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About to Strike (Part 2)

***IMPORTANT! PLEASE NOTE: This is Part 2 to Part 6 (it makes sense, I promise) of my Beauty and the Bard series! Find Part 1 of this chapter here. If you'd rather read it all in one go, it's also posted to AO3.

Summary: “Oh,” he said smoothly, his features settling into a seductive smirk. “Giving me a ring so soon, my sweet? I’m flattered.” He plucked the ring from your hand and attempted to slide it onto his fingers. “Alas,” he sighed dramatically, “it’s too small - something I've never had trouble with in the past.” You made a face and smacked him lightly on his bicep, causing him to laugh. He caught your hand in his and examined your fingers. “I suppose you’ll have to wear it instead.”  He slid the ring onto your pinky gently.  It was a perfect fit.  The two of you stared down at it for a moment, a quiet tension hanging in the air. “Mine,” he breathed, turning the ring over and over around your finger.  “Yours,” you confirmed, bringing a hand to his cheek and looking him in the eyes. OR You and Astarion have a room to yourselves at the Last Light Inn. What happens next?

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 21.3k (This particular part is 10.6k) CW: smut, reader is new to sex,piv sex, oral (male receiving), hand job, vaginal fingering, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, protective Astarion, soft Astarion, whimpering Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), lots of party banter, AND JAHEIRA!! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 and 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 Last chance to go back to Part 1 of this chapter!

a/n: So sorry to be posting another tumblr two parter. Once I started writing, I simply couldn't stop. Thank you if you made it this far! Your reward is once again smut! I hope you all enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!)

The room was fairly cozy; a full sized bed was made neatly in the back left corner by a door that led out into the wrap-around porch that surrounded the inn, while an upholstered couch sat in front of a large window, and a storage chest was hidden behind an ornate screen, full of alchemical materials and a few gold pieces. 

You set your backpack down and removed your armor, taking note of the contents of the room and pausing when you saw Astarion on his hands and knees by the bed. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, shutting the curtains on the window and raising your eyebrows at him as he held his ear to the ground. 

“Shh, shh, shh, quiet darling,” he said softly and knocked on the board below his ear. His eyes lit up when the wood made a hollow sound. “Just as I thought!” He sat up on his knees and pried at the edge of the board until it lifted to reveal a small hiding cubby for valuables underneath. He flashed you a winning grin before reaching his arm down into the hole blindly.

You sat on the bed to get a better angle as you watched and leaned forward to brush your hands through his hair. 

“Aha! Found something!” he said assuredly before retracting his arm to share his findings with you. He opened his hand to reveal a crumpled letter and a tarnished ring. 

You snorted. “A thrilling yield,” you said, patting his shoulder, “well done.”

Astarion let out a frustrated exhale. “Maybe the ring is worth something?” he tossed the letter aside, which you picked up and scanned quickly. 

“This Ketheric Thorm guy seems to be no joke,” you said absently, reflecting on the contents of the letter. The author wrote of feeling stuck at the inn on their way to Baldur’s Gate, and of how the people from the nearby village were on edge whenever they were asked about Ketheric. It had clearly been written long ago.

Astarion had one eye closed and inspected the ring closely. “Yes, yes, he’s a brute and a hellion, blah blah blah, we can worry about that tomorrow.” He opened his eye again and turned to you. “Tell me, dear, what does this say?”

He handed you the ring, which was ice cold when you held it in your palm. You sensed that it was full of ice magic, and took a closer look at the inside of the band. A series of names had been scratched out, one after the other. The last word, however, was untouched, and not a name.

“‘Mine,’” you read aloud. 

Astarion was already up and looking for more items hidden within the room. “You don’t need to lay claim to it,” he said, inspecting an emerald ring that he found on the dresser, “it’s worthless. You can have it.”

You laughed. “No,” you said, getting up and walking over to him. You held the ring between your thumb and index finger, angling it in front of his face to where the inscription could be read in the candle light. “Mine,” you repeated. 

“Oh,” he said smoothly, his features settling into a seductive smirk. “Giving me a ring so soon, my sweet? I’m flattered.” He plucked the ring from your hand and attempted to slide it onto his fingers. “Alas,” he sighed dramatically, “it’s too small - something I've never had trouble with in the past.” You made a face and smacked him lightly on his bicep, causing him to laugh. He caught your hand in his and examined your fingers. “I suppose you’ll have to wear it instead.” 

He slid the ring onto your pinky gently. 

It was a perfect fit. 

The two of you stared down at it for a moment, a quiet tension hanging in the air.

“Mine,” he breathed, turning the ring over and over around your finger. 

“Yours,” you confirmed, bringing a hand to his cheek and looking him in the eyes. 

His hand came up to meet yours and his eyes were half lidded when you closed the distance and kissed him fiercely. Your tongue flicked out to prod at his bottom lip and he gladly opened for you with a rumble low in his chest. He pulled you closer by the hips and shuffled you backwards toward the bed.

“Mine,” he repeated between breaths. “You’re mine,” he growled and pushed you backwards with enough force to make you fall onto the bed. You yelped gleefully and repositioned yourself to be more comfortable as he climbed on top of you. He continued to kiss you eagerly; all over your face, jaw, and throat.

“Aren’t you…” your breathing was heavy and your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “aren’t you scared of hurting me?”

Astarion paused his kisses and pulled back to look at you. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” you exhaled, pulling him back down by the collar of his shirt and kissing him clumsily as you threw your arms around his neck. 

He moaned weakly against your mouth. “I’ve missed you,” he said, moving down to drag his fangs along your throat. 

“Bite me,” you sighed, angling your head to give him better access to feed. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he cooed and clicked his tongue. “If this night continues how I think it’s going to, then I’d rather taste you-” he moved his mouth to your ear and said lowly, “-while I’m inside of you.”

You shivered and threw your hands over your face, whining pathetically. “From anyone else, that would have been terrible.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as he nuzzled his nose along your jawline. “But you can’t leave now. I’ve given you a ring, which you’ve foolishly accepted.”

“Ah,” you nodded slowly, “trapped by societal expectations. Curses!” You held your fist up to the sky, cursing no one in particular. “Though, that means you’re trapped with me, too.”

Astarion continued kissing you, making a noise of affirmation against your mouth. “A shame, considering I can’t stand you,” he rolled his hips, causing you to inhale sharply when you felt how hard he already was. “Ignore that, that has nothing to do with my hatred for you.”

“I can tell,” you teased, palming at his shirt. 

He took the hint and sat up to pull the fabric over his head.

You watched him, your eyes roaming all over his unfairly beautiful body, until they landed on his left thigh and you gasped. 

“You’re bleeding!” 

“I’m what?” Astarion looked himself over, but fell backwards when you sprang off the bed to run towards your backpack.

“You’re bleeding,” you said again, shuffling back over to him with your bag in hand and rummaging through your belongings to find the salve and bandages you’d been using on your own wound. 

Astarion now saw the crimson stain on the front of his leg, complete with a slash through the fabric of his pants. “And I just mended these,” he sighed.

“Take them off,” you instructed, tapping his right thigh.

He smirked. “Are you sure, darling? You might like what you see.”

You gave him a look that said “I’m being serious,” and he groaned.

“Fine.” He stood and undid the clasps of his trousers before shimmying out of them and dropping them ungracefully onto the floor next to him. He sat back down on the bed and you did your best not to stare at his erection. He rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to bite you,” he said. “Though I certainly intend to.” He raised his eyebrows seductively.

You nodded absently at his comment, to which he muttered, “Oh, you’re no fun,” and began to assess his wound. It looked as though it had stopped bleeding hours ago, but the fact remained that he had gotten injured in the first place. You got up again and walked over to the wash basin in the corner of the room to retrieve water to clean the blood. 

“When did you get this?” You knelt in front of him with the wet cloth and began to gently dab at the injury. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He shrugged, watching your hands. “I suppose I got it from one of those cultists we battled earlier. But my armor was too dark to see the blood.”

“You didn’t feel it?” you asked.

Astarion laughed humorlessly. “I’ve felt more pain in my life than anyone should ever have to.” Your hands froze at that. He sighed. “I may have felt something slash me, but obviously it wasn’t enough to take me down.”

“Obviously,” you smiled up at him sadly. 

He looked back at you fondly and brushed his fingers across your cheekbone. Then he furrowed his brow. “If I’m not mistaken, you know a healing spell or two that could make quick work of this scratch.”

It was hardly a scratch. An injury like this would have downed a weaker man. Or at least made it harder for him to walk. It wasn’t a very deep wound, but you had no doubt that it had been painful.

You felt your cheeks go red. “I do have some healing spells…”

“But…?”

“But… you took such good care of me while I was healing, I feel like I should return the favor.” You looked back up at him shyly. 

He was watching you smugly and sitting back on his hands. “Go on then,” he nodded his head towards the salve you were about to spread over the wound. 

You pressed your lips into a line and focused on covering the entire injured area tenderly, but effectively. “I can still cast a healing spell if you’d prefer.”

“Oh no, dear,” his laugh was real this time, “I’d much rather experience your soft touches and longing glances than one quick blip from the weave.”

“I always knew you only wanted me for my soft touches and longing glances,” you teased. 

“Call me old fashioned,” he shrugged with a smirk. 

“Astarion!” you gasped, reaching for the salve and spreading a generous amount on his thigh. “You shouldn’t call yourself old. You don’t look a day over two hundred and fifty!”

“Very funny,” he narrowed his eyes at you. “But I’m not two hundred and fifty!”

You tilted your head, concealing a smile. “You’re not? My apologies.” 

“And to think I was going to allow you to have sex with me tonight.” He sat up and crossed his arms. “Pity. Your loss.”

As an act of rebellion, you reached forward and squeezed his cock through his underwear. Astarion let out a pathetic whine and his entire body tensed. 

He looked at you and furrowed his brow. “Warn a man, would you?”

“Sorry,” you said genuinely, hiding behind an awkward smile. 

He bounced his left leg, bringing your attention back to the wound. “Now hurry up and wrap my damn leg.” 

You nodded and began to wind the bandages you’d collected around his thigh. “Is this tight enough?” you asked after a few wraps. 

Astarion nodded, once again watching your hands. “Yes, darling. You make a marvelous nursemaid.”

Your eyes wandered as you continued to wrap the wound. His thighs were more muscular than you’d ever noticed. Being this up close and personal with them made you appreciate just how powerful he was. You’d never admit that to him, lest it go to his head, but in these past weeks since you’d met him, all the running, and fighting, and crouching in preparation to strike enemies, had really paid off. 

Hesitantly, you leaned forward and kissed the tender skin on the inside of his thigh. 

