#but one remained a hero and recognized the path he could have walked

[drizztdonturden]

Wyll's Act 3 questline could have involved political scheming to threaten Gortash's hold on the city--instead of having Gortash just sit around twiddling his thumbs, his version of the Sarevok quest could have been to take out his political allies. It was right there. It would have given Wyll more involvement in Act 3, it would have made Gortash feel less lazy, and with the removal of the Upper City, they placed Lady Jannath in the Lower City anyway, where she's in the middle of a party. We were so close to having something like that.

everyone talks abt wanting an undercover high society/party mission in bg3... that should've been part of Wyll's questlines.

[nebbyy]

Hi! Could you please do a part two to the lester/apollo x reader fic you posted?

Apollo x reader - Eternal Bonds

A/N: thank you so much for your request, anon! Sorry if this took a bit more than the time I usually take to write my fics, but as I said the past weeks have been really tiring for me🥹 

Anyway, I hope you like this fic, I personally like it better than the first part, but as always let me know your thoughts on it<3

Aaaand as always, painting is "Springtime" by Pierre Auguste Cot for anyone interested!

Summary: Having regained his immortality and prestige, all that remained for Apollo was to stabilise something in his life was one thing: you. It might sound easy, but he honestly would disagree.

Warning: it is implied that Athena has a great admiration for reader, but they’re not their child. This reconnects with my own personal thoughts on how Athena’s cabin should work, so the goddess’ relationship with reader in this fic should be seen as the same as hers and Odysseus’ (if you want further explanations on what their dynamic was let me know:))) Also I must say, I haven’t read any of the trials of Apollo books in ages so I took it as an occasion to interpret Apollo’s return to Olympus how I see it more fit to this little scenario of mine.

And lastly, not a warning but this fic starts just a bit before the end of the first part, if anyone was wondering:)

Word count: 3813 (longest fic yet omgg)

Apollo stood there, standing on the elevator that would take him home. How strange, he had dreamed of this moment for months, eager to return to his home and be welcomed as a glorious hero, with restored dignity, free of the mortal shell in which he had been confined all this time. He had imagined himself proud, tall and triumphant as he entered the gates of Olympus.

Yet as he stood on his way home, he could not prevent the continuous movement of his foot against the elevator floor. There was no trace in him of the security typical of a hero, in him at that time reigned only the same anxiety and nervousness that had characterized his mortal form. First it was Apollo inside Lester’s body, now Apollo had his body back, but Lester was inside of him. That Lester had become an integral part of him? Or maybe it didn’t add up, maybe it was always there, unable to make its voice heard under the omnipresent spirit of Apollo.

Okay, maybe he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it when he felt like his nerves were about to make him explode!

The point was, he wasn’t just going home, he was going to convince his father, the king of the gods, the exact same person who kicked him out of Olympus, to make the love of his life immortal so that he could stay by his side for eternity. It was not a situation in which one could easily remain connected to reality.

Finally, the elevator slowed down its run, until it stopped completely and opened its doors with a characteristic "ding".

Slowly, one step at a time, Apollo stepped out of the elevator and advanced to the throne room, walking up the path that would take him directly there. His performance had an air of regal composure, but it was nothing more than a method of masking his tense nerves. He walked until he reached the first areas inhabited by the Olympians and some other immortal creature.

"Apollo? I didn’t know you were already back. We thought it would take you millennia to make it up to Zeus!!" He hadn’t heard it in a while, but there was no way he could ever forget the sound of Nike’s voice. The winged goddess came to meet him flying curiously, also attracting the attention of the entities that had not paid attention to the scene so far.

Some approached, recognizing the face of the beloved god, while others ran to announce his return to the major gods. First came Hestia, who with that loving family attitude, embraced him gently. "Oh Apollo, you were so good! I never doubted you could do it." 

"I can’t say that with as much confidence, but I must congratulate you, Apollo, you have exceeded all my expectations." It was the authoritarian voice of Athena who spoke, who wore a smile on her face, a more unique than rare event. Apollo was so surprised by this unusual compliment from her that he hardly paid any attention to her questioning his chances of success.

For a moment he felt his eyes almost come out of his skull when a large hand was planted on his shoulder to pat him. " Well done, little brother, aren’t you as soft as you look, eh?" Massaging his shoulder, Apollo smiled faintly at the mountain that was his half-brother. "Thanks, Ares, it means a lot I guess..."

He was about to receive the coup de grâce, if it were not for Aphrodite, unconscious of her intervention, she had put herself right in the middle, affectionately placing one hand on Apollo’s shoulder while the other not very secretly found place in that of Ares, to the delight of Hephaestus who observed snorting away from the scene, but thumbs up at the sun god to express his joy.

He didn’t know how long this lasted, or exactly how many gods surrounded him at that point, but when Nike was about to hold a banquet in his honor he couldn’t control his reaction: "No wait!" His tone sounded so panicked that he caught everyone unawares. For a moment the gods almost had the sensation of speaking a mortal, so much his voice had squeaked in the air. Realizing that he had drawn even more attention to you, as if it were even possible in that situation, he gently shrugged his shoulders, to mitigate the gaze of the Olympians his nerves more tense than ever.

"Um I-" he made a false cough to try to regain his posture before starting to speak again, illuminating his companions with a dazzling smile, "sorry, mortal’s pollen, am I right? Anyway, much as I would be... ecstatic to attend a banquet, I’m afraid I must first have a discussion with Zeus about some... matters of utmost urgency! If you’ll excuse me, now.”

With little pomp, he made his way through the crowd stunned at his unusual behavior. "Poor thing, the Earth has changed him." Someone shook their head resigned, someone else did not even notice his abrupt exit, simply saying goodbye and congratulating him as he got smaller and smaller in the distance. The attention to him lasted just before each god went for their merry way. After all, when you have a whole eternity to live, there are few things left for you for a long time.

Everyone resumed doing what they were doing before Apollo’s return, all except Athena. It was in her nature to predict the rival’s moves- or rather, the moves of anyone around her. She may not have been born with the ability to see the future, but her intellect allowed her to come to conclusions almost as apt as an oracle. Silent as night, he followed the solar god, whose aura seemed to be clouded by some heavy burden.

The closer he got to the heavy bronze doors of the throne room, the lighter his head felt, as if his brain had gone numb. He was mathematically certain that he had NEVER felt so nervous in his entire existence. Not even his many figures in human form could compare to how he was feeling at the time. But it’s not like he could back out now, not after all the way he’s come, not after promising you not to leave your side. Not now, that had arrived in front of the doors.

He didn’t even have to knock, or announce his own name. No use, Zeus was waiting for him. Apollo took a breath, pumping his chest to emulate some sense of confidence before making his way into the vast hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked around and looked at the empty thrones, each with small inlays reminiscent of its owner. He passed by his own throne, and a sense of longing pervaded him to the thought that in no time he would have sat there again. Maybe you could convince Zeus to put a similar throne for you next to his own..

No, stay focused, Apollo, first of all he had to convince Zeus to make them immortal in the first place.

Without even realizing it, he was so taken by his own thoughts, he had reached the end of the room, finding himself a few feet from the king of Olympus. Now he could not afford to show himself weak, fearful. Come on, it had to come easy for him, he was also the god of the theater after all! As if a thread pulled him from above, he felt himself erect tall and proud, his chest out, his muscular back straight; a slight halo of light surrounded him, reconferendogli a little of that shine that has always distinguished him from the rest of the gods. He smiled at his father before bowing down gracefully. "It’s good to see you again, Father."

“Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” Okay, even if he had second thoughts, it was DEFINITELY too late to back out. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation, Apollo no longer felt the same anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the climb to Olympus. He felt powerful, confident in his words, in his actions, but above all confident in you. He knew that if ever there was a mortal worthy of immortality, it was most certainly you. He looked up at his father, this time his smile had become less dazzling, almost a little nervous.

“Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

Total silence fell in the room. The expression of Zeus was intelligible, and not being able to read the true emotions of Apollo, moreover in such a silent environment did not help to calm his nervousness. Zeus slowly blinked, covering his icy eyes for a moment before opening them again as he breathed in just as slowly. " Few mortals have earned the gift of immortality throughout history. He must deserve that honor with out-of-the-ordinary feats," he paused, as if to reflect, then resumed speaking, in a neutral but glacial and authoritative tone, "this is not impossible, but I count on one bare hand how many times a mortal has been added to the abode of the immortals over the millennia."

"I am aware of this, Father, and that is precisely why I believe that the person I speak of is the most deserving of this honor." Zeus did not answer. Not immediately, at least. He seemed confused and intrigued at the same time, as if he had not expected such a response. " My son, what do you mean by that?" Apollo could not avoid the smile that spread on his face having an opportunity to talk about your countless qualities, which in his eyes were endless. It was one of his favorite activities even when he was mortal, actually.

"You see father, they are a demigod of qualities worthy only of an immortal god. They are strong and wise, although they are still at a young age. They fear nothing but the limits imposed by Olympus, which they have served since the day they set foot inside Camp Half-Blood."He took a little dramatic pause, perhaps expecting to be interrupted by the divine father, but he gave no sign of wanting to intervene in words; he preferred to remain silent, peering at his son while he justified his reasons for satisfying his will.

"And they are beautiful, Father. They shine with a beauty far beyond that of an ordinary mortal. Even on the battlefield, soiled with blood and filth of all kinds, their beauty always resembled that of Aphrodite and Eros and all the gods of all the Pantheons of this world who possess the gift of supreme beauty." To this the father could not suppress a snort of derision, not trusting the words of the son in fact of beauty, "If I remember well such words were spoken by you also for Hyacinth, and before him Daphne, and before her still such a long series of river nymphs and mortal beings that I lost count."

Apollo lowered his head in resignation, sighing gently before looking up to speak again, "I realize this, Father, but I mention their beauty only because it would be a crime against all that is right to omit. However, it remains only one of the many qualities that characterize them, which none of my past lovers can say. But that is not the greatest reason why I consider them worthy of immortality."

"Speak openly then, you know I don’t like to wait." The blond-haired god nodded and took another step towards the king of the gods, his eyes even brighter than before, inflamed by his longing desire to obtain what he most desired in his entire existence. You, at his side. Forever.

"You see, they have done a great service to the goddess of wisdom and the manual arts. They have done the will of Athena and have done such glorious deeds that they have increased her honor. I myself was able to attend only some of their quests, but I assure you that they were so great as to justify the support and blessing of a goddess so hardly affable." To these words, Zeus seemed completely incredulous. In Olympus it was well known that Athena was the beloved daughter of the king of the gods, who always kept her close to him and always made all her will an uncompromising law. It seemed impossible to him that any mortal had been able to win the favor of the goddess, and he strongly doubted the veracity of Apollo’s claim.

The young god opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind him, "As much as the idea of supporting Apollo’s petty whims, this time I must agree with him." Athena had followed Apollo to the throne room, suspicious of his strange behavior. He had to be honest, Apollo literally had no idea what to say at that moment; he did not expect to get to that point with his interview and certainly did not expect Athena’s support in his intent. But this was a real blessing, for she herself could bear witness to your worth.

She only gave him a scowling look, like a silent admonition to avoid yelling at him, pick up your mouth from the ground and be a god, genius! But his silver eyes were enough to relay the message, and after a moment Apollo had returned to his usual divine bearing. She blinked slowly before turning her eyes again to Zeus.

"Y/N Y/L is a demigod of undeniable quality, which also left me pleasantly surprised. It is true, they have diligently served Olympus and have especially served me, and I have let them fight in my name precisely because their wit deserved such honor. If only it were possible, I would claim them as my own child, for only twice in my existence have I met two mortal men of equal virtue, and those mortals were the king of Ithaca and your son Hercules, to whom you rightly granted immortality.

You know that I do not speak in vain when I express my opinion, and that is why I consider them worthy to also obtain the gift of immortality, especially when to these incredibly successful quests are added the love of a god and the admiration of another." 

Now Zeus observed the two with two comically wide eyes, mostly due to the unexpected intervention of Athena. Even Apollo could not hide his amazement from that sudden help, but he certainly did not complain at all. Three beats passed, then Zeus cleared his voice and I speak in a more serene tone than before, though still authoritarian, "Very well, if you yourself, Athena, consider this mortal worthy of so many honors I want to believe you. Your lover will be granted immortality, Apollo. This will happen at sundown, when you bring your chariot back here to Olympus. Lead them with you, and they can live forever here with you."

"Yes!!" Apollo threw a fist in the air for joy, a small habit he had taken in his stay on earth, but soon after he realized that perhaps it was not quite the right place to give free rein to his happiness, judging by the unimpressed face of Zeus, "Um, I apologize. I thank you father, for this wonderful gift. I assure you that you will not regret it!" He slowly stepped back as he spoke to him with the biggest smile on his face, extending his arms and bending his knees in a farewell bow. Zeus, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, smiled at Apollo and nodded slightly.

"Enjoy this concession of mine, my son, and may it remain in your mind as your reward for having demonstrated your qualities, even without the intervention of your divinity."

"I’ll never forget it. They’ll never let me!" With some other ceremonious thanksgiving, which they had little given the haste and irrepressible joy of the sun god, Apollo rushed down to Olympus, hastening as much as possible to reach his beloved in the place where they had met. He looked at a clock to see how much time he had left. 7 P.M., he still had some time left. He ran like a madman, until he saw the entrance of the familiar Campo approaching. He ignored everyone around him, his perplexed children, his disappointed fangirls, his friends not too surprised to see him running like a bullet through the field, with the biggest smile they’d ever seen on him. Only Meg had a vague feeling about what exactly happened, but even if she did, she didn’t say anything and just looked at him smiling before going back to her things.

Apollo entered the forest next to the Camp and continued to run. Lucky he was back in his cool form, if he was still Lester would have collapsed out of breath for half an hour. And then finally, he finally arrived at your rendezvous point. She found you there, gently lying on moss, slumbering from the weariness of the activities at the Camp and from the worries you had freed yourself of the previous day, in that exact same place, when you had finally found your beloved. Apollo was quivering, thinking how you would react to the awakening, among the golden blankets of his heavenly palace. What would you have said seeing your body invigorated and illuminated by immortality. What would you have felt seeing that his declarations of eternal love were not fallacious, but promises that he had dedicated himself body and soul to keep.

He gently picked you up, taking care not to wake you. He invoked his golden chariot and rode with you to your new home. He kept you close, as much as he was physically allowed by the confined space. The journey did not last long, being facilitated by the godly transport; once arrived right in front of the golden gates of the Apollonian abode, he took you back in his bridal style, leading you to his- your bed. You were stretched out just as he saw your skin begin to shimmer gently, its color gradually became richer and filled with eternally vital sap. He stood by your side, filling your neck and shoulders with kisses as he crouched behind you, eagerly awaiting your rebirth as a deity.

In the morning you woke up with a strong light that dazzled you. You thought it was Apollo, who since he had returned to his true form had regained all the lustre of his nature. But no, it wasn’t him; it was you, whose skin emanated a faint light that bounced against the various gold inlays that were in the bedroom. Yeah, you didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, the last thing you remembered was lying in the forest moss while you waited for Apollo. Wait a minute, this isn’t even a room in Camp Half-Blood! 

You did it to snap up to the alert, but then you stopped when you felt the familiar touch of Apollo caressing your shoulder, sliding towards the back of your neck and passing through your hair, which had been twice as long as the day before. Normally you would have yawned, but it didn’t seem physically possible to experience any fatigue in the state you were in. You felt... almighty. You finally turned your attention away from your body and turned it towards Apollo, who was already looking at you with a loveless look.

"Good morning, beautiful." You smiled though still confused by the situation you were in. Tempting your luck, you took a sigh and then you spoke, your melodic, honey-sweet voice even though you just woke up, "'Chicken, where are we?"

"We are in Olympus my dear. I promised you that I would not forget you, that I would love you forever. And I meant every single word I said, which is why I had a little conversation with Zeus earlier, and well... let’s just say with a little help I was able to convince him to give you immortality." He said it with the biggest and most satisfied smile I’d ever seen on him, and meanwhile he hugged you and held you and caressed you all over his body, as if to confirm himself that all this was true.

You were utterly speechless, incredulous at what this god had just done in the name of love for you, but at the same time you felt a warm feeling pervading you from within, filling you with joy and happiness, as if that of him had infected you like a disease. You held your hands to his face and laughed in disbelief and said, "You’re the biggest crazy idiot I’ve ever met, Lester!" 

He laughed with you, feeling pervaded by this joy that moved him from within, almost pushing him to tears by the power of these feelings. Holding you tighter, she stroked your silky soft hair as she chuckled happily, "I guess you’ll have to get used to the gold and clouds here." " Still better than a bunk bed to share in five."

Laughing together, you held each other so long as you had time, before he had to take off and lead the sun across the sky. Before he got on the golden chariot, he touched your face with his bronze hands and kissed you gently. " I still can’t believe I’m gonna be able to kiss these lips forever, Y/N." You smiled at him before you grabbed him by the shoulder to push him towards you, and kissed him again. " Then hurry up and leave, so you’ll be back soon and I’ll have a chance to convince you that everything is real." Winking at him, he laughed loudly and heartily, a more melodic sound than any lyre or flute.

"Then I shall not be long in returning to your arms, my lord" And so he departed towards the horizon, and you smiled as you watched him disappear into the sky, thinking with satisfaction of the world that will look up to him with longing and admiration, knowing that he will never again stop for anyone but you, once his daily duties are over. 

[tragedybunny]

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 4

༺Summary༻

The Netherbrain has fallen and Baldur's Gate has been saved. Excited about their new life together, Astarion and Serafina, a warlock who’s past remains hidden, journey to find a way for him to walk in the sun again. But there is no easy path to happiness and even Sera's own patron blocks their way. Together, they can face it all and find their own happily ever after.

Chapter 3: Astarion has an amorous plan to fix Sera's melancholy, it gets a little delayed by an encounter with a peculiar bard.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Rating༻ Mature

༺Warnings༻ Light bondage, anal play, vaginal sex

༺Word Count༻ 4114

༺A/N༻

Hello Lovelies!

This is the smutty chapter. Takes a bit to get there, but I promise the second half is steamy.

Many and eternal thanks to @icybluepenguin for betaing and always encouraging me!

Also, if you recognize a certain bard and his ballad in this chapter - he's on loan from my dear friend @snowfolly If you don't recognize him, please check out Endlessly, one of my fave fics.

Read on AO3

All chapters here on Tumblr

The camp was in high spirits tonight and buzzing with activity. They'd turned the courtyard and upper floor into some sort of communal festival, all because some ostensibly famous bard had come to play there in an act of “charity” that Astarion found gratingly self-aggrandizing. 

The cheery mood and sense of community had even led the denizens to give the camp a proper name, erasing its last ties to Shar.

“Selûne’s Embrace.” He couldn't think of it without disdain. He wanted to be done with gods, and couldn't fathom why everyone else still would cling to them, Dame Aylin excepted.

The bard’s distraction served his purpose though, so he couldn't complain too much. The event kept Sera distracted while he made preparations for a very special night. He'd left a note before trancing telling her to go enjoy herself and he'd be along later, there were some things he wanted to do.

He shut the door to their private cave hideaway with a satisfied smile. Everything was perfectly set, including the items he’d snuck off to the night market in the Wide to procure. Now to fetch his beloved. 

Sera had seemed back in high spirits the last couple of days. They'd started making preparations to travel and Astarion had to admit, he felt more hopeful as well. He still wasn't happy about losing the sun, but seeing Sera smile after that terrible night made even the light of day seem less important. They'd leave in a couple more days after dinner with Duke Ravengard.

The night crowds were thicker tonight, swarming to the surface, bringing along a tide of food and drink for the revelry. Astarion weaved through them with dexterity, avoiding any brushes against his skin that would reveal it as too cold, and any lingering looks that would expose anyone to his too red eyes. 

He glanced down at his fingertips– his nails had become much more claw-like without the tadpole and, though not as animalistic as they once had been, they still required much more attention. Thankfully, the glowing eyes and maw full of jagged teeth had not also returned, those would be much harder to hide. He had a theory that being well-fed had something to do with it. An idea he could possibly discuss with Dal at some point, but for now he’d simply be thankful.

Thus far, they’d managed to keep his nature to whispered rumor, and no one really wanted to force the issue and confirm they were sharing quarters with a vampire. Especially since this particular vampire was the partner of the hero of Baldur’s Gate. It would seem Sera was still his great protector.

And that thought didn't have the sting it used to. They were rather good at protecting each other. 

Astarion’s thoughts were interrupted as he exited the stairs onto the ground floor and the notes of a song reached his ears. His jaw tightened and his teeth ground together. “That fucking song…” The Golden Lyre. 

“Dark haired maiden, play it true,” a rather pleasant voice crooned from outside.

Despite the pleasantness of the voice, the lyrics were still like listening to Lae’zel sharpen her weapon for hours on end. Astarion charged outside, determined to find Sera as quickly as possible. 

“The golden lyre, I beg of you, hold my heartstrings, in your hands.” 

It wasn’t a bad song, it simply was the song; every bard knew it and would play it in every godforsaken shithole in the city. The sort of place he used to haunt. He’d heard it so often, he would find himself singing it involuntarily and recoil, cursing himself. 

“Dark haired maiden, my love, my muse.”

Down the stairs, into the courtyard, Astarion spotted the ridiculous creature, furiously plucking away at a violin, dancing about like an ungainly bird, a mane of gray hair flowing wildly around him. And of course, at the end of a table nearest this display, sat Sera, sipping from a wine glass, with a smile on her face. A smile that was a little too fond for his liking, 

“Oh my love, my muse…”

Astarion shouldered his way over to Serafina, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders in what was definitely not a possessive manner, fingers on the light blue fabric of her dress. “Hello darling.” 

