s no one else you’re talking about, so he tilts your chin to make you face him and presses a kiss to your lips, asking you if that’d help make you less shy.

seungkwan

you’re seriously talking about another guy? right now? stares at you in disbelief, at the fact that you’d do this after he spent his morning making you breakfast and cuddling with you because you seemed a bit exhausted. he’s sure he’s stared enough to burn a hole through your head. you roll over with a laugh and show him who you were looking at. it’s his own self bent over the stove, trying to figure out how to switch it on. pouts and doesn’t face you till you lure him with kisses.

vernon

overhears you talking on the phone with your friend about this handsome guy you saw while you were out on a walk today evening. you don’t stop talking about how he looked at you, how nice his smile was, and how good he looked against the setting sun. his brain runs in loops trying to figure out which guy looked at you like that while your hand was in his. opens his phone to see some pictures you’d taken of him, with the sun setting in the back. smiles and presses a kiss to your head when you’re done with your call.

chan

instantly competitive. him being drunk doesn’t change the fact that he’s the most handsome man in the world. struggles to pull himself out of your embrace to see who you’re talking about so he can give both of you a piece of his mind, only to find a picture of himself smiling goofily at the camera. that’s me, he says, mind a bit slow. where’s the guy you were talking about? turns out he’s the one you’re talking about. snuggles back into you like nothing was ever wrong.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[ghost-proofbaby]

SIMPLE. (astarion ancunin x afab!reader)

based upon this request by @leahthesith: you've grown tired of astarion's games of jealousy, and it all comes crashing down one night when he chooses to spoil your fun with shadowheart.

warnings: mentions and allusions to astarion's past, as well as his sexual trauma. biting. lots, and lots, and lots of biting. oral sex ('f' receiving), smut. reader is not explicitly gendered/no pronouns are used. only a brief comparison of a 'schoolgirl crush'. reader has also had almost romantic interactions with several companions. 18+ - minors dni.

wc: 7.4k+

kinktober masterlist

There’s no reason for him to be looking at you like that. 

No explanation, no justification, no reason for those jewel eyes to be glowering at you from across the tavern. For his fist to wrap around the mug of whatever he’s sipping on for show, pale skin going translucent in the dancing candlelight. For his entire chest having gone still the last several minutes, and for you to be unable to decipher if he’s simply too distracted to bother with the last of what remains of his living instincts or if it’s another instinct all on its own – if he’s holding his breath as he watches your conversation with Shadowheart.

Then again, there’s no real reason for you to be watching him back. 

The matter of the fact is that you’re watching him just as closely, just as captivated by his presence from across the room, just to simply notice these things. The stillness in his shoulders and the glint that you swear must be his fangs poking past his lips should not be in your periphery. Your focus, all your attention, should be on the vibrant girl on the stool beside you. The dark beauty who’s speaking more with her hands than her lips, giggling over yet another glass of wine. 

“You know,” she sighs wistfully, and you have to tear your gaze away from where it had wandered towards the vampire currently sulking away from the group, “The wine here in the city is much better than on the road.” 

You hum as you distractedly take a sip from your own glass, tongue immediately peeking out to trace along your bottom lip subconsciously, as if you might be trying to savor the flavor. As if you can even taste the flavor. Your tongue has gone all but numb to the ruby liquid as a very different shade of red has captured your interest. 

This could be the same wine from the druid party at the beginning of your journey, the party in which you snatched a bottle from the very shadow that is watching your every move, and you wouldn’t know the difference. 

“It is,” you lie, swirling the red liquid a little bit, an attempt to bring back the taste all over your tongue. 

And even if she buys your lie, Shadowheart can tell something is off, leaning in just a bit closer, peering at you just a little more concerningly, “Is everything okay? You don’t seem yourself.” 

You don’t feel yourself. You should be feeling much more jubilant. You should be joining in on the same fun everyone else is having, toasting to yet another battle won. The end of it all was so close you could taste it. 

And yet, you don’t. Because he’s in the corner brooding, and with him he’s seemingly taken both your mind and your mood. 

“It’s been a long day,” It’s been one long day after another for months, it seems, “I suppose the wine is just making me relax a bit too much.” 

That it is. The alcohol has managed to wiggle its way into your bloodstream, heading straight up your spine and to your brain. All your thoughts feather at the edge, and perhaps that was why you were watching Astarion back so intensely. 

Months of this journey, and you still felt no closer to figuring him out than you had that very first night of discovering his vampirism. Each layer of him that you had peeled back only revealed more confusion to sit with. Some days, you swore you had him entirely figured out. You knew every in and every out of all his wits, and you knew all the steps to the dance in which he’d attempt to draw you into. You could play into whatever design he was spinning between the two of you; you could beat him at his own game. 

But other days, days like today, you simply couldn’t. 

All his flirtations, all his subtle seductions – you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was still for show. For every innuendo he’d whispered into your ear, he shared just as scandalous a comment with another party member. For every seemingly accidental graze of his cold skin against yours, he was attaching himself at the hip of another one of your companions. For all he gave, he would take just as much. Leaving you spinning in the hope of it all; leaving you with a yearning hunger that probably neared the threshold of his own vampiric hunger. 

You want him. You hate him. He infatuates you. He irritates you. He is both sides of the same coin that has damned you every step along the way of this peculiar journey you’ve embarked on together.

“I know what you mean,” Shadowheart brings you back to reality with one swoop of her hair, a careful gathering of the locks to leave a shoulder exposed, “What is it that they always say? Wine is the secret ingredient for every bad decision?”

Your eyes trace carefully over her skin, the slope of where her neck meets her collarbone, the residual bruising leftover from the latest fight blooming beautifully over her. A welcome distraction.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard them say that,” you muse, a smile tugging on your lips, eyes still traveling. Up, up, up. 

Over the line of her jaw, across the curve of her chin. Pillowy bottom lip and softly rounded nose. Softness – she’s made up of all soft and delicate features, such a contrast to someone such as Ast-

You must stop thinking about Astarion.

You’re no longer asking yourself of it, you’re demanding yourself of it. You make a point to move your body and head carefully, positioning yourself just so that the outline of the confusing vampire on your mind is entirely blocked out by Shadowheart’s silhouette. 

“Oh, trust me – they say it all the time,” something simmers beneath Shadowheart’s returning grin, a sparkle in her eyes that should spark some sort of excitement in you. But it’s a hollow ache; you’re still painfully aware that he’s in the room, “Say, would you like to maybe… I don’t know, get out of here? I’m sure we could sneak some more of this exquisite wine to the room upstairs, perhaps find somewhere to relax together even more-” 

“Oh, my dear Shadowheart, don’t you know that that would be thievery?” 

His voice, so close and sudden, sucks all of the air out of your lungs. 

“Astarion!” Shadowheart jumps a bit at his sudden appearance, but you hardly move a muscle. As though your body had been expecting him, as if you had always known the night was leading to this outcome, “I’m surprised to see you’ve given up your gloomy act to join us all. I thought you might sulk in the corner all night.”

His eyes lock on you, and the facade of his usual self seemingly melts. There’s something darker beneath the surface, an animal caged away, and you can see it as it bares its teeth, “Not sulking. Merely observing.” 

You can’t speak. Your entire chest is still tight, lungs still deflated, by his proximity. 

“Well, hard to tell the difference when you hide away in the darkness,” Shadowheart manages to get out before her lips press tightly together, clearly irritated at your companion. 

She’d nearly had you. She had been giving you clear signals, doing away with any games of cats and mice, and she had nearly had you. 

“It’s in my nature, I suppose,” his tone falls flatter than normal, the words void of all the airiness and usual cadence he accentuates. 

He still has you far more enraptured than she’d ever stood a chance of accomplishing. 

“We were just heading upstairs,” you blurt out, and Astarion’s eyebrows raise at your proclamation.

“Is that so?” 

You don’t quite understand why, but you feel the need to over explain yourself, painfully aware of Shadowheart’s inquisitive gaze as she watches you fumble with your words, “Yes! I- I was just telling Shadowheart how tired I’ve grown. We were just calling it a night-” 

“By stealing a bottle of wine?” his tone is growing sharper, and you squirm beneath what has almost become a glare. In an instant, he’s noticing all that discomfort, and you watch the facade be built back up in real time. Brick by brick, he once again resumes his usual role, voice raising a few octaves and a dangerous smirk returning, “And stealing our dearest cleric away from such a wonderful night of celebration? Nonsense! Allow me to accompany you instead, my sweet.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue as naturally as it always does. Sugary syllables, predatory purring. It almost reels you in until you remember the give and the take. The push and the pull. 

Two sides, same coin. And you’ve yet to figure out the value of that coin. 

“There’s no need for that-” Shadowheart begins to protest, but Astarion quickly cuts her off with a flourish of his hand. 

“Please, I insist,” even with his words lightened, sweetened up the slightest bit, that animal still lingers below the tone. Shadowheart will not be accompanying you up to the room. That much you know. “You were clearly having such a good time. It’s truly no problem, I don’t mind watching after our fearless leader.” 

“I don’t need to be babysat,” you snap, reactive like a dog threatened. 

Like a dog cornered.

Yes, that was what you were. A rapid animal, backed up into a space, given no choice. Your heart was racing at the idea of being alone with Astarion. It was no longer a game of mental chess played across a busy tavern – it would be just you, just him, and all those terrible layers you had yet to decipher. It was a recipe for disaster. It was the perfect storm brewing, set for the destruction of you.

“I won’t be babysitting you, dear,” he smiles, and it looks more like a hungered sneer than a sign of genuinity, “Simply there, at your service, for whatever you may need.

I need you to leave me alone. I need our journey to be over so I can stop being your puppet to string along.

You wonder if the thought may have traveled over the tadpole bond and that was why his face falls, rather than your stubborn silence. 

For a moment, you think Shadowheart is going to speak up. That possibly, she might just fight back against him, save you from the impending doom. But when her mouth opens, you hear the last possible thing you could have ached to have fallen from her lips. 

“I… suppose I’ll be on my way then. Have a good night.”

Defeat. 

It wraps around your name as she whispers it before she stands from her stool, unassuming to all your silent signals begging her to stay. Footsteps echoing over the commotion around you as she turns her back, and you feel the walls of this corner drawing in on you. 

“I-” you start when you finally look back to Astarion, but he’s already reaching out to grab you. 

“She’ll get over it,” he says harshly, pulling you along as if you were nothing. As though you weren’t digging your heels into the creaking floorboards below, as if you weren’t resisting him with every fiber of your being. 

“Astarion- stop, I’m- I’m not worried about her,” you stutter out, cursing the way your voice falters, tugging against his grip on you, “Gods, why do you do that?” 

The question has him halting at the foot of the stairs. The shadows encase the two of you as his eyes glow in the subtle darkness. 

“Do what?” 

“This.”

You wave your free hand in the space between the two of you wildly, as though that might suffice for explanation. But when Astarion only levels you with a blank stare, you know it won’t. You know it doesn’t. 

“You pull me along, you push me away,” you continue, heart still racing wildly, breaths coming out short and fast, “You treat me like something special and then discard me, and the moment I seek out that genuine treatment from someone else, you’re back to collect me as your own personal play toy. I want to know why.”

For all the exasperation you feel, there’s a pride beneath it all. The pride of being able to articulate, the smugness of assuming you’ve left him speechless. You haven’t.

Today is not one of the days in which you can beat him at his own game. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he claims, chin lifting just an inch, eyes flitting towards the ceiling before making their way to the bar scene behind you. Anywhere but you. “I’ve done no such thing-”

“Bullshit,” you spit out, “Bull-fucking-shit. You’ve done it numerous times, Astarion. Do you not recall the night in which Gale had approached me, offering to teach me about the Weave, and how you’d interrupted-”

“Our dearest wizard would have bored you to death. It was a mercy to interject.”

“-or the night of the tiefling party, when Karlach had been on the verge of confessing something that seemed an awful lot like an admittance of liking me-”

“Karlach likes everyone. Have you seen the eyes she makes at Wyll?”

“-And how about the time when Lae’zel openly invited me to share a bed with her, and you’d overheard, and obnoxiously guffawed? Hm? What’s your excuse there?” 

Finally, his grip has slackened on your wrist, allowing you to pull both arms tightly across your chest as you glare at him. Chest still heaving, mind still reeling. 

He clearly doesn’t have a very good answer as his lips twitch briefly into a pathetic smile, fading quickly as he shrugs, “Well, I simply found the entire image conjured amusing.”

Your heart nearly stops, leaving your chest as empty a cavern as Astarion’s, “You find the image of someone wanting me, wanting to lay with me, amusing?”

And for all he plays dumb, Astarion is not a fool. 

He catches the fall in your demeanor, the way your arms slowly drop and your entire face contorts with your frown. Damage has been done. 

“No, wait, I-” he tries to begin damage control, but the damage has been done.

“Save it,” you cut him off, “I’m going upstairs now. You can continue on your moping down here in the shadows – I don’t need a babysitter.” 

He almost looks as defeated as Shadowheart had when he’d intervened for a second, a second just long enough that you begin taking the long strides up the stairs. You think you’ve gotten the last word, for that eternity of a second. Making it all the way to the first platform, turning to take on the second set of stairs. 

When suddenly, your back is flat against the wall behind you, a cold body pressed against the entirety of yours. 

“I do not find it amusing,” Astarion huffs, those beady eyes suddenly staring right into yours, lips dangerously close to your own. The defeat has been long forgotten, “The image of you with the others – entranced by Gale’s magic, giggling by the fire with Karlach, on your knees for Lae’zel – is not amusing,” his hands are tight on your hips, bruising grip keeping you pinned with no escape. His body rolls, every inch of his clothed skin beginning to press against your own, “You, laying with anyone else, is the farthest thing from amusing, darling.”

His head tilts in warning, forehead nearly pressed to yours, the end of his nose bumping against yours. You can feel every unnecessary breath he takes. Every huff of his sudden irritation invades your space, and all you can do is attempt to turn your head. 

One of his hands is quick to reach up, pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer. You want to look away, but he won’t allow it. 

“Would you like to know the truth?” 

A loaded question. A ticking time bomb when it comes to this game between the two of you. 

You decide to set the fuse aflame when you nod your stiff head against his pinching grip. 

“The truth is,” he takes a deep breath, one you know he doesn’t need. He’s sucking all the air out of the room, air he has no need for, before his heavy eyes pour into yours. You’re blinded, all visions of red and smoky warning signs, the chatter of the tavern faded to nothing, “the image of you laying with anyone else absolutely infuriates me.”

Anyone else. 

Anyone else. 

Anyone else.

You open your mouth to respond, not even sure what you could possibly say to that, but it’s Astarion’s lips on yours that kills all words on your tongue. 

There are no witnesses. Not a single soul below can see as he all but devours you, hungry lips melding to yours in desperation. The shadows he had been taunted for haunting for the night now serve as a veil, allowing you to cling to what’s left of your dignity. If anything, it feels as though he might be controlling the shadows, beckoning them to come and wrap the two of you up as his arm sneaks behind your back, pulling your body tightly to his as he chooses to steal the breath directly from your lungs now. 

The push, the pull – the coin. The value, it seems, is finally coming to light. 

Through the kiss, you can feel the damnation of all the emotions Astarion must have been holding back for the journey. All the want, all the yearning, all the anger, all the confusion – every single emotion you’ve been battling, breaking the surface as his fangs nip at your bottom lip. 

It takes more willpower than you’d expected to shove him away. 

“Astarion-” you gasp out, taking gulps of air into your burning lungs. 

“Tell me to walk away,” he begs, body still aligned with yours, hands still clinging to you, “Tell me to leave you alone, and this time, I’ll obey.” 

Your tongue can’t move. The depths of his whispers, his pleads, are ringing in your bones, and you can’t say the words he asks of you. 

“Say it,” he presses on, his fingers only digging deeper into your hips. You can’t tell if they’ve gone numb from the chill of his fingers, or from the lack of circulation due to his strength, “Just say it, and I’ll do it. Say anything. I’m yours to command.”

You should tell him to walk away. You should call off the game of cat and mouse. You should save what’s left of your soul for someone else, anyone else, who won’t send your head spinning with a plethora of mixed signals. 

“Room. Now.” 

Of course, you don’t. 

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion. 

And you continue to earn it as your hands tangle up in the snowy curls at the nape of his neck, silvery strands slipping between aching knuckles, lips attaching themselves to his porcelain skin as he guides you up that final flight of stairs. You’re not thinking of Shadowheart, not thinking of anything delicate or soft. Harsh clashes of teeth, harsh bites to rebuttal his fangs against you, harsh fingers digging into soft meat, harsh red lines left behind across his skin that fade away too quickly for your liking. 

Harsh, harsh, harsh. 

All your tensions and frustrations are put into the meshing, and you hardly notice once Astarion’s gotten the two of you through the threshold of the shared room. Everyone else is still downstairs, still celebrating, still cheersing and chatting away. Completely unaware of your demise. Oblivious to what’s about to happen.

Anyone else.

It’s been a long time coming. 

You can see flashes of it in your mind as he carries you with him, door locked behind his back before he’s finding one of the vacated beds to lay you down onto. The night you’d discovered his vampiric nature, the night you had been his mirror with his scars, all the times in which he’d blatantly saved your ass during fights. The blurry figure that is your savior, conveniently getting between you and goblins or shadows alike as he buries his daggers to the hilt. Always there, always watching.

Always yearning. 

Your heads sing in tune as that tadpole connection comes to life, like an exposed nerve as you feel it all reciprocated from him tenfold. Flashes of yourself, with soft eyes and gentle words. Patient palms and charming smiles. A pulling gravity so grandiose that it sparks sheer fear. 