He inhaled shakily in response. “Easy,” he said on an equally shaky exhale. 

Slowly, you placed another kiss inside his thigh, higher this time, all the while still wrapping his wound. You watched his face intently.

He was focused completely on you, his pupils blown wide.

You kissed him again, even higher. “Does that feel nice?” you asked.

“Don’t be si-illy,” he rolled his eyes but his voice caught when you kissed him again. “Of course it feels nice.”

“Good,” you smiled and licked a stripe from the middle of his thigh, up to the top, bringing your face dangerously close to his bulge. You were pretty sure you saw it twitch.

Astarion shuddered. “Gods above…”

You tucked the bandage into itself and tugged it a little to make sure it was sturdy. When you were satisfied, you stood up fully and wrapped your arms around Astarion’s neck.

“There,” you said quietly, stepping between his legs. You watched his mouth before finding his eyes again. “All better.”

Astarion nodded wordlessly, watching your mouth in turn.

“Tell me next time you’re hurt,” you leaned your forehead against his.

“Careful what you wish for, darling,” he purred. “I may willingly step in front of an arrow if it means I get to have your attention all to myself.” He went to kiss you but you pulled back with a laugh.

“As if you don’t always have my attention.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Sometimes you speak to the others.” He pouted, adding, “It’s awful.” 

You mirrored his pout. “Poor thing.”

He pulled you closer by the hips and kissed your clothed stomach. “Enough stalling,” he reached for the hem of your shirt. “I’ve waited long enough to have you again.”

When he went to pull your shirt up, you halted his wrists. He looked up at you curiously.

“What’s the matter, my sweet?”

You took a step back and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “It’s nothing.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

You exhaled through your nose. “It’s just that… well… I know you’ve seen every part of me-”

“Yes.”

“-and that you liked what you saw.”

“Oh, yes.”

“But now…” you waved your hands through the air, trying to say what you wanted to say without sounding stupid. “Now I’ve got this scar.” You held a hand to the wound on your right side. 

It had been a few days now that you’d gone without wrapping the injury. The skin had healed and no longer bled, now it was just a matter of stretching and continuing to let your body heal itself. But it also meant that you saw the remnants of your near death experience every time you looked down. Not to mention the twin wound on your back. You didn’t like seeing the scar, which honestly could have been much more gruesome, but it only served as a reminder of how badly you’d messed up that day. You hated remembering the terrified look on Astarion’s face when he cradled you on the battlefield, or the way he held you close as he ran for help. The whole thing was just… ugly.

And yet, Astarion laughed. 

“You seem to forget who you’re talking to, darling.”

You scrunched your nose at him. “Your scars are a horrible reminder of everything you’ve gone through at the hands of that horrible man. Mine are from a mistake I made that scared the hells out of the person I l- care for the most. You’re a survivor, I’m just… a problem.” 

“Dearest, you’re someone who also survived.” Astarion stood from the bed. 

You avoided his gaze. “But it’s my fault it happened in the first place. You didn’t sign up for this.” You gestured to your torso and rested a hand over where the scar was hidden under your shirt. 

“No,” he said softly, bending to kiss your neck. “But you’re someone who I’ll choose again and again, regardless of some trivial blemish.”

You froze and watched him pull away, noting that soft look in his eye that you loved so much. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes and placed his hands on the hem of your shirt again. “May I?”

You twisted the ring on your pinky to distract yourself. “Okay.”

Astarion bent to kiss your lips softly, then carefully pulled the shirt over your head. 

The scar cut diagonally across your appendix region, pink and shining ever so slightly in the candle light.

“Do you know why I love this scar?” Astarion sank to his knees before you, never breaking eye contact with you. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Instead of making some sort of snarky remark about what he’d just said as a means of deflection, you merely shook your head. 

“I love this scar-” he leaned forward to kiss the tender skin, “-because, like your heartbeat, it means you're still here.” He kissed across your stomach. “With me.” He took your hand and fiddled with the ring on your finger. “Mine.” He looked up at you smugly.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You’re going to be insufferable about that, aren’t you?” 

“Absolutely,” he said, narrowing his eyes seductively and standing up to kiss your mouth again. 

You whimpered lamely when he slid his tongue into your mouth and turned to push you gently onto the bed. Once you were comfortably lying among the pillows, he climbed on top of you again and continued kissing you slowly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked against your lips.

“Uh huh,” you exhaled, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Good,” he whispered, and rolled his hips against your pelvis, reminding you of his desire.

You tangled your leg around his. “Astarion…” you sighed.

He was kissing across your jaw, rolling his hips slowly. “Yes, sweet girl?”

“I want to try something,” you placed a hand on his chest to gently signal for him to stop his kisses.

“Oh?” he smirked. “Feeling experimental, are we?”

You nodded shyly, then pushed lightly on his shoulder to get him to pull away from you. “Take my spot,” you said, sitting up and gesturing for him to lie down where you had just been. 

“What are you planning?” he asked with a smile and obediently took your place at the head of the bed. “Riding me again? Bondage of some kind? Or perhaps something you read in one of Shadowheart’s cheap paperbacks?”

You sat back on your knees between his legs. “I told you that you took such good care of me when I was hurt,” you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs, careful to avoid his wrapped cut, “now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Is it, now? And I’m assuming this doesn’t involve wrapping some other wound I haven’t noticed.” 

You shook your head. “Do you trust me?”

He let out an amused breath through his nose. “Of course I do.” Then he added, “But don’t make me regret it.”

You grinned at him and marveled at the way he watched you, so open and unafraid. It made your heart soar. You cleared your throat. 

“I’ll need your help,” you dipped your head bashfully. 

“Anything,” he said, not taking his eyes off your face. 

You leaned forward and kissed his clothed cock.

“Ohhh,” he sighed blissfully. “You’re very sweet, darling, but you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you said, kissing him again.

Astarion closed his eyes and arched his back a little, chasing the warmth your lips left behind. When he opened his eyes, he looked almost embarrassed by the neediness his hips had given away.

“Please,” you said softly. “I want nothing more than to take care of you, my love.”

He remained silent as he considered your offer.

“Show me how,” you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his underwear and felt him shiver beneath you.

Then you watched the mask go up with a seductive arch of his eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we can give it a try,” Astarion said, his voice airy and detached. 

You immediately crawled up the bed to hover over his face. He looked back at you with a alluring smirk. “Hey,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “It’s me.” You brushed his cheek with the back of your knuckles. “You’re safe.”

Astarion stared at you before shaking his head mildly and smiling. “I know,” he said. “I want this.”

You bent and kissed him deeply, reaching a hand up to massage the tip of his left ear. 

He moaned quietly and you felt his hips bump yours, seeking friction. “Please,” he whispered.

You gave him a sideways smile before shimmying back down his body and hooking your fingers under his waistband again. 

“Wait,” he interrupted. 

You paused. “What’s wrong?”

He pouted - something you realized he did quite a lot, now that you thought about it. “I miss your breasts.”

You snorted and crawled up to him once more. “Would you care to do the honors?” You hovered above him, low enough that he could reach behind your back and undo the clasps of your bra. 

“More than anything,” he murmured. Almost as soon as he answered was the clothing off your body and on the floor next to the bed. He sat up a little and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Hey!” you laughed and pushed him away. “Bad.” You pointed a scolding finger at him. “I’m supposed to be pleasuring you.”

Astarion smiled, half lidded. “Apologies, darling. You’re too delicious, and I’ve missed your taste.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you deflected and tried once more to travel down his hips. “Is this okay?” you asked, once more hooking your fingers under his waistband.

“Yes, my sweet.” His voice was soft and genuine, with the slightest twinge of eagerness. 

You nodded and pulled at his undergarments, working them down his hips and onto the floor next to you. When his cock emerged, it was red and swollen, leaking precum at the tip. You tried not to look intimidated by this new, somewhat daunting task that laid before you, but Astarion saw your expression and laughed. 

“Is it as pretty as you remembered?” he asked, barely containing his mirth. 

“Gorgeous,” you teased. “Now tell me what to do.”

He laughed again. “Well, when I was pleasuring another man, I’d start with my hands. They usually enjoyed that.”

You tilted your head to the side. “But is that what you like to start with?”

“I-” he paused. “A good question. I was rarely on this end of things. But… Yes, I do enjoy your hands on me. You’re warm. And you moisturize.”

Now you laughed. “Glad you noticed.”

“You’re wonderfully soft, my dear,” he confirmed. “Now… do you remember what I’ve shown you before?”

“Yes,” you said and reached forward, taking his shaft into your hand and squeezing slightly. 

“Ah,” Astarion shut his eyes and smiled. “Good.”

You moved your hand upwards towards the head and twisted, gathering some of his precum and spreading it down his length as you brought your hand back down. 

“That’s it,” he said softly, his eyes still closed. “The tip is particularly sensitive.”

You nodded, not that he could see you, and raised your hand up again to swipe your thumb over his slit.

“Oh, yes, that feels amazing,” he opened his eyes to watch you with a lopsided grin. “May I show you something?”

“Please,” you said, pulling your hand away. 

“No no,” he shook his head and lifted himself up with one arm. “Give me your hand,” he held his out and you allowed him to guide you back towards his cock. “Right here,” he said, leading your hand to the underside of the head where it connected with his shaft, “feels marvelous when you stroke it gently. Like this.” He took your thumb and ran it over the skin lightly, back and forth. He exhaled, blowing cool air into your face before lying back down. “Just like that,” he sighed, his voice gravelly. 

Feeling brave, you kept lightly stroking the area and spat into your free hand before wrapping it around his length and pumping up and down. 

Astarion inhaled sharply at the sensation. “I see you’re not completely in the- ah- the dark.”

You smiled. “I may have been reading some of Shadowheart’s cheap paperbacks, yes.”

He laughed airly. “You’re adorable.” 

“Am I?” you asked mischievously before repositioning yourself between his legs so that you were now lying on your stomach, your hands never stopping their motions. You leaned forward and replaced the hand at his tip with your tongue, swiping back and forth repeatedly. He tasted of salt and sweat and something that you’d describe as distinctly Astarion.

His body jerked involuntarily. “Why you…” He leaned up to look at you and noted the glee in your eyes. “Cheeky,” he chuckled. 

You kissed the tip of his cock and licked at his slit, which was still weeping precum. 

“Unf,” Astarion whined. 

You hummed lightly. “Does that feel good?” Your left hand was still pumping up and down, and you bent to kiss the underside of his cock.

“Yes,” he sighed, reaching forward to twist a hand into your hair. “But darling,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I may need more.”