If her smile for the bard seemed fond, for him it was radiant adoration. “There you are. Done with your business for the evening?”

Astarion suppressed a smile, thinking of what awaited her in their cave sanctuary. “Indeed. In fact, part of it was a surprise for you. Shall we away?” he purred at her. 

“You’re such a tease. I’m dying of curiosity now.” 

He gave Sera his hand and helped her from her seat, ready to whisk her away from the scene and the hells-damned song when the music abruptly ended. The crowd started to applause raucously and Astarion attempted to make their exit before another song that would remind him of his lowest days started. Who knew what else was in the bard’s repertoire; The Wilting Rose, Summer’s Sweetest Wine? They all made him shudder. 

He’d gotten maybe two steps when the bard’s melodious voice called out behind him. “Corellon fucking wept… Serafina?”

At his side, Sera froze, eyes going wide with a look of terror he hadn’t seen since Cazador had bound him into the ritual. Astarion felt himself tense as well; from what he understood of the warlock pact, no one in Baldur’s Gate should recognize Sera. They gave one another a look and Astarion released her hand to wrap his fingers around the dagger always at his side. 

“It is you! Don’t you recognize me, it’s Tali?” The tiny elf – moon, if Astarion was any judge – flailed his arms about, jeweled rings catching the fire light and a fine scarlet coat swaying with the effort. 

“H-how? You shouldn’t be able to…” Sera stared at him in wonder. 

“Exactly.” Astarion gripped his dagger tighter. Had her family somehow found her? Was this their agent? 

Through the vaguest of conversations and some deduction on his part, he'd been able to put together that Sera had accepted a warlock pact with Titania, Fey Queen of the Summer Court to escape an awful family. Said family were almost certainly Patriars here in Baldur’s Gate. Sera had tried to disguise that noble bearing she’d been taught since birth, but he'd seen his share of nobles and rabble. There was no way she was anything but the former. And that was all he was allowed to know, lest the magic that hid her shatter. 

Tali’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of Astarion’s hand at his weapon. “Hells, call off your attack vampire!” 

The last word was so loud that the crowd started to look their way. Though there had been talk, they had worked hard to keep Astarion’s nature as secret as possible. That effort looked to be going up in flames. All because of… whoever the hell this Tali was. 

“Why you–” Astarion began to draw the dagger from its sheath, causing Tali to  back away. 

The sound of Sera’s laughter caused them both to freeze. 

“The two of you are ridiculous, you know that.” Sera turned and gave Astarion a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “He’s an old friend.” 

“One that is now extremely worried about you, I might add!” The bard fell into a sulk. 

“Could you give us a minute?” Sera asked, barely waiting for Astarion’s nod before dragging Tali off by his hand. 

Astarion sighed and tried to bury the frustration of the delay to his romantic plans. Slinking off, he disappeared into the shadows, the attention of the crowd having diminished without their entertainment present. 

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, definitely not annoyed with the delay. Agonizing minutes passed as he waited, his fingers tapping against his arm and a fang worrying his bottom lip. Finally, Sera returned without the unwanted company in tow. 

He was already preening for the crowd, readying for another performance. Astarion doubted he could know what had passed between them but at least she didn’t look troubled by it. He held out his arm until she hooked hers through it, giving him a reassuring look, and they started back inside.

“He’s a friend, a friend that seems to have some immunity to Titania’s glamour. It’s fine though,” she answered the question he hadn’t asked.

“Oh so this random bard–”

“Taliesin. Honestly I’m surprised you don’t recognize him, he’s quite famous. He wrote the Golden Lyre.” 

Astarion pretended that did not make his blood boil further. Of course the foppish creature wrote that damned song. “Whatever. He’s allowed around Her Majesty’s spell, but I, the love of your life, am not.” 

Sere halted their progress, turning to shoot him a look. “Astarion, you know that’s not how it works. She can’t just make exceptions.” 

“I know she despises me. And she clearly can make exceptions.” 

Sera sighed and started walking again. “You’re being impossible.” 

Astarion followed, now being pulled along by Sera, despite being a head shorter than him, and slightly built. “Don’t act like it’s not true,” he groused. 

“So you're telling me that all a Fey Queen wanted from you for all this power was a child. How very… cliché.” Astarion was setting up a simple trip wire around their camp. They’d just dealt with a pack of gnolls and didn’t need any more surprises for the night. 

“It's not that simple,” Sera answered from where she stood watch behind him, scanning the horizon for any more danger. “She wants a lineage to serve her, my family line.” 

“And you agreed to that? Was life at home really that bad?” Nothing to compare to his, he was sure. 

The night sky over the Risen Road was turning the brilliant colors of twilight as the first stars appeared.  Astarion had agreed to help with security measures and immediately asked Sera to be his look-out. A chance to spend a little more time with her and “strengthen” their bond. They were on their way to the Githyanki crèche, and perhaps a way to be rid of these worms. He needed to ensure his hold on their warlock leader was as tight as possible. Without the tadpole he might well be entirely dependent on her. 

Oddly, the last couple of nights they hadn’t done much more than chat pleasantly by the fire and share a few kisses. Not for lack of trying on his part. Leading to his desperately attempting to ignore the creeping dread that his protector was losing interest in him, and his mouth was running without much thought. 

Audibly, she inhaled. “If only I could tell you.” 

Astarion felt an awful weight in his stomach, the feeling of knowing he'd screwed up. Only it was disturbingly not like when he'd misstepped in front of Cazador. That was fear of reprisal, of one of his master's many punishments. 

This was… he didn't know exactly. He just didn't like being the cause of any distress to her. “I– no, I should trust you on it. Although I have to say, she'll probably be disappointed if you keep carrying on with a vampire,” he finished with an awkward laugh and was glad she couldn’t see him cringing at himself. 

At least the trip wire was done. No explosions, only noise if something tried to cross into their camp. He stood up, shaking off the clumsy exchange. “There, no gnolls in camp this night.” 

“My hero,” Sera gave him a playful smile and headed back toward the cluster of tents. 

The smile soothed his nerves and he made to follow her when a voice whispered in his ear. 

“Watch how you go, Spawn, I won’t tolerate disappointment in my bargains.” 

That had been the only time he’d heard the voice of Titania, but the threat had remained with him, her distaste for him extremely clear. 

“It doesn't matter. And stop being jealous,” she scolded, and Astarion almost groaned in frustration. 

This night was rapidly spiraling out of his control. 

Letting go of her arm, he pulled her closer to him by her waist. Leaning down to purr into her ear,  “Of course my love, let's not spoil the evening. Not when I have such delicious plans for it.”

He was rewarded with a little shiver and smirked to himself. Oh, how he’d come to know her and what made her body respond. And the love they shared made using his considerable experience something he no longer reviled. For the most part– sometimes the skeletons of the past decided to venture outside the shadowy corner of his mind where he kept them. 

The crowd and the noise faded as he led Sera back toward their quarters. The steady increase of her pulse echoed in his ears, and the scent of her arousal filled the air, more alluring than any perfume. Tonight was safely on its way back to being a success. 

When they reached their room, Astarion swiftly shut the door behind him and locked it. No well-meaning visitors to interrupt them tonight. 

Sera turned to face him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils wide with desire. “What did you want to show me?” 

“It’s in the cave. But first, take off your clothes.” The words were firm, an order, and he watched her swallow hard. 

For his part, Astarion could give or take control with equal pleasure, but Sera, with the rare exception, desired to relinquish it to another. Which made taking it all the more pleasurable for him. 

“I–” Sera started. 

“Shh, just be a good girl and do as you're told.” 

Her skin flushed a deep pink but she wordlessly moved to obey, already sliding into that space in her mind where thought gave way to feeling and reason to desire; the world ceasing to exist outside the two of them. 

When she was freed from her dress, Astarion– still clothed himself– took her hand, careful to not touch any other part of her, and lead her toward the door to their private refuge. “Go on,” he prompted, letting her enter first. 

He didn’t need to see her expression, the ragged, gasping breath she took told him everything he needed to know. The old Sharran rug had been discarded, and a newer plush one was laid down in its place. Currently, a bedroll had been laid over the top of it for extra comfort. And at each corner of the bedroll, attached to a stake driven into the ground, a leather restraint. Nearby was a small box, open to display an assortment of other toys should the night call for them. 

Astarion wrapped his hands possessively around Sera’s waist and leaned to down to speak in a low, throaty voice. “You see, my love, I think I finally understand your problem from the other night. You simply have too many thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours. So I’m going to fuck every last one of them out of it.” 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the blindfold that had been waiting there and slipped it over her eyes. As he did, each breath came more rapidly despite her stillness, like a rabbit frozen in the path of a predator. “And you are going to lay there, and not say a word while I do it. Just make all those lovely little sounds of yours for me.” 

Guiding her toward the bedroll, he laid her down on it, the soft light of the moon from the opening above them bathing her in an ethereal glow. Even without her sight, she obeyed him with perfect trust, following his commands without falter. She gave over each of her limbs to be secured into the restraints until her body was spread gloriously open for him. 

Leaving her to ponder what was next, Astarion wordlessly moved away to strip himself; spending longer than necessary as he watched her chest heave with nervous breath and the minute movements she made out of anxious anticipation. He could feel himself already hardening without even touching her yet. 

Kneeling next to her, he began to skim his nails over her skin, the faintest of marks appearing in their wake. “Now, what am I to do with you, my poor overthinking, anxious love.” His touch idly circled her breasts, avoiding her stiffened, rosy nipples 

“Ast–” she gasped as his fingers closed around one of those nipples and pinched.

“Ah, I said no words, only noises. Behave or we'll have to find a way to keep you from talking.” 

Sera didn't say anything more, only panted and whined as he rolled the nipple between his fingers. 

It was actually the perfect place to start. Shifting so that he kneeled between her thighs, he rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds and felt her try to buck into him. He gave a soft chuckle at her efforts. 

“You're not getting it quite so easily, pet.”

Not that he didn't want her desperately by now, but that would ruin the fun. And more importantly the effort he was making to give her this: a night about her pleasure only. 

He leaned forward, the scent of her - wildflowers and forests - filling his nostrils, intoxicating him. Hands resting on her shoulders, her flesh like satin under his fingers, he stilled her. 

His mouth began to water as he leaned down towards one firm nipple. Instead of latching on to suckle at it, bared fangs pieced the skin above it, withdrawing quickly to create two small streams of blood. 

Sera let out a sharp cry and he was thankful he'd thought ahead to set up here, away from their door.

With her delectable blood flowing enticingly, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. Intoxicating. 

Eyes fluttering closed, he let the taste and scent possess him.  Lazily his hips rolled, cock sliding over her clit, no relief for either of them as he drank the blood flowing from her breast like mother's milk. All the while she gasped and sighed beneath him. 

He could stay like this for hours, teasing the drips from her, not enough to drain her but enough to make his mind and stomach sing. But there was more to be tasted.

With a final lick over the wounds, he withdrew to a noise of disappointment.

“Oh don't you worry, I'm not done with you yet.” 

He’d let himself relive every wicked idea and lustful fantasy he’d had about her while planning tonight. Only some were fit for tonight's purpose, the rest he would get to in time. They had so much of it now. The fantasy enticing him would definitely serve his goal though. 

Getting up, he retrieved a toy and vial of oil from the box, placing them between her legs on the rug, making as much noise as possible. Sera adorably tried to hide her curiosity in silence but the sound of her blood did not lie. 

Coming to stand next to her head, he dropped to his knees, smirking at the intake of breath as he caught her off-guard. “Mouth open, darling, and trust me.” 

Obediently she opened wide for him, a welcoming, waiting hole. 

Very carefully, he placed his knees at her shoulders, and lowered himself over her, sliding his cock into her warm mouth. Wantonly, she moaned around him and he couldn’t stop his own answering groan. Elbows on either side of her hips he gave an experimental thrust, felt her tongue lapping at him. She was good - so, so good, sucking  from underneath him, pliant and submissive.

His hips moved again and he felt his cock twitch inside her. Not yet, he scolded himself. 

Arms wrapping around her thighs, nails digging into her soft skin just enough, he buried his face in her cunt, sodden in expectation of him. Nothing was as intoxicating as her blood, but the taste of her juices, flowing for him, was as close as one could get. Not even bothering to tease, he lavished his tongue over clit, relishing in the much-muted noises. 

It wasn’t enough though. Two of his fingers slipped into her sex, working her as his tongue continued its ministrations. His own hips picked up a rhythm, carefully fucking her mouth. 

Sera’s breath was coming in desperate gasps, the poor thing was nearing her limit. 

“You can wait a little longer, my pet, can’t you? For me?” 

The sound that answered he took for a yes. 

Sucking on two fingers from his unoccupied hand, he coated them with his saliva, and began to tease the last of her holes gently. She was tight and untried, sowith a delicate touch, he worked his way inside. 

Frantically, she lapped at the cock in her mouth, as though to plead with him for release as he fucked all her holes at once. A noise like a scream erupted from her as she shook against him. He could be merciful, he supposed. 

“Go on then, love, come for me.” To punctuate his words, he took her clit between his teeth and sucked. 

It was only moments later he felt her clench around his fingers, and a soft whimper followed. How he wanted to let go too, to spill his seed down her throat and let her taste him. Instead, he pulled his mouth from her and eyed the toy he’d left waiting. 

“Shall I ravage you properly, pet,” he teased, knowing she still couldn’t answer with words, but the thunderous melody of her heart spoke for her. His favorite sound in the whole world, that organ, beating out the song of her vitality, a real and living love. 

“But I’ve got one more treat for you. Now be patie– hgn!” Sera sucked deeply, tongue flicking over his sensitive head. “Naughty little thing,” he scolded. “I should stop right now.” 

They both knew he wouldn’t make good on that threat but still she ceased the attempt to goad him. 

Taking the vial of oil, he carefully coated the small, metal bulb in it. It was delicate work, he knew from horrible experience, but she’d been curious for some time, and was so eager for his fingers just now. The tip of the toy pressed against her and she tried to roll her hips into it. Once, he never would have bet sweet little Sera could be so wanton and needy. And it was all for him. 

Gently, he pushed it inside her, until she had taken it all. A couple of teasing pumps to keep her desperate, and he rose back to his knees, cock slipping from her mouth. 

He took a moment to admire his handiwork; drool running from her mouth, tears escaping her blindfold, her cunt swollen and dripping. 

Gods, she was beautiful.

Kneeling between her thighs, at long last, he gripped her hips, and drove into her, letting out a sigh of relief. Her warm slick squeezed him tight, eager to take all he could give. The feel of the toy inside her pressing against him added another dimension of pleasure, almost too much. 

He thrust with a desperate cadence, his mind fading into only feeling and wanting, almost the same as when he drank from her. The sounds of her pleasure were muted as though miles away. Hips slapped against skin, fingers dug bruises into her skin. 

Again he felt her, climaxing, thrashing, moaning uninhibited now. His cock twitched, gods, it was too much, and he felt himself let go. 

There was stillness and gradually the sounds of the cave penetrated the haze. Sera lay still, her breathing evening out after the exertion. Leaning down, he kissed her with all softness, his undead heart almost quickening with the raw, unbridled, affection he felt for her. 

“You did so well,” he whispered into her ear, “now let’s get you out of all this and into our bed.”

Under a mound of covers, Astarion held Sera close, as she lay with her head resting upon his chest. Idly, her fingers traced lines across his chest. Finally she made a thoughtful hum that drew him from his thoughts. “Yes, love?”

“I was thinking– if this is your treatment for melancholy– do you believe in preventive medicine?” Sera tittered giddily. 

“Oh my darling,” Astarion purred exaggeratedly, “I can most assuredly give you whatever dosage you require.” 

He tightened his arms around her and pulled her up to kiss her properly. They were so lost in the laughter that followed, Astarion barely noted the ease with which he lifted her, strength he hadn’t had before. 

Edited to add my tag list. Oops.

Tag list: @writingmysanity @snowfolly @sunfire-ancunin @vixstarria

@just-a-refrigerator @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @tallymonster @azu21

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate @spacebarbarianweird @cilil @bg3obsessedsideblog

@talentedbitch @claryvoyantfray

[homesickn]

Isn't bite also touch?

Chapter two, check chapter 3 here!

(Loki X Female demon!reader)

SUMMARY: Loki was saved by a demon and now the demon girl is attached to him like a cat is attached to catnip.

Is this trickery? Is this Devil lying to Loki to gift him punishment?

You were feeling overwhelmed. You didn't realize teaming yourself up (a thing you had only accepted in your head, you never confirmed it out loud to him) with an alien God would include being so close to human problems.

The problem was: the constant tracking, you could sense it everywhere. You were honestly starting to get quite paranoid. Any stranger staring for too long could be a spy.

The spell you put on both of you remained unspoken among you and Loki, although you suspected he could sense it too.

You were used to getting away from humans and their machines, but you've never once had to deal with the mightiest heroes all together in a constant attempt to find you. Cops were one thing, government was another, but secret organizations and superheroes were something you've never dealt with.

It was both overwhelming and exciting. The adrenaline of running from something new, but also pretty tiring, the silence among you and Loki wasn't helping all that. Plus, it was beginning to get a little awkward the more you walked.

“We should stay somewhere, for a bit.” you suggested, the two of you were beginning to guess you weren't going anywhere in your path, and the day was starting to set.

“You know I have a much better plan: you let me lead our destination, how about that?” Loki said, angrily kicking some rocks with his boots.

“And how will I know you're taking us somewhere safe?”

“Why do you want safety? We're in constant danger no matter what.” He had a point. 

“Well…” That made you still and look away for a little. “Where do you want to go?” 

Loki looked at you sternly as if the answer was most obvious, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he hesitated.

Asgard? Thor would know and they'd be found. What chance would he have if he decided to fight once again to gain Midgard for himself? 

“Do you still want Earth?” You asked. “It's a pretty big ambition, I'll say. I have power and I don't want to dominate this race, the humans they're…too… emotional.” 

“I don't care if they're emotional or not, which I reckon they are.” Loki agreed with you while choosing not to look in your eyes “However… I was born for this, being king. Having a kingdom and ruling it's basically my destined birthright, my glorious purpose.” He said the last three words with disdain, seemingly also lost in thought.

“Do you want to be king?” you looked at him excited. “Why didn't you just say so? I'll make you a kingdom to rule! I can create one myself,”

He looked at you oddly, analyzing your excitement, you weren't expecting this reaction from your statement but you didn't care. “Or maybe you want Asgard instead of Earth? That'll be more difficult, we'd have to get rid of the king they have.”

You didn't look at Loki while speaking and your eyes widened with multiple plans, turning back to finally look at his face. 

“Oh, that's your father isn't it? The king.”

“No, he's not-”

“I recall reading somewhere about the famous sons of Odin. Is he still king? We could get rid of him easily seeing as he's so old,” you mumbled the last sentence a bit to yourself but Loki heard.

“He's not my father.” He said but was still quiet, studying your way of dealing with things. Everything seemed so simple and the idea of 'getting rid of someone' to you carried no guilt.

“What is it?” You frowned in confusion. “Don't you want to?” You look down at your feet, “we don't need to kill him if that's not what you wish, I'll let you make the plan. Do you want to go right now?”

That made Loki go silent for some time to resonate with the options. He recognized this was your way of granting him the choice and giving him some of the freedom he complained about, in a way.

Loki was lost in thoughts of how to use it for his favor of course, with a being as powerful as you seemed to be, why not make use of the fact you're letting him be in control?

Loki didn't know you could perceive his deceitful intentions, you hid a smirk to yourself, watching his expressions.

He sighed and shared a look with you, “We could make a plan but not right now, I don't think we can step in Asgard today.” He concluded.

You watched the trees around you, having an idea. “Do you want me to pick? I could make us a temporary shelter for the night. I'll make it very cozy, for me, of course,” You analyzed the place around you, “You got all that 'the cold doesn't affect me' thing going on so I'll make myself a nice little fireplace to sleep close to.”

“Fireplace? Cozy shelter? I mean, really? Here goes me thinking you were going to keep me hostage on an alien planet I've never heard of.”

You look amused. “Is there an alien planet you haven't been to?” Now you're curious.

“Oh yes, multiples. I traveled a lot as a prince but never got the chance to meet them all. I thought you'd have a vast knowledge in astronomy given you're good at everything, as you said so yourself.” He teased you and you couldn't help but chuckle.

“No… actually, I've never been off Earth.” That's all he needed to know that you wanted to share.

It wasn't a lie, you were a demon and a master in the arts of Chaos. You had the experience of traveling to other dimensions, in which you've seen other gods, angels and creatures of any place. But, technically, this is your reality and you've never had the time to actually transfer yourself personally to space, any realm or planet. 

But he didn't need to know all that.

“Ok so, turn around!” You suddenly exclaimed to the confused god. 

“What? Why?” He asked, and he couldn't fathom why but did turn around.

With his back to you, you made sure he wasn't looking but he could sense your playfulness. “I seriously hope you won't attempt to murder me, it would certainly be very inconvenient. In addition… I'd win because I'm an immortal god, and then I'd need to hide your body-” he kept saying smugly at the end until you shushed him.

He opens his mouth ready to argue as he didn't accept being told to keep quiet, until you allowed him to turn his back again. He was about to do so anyway, with a finger pointed at you ready to give a possible threat.

But he stopped in his tracks and, still open-mouthed, he gasped quietly watching the sudden wooden cabin in front of him.

“Where did that come from?” his finger now pointed to the cabin in an extreme dramatic manner, his body leaning close to you, you couldn't help but laugh. 

“Ta-daaaaa!!” you playfully sang. “Hey, it's the power of magic!” you showed off a bit of the sparkles in your hands by moving your fingers in a weird dance. “What do you think? It's protected by my magic, so we can spend the night.”