The room is quiet save for your gasps every time Astarion’s lips leave yours long enough to allow for breathing, the ruffling of clothing and bed sheets filling the air soon enough. Just quiet enough you can hone in on that fear, dig your claws into it instead of his back, focused entirely on following it all the way down. 

More memories of his overriding yours. His exposure of Cazador, his admittance of his past. All the trust he put into you – all the faith he’d blindly handed over to you on a silver platter, only reminiscing and regretting once he was left to his own devices at the end of the day.

And then came the jealousy. 

You’d already felt enough of it through his kisses and movements – the way he pins your body beneath his, the way his fangs graze your exposed neck – but it nearly drowns you once the connection has opened the floodgates. 

The image of you and Gale, and a twist in your gut like no other. Incomparable to even vampiric hunger. 

The image of you and Lae’zel, and a burn in the back of your throat that drives you beyond reason. 

The glimpse of you and Karlach, and the urgency rising in your chest to simply stop it. To pull the brakes, not once considering the consequences. 

Every small moment between you and someone else – companions, strangers, those who have helped along the way – is given to you from Astarion’s point of view. You feel all that he has felt; you burn as he has burned. 

You feel a glimmer of understanding, a pitiful ounce of sympathy, but then you remember all that you have felt. All that confusion, all that unsureness. Every time you’ve had to question the glances the vampire offers in your direction or double back on his words. 

He’d done it to himself. You had to remember that – he’d done it to himself every single step of the way.

“You could have said something,” you whisper out as his lips travel down the path of your neck, sharp tips of his fangs pressing to your pulse but not quite breaking skin, “You could have just told me.”

He’s lithe as a cat above you, each scrap of clothing being removed between the two of you exposing more of your bare flesh to the chill of his. You can feel all those muscles beneath his surface, and you can feel the hesitation as you say this. The freeze – the pause. 

“You make it sound so simple.”

The fangs scrape at your jugular as he whispers it, mouth shaking as he uses all his self-constraint to not simply bite down. Taste your sweet blood, let it sing on his tongue rather than this conversation you can tell is setting fire to all his anxieties. He doesn’t want to talk.

You’re not even sure if you want to talk. 

But you do, with the weight of him between your hips and his hands dancing along your torso. Your head is thrown back as you sigh, “It could be.”

It could be simple, it could have been simple this entire time, if only he’d allow it. 

He’s had you dancing beneath his spell since the moment you’d met him. You had offered yourself over to him, time and time again, knowing all the costs. Despite the warnings from others, and despite all the sirens sounding off in your head every time your eyes had met his, you’d still pined. Still fantasized what this current moment might taste like as you’d lay in your tent at night, still chased after his attention across Faerun. If he had just directly said the word rather than stringing you along, burning in private – you would have been his far sooner than now. He could have had you in the palm of his hands long before he’d ever spotted the Gate of the city. 

He has you now, though. Entirely encapsulated, bending to every whim of his fingertips.  

A flick of his wrist, and you’re exposing more of your neck. A nudge of his knee, and you’re arching your back to press more of yourself against him. Offering your skin, offering your soul, offering your blood. A silent temptation for him to simply devour you whole; a silent begging to not complicate things more than what was necessary. 

You had both been in the wrong. He had sent mixed signals, and you had been complicit in your own silence. 

And right now, you weren’t particularly in the mood to rehash and reassign blame. 

“Show me how simple it could be,” his voice is muffled against your skin, lips velvet against your pulse. It nearly frustrates you – was that not what you were currently doing? Were you not proving to him just how easily he could unravel you with those cold, cold palms? “Go ahead, darling. Prove me wrong.”

You’re not the one meant to take an action, though. Your hands fly up, fisting at his white curls, and you apply pressure to let him sink deeper into your skin, but you’re not the one who can break the barrier.

It’s him that must – his fangs must do it. The first bite, the smallest of sips. 

Your blood trickles past his lips and you let out a sigh. As if this was what you were waiting for, as if this was all that it took. Your vitality draining slowly to invigorate him, your breath becoming his, your heart now beating for both of you. 

He must feel it. He must taste it. 

The simple entanglement of the living and unliving. How simple it was to become his.

You swear you only allow your heart to race as it does to encourage your blood to pump faster onto his eager tongue. He laps at it, hums at the taste, his grip on you becoming stronger with each pass of the ichor. Each passing second with his mouth glued to the side of your neck isn’t marked with the tick of a clock, but the roll of his hips, and your own desperate legs shaking in those precious moments between, cursed to choose between tightening shut around his hips or spreading wider to encourage more of him to occupy you. 

Just as you start to feel light-headed, he pulls back. Wide and vibrant scarlet eyes boring into yours, fangs tinged pink with you poking against his bottom lip. 

The tadpole connection has gone silent. Not due to either of you cutting it off entirely, but due to the lack of thoughts transpiring. Both your minds have gone quiet, and all that’s left is the warm buzz of knowing you’re connected. Static that you can feel at the back of your head, running down your spine, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

Simple. Mind-numbingly simple. 

You can feel the spark of something snapping after only a few moments of eye-contact, and you know it’s the ember that blazes within him as his next few actions transpire. Messy kisses leaving behind a trail of pink spit along your skin, hands no longer grappling at you mindlessly but with intention. He slips them between your thighs, a finger trailing down your cunt in time with his tongue down your sternum. What might be a memorized dance to him has become an entirely unknown experience to you, body buzzing with the novelty when his fingertip’s cool caress circles your clit before he slips down to your hole. It’s seamless – the stretch, the crook of his knuckle against you as he sinks deeper, the relief in the curl of your toes. 

“You’re not another mindless dance,” he murmurs as he sinks deeper and lower, an unnecessary breath escaping him across your lower abdomen. 

He’d heard it. He’d heard all of your thoughts at the moment. 

You peer down at the ethereal sight of him between your thighs, his hair and mouth seemingly shimmering with all the stars and moon itself, “No?” 

“No,” his voice is strong as he lets the tip of his nose press against you, mouth creeping closer to where two fingers now pump within you, “You’re not like the others.” 

He doesn’t elaborate, even as the haunting question of who the others might be echoes within you. He completely distracts you as his fingers slip from your cunt and his tongue begins its work, worshiping you with every flick of it. Nose, tongue, breath – they all work in conglomeration as the unraveling truly begins. Every ounce of you is tensing, combating all the relief of having his mouth on you, as he pushes you closer and closer to a precipice you’ve only dreamed of him guiding you to. 

The suckle of his lips. The cut of his fangs when he gets a bit too excited. The lap of a tongue like a dog worshiping at your altar. It’s all almost a bit much. 

When your hands travel to entangle in his hair, you can feel the hesitation. For a moment, you believe he might reach up to take your touch away. Force you to grasp at the bed sheets, at the edge of the mattress, at the frame above your head. Anywhere but him. 

But he doesn’t.

The pause only lasts a few seconds before he’s returning to his mitigations, even more intent than before. Words that could never be spoken between the two of you take the shape of his lips around your clit, sucking almost as hard as he had at your neck. An animal seemingly overtakes him, his mouth not leaving you for the mortal necessity of breathing, but rather for something harsher; he breaks away only for his fingers to slide back within you, and immediately takes to biting at your thighs. 

It isn’t like he had done to your neck. This time, he’s not chasing after your blood. Nips and fuller bites, not just his sharpened canines sinking into fletch but his front teeth as well. 

These aren’t bites to drink from you. These are bites to claim you.  

He lines your legs with them, scattered sporadically as he shifts himself up and down. From the apex of your thigh down to your ankle, there’s hardly an inch of your skin that doesn’t paint with Astarion’s touch. The bite marks, lingering outlines of his hands clinging to your flesh, patient hickies left throughout. 

You’re mine. 

The message is clear enough whether you had seen it in his actions, or if he had sent it through the bond. You understand well what point he is making. 

The point stands stronger and stronger when he works his way back up your body. He offers your hips the same worshiping treatment, leaves his imprints across your chest as well. A few marks brand your shoulders and neck, matching the two pricks that started this entire devourment. 

“Do you have any idea of the hold you have upon me?” he sighs out as he holds himself above your body, hovering just close enough that your skin jumps as the skin of his abdomen brushes your own, “Our entire journey, I have been so focused on… on freedom, on abandoning the concept of ever being controlled…” he trails off, and when he looks into your eyes this time, you can see something clicking into place. A fearsome realization. “Only to end up in the thralls of your beck and call.” 

You hold your breath and await the inevitable. This is the part where he runs. Where he removes his flesh from yours, where he jumps across the room and surely spits out some sarcastic remark. It’s the time in which he is meant to break all the hope that had been built over the minutes spent alone. He’ll make some nonchalant remark, or a crude joke, and he’ll go make eyes at some other poor fool below. He’ll cast his spell over someone else, anyone else. He’ll leave you, wanting and yearning and hopeless, once more. 

His body stays above yours, the thin fabric of space shaking between you two. 

With a trembling hand, warm against his skin, you take a chance, “I’m not your master, Astarion.” 

You aren’t. 

You have no desire to control him the way he describes. You would curse the day should you ever become something even comparable to being a placeholder for Cazador. He isn’t telling you anything new; you’ve known his end goal of this entire journey. Astarion has always wanted one thing and one thing only – freedom. 

And you thought you’d been helping him. Following him blindly through the woes, helping him achieve his ultimate goal wholeheartedly. Never for a single second had you assumed the role he’s seemingly given you. 

A short laugh escapes him, the smallest of smiles flitting his face, “No. No, you aren’t. And that only enthralls me further.” 

His lips descend upon yours in a fervent fashion, even more desperate than before. It feels as if he’s actually trying to devour you whole this time – it feels as though he might actually accomplish melding you into his existence, sinking you right into the marrow of his hollow bones. 

When his cock sinks into your heat, it’s ecstasy. Euphoria. Everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything you’d been hoping for. You stretch around him, just as you had his fingers, body eager to take in every last inch of him. The buzz becomes a roar and your entire body feels as though it might be on fire. You want more, you need more, and he’s more than willing to give it. 

More, more, more. 

His hips roll agonizingly slow against yours, making sure every movement is felt across every nerve ending within your body. Deep within your gut, down along your thighs, all the way up your chest. You feel him everywhere – he makes sure of it. 

Centuries, his voice curls through your mind like dark smoke.  For centuries, this body has felt tainted. Never quite mine, never quite clean. 

His hands are shaking as he lets them caress down your sides, over your hips, clinging for support. 

You take that feeling away. 

The words are heavy, the press of his chest over you heavier. Your own hands wander, and you make a point to avoid the scars on his back. The ones hardly deciphered, the ones that have tied him to a fate you refuse to let him succumb to. No amount of jealousy, no amount of spite, can reverse that ardent decision within your mind. 

You’re not an old coat, Astarion. You whisper it back, along the bond, your physical mouth gaping wide open as you tilt your head back into the pillow, feeling yourself tighten around him. You’re not a worn pair of boots. You’re a person. 

A terrible mon-

You cut off his rebuttal, a complicated person. Snarky, indecisive, too flirtatious for your own good. But still a person, and still worthy. 

Two simple words, and they send shudders through his entire body. Still worthy. You don’t look at him as something to be discarded or owned; you don’t envision him as a prize or a trophy. And you certainly don’t see only his flaws when you look at him. When his ruby eyes meet yours, both his and your own eyelashes flutter ridiculously as all the pressure mounts, the blush of your blood across his cheeks and running down his throat, you both know. You don’t need to put it into words.

Even when he infuriated you. Even when he made you second-guess his companionship in the beginning. Even when he made you swoon like a schoolgirl only to divert his attention. Never once have you fully faulted him for the mistakes. 

He’s done bad things. You’ve all done terrible things. And yet, you still want him. 

He’s worth more than the sum of his worst moments, even if he hadn’t bedded you tonight. You would still help slay Cazador. You would still fight tooth and claw for his freedom. 

You love him. You hate him. You hate to love him, you love to hate him. It’s all smoke and mirrors at the end of the day when you’re feeling the weight of him collapse on top of you. And it’s mutual. The complicated, infuriating emotions are all reciprocated. 

Every inch of your skin stings with the lingerance of his fangs and lips, gasps and mews slipping between your lips as he picks up his pace. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and hips in a failing attempt to pull your body back to his, the reciprocation languid in every stroke. Every slap of his skin against yours, every moan of his own – they mingle in the air and spell out the inevitability of this moment. You swear you feel his sharp nails nick you, a bead of blood no doubt bubbling and staining the sheets below.

You don’t care. He doesn’t, either. 

Your whine echoes through the empty room right along with a harsh grunt from him. He’s ravaging you. Bruising you inside and out. 

“Fuck, Astarion,” you gasp out, giving up using the bond. Your mind has melted far too much for coherent thoughts as both your breaths quicken, both abdomens tightening as you feel him reach even deeper inside your cunt, “Fuck.”

You can feel him letting go just as it feels as though your body might give out. Blissful soreness hidden behind a curtain of pleasure that turns your vision white. You almost wonder if your body had been simply a vessel for his own pleasure this entire time. 

You wouldn’t mind if it had been, but he’s made damn sure it isn’t. 

You’ve never felt quite as cared for as when his hips stutter, feeling warmth fill your fluttering cunt as his open mouth places random kisses anywhere they can reach. His head falls to the crook of your neck and you can feel his tired lips pressing repetitively over your marked neck, your shoulder. They even graze the original bite mark, and the simple action sends shockwaves through you to join the rest of the residual quakes that keep your legs shaking around his waist. 

The bedlinen sticks to your skin from a mixture of blood and sweat as he collapses next to you for a moment, still curling up to you like a cat. Nose running along your bare shoulder, lips still reaching out for you. 

It takes you a second, but when you finally catch your breath, you can’t help but ask the dreaded question, “Does this mean you’re officially mine?” 

His chuckle is unexpected, vibrating against your chest as he rolls most of his weight off you and lifts his head, “Have I not made that much obvious?” 

“I just needed to make sur-”

He cuts off all your hesitation, lifting the entirety of his upper body now, “Allow me to make this very clear to you, darling. I have been yours since the moment you reacted to me holding a dagger to your throat with a damned headbutt.”

You smile sheepishly, “So you’re telling me when I did that… I knocked some sense into you?” 

“Never,” he scoffs, waving a hand, the only sign of his own fatigue to match yours being the way he drops back down at your side. You don’t miss the faint smile gracing his lips, “But it was an impressive move. Quite enchanting for this old heart of mine.” 

“So now you admit that you’re old?” you joke, prodding at an inside joke that had been ongoing since he’d admitted the entirety of his vampiric nature to you. He’d always pouted like a child at any mention of his age, but he’d always allowed only you to get away with any jabs at it. Your entire group still doesn’t speak of his reaction to Gale trying his hand at one of the jokes, “Goodness, what has gotten into you, my Star?” 

He flushes at the nickname, eyes diverting as he slowly creeps his body up the bed, face to face with you now. Your heart tightens a bit when he takes his time replying, swallowing hard, tongue peeking out instinctively as he runs it over his lips and fangs slowly. 

You almost believe he won’t look you in the eyes again, but he does. As he says the heaviest words yet, he looks to you as if you’re the only thing in the room for this moment. 

“I care for you,” his voice comes out tight, nearly strained. “Deeply. You make me want to be… a better… man, monster, whatever I might be. And if that’s a crime?” he pauses, and takes another one of those pesky deep breaths that you’re well aware aren’t vital to him. A glimmer of the human, the person, beneath the self-proclaimed monster. “Well, I haven’t been much of a rule follower thus far in our journey anyways, have I?” 

You pay no mind to his joking tone, seeing the words for what they are. Your hand reaches up, fingers carding through silver waves, and you can’t help your grin when he doesn’t swat you away as he had done Shadowheart for the exact same show of affection the week before. 

I adore you, Astarion. 

Quiet words. Silent words. Only for the two of you, within the confines of a shared mine. 

He clears his throat uncomfortably, “Mind you, I may need some time, given all the memories this wretched city brings-”

“Take all the time you need,” you interrupt. From the second he’d opened up to you, offering that vulnerability in the heat of the moment regarding his body, you’d seen this coming. “I can wait for you, my love. Let’s just focus on surviving all this, yeah?” 

He can’t hide his affection. It’s written plainly on his face, it travels clearly across the bond. 

“Yes,” he whispers back, reaching for your wrist finally, but only to hold it placid as he turns his lips towards it. You think for a moment he might bite you one final time, and you’d let him, but he surprises you. No fangs appear – only the softest of kisses against the most vulnerable of skin. “Survival. Of course.” 

It’s not so much words as it is an image, a promise, that comes to mind from him. The fluttering of a future he sees being possible, the threat of a city burned down should any harm come to you. 

“And no more jealousy,” you croak out, trying to not be overwhelmed by his own emotions mixing with yours. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Another kiss to your wrist, this one far quicker, far more habitual than the first. He’s kissing you simply because he can. 

You know there’s more behind his smile when he whispers, “Oh, of course, lover.” 

And you find out later on the reason for such a mischievous smile, once he’s cleaned you both up and migrated for you two to rest in his claimed bed. When Shadowheart is the first of the group to enter the room, confronted with the image of you curled up on Astarion’s chest as his fingers dance over your aching skin, you don’t even have to wake up properly to see the vision of a smug Astarion through your dreary eyes. 

Words are exchanged, but they’re lost to you in your sleepy state. You only catch the ones that matter. 

“Astarion! Are those bite marks-”

“Mine?” if you were any more conscious, you would have scolded him. He knows it, too, as he squeezes you closer to him, “Why, yes. Yes, they are, our dearest Shadowheart.” 

Shadowheart’s huff of breath tells you all you need to know about Astarion’s smirk. You’ll talk more of jealousy in the morning. 

[mooooonnnzz]

holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.

Word/Insured Part 2

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!

☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it

☆ 4,5k words

☆ gender-neutral reader

☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst

☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops

☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!

☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3

✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same. 

✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.

✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford. 

✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes. 

✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears. 

✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved. 

✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was “his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands. 

✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.

✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!” 

✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.

✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!” 

✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?” 

✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”

✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”

✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford,  buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on. 

✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.” 

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

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[kotoku]

Hello, can I request Aven, Ratio and Sunday with an s/o who's like Komi from “Komi can’t communicate?” Basically, their s/o is socially anxious and finds it incredibly hard to talk but is expressive in emotions and usually communicates through writing on paper.

Also if its not too much, could you write a lil scenario in how they would react when someone says something rude about s/o’s social anxiety?

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ, ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀ ʀᴀᴛɪᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴋᴏᴍɪ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - sunday x komi! reader / aventurine x komi! reader / dr ratio x komi! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ komi! reader/ pre and established relationships/ reader getting shit-talked by people/ socially anxious! reader

warnings - swearing lol

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ Sunday would be a wonderful partner to have, he’s very understanding of your struggles communicating with others and participating in activities with your peers

↻ He’s super encouraging and supportive, giving you a small push when it comes to interacting with people (besides him, his sister was the first person you successfully managed to hold a conversation with lol)

↻ At first glance, Sunday found your appearance attractive, the air around you held that sense of authority and grace, enamoring everyone within your reach

↻ However, when he introduced himself to you, you could only stare at him blankly which made him a little concerned… 

↺ Were you deaf? Mute? He really did try his best at getting a word out of you but you could only stutter in response, quickly leaving him due to your embarrassment

↺ Gradually, he began to understand what you would try to say by your body cues and expressions

↻ Sunday ended up gifting you, soon after your first meeting, your own personal notebook to write in that way you could communicate your thoughts easily 

↺ You were overjoyed, chatting non-stop with him throughout the day

↻ Unbeknownst to the both of you, it seemed you had quite the reputation with the way people would gawk and stare at you like you were some sort of goddess 

↺ Sunday could understand them, you were not only attractive, but smart and kind, offering your help to those who need it despite being afraid of approaching others (it just came to you naturally)

↻ Sunday finds the sounds you make cute, especially when you’re embarrassed or flustered, he can’t help but tease you when he can

↺ He also finds the way you express yourself very endearing, reminding him of a kitten

↻ You love petting his wings and taking care of them, it's one of your favorite things to do to help calm yourself down

↻ If someone pokes fun or insults you for being socially anxious, he’d be ready to rain hell on them (you’re trying your best and that’s all that matters !!)

↺ Those kind of encounters would bring your spirits down, but eventually, you’d gather up the courage to keep trying thanks to the support of Sunday and the few friends you made

-----

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to speak up for yourself. Just say something.” 

You had thought you were beginning to make a new friend, but noticing the way they treated you… You knew you didn’t want to be around them any longer. 

You nervously fidgeted in your seat, staring down at the half eaten sundae in front of you. The sudden announcement had spoiled your mood and appetite, feeling too uncomfortable to even eat near someone like them. You just wanted to escape the situation now before it becomes too tense.

Your ‘friend’ was about to continue what they were saying, but was interrupted by a stern voice.

“It’s harder for some people to voice their thoughts, it doesn’t always come naturally to them.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, it was Sunday. Turning to face him with a relieved expression, he understood your silent appreciation for his interjection.

“People work at their own pace, don’t try to rush them into doing something they aren’t comfortable with.” Sunday’s eyes narrowed at them, your ‘friend’ at a loss for words. “Come now, _____, a new place has opened up and I’d like to take you there.” 

Sunday had offered you his hand to help pull you up which you gratefully accepted, leaving the half eaten sundae with your friend. It was now something they would have to deal with, whether they liked it or not. 

-----

↻ Speaking of friends, if you had a goal to reach a certain number of friends, he’d happily help you and introduce you to some of his closest friends

↺ The astral express would be super welcoming and friendly to you; I can imagine you spending time with them on the express while silently chatting with Pom Pom (the crew wonders how they can understand you, but are happy you are enjoying yourself)

↻ Sunday would love spending time with you, bringing you to different events or to an amusement park that way you could experience the thrill of the rides

↺ He knows that if you’re lost, you start to panic, so he tries his best to never lose sight of you in crowded situations

↺ If you do end up losing him, he’ll have a family member escort you to where he; if he’s busy, he’ll have a family member accompany you whenever you go out if you aren’t comfortable doing so alone

↻ All in all, Sunday is your biggest supporter and wants you to be comfortable !

↻  Aventurine thinks you’re very interesting and fun to tease

↻  Although you normally intimidated people by accident at first glance, he wasn’t thrown off by your blank stare or silence

↻  At first he was just messing around with you, he never would’ve thought that he would be in a relationship with you but he’s quite happy nonetheless

↻  If you know the dynamic between Komi’s parents, I feel like that would apply to both you and Aventurine

↺ He’s the talker of the both of you (of course) and is much more energetic compared to you who silently gazes at people and can only manage a couple sentences

“They asked for no pickles.”

“Thank you..Aven.

↺ Aventurine definitely speaks up for you in tense situations (like when your order is wrong but you don’t want to say anything)

↻ Aventurine doesn’t mind your shyness and is willing to help you develop social skills

↺ He introduces you to Topaz and Ratio, who both get along with you just fine

(you were intimidated by Ratio, but you slowly warmed up to him and enjoy his lectures)

↻ He finds your quirks cute, purposely teasing you so he could get a reaction

↺ Aventurine is pretty observant, so he was able to pick up on the small habits you have fairly quickly

↻ I feel like you wouldn’t need to communicate your thoughts with him as much because he knows how to read you like a book, but he’d end up giving you a small notepad anyways

↻ Aventurine would definitely shower you with gifts and bring you to his favorite spots, hoping to slowly inch you out of your shell (it works a bit)

↻ Like Sunday, Aventurine would notice your popularity (you’re completely unaware) and keep a keen eye on your surroundings, especially if you visit the casino he frequents

↺ He keeps you close to him so people don’t try anything funny with you

↻ If someone were to insult or poke fun at your social anxiety, he’d be really irked and would show it passive aggressively, making sure to not confront them in front of you because he knows you would heavily discourage him

-----

“Ugh, they’re so silent it’s creepy… Why don’t they say anything?” 

Aventurine’s ears perked up, listening in on a conversation two workers were having as you walked beside him down the hallway.

“I know. What does Aventurine even see in them?” 

They continued their conversation through hushed whispers and secretive glances. Yet Aventurine was able to hear every last comment and insult thrown at you. It made his frown deepen and brows furrow, but he knows if he did anything now you’d stop him. He’ll have to deal with the two of them later. 

-----

The next day, Aventurine was back at the casino with you by his side. As expected, he had a bountiful amount of chips on his side, proof of his winning streak. 

A new game was about to begin, and as he peered up through his rose-tinted glasses to gauge the participating opponents, he saw two familiar faces. The workers from yesterday, how fortunate for him. 

Throughout the game, a new, tense air had surrounded Aventurine, something you picked up on. He was much more competitive than before, losing his aloof demeanor and focusing on the game at hand. Was there something wrong?

Before you knew it, the game was over. Aventurine had come out victorious, watching his opponents’ faces drop at the huge sum of money they lost with a sly smirk. 

He was satisfied, for now.

-----

↻ If you end up getting lost somewhere, Aventurine would be your first contact and he’d drop everything to help you (The next people for you to contact would be Topaz and Ratio)

↻ Sometimes I think Aventurine would overwhelm you with his antics, especially with his “all or nothing” mindset (your poor heart)

↺ Aventurine would eventually cave in due to your huffs and frowns because he finds you too cute

↻ He’s happy to have you and will always be by your side when you need him (you’re his first priority)

↻ Goodness, poor you would be pretty intimidated by him and his strict nature at first meeting

↺ Ratio would have to be the one to approach you first since you’re too scared to even utter a word to him

↻ I don’t think Ratio would fully understand your anxieties, as he personally never dealt with it

↺ However, he would slowly start to understand and even try asking you questions in which you can provide him a simple answer (usually yes or no questions)

↻ He begrudgingly helps you socialize with people, even though he hates to interact with idiots himself

↺ I can imagine him giving you lecture about human behavior and social relationships, which you listen to attentively but also blankly stare at him (he shakes his head at this but continues anyways)

↺ His lectures actually end up helping you understand people though, and his lessons about social skills has helped you with introducing yourself to new people 

↺ He forces Aventurine to help him with your social skills since he’s pretty upbeat and friendly 

↻ If you’ve made some improvements with social interactions, Ratio would feel pretty satisfied and happy that he helped you (he’d never tell you directly but he’d give you rewards)

↻ Being Ratio’s significant other would be interesting

↻ By this point, he probably has all your little quirks and habits memorized, knowing what may be troubling you or what caught your interest

↺ He finds your habits and actions quite endearing, it brings a soft smile to his usually stoic face

↻ Ratio likes expressing his affection for you with gifts he finds useful and interesting, recounting the history behind the item or how it was manufactured (you enjoy listening to his rambles and he’s happy that he can tell you these findings)

↻ If someone were to make a snide comment about your social anxiety, he would have zero hesitation is giving them a lecture or throwing a chalk their way

↺ He’d probably make them cry or shit themselves

-----

“THE Veritas Ratio is dating someone? Who??”

“Just some freak. Seriously, I heard they never speak and all they do is just stare at you.”

“Wow… That’s pretty creepy.”

“Exac–” 

“Excuse me.”

The two girls who were just gossiping about you jumped, smiling nervously at the source of the intrusion.

“Ah, Doctor Ratio! Fancy seeing you here…” 

“I work here.” Ratio deadpanned, eyes glaring down at the two. “I couldn’t help but notice that the topic of your conversation pertained to me and my partner. I suggest that you keep your noses out of our business and quit these idiotic assumptions.” 

“I- We were just–” 

“Stop your incessant ramblings. If I hear another word about anything regarding my personal life, I will be sure to have you both taken care of. Understood?” His authoritative tone made the two girls quiver in their spot, nodding their heads frantically. 

Ratio turned to leave, making his way back to you who was sitting on a nearby bench staring at the ground. At the sound of his footsteps, you looked back up at him, getting up from your seat.

“Are you..ready to go, Veri?”

“Yes, let’s go, My Love.”

-----

↻ Ratio is pretty protective of you, especially since he’s aware of the attention you garner (your hands are also interlocked so you don’t get swept away from him)

↺ If you get lost, you both would identify a landmark to meet by so you don’t bump into as many people

↻ To make communication easier for the both of you, he bought you a notebook to write down your thoughts in so you could show it to him whenever you wanted (he’ll make sure that it’s always on hand for your peace of mind)

↻ Ratio is a proud significant other, he admires your motivation to learn and improve on your social skills

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - i love komi can't communicate, it's such a cute anime series and i can't wait to watch season 3 if it comes out. :)

[lizdive]

hello! platonic aventurine, jing yuan, blade, sunday, boothill, dan heng and dr ratio with a teen!reader who is like lynette from genshin?

please do include lynette’s backstory as well :3

love my girlie lynette i remember when i first got her i maxed her out as quick as possible she’s so pretty <33 idk why tumblr wasn’t cooperating with me while i was trying to format this istg,,,, tysm for requesting !! sorry this took some time,, if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" used to refer to reader ,, reader is a teenager ,, reader is based off of "lynette" from the game genshin impact ,, platonic relationships ,, mentions of being sold, close to being 'used', creepy old men, and other things relating to lynette’s past ,, yanqing is referenced in jing yuan’s part ,, mention of silver wolf in blade’s part ,, mention of march in dan heng’s part ,, mention of screwllum in dr ratio’s part ,, this is not proofread pls ignore typos especially bcs this is so long i cannot proofread this all rn

⭑ AVENTURINE has worked with many people and therefore has seen it all when it comes to appearances and personalities, but you by far are the most interesting person he’s met.

⭑ He’s tried to interact with you before, and every time you give him a bizarre and odd response he only tries harder. Mostly because he wants to properly hold a conversation with you, but also because he wants to see how odd your replies can get.

⭑ He doesn’t blame you for not trusting him so easily. Many who have joined the IPC have done it out of force and therefore trust nobody. He actually feels a bit proud that you are not naive and stay guarded around the other workers so they don’t take advantage of you. Still, he’ll try his best to befriend you so you aren’t alone.

⭑ Finds your swordsmanship very impressive. Your agility and strength brings you praise from him and sometimes he’ll watch you train. You don’t say anything to him as usual. Whenever you spot him you just stare at him with that poker face of yours and continue as if he isn’t even there.

⭑ When he notices how much tea you drink on a daily basis, he’ll gift you the finest tea on the market as a 'good job' for completing missions successfully. You’ll know it’s from him because of it’s value and because he always leaves little notes on the boxes.

⭑ If you ever invite him to have some tea and sweets with you, trust that he will be there whether it be physically or using a hologram if he’s far away. He’ll prepare tea in his location and make it look like he’s actually present with you physically in the moment.

⭑ The longer AVENTURINE spends time with you, the more he finds himself subconsciously keeping a sweet treat with him at all times in case you’re craving something. If you’re off on a mission he’ll make sure to give you money for your tea and sweet treats alone and will ask you to send him pictures of what you got.

⭑ He’s is very interested in your feline features and traits. When you tell him about your rare case of atavism, he’s very intrigued. He may do his own little experiments like buying you cat toys to see your reaction which is up to interpretation. Also, he’ll bring you fish dishes during your lunch breaks whenever you forget to bring your food!

⭑ Loves watching your performances and would be honored if you asked him to assist you! If you ever want to hold something grand-scale he’ll be more than happy to rent you a full theatre to perform in. Best advertisements for your shows and everything.

⭑ When you open up to him about your past, he can only sit there is surprise and pity. You were so young yet already went through so much before joining the IPC. He can relate to you in some ways as well. He knows what it’s like to be sold off to men who only used instead of cared.

⭑ If you tell him that man may still be alive, he’ll do a bit of research. If he is, then AVENTURINE will have a lovely gambling match with him! No worries, it’s all for fun! Fun for you, at least, when you get to go shopping with all the money the man once had but now lost. Buy yourself some nice outfits and self-care products, you deserve it !!

⭑ If you ever have moments where you feel bad or icky from your past, or have nightmares, he’ll always be there to comfort you. Call him, text him, go up to him and ask for comfort, or if he’s near and notices he’ll come and ask you if you’re okay and if you wanna talk about it. He’s good at distractions. Why not have some snacks with him, It’s time for shopping, there’s this new restaurant that opened that serves purely seafood.

⭑ He’ll do the talking for you. If anyone tries to switch from him to you he’ll either let you give the weirdest response ever or steer them back to him. He also appreciates how you don’t beat around the bush and how frank you are.

⭑ You’re bad with machines and tech? AVENTURINE doesn’t think much of it until you wreck the fifth computer that month.. oh well, he’ll just buy you a new one. He’ll try his best to teach you and help you improve and fix your machinery clumsiness, but he’ll also tease you and joke about it.

"Tea is ready, now it's time for a short rest."

"Alright, just let me finish the last paper in this file and I’ll be right there. I have some new news about [+] from the genius society~"

⭑ The general of the Luofu attending your performances instead of working? More likely than you think! You various tricks and acts are a nice pass-time when he doesn’t feel like completing the mountain of paperwork stacked up on his desk. While you aren’t the most expressive person which may lead to some acts come off as dull, he finds amusement in how your personality contradicts your occupation.

⭑ A bit concerned when he spots you walking around the large ship without any supervision on multiple occasions, but it’s not his place to ask and you don’t look distressed or anything (not that you ever do.) However, he’ll order some cloud knights to keep a close eye on you just in case anyone were to try anything.

⭑ JING YUAN found out about your swordsmanship skills from Yanqing. It was when the young boy had returned from his training, utterly exhausted with his hair looking like had been attacked by a wind storm, that he is told about the teen with the feline features has some impressive swordsmanship.

⭑ That’s when his interest was piqued and he tries to interact with you. After performances he’ll give you some praise and ask how you’re doing. This, of course, makes you a bit nervous as this is the general of the luofu and here he his talking to you like you’re his kid,, so you do what you do best and hit him with one of your outlandish responses that makes him pause.

⭑ JING YUAN laughs thinking you’re pulling off one of your acts, but then you do it again and again and by the end of the interaction you have successfully made the general question if his age was getting to him.

⭑ Still, he will continue to praise you and ask how your day is after every performance, sometimes offering a game of starchess if you’re not too busy. His consistency is what gets you to trust him as he shows no ill-intent, especially after you grow closer to Yanqing behind the scenes as the boy constantly spars with you.

⭑ He doesn’t mind how frank and straightforward you can be. Like Aventurine, he’s worked with many different people and appreciates it. Your pokerface is also something he’ll praise you for as it’s very useful in combat and when playing against him.

⭑ When you open up about your past, JING YUAN can’t help the seed of anger that has been planted in him, and the more you share, the more that anger grows. He knows this world is cruel, but he had secretly hoped that it had been kinder to you. His relief is very evident on his features when you tell him that the man hadn’t been able to do anything relating to your body.

⭑ Will issue an order to a small group of cloud knights to find the man who had dared to put you through such a horrible experience. They won’t be the one to use him as a training target, however. That is for JING YUAN to enjoy. Oh, don’t mind him. Something important came up. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. You just enjoy your tea and sweets.

⭑ Speaking of tea and sweets, JING YUAN will always be down for tea time with youHe’ll try to clear at least a nice period in the afternoon to dedicate it to tea time with you. It becomes a tea party as Yanqing join you both sometimes. Takes tea time very seriously and will pause whatever he’s doing to attend. Clock strikes tea time? He’s leaving mid-conversation.