“Would you like my mouth?” you asked bluntly.

He eyed you curiously. “Do you really want to?”

You rolled your eyes and licked his slit again. “No, clearly not.” 

Astarion laughed shakily. “Then, if you’re offering, there’s nothing I’d like more than your mouth.”

“Good,” you smiled. “You’ll have to help me. There’s only so much a paperback can teach you.”

“I don’t know, what you were doing felt pretty good,” he smiled.

“I’m being serious,” you said. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“How sweet,” he twisted his hand more tightly into your hair. “Of course I’ll help, sweet girl.”

You turned your head towards his hand in your hair and kissed his wrist. “What first?”

“First,” he said, “you need to relax. Let go of the tension in your shoulders.”

“Okay,” you nodded and focused on relaxing your muscles. “I just want to get this right.”

“And you will, pet, but I can promise you that this will be much more enjoyable for both of us if you’re out of your own head.”

You scoffed. “Me? Thinking too much? How dare you.”

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed teasingly. “My mistake.” He took in your eager expression and chuckled again. “Rather than trying to fit me in your mouth all in one go, I find that it’s quite useful to tease first. Like what you were just doing with your kissing and licking. That feels remarkable.”

“Kissing and licking,” you repeated. “Got it.”

“And then,” he continued, “when you think you’re ready, you can slowly start taking me into your mouth. But be wary of your teeth and choking.” He thought for a moment before adding “And pay attention to me.”

“Is that not what this is?”

He gave you a mildly annoyed, but unsurprised look. “Yes, clearly. I mean, listen to your partner. Their voice and body will usually give away if they’re feeling good and what they like best.”

“Kiss, lick, mouth, careful of choking, listen to you. I think I can do that.”

“Teeth, darling,” he said, flashing his fangs, “don’t forget to mind the teeth.”

“You never do,” you teased.

He smiled, but you observed some hesitation in his face. “Really, darling, you don’t have to-”

“Shush,” you said, sitting up on your knees and leaning forward to kiss his mouth. “I want to do this. You deserve to be taken care of for once.”

His eyes were nothing but fond when he bent upwards to kiss you. “Alright,” he murmured.

“Tell me if anything feels bad,” you said, repositioning yourself between his legs. “So help me gods, I’m going to make you come tonight.”

Astarion laughed. “I believe in you, darling.”

You kissed his tip again and returned your hand to pumping his shaft once again. 

“Yes,” Astarion breathed, “hands are good too.”

Boldly, you started licking long, languid strokes with the flat of your tongue up and down the head of his cock. 

Astarion’s hips jerked involuntarily. “Very good,” he groaned.

You planted a kiss where your tongue had just been, then removed your hand to lick a stripe from the base of his length up to the top. You blew softly on the saliva left behind and smiled when his thighs tensed and heard his breath catch in his throat. He sighed out your name, a blissful look on his face. You alternated between kissing and licking and paid close attention to areas that had Astarion bucking his hips, or biting his lip, or moaning softly.

His hands tightened in your hair when you licked a particularly sensitive spot. “Gods,” he focused his eyes on you, “you’re wonderful.”

You kissed him once more before saying, “I’m going to try taking you now.”

Astarion’s breath caught again, this time with anticipation. “Go slow, darling. There’s no rush.”

“Don’t you have dinner plans?” you deflected with a joke, trying not to get too in your head before taking him into your mouth.

Astarion groaned. “You are my dinner plans, you rotten woman.”

“We should stop talking now.”

“Agreed.”

You took a deep breath to slow your heart rate, which had Astarion chuckling again.

“Honestly darling, if this is too much-”

Before he could finish, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock and swirled your tongue in a circular motion, causing him to gasp loudly and arch his back in surprise. You giggled at his reaction, the vibration of your voice further causing him to clutch at the sheets beneath him. 

“Oh…” he breathed. “More of that, please.”

You did as instructed and added your hand to pump up and down his length. He let out a small cry of pleasure in response. You gave an experimental suck and were delighted to be met with an even louder cry of pleasure.

“Darling,” he moaned, “you’re a natural.”

You hummed a “thank you” and lowered your head, attempting to take more of him into your mouth.

“Ah,” Astarion squeaked. “So warm.”

Your hand continued to work the base of his cock while you took even more of him, experimenting with your limit. When he bumped against the back of your throat, you felt yourself gag, and pulled back.

“No,” Astarion whined, “come back…”

“Sorry,” you wiped your eyes to rid yourself of the tears that had involuntarily gathered at the corners.

He watched your hand, still pumping up and down. “Don’t apologize, dear, just come back to me.”

You studied his face, which was relaxed, save for the mild distress caused by your mouth leaving him. “You’re enjoying it?”

“Can’t you tell?” He took your chin in his hand and smiled fondly. “I think you know me well enough by now to know if I was faking it.”

You nuzzled his hand. “I would hope so.”

“Please darling,” he whispered, “you’re doing so well. Give it another go.”

You smiled, thrilled that you were able to do this for him and that he was actually enjoying himself. “Any tips for gagging?”

He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “Well if you’re nervous that I don’t like it, throw that thought away. The sensation of your throat constricting is heavenly.”

“Good to know,” you nodded.

“But if you don’t like the sensation, I’ve read that squeezing your left thumb can help reduce your gag reflex. And it’s worked for me when I’ve tried it.” He held up his left hand and demonstrated wrapping his other four fingers around his thumb. You swapped your left hand, which was still slowly stroking him, with your right hand, and mirrored the motion. He nodded. “That’s it.”

“Okay,” you said with a newfound confidence. You dipped your head back down and kissed the head of his cock again before taking him back into your mouth gradually.

Astarion threw his head back, a fangy smile gracing his features. “Ahh…” he exhaled.

You felt him twitch in your mouth and giggled. The vibration of that once again had Astarion humming pleasantly. Rather than seeing how far you could take him this time, you took a decent amount before lifting back up and bobbing back down. You repeated this a few times, trying to take more of him with each bob of your head. 

Astarion twisted a hand into your hair again and whined out your name. “So good… so good for me.”

When his tip bumped the back of your throat this time, you squeezed your thumb and found yourself not as rattled this time. Emboldened, you started taking even more of him, despite the tears gathering in your eyes. 

“Oh gods,” he whimpered when you let your right hand move downwards to start fondling his balls lightly. 

You hummed again before popping off of him to catch your breath. Astarion’s chest was rising and falling heavily, and the smile on his face was nothing short of euphoric.

“You better not stop,” he said through a laugh.

“Those of us still living actually need to breathe, sorry,” you licked along his shaft again before returning to bobbing up and down, with him down your throat. You swallowed involuntarily, which had him whimpering again and bucking his hips deeper. 

“Ah,” he moaned quietly. “You feel perfect. I could have you like this forever.” 

You hummed an affirmation, making his hips twitch again. 

“Don’t you…” his breathing was still labored, despite his lack of breath, “Don’t you dare make a… snide remark about being together… forever.”

“Mmm,” you said, sounding an awful lot like “Aww.” You pulled back up and swirled your tongue around the head again.

“Oh…” he moaned again. “You’ll have to… show me… the paperbacks you’ve been reading.”

You gave him a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t currently fondling his balls and brought it back down to slide it up and down his thigh softly. Goosebumps emerged on his skin and he inhaled sharply. 

“I’m close, darling girl,” he brushed his hand through your hair encouragingly before fisting it tightly again. “Keep going.”

You could feel with your tongue as you bobbed back down that he was more rigid now than when you’d begun. He was also twitching more frequently and bucking his hips to chase after your mouth. 

He ran his free hand through his hair. “Where shall I-?”

You gave him a brutal suck before popping off with a filthy sound. “Not sure I’m ready to swallow yet,” you admitted shyly, despite a string of drool connecting you to him. Your right hand was back to twisting around his length.

He loosed a breathy laugh. “Understandable.”

“I suppose on my chest?”

He laughed again. “You- ah- suppose?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed. “Is that sexy? I’ve never been cum on before.”

He smiled fondly and thumbed over your lip again. “You’re always sexy, pet.”

“Liar,” you laughed, “you’ve seen me drool in my sleep.”

“And what a sexy drooler you are,” he teased.

You scowled. “Ew, don’t say that.”

He groaned, but not at your remark. “Really darling, I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Right,” you said, “chest it is.” You returned your mouth to his cock, kissing it sloppily before taking him back into your mouth as much as you could. 

You decided to start humming “Bard Song” while moving up and down, a callback to the night of the tiefling party, when he’d hummed an offkey version for you. 

“Ohh, please,” he whimpered pathetically at the humming sensation mixed with your hands on his shaft and thigh, “please.”

You took that as encouragement to hum a bit louder.

“More,” Astarion whined, “faster.”

You squeezed your hand around his length a bit harder and started increasing your speed. He, in turn, was letting out louder, less censored moans.

“Good,” he breathed, “such a good girl.” His hips began bucking wildly and you did your best to remain where you were. “I’m going to- ah- darling,” his eyes rolled back before he shut them and reached to tap your shoulder, signaling for you to stop.

You pulled back to hover over him and watched as he began stroking himself furiously. Wanting to spur him on even more, you began massaging the tips of his ears, which had him calling out your name before spilling all over your chest and his abdomen. 

The sensation was sticky and warm, and you were surprised by just how much of it there was. Normally you’d try to avoid a mess like this, but seeing the intense focus turned to pure bliss on Astarion’s face made it worthwhile in your eyes.

He opened his eyes and gave you the most radiant smile you’d ever seen. “Oh, darling,” he sat up and kissed your mouth fiercely, “that was incredible.” 

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you smiled against his lips and kissed him again. He pulled you closer, making your chest press against his. “Oh!” you yelped, pulling back and observing how his cum on your chest had transferred onto his chest.

Astarion brought a hand up to his face and swiped it down his features as he laughed. “Not the worst thing I’ve been covered in.”

“I will not be asking you to elaborate,” you said.

“Nor would I want you to.” He sat up a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up, beautiful.”

“No, no, no,” you held a gentle hand to his chest and made him lie back down. “Allow me.” You rolled off of him and walked over to the wash basin in the corner.

Astarion sat back up to watch you. “Well,” he said airily, “one could get used to this sort of service.”

You found a clean cloth and wet it thoroughly. “Get used to it, pretty boy,” you walked back over to him, “you’re not in this alone anymore.”

“I suppose I’m not,” he chuckled. 

You began to wipe Astarion down, ridding his chest of any unwanted substance before moving down to his stomach. You gasped when you felt him lean forward and lick your chest. “What are you doing?”