Loki was still a bit astounded, and he had a lot of questions. However, looking at the cabin he couldn't help but push the questions aside, it was indeed very tempting, and they were restless. The god couldn't be blamed for he had been captured, rescued and now is running away all in the same day. His suspicions couldn't help but be overly flourished, for he didn't even know the little witch's intentions. 

Although he had a strong doubt witches were able to build cabins out of nothing, out of nowhere. He kept trying to understand but found no answers.

 He decided that maybe a restful night may actually be needed, and it wouldn't hurt, perhaps he could make a plan meanwhile.

They both got inside, and as promised it was the definition of comfort. The light was dimmed but matching the fire coming from the fireplace, making the place look all warm. He wasn't sure the woman knew he, in fact, enjoyed warmth.

“If it's too much for you, we can always clear the fire and I can make a…oh, what's it called?” you wondered for a second, “the thing the humans have…” you snapped your fingers in an attempt to remember the word, and furrowed your eyebrows.

Loki did too, confused and often questioning to himself what kind of being you were, “I haven't spent much time in the modern world but I believe you're talking about air-conditioners?”

“Yes!” you pointed at him excited, “yes, that's it! Do you want it?” he chuckled and took a while to answer you, looking amused.

“No, no. I'm alright, it's actually…nice, comfortable, I presume.” he looked around and then at you again. With a 'thank you' ready to be said, it was on the tip of his tongue ready to be pronounced.

But he couldn't, something inside him made him stop. Something told him he couldn't express that gratitude, it felt wrong to him, so he kept quiet after that.

You nodded, “Oh, it's nothing! I said I'd make it nice for the night!” you moved as if you knew the place, which he supposed was true due to you having brought everything up to existence with your bare hands. He made a mental reminder to maybe ask you in the future how you did that, what magic or spell you used.

Loki had his interdimensional pocket, he could conjure any object out of nowhere , that's for sure. Still, bringing a whole cabin with magic was completely new to him. 

You got some pillows from the upper floor as he explored around the place. He observed as you fluffed out the pillows and delicately placed them in a patterned circle on the floor, a spot in front of the fireplace. 

Grabbing the forgotten blanket that he conjured earlier from where you had left on the couch as you arrived, you made yourself comfortable and wore it around your shoulders once again, making it present like a sort of green cape. He appeared amused at the image, thinking to himself of his own cape — that he was not wearing at the moment.

You patted the rough wooden floor by your side and looked at him. “Come here, man.” you invited.

“Man?” he reaffirmed mischievously, trying to hide the slight offense, “you know I'm a god,” it sounded like a broken record at this point, “it'd do you well to refer to me properly.” 

You quirked an eyebrow. “I'm not afraid of gods, Your Majesty, why must you act so princely now?” you simply said, once again patting the place beside you. He sat down, you shared a look with him before asking. “Maybe you'd like to drink some wine? I could get us some.” 

“I believe you'd drink it too?” he questioned while not so subtly gazing at the mask you're wearing, and touching the area near his chin as a demonstration. “You'd have to take it off, you know.”

You smile under the mask, “yeah, I know. Better not.” you quite liked the mystery, and knowing how frustrated he got for not seeing your full face.

“Why? Are you ugly? Is there an outrageous mystery attached to your face? Because it only fuels my curiosity if there is… or could it be a midgardian sense of insecurity? I assure you, I'm beyond judging you for your appearance, if you're insecure, that is.” 

You know what he was trying to do, “Not gonna' work, Mischief.” you gave him a wink, “I'm not insecure…” for some reason those words sounded weirdly defensive, quieter, even for you, it made you cringe afterwards. 

“I'm not.” you reaffirmed more sternly now. Somehow making him more confused, but he didn't seem scared, he gave you a soft smile.

“I see. Then you're not. It's good to know.” His smile was still present and he held your gaze, “I guess that only leaves me with the belief that you must be frighteningly beautiful.” His voice was low as he said that, it made you doubt the fire's capacity of not making you shiver.

You couldn't grasp your head around why you felt relieved the God of Mischief was not afraid of you, but you were relieved, that was unquestionable, you felt it within every part of yourself. 

“Not like you're going to find out.” you moved a bit further from him, bending your body back and slowly getting up. He still gave the impression of delightment at your obvious embarrassed reaction, you rushed to the kitchen and checked through the cabinets responsible for the variable alcoholic options.

You took a bottle of red wine and awkwardly moved it on your hands, suddenly feeling too self-aware, not used to feeling like this. You placed the drink on top of the glass table and once again shrunk back in place. 

“You can drink if you want, I'm going to bed.” You hurried to the one of the two separate rooms on the top floor, leaving abruptly and making Loki's head fill with more doubts and— as much as he hated to admit—some worry. What if there is a serious explanation as to why you can't reveal yourself? 

And even if Loki wanted to get much into that line of thought he forced himself out and started inking a scheme to discover everything and, part of the plan involved, not caring about your feelings, if it happened to be personal. Loki had to remind himself that he didn't owe you anything, he didn't know why he was making such a huge deal of finding out about what your face looked like.

★

It wasn't often that you slept, it wasn't a much needed thing, but you liked to see it as a kind of treat. You just didn't realize how much of your powers you used today, it just happened that you fell asleep.

Not just the infuriating pain of the sensors you felt coming from around the cabin woke you up, but also someone's hand. At first you thought you might've been dreaming, however, the more some milliseconds passed, the hand was simply unmistakable.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you exclaimed yet a bit groggily attempting to blink the sleep off your eyes, and also snapping his hands off your face. 

“I used a spell to ensure you'd be sleeping! I was just moving the mask, I just wanted to see…” He was exasperated and trying to explain himself.

“What?! Why would you think saying this makes things better? It is just creepy! AND, I am incredibly powerful, a simple spell doesn't work on me!” Honestly, with the multiple protection charms you've been casting he couldn't guess your powers would block any attempt he'd have of casting anything on you?

“Oh yes, I'm well aware. I just needed to try- Just so I can sleep at least…” 

You sighed and got off the bed, walking downstairs again, having him following you right behind. “Here's the thing…” He started to say.

“No, nope, no,” you massage your temple as you speak and open your eyes to notice something you didn't realize just a few minutes ago, he changed into more comfortable clothes for the night, just like you did. So now you're both ridiculously wearing pajamas.

You didn't mind it that much, you could also see it was somewhere around four in the morning. The sensory noises coming from the protection spell you put around the house now were beginning to grow insufferable. 

“See, I'll be honest, I just don't care,” he opened his arms to show more of himself as he spoke, and you could sense he lied, you don't think he'd be indifferent to your opinion of him, but maybe that's just what you think. “I admit I wanted to see what you look like. I don't understand what's so wrong about that.”

You shake your head once more and turn around to the fridge. The ridiculous all-black pajamas you're wearing are now making you feel very vulnerable, for some reason. You  get some milk out of the fridge and stare at the glass for a second.

“You're such a weird creature. I should've just stayed with the group of freaks, at least I wouldn't be dealing with you.” He said and dropped his arms to his sides in defeat.

You took a moment to think for yourself, the mask now was similar to a defensive shield whether you liked it or not, the mystery was something you could bask on even if momentaneous, even if not long-lasting . You knew he'd eventually see your face, you also knew you didn't plan going anywhere far from him by now. You were stronger than him with your capacities but he carried something you've never felt before, and his magic attracted you to him.

Maybe your actions were becoming a tad bit immature, you sighed tiredly. Watching him as he stared at the ceiling whilst laying on his back on the couch.

You poured the milk in the glass. And took the mask off to lift the glass to your thirsty lips, closing your eyes so you won't see if he's watching you. He is.

You gulp and swallow the liquid quite nervously sensing you're being observed, then put the glass down. There was no big scene, no dramatics, just a quiet moment and your true face, with the mask off.

And his eyes on you, speechless.

Again, with the nervous feeling, you began to grow a bit restless with all the staring. You cleaned your lips with the back of your hand hurriedly, and walked to place the glass in the sink, washing it manually. Doing the action by your own hands would make you, for a few seconds, stop thinking about his eyes on you.

“You're…” he gulped, sticking out his Adam's apple. "Beautiful." He finished quite dumbstruck, still processing your appearance.

You wouldn't say you were the stereotypical image of beauty, but you reckon your human features are always going to be attractive just the way they are. They carry your demonic nature, your demon soul is unmatchable in question of beauty. 

“I don't know why you didn't want me to see you. There's nothing horrific.” He said attempting to remain casual, still looking at you as if mesmerized. You liked it. He cleared his throat.

You turn around to face him, and let your mouth open a little. You can see the change in his microexpressions as soon as he notices, “oh,” He says. “Are those…fangs?” He seemed a bit surprised.

“Yes. Demon ones.”

“...Pardon ?”

To say Loki got scared immediately would be a lie, he was deep-settled in his superiority and massive knowledge on all " monsters " the realms could present. You got a little hurt by the use of the term "monster", and he'd never let his guard falter, he didn't want to act differently but you did notice a difference in his behavior towards you.

You don't know why, but you didn't want him to be afraid of you. It is amusing to feel the fear of others but somehow his fear is not as satisfying now, you were having troubles comprehending why.

After some time, you both spent the rest of the night in the living room in silence, the sun was beginning to set, somewhere around five and a half. Your feet dangling in distraction as you sat on top of the kitchen counter. 

And Loki was near a table on the other corner from you. Funny.  

You were starting to feel your stomach grumble in complaint, you decided to move to the fridge once again to finally eat. Now that you didn't have the mask to hide you everything was easier. 

You grabbed a raw piece of deer meat, the first thing you saw, and pressed your fingertips deep in the meat. Loki was looking at you now instead of the sun setting through the window, his eyebrows raised up, although he just assumed you were checking if the meat was good to be consumed, or in other words, cooked. 

He wasn't expecting you to sniff it and prepare to take a bite straight away.

“Wait! What are you doing?” He exclaimed loudly, causing you to flinch and stop before completing the action, “You can't possibly tell me you're going to eat this raw?” He sounded outraged. 

You were the one confused now, what was the problem with that?

“Do you have a problem with it?” 

“Why, yes! You…” He suddenly stopped and you couldn't decipher him for now, he gave you an odd look, and then shook his head, “you can't eat things raw, why don't you simply cook it?” 

He felt stupid interrupting all of a sudden, knowing you're a demon makes so much sense for your manners and the way you perceive things. He supposed that of course this was natural for you, to kill things, to eat anything in any way, cooked or raw. You wouldn't get sick or throw up by the action, not that he cared if you did.

That didn't mean that it would make him comfortable, the meat was still looking very white, and if he saw you crunching the very apparent bone of the animal he would most likely be the one throwing up in response.

“I don't cook.” You responded quickly, “I don't see the problem with it, makes it tastier when it has the cold touch of recent death.” Your eyes shined at the statement.

You were a very creepy little thing in his eyes. And to put creepy in the statement, he meant it. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the now almost totally visible sun presenting itself.

He turned to you again, you were close to the window, the sunshine was reflecting on you. He thought to himself that all of Hel's creatures are supposed to be magnificent and endearing, you did look like an angel at the moment. Maybe he shouldn't have asked you to take off the mask.

“I can cook,” he replied shortly, making sure not to look you in the eyes, “if you wish. I can show you how.”

The silence grew louder for a moment, you just stared at him, giving a very alien-like expression. Of course, it was wrong for him. The dead texture of the creature in your hands promptly made you feel self-conscious, your hands felt sticky now, dirty unlike his. You didn't know why that bothered you, not knowing why you wanted him to see you in a good light when you were a being of such darkness. 

“...Okay.” You quietly confirmed, he was relieved you accepted. It would make the awkwardness go away, he got the meat from your hands and went to work at the oven, pulling the pans, some ingredients and spices you couldn't identify.

That made you smile a little, he did everything so effortlessly, as if done a million times. You wondered how common it was for him to cook whilst he was raised in a castle, but you felt too embarrassed to ask. Every movement he made was that of royalty, that was how he always presented himself, yet you were in awe to see it was still present in something so simple as this seemed to be.

He might have become aimless at your constant staring, but you didn't mind, you actually enjoyed the tiny discomfort you caused on him.

And he certainly wasn't expecting you to put your head on his shoulders, a bit on your tippy-toes to catch his height. It was clearly an uncomfortable position for you to be in, at least he thought so, and although he didn't complain, his flinching in response was pretty visible.

You were relaxed, you didn't mind your muscles stretching to try and match his stature. You allowed yourself the pleasure of watching someone cook for you.

He hoped you wouldn't notice the awkwardness you left him feeling, but seeing as you didn't move to get away, he himself passed his hands on his shoulders delicately to brush you off him. 

★

Loki's relief at not having to experience watching you eat something raw in front of him didn't last very long, since you grabbed the still hot and recently prepared meat with your bare hands. Complaining with some whiny little 'ouch ouch ouch' and quickly changing the cooked piece to your other hand, scowling at the food in response, as if it horrendously offended you. 

The cutlery was just right in front of you, Loki thought it was so amusing he didn't care to stop. 

Your moment was interrupted by a bright light suddenly breaking through the windows, you hissed as it hit your vision. Loki quickly stepped up and stayed in position for attack, with his hands up in defense.

Your eyes widened when you saw that and you felt the need to help him. However before being able to, your vision faltered and you felt your body weakening until you finally hit the ground. 

If you like it, please leave a comment! ♡

[panpanicatmha]

ask game -

it's pyjama day at ua. bkdk show up wearing the same subtly nerdy all might pyjamas. all might forces them to take a picture together at the end of the day, eventually becoming both of their lockscreens

OOOOOOOOO, interesting interesting

Pajama day for Class 1-A isn't anything unusual. After all, they see each other in the dorms wearing pajamas all the time. So, as per Mina's suggestion, they all show up to school in pajama day in hero-inspired pajamas.

Todoroki misunderstood the instructions and showed up to class wearing the Shoto pajamas that had come out earlier that summer. Kaminari showed up in Present Mic-inspired pajamas, even going as far as styling his hair similarly and poorly drawing on a mustache. Kirishima, naturally, showed up in Crimson Riot pajamas, giving everyone in class a Crimson Riot sticker. Where did he get them from (seeing as they're not official Crimson Riot merchandise)? Why does he have so many? How did they all fit in his pockets? Nobody knows. Shinso unknowingly matched with Kaminari in a way, showing up to class in Eraserhead-themed pajamas (a black turtleneck pajama and black sweatpants) and the dorm coffee kettle. When Katsuki walked into class, there was a collective sigh of defeat. Mina scolds him for not wearing a hero-inspired pajama, to which Katsuki responds with a "fuck off, Pinky." His pajama was one the class has seen every now and then: a black sleeveless tank top with striped pants, colored black, white, yellow, red, and blue. "Good morning everyone!" Everyone recognizes the voice instantly, heads snapping towards the door, wondering how far Izuku went with the-- The class collectively blinks twice. Izuku was wearing...Katsuki's pajama? "Deku-kun," Uraraka starts, breaking the silence. "Didn't you get the message in the group chat?" Izuku blinks twice, clearly confused. "Uh, yeah, I think so. It was about pajama day, right?" he asks, pulling out his phone. "Guys, I have a great idea. For pajama day tomorrow, how bout we all wear hero-inspired pajamas?" He glances up from his phone. "And then there's a bunch of people agreeing. Did I miss something?" Mina frowns. Izuku didn't miss anything in the group chat. "No, you didn't," Uraraka says. "I guess we're all just surprised that you didn't wear something that...stands out more." "Oh!" Izuku's eyes light up the way they usually do when he's about to talk about heroes. "This is official All Might merchandise, actually! It came out as a limited edition set last summer. There were only 25,000 of these sold in Japan. I almost wasn't able to get them!" Mina's eyes widen and snap towards Katsuki, whose face was glued to his phone, ears sporting a bright crimson flush. "Blasty! I didn't know you were such an All Might fanboy like Mido," she teases, wiggling her eyebrows when he makes eye contact with her. "You have it too, Kacchan?!" Izuku exclaims, rushing over towards him. "That's so cool, we're matching!" Katsuki doesn't meet Izuku's eyes for long. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbles out, fingers absently tapping at his desk. Before Izuku could say anything else, Aizawa walks into class and they all take their seats. Mina doesn't miss the way Katsuki's ears and neck remain a rosy hue for the rest of class, while Izuku keeps glancing over from the chalkboard to Katsuki's back, a soft, fond smile on his face.

----

When All Might shows up at the dorms to join the class for dinner (an almost weekly occurrence for the class), he asks to take pictures of everyone in their hero-inspired attire. Once he notices Izuku and Katsuki's unplanned coordination of outfits, he insists that they take a photo together (despite Izuku's flustered "there's no need!" and Katsuki's grumbles of "no fucking way" and "die"). Once All Might is about to leave, Izuku quietly approaches him and mumbles something to him. All Might smiles and nods, giving him a thumbs up. After All Might has started down the path to the faculty living quarters, he hears his name being called out. To his surprise, he finds Katsuki, whose hands are shoved deep into his pockets, shifting nervously back and forth. "How can I help you, young Bakugo?" he asks. After a moment of silence, Katsuki mumbles out his request. For a moment, it takes All Might by surprise, but he quickly flashes a grin and another thumbs up. "I'll be sure to have that sent to you tonight." Katsuki mutters out a "thank you" before hurrying back to the dorms. Ah, All Might muses. Young love.

----

That night, Izuku and Katsuki go to bed with new phone lockscreens, a warm fluttering filling both their chests as they drift off into sleep.

[bakuliwrites]

Mirror, Story Two: Ventricles

Disclaimer: Post-Game Spoilers!!!!!!

Previous Story, Next Story

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI) for Eventual Smut

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Astarion x Tav (OC)

Chapter Summary: After a year of adventuring, Astarion and Orlando are back in Baldur's Gate, excited to begin their newest adventure: home ownership.

An anthology of short, post-game stories featuring Astarion and my Tav, Orlando.

Chapter Tags: BG3 SPOILERS, ACT 3 SPOILERS, domestic fluff, suggestive conversations, lots of banter, Astarion getting bit in the ass (and not in a sexy way, though that might happen in a future chapter)

Read here in this post or over on my AO3.

Astarion smooths his hand along the wall, creamy stones cool and uneven under his fingertips. His touch ripples along the seams between each one, bumping gently as he trails along the perimeter of the house. In the darkness, it glows like a lantern, warm light pooling on the grass from the diamond-paned windows. Astarion thinks back to over a year ago when the image of this house had first been presented to him, during the celebration after the defeat of the Netherbrain. At the time, it had seemed like a pipe dream. Neither he nor Orlando had much money to their names, and the thought of settling down seemed almost too good to be true. Unbeknownst to Astarion at the time, this little cottage on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate was a gift to Orlando from her mother, who had received a sizable inheritance from the sale of their ancestral property. Who knew decaying estates with inert portals to the deep sea would be worth so much?

The cottage is perched on a low cliff overlooking an isolated cove, just beyond the city limits. A narrow, winding road leads up from the harbors of Baldur’s Gate and splits into three different paths. The property sits just off the southwestern-most of the three paths, private but only a ten minute walk from the city. Orlando surprised Astarion with the house a few days after the ceremony, once they had recovered from the raucous festivities. However, neither felt ready to settle down just yet. They dumped what few belongings they had with them there and set off on the road, itching for adventure. Though Astarion wonders if it wasn’t adventure they were looking for, but a means to escape the mounting pressure of being named Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. 

On the road, Astarion and Orlando were just two travelers of little to no renown. In the furthest reaches of Faerûn, they could venture forth in quiet anonymity for a while. A smattering of people here and there might have recognized them, but overall, they were left well alone. However, the exhaustion of travel got to them and the decision to settle down, at least for a little while, was made. It was back to Baldur’s Gate, where the hullabaloo had died down and they could walk the streets well-liked, but not fawned over (or sneered at, in the case of the few remaining Absolute supporters). 

As Astarion leisurely paces through the garden of his new abode, bathed in starlight and humming softly to himself, he feels awash with relief. Relief and a bit of apprehension. This will be the first time in over two-hundred years he’ll have a home. A real home. Somewhere he can feel stable and secure, safe and comfortable. And yet, this building does not yet feel like home. Nevermind the lack of furniture or the dusty, cobweb-riddled corners. The house, in all its newness, is a foreign body. A husk, aching to be filled with memory. But it brims with potential. With promise.

As Astarion passes the window that will soon belong to their bedroom, Orlando gives him a small wave, approaching the cloudy glass with some excitement. She struggles for a moment trying to tug at the rusty old deadbolt, but finally manages. With some help from Astarion, she pushes open the casement window, sending up a cloud of dust as the panes swing open.

“Sorry,” she laughs, which swiftly turns into a cough. The house sputters out years worth of abandonment in gray puffs, dousing Astarion and an overgrown rose bush that has certainly seen better days. He and Orlando wave their hands around to dispel the choking motes, scowling until the air clears. 

“Gods, it looks as if I’ve gone crawling in the dirt,” the Elf grouses, dusting off his now grubby shirtfront with the back of his hand. 

“You look like you’ve been crawling in the dirt? What must I look like then?” Orlando exclaims, tugging down the hem of her oversized work shirt to show off the sandy brown fruits of her sweeping labor. 

“Like the Princess of Dust and Cobwebs,” he teases, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. He feels her smile against him, soft lips feathering kisses at the corner of his mouth. When they separate, Orlando wears an impish smirk.

“And are you the Window-Cleaning Prince, come to rescue me from my tower?” she coos, batting her eyelashes in an almost mocking fashion. Astarion rolls his eyes.