⭑ Cat naps!! It’s a big pile of you, him, mimi, and sometimes Yanqing, all curled up together and slumbering peacefully under the warm sun. He’ll use the excuse of keeping an eye on you when you’re napping just so he can nap as well. He indulges your cat instincts / traits a lot (sometimes you think he’s secretly a cat, too.)

⭑ Finds the fact that you’re very clumsy with machines very funny but also surprising. You’re so skilled with your blade and you perform such intricate acts and tricks that take years go master yet you struggle using a vacuum?? It’s a pretty bad case especially because the luofu is very mechanical-machinery reliant, so if anything randomly breaks, JING YUAN will just sigh as he knows it’s most likely you.

⭑ He won’t always be there to do the talking for you, but he’ll do his best. Plus, not many people will chat with you when the general is around. They’d either be too intimidated or just think it’s not in their place. If you ever wish to avoid social interaction, just stick next to him.

"Animals can also express their feelings. If you listen carefully, you can tell what state they are in. For a kitty, 'Meow~' means they are much happier than 'Meow meow meow!', and in that situation, you can pet them as much as you want and they won't run away."

"Hmm… is that so? Well, mimi makes more of a 'Meow… meow meow meow!' noise when I pet her. What emotion does that convey?"

⭑ This man does not interact with anyone, so how you two became close is still a mystery to the other stellaron hunters. Still, it’s clear that you both have some sort of bond that’s inseparable.

⭑ Missions with the both of you is just comfortable silence. The two of you are like the social outcasts of any setting. Well, at least the missions are completed swiftly. Most of the time, the third person of the mission doesn’t even have to do anything in the combat department. You both just slice and dice.

⭑ There is no doing the talking for each other because nobody talks to you both, anyways. People are too intimidated to talk to you both with how doll-esque you seem and how scary he is. You both are social interaction repellents and it can be a bit annoying for some, but people like Silver Wolf love it.

⭑ You both bond over not being the best with technology and machinery. You both never rarely use your phones and therefore are victims of having your phones used by other people. You both really couldn’t care less.

⭑ BLADE will watch your performances whenever he isn’t busy with missions. If you want him to help you, it’ll take a bit of convincing, especially if it involves you being in enclosures like being in a glass box with water or something. During dangerous tricks like those he’s very focused so nothing bad happens. Would prefer if he was the one at risk instead of you,,,

⭑ If you want to spar with him, he’ll be hesitant. Yes, you’re good with your sword, but he’s much much more skilled and he’s worried he’ll accidentally hurt you. He’l mentor you, however. Teaching is fine, but sparring is a big nono.

⭑ Doesn’t really care much for your feline features. BLADE has seen a lot of hybrids in his time so yours are not a shocker. He’ll be considerate of any boundaries and will make sure people don’t touch your ears or tail of course, but he won’t treat you any differently than any other person.

⭑ Will drink tea with you occasionally but he won’t eat the sweet treats. Likes tea himself, so he’ll enjoy your little tea times. He’ll bring back new types of teas you have yet to try during missions. If he’s going back to the planet or if it’s nearby and you liked a specific type, he’ll buy it again in larger portions so you can drink as much as you want.

⭑ Opening up to him is like talking to a wall. He looks stoic as always on the outside but trust that on the inside he has already thought of over 100 ways to make that man’s life a living hell. Like Jing Yuan, he knows the world is cruel. He will simply be crueler. Doesn’t take long for him to find the man who had bought you, and that day Blade’s bounty is soaring with how big the increase is.

⭑ Not the best with comforting others but if you’re having a bad day because of the memories or feel icky or something BLADE will make sure everyone gives you space and lets you have your you time. Will prepare tea and a snack for you, too.

"I used to think that the golden sun and dark shadows of the night could never understand one another. But in you, I see a kind of strange complexity that has needlessly piqued my curiosity..."

"…mmn.."

⭑ Another one that attends your shows! The news of a rising feline-featured performed piqued his interest, and so on opening night for your first show he could be seen seated in the spectator seats up top.

⭑ Really enjoys how your stoic demeanor balances your dramatic acts. While he knows your lack of enthusiasm isn’t the most encouraging for people to return or interact, he appreciates how different it is from the other over the top performers that litter penacony. SUNDAY soon becomes a regular at your shows.

⭑ It was you who came up to him first. You simply wanted to thank him for his consistent attendance and constant support, but he soon swept you int conversation and no matter how many odd and bizarre responses you gave him, he always managed to adjust to keep the conversation going. You cannot win with him.

⭑ These back-stage / after-show conversations soon become almost as frequent as his attendance to your performances. Also, his frequent attendance does not go unnoticed and when news of the head of the oak family being seen during almost every performance goes viral your popularity skyrockets.

⭑ Have you ever thought of security work as a side-occupation? It was when SUNDAY was escorting you to call a taxi that he saw your swordsmanship in action. Your theatre borders some dangerous territory, but memes were usually taken care of. He now knew who dealt with him as he watched you obliterate the ones that appeared. It reassures him knowing that you can take care of yourself.

⭑ Everyone in his residence knows how serious tea time is. Servants are rushing around in the kitchens trying to prepare the perfect sweets and snacks. To prepare the tea just the way you both like it, hot enough for SUNDAY but cool enough for you. The poor servants’ stress levels are always through the roof when it’s tea time preparation, and you are blissfully unaware of it all. By the time you’re in sunday’s office or lounge, everything has already been prepared.

⭑ Just like you are intrigued by SUNDAY’s halovian features, he is intrigued by your feline features. When you both are close enough, he’ll let you preen his wings and you’ll let him groom your ears and tail. He’s much more fussy with you, however. The second he spots a stray strand of fur in his office, he’s demanding your presence so he can get rid of the rest of the loose fur. He’ll get even more fussy before your performances and will always do last-minute checks before you’re out on stage.

⭑ Another one that appreciates your honesty and how you always cut straight to the point. Can always rely on you to tell him what he needs when he needs it. Also, your attention to detail is very useful and sometimes he’ll ask of you to focus on certain people during a show and report back to him.

⭑ The second you begin to open up about your past, SUNDAY is right beside you reassuring you to take it slow especially when you tell him about the man you were sold to. He’s pissed, rightfully so, but during the moment he’s supportive and makes sure to make it very clear that you are not anything negative you say about yourself should you do so.

⭑ SUNDAY is very good at interrogations, and with THEIR ability he’ll know if that wretched scum lies to him. There is no justifying, there is no 'the past is past' — there is no redemption. Once the man admits all he has done, he will be rid of. Vanished off the face of the cosmos. Nobody will know anything about him.

⭑ He’ll help you practice for performances, but he won’t go up on stage with you. He’d rather watch from afar as he doesn’t want to steal the spotlight from you. Your show nights are all about you, and he’ll make sure of it. There will be no disturbances and no casualties.

⭑ Funds all of your performances. Buys you any and all equipment you want and need. Want to expand your theatre? Done and without any charge. SUNDAY is your number one supporter and defender !!

⭑ He doesn’t mind doing the talking for you, but he’ll try and encourage you to talk for yourself. It would do you good to indulge in some small talk and conversation every once in a while! But if you insist you don’t want to and just want to be left alone without conversation, he’ll understand and drop it.

"After the sun goes down, the desires hidden in people's hearts will rise to the surface... I mean— evening shows are spectacular. Should I reserve a ticket for you?"

"Ahaha, yes, please do reserve a ticket."

⭑ Was creeped out the moment he met you. You were so still and expressionless that he thought you were a doll until you suddenly rushed forward and beat ass. If he had a heart it would’ve definitely stopped.

⭑ BOOTHILL couldn’t deny your swordsmanship was praiseworthy, however. Your agility, your sharp cuts, everything about it was impressive for someone your age. He tried to praise you but you gave him that stoic look and blurted out the most random sentence he’s heard and walked away leaving him dazed.

⭑ It doesn’t matter if your shows are expensive or not, BOOTHILL WILL get himself a ticket just to be able to figure out what it is with you. Also, because the idea of your dull expressionless self doing magic tricks had him doubling over in laughter. However, he was surprised at how professional you were with every act and trick.

⭑ Managed to sneak backstage and looked around for you only to find you gone. Was disappointed because he really did want to praise you for your skill— well, now skills. And maybe wanted to know who the hell trained you and how you were so good for a teenager.  Oh well, there was always the next show.

⭑ Or, there was always that same night. Saving you from some creepy men who were trying to do Aeons know what was all it took for you to glue yourself to him and use him as your meat shield. Not that BOOTHILL minded, it was kinda of in his job description and his morals to protect innocent people, especially when they were on the younger side.

⭑ He’s still a bit creeped out by how you’re so.. doll. You follow him around like a reserved duckling. And it’s not just following him around until the end of his stay — no, he literally finds you grabbing onto his jacket as he makes his way to leave to complete another bounty. There’s no getting rid of you and he’s accepted that.

⭑ He’ll definitely tease you about your feline features and behaviors. Calls you a clingy cat and will buy you cat toys as jokes. If you get upset, he’ll quickly apologize and make it up to you by taking you to your favorite seafood restaurant and letting you get whatever you want. If you don’t mind the jokes, then you’ll have a pile of cat toys that grows with each month!

⭑ Didn’t understand why you’d always stand in the corner of his mechanic’s shop when he was getting upgrades or repaired. He though it was just some teenage shyness but then one night he watched you blow up a literal vacuum. Terrified of you messing with his wires while he’s asleep charging. He tried to help, but gave up and backed away when you proceeded to fry your phone because it overheated.

⭑ Finds it absolutely hilarious when you’re interacting with people. Whether it’s your brutal honesty when talking to others or just one of your flabbergasting sentences to get them to leave you alone, it’s all comedic gold to him. Until it’s targeted at him,,, then uhm,,, yeah,,, okay maybe it’s a bit funny but still,,,,,

⭑ BOOTHILL knows he can come off as intimidating, and he’ll use it to his advantage if you don’t want anyone to talk to you. If someone tries to push it, they’ll have a nice revolver in their face and a protective cyborg ready to shoot at any moment should they push it even more.

⭑ When you open up to him about your past, all he can feel is rage — so much so that his internal fans are whirring to cool him down. He immediately asks you if you remember his name, his appearance, anything. He’ll also comfort you if you feel bad or feel like it’s your fault, which it definitely isn’t.

⭑ Oh sorry, he just got a new bounty you can’t go on. It’s just too dangerous! Don’t worry, you stay and spend all his money like some spoiled teen if you want. He’ll be back soon, you just relax and have a little you time!!

⭑ Would love to take part in your performances. He’s cautious if he’s on stage, however, and will probably use a disguise so nobody notices him since he is a wanted man, after all. He doesn’t want to risk your safety because of his status. He has yet to find out you also have a rising bounty on your head because you’ve been spotted numerous times with him.

⭑ BOOTHILL doesn’t mind your little tea time as long as it doesn’t get in the way of important bounties and dangerous missions. Even if it does, he’ll just tell you to maybe change your schedule? He’ll take you to a nice tea shop to make up for it but please focus on the bounty so it can be over with and you’ll be safe,,,

⭑ Really wants to know how you do that teacup card trick,,,

"I'm not accustomed to expressing myself, but I consider myself a good listener. If you have any troubles, tell me. I'll guard your secrets."

"I don’t doubt ya, kid."

⭑ DAN HENG initially did not expect you to trust anyone quickly when you first joined the express. It takes one to know one, but he can tell rather quickly that you were cautious of everyone despite your poker face. He doesn’t talk too much with you, not that he gets the chance as you give your weird replies to everyone who tries to talk to you.

⭑ He doesn’t realize that you inviting him for tea time in your room is a privilege only he has until March complains about your 'favoritism'. He’ll ask you about it and you’ll confirm it. He won’t ask why but it’s nice to know you trust him more than anyone else.

⭑ You both are social outcasts 2.0. He’ll do most of the talking for you both, but if anyone else from the crew is present, especially March, then they’ll do the talking for you both. He’s also the only one to understand your random response and to this day nobody knows how he does it.

⭑ Just like he needs to tend to his vidyadhara traits, you need to tend to your feline ones. Doesn’t mind if you randomly start shedding but will get a bit bothered if you leave your shedded fur around in the archives. If it gets to much he’ll sit you down and comb through your tail and ears’ fur himself. Also, if you’re comfortable with it, please put in some data about your avatism in the archives.

⭑ DAN HENG doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic during your performances, but he does enjoy them. He’ll clap and give some words of encouragement, but he’s not full on beaming. He just doesn’t know how to properly show his support physically so he’ll show it with praise and giving you trinkets and things he thinks you would or could use.

⭑ Also doesn’t mind helping you with acts and performances, and it’s funny how the both of you have this deadpan poker face while doing the most dramatic over the top jaw dropping trick. You both have a bit of a reputation on some planets that you’ve publicly performed during free time on missions,,

⭑ DAN HENG, like Blade, isn’t the best at comforting people — he can barely comfort himself. He’s a bit emotionally awkward. Still, he’ll try his best to comfort you as you open up to him about your past. He’s upset, but never at you. He’ll pat your back comfortingly or let you hug him.

⭑ If there’s ever a mission where he lays eyes on that man should he still be alive, DAN HENG will act on your behalf. He just needs to keep his skills sharp, that’s all. WORLD CLEANSING DRAGON—

⭑ If you have nightmares, you’re always free to sleep next to him in the archives. He knows how bad nightmares can be as someone who has suffered from them, and if you get embarrassed because you think it’s childish due to your age, he’ll pretend to still be asleep when you enter his room late to snuggle next to him.

⭑ Your clumsiness with technology and machinery genuinely concerns him. He’ll try to keep as little tech in your room as possible and will supervise you whenever you do literally anything with objects of the sort so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone around.

⭑ There’s a lot of things DAN HENG doesn’t realize he’s doing unless someone points it out. How he orders dishes that have some fish in them so he can give them to you, how he always makes sure your tea is cool enough for your sensitive tongue, how he know when you’re upset or not just from your ears.

⭑ Doesn’t mind sparring with you, but he’ll go easy on you. If you want him to mentor you, he’ll take it very seriously. He wants to make sure that you’ll be able to defend yourself should anything happen. Yes, he knows your swordsmanship is impressive for your age, but he also knows that impressive does not equal safety every time. He may be a bit strict, but it’s for your wellbeing so please don’t get upset.

"Go to sleep, I still have some loose ends to tie up from work today... I still have to fix the vacuum cleaner I broke.."

"That’s the third one this month.."

⭑ Was a bit surprised when he entered his lecture to find a feline-featured teenager sitting front row staring at him with a dead look. Was a bit creeped out, but whatever. He was fully expecting you to drop out after the first class.

⭑ Was surprised once again when you showed up for the next lecture. And the one after and after and after. Not to mention you were diligent and observant. You noticed a lot of things and after you two grew close, he’s a bit intimidated by how much you know and notice.

⭑ Some of the other students hate you for it bcs you can easily snitch on them if he ever asked you to. They can never say anything about it because you either ignore them or VERITAS steps in and scolds them.

⭑ You’re like a therapy cat for him but not in a weird way. If you let him, VERITAS will study your case of avatism. With how cat-like you behave, he’ll do some tests like scratching your ears and petting you. Would also see your reaction to cat toys. Now, why do I say therapy cat? Because your purring calms him down always. Also you make him feel like a cat dad.

⭑ He’ll get annoyed if you freely shed all around. Will scold you every time and then expect you to groom yourself properly. If you don’t he’ll get all huffy and frustrated as he does it himself but he really doesn’t mind. He just puts up an act.

⭑ You both are a scary duo. Some people think you’ve gotten your frank and brutal tongue from VERITAS, but you were like that since young. Still, many firmly believe you got it from him. You needn’t worry about unecessary conversation — people are too scared either you or him will rip them a new one for even looking at you. (exaggeration)

⭑ And while many are intimidated and scared of you, getting easily offended at your lack of sugarcoated words, VERITAS appreciates how blunt you can be. Will tell other people to be like you and doesn’t care if they get offended LMFAO

⭑ Probably the one on this list that’s the biggest enjoyer of tea time. You’ll be working on your assignments and be’ll be grading others’ assignments while enjoying sweet snacks and tea. Either that, you both sit in comfortable silence, or you’re dropping all the latest gossip you’ve heard and things you’ve noticed about your classmates that he hasn’t.

⭑ Contrary to the popular belief of his students, VERITAS finds himself enjoying your magic tricks and performances. It takes skill to do what you do, and he has to give credit where it’s due. He won’t really help during your acts, but he’ll give his input and ideas on how to improve like a better angle or quicker actions.

⭑ Also, VERITAS would encourage you to better cultivate your swordsmanship! I’d like to think he has connections, so he’ll find you someone if you want a mentor. If not, then that’s fine too. He’ll remind you everyday to go train for at least an hour. He won’t force you if you don’t feel like it, of course. As long as you’re with him, he’ll be able to protect you anyways.

⭑ Also one of the not-so-good comforters on the list when you open up about your past. So instead, he’ll brutally degrade the man you were sold to until you feel better. He’s trying his best, please understand that. He’ll give you an awkward pet to the head to top it all off.

⭑ I feel like VERITAS wouldn’t do anything to the man physically. Instead, he’ll care for your skills and enhance them until you’re known across the cosmos. Be it as a scholar, a sword fighter, a performer, or something else. Because in his eyes, that’s the best revenge.

⭑ Should that man still be alive, he will see that the one he saw as nothing but a toy to use is now one of the brightest stars in the cosmos, known all throughout while he is rotting away like the scum bastard he is.

⭑ Now, VERITAS is very prideful with his favorite and best student and he supports you, but,,,, but what is this,,,,, how are you so horrible with technology and machinery???? Were you born yesterday??