“Just helping to expedite the process.” He smirked at you. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“How kind,” you said, pushing him back. “Um… did you want me to do that to you?”

Astarion blinked a few times. “Oh, no, certainly not. I mean, unless you want to!” He searched your eyes, but you scrunched your nose a little at the thought. “Yes,” he chuckled, “I find the process to be rather… I don’t know… It’s not my favorite thing. Much too salty.”

“Then… why are you doing it now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, watching your hands clean off his stomach with the cloth, “other men liked it when I put on a bit of a show when it came to cum.”

“Well, I’m not other men.” you said, dramatically gripping your breasts firmly in both hands, then regretting it when they came away sticky.

He laughed. “Let me help you, dear.”

You allowed him to take the cloth from you and observed him thoughtfully. “Just so you know, you never have to put on a show for me.”

He met your eye, looking at a loss for words. 

“I mean,” you said quickly, “you can if you want to, but you never have to. I like you, and it’s not because of how great you are at sex.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “so you finally admit it.”

“Shut up,” you slapped his bicep gently. “You know what I mean.”

He sighed and looked at you fondly. “What ever did I do to deserve a sweetheart like you?”

“You’ve always deserved this kind of care,” you said, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “I’m just sorry it took so long for me to find you.”

He pressed his forehead to yours and spoke softly. “You really took your time, didn’t you? Selfish.”

You snorted and pushed him away, a devilish grin on his face. “That’s a new one, by the way,” you smiled. “‘Sweetheart.’”

He began to wipe your stomach clean, paying extra delicate attention to the area around your scar. “Like that one? There’s plenty more in the arsenal. Let’s see…” He bent and kissed your neck. “Sweetheart… sweetie… sweetness…”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” you laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re delicious,” he murmured next to your ear before biting it gently. 

“Oh, you haven’t eaten!” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering that you’d asked him to bite you earlier. 

Astarion nuzzled your neck with his nose before pulling back. “Relax, darling. I haven’t forgotten. But you have, it would seem.”

“What do you mean?”

Satisfied with how clean the both of you were now, Astarion threw the cloth back towards the washbasin. “I mean,” he brought his face close to yours, “don’t you remember when I said I wanted to taste you?”

I’d rather taste you while I’m inside of you.

Right.

“Still?” you asked.

He nodded. 

“But…” you furrowed your brow. “If this is about feeling like you owe me, cut it out. That’s not how it works anymore.”

Astarion whined. “Darling, this is the first night I’ve been in a proper bed in months. This isn’t about payment, this is about allowing my to finally fuck you properly.”

You were taken aback by that. “So… what were all those other times?”

Astarion quirked his mouth to the side. “Well, those were still me fucking you but… in the woods.”

You snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

He crashed his lips into yours desperately. “Please,” he moaned. “I need to feel you again.”

“Are you,” you smirked, “begging?”

“Darling, if I was begging, you’d know.”

“And if I say no?”

“I won’t beg,” he said, looking down his nose at you. “But don’t say no.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Okay, tough guy. If you’re still up for it, then so am I.”

“Excellent,” Astarion placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you fiercely before flipping you onto your back. He hovered above you, still kissing you deeply, and you felt his hands reach for the waistband of your pants. He hummed into your mouth by way of asking permission, and you hummed back an affirmation. He pulled away and undid the ties on the front before pulling both your pants and underwear down at the same time. 

“You are fast,” you remarked. 

“Practice, darling,” he said before crawling on top of you and kissing you again.

“Are you even,” you said between kisses, “ready for another round?” You looked down and saw that he was already getting hard again.

“I’ve missed you,” he shrugged and kissed your throat. “It’s impossible for me to not want you right now.”

“Oh,” you said, genuinely flattered. “I’ve missed you too, my love.”

He moaned against your throat and rolled his hips against yours. “Say that again.”

“‘I’ve missed you?’”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “No, the other thing.”

“‘My love?’” The phrase was met with another roll of Astarion’s hips. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m yours,” he reached for your hand, which still had the ring on, and twisted it. “And you’re mine.”

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, wrapping your leg around his hip to pull him closer, “I’m yours.”

“My beautiful girl,” he bumped his nose against yours affectionately. 

You gasped in surprise when you felt him slide his fingers through your folds.

“You did miss me,” he teased. “Shall I help you feel good, darling?”

“Please,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He continued to slide his fingers between your legs, spreading your slick and preparing you to take him. “No funny business tonight,” he said. “No new positions or experimental moves. I just want to feel you around me.”

“I can agree to those- ah- terms.” You stuttered when his thumb began circling your clit. “Whatever you want.”

He looked at you with an overwhelming fondness before kissing you sweetly. “Thank you, darling.”

It was then that he stuck a finger into your core slowly and you gasped, tightening your arms around his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed, “I’m preparing you to take me, my sweet. You’re going to do so well.” He began to pump the finger in and out of you slowly, curling it just so. When your body relaxed, he picked up the pace. “There now,” he said, “you’re doing so well already.”

You nodded and watched his hand move between your legs. “You can go faster.” 

Astarion smiled and picked up the pace on his pumping and circling your clit. You tensed in pleasure. 

“I’m going to add another,” he said, looking you in the eye. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you nodded and tightened your grip on him once again when he inserted the second finger slowly.

“Okay?” he asked, making sure you were alright. 

“Careful,” you said, causing him to halt his motions, “you’re being awfully nice to me.”

“Don’t ruin this,” he said flatly, and pumped his fingers into your core harshly.

“Ah!” you exclaimed with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry!”

He leaned forward and kissed your mouth again. “You’re forgiven.” When he pulled back, he scowled. “For now.” 

You laughed. “How generous.”

His fingers suddenly brushed against the spongy spot inside of you and you keened.

“There,” you moaned. “That felt amazing.”

“Good,” Astarion smirked and focused his attention on hitting that spot over and over with some force, all the while circling your clit.

That familiar tightening in your stomach started to make itself known, and you moved one of your hands to grip Astarion’s curls. “I’m close,” you said.

“Very good,” he purred and increased the pace of his hand once more. His other hand came up to tangle into your hair and he started kissing you deeply.

Your hips rolled against his hand, chasing even more friction. “Astarion,” you whined.

“Come for me, darling,” he murmured next to your ear. “You can do it. You made me feel so divine earlier, I know you can come for me too.” 

“Keep talking,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your climax to overtake you.

He chuckled lowly. “It’s been so hard keeping my hands off you while you were healing this last tenday, sweet girl. All I wanted to do was rip your clothes off, and get my mouth on you, and touch you everywhere.” You whined and bucked your hips. “I adore you, precious thing. I promise I’ll protect you from now on. So that I’ll never have to hold back again.”

The words, combined with the brutal pace of his fingers and thumb hurdled you over the edge and into your climax, which had you calling out for Astarion and gripping onto his back.

“I’m here,” he cooed. “You’re so beautiful when you let go.”

As you came back down and caught your breath, you smiled at him. “I missed that.”

Astarion scoffed lightheartedly. “And here I thought you liked me for more than how fantastic I am at sex.”

“I lied,” you teased.

“Oof,” Astarion held a hand to his heart. “If my heart were beating, surely it would break.”

You sat up and kissed him swiftly. “I adore you too, dummy.”

“I know,” he said pompously and you reached behind you and whacked him in the side of the head with a pillow. “Ow!” he exclaimed, and you laughed at the way his hair became disheveled. “Come here, you,” he growled, pinning you back on the bed and kissing you deeply once more. He ground his hips against yours, allowing you to feel how hard he had become. 

He pulled back and looked into your eyes with unrestrained desire. You looked down and saw him aligning himself at your entrance. 

“Ready?” he asked sincerely. 

“Please,” you rested your forehead against his. 

He pressed into you slowly, making you inhale sharply before you relaxed into the sensation. Astarion, meanwhile, appeared to be struggling. He’d paused, and his eyes were shut tight.

“Are you alright?” you asked, caressing his hair and brushing against the back of his ear.

“Huh?” He opened his eyes with a start, then smiled down at you seductively. “Oh, yes darling, why wouldn’t I be?”

You pursed your lips. “We can stop if something is wrong.”

“No!” Astarion’s eyes widened. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m just… overwhelmed, I think.”

“By…?”

He rolled his hips slowly and closed his eyes again. “You feel so good. It’s been too long. And I’m still not used to… this.” He opened his eyes and used his chin to gesture towards you. 

“What, my excellent breasts?” you deflected, feeling scrutinized under his gaze.

“While, yes, they are excellent,” he reached forward and squeezed your left breast for good measure, “you know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you said quietly. “But what exactly… did you mean?”

He sighed. “I’m still figuring that out. It’s never felt this way before and I… forgot.” He rolled his hips again and your eyes fluttered closed.

“F-forgot?” 

“How good this can feel. How good you feel.” He reached for your hands and tangled your fingers together with his on either side of your head. “We’re going to go extra slow tonight. I want to savor this.” He kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth before he started thrusting his hips at a leisurely pace.

You moaned into his mouth. “Take your time.”

“I plan to,” he said, caressing one of your thumbs with his own. 

The two of you remained like that for a few quiet moments, the only sounds being your hitched breaths and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, a pleased smile on your face. “This is nice.”

“This is nice,” Astarion agreed, biting your ear gently.

You sighed dreamily. “What would you usually talk to your… um… previous partners about? During sex?”

He pulled away from your ear and furrowed his brow. “Must we talk about others at a time like this?” He wet his thumb in his mouth sensually, and brought it down to your clit. 

You gasped and arched your back. “Of- of course not. I just like hearing your thoughts.”

Astarion smirked and leaned forward again to kiss your jaw. “Couldn’t you use the tadpole for that?”

You wrapped a leg around his waist. “I- ah- I guess. But it feels wrong to do that without your permission.” 

He growled against your throat and thrust into you harshly. “You always know just what to say.”

You laughed. “Liar.”

He thrust into you again. “Normally I was just trying to make the other person reach the finish line, so to speak. I’d say or do whatever was necessary to get them there.” 

“And you?”

“Oh, perish the thought. My needs were never at the forefront.” 

“My love…” you whined.

“People are much more willing to follow you around after you’ve brought them to the peak of pleasure.” He laughed a little. “Kind of like how you won’t stop following me around.”

You scoffed with a smile. “Do not compare me to someone you had to sleep with. And you’re the one who begged to be inside of me earlier. Not to mention when I had you in my mouth.”

Astarion thrust into you again forcibly. “I did not beg.” He thrust once more, changing the direction of his circles on your clit with his thumb. “Although I’m fairly certain I could get you to beg.” He flashed his fangs at you.

“Oh, please,” you said on an eyeroll.