“Hardly,” he scoffs, grabbing a cleaning cloth from where it was draped over his shoulder and whipping the air with a sharp crack, “Now close it, so I can clean it,” 

“Yes, sir,” Orlando returns, though her tone does not house a single ounce of actual obedience in it. She merely does as she is asked because she, herself, has work to get back to. Astarion chuckles alongside her as they each return to their cleaning duties. He watches Orlando from the window while he scrubs at glass stained with dirt and rainwater. She’s beaming to herself, happy as a clam as she removes the offending layers of dust from the bedroom hearth. He thinks about her excitement as they made their long journey back to Baldur’s Gate, the elation she felt at finally getting the opportunity to “nest,” as she put it. To make a home for the two of them. 

The two of us, Astarion repeats in his head, a thought that fills him with a quiet, fluttering joy. 

Out loud, they had dreamed of all the empty rooms they would fill with furniture, furniture they would get to pick out together. Astarion, in his imagination, leaned towards a gothic, ornate look with dark wood, crushed velvet, and shades of crimson or merlot. Orlando seemed satisfied with this aesthetic, though she requested the kitchen remain light with its already colorful tile backsplashes and touches of sage green, terracotta, and cream. A bit of a hodge-podge home, perhaps, but uniquely theirs. The time had come to start their interior design, but they needed to build up their savings again. For now, however, they were content with making do with what they had and imagining what could be. 

Astarion finishes up with the windows before returning inside to help Orlando unpack some of the various trinkets and talismans they’ve collected along their travels over the last year. He unwraps a vintage bottle of Elverquisst, gifted to them by Shadowheart when they met up with her on their way to visit Halsin, and stores it in the cellar until such special occasion warrants its consumption. He watches as Orlando carefully positions a crystal figurine in the shape of an octopus on one of the windowsills, a treasure that they may or may not have pilfered from a Goblin camp just outside Daggerford. A Githyanki greatsword hangs over the mantel, Lae’zel’s way of thanking them for helping her people. A sun catcher, either meant to be darkly humorous or perhaps an awkward attempt at consolement, hangs at the kitchen window.

“Who gave this to us?” Astarion questions with the raise of an eyebrow as he pulls the object out of a little velvet bag.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Orlando admits, gazing at the object, perplexed, “It was in our pack after Withers’ get together, with a little note addressed to you.”

He sighs, holding it up in front of his eye and peering through the prismatic crystal. Something about it screams Minsc to him, in which case, the gift is no doubt a clumsy attempt to make Astarion feel better about losing his ability to walk in the sun. He can practically hear Minsc proclaiming that this “magical item” is supposed to capture sunlight, perhaps allowing Astarion to temporarily wander out in the daytime.

“And what good would a suncatcher do for a vampire spawn?” Astarion sneers, testing its weight in his hand, about ready to toss it back into the crate he found it in. 

“You could thrash it around like a flail and whack people with it,” Orlando half-jokingly suggests, mimicking a swinging motion with her hand.

“Could do,” he muses, dragging a fingertip along one of the pointed edges, “It’s rather sharp, actually. Might even do a fair bit of damage.”

Should there ever be a home invasion, if he’s desperate enough, Astarion will snatch it from its resting place in the kitchen and make good use of it.

When all but a few of the crates have been unpacked and the night sky starts to lighten with the first threat of day, Astarion and Orlando adorn each window with thick, light blocking curtains. Satisfied that not a single sliver of light can pierce in or out of the house, they settle in for slumber sometime around dawn. In the heat of the morning, there’s no need for a fire in the hearth. But the discomfort of their thin bedroll, padded only by an ornate rug Wyll sent as a housewarming gift, has the two of them searching for softness and comfort. Weary from a night spent cleaning, Orlando promptly passes out in Astarion’s arms, snoring softly against the crook of his neck. Astarion follows not long after, falling into a deep, dreamless meditation.

Sometime around early afternoon, Astarion senses Orlando’s restlessness. He feels her slip from his grasp, taking special care to rearrange the blankets back over him. Her lips brush against his temple before her warmth is temporarily lost to him. Astarion’s eyelid briefly flutters open to catch a glimpse of the bioluminescent spots on Orlando’s back retreating in the darkness. A while later, he hears the front door open and close, but is far too exhausted to pay it any mind. He dreams of sitting on the porch, enjoying the rushing sound of the waves down below and feeling the gentle prickle of sunlight on his skin. Orlando sits at his side, fingers carding softly through his snowy curls, her lips tasting of sugar and lemon. 

A ruckus awakens Astarion later that evening. He jolts awake, joints aching, left arm asleep, and back ferociously sore. Orlando is nowhere to be found, at least not in the living room. And the terrible racket is only getting louder by the minute.

“Darling?” he calls out, groggily wandering from room to room, cradling his numb left arm. There is a brief moment where Astarion has half a mind to grab the suncatcher-turned-flail from the kitchen window. He and Orlando have just started to settle into this house and he’s not about to let intruders ruin the sanctity they are trying to create. His anxiety is quelled, however, when a moment later, Orlando’s voice calls out to him.

“In here!” she shouts from somewhere at the back of the house. Astarion fumes off to the bedroom, towards the source of the commotion, relieved he won’t have to defend his property, but irritated to have been so rudely awoken. What on earth could Orlando possibly be doing this early (or late, rather, given that it was well past sunset)?

“What in the nine hells-” Astarion begins, fully awake and incensed. However, upon entering the bedroom, Astarion is greeted by the sight of two rather burly looking Dragonborn carefully lifting a plush looking mattress onto a canopy bed. Orlando sits on the floor, hair up in a messy bun, fussing over the drape of the crimson bed skirt. Her beam upon seeing her beloved is enough to brighten the whole room and temporarily make Astarion forget about the ache in his body.

“Ta-da!” she enthusiastically greets, clambering to her feet and gesturing towards the newly assembled bed in the center of the room. Befuddled, Astarion blankly stares at the newest addition to their furniture- well, one of the only additions to their furniture. 

“Thank you, my friends,” he distantly hears Orlando twitter, forking over a hefty bag of coins and showing the two Dragonborn to the door.

“No problem, O,” one of them returns in a gruff yet jovial voice, “Say hi to your mom for us.”

“Will do! You’ll have to join us all for dinner sometime,” she returns, before the door falls shut and she traipses back to join Astarion in the bedroom. She closes the door behind her, an apprehensive look on her face.

“Do you like it?” she ventures quietly, hands clasped behind her back and tail hesitantly swishing against the floor, “I tried to find one I thought you’d like. If you don’t like it, we can return it!”

Astarion silently inspects the bed, inching closer and smoothing his palm along one of the sturdy, oak posters. The thick, velvet curtains, parted and held open with some gold tassel cords, are luxurious underneath his fingertips. He presses a palm against the mattress, testing its firmness. This bed is everything he has ever dreamed of, right down to its gothic, ostentatiousness. He feels his chest constrict, overwhelmed with emotion. Orlando bought him a bed. Bought him a bed that he actually likes. Went out of her way to pick one out that she thought he might appreciate. He can’t remember the last time someone did something like that for him. 

“Like it?” he dreamily starts, sidling over to the side of the bed he’d like to claim as his and flopping down onto the mattress. He bounces briefly before sinking into its heavenly plushness.

“Oh,” he groans, letting his eyelids flutter shut as he luxuriates in the comfort he wishes he had had last night, “It’s magnificent, my darling.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Orlando joyously cries, throwing herself down right beside Astarion, who turns to drape an arm over her. They’re eye to eye, centimeters apart, gazes searching.

“Where in all of Faerûn did you get the money for this?” he exclaims after a silent moment, flabbergasted, “And why couldn’t we have done this yesterday so my arm wouldn’t have to feel like it’s falling off?”

“Well, while you were busy cutting off the circulation to your extremities, I went into town to purchase a couple of necessities using the last of the money we made outside Candlekeep-“

“Money you made,” Astarion cuts in.

“We made,” Orlando emphasizes with a wicked little grin, “Helping that sweet old lady find her missing Gremishka.”

“The wound still stings, you know,” Astarion murmurs, gingerly rubbing his backside.

“Well, think of it this way,” Orlando begins, scooting closer and cupping his face. Astarion rests his hand on the small of her back and smirks as the Tiefling goes on, “Thanks to the small sacrifice your derriere made, we now have one of the nicest, most comfortable beds I could find at Fredweard’s Furniture and Upholstery. Reed and Aria, the owners of the shop, owed me a favor and agreed to help me assemble it. I was hoping it would be done before you got up.”

“Well, it is much appreciated, darling. I-“

Astarion pauses abruptly, casting a suspicious glance at a rather proud looking Orlando. 

“Did you say they helped you assemble it?” he questions, the bed frame creaking ever so slightly as he shifts his weight, “As in, you had a part in the assembly process?”

Astarion recalls Orlando’s insistence back when they visited Gale in Waterdeep, claiming that she knew how to properly reassemble a broken chair with a confidence that would’ve made Professor Dekarios himself look like a diffident neophyte. With a flick of her wrist and an unintelligible utterance, the chair pieced itself back together, only to collapse under poor Gale as soon as he set himself down in it. After several minutes of breathless laughter, Orlando went back to a more traditional method of mending. By the time she was done, she had it sturdier than when Gale bought it, though she vowed never to try to use magic to fix anything ever again. Though skilled in spells pertaining to the mind and the otherworldly, furniture mending is not Orlando’s magical strong suit. Though, she’s picked up enough building skills from her many years partnered with Gortash to make her a threat (albeit, only when it comes to small household items). 

“Mayhaps,” she drawls noncommittally, glancing demurely away, “Magic played no part in it this time. I promise!” 

“I just want to guarantee that I’m not going to be rudely awakened in the middle of my rest when the bed comes crashing down underneath me,” Astarion posits, somewhat jokingly. But only somewhat. Orlando gives an insistent reassurance that the bed will, indeed, hold together. 

“Jokes aside, darling,” Astarion begins after a bit more teasing, smoothing back some errant strands of her dark hair. Orlando’s eyes are bright when they meet his, curious and loving. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers and holding her close.

“I’m glad you like it,” she murmurs, voice muffled against him. They lay in one another’s embrace for a while, enjoying the softness of the mattress and each other’s company. This is not Astarion’s first real memory of home, post-Cazador. But it is his first memory of stability. Home has always been wherever he and Orlando are, so long as they are together. But life on the road, in the year after the defeat of the Absolute, was never stable. There was always a constant search for shelter, for food, for money. This house, however, feels solid, sturdy, and comforting. Though it is a work in progress, already in the first two days of living here, Astarion can feel it welcoming them. One day, this cottage will be alive with memory. These first few days are the spark, the strike of a match lighting a hearth. The slow trickle of blood into ventricles aching to burst into life.

“You know,” Orlando slowly starts after a little while, drawing back to look Astarion in the eye. Her gaze is dusky, cheeks dusted pink in the low candlelight, “I can think of a few activities that might test the mettle of this frame.” 

Astarion raises an eyebrow, an impish, lopsided smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Hmmm, perhaps we ought to test if your construction skills have improved,” he purrs, gently gripping Orlando by the back of the neck and swallowing up her laughter with a fervent kiss.

A/N: I wanted to do some dialogue and banter practice this chapter, which was lots of fun! I really enjoy writing domestic fluff and I don't do it nearly enough! Looking forward to writing some more in future chapters. Up next will finally be some smut. Breaking in the new bed and what not, of course. Thank you for reading! Lots of love &lt;3

[residentdormouse]

Seeing Stars (And Other Shapes) Word Tag Game

Profuse apologies @mrsmungus for the delay in this. In true sharing is caring fashion, my children had given me their stomach bug, and I was down and out for a few days. Finally starting to get caught up.

My Words: Circle, Square, Triangle, Heart, Star

Since we’ve covered the alphabet, our colors and shapes, we should probably start on our counting.

Your Words: One, Two, Three, Four, Five (substituting up as needed)

As Always, this remains an -Open Tag- for anybody looking to join, although unlike our alliteration train, this is traveling an unclear path moving forward. What’s next? Who knows. Seeing our pattern, my three year old may advise better than I... 🤣

Circle:

(One of the only times I go for Flagg’s perspective. Wasn’t a place I wanted to linger long, let’s be honest 😂)

The cell didn't leave much room to maneuver. So many steps had been taken to avoid this in his lifetime. Years dedicated to its prevention. He would not be caged or taken advantage of. Never again.

But now the walking dude could barely pace a circle in his new found space.

The cubes around him held a variety of creatures. Things he himself had never seen before. And then there were things he recognized with little doubt.

Flagg glared at the same sentinels he had trusted. Slavers in some of the others. Prior residents of his New Vegas. His self-created paradise. A flash of red hit his eyes at just the mention of the place. His realm and his folly.

Once more, his fist smashed against the glass, obstructing his view of the creatures. Because there was no question now; they were like him. They were something more. Something under all that, a connection just outside his grasp. Beyond his current knowledge. A connection of crimson and destruction.

Square:

The TV was already turned off, the portable music player and headphones he wore were now resting on the table, and the last thing left was to throw a blanket over the small child. Once everything around him was peaceful and squared away, she went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for herself.

"How was Lloyd?"

'He said they know about him. Who he was.'

The idea threw her for a second. Hell, she barely knew who Lloyd was, and she came here with him. For people here to already know… And how exactly did he find all this out…

"Is he sure? How does—?"

'Max.'

Three letters, but it said all it needed to. She knew Max just as long as Lloyd, and while his past in Vegas was more threatening in appearance, the girl, one who by all logic should be a savior-hero type, seemed to be more of a menace than anybody else she knew. Well, practically everyone else. But her interactions with their nightmare man were limited in comparison to the others, and Harold… well, he had his own problems too.

Triangle: (Shape)

(I got nothing. No triangles in this world. Maybe I should go write some Gravity Falls stuff real quick. Replaced it with ‘Shape’ since there seems to be no other actual simple shapes listed that I can find at least…)

The closer the figure came, the more irregularities she picked up on. The sagging skin, eyes that had just the slightest red shine to them. Eyes like she saw in her nightmares.

The pair of them continued to backpedal slowly, their sight never leaving the prowling shape. A small amount of distance was placed between them, until she backed into something solid. Solid, but not static. Pliable. Only slightly, but it moved as she hit against it, and the thought made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Her breath caught in her chest as she turned around to see another figure, the red shine taking over dead looking eyes, coarse hair poking out around its eye sockets. She didn’t have time to process anything further.

Heart:

"You own a cabin?" Scribbling started on a blank page.

"I don't think, just in my head."

"What's all in this cabin?"

"Lots of books, some pictures. Hey! I think Glen painted this one." Instinctively, his smile reflected the one shining on her face, but otherwise, Glen remained silent.

"So we're after Trips, then?" Disappointed with the development, Stan muttered it more to himself, but still turned to Glen for confirmation, "...you met her after Trips, right?" Nodding affirmatively only prompted Stan to close his notebook and sink back on the couch. "I'm not really sure what to try next. I was hoping something there would work."

Looking back at Hayden, his heart sank. Was this really it? He was hoping to give her some answers by the end of this. Would be a lie to say he wasn't damn curious himself, but that was secondary. He wanted her to know, even if it didn’t help them. Especially if it didn’t help them. Once she knew what was there, she may be able to let it go. Or they could begin actively dealing with it. Either way, it had to be better than the purgatory she kept herself in. Whatever they found, though, he believed what she told him before: regardless of what was found, she wanted this life here with him. And he was coming to realize he wanted it just as much.

But he also knew, until they tried everything, she wasn't going to give up on this.

"Hey, Stan, do you mind if I give it a shot…?"

Star:

(A bit longer, but I love writing Harold and Glen bickering. Non-canon fun time.)

"Well, that metaphor leaves a bigger question. If that fucker was just the knife, who exactly stabbed us in the first place."

Max gave a sly smile as she checked in on him. "Oh, gold star for you sweetheart. Truly." The two shared an unspoken exchange of expressions that neither Hayden nor Glen could miss, but it faded shortly after it appeared. “While I’d love to delve into the shit show that your world is clearly immersed in, I’m still waiting for some clarification here myself. And to be honest, think I’ve been pretty damn patient about it to this point. So spill.”

Glen felt Hayden turn her attention to him as well. “If everything’s falling apart regardless, I think I’d like to know it all too…”

His other free hand went over to fall on hers. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

A smile was sent her way, the only gesture that he could give at this point. It seemed to be enough though. Her shoulders released the tension that had built up, and he could see a new calm taking over her features.

His train of thought was derailed as a pizza combo flew in front of his vision. “Hey! What’d I say about that shit!” Another shot back and bounced off Hayden’s head. “Story time. Start talking.”

Harold grumbled as he turned back around in his seat. “Like he really needs the extra prompting… Give Bateman the floor, and he’ll pontificate until your eyes roll back in your skull and your soul shrivels up and dies…”

Unable to hold it back, a light chuckle at the commentary escaped him. “Fuck you too, Harold.”

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Asleep In The Keep: A DP x BNHA fic

Summary: Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady find a member from the mysterious vigilante group, Phantom.

Word count: 5817

Chapter 19: Where's Your Head at?!

19/?

It had been a slow night during patrols, which was surprising since during the last few weeks, crime rates had gone up. Stain: The Hero Killer sparked something in society that made people lash out towards the heroes. Most of those affected had been angsty teens who felt hurt or scorned by their peers, or at least that's what Kamui Woods’ heard. They just needed a steady hand to guide them back to the right path. The real threat however wasn’t the ones who made themselves known, but the ones who worked in the quiet behind every corner or alley. It was important to stay diligent and keep an unclouded mind�� 

…Which was something his partner was having a hard time with.

“Seriously, that kid was really creepy.” Mt. Lady, while being an exceptional hero with a powerful quirk, she had a habit of looking at the smaller things. This didn’t impact her hero duties for when push came to shove, she shushed harder. Kamui Woods admires that about her. She continued again, “Did you see the way he looked at me?” She made exaggerated motions while pointing to her eyes, “it was like he was trying to freak me out on purpose. It gave me the chills” she shivered. 

Despite her flaws, Kamui Woods really enjoyed his time with her, and even considered her a friend (even if she never agrees to hang out with him off the clock).

“He was probably just shocked to see a hero at this time of night.” Kamui Woods couldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel something from the boy. It felt as if there was no soul behind the kid’s eyes and they wanted his to reflect them. He thought for a moment and said, “It could’ve had something to do with his quirk?” Quirks that affected people’s emotions weren’t unheard of, but they were still few and far between. Kamui Woods himself had only met two people who had such a quirk. He continued, “The kid seemed polite. He even bowed as we walked past.” Despite the interaction being creepy, the kid was still respectful.

“I guess…” she shrugged, “but when he walked past, his shoulder brushed against me. It was cold. It was like all the warmth from my arm was sucked out. I actually thought he was about to attack me.” This took Kamui Woods by surprise. 

The night, while not the warmest, sat at a comfortable 15°C, but when the boy passed by, a bitter chill swept into Kamui Woods bones. He thought it was just the breeze. And the boy, in spite of being off-putting, didn’t give off any malicious intent. He still believed Mt. Lady. She, despite being a newer hero, had a good head on her shoulders and had the instincts needed for the job, even if she could act immature at times. Kamui Woods would keep an eye out for the boy from now on.

They continued like this, neither of them saying anything except for a few short conversations. The patrol remained slow and eventually they were close to where they started again. The Hero Commission had assigned many of the local heroes of Musutafu different sections of the city. Supposedly, they believed the vigilante group who calls themselves “Phantom” had been seen around here but had not made any contact with any heroes in the area. Until that changes, heroes all over Musutafu were confined to one patrol route. Kamui Woods doubted that would happen. One of the group members would probably catch on to being hunted then they would move to a different city, like they did in Hosu. 

As they were walking past an alley, a bitter chill blew in the air. Both him and Mt. Lady froze, recognizing the sensation. Was it that same boy? They had checked the alley before on their last round. Nothing was out of the usual other than an overwhelming feeling of wrongness. They left quickly after confirming the area was clear. Of course it had to be this alley. He looked over at Mt. Lady behind him, her eyes were wide. She was thinking the same as him. They didn’t dare speak, too afraid of disrupting whatever was happening in the alley or alerting the person inside. There was always a chance nothing was there, but Kamui Woods doubted it. Every muscle in his body was twitching to flee, and he had to fight to not cave-in to the instinct. Mt. Lady was in a similar condition. This was exactly why they had to go in. 

Kamui Woods looked over at Mt. Lady and gave her a confident look, but it was hidden under his helmet. Instead, he gave her a firm nod and she nodded back at him. Just being with her was enough to calm him down. With slightly shaky hands, he was able to sign out a hastily thought-up strategy. Most heroes knew sign language since it was important to be able to communicate in situations like this. When what to do was decided, Mt. Lady and him nodded at eachother once more to reassure themselves. Kamui Woods sent out a quick message for reinforcements in the area. Despite his feelings for Mt. Lady, the crammed environment wasn’t the most suited for her quirk. Until then, they had to risk going in, not wanting to chance the criminal getting away. 

Slowly, using all their stealth training, they approached the mouth of the alley. Unfortunately, the alley was a dead-end, so they couldn’t go in through the back to corner them. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, since that also meant the person (or persons) couldn’t get away either. They had no idea what they were up against. By how intense the aura was, something bad must have happened. The worst case was a murder, which seemed likely since the feeling of death was slowly overwhelming them as they walked deeper into the alley.

They heard faint noises up ahead. They both had to stop breathing to be even able to hear it. It was almost like fizzing? They walked in synchronized movements deeper in, curiosity getting the better of them. A faint green glow illuminated out and there was a faint smell of electricity in the air. Before them they saw a blob on the ground, but what surprised them most was what was above it. After a second, the blob lifted into the air and returned to it’s master, a white haired teen. A phrase repeated into Kamui Woods’ head. It is cold outside. 