⭑ Like Dan Heng, he’ll supervise you whenever you’re using anything that has tech and/or machinery in it. Almost got a heart attack when he saw you tinkering with something that piqued your interest on Herta’s space station — VERITAS genuinely thought you’d bring the end of the station by blowing it up.

⭑ Would implement things in divergent universe (domain based off of tea time, occurrence, etc.) that relates to you and he wouldn’t even realize it until Screwllum points it out to which he denies.

"Making tea looks simple on the surface, but it is actually quite complex. The quality of the tea leaves, the temperature of the water, the number of times to add water... Only when every variable is properly controlled can tea of the purest taste be brewed. Would you like a cup?"

"You truly are passionate in the art of tea making, hm? But, yes, I would like a cup."

[froggiewrites]

Midnight Guest

Pairing: Vampire!Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your roommate is strange, you’ve always known that. Most of his habits seem like harmless eccentricities. His insistence that you lock your door when you sleep, due to his “sleepwalking,” confuses you more than anything. But when you forget one night and awaken to him standing over your bed, teeth bared, you start to think maybe there’s more to Law than meets the eye. Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Vampirism, Biting, Blood Drinking, Possessive/Obsessive Behavior, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 3.2k Halloween Special 2024

Your roommate was a strange man.

You had always known that, of course, from the moment you stepped foot into the house. It was old, built to be so beautiful and grand you could have confused it for a temple, a place of worship. And the rent he offered was far too good to be true. You couldn’t afford a studio for what he asked you to pay, let alone half of a gothic mansion to be shared with a mysterious and handsome man. There had to be something wrong with him, some reason he would give this offer to you of all people. He insisted it was just too big of a house to live in on his own, too lonely for one person. 

“I just…hate being alone,” he had admitted.

You didn’t believe that, not from someone as quiet as him.

You were extra sure he was strange when you had your first real conversation. He remained flat and reserved until you mentioned you had seen his comic collection, which made him light up like a Christmas tree. He told you about Sora, Warrior of the Sea for two hours after that, with a boyish enthusiasm you had never expected from a perpetually exhausted man covered in tattoos. It was cute, though he didn’t appreciate it when you pointed that out, cheeks growing pink and lips growing into what he would insist was not a pout. Yes, you had always known Law was strange, but in a fun way, the kind that brings more fond smiles than exasperation.

But some of his habits were starting to make you think he wasn’t quite as harmless as you had convinced yourself.

The first time you awoke with him standing over you, eyes flashing in the dark, you screamed. He had the nerve to jump back as well, as though you had scared him. Sleep walking, he had called it. You don’t know many people who sleepwalk with their eyes open and their teeth baring down on you. But he was so apologetic, you couldn’t help but let it slide.

“I’ve just been so tired from work lately,” he had admitted quietly, cheeks pink and voice tight with embarrassment. “That hasn’t happened since I was a kid. I’m sorry. I…don’t really know how to stop it, but I’ll try. Maybe I need to get more sleep.”

“I think you should,” you had agreed, dripping with good natured concern. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you look like you haven’t slept in years. I’ve been worried about you, honestly.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate it. Maybe I do need a bit more rest. But…maybe you should sleep with your door locked. Just in case I sleepwalk again. I wouldn’t want to give you such a rude awakening twice.” He had said something else, but frankly you were a little too focused on his hands flexing nervously, showing off his long, tattooed fingers, to catch whatever it was.

And since you had taken his advice, you hadn’t woken up to any more men lurking over your bed. You had, however, woken up to the jiggling of your door handle more than once. One time, you had even heard a knock echoing through the room, though he didn’t answer when you called out to ask him what he wanted.

You also couldn’t help but notice how empty the fridge and pantry were, or how little you saw him eat. He had a small snack here or there, but he seemed to subsist mostly on coffee and whatever he keeps in those tumblers he always has nearby. You had asked once, but he brushed it off, changing the subject not-so-subtly. You assumed they were protein shakes, or some other supplement he used to avoid having to sit down and enjoy a real meal. A lot of Law’s life seemed like he was actively trying to avoid living it. He had his hobbies and friends, of course, but any of the mundane pleasures of life, like eating, sleeping, or even human interaction outside of his chosen few people he avoided like the plague. He focused on his work, and anything else was either carefully penciled in or discarded entirely.

Every conversation you had about it was unproductive. He insisted he was fine, that this was just how he was, but there was always a tension around him, one you can’t help but think would disappear if he would only allow himself to live for once. But you can’t say that to him. How can you ask a man if he even enjoys being alive?

But tonight was the night you would learn your concerns were all for nothing, due only to a lack of information, and nothing more.

You try another conversation about your concerns when he wanders into the kitchen while you’re cleaning up. You know it won’t lead anywhere, but you have to try. “Do you think you’ve been sleeping better, Law?”

He hums noncommittally.

“...Have you actually been trying?”

“I’ve…had a lot to deal with.”

You frown, turning around to face him. “Has work not let up at all? You’ve been running yourself ragged for months.”

He avoids your eyes. “It’ll pass soon.”

“That’s what you said two months ago.” You reach across the counter for his hand, fingers brushing lightly against his, and he frantically pulls his hand back as though he’s been burned. You try not to show your hurt on your face, but from the guilt on his, you know you’ve failed. “I’m…I’m just worried about you. I feel like things have only gotten worse for you since I moved in. Maybe I should just–”

He jumps at that, quick to correct, to move you away from that train of thought as fast as he can. “No, no, that’s not true. And you shouldn’t do anything different. Having you around has been…this is the most alive the house has felt in years. I’m just tired, really.”

“You’re still sleepwalking.”

He tenses. “Am I?” Something about his tone is strange. He doesn’t seem like he’s surprised, or at least not surprised that he is. More surprised that you know.

“Yeah. You really didn’t start doing that until I moved in?”

“Well, no one would be able to tell me if I had.” He still isn’t looking at you.

You sigh. Even knowing how unproductive these talks are, it’s always a disappointment to learn he won’t open up to you. You honestly can’t figure out why he keeps you around. Your presence clearly stresses him out, even if he won’t admit it. “Just…try to get some rest, please. And eat a real meal for once. You’re a doctor, you should know how to take care of yourself.”

He finally looks at you again, self deprecation radiating from his tight smile. “Right. I’ll try.”

He won’t.

But you can. After you finish wiping down the counters, you get ready for a long night of sleep. No point in staying up worrying over things you can’t control. A long, warm shower and comfy pajamas are sure to fix your problems.

And they do, really, for the few hours you remain asleep.

But then you hear the door open.

No jiggling handle, no knocking, nothing. Just the quiet creak of the hinges, and footsteps approaching. You’ve barely opened your eyes before you can feel the bed start to shift, and you look up to see the same sight you did months ago: Law, eyes feral and needy, his mouth open, teeth looking particularly long and sharp in the moonlight. Before you can open your mouth, you can feel his body against yours, every inch of him stiff, his hands clutching your shoulders, his teeth growing closer and closer to your neck.

“Law?”

His eyes are still hazy, his mouth still approaching.

“Law!” You try to push his arms away, but you find you’re not strong enough to make him budge for even a moment. But the fear in your voice when you realize you’re about to feel his teeth against you makes him stop midair, his eyes focusing a little.

“Huh?” He looks down at you in his arms, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he throws himself back with a speed and strength you didn’t know he had. You can hear him slam against the wall behind him, knocking all of your wall decorations askew and making the wall make a concerning creak. He stares at you, arms out, as though something is pinning him down, and he looks absolutely beautiful bathed in the moonlight that sneaks through your curtains. His eyes are hungry, and you can see his canines peeking out from his lips, almost looking like fangs. He’s naked except for a pair of gray sweatpants, hair mussed and tattoos on full display.

“Law?” He stares at you, still torn between hunger and fear. As you shift to sit up, you can see his eyes flicker between your neck and your breasts, your pajamas giving him a clear view of your cleavage. Normally you would be embarrassed, but the tension in the air makes you forget your vulnerability for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“You forgot to lock your door,” he murmurs, voice thick and deep. He hasn’t looked away from you for even a moment, and he hasn’t moved an inch.

“You were going to bite me.”

He licks his lips, something he often does around you. You had always thought it was a nervous habit, but combined with the look in his eyes, you’re starting to suspect perhaps there’s another reason. “I told you to keep your door locked.” It sounds like speaking takes effort, and you notice his hands trembling slightly.

“Why were you going to bite me?”

“I need to leave,” he says, not moving, staring intently at your exposed skin. He’s breathing heavily. His canines seem to have grown even longer. “Or maybe you should leave.”

“You’re…you haven’t been sleepwalking at all. You’ve been trying to get in every night. To bite me. With your teeth.”

“I…have.”

“Are you…” You can’t bring yourself to say the word, even with all of the evidence in front of you. It feels unreal, so ridiculous you feel as though you’re watching someone else live through it all.

“Yes.”

“And you’re hungry?”

His chest is heaving with the effort of holding himself back. “Very.”

“And you asked me to live with you anyway?”

He forces his eyes closed, pushing his head back against the wall. “It wasn’t very smart of me. I…I knew I couldn’t let you leave the moment you walked through that door. I needed you to stay. You don’t know what it’s like. …I thought I would have more self control than this, really.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

“Why couldn’t you let me leave?” You hate that your voice has a tinge of hope in it, like you aren’t in terrible danger, like your silly little crush on your roommate is more important than the very real threat he poses.

“You’re…you. And god, I need you.” He huffs out another breath. “You need to leave, really. Before I lose control.”

That should not have sent a shiver of excitement up your spine. “What if I didn’t?”

“Then I’d bite you.”

“And what if I wanted that?”

His eyes shoot open, and before you know it you’re pinned to the bed, a starving animal holding you down, every muscle in his body taut. “You…you shouldn’t…” He struggles to even get the words out, to keep up his good guy act when you can see the hunger in his eyes.

You lean up, exposing your neck fully, and just smile.

You’re pierced in a second.

The sensation is colder than you expected, and for a moment it really and truly feels like you’re going to die. Like you’ve made some horrible mistake for a pretty face and you’re going to pay the price for it. But before long, the ice in your veins fades away, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. It almost feels like you’re drunk, as your eyelids droop and an easy smile comes to your face.

You can feel every inch of Law pressed into you, from his warm tongue against your neck to his solid chest against yours and, most importantly, his hard and aching cock rutting against your thigh as he drinks. He hardly takes any time away from your neck, but whenever he does he’s panting, practically moaning against you. One of his hands goes to your chest, palming clumsily at your breasts, which easily spill out of your flimsy top. He looks down to see them, and groans from deep within his chest. “God, look at you.”

You try to respond, but in an instant he’s against your neck again, suckling, while his hand finds your nipple and pinches it between his fingers. You moan, far louder than you would ever admit, and your hips rut up into his. You can feel a wetness soaking easily through your pajama shorts, which he finds as well as he rubs against you, forcing the fabric between your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Your nails find his hair, gripping for dear life, and you hear him moan again. You can’t see them, but you can practically feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You try to speak again, to tell him to please fuck you, to complete the pleasure of the moment, but the only thing that leaves your lips is a pathetic cry of, “Law!”

He pulls himself back from your neck, lips dripping with your blood, staring at you ravenously. You fear he might swallow you whole. You fear you might enjoy that. His hand comes up, fingers gathering the blood dripping from his lips and chin. He maintains eye contact as he slowly and deliberately licks his fingers clean, refusing to waste even a drop of you. You clench your thighs together, which once again rubs the fabric against your clit just right, making you moan softly. His pupils blow out even further at the sound, his eyes nothing but inky blackness and desire.

You aren’t sure if it’s the warmth in your veins or your desire for Law that leaves you so pliable, so vulnerable underneath him. Either way, you find your thighs falling apart and your arms wrapping around him, begging him to take you. You whisper to him, “Please, Law, please. Finish what you’ve started. Have me.”

He leans down to clean the rest of the blood off of your neck with his tongue. “I want you,” he groans. “I have since the moment I saw you. God, you’re so delicious.” You feel his teeth graze against you again, desperate for a second taste. “You taste even better than I imagined, better than I dreamed.”

“You dreamed about me?”

“Every goddamn night. You’ve been haunting me.” He nips at your neck gently. “I couldn’t let you leave, no matter how much better it would be for you. I’m sick.”

You thrust your hips against his again, making his eyelids flutter and a soft choked noise escape his throat. “I’ve wanted you just as long.”

“I’ve never lost control over myself like this. You’ve done something to me.” He says it almost like an accusation.

You wrap your thighs around his waist in response, forcing your hips together again. “You’ve done something to me, too. I’d like you to finish it, if you don’t mind.”

He growls against your skin, something feral finally unleashing from him, and in one smooth motion he’s ripped off your pajama pants and underwear, leaving you bare and dripping for him. He thrusts into you in one smooth motion, making you nearly scream as your eyes roll back from the sensation. His pace is frantic, like if he stops for even a moment you’ll change your mind, or he’ll come to his senses, and it will all be over.

“Need you,” he mutters. “Need you to stay. Say you’ll stay.” There’s some deeper thread of desperation here, his voice pleading, nearly afraid. Like after all of this you’ll see him for what he is and leave him all alone in this house again, to be forgotten by time and left to rot.

“I’ll stay,” you moan. “I won’t leave you, Law.”

His hand finds your clit, a reward for giving him what he needed. His hands are as skilled as you had always hoped they would be, callused and moving exactly how you want them to. He makes you clench around him, ready to come undone so quickly under his attention. “You’re so alive,” he whispers. “So beautiful. And mine.”

“Yours, yes, yours!”

“Forever,” he insists.

“Forever!”

With your promise, his thrusts quicken, growing sloppy as he loses what little control he had left. His fingers and hips work frantically, bringing you to the edge easily, causing you to tighten around him as your vision goes white. At the same time, his teeth come down on your neck again, and he spills inside of you, filling you to the brim as he freely takes what he wants.

You’re panting, your heart pounding out of your chest, your blood flowing freely into Law’s waiting lips. Once he’s had his fill, he licks you clean again, before raising his head to look you in the eyes. “Forever?” He asks again.

“Forever,” you confirm.

He smiles. You watch as he bites his bottom lip, his fangs easily piercing the soft flesh, and he kisses you deeply and desperately. The taste of iron fills your mouth, at first repulsive but quickly growing into something sweet and irresistible. You lean further into him, sucking on his lip, taking whatever you can get, only stopping when he pulls back, pinning you down so you can’t chase his lips.

“Forever,” he whispers, tone filled with wonder. He kisses you again, tenderly, almost worshiping. “And you won’t have to spend a moment of it alone.”

You’re starting to grow unbearably hot, but even as you squirm, Law doesn’t allow you to move. He holds you there, under him, cock still inside of you. “Law, it’s hot. I need–”

“I know. It’ll pass.” He grins, teeth flashing dangerously in the light.

“What?” The haziness from blood loss and whatever endorphins came from a vampire’s bite start to wear off, and you start to tense. “What’ll pass?”

He doesn’t give you a straight answer. “It won’t hurt much, I promise.”

“Law, what did you do?”

He smiles, nuzzling you affectionately. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. You won’t have to try to figure it all out alone. It’ll be the two of us, figuring it all out together. And we’ll have forever to do it.” He kisses you again as the heat overtakes you, turning swiftly from discomfort to pain.

But you’ll be alright, of course. Law is right there to walk you through it.

And he will be forever.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl

[controld3vil]

sand walking?

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic!!)

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: how to seduce someone walking on sand.

notes: there hasn't been confirmed for dune 3 yet but denise villeneuve has said he's writing for it to happen. ill patiently wait for the day it's confirmed :) ALSO there are fictional/made-up mentions of the novel for the sake of the reader. they're made to be gender-neutral!! and this includes platonic flirting between cast members. i MAY have gotten carried lmaoo

“I mean- what do you think of the character? Do you think they deserved more screen time?” The clip starts off with you comfortably conversing with the interviewer. To say you weren’t deflecting their curiosity. In actuality, you were eager to learn what others thought about your performance and take on the character. The only other interpretation had on-screen was from the classic 1984 film by David Lynch.

The clip that has been widely retweeted back is of a cute moment you had from the first film of Dune (2021). Before release, little was known about your character’s potential. Apart from the enthusiastic book lovers, film viewers were clueless about what role your character would play after the first movie.

Denise Villeneuve didn’t reveal much to you in person. He wanted to keep ideas confidential until he was 100% on board making the project come to life. Still, rumors sparked through speculation and interviews with the cast members of Dune. Including an infamous short, that you forgot about, of yourself boasting about your hopes and wishes for your character.

“Yes! How could we not!” On the opposite side, the interviewer exclaimed as they leaned forward from their chair, closing into your proximity. Their hands clenched, tightening their grip on the flash card, full of questions. “The movie left us on such a cliffhanger. I think everyone would want to know what happened to Nerre,”

“That’s for Denise to decide,” Nodding you gave a relaxed smile while lifting one leg over the other. Your shoulders relaxed, feeling content and ecstatic about their response. “I can’t confirm anything until he gives me the green light to say anything,”

“I’ve also talked to Timothée this morning,” A shift in gears as the journalist flipped over another flashcard. You two had just fussed about the finale and its dramatic cliffhanger. “And all he had to say were the sweetest things about you,” At the mention of your costar compliments, you felt your skin heat up. Your eyes soften, expressing only fondness for the lovely message. A soft awh escaped your breath. “He’s very sweet. Timothee's always been fun to be around.” A fervent chuckle from the interviewer sends them into a feverish excitement. “And- he said- you had great flirting skills!” It was then your face morphed into complete shock and giddiness . “Really?!” The camera pans up on your initial reaction, eyes popping out in surprise and a bubbling laugh slowly erupting. “I’m glad someone appreciates my talents!”