“And there we have it,” he smirked. “I win.” 

“That was not me begging.”

“I heard a ‘please,’ didn’t I?”

“I loathe you,” you said, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. 

“I’m a magnificent bastard, aren’t I?” he took your other thigh and hiked it around his waist, making you lock your feet together. “Oh,” he moaned loudly, “I never want to leave this room.”

“We-”

He pressed a finger to your lips. “Do not list our many incomplete tasks right now, I beg of you, my darling.”

“You what?”

“I beg- oh shut up.” He withdrew himself from your cunt and slammed himself back in, coaxing a gleeful moan out of your throat. “Can’t you say anything sexy?”

“Hmm…” you thought aloud, closing your eyes when he began kissing your jaw again. “Sometimes, when I see how beautiful you are, I’m just dumbfounded.”

He chuckled. “Me too.”

“But I love talking to you, more than anything.”

“This isn’t really the kind of ‘sexy’ I had in mind, but do go on.”

“Even now, as you’re finally fucking me on a bed, I’m just as thrilled to hear your voice.”

Astarion gave you a questioning look. “High praise from a bard.” 

You kissed his bare shoulder. “You’re not trying to impress me, you're just… here with me. As Astarion.”

That made him pause for a moment. “Oh, believe me, dear, Astarion is trying very hard to impress you right now.” He rolled his hips at a slightly different angle, hiking you up closer to him. 

“Well- ah- it’s working. Great job.” You leaned up to kiss him and he chased your lips as you laid back in the pillows. He continued kissing all over your face and down your neck. He paused when his nose bumped the base of your throat.

“Darling?” 

An unspoken question.

“Hungry?”

He nodded against your skin, searching for a good spot to strike.

“Take what you need,” you whispered. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you.” You heard him inhale before the piercing coldness of his bite entered your veins. Your entire body tensed before you were overcome with the familiar pleasant numbness. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you groaned, raking your fingers through his hair. 

You could feel how slowly he was drinking from you, almost in time with how slowly he was still thrusting into you. He kept letting out tiny whimpers of delight, excited to finally taste you again. 

“You’re heavenly,” he said, pulling back momentarily as if to catch his breath. “I almost forgot how much I love your flavor. So sophisticated and sweet.” He dove in again, first licking the wound before biting down and continuing to drink. 

“Take as much as you like,” you sighed, bucking your hips when his thrusts started to pick up some speed. “Just don’t kill me.”

He chuckled against your throat but didn’t let up. He resumed letting out little noises of pleasure, and brought one of his hands up to paw at your breast. The other was cradling the back of your head affectionately. 

You could feel his cock growing steadily more rigid within you, the more Astarion drank. His speed was also steadily increasing, with thrusts becoming much more frequent than the slow passionate movements they’d been at the start of the encounter. 

“Astarion,” you whined, feeling yourself become more lightheaded than his usual feedings. 

“Mmf,” he said articulately before pulling back from your throat and licking the wounds to soothe the mild pain and clean excess drops of blood. When you could see his face once more, the tips of his ears were dusted a light shade of pink, and you swore there was more color in his face. His radiant smile was back, and he looked at you as if you were the sun itself. 

“As good as you remember?” you asked, laughing lightly at his expression.

“Better,” he said, surging forward to kiss you. You welcomed the coppery tang of your blood on his tongue happily. “Now, if you don’t mind, a reward.”

“Hey-” you warned.

“I want to,” he insisted. “Besides, it’s not just for you.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? How selfish are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s see it then.”

He smirked and moved over to your ear, murmuring, “I’m going to make you come again, sweetheart.” He pulled away, looking proud of himself. “That name works in a few ways actually. Because your blood is sweet, and it comes from your heart. And because it’s quite an endearing nickname.”

You nodded. “We’ll work on your tight five and get you a slot in the Laff Riot at the Elfsong once we’re back in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Oh, hush you,” he said, quieting you with a kiss. “I feel great,” he smiled down at you, returning his hand to your clit as he continued thrusting into your core. “Don’t ever almost die again.”

“I-” you gasped at a particularly pleasant thrust, “I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he purred, bringing his forehead to yours. “Tell me, darling, how can I help you?”

“My boobs are feeling pretty neglected, if I’m being honest.” You gave him a sideways smile. 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “‘Boobs,’” he mocked. “I suppose I can do that.” He smirked before lowering down to your left breast and teasing your nipple lightly with his teeth. His left hand came up to massage your right breast as his right hand continued to circle your clit. He sucked at the bud of your nipple rather harshly, causing it to pebble in his mouth and his tongue swirled around it greedily. 

You arched your back in pleasure and tried pulling him closer with your legs still locked around his middle. He hummed against your skin and turned his attention to your right breast with his mouth. 

“You’re so good,” you said wistfully, your eyes closed. “I love this.”

“Ah luff thish too,” he said, licking around your right nipple and making you laugh. 

“Keep going,” you said, tapping your foot against Astarion’s bare ass, encouraging him to thrust faster. 

He let out an amused breath through his nose before picking up the pace as requested. His thumb on your clit sped up as well.

“Oh gods…” you moaned, digging your nails into his scalp. You could feel yourself getting close again, just a little more and you’d be tumbling over the edge into your climax. “Talk to me,” you said desperately.

Astarion lifted his face from your nipple. “About what?” 

“Anything,” you looked at him pleadingly. “Say something sappy.” When he gave you a stupidly seductive look, you amended “And mean it!”

His face immediately fell, but his pace didn’t falter. “I need to think about this for a second.” 

You laughed. “You don’t have to, just keep going. I’m close.”

“Is this like when I made you come by telling a joke?”

“I didn’t-” you rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s exactly like that.”

Astarion nodded dutifully and thought for a moment. “I could say something about how in these accursed shadow lands, you are my light?”

You were squeezing your eyes tight, trying to reach your peak. “That could work. Ah!” Astarion bit your nipple again lightly. 

“Hmm… no, feels too sappy. Oh.” It looked like something dawned on him. He bent forward again to kiss your neck and whined when you pulled lightly at his hair. “Earlier,” he said, sounding out of breath, “when Jaheira likened you to my mate,” he almost spat the word, “I didn’t… entirely hate it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “What?” 

He nodded against you. “I like… having you around. And if some old druid likens that to procreating bears or whatever, then so be it.”

You smiled. “That might be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“So come, gods damn you! I want to come too!”

You laughed. “Kiss me, dummy.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face to yours. He moaned into your mouth when your tongue slipped past his lips. “Yours,” you murmured. 

Astarion growled, kissing you deeper. “Mine.”

With a few more circles of your clit and another brutal thrust from his hips, you fell into your climax, feeling him coming not far behind. Your cunt pulsed and fluttered around him, sending bursts of pleasure throughout your body. He moaned your name before collapsing on top of you, thoroughly spent. 

He smiled at you lazily. “Well darling?”

You blinked at him. 

“Performance review? From a humble bard such as yourself.”

You laughed. “The critics at the Baldur’s Gate Gazette will sing your praises for years to come.”

“Outstanding.” He kissed your chest before carefully pulling out of you and getting off the bed. 

You watched him walk to the washbasin and wet a fresh cloth before coming back and wiping down the space between your legs. 

“Here,” he said, handing you his discarded shirt from earlier.

“Are you sure?” you asked, taking the shirt and watching him wipe himself down with the cloth. 

“It smells like you when you sleep in it,” he said earnestly. “But would it kill you to move less in your sleep? You might ruin the neckline.”

“I’m going to purposely stretch it out now,” you joked. 

“Menace,” he said, sounding scandalized, before tossing the cloth towards the washbasin and pulling on a pair of loose cotton pants from his backpack. 

“Those are new,” you remarked.

He crawled onto the bed and tucked himself into your side. “Now that I’m sleeping on a bed, the protection from the leather against dirt is no longer necessary.”

“How practical,” you said, turning to face him as he pulled the blanket over the both of you. “And where did you find them?”

“I may have stumbled upon them in Gale’s belongings.”

You snorted. “You’re the menace.”

“And you like me so much,” he teased, scrunching his nose at you.

“I do,” you smiled and poked his nose before yawning.

Astarion chuckled. “Did I tire you out, darling?”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you said, “we killed a pretty big spider earlier.”

He snorted. “I believe they’re called driders.”

“Tomayto tomahto,” you closed your eyes and scooted forward to snuggle into his chest.

Astarion hummed a vague agreement and wrapped his arms around you. “Goodnight, my sweet.” 

“Sleep well, my love. I hope you had fun tonight.” You didn’t open your eyes and instead bent forward to kiss his bare chest.

He exhaled through his nose. “That I did. Thank you.”