The teen, no, Phantom , grabbed it out of the air and it molded into his hand. Was that thing a part of him? Was this his quirk? Kamui Woods couldn’t see any of the others around. From what he knew about the group, they liked to work closely together. Was it just him? Before he was able to communicate this to Mt. Lady, she gasped at the display before her. 

Phantom snapped his head towards them in an unnatural manner, earning further gasps from both of the heroes. His eyes widened as he stared down the heroes, and the off-putting vibe increased tenfold. Before Phantom could react first, Kamui Woods launched an attack of tree roots from his arm and was able to wrap it around him. Mt. Lady rushed in while he was incapacitated, but something was off. Phantom didn’t seem phased, he wasn’t even struggling. The only thing on his face was shock, and even that was mild. While he still had the opportunity, Kamui Woods grabbed his communicator with his free hand and spoke one phrase without context. 

“It is cold outside!” He heard nothing on the other end.

Mt. Lady’s punch connected as soon as the phrase was uttered. Despite being limited in tighter spaces, her hand-to-hand combat made up for this disadvantage, and she was a heavy hitter. The sound of her fist echoed in the alley with a sickening crunch. They both watched in horror as Phantom’s head exploded, bursting his shattered skull into a gooey mess.

Mt. Lady looked at the crime scene in shock for a second, then her face morphed into one of fear and disgust. She looked over at him, pale and trembling after what she had just done. Kamui Woods knew Mt. Lady, she wouldn’t hit hard enough to kill. Seconds slowed down to minutes and Kamui Woods felt himself get sick when he realized his roots were still holding onto the body…

He was about to release his hold, ready to burn off the branches, when he caught sight of the boy's once intact head. The splatters orbited around the boy's neck like a bloody halo (if blood was green and glowing). The body was still twitching. 

Slowly, like the attack was going back in time, the goo started to flow back to the body's head. Mt. Lady was still looking at Kamui Woods, so she couldn’t see what was building behind her. His body language must have given it away and she slowly turned around, obviously apprehensive to what she might see. She turned just in time to see the last few drops meld into his head. 

The once dead teen looked at them blankly, but there was something hidden underneath. Phantom touched the roots that wrapped around him gently, like he was scared they were going to attack him (which was fair after what just happened to him). He suddenly grabbed hold of a firm branch and started to push his body away. He struggled at first, and Kamui Woods had no idea what he was trying to do. Slowly, the boy’s body was starting to move through the roots. It was like watching slime ooze out between the cracks of a box. 

Both Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady were too stunned to do anything, still not yet recovered from the boy’s decapitation. After a few seconds, the boy untangled himself from the branches. He rubbed and patted his torso, as if still surprised that it was intact. Did he not know he could do that?

“What the fuck…” the boy groaned. It appears he didn’t know. His hands shot up to his neck, rubbing under the fabric as if looking for the seam. Something twisted inside Kamui’s gut. The boy felt more than dangerous, he felt wrong. 

Kamui Woods shook off his shock and launched his other arm at the boy while recoiling his other roots. They were able to once again latch onto Phantom. Like before, Phantom was able to squirm out of the root's grasps, this time with more ease than prior. While he was preoccupied with that, Mt. Lady rushed towards him with a fist raised, but missed and hit the roots below, causing them to splitter apart, wood chips flying. Phantom jumped back and it seemed as if he was floating. Mt. Lady charged at him again, but he nimbly dodged her every attack. 

“Why are you attacking me?” Phantom’s voice was hollow as he spoke and its echo reverberated in Kamui Woods bones. It didn’t sound desperate or like a plea, just filled with a child-like confusion. Mt. Lady, unmoved, didn’t stop her volley of attacks and Kamui Woods followed suit, sending smaller but faster branches to the vigilantes' feet to trip him up. His foot got tangled and Mt. Lady was able to hit his shoulder. It reacted similarly to his head, but he quickly recovered.

“Seriously, like why?” Phantom jumped back, “I haven’t done anything to you guys!” He stood open in front of them as if expecting an answer. He really looked like a kid.

“You’re dangerous!” Mt. Lady shouted as she threw another punch. The teen shrieked but was able to dodge it like the others. 

“Is this because of the whole ‘vigilante’ thing?” It sounded like a whine, “I really didn’t think it’s that big of a deal.” He was casually able to dodge both Mt. Lady’s and Kamui Woods attacks. The kid was skilled, that was for sure. He must have had training before, along with his brothers. They have yet to show themselves, but from the stories Kamui Woods heard, they were able to move in sync perfectly. They had to find a way to end this soon before they arrived. 

A thought dashed across Kamui Woods’ mind as cold air filled his lungs. The boy… This was the same chill from when the boy passed by them on the street. Could he be one of the brothers? He couldn’t remember what the kid looked like, only black hair and a white streak, but he felt very similar to the Phantom before them now. But was that really the case, where was he? Kamui Woods looked around frantically for any spot that they might have missed, any corner, any object, any unseen shadow... It’s possible that this all could’ve been a trap, that the boy led them here, he heard a similar thing happened with Fat Gum. But that didn’t make sense! The Phantom member didn’t look like he was expecting them, and if it had been a trap wouldn’t there be more of them? Phantom also hadn’t tried attacking them, despite what they’d done. He seemed more confused than malicious. But the boy and the Phantom before them were connected somehow…

Wait, was it only one person? But that didn’t make sense either! Phantom had only been using one quirk and from the reports each Phantom had a different set of skills (with ice one being more active). Nothing was adding up.  

The fight was going nowhere. Phantom had yet to tire but the same couldn’t be said for Mt. Lady and him. Mt. Lady’s attacks had gotten slower and Kamui Woods branches were becoming less coordinated. Phantom noticed.

“Since you’re not gonna answer my questions, can I ask something else?” Silence, “So the guy, I understand his quirk and costume, he’s basically Groot, but-” Kamui Woods was offended.

“Like that guy from that American movie?!” He shouted. Before the age of quirks, people would make hero movies that almost mirrored the world today. These were classics that people still found enjoyment out of, even if it wasn’t the most accurate portrayal of quirks. 

“Yeah?” The kid answered casually. Mt. Lady tried to sweep his legs, but her kick went through them like jello. 

“How old are you, kid?” Nowadays however, not as many people had seen them. Kamui Woods’ grandparents had a copy of these films so he was at least familiar with it. Before Phantom had the chance to answer, a powerful fist connected to his body, and sent the slime-like boy flying into the wall. 

Luck was on their side. Reinforcements had finally arrived in the form of The Punching Hero: Death Arms. He was the only one so far, but the fight had only been going for less than 10 minutes, so it made sense. 

“Finally!” Mt. Lady beamed, “I was trying to get a hit on that little fucker!” she did a little jump and punched into the air. 

Death Arms looked at the wall that held the remains of Phantom. He had punched so hard that the wall had a crater in it. Phantom looked like a cracked egg. Death Arms paled.

“I really didn’t mean to hit him that hard. When you called for backup, you sounded desperate. I really thought he could take it.” He looked at his arms, the thing he held the most pride for, in shock and disgust, similarly to how Mt. Lady reacted. 

“He’s not dead.” Mt. Lady went over to the man and comforted him, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking up. 

“He’s not?” Death arms looked confused. While she explained the situation to him, Kamui Woods went over to where the boy was splattered. Already his goo-like body was wiggling and being pulled together. It was kind of gross to look at. 

Kamui Woods grabbed a pair of anti-quirk cuffs, but wasn’t sure how to use it on the boy. Out of the gooey mass a limb started to form so he gently cuffed whatever it was. More limbs started writhing out and the cuff fell to the group. Kamui Woods panicked. Without having anything else he could do, he made a bar-like grid with his roots to try to stop them from forming. The goo started spreading to them and they broke over the force. Death Arms was able to snap out of his grief, and started punching the substance. Kamui Woods got a weird sense of déjà vu about a villain they had fought before and felt a phantom memory of smoke and fire. He hoped that boy was alright.

He snapped out of it when the goo started climbing up Death Arms’ arms. A sickening crack echoed throughout the alley and then screams. Phantom had broken his arms as if they were a toothpick. A black skull started to lurch outside from the rest of the mass. Skin bloomed like mold and covered the emerging body. The zombie-like figure was only mere inches from Death Arms face, his head and elongated neck bobbing back and forth like a snake trying to hold onto the hero's eye contact. Death Arm’s body thrashed despite his injuries as he desperately tried to escape from Phantoms’, no, the monster’s body. Kamui Woods had always known Death Arms to be a brave man, he had never seen the man scream, but today the streak had been broken. He screamed like a scared child. 

Instead of overtaking the rest of the man’s body, it’s neck slithered past him. The goo receded and coagulated at Phantom’s head, then pooled down into the shape of his body. When the last of the slime left Death Arm’s body, the man collapsed and did not get back up. The slime started taking more color and soon the once familiar visage of Phantom was before them. 

“O̷͈͂̔H̸͉̬̀͒ ̴̳͠ͅM̶̺̉͆Y̶̹͊͗ ̸͔͕̚Ĝ̶̗̣O̸͍͎̎͠D̶̰̐ ̵̯̭̉̈́T̵͍̳̊H̴͔͛A̸̢͝Ṭ̸̳̽͝ ̴̪͈̿F̶̰̬͗͐Ĕ̵͔͎̌L̵̼̃̂͜T̶̮͠ ̸̱͐S̸̢̄̈́O̶̦͇̾ ̴͙̖̽W̸̭̔E̵̢̛̎I̵̭͕̅͝Ŕ̴̳̺͂D̵̡͙͋!̷̟̎” He started shaking his hands like he was trying to dry them off. 

Indescribable horror froze the heroes to the ground. Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods could only stare at the creature in terror. That was the only thing they had been able to do all night. He was too powerful for just the two of them to fight alone. Even Endeavor would have a hard time bringing him down. 

Phantom continued to ignore them, laughing and mumbling to himself. He didn’t even see them as a threat. Kamui Woods looked over at Mt. Lady. There were only two options: 

1) Retreat. They have no hope of beating him.

2) Stay and fight. So far Phantom had been only toying with them, but there was no telling how long that will last.

He looked into Mt. Lady’s eyes. They were just as passionate and determined as when the fight first began. They were heroes, of course they would stay and fight. Kamui Woods swore if he made it out of this, he would ask out Mt. Lady.

Phantom turned to them with a smile too big for a human face, it only took a second for it to be blasted off. A jet stream of water came from behind them, knocking Phantom away for the second time that fight. Backdraft and other heroes came pouring into the alley. It is a bad sign when so many heroes are needed for a single foe, but at this moment, Kamui Woods couldn’t be happier to see them. Someone started barking orders but he was too out of it to understand.

They surrounded the area where Phantom landed, but at enough of a distance in case something happens. Phantom was able to recover (of course), and stood before the heroes, something unseen in his eyes. His feet lifted off of the ground, which earned gasps from all around. Kamui Woods no longer had the threshold for any more surprises tonight. Phantom rose higher and higher, till he was looking down on all the heroes. They all braced for his attack…But nothing came. 

Phantom simply turned and flew away, fading into the night like a falling star. A haunting silence filled the alley, the anticipation of what might happen still building. No one dared move from their battle stances. Then like a veil of smoke, it dissipated. It started as a few murmurs then spread into loud conversations and disagreements. In all the ruckus, a few heroes went up to Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady. It was clear to everyone that it must’ve been one hell of a fight. Mt. Lady was quick to snap out of whatever trance the two were still in, and started boasting about how she was able to hold Phantom off. Kamui Woods on the other hand had had too much excitement for the night and went to go sit down against a wall. 

Paramedics and the police arrived on scene and immediately rushed to Death Arms, who still lay unresponsive on the ground. A tense excitement buzzed throughout the alley. No one had come this close to any member of Phantom since the Hosu incident. Kamui Woods thought he had an idea why. It wasn’t a group. It was a single person. 

It was hard to believe it at first, but that's the only thing that made any sense to him right now. Maybe he was too tired from the fight, even now his brain was fighting with him about the fact that a person can only have one quirk. Kamui Woods lifted his helmet slightly to rub his face. 

Nothing was impossible these days. 

★

It was safe to say that Danny had had an eventful night. After he found the portal he was ready to go home (i.e. the shack he called home). Amity Park was still out of his reach, but now he was closer than he ever had been before. The feeling of not wanting to go nagged at him, but he shoved it deeper down. 

He flew over the alleyway, just far enough to still be able to see the heroes below. He didn’t expect so many of them, but then again he supposed he was a wanted ‘criminal’. Typical. There were about 20 heroes down there; more still arriving, and some cops. Danny didn’t know if he would be able to take down all of them. He still didn’t know how powerful he was in this world, it was best not to risk it. He was just lucky these last few times..

He didn’t like running away from a fight and even now a part of him wanted to go back and finish it. That was why he was still so close. He watched the hulk of a man that punched him get loaded onto a stretcher. Serves him right, he thought bitterly. He would survive, just be on bed-rest for a few weeks. 

Danny didn’t know what came over him. The hero wasn’t even able to hurt him, none of them could. Even when the hit sent him flying, Danny couldn’t feel anything. Not even when he collided with the wall. He thinks it was his instincts taking over. His new body scared him. For a second he was gone, he was only aware he was unaware. He came to when he heard the snap. No, it was more than just that. He felt the bones break inside of him. It felt like chewing into hard carrots. Luckily, Danny’s body didn’t try to eat the poor man. He could not handle the trauma that came with eating someone.

Danny also thought back to when that lady punched into his head. He thought it was all over. He felt all fuzzy and confused. It was like when you blew your nose too hard and for too long. It took him a moment to figure out what to do from there, but then he remembered his first night here. His ectoplasm moved outside of him. He just took that sensation and expanded it. Danny didn’t know if he would ever be used to his body. 

He watched the heroes below like ants. They seemed happy enough, most of them going off into little groups and chatting, completely unaware that he was still there. He spotted the two heroes he fought earlier talking to an official looking women in black. They were further away from the others, probably for privacy. The women’s mousey assistant handed them what looked to be a large stack of paper covered in small words. He had no clue what that was about. 

It was clear none of the heroes were going to hunt him or do anything else interesting for the night, so Danny flew away. He started making his way towards the coffee shop from before. Danny didn’t know why, he just thought he needed to go there. Besides, getting a sketchy job wasn’t the worst idea he ever had (that was going in the portal). Maybe when he goes back home his mom and dad might finally be proud of him for a change. 

Danny made sure to memorize the area around to be able to find the portal again. He found a good land marker in the shape of a school or office building (it was hard to tell). It had two interconnected buildings made of glass in the shape of an ‘H’, and a tall concrete fence around it with an arc. It was distinct enough to find again and that's all that really mattered to Danny. It also happened to be pretty close to the coffee shop as well. 

Danny had no trouble finding the little shop. The Coffee & Tea sign greeted him at the window. His glowing form reflected back at him and he jumped back a little. He forgot he looked like that… He stared at himself and took a deep breath for comfort and closed his eyes. He imagined his human face again. After a second, Danny didn’t feel any different, so peeked open an eye to check. Ah there he was, the human him. This level of self-indulgence might be unhealthy, but it made him happy. He looked different this time. There weren’t any veins under his skin and looked less like a corpse. He pulled down his suit a little and was shocked to see the blue fade down further under his shirt. He was getting better at this.

He untied his hoodie from his waist (honestly he was surprised he hadn’t lost it in the fight), and pulled it over. He could say that he was shocked to find that it had a subtle glow to it, but that would be a lie. It had just been in an area with a lot of ectoplasm. It made sense it was a little radioactive. 

“There,” he posed in front of the window, “I look perfectly human.” In this world's standards at least. He shook his hands to get rid of the anxious energy he was building up. He checked himself one more time, then with a final breath, he went up to the door. 

He was about to knock when he stopped instead.  

“Tanaka?” Danny asked unsure at the door before him. He heard several clicks before the door opened. He couldn’t see a person on the other side, just the dark room of the café. 

“Come in, Tommy” A staticky voice sounded from the speaker above. Danny jumped and the flights flicked. He walked in and shut the door behind him, careful not to make any noise. 

It wasn’t like anything bad was gonna happen.

Zzz

A man arrived on the scene. He was a local hero who had become less active in recent years due to his other job as a teacher. His students were still away for internships, so he was able to use his free time for patrols (and avoid personal care no matter how much his husband begged). Principle Nezu gave him a special task to locate the vigilante ‘ group’, “Phantom”, before the Hero Commission , but so far has had no luck. The only leads were rumors, and the supposed sightings were too far apart to check in one night. He was actually in the middle of said search when he got an alert. Unfortunately, the location was across town, so it took him a while to get there. 

Looks like they found him first. 

He grabbed a bottle of eye drops from his pocket and wetted his eyes, an unfortunate side-effect of his quirk. Eye bags were a permanent feature on his face, a marker for how overworked he was. Despite this, his eyes were sharp as he looked over the scene. It was obvious there had been a fight there but the property damage was less than expected for someone as powerful and unknown as Phantom. He walked deeper into the alley where most of the people were. A small dent in the ground caught his eye. It was freshly made judging from the rubble around it, and about the size of a fist. It wasn’t close to the larger craters and so didn’t come from the fight. He kneeled down to get a better look at it. There was nothing of substance in the crater itself, but beside it was a small dirt pile and bug shells. Taking a small bag left over from a snack, he scooped up the dirt. This wasn’t the best way to transport the sample, but it was the only thing he had. He could give this to Principle Nezu so they could figure out what made Phantom respond like this. 

A few heroes looked at him strangely, but didn’t approach him. Despite not being well known (choosing to stay underground for both professional and personal reasons), he still had the reputation of being odd. 

“Eraser Head” A cop approached behind him, Shouta turned to meet their eyes. He recognized him as Tsukauchi Naomasa, All Might’s friend. The man looked more tired since Shouta had last seen him, but that wasn’t really a surprise. His eye bags had started to match his own. The two looked like they could be related. 

“Detective Tsukauchi.” He greeted back. Tsukauchi reached out his hand and Shouta used it to pull himself off of the ground. “I take it All Might has informed you of the situation?” They could use all the help they could get at locating Phantom, and Tsukauchi’s resources would be invaluable.

“No, actually.” The man rubbed his neck, “It was Principle Nezu. All Might has chosen to stay out of this.” That surprised Shouta. It must’ve been clear because the man continued, “He has too many personal matters wrapped up in this, that is all I can say at this time.”

“I see.” All Might would’ve been able to cut down the search time significantly, but Shouta supposed with his decline in strength, that wasn’t the most realistic outcome. “That’s disappointing then.” Regardless of the man’s own feelings, he hopes he would at least still be able to give them information about AFO. No longer wanting to talk about All Might, Shouta moved forward with the conversation, “So what happened tonight?”

“While Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods were on patrol, they got a ‘weird vibe’ from the alleyway and decided to check it out. There they witnessed Phantom use an unidentified quirk, my theory is ectoplasm not to be confused with Ectoplasm’s quirk, and fought him.” A muscle in Shouta’s face twitched, but he was able to keep the rest of his face neutral, only nodding along with Tsukauchi. The man paid no mind to this and kept going, “Fortunately I was able to arrive before the Hero Commission, so they were more willing to share this information.” He stepped closer to Shouta and he mirrored the action. In a hushed voice Tsukauchi whispered, “After the first blow, his head exploded and turned into that same substance.”

Shouta couldn’t help his mouth from dropping. After his shock, his hands clamped into fists. He didn’t know much about Phantom, but from what Principle Nezu had told him, he did not have a good life before. He had to keep a clear head. Rationally he understood where the other heroes were coming from. Phantom was an unknown and could be violent. But to go so far as blowing the kid’s heads off? As the opening blow? That was something Shouta couldn’t understand. 

Tsukauchi looked at him, a look of understanding and pity on his face. He knew Shouta had a soft spot for kids. He coughed a little, and continued on with his report, “His body behaved similarly throughout the fight. Death Arms shortly arrived on scene but had both of his arms broken. Then more heroes arrived to save them both.” 

“Who attacked first?” Shouta interrupted. He could maybe understand if Phantom attacked or was acting aggressively than if he was just standing there. 

“They did.” Tsukauchi handed him a sealed folder, “What I just told you was the shorthanded version. The rest is in the report”

Shouta quickly grabbed the folder and stuffed it into his jumpsuit, “And it’s safe to say the Hero Commission doesn’t know about this?” He was looking forward to reading it. 

“As far as they know, I handed the only report over to Ms. Makoto to be destroyed” A smile spread on his face. They were asking him a lot to go against orders, but Phantom needed to be found. 

The Hero Commission may have made official first contact with him, but that didn’t mean they had him. Both Principle Nezu and Shouta sore they would never get him. In a strange way, they actually did UA a favor. 

There had been reports in the surrounding area but they were sporadic and far out, almost as if Phantom was looking for something, which means he’ll stay close by. This location was in the middle of it. They also confirmed that Phantom wouldn’t attack unless provoked. He really was just a kid… Shouta had to keep focus. 

The Commission also did them a disservice. Now the kid would be more apprehensive around heroes, making Shouta’s job harder. He thanked the detective and the man left. If they were seen interacting too long it would be suspicious. 

It was nearing 3 am, but Shouta still had a long morning of searching ahead of him. He doubted he would find Phantom tonight, but it was smart to strike while the iron is hot. First he had to read the report of course (he was looking forward to how the heroes defended their actions). So much to do at once. He inhaled deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he could already feel a headache coming in. one thing was for certain…

He needed some coffee.

[theskeletoninthegarden]

Since becoming an Eldritch Blade, a knight warlock empowered by the Devil Raphael, Tavrose has dedicated his life to hunting down monsters and eradicating their evils, one way or another. He's managed to build up a bit of a reputation for himself by the time the Mindflayer ship arrives, thieving him from Faerûn and setting him on a fast track towards a dark future...