Without context, the short clip seemed harmless. Your sheer reaction to Timothee's comment emphasized the fun chemistry the two of you had on set. Mirroring much of Paul and Nerre's friendship, you both complimented each other well in the first film, being the youngest surrounded by well-renowned actors. But the reason for the recent spike of interest was partially from Dune: Part Two and their interviews.

Fast forward to the debut of Dune: Part Two, it made success at the box office. Even surpassing the first film altogether. The entire cast of Dune was proud of the work they've made. The introduction of new characters played by wonderful actors and actresses all around.

Weeks after the early IMAX screenings, press interviews were being published amongst of the young cast members. A particular interview by IGV Presents brings together Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Florence Pugh, Austin Butler, and yourself.

This would be considered to be one of your first interviews with the Dune cast after the box office release. You felt nervous yet overjoyed at the same time to be meeting your co-actors again after the conclusion of filming had taken place.

The spokesperson of IGV, Simon Harkness starts off the interview strong with a pleasant greeting. "Congratulations on an incredible movie. Uhm it is the definition of a sci-fi blockbuster and is absolutely phenomenal, so huge congratulations to you all!"

"Thank you!" The five of you all politely cherish his kind words.

"It's so lovely to talk to you. Um- Timothee, Zendaya, I'm going to start with you. This is probably the hardest question I've ever asked in an interview so you've been warned." An endearing giggle can be seen from Zendaya before allowing him to continue. "Sand walking, who does it better?"

Timothee immediately lifts up his microphone. "I'm going to give it to Zendaya here." Without glancing at her, you could tell Zendaya was happily smiling at his compliments. How quick he was to answer made it seem how well connected the cast was even given the amount of time spent together. The main lead continues very swiftly, diving more into how cinematic the shot was from an outside perspective, "I think it's the most- one of the most cinematic shots in the movie and she really has it very precisely down but it's the nature of the movie too that she's supposed to be better than Paul,"

"Is that what it is?" In return, Zendaya who sat next to him gave him a teasing look.

Quietly from afar where you sat, next to Austin Butler, you whispered. "He acted like he couldn't do it but," Soft snickering can be heard across the room.

"In fairness to me, I was going 65%- 65 to 70 too hard," Chalamet reasons justly as he glances in your direction before looking back to the interviewer.

"You dumbed it down," Harkness nods in a high-spirited manner. Right after, Timothee reluctantly agrees, keeping the mood light-hearted.

"I had to!"

"Just how committed you are!" Austin steps in, joining in on the joke.

"Zendaya, you can take that crown. I love that," The brown-haired man reassures as she recuperates with appreciative laughter. In truth, it was a beautiful scene between Paul and Chani you were lucky enough to witness behind the camera. And contrary to their light banter, you thought both actors did well at accomplishing what it was meant sand walk. Truthfully you had no scenes beyond walking through the desert but understanding the mechanics and traditions of the Fremen was as fascinating as it was watching it up close.

Suddenly it was Florence's turn to speak, "Zendaya taught me the other day and I had to just stop to stare at her feet."

"The swoopy swoop?" You asked in a cutesy tone, with furrowed eyebrows. You couldn't help but remember the few instances you witnessed your costars practice the sand walk to be one of the more adorable rehearsals you've seen on the sand.

"Yeah, her feet were so pretty! She was doing the swoopy swoops," The blonde acknowledges, waving her hands in a zig-zag pattern. As the replication of water and how her feet moved.

The interviewer's eyes light up, "Honestly I tried to swoopy swoop at home- um because we have a carpet in the bedroom."

"How did it go?" The mixed actress puts forward.

"Awful!" An assembly of bewilderment is seen between Zendaya and Florence as they quickly question why. However, they reassure him in the end that they would practice together in hopes of him archiving the sand walk.

Talks with simple questions went down the row. Florence discusses her experience from her beginnings, starring in Little Women, comparing those scenes in terms of royalty to Dune. In both films, she's worked with well-known actors and now Christopher Walken as the emperor and her father. She raves about how it was a dream come true. A dream she had when she was little. From this experience, Florence emphasizes the concept of learning and observing her fellow actors.

Another intriguing topic follows Austin for his experience between learning choreography fighting and Elvis's iconic rubber legs. In a sense, as you leaned forward on one of your seats, you became fascinated by the Elvis actor's comparison of it all. While Elvis's moves were televised and had to be precise for the camera, being a Harkonnens gave him more leverage in the freedom to move. It was a captivating question that you couldn't help but want to listen to more.

Comparisons aside, you didn't have much to note for your upcoming question. Which is exactly why you felt unprepared for what he was going to ask.

Harkness brings up your name for the finale. "You have done stunt work before. For the first and now second film, I've heard you compared it to rather- dancing. Is that what you think your relationship with the choreography has been?"

You gave a content hum, "You see it with the Fremen or Harkonnens right? Everyone moves so differently and for the course for me, I've had to adjust my choreo little by little. And I think that analogy you mentioned really does relate back to dancing. I don't know if it's because I was once a dancer or that I'm a visual learner," You shrug your shoulders, "But I see the choreography as a dance routine. You're moving alongside people, doing hits and jabs. Both are very hands-on so I would like to approach it as something I can always work on." Satisfied with your answer, you clapped your hands together.

"Kind of like sand walking no?" It was then that Zendaya swerved counterclockwise to face you.

Bringing back the conversation they had in the beginning about sand walking, your eyes instantly brighten. "Exactly like that!"

"I feel like you would be great at sand walking," Florence puffs, mindlessly shaking her microphone back and forth. "You- You already got the moves." Even Timothee came into agreement, humming and commenting you worked well with the choreography.

Austin Butler raises his microphone. "I think you gotta learn with me because I don't think I could,"

"Nonsense!" You give him a silly glare. "If you can do a killer rubber leg, I think you can sand walk." Florence and Zendaya both mumble their support and your male costar leans to have his arm around the back of your chair, warmly.

"Is that an open invitation I see?" The spokesperson, Harkness giggly pokes at than the rest of the cast turns to look at you. Your scowl morphs into an innocent one.

"Hm?" As you squint your eyes in hesitation.

"I feel like you could have the potential to sand walk but just with the right partner," Timothee chimes in, spreading his arms over his chair as well. Your brows furrowed accusingly, as if wanting to clarify what he meant by his comment.

And the French actor gives you a look, one you became so sure of. "Mm right!" A slight eruption of laughs before you straightened your back with proper posture. "With just the right partner,"

There were also hints mentioned in your interview with Timothee surprisingly not. This was one of the more recent ones to be published, as you finally were able to pair up with your favorite co-star (besides Brolin) from the first film. The two of you had strong chemistry despite having less screen time together in the second film.

The beginning of the video cuts to a clip of you answering an innocent question. "What I think about every day, is Timothee going to send to me a meme today? Uh, I hope so!" You give a sarcastic look to your seat partner as he latently laughs in front of you. "Or when is he going to text me you know?"

It then transitions to an interviewer from Heart commercial radio as he shouts out your names. "How are you both?"

"I'm doing good!"

"Going great!"

The radio show was more relaxed than you would've expected as the spokesperson was very down to the earth with his conversation starters and contagious warmth. Timothee was able to catch up with him from his last interview when he premiered his Wonka film. Eventually, the interview became more casual discussing working together, cooking, and trendy topics.

Timothee and you both went back and forth on favorite memories you had of the first film. And talking about the new cast members and new elements it had brought to the table for the film itself.

"Cool new characters this time," As you played around with the fuzzy microphone the camera crew gave to you.

"Yup lots of new people to meet," Timothee adds on, nodding.

The interviewer proceeds with the question, "And also you have seen- there's a clip about of you running around actually." He signals to you, "Of your reaction to something Timothee said about your performance in the first film,"

"Oh! I've seen it," Almost instinctively, your co-star raises his hand. "I was supposed to send it to you but I forgot." As he turns, to finds you looking lost at the topic at hand.

"Really what was it?" You almost looked concerned, seeing how you didn't understand what they meant.

Luckily for you, the Heart radio spokesperson managed to get a hold of the video from his phone, "It was a little callback of Timothee raving about your flirting skills."

As it plays, the camera zooms in on you and your co-actors reaction. The French actor couldn't help but look slightly embarrassed but smitten when the timing of your reaction came on screen. While you held an intrigued stance, arms crossed and a content grin.

"I am pretty good at flirting,"

"You really are, huh." At the same time, you both turn to make eye contact.

"I also heard Tim- that you thought that they would be your love interest initially?" At the radio speaker's inquiry, you couldn't help but in mid-sentence, finally, swerve your head suddenly.

"Yeah well, fun fact actually," The male actor tries to reason, sitting up. "In the novels, Paul and Nerre almost did become a couple!"

It was a well-known fact of that in the first novel, there had been slight changes to the story. Initially, it was said that the author, Frank Herbert had planned for Paul and Nerre, the character you played to have a romantic connection after the fall of House Atreides. Nevertheless, it was later scrapped for another plot, that of instead having Chani as the love interest. But even decades later after the novel’s release, it was something fans still fuss about.

"Oh, I heard about that!" Almost in awe, you nodded, your attention fully on Chalamet, wondering how far he was willing to go beyond spoilers.

"Do you think Nerre would ever meet someone then?" The afro man questions, adjusting his microphone. "Since- Paul has Chani, I feel like if we ever get a potential third film, that could open some doors!"

"If a third film could happen," You start, fiddling with the lining of the mic cover, "I hope so! I mean I got the moves, I got the skills!"

"Keep practicing your sand walk and we'll see," Timothee cutely chimes as you proceed to blow a raspberry at him. Only for him to lightly swat you away.

Despite your failures to have scenes of sand walking, your cast of a crew were more than happy to show you. Javier Bardem and Jessica Ferguson were quite supportive in your interest for something you did not have any part-time. A few behind the scene videos show the actor demonstrating from afar the slower version of the walk.

Though your back was facing the camera, viewers would pick up and recognize it to be you. Jessica as well was off to the side, in her luminescent costume of a million robes, clapping from side to side.

Another later pans to you taking long strides across the sand in the background. In front of the camera are Josh Brolin and Javier having their turn in the video, to discuss their relationship and the previous they have worked on together. However, viewers couldn't help but pinpoint your figure alongside the frame trying to master the patterns of what Javier taught you from the previous clip.

[bouquetface]

DK through the Houses

Darakaraka (DK) Is the planet that has the lowest degree in your vedic natal chart. DK is said to represent your spouse.

Planet, sign + aspects will influence the accuracy. This is going to give surface level insight. It is not a personal read of your placement.

DK in 1st House

You can be controlled by the spouse. This can indicate they are decisive and assertive. They will plan/handle most things that happen in your life. Depending on the planet and its sign placement, you can like or dislike this about the spouse/marriage.

DK in 2nd House

Your money is likely to be managed by the spouse. Spouse may cook or you cook mainly what they desire. Spouse will influence the relationship you have with your family after marriage - bring you closer, separate you or remain neutral. This will depend on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment).

DK in 3rd House

Your spouse can influence your communication - who you talk with, what you talk about, etc.

Your spouse can take the responsibility of communicating with neighbours. They can befriend neighbours or if reason to talk with neighbours occurs, they will take care of it.

Your spouse will influence you relationship with siblings. This can be negative (conflict occurs) or positive (they become friends). This would depend on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment).

DK in 4th House

Spouse will take on main (not full) control of the home. Where, which home you buy. How the home is decorated. Fixing the home if something goes wrong. Cutting grass, cleaning gutters, etc.

When poorly placed, they may refuse to take any responsibility for the home.

The spouse will take on responsibility for your happiness. Either they feel obligated to keep you happy or your happiness is heavily affected by spouse's moods. Accuracy will heavily be influenced by planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment).

DK in 5th House

Spouse will be very focused on children - raising them or having them. They will influence your education and hobbies as well. EX: Depending on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment), they may encourage or discourage you if you wanted to get higher education. They may want control of children's education - homeschool, public or private school, religious school, etc.

DK in 6th House

Spouse will take on responsibilities of your enemies and health. Depending on planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment), the spouse could encourage your anger or encourage you to resolve issues you have.

EX I have seen irl: Sun DK conjunct Venus in 6th: This person does not speak to their biological parents, spouse encouraged them to talk issues out with them. This person declined but still we see the spouse suggesting resolution.

Spouse could be very routined. They could influence your diet - vegan or non-vegan. If you have pets, they could take on more responsibility of taking care of those pets.

Your marriage is likely to be very even especially is venus or libra influences this placement. I have observed this in so many relationships where the spouse and person split household chores, cooking, dish washing, bills, etc. It is not likely for the couple to divide based on traditional gender roles like man will cut the grass, woman will cook and do dishes. It's more like one will cook, the other will do dishes.

DK in 7th House

Spouse will take on main responsibilities for partnerships in your life. They will involve themselves in any conflict you get into - ex: you are fighting with you sister over something small, they will involve themselves in the conversation.

If you were to get into any legal issues, they will take on responsibility like helping fill paper work, reminding you of court date. However keep in mind, accuracy is dependent on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment).

DK in 8th House

Your spouse can be heavily involved in their own family matters. They can be very secretive and observant. EX: Someone who pays a lot for good home security.

Accuracy dependent on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment).

DK in 9th House

The spouse will teach you something. They can educate you on their beliefs, politics or religion or culture. Depending on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment), the spouse could do this arrogantly or kindly.

You can meet mentor type people through the spouse. Like someone from the spouse's family could help you advance your knowledge on your career, your beliefs, your education, etc.

DK in 10th House

The spouse is a workaholic. Depending on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment), spouse could positively or negatively influence your career and reputation. EX: Saturn DK in Cap 10th, spouse's discipline and dedication to career inspires you to start doing better.

Spouse could influence your career by somehow deciding where you work, what you do for work, if you can change your career or not. They can involve themselves in your career and work. You could end up working together or meeting at work.

EX: You are a teacher, they will suggest ideas for projects that you take. Or spouse will decide where you work because they decide to move for their career, thus you have to look for a new job in the new location.

If badly placed, they may be very lazy. They could hate working and taking responsibility for anything 10th H related. They may nap and sleep in a lot. This would show AFTER marriage not before.

DK in 11th House

Your spouse will influence your social circle. They can introduce you to new people. They can intentionally or unintentionally separate you from old friend - ex: you move & meet new people, lose touch with your childhood friends.

Your spouse will influence your desires/goals in life. An example I have seen: person wanted to travel and study abroad for a masters, after marrying their spouse this changed to wanting to raise a family. They had Moon DK in sag 11th House.

Accuracy for yourself will be influenced by the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment). As well as aspects and 7th House.

DK in 12th House

Your spouse can control the money that you spend.

Your spouse can influence your sleeping habits. EX: You can't sleep until spouse is in bed or spouse develops sleep apnea.

Accuracy will be dependent on the planet (is it benefic or malefic) and the sign (neutral, exalted or detriment).

[sodomit]

TRANSUNITY

Transunity is a political theory that was actively talked about on Tumblr a couple of years ago, but has since fallen out of the public spotlight. And this is unfortunate, because it could have really improved a lot of the discourse around gender.

There exists a blog under that name ( @transunity ), but it has been inactive for a year. I am not affiliated with that blog anyhow, I never had any personal contacts with its mods, but I want to get their general ideas to circulate again, so I'm trying to bring this back up in a semi organized fashion. My take on transunity is just my take, if you're one of the original coiners, and you disagree, I encourage you to talk about it, because we still have much more in common with each other than different.

GENERAL VIEWS

I believe that one of the fundamental ideas more trans people need to understand is that we're all more or less in the same place in the eyes of the society (when other factors, such as ethnicity or disability, are considered). To be trans is to fail the gender role system, from the point of view of cis people we can no longer be proper men or women. All kinds of trans people regardless of identity are affected by misogyny and misandry (not a type of marginalization by itself, but turns into a vector of oppression when overlapping with a different marginalization), which forms the foundation of transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism*. These types of bigotry are not exclusive and unique to specific gender identities either and may be applied to any trans person for as long as it's convenient to the oppressor.

Trans people do not have gendered power over each other, and intra community bigotry is better conceptualized as a form of lateral aggression.

Gender assignment and sex are never strictly binary (especially with inclusion of intersex people, who belong in gender conversations even if they don't identify as trans) and need to be understood as much more fluid and not strictly correlating with one's actual position in life.

WHAT WE NEED TO REDUCE

The following things should be discussed more critically:

- "Powerjacketing" - implying someone has gendered privilege as a means of delegitimizing their words, while in reality they do not have this privilege;

- Malgendering - forcing trans people to choose between being gendered correctly and speaking up about their mistreatment (e.g. questioning trans women's womanhood on the basis of them aggressively defending themselves or trans men's manhood on the basis of them asking for help) or implying there's something wrong with them in a way that reinforces gender stereotypes;

- Assuming that some trans people are exempt from some forms of oppression on the basis of gender assignment/sex (e.g. by calling all trans people who were assigned female "tme"** or claiming trans people who were assigned male are inherently incapable of understanding fear of sexual assault);

- Assuming that oppression of trans people is rooted in gender assignment/sex (such as, calling reproductive oppression "sex based oppression"***);

- Gatekeeping certain identities, such as "transmasc", "transbian", "femboy" as exclusive to any gender assignment/sex;

- Creating a duality out of "transsexual" and "cissexual", where not medically transitioning trans people are assumed to have some kind of a gendered privilege, or to not be trans in any meaningful material way. Various transmed ideas about dysphoria and transition go there too;

- Accusing trans people who take inspiration from each other of appropriation (trans headcanons, kinks, drag culture, etc).

SYMBOL

The following image is the official transunity symbol developed by the original transunity bloggers. Sorry about the glitch effect, I wasn't able to find one without it.

* Transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism are not exclusive to specific identities, although they do primarily target traits associated with these identities. They can be conceptualized as bigotry and oppression towards people who are recognized as incorrectly entering respectively womanhood, manhood, and a status beyond gender binary (for the latter no normative form exists****). However, it's not wrong to use them to mean "oppression of trans women" and so forth, for as long as you're not claiming it's exclusive.

** Labels like "tma" and "tme" still may be used, but solely in a self assigned manner. I believe that an individual trans person is capable of evaluating whether they're affected by transmisogyny and in what way, and they should be trusted on this. However, no gender assignment and no current gender identity makes anyone inherently tme.

*** "Sex based oppression" instead of "reproductive oppression" reinforces the idea that people who share a specific body part (e.g. an uterus in context of conversations about abortion) are inherently of the same sex. This type of essentialism is desperately needed by terfs in this discussion, as they're trying to sell the ideas of "sex based oppression" and "sex based privilege" to people they want to recruit in their ideology. Invoking the idea of "sex" as something trans men and some nonbinary people are oppressed through is not the correct way to respond to people who say we don't experience any gendered violence besides "just transphobia", it has shitty implications and helps shitty people.

**** Lack of existence of normative nonbinary gender does not mean that these genders are not recognized by the society as a deviant, marginalized identity, and that binary people cannot be pushed into this zone.

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 06.10 - Boothill ~

Dom!reader x sub!boothill - reader is gender neutral

Warning: a little dark, dubcon, sadistic (?) reader, first time (doing smt sexual), finger sucking, gun play, teasing, dacryphilia, dry orgasm, cumming untouched, hair pulling, use of chemicals, choking, violence, vomiting, kidnapping

~ Word count: 7k ~

Nini!rant: went for a slightly different vibe this time~ how is it?

Kinktober list 2024

“Hah, another fake galaxy ranger? Who’s tryna impersonating us this time?” Boothill lowered his hat to hide his face while he stared at a wanted poster. Still clean, it must be a new commission. At first, he only wanted to check his own bounty, when he noticed another one right next to his.

‘Galaxy ranger […….], wanted, dead or alive, bounty [1.380.000]’

Consider him surprised when he didn’t recognize the name or the face. Him, the one who owns a data bank to support his memories. It could only mean that it’s an imposter. Having a fake ranger’s wanted poster hung right next to his is pretty humiliating, are they looking down on him? “This might be interesting.” The cowboy smirked to himself, yanking off the poster from the wall while he continued his pursuit.

This was going to be a side job, to yearn some cash for his good ol’ alcohol: Asdana’s white oak, about 6% alcohol and fragrant like the fields after rain. A classic among the malts. Pair that with a bullet to match and consider yourself drinking the holy water from the garden of Eve. The bass and gunpowder will bring an exquisite taste only folks with fine tongues can taste. If he had to give a deeper description, the word mellowness would match mighty fine.

Just thinking about the taste raised his spirits. Since he was going to catch you soon and get compensated big, it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate like this once in a while. Don't get him wrong, this isn't indulging, it's enjoying life. Which is why he was standing in front of a bustling bar, his favorite one. The minute he walked in, he felt his mind be at ease, like a ship with smooth sailing. Everything stayed as cozily as he remembered, the same old barkeeper, music, and seats. As if this was his second home, he popped down right next to the counter and put his arm up onto the bar table.

“Boss, here! The usual for me, you know, the lit stuff.” Boothill smirked, his other hand was tapping his knee slowly. “It’s you again, one Asdana without ice?” The man behind the counter seems to remember that very cowboy, as well as his usual order. To that boothill answered, “Of course, I take my Asdana neat.” Then the barkeeper nodded, as if to acknowledge it, commenting, "You are as lively as ever, sir." Before walking off to get the bottle.

Lively? Huh, it's not a word he'd use to describe himself, but it isn't bad. No, not bad at all. In the meantime the cyborg looked around the establishment, seeing many new and old faces that bring back memories. Among those, there was a single shadow that intrigued him. It was the person sitting next to him.

You were there already when he came, sipping away at your drink as your eyes darted around aimlessly. A cocktail of some kind, fading from black to red. If he had to guess, probably hangman’s blood? One of the specialties of this bar, he knows the owner is proud of that drink. It’s pretty strong, you must be good at dealing with alcohol. Maybe you'd be a splendid drinking buddy, he thought to himself, grinning from ear to ear. Meeting new people and making connections never hurts anyone.

Suddenly he moved his chair closer to yours, opening his mouth and attempting to strike up a conversation with you. “Hey, you there, I haven’t seen ya’ around here. This your first time here?” He tried his best to give you a gentle smile, that ended up with him showing off his sharp teeth. For some, he might have appeared threatening even. “...Yeah, it is. I heard that the drinks here are excellent, which is why they have so many regulars.” You stirred around in your glass, mixing the two colors.

“That’s right, you see, I consider myself a regular too.” Boothill chuckled, by the looks of it, he was quite proud of that title. “Oh right, name’s boothill, you can call me that. How ‘bout we drink a lil’ together?” He smirked, it was still a rather awkward smile. Though luckily you didn’t seem to mind. “Boothill huh? I’ve heard that name around, you are notorious for your misdeeds against the IPC.” You turned around to face him, returning his gesture by smiling as well.

At least he thinks you did, since he saw your face twitch. However, he couldn’t see it clearly due to the effects of the lighting. That was why you looked like a shadow from afar. The cyborg scoffed a bit, appearing amused by your words, “misdeeds you say? Cutie, my actions may not be innocent but I only do honest work.” A low chuckle reached his ears, followed by your response to his rather playful comment, “Of course, I understand. You galaxy rangers are brimming with righteousness after all.”

For some reason, your voice was as clear as day, despite the bustling noises emerging from the background. Many people were talking among themselves, so despite you not speaking especially loud, he still heard you perfectly. It was almost as if he filtered the other sounds out for yours only. At first glance, you seemed friendly, kind even. Yet there was this strange feeling surrounding you, he couldn’t get rid of the lingering suspicions. How did you know his occupation? Sure, his name was pretty infamous, though was it normal to know this much?

“…I guess the number on my bounty isn’t just for show.” He joked, before letting out some breathy laughs. Instead of paying attention to his words, you stared at his hand, each finger was out of metal. A artificial arm, or to be precise, a cyborg. Nothing you didn’t know. Suddenly you raised your finger, pointing in his direction. Boothill frowned a little, taken aback by it. “Your drink, it’s coming.” After a moment you explained, and he turned his head around.

Who would have guessed, you were right, the bartender was just putting down the liquor as he chirped, “One Asdana?” Before winking at the male and leaving the two of you alone. “Ah, yeah, that's for me.” The cowboy mumbled, about to take the old-fashioned glass when you stopped him. “Wait a second, I have something for you.” The moment your sentence ended, you began fumbling with your bag, apparently searching for something.

He was a bit irritated but listened to you anyway, taking his hand back. Waiting like this was a tiny bit annoying, but he put up with it. About a minute later, you were holding a shiny object in your hand. Without giving him any warnings, you dropped the said object into his drink. The beverage splashed against the glass due to the impact, only a single drop landed outside before the liquid calmed down.

Now, a bullet was slowly sinking to the bottom of the glass. Its color matched his drink, it had a golden gleam. “Holy forkeroni…” He gasped, this bullet, it was- “9 millimeters caliber, 147 grain, and the bottom's round as a pie. An eternal classical, am I right?” After explaining something obvious to him, you finally showed your face by leaning forward. The lightbulb brightened your features, exposing your identity to the cowboy. A daring move, a risky gamble with cards not everyone would have played. You stared right into his black pupils without a hint of fear, and his response to your boldness was as expected. “This information, you are...!” Immediately, the cyborg grabbed you by your collar and yelled, “Son of a nice lady- you are the one from that wanted poster! The fake galaxy ranger!” He shook his head, then demanded, “Fudge me… don’t fork around and answer, how do you know so much about me?” What a serious tone he had, he must be feeling threatened.

Your eyes darted down to his metallic hand, the same one you were eyeing up and down earlier was now clenching your shirt. Instead of taking him seriously, you were calm and collected, taking one step after another. Seeing you so relaxed, he felt a hint of anger building within him and used more force. It was almost enough to lift you off your seat. Gosh, look how much contempt he suddenly has for you when he was so nice to you mere moments ago.

“Please don’t cause a scene, sir boothill, I was only being nice by catering your drink to your taste. What's the problem?” You cooed at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, playing the naive card. This playful tone of yours reminded him awfully of his own, yet at that moment it annoyed him. “You are dodging my question.” He stressed his words, furrowing his brows and tightening his grip. But he jerked a little when you clasped your hand over his, your touch was warm in comparison to his.

Then you spoke in a calm tone, “Shall we take this outside? There are many watching eyes here. I believe you wouldn’t want to get banned from your favorite bar.” The way you talked suggested you knew much more, a lot more than what he does about you. After all, you knew some private details about his preferences and hobbies. In conclusion, you must have been waiting for him here, at this very bar.

Boothill still hesitated for a moment, before eventually letting go of you. He clicked his tongue as if he regretted your meeting today. In truth, he wasn't in the mood for a fight, despite everything he came here to have fun. Your clothes were now wrinkled and slightly messy, disheveled would also be a fitting term, but you didn’t really bother with straightening them out, rather, you were amused by his hot temper. The boy thought about the situation and the problem he was facing. He couldn't read you at all, what a tough nut to crack.

It would be smart to sort out his thoughts, so first things first, he has to find out how you obtained all this information about him. What was your deal and reason? Then he should think about how to clean up this chaos in case it becomes messy. Even so, startling the other guests wouldn’t be good, that’s why he should contain himself for now. “Fine, lead the way, and don’t try to pull any funny business with me.” He clasped his arms in front of his chest, glaring at you with nothing but contempt. To be honest he looked like a cheeky cat instead of a dangerous lion.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of criminal~” You jest, grinning from ear to ear as you sipped at your cocktail. “Oh yeah? Why do you have quite the sum on your head then.” The cowboy countered your statement, squinting his eyes a little. To think you lost his trust this fast, he was a cautious fellow. “Haha, you hurt me. Don’t you have a bounty on your head as well? If so, why can’t I be righteous too?” He shuddered a little at your words, by the looks of it, you could also be a crazy stalker who invaded his privacy. Heck, he would almost bet on you knowing his head's value in and out.

At this point your voice alone was enough to scratch him the wrong way, you were really testing his patience. Boothill dismissed your statement with a groan, “Don’t compare us, I’m not a motherfudgin' fake ranger like you.” You blinked a few times at his words, before laughing out loud. He didn't like how you reacted. “Ahaha~ yes yes, of course, I’m the bad guy in your story, how did I forget this detail?” You blabbered, and he didn't really understand what you meant.

Then, without giving him any time to process what you said, you sprang up from your seat but made sure to take your cocktail with you. “Come now, cowboy. Take your drink with you, can’t leave that to waste right? Let’s continue drinking outside, like real drinking buddies.” That last sentence, he hasn't asked you yet, that means you guessed by his actions alone. Was it that obvious? It almost felt like you were taunting him or making fun of his previous idea of befriending you.

To save some of his pride, he decided to entertain your little chitchat. “Take it with me? I don’t think I’ll need that long to deal with the likes of you.” He sneered, a cheeky expression was plastered on his face now. You scanned him up and down a few times, then said, “If I can give you one advice: you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Shortly after, you walked out of the store, not giving a damn if he followed you or not. It was because you knew he wouldn’t let you escape so easily, and as you predicted, he followed you to the back of the bar. His footsteps were rather silent for a cyborg, he must not want to involve other guests.

The environment was filthy and dark, as well as out of the sight of innocent civilians. Perfect for an ambush or to have a private talk. You took another sip of your drink and complimented it, “Heavens, have I told you already? This tastes great. Wanna try some?” This sudden courtesy didn't seem fitting at all, considering he already lost all trust he had for you. His eyes pointed to your hand, the hand holding the glass in front of him. Instead of taking it, he clanked his own glass against yours, saying “No need, and cheers. Now that we are drinking, it’s time for you to start talking.” After finishing his speech, he drank his much-anticipated beverage.

This was what he missed, the sweet taste of paradise. No matter how he hated to admit it, the bullet you put in was just the stuff he needed. The faint taste of brass and gunpowder partnered up with the overwhelming sweetness of the malt juice was simply magnificent. “Ehem.. now,” He began, putting the drink onto the staircase next to him. It was the emergency staircase in case of a fire, yet it looked rusty as hell. Still, it won’t crash down because of one measly drink, will it?

This was something he had noticed for a while, somehow, he always found your gaze on his hands. The same applied here when he was putting his malt juice away. Was it worth being careful about? Boothill sighed, before continuing, “Tell me, what is your purpose? You were looking for me, weren’t ya?” Straight to the point, as expected of an ill-mannered cowboy like him, but you didn’t dislike it. “If I told you, this won’t be fun anymore. The villain always shares their plan when the hero is subdued.” You gurgled down the last bits of your ‘hangman’s blood’, then put the glass on the ground, unlike him. Would you look at that, who has no manners now?

Afterward, you walked up to the man, and his response to it was taking a few steps back. It wasn’t until his back hit the wall that the two of you stopped in your tracks. “Shirtbag… do you want to imitate a cartoon villain that bad?” He scoffed, crossing his arms once again. “Hehe, maybe.” You smiled at him providing him with a vague answer. Fork it, he was definitely going to wipe that insolent grin of yours from your face. “Anyway, before things escalate and you hit me, how about a quick introduction? My name is y/n.” The ranger didn’t look happy at all at your suggestion, and so he snapped, “I know, I saw on the poster. Can you stop wasting my free time now?”

“Whoa, easy there. And hey! Don’t pull your gun out!” You said and raised your hands as if to testify to your cooperation, then spouted “Well, I don’t know what information I own that could possibly satisfy you.” Now you were really wasting his time, chatting with no end in sight. Obviously, you were playing dumb with him. This caused Boothill to shout almost angrily, “Just tell me what business you have with me, fudgehead!” His rather funny way of talking didn't shock you, which means this was another piece of information you had access to beforehand. Who was feeding you with all that info?

He reached out for your collar again, but to his surprise, he couldn't move his arm anymore. “What the fork?!” His eyes turned to look up at you, his soft lips were parted due to disbelief. “Thankfully it worked~ otherwise I’d be cheese by now!” You joked, taking another step forwards him. “Holy wubabboo- is this your doing?” A confused expression spread on your face and you questioned, “Did what?” What the- what was happening, he couldn't comprehend this darned situation.

“How did you pull this off-? UrGhh!!” Out of nowhere, he dropped down to his knees, hovering and kneeling on the ground while sweating furiously. There was no strength left in his legs, or he lost control of his limbs somehow. On the outside he looked like a robot out of power, arms dangling next to him all lifeless. “Fudge! Tell me! What did you do?!” This has to be your doing, the timing is too perfect. You scanned his body again, smirking to yourself. "I had to prepare a lot for this, you know."

His ears perked at your confession, were you finally getting bored of that clueless act? Your face was barely visible since the alley wasn’t very bright, there was only one dimly lit street lamp around the corner. “You were easier to catch than I thought.” You then uttered. What the hell is this! That was supposed to be his line, so how did things end up this way? He is a motherfudging cyborg, what could you have possibly done to him?

The word confusion was basically written all over his face, he couldn’t even curse at you because he was so baffled, so perplexed about basically everything. Then, you raised your foot and stepped down on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side just to be faced with your shoe, the soles dirtied his cropped jacket.

“Get off me, you son of a nice fugin' lady.” Boothill gritted his teeth, trying to push you away. But the word in capital letter and underlined was 'trying', since he couldn’t move at all. He felt as helpless as the day he lost his home, unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines. “I like that feisty look in your eyes, cowboy.” You teased, those stinging words hurting his ego. Suddenly you leaned down, all so you could meet his gaze more easily.

Your hands reached for the glass of malt juice standing on the staircase and held it above his face. It shone in a golden light, almost akin to a disco ball. His eyes were glued to that glass, partly because he wondered what you planned to do. “Here, as I said before, this shouldn’t go to waste.” You told him and grabbed his chin. It happened so suddenly that he couldn’t react to it, not like he could have done anything in self-defense anyway. “Ugh, let go you mother- fuuHHMM!!”

When he opened his mouth to curse and to let out a shocked yelp, you forcefully poured the drink down his throat. It streamed down his oesophagus. You had to admit, he had good reflexes for reacting to this so quickly. Some of the liquid landed on his lips or cheeks, but he drank most of the juice. You watched the remains that weren't swallowed drip down his chin, soiling his clothes further and creating a darker spot on the fabric. It also covered his metallic chest in a golden shine, one could easily confuse it with oil.

The cyborg closed his eyes to avoid the liquor getting in places it shouldn’t, he choked a little since you were pouring so fast he couldn’t keep up with the swallowing. This didn’t stop until the glass was empty, even the bullet you gifted him earlier ended up in his mouth. He let it rest on his tongue for a while, before gulping it down as well. “Mmmh, guhh- cough cough!”

Boothill gasped, the bullet didn’t roll in as easily as the malt juice, it remained stuck in his throat. He had to cough a few times for it to slide down, after that he instantly complained, “Fu-fudge... why did you do that? I wanted to enjoy my drink slowly!” But he stopped mid-track when your familiar laugh echoed in his ears, and your fingertips stroked his chin. Shivers ran down his spine at your touch, he didn't know why.

“Dear ranger~ did your mommy not teach you not to take things from a stranger?” His eyes twitched and widened, you couldn’t really grasp the expression he pulled, though he looked devastated. It seems a light switch clicked inside his thick skull. Did you mess with his drink? Boothill just couldn't keep calm anymore at the realization, glaring at you with a nasty attitude. “Oh my, did I hit a sore spot there? You look like you want to kill me.” Yet his threatening, imposing body language didn’t scare you off, which is why you continued ridiculing him.