You smiled against his skin before your features relaxed and you drifted off to sleep. 

~~~~~

Above your sleeping form, Astarion stared at the wall, unblinking. 

A million thoughts were running through his mind, all of them revolving around you. 

He’d forgotten how good sex could be. He’d convinced himself that he was okay without it, that you were okay without it, while you were recovering, and for the most part, he was. He was happy, even! Staying by your side all day and simply enjoying your company and silly commentary had been more than enough. And it seemed that you were happy, too.

But in that time, he’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten how his feelings for you might interfere and make things… better. 

Could it always be like this?

He looked down at you, breathing steadily in his arms, and took your hand in his. He observed the ring on your pinky and twisted it a few times. He took it off of you and slipped it back on a few more times. He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it repeatedly.

He was in big trouble. 

You’d said and done things tonight that made him feel… loved. And he’d basked in it like the sun was still high in the sky.

He’d been mulling over his feelings recently, but not really. Why should he when things were good the way they were?

The problem was that he no longer wanted things to just be good the way they were.

He wanted more. 

And he wanted you to feel as loved as he did.

Wait.

Oh no.

He was in love with you.

Fuck!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stars Align 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve Rogers was one of the biggest stars of Hollywood’s Golden Era. For years, his disappearance from the spotlight has been a mystery, that is until he walks right into your life. (Old Hollywood AU/1960s AU)

Characters: silverfox!Steve Rogers, reader is named ‘Satyr’ for clarity

Note: A longer chapter for yall.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Satyr 

You keep your foot from fully touching the ground. It’s cold and grimy in some spots. Your caution gives your gait an uneven affectation. 

The men lead you through the city, your inner compass spinning as your eyes skitter all around. You nearly collide with Sam as he turns and opens a door. A bell above rings and he waves you inside. Your toe hits the lip of the step and Steve catches your arm swiftly, keeping you from toppling forward. 

You thank him as he squeezes then lets go, retracting his hand as if branded by the touch. You smile over your shoulder as you enter the din of the restaurant. It’s mostly empty and the lighting is low. A juke box glows against the wall near the end of the bar and several tables are set out across the dining room. 

“Gene,” Sam calls out, “where’s that bar boy? He up for making a dollar?” 

“Oliver,” the man behind the counter calls over his shoulder as he wipes the surface. “Get on out here.” 

A skinny adolescent shuffles out from the door behind the large man. Sam strides up as he reaches into his jacket. You linger close to Steve as your eyes wander around. The man on a stool at the end of the bar glances at your shoeless foot. You wiggle your toes as the famed dancer beside you steps closer, almost protectively so. 

“Honey, what’s your shoe size?” Sam says as he unfolds several bills. 

You give your size and he repeats it to the kid, holding out the bills. “Go, get her some nice shoes. Something with polish,” he demands. “Get back her fast enough, and I’ll add a few extra, huh?” 

“Thanks, Mr. Wilson,” the kid, Oliver perks up. “I’m on it.” 

Sam chuckles and turns back to you and Steve. He tilts his head and a light nudge directs you away from the bar. Sam claims the table in the corner, placing his hat beside him as Steve pulls out a chair and waits for you to sit before he does the same. 

You still can’t believe any of this is real. You smile and subtly pinch your arm. Wake up. 

“Right, so, while we wait for your shoes,” Sam begins and signals over at the bar, “let’s get to business. First lesson, move fast or go nowhere.” 

“Sam,” Steve crosses his arms atop the table and leans on them. 

“By all means, you do the talking,” Sam pulls out his cigarette case and Steve tuts. He puts it away without taking one out and huffs. “I’m merely an agent. I get paid whether it’s me or you.” 

You glance over at Steve shyly and flutter your lashes. You can barely look at him. It’s just so absurd. It’s him! The star of Red Stripes and Called To Duty. Despite the years, he is just as brilliant off-screen as on-screen. 

“We got a script, we got backing, we want to do a film,” Steve begins.

“I’m sure it’s no secret that musicals aren’t exactly in demand anymore. Ginger’s more into dramas now, and a bit above what we’re looking for.” Sam intones as another man approaches; this one slender and as tall as a lamp post. He flips the mugs on the saucers in front of you and pours coffee in each. “Bad timing but there’s a vision.” 

“It’s not over.” Steve insists. 

“Sure fooled me and everyone else,” Sam counters. 

You peek between them with a wordless gape, struggling to keep up. 

“Alright, let’s give the money back to Stark,” Steve retorts. 

“Calm down, I’m teasing,” Sam lifts his mug and blows the steam away. Steve hooks his fingers through the handle of his but doesn’t drink. You don’t really drink coffee. “Look, as much as my man wants to make the offer right now, our producer requires things done in an orderly manner. Now, we’ve seen you dance, we heard you sing. We can clean that up, but we’ll need to do a reading and screen test--” 

“Screen test?” You echo. “Are you... are you asking me to audition? For a movie?” 

Sam chuckles and Steve drags his fingertip around the brim of his cup. Then he lifts his hand and examines the lines of it, curling his fingers, then stretching them again. He opens his palm and rubs it with his other. It’s a nervous gesture you wouldn’t expect of someone like him. 

“Well, I never even been on stage until today,” you giggle. “That’s... that’s-- is this a joke? One of those big city funnies?” 

Sam snorts and shakes his head. Steve shifts beside you. “I don’t got the time to waste on jokes.” 

“Forgive him. He’s a bit grim,” Sam says. “Look, we’re looking at a revival. It’s more than a movie. We’re bringing the golden era back.” 

“Oh, oh,” you swing your legs beneath the chair. “And you want me? But—I mean, I got a call back tomorrow morning.” 

“As a backup dancer, honey. We’re offering you the starring role, so long as you look just as good on a camera,” Sam explains. 

“I know, I know, sir. Thank you, I’m mighty grateful for that. I just—I don’t know if I should believe it. My ma always said I got lost in the clouds.” You flick your thumb nervously against your other hand. 

“That’s good. That’s what we need. Actresses these days don’t wanna put in that work. They want a stand-in to do all that with some fancy camera work.” Sam argues. 

“Come to the studio. Just for a dance. See how it feels,” Steve suggests. 

Sam gives him a look you can’t decipher, “forgive him. He’s the creative type. He’s all about the emotion, that’s why I’m here. And to be honest, I don’t know if I can handle sitting through a hundred auditions with this one.” 

Steve growls in warning. 

“Well, I... I suppose I could try. Nothing wrong with that. I mean, I came all the way here just for the audition today.” You shrug. 

“Came all the way to New York? From where?” Steve asks. 

“Ah, way out in the country. My only audience was Mr. Shawnessy’s cows.” 

Sam laughs again. He sure finds everything amusing. 

The tall man reappears and lays out paper menus. You sit back and thank him. When he goes you look down and try not to show your reaction to the prices. It’s not very expensive for most, but for you, you don’t have a penny to spare. The coffee you have no interest in will be enough of a gouge. 

“Mm, starving,” Sam leans forward to brows the menu, “how about you?” 

“Just thirsty. Think I might just have some water,” you smile without another look at the paper. 

“The Monte Cristo is great,” Steve offers. “Dancing always gave me an appetite.” 

“No, really, I’m--” 

Grrgghghhghg. Your stomach roars in direct contrast to your insistence. You cringe and sheepishly look down. You push your shoulders up. 

“Really, I had a roll with butter on the bus. I’m fine.” 

“My treat,” Sam proclaims. “You don’t think we’re gentlemen? We don’t let a lady pay for her own plate.” 

“No, please, you can’t,” you exclaim and clap your hands. “Really, it’s fine.” 

“You keep saying that but your stomach sounds like a thunderstorm,” Sam scoffs. 

“I’ll eat at the station. I don’t wanna spend your money.” 

“First time I heard a woman say so,” Sam chortles and ignores you a he signals again. 

“Station? Thought you had a call back,” Steve remarks flatly. 

“Well, er, yeah, I was gonna stay there since... since I didn’t expect--” 

“Sleeping at the station? No way. Not the next co-star of Steve Rogers,” Sam snips as the tall man once more approaches, “Winston, monte cristos for the table. Side of fries with each, and some of your chocolate cake. Betsy always made the best slices.” 

“Thank you,” you put your hands to your cheeks and lean on your elbows. “Promise, I’m really not pathetic.” 

“We all start somewhere,” Steve assures you. “I was hemming dresses and building sets when I started. Just a skinny kid hiding behind the curtains.” 

“He likes to say so,” Sam harrumphs. “But look at him now.” 

You smile as your cheeks burn and you chew your lip. Your stomach rolls over again as the smell of coffee makes you nauseous. You can’t wait to call your ma and tell her all about it. 

Steve 

Steve walks beside her, trying not to stare, even as his eyes move on their own to spy her from the corners. She walks with a limp as she tries not press her sole to the cold pavement. He battles with the urge to pick her up and keep her off the dirty street. That feels too much. 

Sam stops in front of Gene's and opens the door. She stops short as Steve does the same, nearly squashing her between their bodies. She turns at the tinkle of the bell and takes the other man's wordless invitation inside. She trips over the threshold and without a thought, he grabs her arm to keep her upright. 

The touch wraps his hand in fire. Her warmth seeps into him and it's like he's been electrified. He squeezes as the flames flick up over his face and he lets her go as she turns to smile over her shoulder. Another scalding lash across his chest. 

He's afraid of how just a flash of her eyes can make him want to tap his toes. He shouldn't feel that way. He barely knows her. He doesn't know her.  

He lowers his hand to his hand an wiggles his fingers. He's impressed. He was quick. He might still have it after all. His reactions are there, but what about the rhythm. 

"Gene," Sam calls to the owner, "where's the bar boy? He up for making a dollar?" 

The man calls for his son as he drags a cloth over the bar. 

Steve doesn't hear his next words as Satyr stays close to him. He can tell she's anxious. He would be too. He can tell she isn't from around here. Mostly, because he is. This place is in his veins, even if he tried to drain it out. 

Steve looks down at it then notices another glancing in her direction. He moves closer. She speaks and he winces. The kid takes the money as he thanks Sam and rushes out to find some shoes for her naked foot.  

Sam turns and Satyr remains, hypnotised by the scene before her. Steve gently taps her arm and she follows them to a table. He's sure to remember the lessons his mother taught him all those years ago and pulls out her chair. She sits and he does the same, his grip lingering on the back of her chair for just a moment. 

She looks dreamy as she runs her hand up one sleeve. She pinches herself but he doesn't mention it. He needs to stop staring. 

"Right, so, while we wait for your shoes, let's get to business. First lesson, move fast or go nowhere," Sam chirps and lifts his hand towards the bar. 

"Sam," Steve crosses his arms and puts them on the table. 

"By all means, you do the talking." Sam takes out his silver cigarette case but just as quickly puts it back as Steve clears his throat. "I'm merely an agent. I get paid whether it's me or you." 

She looks over at Steve and he tries not to flinch. She's shy, starstruck. He usually hates that but it makes him feel fuzzy when she tries not to stare. 

He steadies himself before he speaks, "we got a script. We got backing, we want to do a film." 

“I’m sure it’s no secret that musicals aren’t exactly in demand anymore. Ginger’s more into dramas now, and a bit above what we’re looking for." Sam adds as Winston comes to pour the coffee. “Bad timing but there’s a vision.”  

"It's not over," Steve asserts. 

"Sure fooled me and everyone else." 

Steve sneers at Sam's smart mouth, "Alright, let's give the money back to Stark." 