Age: 40+; Race: Half-Drow, Tiefling; Pronouns: He/They Background: The Haunted One, Class: Eldritch Knight (+ Ranger), Family: Mother, [redacted]; Love Interest: Shadowheart, Astarion; Close Friends: Wyll, Karlach

Relationships:

Raphael: It may concern the reader to consider a relationship with any sort of Devil, handsome or no, desperate or no. But in the case of our hero we have perhaps discovered something...unusual. Raphael must think of Tavrose as some remarkable oddity: a child of [redacted], born of the Lady of Silver...there must have been some slight meant there. But it goes deeper still; why keep Tav alive for so long, on the off chance that something so remarkable should occur. The Devil must be laughing, now. All the same, Tavrose seems found of the Devil, his "old man", and that the Lord does not strike him down for such a term of endearment-- when there are so many other pawns on the playing board to manipulate-- must mean something...

Shadowheart: If Tavrose for a moment would consider the consequences before acting, perhaps Shadowheart would see the intellect in him. The capability. But, no, for every smile there are a dozen eye rolls, a thousand sighs, and, well, you understand. Still. For children of opposing sisters, they hold a considerable amount of deference to one another. If it were not for their Affliction, would the two have met? Would they have ever considered a partnership at all? We will never know. I think if it were not for Tavrose's [redacted] they could find equal footing in regards to further companionship. I believe Tavrose recognizes this, and that jarring reality is too great a thing to consider anything beyond wayward dreaming...

Astarion: There's a warning to be had about putting two sharp tongued bastards in one cage: they either slaughter each other, or break out, kill the jailer, raze the jail, conquer the entire tri-city area-. Tavrose is a shadow of cunning, Astarion the flashing blade hidden within. Both remain on the knife edge of almost certain corruption, and doom for anyone who dare cross their path in the wrong slant of light...but they find quiet in one another. Peace. Otherwise, Gods have Mercy to anyone who dares attempt to separate the two in a violent fashion... I think when considering their pasts, and the choices they will have to make along the road ahead, the two of them remain as the only peoples in the group who have been forced to make dance partners out of true Evil and survived it. If just. Due to this, I find it hard to believe that if one follows a certain path the other will not surely follow.

Wyll: Tavrose admires Wyll, what more is there to say? If Tavrose had remained the child of small magics, growing up on their mother's farm, they would have followed in the same path as the Blade of Frontiers. Considering the possible timeline, we may go far as to say that Wyll would have been inspired by Tavrose! But there is no denying that in this present that both individuals get along famously. Tavrose adores Wyll's unerring heart, his unprejudiced opinion, his natural flourish. Perhaps, if only, Tavrose did not look down upon themself so [redacted], they would also consider--but no. There is also the matter of a certain Devil uncle, ha! Imagine asking that one for Tavrose's hand in marriage. The scandal!

Lae'zel: A Githyanki and a Drow walk into a bar. Five minutes later, they are both ejected for fighting bloody half the clientele, and not a regret may be found... outside of being unable to finish the job. A Half-Drow Tiefling, and a Githyanki of the Abyss, both incredibly capable of warriors, utterly unmatched in a fight, including against one another. The two make excellent sparring partners in a way that is decidedly nasty, but when one or the other needs to let out a bit of aggression, to spill some blood, they know who to look for. They could make remarkable generals one day...

Karlach: Sometimes when a dark mind wallows down a dark path, they can sit with it and sulk, or they can have someone around to shake the laughter out of them. Karlach is the kin Tavrose could used when he [redacted], sadly he ended up with [redacted], and we all know how that turned out, hm? You could almost call them two sides of the same coin, a mere coincidence that they would be Tieflings, though they seem to take a certain amount of joy of liking each other to siblings...if sometimes for the sake of confusing ignorant assuming strangers. All the same, Karlach is unwilling to let Tavrose spiral, and she's proved to be a wonderful influence. Only, once again, Rapael continues to strain relations...

They pretty, your honor.

[glassartpeasants]

Happily Ever After

Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, angst, death, degradation, blow jobs, rough sex maybe idk

A/N: I personally like this one more than I other two I recently did. I was also passing in and out of consciousness while writing this. Not edited cause I'm tired

~~~

Love can make you do crazy things.

Well, that's what your mother always taught you. Never let go of the person you love the most. Because sometimes you'll never know if they will leave you. Her words always stuck with you.

She would tell you stories about knights and princesses who got together to be married. All sorts of stories about where they would live happily ever after. You would always imagine when you would have your happily ever after. The image of having a wedding with the one you love while your father walks you down the aisle constantly replayed in your mind. Having a happily ever after was all you ever wanted!

So when you saw him on the news, you felt as if your heart was jumping out of your chest!

You don't know what made you fall so hard for him, but you didn't care! Was it the baby blue hair? Maybe was it his courage to attack UA? Or how strong the news claimed him to be? Perhaps it was how he managed to gather a group of other villains to go for his cost! You didn't know. All you knew was that you had to have him no matter the cost!

~~~

Being a villain was more difficult than you originally expected.

Sure, you knew that heroes would be after you, but you didn't realize that not all villains are friends with one another. You learned that the hard way after trying to talk to one of them for directions to the nearest gas station.

You couldn't believe how agile they were. You've never run so fast in your life after that. But thankfully, you made it to the gas station in time. They didn't dare come in here for some reason as they gave a look of horror before dashing off after you stepped into the building.

Confused, you just walked around the store to find things to eat. Knowing that when you were going to be a more recognized villain, you wouldn't be able to have the luxury of freely going into gas stations, Even with your quirk.

Your quirk was invisibility. You were able to turn invisible for about 3 hours every twelve hours. Your quirk took up a lot of your energy as you needed to be 100 percent focused when being invisible. If not, there was a chance that you could lose focus and turn visible again.

You heard the door to the gas station open by the sound of the ringing bell that followed suit. Figuring it was nothing, you proceeded to grab some food. Then the smell of burnt flesh hit your nose, and as soon as you were going to hop out of the aisle to see what it could be, a flash of blue flames flew right past you. You immediately knew who could be causing such a flame.

You peaked your head out of the aisle to see the criminal himself, his left arm still smoking. His eyes quickly caught yours before sending a blue fireball your way.

You ran out of the aisle and ducked your head, trying to remain calm and get your thoughts together so you could focus and use your quirk. Another fireball was thrown at you as you were about to turn invisible. Thankfully you ducked in time and ran into yet again another aisle.

You took a deep breath before closing your eyes and standing up. You looked down at your hands only to see nothing there. Mentally congratulating yourself, you slowly tiptoed towards the gas station door. There was smoke everywhere, along with the charred bodies of the people in the store before you. Most of them were innocent people.

Ever since you decided to go down this path of villainy, you never have actually killed anyone before. All you've been doing so far is petty crimes such as stealing, property damage, and an assault on a few assholes who wouldn't stop catcalling people. Seeing all these dead bodies was such a weird feeling, and you honestly didn't know how to describe it.

You couldn't focus on it too long, though. You were still trapped in a gas station with an A-ranked villain. You looked to the door and let out a silent sigh of relief. Freedom was so close that you could taste the fresh air.

"An invisibility quirk aye? Just to let you know it wore off sweetheart." You could feel yourself freeze.

Even if you were in love with his boss, you knew that they were still the highest-ranking villains in the country, and trying to be all buddy-buddy with them on first sighting was an excellent way to get you turned into ash.

"I'll admit, I'm a little impressed. Finally, someone who has actually has a bit of potential." You could hear the sound of his boots behind you before a strong arm grabbed your upper arm.

"Come on, I want you to meet someone." As soon as you were about to say something, the whole world suddenly went black.

~~~

You woke up in a chair in a freezing cold room. Only a small amount of light lit up the entire room making it almost to dark to see anything.

Moving your head from side to side you realized that you were practically stuck in said room. There were no windows at all, the walls were concrete and the door seemed to be closed.

"Ah, you're finally awake. took you long enough."

"What...where am I?"

"That doesn't matter at the moment. For I have someone that wants to talk to you." You hear the sound of a door closing before reopening again.

"So this is the girl you were talking about?" You knew that sound.

It was him!

You couldn't believe that you were truly hearing his voice in person! That and you would get to meet him! Just the thought of being in a room with him made you want to giggle like a school girl.

"Dabi please leave us. I'll talk to you once I'm done here and see if she's worthy."

"Whatever you say, boss man." You could hear him leaving the room, leaving Shigaraki and you alone.

"I looked into your profile just to see who you exactly were. A regular old civilian who accomplished nothing in her life before coming a petty criminal. Why? What made you change your mind?" Oh no. How were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason you went down this path without sounding like a total psycho! Maybe you could twist the truth a little bit? Saying that you thought what he said at USJ was the truth that the world wasn't ready to hear? That it opened up your eyes?

"I saw what happened between you and the USJ incident. While they were talking about what you said, it felt like a revolution to me. Realizing that we live in a society that cares about no one but themselves. If you aren't born with a 'heroic' quirk, you'd be tossed out onto the streets like you were nobody. As sappy as it sounds, that's the reason." You barely slipped in your love for him there but you hoped that twisting things around will do you in favor. You were so close to him that you could even see his red shoes in the dim light.

"Hm, I was expecting you to say something about that stupid hero killer Stain, but I'm pleasantly surprised that it's not." You raised your eyebrow at his words. Hero killer?

You left your home quickly after you saw him on the news. After that, you have barely ever seen the news. That and the newspaper. You were too afraid to get a phone for fear that the heroes would use it to find you.

"Hero killer? I don't know who that is, I haven't even looked at the news in a long time." He looked shocked at your words. You hoped it was the good kind of shock because it sounded like he didn't like Stain.

"Do you not have a phone as well? Have you not even seen the video?"

"No I haven't, the last news outlet thing I've seen was you at the USJ incident."

"That was months ago...how have you managed so far?"

"I'm always on the move so I guess I've just never had the time to look at the news. I try to stray away from the public eye and hero's since my quirk is not the best for fighting and close combat."

"Hmm, I see. But you do seem useful for sneak attacks and stuff like that. We have many close combat and far combat recruits. But we don't have anyone like you yet."

Like you? You could feel your toes curl in your shoes. Was he saying that you were special?! You struggled to not show your excitement.

"O-Oh really?"

"Yes. So I'm pretty sure you know where I'm getting at? We could really benefit from having you on our team."

"I'll join!"

Shigaraki was surprised how you didn't even need to be convinced. You were already so fast to want to join his cause. It was a little admirable but at the same time, a little suspicious. He'd have to keep a close eye on you just to make sure your not up to any fishy business.

"Okay then. Welcome to the League of Villians."

~~~

You couldn't wait till your first mission! You'd be able to be by Shigaraki the entire time and just watch him in real-time instead of on tv!

Every time you got close to Shigaraki, your whole body felt as if it were on fire! You would always get so hot and bothered every time he'd even look in your direction. You didn't understand how anyone could pass him up! He was beautiful in every way! You'd kill anyone that said otherwise!

It wasn't creepy to watch him from afar! Twice didn't know what he was talking about! You were simply learning what he likes and how he acts when he's not fighting the heroes!

You learned that his favorite food is! You learned that he loved video games. Especially the shooter-type games! Maybe if you bought one or stole one for him, maybe he'd want to hang out! So many things to learn about the leader now that he was finally in arms reach!

Did you know that you were absolutely terrible at sneaking? Or did he just know what was going on every single second of the day? He was taught to keep his ears open and listen to the slightest sound.

You sure liked to watch him. It was only raising his suspicion. First, you immediately agreed and now you're watching him like a hawk. He can see you peeking around the corner you know? He also didn't like how it would always be him that you were staring at. Maybe he should ask Dabi what he thinks is going on and what his suggestions are.