“I’ll ask you a last time, what the fork did you do to me?" Despite all these misfortunes, he didn't give up his insolent side, he was planning on giving you a hard time until the very end. Boothill was showing his sharp teeth once again, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “Are you familiar with Sulfuric acid?” You uttered, tapping his lips with your thumb. That word was foreign to him, was it something he would know? He wanted to bite down on his bottom lip, but you stopped him. This feeling, it was latex, you were wearing gloves.

“You see, it’s potent enough to melt metal.” The expression that followed after you enlightened him of its importance was simply amazing, you were curious about what he felt in that moment. Shock? Anger? Frustration? Maybe even self-hatred? “Then, how did you-” “Hey, I wasn’t done talking. Anyway, to answer your question, I hid it inside the bullet. Then I just had to wait for it to melt through the brass and voila, need me to say more?” What a talent you have for spouting such horrendous things with an innocent tone.

“Everything’s going according to your plan, huh, explaining everything when the hero’s subdued.” He repeated your words, then coughed again because his throat was burning. Actually, it hurt and itched. His face also felt like it was on fire, or to be precise, his skin did. It was so painful he had to clench his teeth to suppress the pain. You laughed under your breath, laughing at him, mocking him. “Right, if it’s potent enough to inflict wounds on a cyborg, then of course it irritates the skin as well.” Well, that should explain why his skin was hurting. “Now, boothill, may I give you another advice?”

Your hand caressed his cheeks as you asked him that, face only millimetres away from his. The way you touched him was surprisingly gentle, it made him sick. “What do you want.” He scorned, shaking his head to brush off your hand. “I’m sure you have extra protection around the more important components inside your system, though you should still get rid of the acid.” You looked unfazed when he avoided your touch, instead you closed the already nonexistent distance between you two and whispered into his ear.

The male looked mad, really damn angry. He yelled into your face, “Well fudge me I guess?! I can’t forking move my body!” That caught you off guard, you blinked a few times at his aggressive behavior. Don't get you wrong, it's not that you didn’t understand his point of view. On the contrary, it's good to see him still so energetic. “Ah~ my bad, I didn’t think the acid would break your control Center first. Why is it located right next to your stomach anyway?” You admitted, scratching your head a little.

This was so easy that it was almost boring, you expected him to put up more of a fight. But you can't blame him when he's basically a cripple right now. “In other words, I’m fudged? Fork this, dying so dishonorable tsk tsk.” Boothill snarled, rolling his eyes, he didn’t consider himself a living man before, but now he was dead-dead if you knew what he meant.

You glanced at his face, he was sweating and his complexion didn’t look all that good. He acted as if he didn't mind it, but he was hanging onto life so dearly it almost moved you. In the end, you proposed in a tender tone, “Want me to help you?” The ranger was still glaring at you, though his gaze bore more skeptic than fury. “You caused this first- fine, I don’t have any choice but to accept do I?”

No matter how he despised you, he can't carry out revenge when he's dead. It's not that he trusted you to 'save' him, but rather, this is his last resort. As soon as he finished his sentence, you yanked on his chin to make him look up at you. The tips of his hair were wet due to the alcohol, and his skin also reddened due to the acid. Your thumb pressed on his bottom lip, almost pulling at it. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks at the intimate touch. Adorable.

When he parted his lips a little, you took that opportunity to stuff your index and middle finger into his mouth. “What- Mhm..!?” The male groaned, finding himself in a pretty bizarre situation. God how embarrassing, he was falling into a shameful abyss he couldn't crawl out anymore. Truth be told, he had a pretty accurate guess on what you wanted to do, though he really didn’t want to actually carry it out. Was this the only way?

You stuck your digits deeper inside, already at the second knuckle, causing him to flinch and twitch. His eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed while a growing blush covered his features. Damn it, this is worse than any nightmares, this feels the worst. So what was this bubbling and tingly sensation he felt? It was messing with him, causing him to shudder. He could feel your fingers pressing down on his tongue, as well as you trying to not cut yourself on his teeth. This was weird, it was so strange, why was he getting lightheaded?

“Don’t act so surprised now, I’m helping you as you wanted.” After watching his helpless face for a while, you commented on it, obviously not planning on stopping the teasing anytime soon. It seems you caught on to the growing tension between the two of you, so you chuckled, “Hey... what’s this I'm seeing? Why is your face getting red?” His once half-lidded eyes were yanked wide open at the thought that he got exposed.

Don't tell him he was enjoying this perverted act. “Hmm! Sho-shou ap..!” Boothill tried to speak despite the difficulties, feeling your digits reaching deeper and deeper. With each poke, the tingly feeling also increased. Was this perhaps what they called sexual pleasure? If so, why did he have to experience it for the first time at your hands?

A few seconds later, you were knuckles-deep inside him, fingertips already rubbing the walls of his throat. It was wet and hot in his mouth, and his face seemed to be gradually heating as well. That process was speeding up quite rapidly. His cheeks quickly turned red, a foggy blush tainting the skin. He was blushing so much just from sucking on your fingers a little? You simply couldn’t miss out on ridiculing him yet again, purring into his ear once more, “Does this turn you on? How cute.”

His pupils shrank at your comment, probably at the disbelief that you’d say something this audacious. Him? Turned on by you? What a joke- this can’t be real. He was just having a hard time breathing, and that’s why he was getting red. Really. Though deep down, he knew he couldn't sugarcoat it, the truth will always be the truth, no matter how he denies its existence. “MhMm, guhNn, hmm-nggHh..!” The cowboy tried to argue with you, though his protests were muffled by you, only inaudible noises could be made out.

There were also sneaky moans mixed among his protests or little gasps. The vibrations of his voice tickled your skin, it felt pretty funny actually. “What was that? I can't understand you~” You admitted cheerfully, watching the emotion on his face rotate from shock, and anger to frustration. What a shameless person you were, and not to forget heartless.

Then you pressed down on his wet muscle once again, and he gagged around you. “Ughhh..!” That one single gag soon turned into a series of chokes, and tears began collecting in his eye sockets. So he still had his gag reflex, excellent, it was exactly what you needed. More coughs and chokes continuously spilled from the male while you mercilessly ravished his throat.

He could feel you poking his throat so deep it almost hurt, yet that wasn't the only thing he felt. No. Far from it, his body was burning up from the inside, though it was a different kind of heat than the effects of the acid. His mind felt so foggy and weakened, was it alright for him to let his guard down in times like this? When he still hasn't discovered your purpose? But he couldn't hang on anymore, it was as if his brain was melting. Never ever was it this challenging for him to hang on to his reason and logic, to what makes him human.

"Dahmmmm it..! S-stouu! GuhHGG..!!" He choked again, but this time, it felt like something was coming out... no, it was- "hmHHh, fooouukk!! Ugh-guUH!" This familiar sensation and taste, he couldn't move his tongue but he could still taste it faintly. Not to mention the burdensome smell, this familiar smell that stayed around his nostrils. The Asdana he just gurgled down was coming up again, he was on the verge of vomiting. It was as if his body rejected the drink, and he couldn't stop gagging.

At least his insides won't get messed up any longer, that must be the only positive thing in all this. Even so, to do something that shameful in front of you, damn it, he wants to spit at you if he could. You noticed how his throat tightened, or how his Adam's apple moved around. With that, you took your fingers out as fast as how you stuck them inside him. Strings of saliva connected your fingertips with his mouth, and his tongue hung outside for a while. "Ugh, fu-gUhg, UhmM!!"

Right afterward, he puked on the ground, head hanging low while more gaging sounds left him. His pupils shrunk as the contents spilled onto the filthy ground. Those embarrassing noises didn't cease until he choked up the bullet he had previously swallowed. Then, he whimpered at the taste, it had become sour now due to the chemical. "There you go, you should be fixed now." You reported, but he couldn't bring himself to be joyful about it.

Rather, he was sweating furiously, eyes widened and almost dried up. If he could cry, he definitely would have. Oh how thankful he was in that moment that he physically couldn't sob. He wouldn't have been able to live with the shame of breaking down in tears and weeping in front of you. "Uhhhhg, da-mHnn it... fu-uGGhh!!" The taste of the alcohol wasn't as pleasant as before, probably due to it getting corrupted by the acid you mentioned. Such a waste, and to think it landed on the floor now. A place like that wasn't worth a drink this exquisite.

His eyelids and brows twitched, and now that he was done, he clenched his teeth again and insulted you, "You muddlefudger..." That rebellious look in his gaze didn't vanish, he glared at you once more. You were almost impressed if you didn't notice a small glimmer of falter within his tough facade. Despite it being a normal bodily reaction, he seems to be holding it against you. "And here I thought I helped you out, how ungrateful." You clicked your tongue, and his face became redder. Was it because of the humiliation or anger?

Your shoe was still on his shoulder, pressing down on him, reminding him of his vulnerable position. The Cowboy snapped at you, spitting through gritted teeth, "What do ya' got planned now?" You took off your gloves, they were covered in his saliva. Then you revealed, "I'm not sure." He only got more annoyed by that nonchalant answer and demanded, "If you're going to kill me make it quick." Weirdly enough, your eyes glimmered, as if you were inspired by his suggestion. "If that's what you want, I don't mind it." You smirked, patting his head, stroking his long hair as your other hand sneakily pulled out the gun around his waist.

He almost lost himself in that small gesture of comfort you gave him, if it wasn't for him seeing you with his gun in your hand. "Hah.. with my own weapon? Fudge, you want to humiliate me to the end huh." How resentful he sounded, you almost pitied this guy. "Maybe I do." After saying that irritatingly proud, you pressed his revolver against his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side. "But this is a little boring, don't you think?"

As if you were truly interested in his opinion, he found it quite difficult to believe that. "Why do you ask me?" Boothill gnarled, but to his surprise, you moved the revolver away. Instead, the barrel was pressed flat against his chest, the muzzle facing his chin. "What are you..?" The male mumbled, twisting his expression at this damned play you organized for him. For you, all this must be a game, a stage you laid out for him, where he was a mindless puppet playing right into your hand.

He thought he couldn't be surprised anymore, yet your actions kept going beyond anything he could ever imagine. You moved the revolver upwards so that the muzzle was touching the underside of his chin. At the same time, the gun was going underneath his short jacket. "Y-you..!" The cyborg couldn't help but blush a little. His face was hot, overheating even compared to the cold weapon you held in your hands. "Do you still want to die? If you beg, I might spar you?" Your tone didn't sound that serious, it was almost said in a joking manner.

“Fork you, never." Boothill snarled again, acting disobedient even though his life was at stake. He had a strong spirit since he was still so cocky after all the things he went through. You wiped off the smile from your face, now staring down at him with a cold-blooded expression, "I'll count down from three then. Three..." Wha- no, this can't be the end, he still has to find Oswaldo. His artificial heart pounded against his chest, causing his mind to fall into chaos. "Two."

You were so cruel, counting down like this without remorse, a fudging monster! Adrenaline was being pumped through his body, or should he rather say every wire he owned? "One-" Without thinking, since he lost that privilege the moment you began counting, he yelled as fast as he could and closed his eyes, "Fudge! Fine! If m'gonna die lemme at least curse at you! You- er, muddlefudging clocksucker!!" Right now, he kind of wished he could cry, just to let out some steam. You couldn't help but giggle, before uttering the word, "Zero." Suddenly, he blanked out.

For a split second, time appeared to have stopped. What followed after was a loud, ear-splitting sound that echoed through the alley. To be expected, it definitely alarmed other people. Then, absolute silence emerged. Not even the faint music from the bar could be heard anymore. "Ah... hu-huh..?" "Oh? Seems like your gun wasn't loaded!" You giggled, you knew this from the start, didn't you? Pants along with a few choked-out whines escaped him. Shivers traveled through him and electricity was being sent to his brain, stimulating the euphoric parts.

A moment later, a slap sound reached his ears, and a sting that felt strangely pleasant originated from his cheek. His face turned to the side, and his cheek throbbed. "uh-urghh..! Ah, wha-what?" Did you just... slap him? Boothill groaned, shaking a little as drool rolled down his chin because his mouth remained open for too long. His spit also defiled the gun, wetting the revolver. Then, the unimaginable happened, and he let out an unrestrained moan, "ahhhHHHNngg..!?" It was high-pitched and whorish, he wore such a confused but slutty expression that it surprised both of you.

Reality crushed down on him too hard, and he couldn't help but gasp and whimper underneath his ragged inhales. "Ugh..ngh- wha-what's this fe-feeling..? W-why.. ha-hmnHg..♡♥︎?" Oh dear, this is not what you think just happened, right? "Boothill, did you just cum?" You said his name after a long while, and he groaned again, "guHhh... s-stop, that's nonsense! How can I e-even.. I-" The boy stumbled over his words, stuttering as a deep blush was painted over his entire face. He was such a twitchy mess now, totally different than his previous self.

“Are you a masochist?” You asked him randomly, it was so out of pocket that it killed the mood. "...are you crazy?" Boothill replied with scorn, his pride was pretty hurt by that statement. As if to test your speculation, you grabbed the back of his hair and yanked on it, making him yelp. "Arghh..! L-let go- fudge!" Then you squeezed his cheeks and stuck out your tongue. He stared at you hesitantly, his own tongue also hanging outside. Mere moments later, your spit was dripping down and landing in his mouth.

That action rendered him speechless, causing him to freeze. Your saliva tasted a little like alcohol. Darn it, this was so disgusting. Once you were done, you let go of the cowboy again, before teasing him, "I was right, you are a masochistic dog~" You knew because of his flushed cheeks, they became redder at your lewd antics. "Are you satisfied now? The fork do you want from me?!" Boothill scoffed, he could only bear this much until his breaking point. "What do I want?" You repeated his sentence, and put a finger on your chin as if you were thinking hard about something.

In the meantime, boothill impatiently waited, he desperately wanted to know your intentions, to see if it justified your actions. When you moved your finger away, you grinned before responding, "I think the answer is you." "...huh?" The cyborg was stunned, staring up at you with spirals in his pupils as you suddenly embraced him. "You heard me, boothill." Your voice and your hug were so warm, he didn't know you could be this gentle.

No, this was no good, it was troubling, to say the least. "Y/n? You- shirt, what do you mean?" For the first time, you heard your name come out of his mouth. His voice trembled as he voiced out your name, the way he said it had a nice ring to it. Then he glared at you once again, but this time he looked like a small animal, eyes glistening while a heavy blush formed on his face. Wait, why was he even blushing? Maybe, because he was wanted for the first time after centuries?

"I hate you." He said after returning to his senses, he got caught up in his emotions there for a moment. These little bits of comfort aren't enough to make up for the mess you caused, and he didn't feel the same. On the other hand, you couldn't stop smirking, and he knew by the looks of it that it wasn't an innocent smile by length. "Let's get out of here, I'll help you move." You then told him and helped him get up, pulling him by his arms.

This was immediately met with angry protests from the male, "Don't touch me- hey, ugh! Where the fudge are you taking me?" The second he let his guard down, you stuffed your gloves into his mouth to muffle his voice, "hMHh?! MmhhGFFF!!!" After that, to satisfy his curiosity, you whispered quietly, "To a place where I can have you."

.

.

"Finally, the guards are here." One of the guests said, to which another one answered, "Thank god because no one dared to go see what was going on." Maybe people we in disarray due to the mysterious sound they all heard. It was probably a gunshot, which means, someone might have died. Yet no one dared to go into the alley, out of fear that they might be the next victim. After the guards arrived, a rather large group of people followed them and ran over to the scene.

They all wanted to know what that gunshot was, standing on the sidelines and observing the investigation. 'What the hell happened here?!' Everyone wondered, eyes searching around for evidence. The only hints they found were two glasses standing on the staircase with some credits, as well as a pool of what seems to be malt juice lying on the ground along with a single golden bullet in the midst of it.

The guard in charge of this operation reached out for the bullet and said, "...someone must have been shot." Then he eyed the bullet up and down, in hopes of finding more clues. That's when he noticed a weird detail, "Why are there holes in the bullet?"

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Based on my findings, concentrated sulfuric acid can melt many metals, like aluminium, iron and steel. (Boothill isn’t safe hehe) It’s enough if it’s moderately concentrated, so it’s alright if a bit of water mixes into it as well. It also reacts to brass - the copper aspect of it, I dunno if it reacts to zink as well. Some sources say yes, some denied it.

Anyway, the Formular for the melting process or chemical reaction would be: Cu + h2So4 -> CuSo4 + h2 or Fe + h2So4 -> FeSo4 h2

So it also creates hydrogen gas at the same time, which also melts iron and is poison for the human body. Annnnd copper Sulfid, which is weak and easily breakable, that means it can weaken the brass.

My plan to poison him: his favourite drink is malt juice with a 9mm calliber bullet that’s out of brass. And malt juice is out of ca. 25-30% water. So, I was thinking of drilling a hole into the bottom of the bullet and use a needle to shoot concentrated sulfuric acid inside the capsule. Then drop that in the malt juice. Now we just gotta wait for the acid to melt through the bullet, and mix with the water of the alcohol, then it’d become moderately concentrated. Btw sulfuric acid can absorb water from everywhere, even from the air.

Then if he drinks it, bam, his insides will melt. It might take a bit, so we gotta entertain him and stretch out the time. Even if he doesn’t drink it, he eats bullets, so he’ll get the acid inside his body anyway. With that, we successfully ‘poisoned’ him. It takes a bit of fantasy but oh well.

Now, take this hangman’s blood recipe:

- 1¾ parts gin.

- 1¾ parts white rum.

- 1¾ parts whiskey.

- 1¾ parts brandy.

- 7½ parts stout beer.

- 6 parts champagne.