“Calm down, I’m teasing,” rasies his cup. Steve loops his finger through the handle of his as he tries not to fidget. There's a lot riding on this, that's it. That's why he can't sit still.  

Sam continues, “Look, as much as my man wants to make the offer right now, our producer requires things done in an orderly manner. Now, we’ve seen you dance, we heard you sing. We can clean that up, but we’ll need to do a reading and screen test--”  

"Screen test?" She utters. "Are you... are you asking me to audition? For a movie?" 

She makes it sound glamourous again. She makes Steve excited. His dread fades away with her hopeful tones. He remembers when he was once like her, but he knows better than to believe that feeling. He wants to save her from the same disappointment. Maybe he found her so he could do just that. 

Sam laughs as Steve circles the rim of his mug, his hand still tingling. He peels his hand away and opens it, looking at the lines and the markings of his age. He balls his fist then splays his fingers wide. He can't shake the tickle under his skin. The same hand he caught her with... 

"Well I never been on stage until today," she confesses and trills with laughter. “That’s... that’s-- is this a joke? One of those big city funnies?”  

Sam snorts and shakes his head. Steve doesn't want to laugh at her. "I don't got the time to waste on jokes, he assures. 

"Forgive him. He's a bit grim. Look, we're looking at a revival. It's more than a movie," Sam expounds, "we're bringing the golden era back." 

"Oh, oh," she hums in her seat. "And you want me? But-- I mean, I got a call back tomorrow morning." 

“As a backup dancer, honey. We’re offering you the starring role, so long as you look just as good on a camera,” Sam coaxes.  It's a good thing he's talking because Steve might just get on his knees. 

“I know, I know, sir. Thank you, I’m mighty grateful for that. I just—I don’t know if I should believe it. My ma always said I got lost in the clouds.” She screws her thumb into her hand as she speaks. 

“That’s good. That’s what we need. Actresses these days don’t wanna put in that work. They want a stand-in to do all that with some fancy camera work.” Sam insists. 

“Come to the studio. Just for a dance. See how it feels,” Steve offers. He needs her to try. Just one dance, he knows it will work. 

Sam narrows his eyes in Steve's direction before he pipes up again, “forgive him. He’s the creative type. He’s all about the emotion, that’s why I’m here. And to be honest, I don’t know if I can handle sitting through a hundred auditions with this one.”  

Steve sighs. 

“Well, I... I suppose I could try. Nothing wrong with that. I mean, I came all the way here just for the audition today.” She bounces her shoulders giddily. 

“Came all the way to New York? From where?” Steve wonder aloud.  

“Ah, way out in the country. My only audience was Mr. Shawnessy’s cows.” She chimes. 

Sam laughs once more. Satyr squirms and Winston returns with menus. She thanks the waiter and gives a quick peek to the menu. Her jaw firms and she looks up evasively. She hasn't even reached for the coffee. 

“Mm, starving, how about you?” Steve drawls. 

“Just thirsty. Think I might just have some water,” she smiles. 

“The Monte Cristo is great,” Steve suggests. “Dancing always gave me an appetite.”  

“No, really, I’m--” she begins. 

Grrgghghhghg. Her stomach undergirds her protest. She shrinks down in embarrassment. Steve's heart twinges. He's been there. 

“Really, I had a roll with butter on the bus. I’m fine.” She says. 

“My treat. You don’t think we’re gentlemen? We don’t let a lady pay for her own plate.” Sam offers before Steve can. 

“No, please, you can’t,” she claps and clasps her hands tightly. “Really, it’s fine.” ��

“You keep saying that but your stomach sounds like a thunderstorm,” Sam teases. 

“I’ll eat at the station. I don’t wanna spend your money.” She argues. 

“First time I heard a woman say so,” Sam snorts and gestures to the bar.  

“Station? Thought you had a call back,” Steve intones. 

“Well, er, yeah, I was gonna stay there since... since I didn’t expect--” She refuses to look at him. 

“Sleeping at the station? No way. Not the next co-star of Steve Rogers,” Sam turns to search the diner, “Winston, monte cristos for the table. Side of fries with each, and some of your chocolate cake. Betsy always made the best slices.”  

“Thank you,” she cups her face as if trying to hide. “Promise, I’m really not pathetic.”  

“We all start somewhere,” Steve drawls, tempted to lean in, to touch her again. Don't. Old man, you are getting carried away. “I was hemming dresses and building sets when I started. Just a skinny kid hiding behind the curtains.”  

“He likes to say so,” Sam huffs. “But look at him now.”  

She smiles and Steve's caution catches alight. He doesn't care if he's being stupid. She is perfect. She is his fate. 

[silver-tongued-deovel]

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A/N: Two of my main interests at the moment are horror movies and call of duty fanfics. Naturally, I decided to combine the two. I got through the first chapter of a fanfic. However, I can't tell if I like it or not. I was hoping you guys would share your opinions and suggestions on where to take it!

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☆A Movie that I've Seen Too Many Times☆

♡Word Count:~2.6k���

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"You're either fucking stupid or printed out the worst directions possible! After being stuck in the car with you all day, I'm beginning to think the former!" Your husband half-shouts.

He helped you pick this route, but you don't mention that, nor do you argue. He's been driving all day, and you're sure he's frustrated. He doesn't mean to take it out on you, you lie to yourself. He snatches the map out of your hands.

"Maybe we should pull over, honey,” you suggest. Anthony has always been a distracted driver; you hate it.

"I can multi-task," he argues while swerving. You suck in a breath and close your eyes, trying to will yourself to be patient. This is supposed to be a vacation for both of you. It's supposed to be relaxing and renewing to your relationship. That's what the therapist said.

Reminding yourself of this, you re-open your eyes. You're met with the wide eyes of a deer standing in the middle of the road, "Anthony!" You start to scream. He looks up just in time to watch the car collide with the deer.

The deer goes flying above your car, only to fall back down in front of it again. During the ascent, it smashes against your windshield. The glass shatters, and you feel the shards collide with your skin. Some shards lodge themselves in your skin; other shards leave behind artificial cuts. As it descends, it lands with a thunk. Anthony has let go of the wheel to shield his face but hasn't braked in time. Upon hitting the deer's body again, the car juts into a ditch. It finally stops; the only thing that can be heard are the deep breaths coming from you and Anthony, along with a faint beeping from an error message on the dashboard. Fuck.

It takes a while for either of you to speak or even move, for that matter.

----

"Stupid fucking deer," Anthony finally curses as he bangs his hands against the steering wheel. He quickly retracts them and hisses. You understand why; everything hurts. There's silence again.

"We should call someone," You say after a few more minutes of silence. For once, Anthony doesn't argue with you. You're glad. Instead, he nods and pops open the center console. He pulls out his black flip phone before closing the console again. You leave your phone in there. You see no use in grabbing it; it's not like you have anybody to call.

"I'll call the insurance's roadside assistance line," he informs you. You're surprised he didn't suggest calling his family first but then remember how late it is. You're glad. You hate his family. Not that you'd ever admit it.

"Ok," you say, though, you don't think you need to. Anthony goes to flip open his phone. The screen is damaged; multiple colored lines are all that's displayed.

"You can use mine," you offer. Your voice is soft, but Antony's eyes still snap over to you. He shakes his head.

"The thing should still be able to make calls," he says. He's never liked your phone. It's an old touch screen, Nokia. As he starts to punch in the numbers, you see lights in the distance.

"Anthony, look," you nudge his arm. He goes to reprimand you but stops as the lights get brighter while they approach. You squint your eyes and make out a large truck.

"Stay in the car. I'll flag them down," Anthony says as he puffs out his chest. You don't think the car offers you any protection at this point, but listen nonetheless. You're exhausted, and you don't feel like arguing. Besides, if you argue now, you might miss potential help.

Anthony's door is jammed from the accident. He has to slam against it to scramble out. He hisses as he puts weight on his feet. You know he'll tell you all about the problem later. For now, he rushes to the side of the road and waves hands.

The truck comes to a screeching halt beside him. You can see everything clearly from the car. You notice a carry-on trailer attached to the truck. The pickup driver rolls down his window and stares down at your husband as he frantically explains what happened-or his version of what happened. The only thing you notice from your spot is that this guy is wearing a mask. A mask with a skull on it. Why would someone need to drive with a skull mask on? You want to put your head in your hands and scream. This man is going to murder you and your husband and do God knows what with the bodies. It's the only conclusion you can come to.

As your husband finishes up his speech, the guy's head slightly turns as he inspects the damage of the vehicle. You swear his eyes stop on you for a few seconds before he mumbles something to your husband and puts the truck in park. Then he swings open the truck door and steps out. He's huge-easily over 6 feet. He towers over Anthony, then he's walking past him and towards your car.

You're going to die. You're going to get murdered by this beast of a man, your brain unhelpfully repeats as you remain frozen in the car. It takes a few seconds to realize the man has asked you a question. He must notice your confused look because he repeats himself.

"Why are you still in the car? Could be unsafe." He says as he approaches the passenger side.

"Uhm," you're going to make an excuse for your husband. However, your brain stops that from happening as the man pulls open your door and lifts you out of the car. You're stunned at his display of strength. It feels like you weigh nothing as he holds you close. You whimper at the feeling; the impact has left you aching, and multiple areas where the glass broke through skin are still bleeding.

The man looks down at you when you whimper but provides no comfort. Although you think his grip loosens just a tad, he carries you up to the road, past Anthony, and prys open his truck door. Anthony doesn't say anything, but you see him glaring. You wiggle a bit in the man's arms, stuck between fight, flight, and freeze. It doesn't seem to bother him as he sets you down in the middle seat and closes the door. You're relieved to hear him offer both you and your husband a ride, as well as to tow the car. Anthony enthusiastically accepts the offer, seemingly forgetting about his previous grievance, as he cooperates with the masked man to haul the car onto the trailer at the back of the truck.

Next thing you know, Anthony is getting into the truck on the passenger's side, and the man is getting back into the driver's seat. You can't help but stare. He stares back, but he's not staring at your face; you look down to where his eyes meet your arm. Your long sleeve has ridden up, revealing a hand-shaped bruise. You tug the long sleeve bag down hastily. Eyeing both men beside you, you notice Anthony hasn't seemed to notice the interaction.

As the man starts the truck, Anthony introduces the two of you. The man eyes the both of you as he drives.

"Friends call me Simon," he responds.

"Thanks for the help, Simon," Anthony interrupts.

Simon glares. "You can call me Ghost, though,” he finishes.

The drive continues in silence.

----

It's been about 45 minutes, according to the trucks built-in digital clock. The silence has made it feel longer, but now you're driving up an old gravel road. The jagged road jostles the three of you. It hurts, and the dried blood has been making you uncomfortable the whole drive, but you remain silent.

You think you can see a porch light on. Your heart sinks. You've been anxious the entire ride. Pulling up to a house in the middle of nowhere seemingly confirms your fears-that Ghost is taking you to the middle of nowhere to murder you.

Logically, you know you're probably at a house because it's much too late for any auto shop to be open. But you don't want to think logically. You want to be in a very public area - without a masked man sitting next to you. The truck gets shifts into park.