"Sounds like she has a thing for you crusty. I don't see how but that's the best guess I've got for you. Watching you like a hawk? Immediately agreeing to join the league? Definitely has a thing for you." Interesting. He has never had someone show interest in him before. While of course, it was a nice change in some parts, taking down hero society is the biggest thing in his life. If he wants to take this route, deciding will change the course on how he goes about destroying society and becoming king of the villains.

~~~

You'd like to think you did pretty well for your first 4 missions! You didn't lose focus not even a single time! You just had to remind yourself that you needed to do this for him! Let him see that you're worth it! Showing him that you were the perfect match for him!

While you guys were walking home from the last mission, Dabi had suggested that you guys should have a few drinks in the celebration that it was successful. Not one to turn down getting along with the rest of the league, you agreed and started talking to Toga about the mission.

Once you all got back to the league, Toga decided to go to bed since her part of the mission was a little more energy-draining than the rest of your guys. The rest of you cracked open a few bottles of whiskey and began to drink the night away.

Dabi passed out on the couch along with Twice. Only you and Shigaraki were left to drink the rest.

Looking at Shigaraki you couldn't help but feel your body become hot once again as the familiar love in your heart for him surfaced.

"Why are you staring at me?" His voice snapped you out of your thoughts as his red eyes meet yours.

"I just can't help it. Your so beautiful." It was too late to realize what you said before it was already out of your mouth. Maybe you shouldn't have downed that much alcohol. I guess it was too late to back out now.

"What?"

"Your just so beautiful It's always so hard to take my eyes off you. I could stare at you for hours and never get bored." You could feel the dopey smile on your face when you said those words. It felt as if your body was floating as you drunkenly confessed your love to him.

You stumbled your way closer to the seat he was sitting at and sat right next to him. He just still continued to stare at you with shock.

"I love you so much! There isn't anything that I wouldn't do for you!"

Shigaraki could see you rubbing your thighs together as you talked to him. Even talking to him or being anywhere near him got you off? You must be crazy if you loved him to that point. But Shigaraki won't lie. It's been a while since he's got any sort of action in the bedroom. Maybe one night wouldn't hurt. Plus after this, he can pretend like it never happened.

"You'd do anything for me?" His question made you feel all giddy inside as you shook your head yes.

"Okay then. Follow me." He got out of his chair and you both walked towards his room. You were finally going in! You've only watched from the outside and now you were going to get a really good like at what his room actually looked like!

It was a little dirtier than you imagined but that didn't bother you much! You noticed all types of games he had and what consoles he owned as well. Maybe sometime you should buy him a few!

You looked behind you and noticed him sit down on his bed. The covers were sprawled all over the bed along with some clothes at the end of the bed.

"Come here." Not one to disobey, you followed his orders.

"On your knees." You did so without a second thought. Was he gonna ask you to suck his dick? Oh, you sure hoped so! The thought of finally being able to touch his skin made your heart beat faster than it ever has before.

You saw him unbutton his pants and pull down his boxers a bit before his dick finally popped out. He was so much bigger than you imagined he would be!

"Suck." He didn't need to tell you twice! You quickly took him in your mouth while looking at him.

You started you pace out slowly just to get used to it. You wanted to be able to take him all in your mouth just to show him you were capable! You could feel every inch of his dick with your tongue.

You felt him grab the back of your head before pushing your head to take him all. You could feel him in your throat as your jaw was pushed to its limits.

He proceeded to grab a fist full of hair before using your head as his own personal fleshlight. Of course, you weren't complaining. If this meant he was feeling amazing, you would endure anything he wanted you to!

The feeling of him twitching in your mouth was the only warning you were given before you felt him shoot ropes of cum down your throat. When he pulled out of your mouth you coughed as you try and gain some air. His taste is still on your tongue as he pulls you to the bed.

"Now strip slut." You did what he asked and quickly took off your tank top along with your bra. You were about to take off your pants but Shigaraki dusted them before you could. That and your panties as well.

"You're taking too long." Now, hovering over you, you looked into his eyes even better. They were so beautiful and you would look into them forever if you could. His face made your cheeks hot as you finally got the best look at his face. Every scar told a story to you and it only showed how far he'd come.

You could feel his hands grab your thighs tightly with his pinkie up. His breath fanned across your face before scooting even closer towards you. His body between your legs as you could feel yourself becoming wetter by the mere second.

Shigaraki grabbed his pants before throwing them off to an unknown corner of the room. His boxers went down to mid-thigh. Was this finally happening? Would you finally be able to feel him inside you after imagining it for so long?

You could feel him rub the head of his cock against your cunt. You bucked your hips trying to get more friction only for them to be slammed down by strong hands.

"Beg."

"Please! I'll do anything! I just want to feel you inside me! I want you to fuck me until I can't even thing straight! Please Shigaraki-" You let out a gasp for air when he harshly shoved his cock into your cunt.

He was so big you swore he was going to spilt you in two! He always managed to fit all of it inside you with each harsh thrust. You loved how harsh he was with you! How he pounded into your cunt like his life depended on it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your nails into his back. You were determined to leave something on him. To prove that you were the one who made him feel this way!

The feeling of you becoming undone as you tightened around him caused both of you guys to let out a moan. The feeling of him pounding against that spot inside of you finally turned you over the edge as you dug your nails into his back, leaving deep scratches.

He was gripping your thighs so tightly that you swore that you'd have bruises for days afterward. You didn't mind though. Waking up in the morning only to see the bruises he would leave on your hips would be the best gift anyone has ever given you!

You could hear him panting before his hips stuttered and he stilled inside you. His cum filled up your entire cunt and leaked out when he left your hole.

You were smiling ear to ear. This could be the start of those fairytales your mother told you about! You would be able to live happily ever after with your villainous prince!

You were dragged out of your thoughts when you felt a hand clasp around your throat. Was he into choking? That's okay! He could try anything on you and you wouldn't say a word! You looked into his eyes but instead of seeing the lustful ones you saw moments prior, they looked to be conflicted before sadness quickly replaced it before going emotionless.

His grip on your throat tightened as he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry my dear, maybe in another life, we could be together. But for now, I can't have someone in my way. I hope you understand." You didn't understand what was going on before you felt all his fingers placed against your throat.

An unspeakable pain surged through your body as you tried to scream in pain only for it to be silenced as his decay took over your body. Your eyes could only focus on your body as it decayed away.

You didn't understand. You did everything right? You played by the rules, you broke the rules, all to be with him. You cheered him on from afar! You were the one who did whatever he asked without a second thought!

He took away your life after showing him all the love you had to give. So why did it not work out? Why, after all of this, is the way you go out? What did you do to deserve this?

You could feel painful tears stream down your face before you let out a last pained gasp before your whole world turned dark. How humiliating to go out in such a way. It wasn't fair. Everyone got their happily ever after,

so why couldn't you?

[strawwritesfic]

Steve Rogers x Reader: Enlightened

Summary: The ending of one story only leads into the beginning of another.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (cemeteries; funerals; grief; mourning; Man Out Of Time!Steve; post-Avengers (2012); pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; mild language; Dugan!Reader; meet-cute)

Challenge: "120 Bits of Random" challenge by SugarLandBabyGirl on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Enlightened

Another day, another graveyard, another difficult-to-sit-through ceremony. Steve might have missed most of his old friends’ funerals while he slept under several feet of snow and ice, but he was making up a lot of lost time now. It felt to him as though not a single weekend passed that didn’t find him driving his motorcycle somewhere in the continental U.S. to visit the tombstone of someone he had known once upon a different time.

He could have–should have–taken the opportunity to properly mourn those he had lost, but he was far too busy. After all the pomp and circumstance wrapped up, reporters thronged around him, ignoring the true hero newly buried in order to ask Steve questions.  Then there were family members that wanted to express gratitude for what he had done seventy years ago (or anger at the crowd of reporters that followed him like a cloud of flies), and onlookers that requested autographs. No matter what someone wanted, Steve didn’t know how to refuse. He often remained at the cemetery long after he was schedule to be there.

He didn’t think that night would be any different. Frantic for some alone time, he waved off his few hangers-on. The distant sounds of car doors slamming and limousines driving away filled the air as Steve walked slowly through the trees in a winding path he could barely see through the orange light of sunset.

It pained him to think that he should have been buried there, too. He was starting to get used to living seventy years after he’d last been awake, but visiting his past didn’t help him with accepting his own continued existence. Fury said Steve could be a massive asset in the present day; after the Battle of New York, Steve couldn’t deny that. 

But he also could not deny that he missed the Howling Commandoes more than he could articulate to anyone he knew. Clint would try to sympathize. Tony would probably laugh. Natasha would listen, then promptly sign Steve up for a month of psychiatry evaluations. None of that sounded appealing, so Steve kept his feelings to himself.

As he mulled over his continued loneliness, he heard sniffling. He came to a halt beside the grave he had come to visit that very day. No one was there. A few  seconds later, he heard the noise again. Someone was definitely crying in the near vicinity.

“Hello?” he called into the little alcove of bushes nearby. “Is anyone there? Are you okay?”

Someone out of sight whispered “shit.” Before he could hastily try to patch the awkward moment over, a person he didn’t recognize wandered out of the shadows, red-eyed and looking sheepish. 

Steve wracked his brains as the two of you stared at each other, but no. He truly couldn’t remember seeing you anywhere before. Were you there for a burial being done elsewhere on the grounds? Had he interrupted your mourning? 

You smiled into the awkward silence. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Steve frowned. “Are you all right? Are you lost? There’s nothing going around here anymore. I can help you find your way back, if you want.”

Your smile grew a little wider, more genuine, but altogether you looked even sadder than when you’d first stumbled into the open. “No, I’m in the right place. I came to say goodbye to my grandpa.”

“Your–” Steve glanced at the tombstone than back to you.

“Yeah. Timothy ‘Dum-Dum’ Dugan. He was a good man.”

“I know. I worked with him back during World War II.”

“You worked with–” Your mouth fell open. “But that means–you must be…”

“Captain Steve Rogers,” said Steve. He offered you a hand, and you took it.

“Wow,” you breathed. “Grandpa always said the sun shone out of your ass. Never stopped talking about how great you were, or what a shame it was they lost you.”

“Not too big a shame. They won the war just fine without me.”

“I think it was more you they missed than all the heroics. Grandpa only died two weeks ago,” you added in a quieter voice. “He kept saying you’d get around to visiting him sooner or later.”

“I–”

“Don’t apologize. He understood you were busy. After everything that happened in New York, it’s nice that you made time to come all the way out here to see him off. I’m [F Name] [L Name], by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Steve.

You wandered past him to give the gravestone a pat. Another few sniffles punctuated the silence. Steve wondered if you didn’t mean for him to slip off silently while your back was turned. Unsure, he loitered there until you turned to face him again.

“Well,” you tried to laugh the word, but it came out wet, “I’ll let you get back to your hero stuff. Sorry I interrupted.”

Steve nodded. After a last wipe of your sleeve across your eyes, you flashed him a final grin before you wandered back up the path. 

Silence rang in the air once you walked away. Steve looked from the name engraved in front of him, to your rapidly-disappearing silhouette, back again, and back once more. Only then did it occur to him that the past wasn’t completely gone. It still existed in relics, in those who had known his old friends...

...but one of those people would soon be exiting Steve’s life as quickly as they had come into it.

“[Name]!” he called, rushing after you. 

You paused and looked over your shoulder at him. 

“Do you want to go to dinner? We could talk about your grandfather. And anything else that might come to mind.”

Slowly, another, warmer smile spread across your face. “I’d love that.”

[redorich]

A favorite trope of mine has always been- getting to see another person’s past. Is it some kind of judgment thing by a higher power? Something like Freeze Day from SCTFOE? Person trapped in a nightmare and their nightmare is being projected? Who knows. All that’s important is after months of healing, some of the Hermits get to see exactly what Tommy went through. It shows short clips of him before being happy, the rise and fall of Manburg, Wilbur going insane, the festival, the withers, all of it. Just short clips of these things though. The last clip of the SMP is just Dream’s mask outlined by his green hood saying, “you’ll stay here alone with just me until you learn to be quite and respectful and not fight those who are in power over you. Even if you have to stay out here *forever*.”

This turned into a whole drabble smh xD

((btw @give-grian-rights helped me so thank you))

-------

The remaining hermits aren’t sure what happened. They have no way of knowing. There was a witch involved, Cub thinks, but what their fallen friends must have done to piss her off to the point of getting cursed is beyond their ken. Among those laid out are Cleo, Grian, Xisuma, Zedaph, and Tommy.

Scar and Cub work their Vex magic together to figure out that their friends are trapped in their worst memories. (Etho calls it a Demonic Hell Viewing Illusion, and False smacks him upside the head for the Naruto reference.) Holding hands with a victim pulls you in, but that’s what they’re counting on. Joe’s already wading through Cleo’s nightmare before anyone gets the chance to ask, and Impulse and Tango aren’t far behind doing the same for Zedaph. However, it doesn’t work for Grian, Xisuma, and Tommy; they were found already holding hands. They must have figured something out about the curse before they succumbed to it. All the hermits can do for them, for the time being, is hope.

Tommy, Grian, and Xisuma wake to the smell of sulphur and smoke. The ground is orange and littered with bullets. Grian grabs Tommy’s hand, and Xisuma grabs a discarded rifle. Tommy points his finger up at the top of a mound of scrap metal and dead bodies. There’s a nether portal, except the obsidian is whiter than quartz. That's where they have to go to get out of here.

All around them, demons lurch and shriek and hiss and all sorts of unholy behavior, bodily flinging themselves at the trio as though they know none of them can take the men on their own, and that just by dogpiling them all one of them will get lucky. Xisuma instantly snaps into a professional mode, the way he sometimes does when he's killing zombies but they keep social spawning. He takes up the lead with machine gun fire and grenades, carving a path through the crowd. Grian takes up the rear with a handgun. Neither Xisuma nor Tommy ask why Grian is so comfortable with a gun. They've got more pressing issues.

An imp gets lucky. It's just enough to crack the visor of Xisuma's helmet, and the imp instantly gets mowed down.

"I can't see," Xisuma rasps through gritted teeth.

"Then take the helmet off," Tommy says, cleaving through an enemy with a sharp piece of scrap metal. Grian breathes in sharply. As far as Grian's aware, Xisuma always wears his helmet.

Xisuma goes quiet for a second. "I suppose you've got a point."

The helmet gets dropped to the ground and demon limbs shuffle it away. They don't have time to look at Xisuma's wild brown hair, his purple eyes, the burn scars on his jaw.

They make it to the portal all in one piece. Xisuma takes one last wistful look at the Martian hellscape, then takes his friends' hands. They step through the portal together.

----

They step out of the portal into the foyer of a high school. Grian's eyes shutter.

"We'll be headed toward the roof, I believe," he says, staring dully through the spectre of a broken, bloody man holding a rope.

Tommy latches onto Grian's clammy hand to ground him as the three ascend stairs and traverse the dark, winding hallways. The ghost follows them. It isn't like Ghostbur-- it's, well, not vengeful, but it's not kind. The man named Gareth keens about Grian's sins, about a boy named Taurtis who Gareth hates, about mafia and yakuza, about his poor wife Jane.

On the last set of stairs, Gareth makes a wailing remark that causes Grian to bodily flinch. Tommy doesn't even know what the ghost said (he wasn't listening).

"Fuck off," Tommy says, "you're the shittest ghost I've ever met. Even my brother could..."

He trails off. This is not the way to fix things for Grian. On a hunch, he reaches into his pocket. Of course the object he's looking for is in there; it's his brother's coat.

He holds the object out to the ghost. "Have some blue."

Gareth warily takes it, dropping his rope. It floods periwinkle, then cyan, then dark royal blue. A weight seems lifted from the ghost's shoulders as he clutches the blue, mutters something about Jane, and leaves.

Tommy takes Grian's hand, then Xisuma's, and they go through the door to the school's rooftop together. They halt as one. The portal is there. Standing between them is a boy maybe Tommy's age, with a corpse at his feet.

"Sam," Grian whispers. "Taurtis."

The standing boy smiles, eyes obscured by a purple mask with a rectangular symbol on it, and flexes bloody wings. The corpse on the ground has blood all over its back, where wings once were, and broken headphones around his neck.

"Man, Grian, you really held out on me," Sam says. "This Watcher power really is something else--"

Sam topples over backward. His body hits the ground in front of the portal. Xisuma lowers his gun.

"He looked like bad news," Xisuma says.

Grian grimaces. "He was. Come on, let's go."

They once again step into the portal.

----

“Do you want to be a hero, Tommy?” Technoblade roars, “Then die like one!”

Their paltry little group of three gets no chance to take in their surroundings, to see what’s going on and where they need to go. All they can process is the legendary PvP champion, acolyte of the Blood God, Technoblade, unleashing Withers upon what once might have been a town.

Tommy yanks them into cover. “I don’t know where the portal is,” he hisses.

Grian squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll find it.”

Explosions rain hellfire down upon them from all angles-- not just the Withers, but TNT buried in the ground. They’re so close, they can see the man who set it off. And he must have, because he’s yelling about it, yelling about his L’Manberg and his unfinished symphony and begging his father to kill him. He’s wearing Tommy’s coat--

Bile rises in the back of Grian’s throat. Tommy wears his brother’s coat.

Tommy’s eyes are glued to the gleaming diamond sword that Wilbur gives to his father. He watches his brother die all over again, and he knows where he must go. He turns his back on his broken family and breathes.

“We need to go to the Nether,” he says. They nod.

The black portal is across the battlefield. They come across corpses more than once on their way, but ignore them. They can’t afford not to.

In the Nether, there is a rickety, dangerous pathway with no rails, made of cobblestone and obsidian and oak logs. Manic-depressive ravings on signs proclaim the path as the road to Logstedshire. Piglins try to knock them off to no avail, and ghasts blow up the bridge behind them as they run. On the other side of the Logstedshire portal is... actually not a hellscape, as Grian and Xisuma have come to expect, but a little village encampment. Nothing is blown up, nothing is amiss, except Tommy himself. And, of course, the figure they spot after they catch Tommy staring at it.

It’s Dream. The up-and-coming famous speedrunner who Grian faintly recalls killing once in MCC, which was apparently a big deal. The man approaches, and Grian realizes where he recognizes the mask from. It’s the same one that Tommy wears.

“Tommy,” Dream says conversationally, “items in the pit.”

Tommy’s hand wavers, reaches up to unclasp his chestplate, but Xisuma’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“No,” Tommy says.

“No?” Dream parrots incredulously. “You know the rules. It’s for your own good. Armor in the pit. Tools in the pit. Friends in the pit.”

They all gasp, though for different reasons. Tommy’s eyes narrow. “Friends in the pit? You’ve never said that one before.”

Dream’s head twitches. “Friends in the pit. Friends. In the pit.”

The man’s voice is deeper than Tommy remembers. Something seems to resolve within Dream’s behavior, yet he keeps twitching. “You’re in exile, Tommy, you don’t need. Friends. I’m all you need. You were doing so good. I thought you learned to behave. I’m all you need. You don’t need friends.”

What happened to the eloquent poison that used to drip from Dream’s tongue like honey? He sounds like a broken record. All at once, Tommy staggers under the weight of the realization that this isn’t Dream. Somewhere underneath that horrible man that abused him is the real Dream, trapped in his own body and watching the dreamon that possessed him hurt his friends.

Xisuma’s gun makes an appearance again, but Tommy holds up a hand in a silent request for the admin to hold his fire. Tommy grabs Dream by the shoulders, removes Dream’s mask and then his own so that he can look the man in the eyes. “I know you’re in there, Dream. When I get out of this nightmare, I’ll save you. I swear it on my discs.”

Dream’s face twitches erratically. The movement spreads to his whole head, neck jerking. He raises straight up into the air, higher and higher, then explodes into a shower of items and no body. A white portal shimmers into existence.

“What the hell was that?!” Grian demands.

Tommy grins, taking the man’s hand and leading him to the portal. “I’ve got a friend to save.”

Grian snarls. “Tommy, he abused you. He’s not your friend.”

“That wasn’t Dream. It was a--”

“Dreamon,” Xisuma breathes.

Tommy nods. They walk through the portal together, and when they wake, holding each other close, they know they’ve got a mission. They can do it.

[evilvarric666-archive]

its crazy how we can get so many diff things from the same story like thats real proof of how multifaceted multilayered and cunty this story is.. like. im walking while i write this and not checking it twice so it might end up making no fucking cents but. ive always seen dao as a game about (among other things) rebirth and its one of the main reasons why im still so in love with it.. like the best origins ACTUALLY start with a baptism of blood for the wardens.. brosca is born and recognized as an actual person in the surface but that could only happen after their baptism of blood (the proving in a minor way, but mainly the murder of behrat by their own hands, them emerging from the surface coated not only in remnants of the blood of the warrior and noble caste from the proving but mainly bathed in behrats blood, the remains of the dwarf that was a living reminder of how, in the eyes of orzammar, they would never be considered a person, only property, only a tool). through their blood, though his death, rebirth. like the fact tht they get their autonomy, their agency, the thing that literally separates a person from a possession AFTER the death of behrat and their ascension to the surface. them carving themselves a path out with THEIR OWN HANDS, THE LATENT BELIEF THAT LIFE HAS TO BE SOMETHING MORE, AND THEIR DESIRE TO LIVE AND BE RECOGNIZED, EVEN IF THEY HAD TO FORCE PEOPLE TO RECOGNIZE THEM AS A PERSON, but ultimately getting to leave their old inhuman existence behind through the help of others(1/?)

(2/?)brosca only getting collectively recognized as a person after going to the surface, the place where not only do they get to see real light and breathe fresh air, and actually FEEL unabashedly for the first time in their entire life, but also where they get to feel how its like to be treated like a regular individual. the first place where they are treated kindly and decently. brosca having to face the reality of their own latent mortality firsthand during the very same night of the day they arrive at ostagar. and them getting to experience the fullness and complexity of life and emotion, and the power that lies in them, only during the first blight, a time that is supposed to be the most hopeless and horrifying of times, but that is instead experienced by them as the year where they discovered not only themselves as a person through love, kindness and companionship, but also others. like dragon age origins is literally Life: the speedrun for some of the characters and the player. some of these mfs never got to live or be people before the events of dao. morrigan, zevran and brosca are reborn through other people's love and active recognition of their humanity. alistair only had a real sense of identity for the first time when duncan chose him and took him away and that stayed with him as an act of love. wynne was reborn when she fused with faith and she describes this new state of existence as "constantly feeling loved". oghren got another chance at life in the surface, and was reborn as a "hero" and later on, as a grey warden. sten "dies" when he loses his sword, becomes someone different and goes back home a changed man, despite looking the same. shale is murdered and put through literal hell by having her body turned into a literal tool, her identity and sense of personhood lost in the transformation and through others treatment of her as a tool. she spends years living as an object before being born again during the fifth blight, the first time ever she is allowed agency, gets her memories of her old life, is treated, loved, and recognized as a person, and chooses her own path for the first time ever.

(3/3)leliana dying after her torture and actually being reborn as a person due to the love that she found in the chantry. and the truth that rebirth, personhood, identity and humanity are not ever truly reached through violence.. always through courage, love and acceptance. i said v little abt zev and morrigan but like. morrigan's example being quite literally breaking free of her old life as her mother's tool, learning how to be a person, her own person, and being recognized and loved as one and not seen as something wicked and inhuman for the first time, and having the symbol of her humanity, identity and personhood returned to her (the mirror), just to end her story by her loving someone so much that she sacrifices her new life just to allow them to continue living. zev's rebirth as a person kinda mirrors morrigans, but it always drives me crazy how its like. recognized by the narrative as him actually choosing his identity as the black shadow after the fifth blight. like actual rebirth through love happens there, this actually being validated by taliesins line of "does zevran need to live?". the jarring difference between brosca and leske during their return to orzammar and the fact that zev mustve felt the same when he encountered taliesin again. the fact that both taliesin and leske are both the doubles and mirror/inverted images of zev and brosca, and that looking at them must've felt like looking at their won corpse. anyways something something humanity is only reached through love something something phoenix rises from the ashes etc. like the way that dao is both a story of rebirth and a love story because those two things are one and the same due to the deeply transformative nature of love, real love... this game fucks severely it sucks so fucking bad that dai was pure ass. umm anyways i forgot where i was going with this & its prolly unintelligible but umm. im a huge fan of your da posts especially the unhinged ones <3

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter eleven rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt

The next morning at 6 am, you got in a taxi and made your way to the airport. You packed up all your clothes the night before and told MJ to ship anything else to you. You figured if you waited until a few months, things between you and Peter would be settled and it wouldn’t be too awkward. Or sad. You mainly felt sad.

The sun was rising and your cab sat in stand still traffic. You wiped a few stray tears and looked out the window. You noticed a few people standing by the edge of the highway, taking pictures of the bridge. You couldn’t see because of the glare of the sun in your eyes. You figured it was a sky writer or something like that. But then you noticed people getting out of their cars to take pictures.

“What’s going on?” You asked the cab driver. He turned around. He was an older man with grey hair and thin, black tinted sunglasses. A kind smile poked out from under his mustache.

“There’s something written on the bridge.” He answered.

“Something on the bridge?” You asked.

“See for yourself. We’re not moving anytime soon.”

You got out of the car and squinted in the bridge. Your heart immediately stopped at what you saw. You walked towards the edge of the highway and leaned against the railing. Tears trickled down your eyes, happy ones this time. You blinked them away, not wanting anything to obstruct your view of the bridge.

There on the bridge in big webbed letters spelled out the undeniable phrase:

I LOVE YOU

Just as you were admiring it, Spider-Man swung down and swept you up in his arms. You heard applause and cheering as you two swung away. You held on tightly, as did Spider-Man. He landed on the top of one of the posts of the bridge and set you down, never taking his arms off of your waist. Likewise, you kept your arms around his neck and pressed your body close.

Peter quickly took off his mask and smiled at you. His eyes were puffy, surely from crying. But the loving look in his eyes remained.

“Did you get my message?” He asked excitedly.

“What message?” You played coy.

“On the bridge.” Peter said, not detecting your sarcasm.

“Oh, that was you? I couldn’t make it out. What did it say?” You asked. You knew exactly what it said.

“It said I love you.” Peter said proudly. “It was gonna say ‘I love you Y/n L/n please don’t move to San Francisco’ but I was on a time crunch and it’s very hard to write things on a bridge in webs. I practiced on the Brooklyn Bridge first and I accidentally wrote ‘I larb you.’ But that wasn’t what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say is, you’re wrong. You’re wrong about us being on different paths. We’re not on different paths, Y/n. Because you’re my path. I’ll give up Spider-Man. He means nothing to me if I don’t have you. I mean it. You and I are meant to be. If I know anything at all to be true, it’s that. I can’t imagine life without you. So if you go to San Francisco, I’m coming too. Hell, wherever you go, I’m coming too. They have crime in San Francisco, right? What I’m trying to say is, I love you, Y/n L/n. I am so in love with you. And nothing can keep me away.” Peter professed. You held him tighter and pressed your nose into his.

“I love you too, Peter Parker.” You whispered. “With all my heart.”

“Then will you stay with me? Or allow me to come with you?” Peter asked hopefully.

How could you say no? Every time you thought you could shut the door on Peter, he found a window.

“The world is rooting against us Peter.” You said. His face fell and his grip on your hips loosened. “But if it’s you and me against the world, then so be it.”

Peters smile lit up his entire face when you finished your sentence. He dipped you and kissed you passionately.

“I love you. I love you so much. I can never say it enough.” Peter said as he pressed kisses into your neck.

“I love you too.” You said back. You knew you should feel terrified given your fear of heights, but you couldn’t feel safer in Peters iron grip.

“Can we go home? I need to hold you for an entire day to make up for the time we were broken up.” Peter asked. You laughed.

“We were broken up for less than 8 hours.” You reminded him.

“8 hours of pure torture.” He fake gasped.

“Come on. Let’s get your stuff from the cab and go home. Did I mention you’re moving in? And that we’re getting married? Also what are we naming our children? Do you want it get a cat together?” Peter joked as he tightened his grip around your waist. A part of you hoped he wasn’t joking though. You wanted that with Peter. All of that. Even that cat.

“Does our apartment even allow cats?” You laughed.

“No.” He shook his head. “But if my baby wants one, we’ll get one. I want to start our lives now. I don’t want to miss another second apart from you. I’m serious. Never leave me again.” Peter said, tugging you into a tight hug. He nuzzled into your neck and pressed soft kisses there.

“I won’t. I won’t ever. I promise.”

Peter swung you back to the apartment after collecting your things from the cab. You spent the day in Peters bed just cuddling and talking about all the things you never could before.

“And then he told me you were going back to San Francisco to be with him.” Peter laughed as he told you about his encounter with Andy.

“I can’t believe he lied to you like that.” You shook your head. “He’s such an idiot.”

“He would’ve been a dead idiot if I had known he kissed you.” Peter joked.

“Hm. And I thought I was the only killer here.” You smirked as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“What are your powers?” Peter asked as he brushed your hair out of your face. You kissed his thumb lightly.

“Same as you. Super strength, super hearing, climbing walls. And I have acid spit and resistivity to bullets. But I don’t have your uh…Peter tingle.” You told him. Peter chuckled softly.

“It’s called my spidey sense.” Peter corrected.

“That’s really not much better than Peter tingle.” You teased.

“Shut up. What about your weaknesses?” Peter asked. You toyed with his fingers.

“Fire. And sound. We hate sound.” You said.

“All sounds?” Peter asked curiously.

“No. Not all sounds. Just loud ones. Car alarms, feedback, amps, things like that.” You answered.

“What happens to you when you encounter fire or sound?”

“What’s with all the questions? You’re not trying to take me down, are you?” You teased. Peter laughed and shook his head.

“No. I just want to know everything about you.”

“Well sound makes Venom separate from me. And fire kills.” You said, remembering that night on Carlton Drakes rocket when the fire killed him and Riot.

“Both of you die?” He asked nervously.

“Both of us. Venom and I keep each other alive. If we were separated, we’d both die.” You told Peter. Peter looked at the ceiling with a weird look on his face. His heart was beating extremely fast. You took it as him being scared of you dying.

“But don’t worry about that. Venom and I are never going to be separated. No one knows our weaknesses.” You assured Peter. You felt a little strange sharing all your weaknesses with your former enemy, but you knew Peter would never try to hurt you it use them against you.

“What about you? What are your weaknesses?” You asked.

“You.” Peter smiled. You smiled back before something shiny in his closet caught your eye.

“Is that a keyboard?” You asked as you sat up and went into his closet. Peter sat up as well and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, yeah. I used to play when I was younger. My uncle taught me. Do you play?”

You retrieved the keyboard and sat on Peters bed, answered his question by playing a few notes. Peter scooted next to you and slipped an arm around your waist.

“Play me something.” Peter said softly. It wasn’t demanding, it was a sweet request.

“I haven’t in so long.” You muttered as you began to press down on a few random keys. The keyboard made strangled sounds at first until you slowly began playing a song you had fallen in love with.

“I, I’ve carried this song in my mind. Listen, it’s echoing in me. But I haven’t helped you to hear it.”

You sang softly as you got the hang of playing the keyboard again. Peter looked wonderstruck at you. He didn’t know you had such a lovely voice. He didn’t recognize the song but he wanted to hear you play forever.

“We, we’ve only got so much time. I’m pretty sure it would kill me if you didn’t know the pieces of me are pieces of you.”

You sang with a little more confidence as the song progressed. Your voice wasn’t great but it was everything and more to Peter. Peter began to pick up on the pattern you were playing and softly rested his hands on the keys on his side.

“I’ve waited way too long to say everything you mean to me.” you dragged out the last note before going all in on the keyboard.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now. I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around.” You looked into Peters eyes and he looked deeply into yours. He leaned in so that his lips ghosted yours, but never touched.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. I’m everything that I am because of you.”

You felt tears of joy pricking at your eyes. Peter felt it too. The moment was pure bliss. It was just you and the boy you loved. Nothing could ruin it.

“I have a hero whenever I need one. I just look up to you and I see one. I’m a man ‘cause you taught me to be one.”

Peter liked the hero line. It made the song perfect, like it was written just for the two of you. He had begun to play along with you and you finished out the song together, never breaking eye contact.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. As long as I’m here as I am, so are you.” You finished. You and Peter took your hands off the keyboard and immediately pulled the other into a kiss. The keyboard fell to the floor with a clang but you didn’t even hear it.

“I love you. More than anything this world has to offer.” Peter said against your lips. You smiled and kissed him again. He tasted like strawberry chapstick this time. It was yours. He must’ve swiped it from you one day. You didn’t mind.

“Did you steal my chapstick?” You giggled against his mouth.

“Yes. But you stole my heart. Fair trade.” He argued playfully. You laughed and kissed his cheeks.

“It’s okay. You can keep it. What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is ours.” You told him as you ran your fingers through his chestnut hair.

“That’s so cute.” Peter whined.

“I know. I stole it from the Little Rascals.” You admitted sheepishly. He hit you with his pillow before tackling you onto the bed.

You spent the remainder of the day just like that until you had to leave for your final interview with Cletus Kasady.

“Y/n! My favorite gal. Sit down. I have so much to tell you. I got something real good for your story.” Cletus said upon your entry into his cell. You’d been interviewing him for about three months now. It was almost July and you two met in April. You had come to trust him and no longer needed a security guard to stand in the room with you while you talked. You also graduated from talking through those glass windows with telephones on either side to being allowed into his cell. He was still handcuffed to his chair and kept in a cage, so you had no fear of him harming you. You’d actually come to like him in a way. Sure, he killed people, but so had you. He was still charismatic and made you laugh every now and then.

“Nice to see you Cletus. What do you have to tell me?” You asked as you took a seat. Your eyes wandered to the partial wall at the bottom of his cage. You had grown accustomed to his habit of writing on his cell walls with his own blood, but this particular message made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In big bloody letters it read:

WELCOME VENOM

You swallowed despite your throat being bone dry. Cletus gave you his signature smirk.

“I got me a bug. Just like you.” He drawled. He smiled at your proudly. You felt yourself beginning to sweat.

“A bug?” You asked.

“Are you familiar with the concept of asexual reproduction?” Cletus questioned. You nodded.

“Yes. It’s what plants do. Why?” You asked back. Where was he going with this?

“Not just plants. Symbiotes too.” Cletus stated. Your body went cold with fear. You immediately felt uneasy with the way he was looking at you. He didn’t blink, and had his face frozen with that smirk.

“Y/n.” Venom said cautiously. She held your hand and gripped it tightly for comfort.

“I’m sorry?” You asked. Your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Yup. And sometimes, they don’t even know when they asexually reproduce. It could happen anywhere. Even in a prison cell.” Cletus continued. You began to piece together the story. Cletus suddenly leaned forward, as far as he could go with his restraints and lowered his voice.

“You and I are no different. We’re both killers. But you get to roam the streets freely while we’re stuck in here, starving. Does that sound fair?” Cletus asked. His eyes weren’t his anymore. They were milky white and bulging. You scooted your chair back in fear.

“No.” You said. You didn’t want to anger him so you agreed with him.

“No. It’s not. That’s why we’re breaking out of here. And when we do, there’s gonna be Carnage.” Cletus smirked, his eyes back to normal now. You trembled slightly.

Cletus Kasady had a symbiote of his own. One that was stronger and deadly than yours. At least Venom bonded to a reporter with morals. Carnage bonded with a serial killer. They made for a lethal combination and you knew you couldn’t stop the havoc that was coming.

“We want you to join us, Y/n.” Cleatus drawled. “You and Venom. Imagine the power we could have. The city would be ours. We could do whatever we want.”

You felt sweat running down the sides of your face as you carefully thought out what you said next.

“Thank you for the offer, but we have to decline. We’re not like you. We only kill very bad people. Cletus, you killed 17 women just because they resembled the girl who broke your heart in high school. We don’t see things the same way.” You told him slowly. Cletus’s face fell.

“I thought you were my friend. I don’t have any friends in here. Nobody wants to be friends with a serial killer. The only person who was ever nice to me was you.” Cletus said sadly. You let out a shaky breath. You felt a little sorry for him, despite his lethal intentions.

“I know and I’m sorry. But Venom and I aren’t killers.” You said in your calmest tone.

“Yes, you are. Whether you like it or not, you will always have to kill to feed. You’ve been a good person your whole life, Y/n. What has it gotten you? You told me about your parents. Did being a good person keep them alive? And what about Andy? You exposed Carlton Drake because you’re a good person, and Andy still broke up with you. Why not throw your morals away and just be the monster you were meant to be?” Cletus persuaded. Your fear turned to sadness quickly and hot tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I am not a monster.” You said angrily. “We are not a monster.”

“But you are. The sooner you realize it, the freer you’ll be. It’s your choice.” Cletus shrugged.

“We choose to be good.” You said firmly. Cletus gave you a disappointed nod.

“Carnage told me you’d say that. I told him you were different. I guess I was wrong. I’m going to be sorry to see you go.” Cletus said sadly.

“See me go?” You asked.

“Carnage said anyone who stands in the way must die. That means you, Venom, Spider-Man, and anyone else who tries to stop us from taking over New York.”

You felt sick to your stomach. Killing you was one thing, but Spider-Man? Peter hadn’t done anything to Carnage. Why was Peter a Target?

“Please don’t hurt Spider-Man. You can kill me but please, don’t touch him.” You begged. Cletus smirked.

“Looks like Carnage was right about that too.” Cletus chuckled.

“Right about what?” You asked. Cletus seemed to be conversing with Carnage in his head.

“Right about there being something going on between you and Spider-Man. I’ll do my best to keep Carnage away from him, but I don’t have much control. So no promises. Even though you let me down, I have a liking for you Y/n. You knew what I did to those women and you still agreed to write an article on me and hear my side of the story. Most people wanted to lock me up and throw away the key. Not you. You listened. We won’t hurt him. But we want a deal.” Cletus stated.

“What deal?” You asked bitterly.

“We want a battle. A fair one. Venom vs. Carnage. If you win, we’ll go back to Klyntar. But if we win, you become apart of our team and we destroy New York together, starting with everyone who got me thrown in this hell hole. Do we have a deal?” Cletus asked. You didn’t want to agree to it but you knew you had no other choice. Carnage was strong but he lacked the impeccable bond you had with Venom. You were confident in Venoms abilities in a fight. Your solemnly nodded your head.

“It’s a deal. When?”

“Tonight at midnight on top of the Oscorp building. Don’t be late.” Cletus said. Before you could answer, the security guard came in.

“The hour is up, Miss L/n. It’s time for Cletus’s meal.” The guard said. Your checked your watch. It was in fact 7 o’clock. The hour had gone the fastest it ever had. You shot Cletus one last look before you thanked the security guard and left. You could feel his smirk watching you as you went.

~

“Peter? Y/n’s at the front door.” May called from the kitchen. Peter perked up at the slightest mention of your name.

Peter went to his front door and saw you were still dressed in nice clothes for your interview. Peter loved your usual laid back style but he also loved seeing you dressed up. It reminded him of how bad ass you were.

“Hi.” You said shyly, noticing him staring.

“Hey.” He said back. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk in the hall?” You asked. Peter nodded gravely and followed you out into the hall. He shut the door behind him and turned to face you.

“Y/n-“ he began.

“I came here to break up with you.” You interrupted. Peter eyes snapped from the floor to your face. You didn’t seem upset. You seemed almost excited. Peter felt the opposite.

“Wh-“ Peter began but you cut him off again.

“Let me finish. I came here to break up with you. But I’m not going to do that anymore.” You clarified. “Peter, there’s a very bad man after me. I just found out that Carnage bonded with Cletus Kasady. He’s stronger than me, faster than me, and more deadly than me. He’s asked me to join his side and I said no. Now, he’s going to kill me. And he said he’s going to kill you too. I have until midnight until the fight.”

“Okay.” Peter followed along. “So what about the breakup?”

“I figured I’d come here and break up with you, and not just break up but really break your heart. I was gonna tell you I cheated on you and if that didn’t work I was gonna say I was using you to get over Andy and that I still loved him. All lies, by the way. My heart beats for only you. But I thought that if I made you hate me, Carnage would have no reason to go after you and he’d leave you alone. So that was my plan when I left the prison. But as I drove here, I remembered I wasn’t just dating some guy. I remembered was dating Spider-Man.” You said proudly, and Peter grinned.

“What I’m trying to say is, I believe in you. I know you’re strong and capable of anything you put your mind to. You’re extraordinary, Peter. And I don’t have to protect you, as much as I might want to. So, I did come here to break up with you. But now that I’m here, I’m asking you to fight Carnage with me. I want you by my side when I fight the biggest battle of my life. What do you say? Will you help me, Spider-Man?”

“I will.” He said confidently. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Thanks for giving me something to believe in.” You shrugged.

You spent the remaining hours before midnight coming up with a strategy with Peter. Soon enough, it was time to meet Cleatus on the roof. You and Peter swung there, shaking with anticipation as Cleatus arrived. You held Peter’s hand through this suit, still not in your Venom form. Cleatus looked between the two of you, and then at your intertwined hands. 
“Remember when you said I could kill you if I left Spiderman alone?” Cleatus asked through a wicked smile. Peter looked at you, confused as to why you would say that as you nodded.

“Well, I’d like to take you up on that.” Cleatus said as he morphed into Carnage. He grabbed Peter in a quick movement and threw him off the roof, leaving you alone with him. You ran in the director that Peter was thrown but Carnage caught you and dragged you to him, stepping on your neck to keep you down.

“Told you.” He snarled in your ear. “There’s gonna be carnage.”

[amethystpath-writes]

Fool-Proof

(NOT A PR0MPT) I finally finished the thing I talked about writing for weeks! Enjoy, everyone <3

******

Patrolling the streets perhaps wasn’t entirely necessary amongst a storm, Hero thought. Who would be out right now, besides an adventure seeker looking to dodge a fallen tree or be struck by lightning?

The wind was strong enough that Hero struggled to remain standing. She was knocked into a sidestep, then another, then another. She would get herself knocked down if she wasn’t mindful of the gusts.

Then again, she would also get herself knocked down if she didn’t watch her footing as she came closer to a stumbling figure in the distance. Through the rain, the person was difficult to see, but they were at least obviously human. Not some alien emerging from the rainwater, or something odd like that.

“Hey! You doing alright? The weather isn’t really great for a stroll; you should head into the nearest building. Storm is only going to get worse!”

It was very likely the person didn’t hear her. After all, Hero could barely hear herself past all the rain falling around her ears. How was the rain moving at a rate faster than sound? Didn’t matter. She just needed to get closer.

As Hero neared, she realized the figure had an arm wrapped around themselves. Their stumbling was getting worse, back was arching more. They were coughing, gagging. “Do you need some help? I can walk you to the nearest building. Is it okay for me to help?”

The person looked up, now within earshot of Hero. Even as they turned so slowly, Hero could recognize the hair, the jaw, the cheeks, the physique. She took a step back. “You escaped.” The words were choked, shocked, unpleased. Hero took another step back, ignoring the way the rain now began pelting the side of her face. “How? I- I made sure it was all fool-proof.”

She wasn’t so scared as she was confused- maybe a tad irritated. Who could have let him get out?

“Fool-proof?” Supervillain muttered, just loud enough for Hero to hear. And, just before lightning could dash across the sky, a loud boom followed shortly after. “Is that what you call it? Well, I reckon I should be glad I’m not a fool.”

“You’re hurt.” Hero could tell by the way Supervillain spoke- how quiet he was being, how raspy his voice was, as if he’d been crying some time ago. Maybe he had been- certainly seemed like it by way he held his abdomen. “I don’t suppose you squeezed through the bars to escape?”

“Bars don’t bend.”

“Then how’d you get out?”

Supervillain’s head lifted, and his back straightened ever-so-slightly. “What would you think if I told you I was let out?”

Hero swallowed, shook her head. No one would have let him out. No one was so stupid to release a supervillain.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know the panic you’re feeling,” Supervillain said, chest seeming to suddenly hurt much less than before. “I know that you’re aware of my influence- how easily I can turn one’s mind to benefit my own actions and ideals.”

Well, yes. Now that Supervillain said it, Hero did feel quite unnerved. At first, she was only irritated- only puzzling out how he might have escaped. Now, though…if what Supervillain said was true, that someone let him out, that meant she had more enemies, more people to be wary of. Hero would turn her head at everyone she crossed paths with now.

“I’m not in any panic. I-” Hero’s gaze fell to the right of Supervillain’s figure. There was someone in the distance- standing much like how Supervillain was earlier, crouched over, holding themselves. “What did you do?”

“I,” Supervillain said, a barely contained smirk forming on his face “escaped.”

In the distance, the person collapsed, hand never leaving their side until they met the ground, where their arm then unconsciously flopped. Hero didn’t wait a moment. She left Supervillain where he stood. He was laughing in his mocking way, loving the victory he so obviously achieved.

The rain picked up, beating and pounding against Hero’s skin. If she weren’t so focused on helping this fallen person, she’d be worried her skin was being peeled off by the rain.

Of course, the wind contributed itself as an obstacle, as well, knocking Hero side to side. Once to the left, twice to the right. It pushed her like a hundred devilish hands, away from her goal, then towards it, and away again. It tossed her like a ragdoll, all the while another figure appeared. And another. Another. They were all falling. She couldn’t help them all.

As she approached the first body, Supervillain’s voice ran perfectly clear behind her- no rain hindering the sound waves he sent in her direction. “How great of an idea you had, Hero.”

She swallowed, unturning. The rain was gone, the clouds vacant from the sky. The moon shone on the wet street, an ominous setting for anyone, surely.

“What could go wrong in a prison full of the most notorious people?”

It was now that the body in front of Hero turned their- no his- head, now facing Hero in full.

Villain. He gave a fake coughing fit- one Hero only knew was fake because of the smile he bore on his face as he began standing. Villain wasn’t sick, as much as he wanted Hero to think so before revealing himself. This- all of it- was an act orchestrated by Supervillain. The storm, the fake injury, the various others collapsing. It was a trick.

Before she knew it, one person after another was approaching her, trapping her in a close circle.

“You can take us out one at a time,” Villain told Hero. “But you can’t fight us all.”

The circle closed even more, everyone taking a step closer to Hero. From an outside perspective, one might have thought a demonic ritual was in session.

“You like to think you’re fool-proof, Hero, but you’re not.”

[honalele]

The Signal

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” Purpled finally broke the silence as Quackity stalked towards wheat fields near the spider spawner. “And what is he doing here?” He added as he glanced at Technoblade. The pig-hybrid warrior strode tall and silent. His expression was difficult to read, but Purpled could tell by the flick of his ears and the way he gripped the hilt of his sword, he was annoyed.

“Keep it down. I didn’t pay you to run your mouth.” Quackity said as he led them into the wheat fields.

“All you said was that you’d pay me double whatever BadBoyHalo was paying me. You haven’t told me what we’re actually doing yet and as the only assassin on the job, I think I deserve to know.” Quackity glanced at Techno who shrugged in response. Quackity sighed and then began testing the ground like he was searching for traps.

“I know that BadBoyHalo hired you to do a job and I know that job was to kill CaptainPuffy, and how I know that is above your pay grade.” Quackity hesitated, then spun around and started searching in another area of the field. “The thing is, this Red Banquet has been a hoax the entire time. The Eggpire doesn’t actually want peace, it wants control. It’s a trap and the people stupid enough to to fall for it are in for a load of some freaky fucked up shit.” Quackity paused and bent down. He brushed some loose dirt away to reveal a trap door, then opened it. “But that’s only if we don’t make it in time.” He said. Purpled watched as Quackity took off his pack and tossed it down the hole before climbing in himself. “Follow me.” He said just before disappearing into darkness.

Purpled peered down the ominous hole. Quackity called to them from the bottom. It appeared he made it in a matter of twenty seconds or so. Purpled stepped away from the hole and turned to Techno.

“You want to go first Pumba?” He said. Techno cocked his head and flicked his ear. He slowly walked towards Purpled until he stood directly over him. He was so close that Purpled could smell the stench of the North off his fluffy ruffled cape. “Never mind.” Purpled spoke through gritted teeth. He sidestepped the warrior and threw his pack down the hole just as Quackity had done. Then he gripped the sides of the ladder and leapt down into the dark abyss.

He rode the ladder like a firemen’s pole. Every so often he’d pass a torch, but most of them had gone out. He looked down and saw the floor coming up to him, it would be about another ten seconds before he needed to slow down. Then he heard a noise from above. He looked up and spotted a black shadow coming towards him, blocking the light from above. Techno had thrown his pack early. Purpled would be hit in the head with fifty pounds of gear if he didn’t think of something quick.

Then, he felt the air behind him suddenly become cool and he heard the sounds of a quiet cave echo around him. Just as the pack was about to hit him, Purpled launched himself from the ladder. He twisted through the air of the open cavern and made sure to land quietly on his feet. Techno’s pack fell with a harsh thud that echoed in the otherwise quiet space.

“What the fuck was that for?” Quackity called up to Techno. A few seconds passed before the warrior came barreling down the pole, kicking up dust as he hit the cavern floor. First he gave Quackity a look, then he gave Purpled the same look. He flicked his ear, picked up his bag, and started walking towards the only tunnel that led out of the chamber.

“Ask Hero Boy Chris.” He said before vanishing into the dark tunnel. Quackity paused and turned to Purpled with a confused expression. “Who the fuck is Chris?” Purpled shrugged and walked over to the ladder to grab his pack. Both him and Quackity entered the tunnel, following the dimly lit path.

Quackity quickly made his way to the front, leading both Purpled and Techno deep into a system of tunnels.

“Why are there so many tunnels down here?” Purpled asked in a low whisper to avoid echoing.

“I wanted to make sure that no one would follow us.” Quackity responded. “I’m the only person who knows the way out so stay on me and don’t do anything stupid.” He said as he made a right turn into a much more narrow tunnel.

The group continued to travel silently, making a few lefts and rights every now and then, when suddenly Quackity stopped and motioned for the others to crouch. Everyone was silent as Quackity led them around one final corner to a tunnel that was covered in red vines. Purpled bent down and picked up one of the crimson leaves. There was a rush of wind and he could hear a chorus of voices rushing along with it. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he closed his eyes and tried his best.

Then suddenly someone grabbed his arm. Purpled opened his eyes, finding himself face to face with the raging glow of Techno’s blood red gaze. The voices swept up as did the wind, but Purpled recognized something familiar in the beast’s eyes.

“Drop it.” He said in a low threatening voice. The wind pulled at Purpled, egging him to disobey the man, after all, what harm could a leaf do? But Techno’s grip only grew tighter and eventually it was a decision between the leaf or his hand. Purpled dropped the leaf.

The voices immediately died down and were replaced with different ones that caught everyone’s attention. Technoblade let go of Purpled’s arm and the group of three made their way to the end of the tunnel. Then Quackity stopped again and signed for Techno and Purpled to remain still.

From the other side of the wall they could hear,

“Bad, Ant, this is your last chance with me. Your very last chance.”

“What are you going to do?”

As the arguing continued, Purpled looked to Quackity who still hadn’t given them the signal. He wasn’t quite sure what the man was waiting for.

“I don’t care about the egg! I care about people Ant, and you don’t.”

“This is because of you. You left the Eggpire. You betrayed us first.”

“You think you’re going to put my son up there and kill him in front of me?”

Purpled glanced at Quackity. Surely they should intervene at this point. But Quackity was listening intently on the conversation and his mind was deep in thought.

“Look at you now Puffy. You tried to protect everyone, and look at you now. Foolish, your own son is about to be slaughtered because of you.”

“Quacki-“ Quackity threw his hand over Purpled’s mouth with enough force to push him up against the opposite wall. Purpled could have tried to toss him off, but that would risk an unnecessary amount of noise.

“…but this is your fault.”

Then the scream came. The laughter. The shouting.

Purpled shifted from Quackity’s grasp and he finally let him go. Purpled took a few gulps of air, but did his best to keep quiet. He looks to Technoblade, but the warrior was deep inside his own mind.

Purpled was used to watching people die. He was used to gathering hits and profiting off people’s lives. But this was different. It was strange. There was a reason Quackity was doing this. There was a reason he let the targets kill one of the people they were meant to protect.

But employer always called the shots. A lesson he’d learned long ago.

“Wait for my fucking signal.” Quackity whispered to them before crawling through a small opening to the Egg’s chamber.

And Purpled obeyed.

After a few silent moments he looked over to Technoblade who was watching him with that stupid pitiful look that every adult tended to give him.

“It’s a job.” He said in defense. Techno’s gaze shifted if only slightly and he flicked his ear.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He replied. Purpled tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. Just when he thought he had a read on this guy, he would say or do something that threw him off. Technoblade the mass murderer. Technoblade the pacifist. Technoblade the killer of kings.

“So what helps you sleep?” He asked.

“I don’t.” More bullshit.

“For the record, I hope I never work with you again.”

“Ditto.”

And then Quackity’s voice carried over, “I brought the next best thing. I brought my biggest enemy.”