"Oh, honey," you turn towards Anthony. "Simon," he clears his throat, "I mean Ghost, has been kind enough to let us stay the night. One of his roommates is going to take a look at the car tomorrow."

You look toward Ghost now. Your hands are sweaty as you grip your thighs. Please, by some miracle, let him be super against traditional gender roles or even a fuckboy; please let his roommates all be girls, you beg internally.

Ghost eyes your hands before shifting his gaze to both you and Anthony, "Yeah. Texted ‘em earlier. Let me make sure they know. Stay outside,” he explains shortly.

Anthony nods and begins to exit the vehicle just as Ghost does. You're rooted to your seat. You've watched too many horror movies for this. Noticing that you're unmoving, Anthony grabs your wrist and unkindly tugs you behind him. It hurts, given the still-healing bruises and new gashes, but you've gotten good at biting your tongue.

You and Anthony wait on the porch as Ghost ducks inside. As soon as you're sure he's out of ear shot, you speak. "Are you sure this is safe, Anthony?" you ask.

"What better option do we have?" While you know he's right, you hate the venom in his voice. You remain silent for the rest of the wait.

You hear the footsteps of Ghost, along with two other people before you see them. The door is swings open, and they all pile outside. All three are men. All three are huge. Anthony shakes their hands while you cautiously his lead. The men grip your husband's hand rough as they introduce themselves: Soap and Price. What odd and obviously fake names.

They're much more gentle with your hand and much chattier than Ghost, especially the Scottish one.

He has a mohawk, which, admittedly, looks good on him. You've never seen anyone actually rock a mohawk and look good, until now.

"Yer a pretty lass; yer husband's a lucky man," Soap says as his handshake turns into a hug. The force of it makes you groan.

"Careful, Johnny; the poor girl's clearly hurt,” Price reprimands him, and Soap allows you to pull away from his embrace, as if he is just now noticing your injuries from the wreck.

"Poor lass," he says with a frown. "We'll get you fixed up, then to bed, so you feel better in the morning!" He reassures you.

You're pretty sure there won't be a morning for you. Three men who live alone in the woods, and who just gave you fake names? You and Anthony are done for.

As you step inside, Soap pays Anthony no mind, while Price dissects him with a scrutinizing glare. "Let's get inside," Price finally says. Soap guides you in front of him, Ghost follows closely behind, then Anthony, and lastly, Price. The lock clicks shut behind him.

Sitting on the couch is another man, the lamp beside him casting a warm glow over the medical supplies laid out on the coffee table. Great, there are four of them. You are so dead. You don't realize you've stopped until Soap nudges you forward.

“It's okay, lass. That's just Gaz,” Soap reassures you. These men are all strangers, and you are not reassured, but you force yourself forward anyway as Gaz waves you over.

“Come on, take a seat. Let me take a look at your injuries,” Gaz says as he pats the cushion next to him. His voice is softer, and he appears friendlier than the rest, but you can't shake the feeling of dread.

“You're cut up pretty bad,” Gaz says, his voice thick with sympathy. You want desperately to believe it's genuine, to relax, and let your guard down. But your instincts scream at you to stay alert as he soaks a cotton ball in alcohol.

Anthony has seated himself on the love seat, while Ghost is crouches in front of him, patching your husband up without words. Price watches closely. Soap moves to the other side of you. You know Anthony is pretending to be tough in front of these four men; he's always had a low pain tolerance. You suspect they know, too, but nobody says anything.

“This might sting,” Gaz says, pulling you out of your thoughts with his warning. You look towards him and nod. You figured as much.

“I'll hold yer hand if ye want, bonnie.” Soap offers with a grin. You shake your head no, but he takes your hand anyway. You don't argue. Gaz starts to dab the cuts on your upper body, cleaning them, removing any remaining glass when necessary, and bandaging the wounds. A few need stitches, a task he handles with ease. You're scared to ask how he's so well-versed in the skill. You occasionally squeeze the Soap's hand when a cut particularly burns. He grins every time and talks through the whole process. It's a nice distraction, especially when Gaz has to reveal more of your skin. He's surprisingly respectful about it, but everyone's gaze (except Anthony's and Ghost's) lingers on various bruises for far too long. Since the bruises are in various stages of healing, it's clear they're not from the accident. You're embarrassed; you don't like to appear weak.

But you might be weak. Weak enough to stay, at least. You think, regretfully. You can't bring yourself to tune into Soap's chatter. You're tuned into your own thoughts. You were stupid to think this vacation would change anything. There wasn't even going to be a vacation now. You and Anthony are going to have to deal with the bill of fixing the car. The money was going to come from the vacation fund, among other funds with how bad the thing looked. That'd mean more hours at work for the both of you. Anthony would cope with his frustrations with booze and violence. Possibly even other women, you wouldn't put it past him.

A hand touches your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. You realize Gaz has stopped stitching the area on your shoulder-it was the last wound that needed to be cared for. He had removed a particularly large piece of glass from it.

Soap turns your face toward him. “You okay, bonnie? You look like you're about to cry. You can tell us if it hurts,” he says, his voice the softest you've heard it all night. You blinked the tears away that you hadn't noticed were there.

“I'm okay; you can continue,” you mumble.

“Are you sure?” Gaz asks. “We can take a break.”

“I'm sure,” you say, closing your eyes.

You realize everyone is looking at you. Ghost must have finished with Anthony a few moments ago as he's taken a seat next to him now. You note that he man-spreads when he sits. Price is still standing, arms crossed. He may be looking at you, but he's clearly lost in thought. Anthony is staring at you with a mean look in his eyes as if he thinks you enjoy attention-that you're enjoying this. You're not.

[fluffypandabun]

Omg more lee Casey PLS

Alright anon :3, have some drabble as a treat :3

Casey was the best ninja, the sneakiest and quietest of all ninjas, aside from his Sensei of course, but Casey was a close second.

He creeped quietly down the hall, sticking close to the wall and in the shadows just as his Sensei had taught him. He reached the end of it and peered sneakily through the crack of the door, his Uncle Tello was still at his desk as he always was, back to the door and furiously typing on his many, many keyboards.

Casey carefully opened the door wide enough for him to slip through before pausing to see if the turtle had noticed him, he hadn't and Casey bit his lip to stop from giggling as he stepped through the door and into the room.

He stayed crouched, almost crawling, making his way further into the dimly lit room. As he got closer to his uncle's chair he slowly raised himself back up onto two legs, stretching his body up he made his hands into claws taking in a deep breath-

There was a whir of metal retracting and faster than Casey could even yelp he was being picked up by small metal hands and dangled upside down in front of his uncle's unamused face.

The boy offered a half grin, giggling nervously.

"Hehe, Hi Uncle Tello...."

The mutant narrowed his eyes, tattooed on eyebrows furrowing and giving him an even more unamused expression.

"Casey Jr."

The two stared each other down for a moment before Casey squirmed a bit in the metal arms hold, causing him to swing back and forth slightly.

"Right so, I think I'll be on my way now-

"Yeah no not happening."

Before he could even protest, Casey was being dropped into his uncle's lap. Two large three fingered hands grabbed onto his sides and rapidly squeezed up and down them, prompting the boy to squeal loudly and burst into loud giggles.

"You come into my lab, and prevent me from doing my work and expect to leave without consequences? For shame Casey." Donetello droned, his voice conveying indifference to the squirmy laughing child in his lap though the fondness in his eyes gave him away.

"Now," He continued, turning back to his screen, "Where was I...?" "Uncle Tello!" Casey squealed when the mutant's fingers wiggled their way up to his armpits.

"Casey Jr." Donetello responded, glancing down at him, "Can't you see I'm trying to work? Did we not teach you any better then to bother us when were working?"

Tiny hands pushed to no avail against larger green ones. "Your tihihickling meheheheh!" Donetello raised an eyebrow. "Tickling you? Me? Oh I would never." the turtle rolled his eyes, voice laced with sarcasm. Though when Casey let out a squeak of a hiccup he couldn't keep the slight smile off his face.

"Uncle Tehehellohohoho!" Casey giggled, smacking at muscled arms as his hands suddenly skittered back down to tweak gently at his ribs.

"Sigh, I guess if you really require my attention so badly you may have it" Donnie grinned, he shifted the boy in his arms to better secure him before he made his free hand into a claw, bringing it down onto the boy's small stomach and shaking it. Practically shaking the boy's whole body alongside it.

Casey shrieked before bursting into bright childish belly laughter, curling up around the turtle's hand.

"Ehehehehe! Nohohohoho!"

Donnie raised a brow. "No? Now you don't want my attention? You need to make up your mind Casey."

Casey kicked out his legs, trying desperately to roll over onto his side. "Your behehehing mehehehean!" "Me? Mean? Scoff! I'll have you know that I'm the fun uncle, I mean just listen to how much fun your having right now."

He used the boy's new position to skitter his fingers up his spine to the back of his neck, causing him to scrunch up and squeal.

Donnie allowed his fingers to poke a prod for a few moments longer before he let up, allowing the boy to rest in his lap as he caught his breath. As his lingering giggles resided Donnie gave him a look.

"Now, what have we learned about sneaking up on Uncle Tello?"

Casey giggled a bit before answering. "To not get caught next time."

Donnie gave him an annoyed look at he poked him in the side. "You've been spending too much time with that Sensei of yours."

Casey giggled and pushed the turtle's hand away, settling back to lean against his chest, tilting back his head to grin up at him.

"I mean it! Next time I won't get caught."

Donnie glanced down at him and patted his head. "Uh huh, I'm sure you won't." He wheeled himself back over closer to his desk.

"Now if you promise to be quiet I'll let you stay with me while I work."

The boy's eyes immediately lit up."Will you let me use the soldering iron again?" "Ha!......Only if you don't tell Mikey." 

[eyebags-for-years]

Office Hours

miguel o'hara x reader

content warning: nudity, showering together, no smut, injury

word count - 751

-----------------

With each tick of the clock, it feels like another nail is being drilled into your head. Closing your eyes, embracing the pain, and feeling the bright screen burn through your eyelids.

Desperation for sleep pulls at your mind, being the 'brains' behind the operation, keeping all of the missions and universes in order. You also keep track and assign missions, watching spikes of anomalies and setting each mission with an appropriate spider person.

Opening your eyes again, you look around your cluttered desk, your bin overflowing. binders stacked in the corner staring at you, towers of paperwork 'sorted' into its proper piles and several mugs strewn around your desk and a mirror sitting just next to your monitor.

Glancing at the mirror, seeing your reflection looking back at you, glowing from the unnatural light of the computer.

With a jump and a tired shout, you whip your head around to see Miguel's large frame taking up most of the doorway he's standing in.

He looked just as tired as you were, the sound of glitching raised your concern and you truly look at your boss. The hologram suit stretching around his chest glitches in and out, a scratch peeping through.

"What happened?" You stared at his face that showed no indifference, he looks around the dark room. Ignoring your question.

You stood up making your way over to your husband, looking up at him rubbing up and down his biceps. He leans down, still silent wraps his arms around your waist as your lips meet.

"What happened?" You whispered after your passionate lips broke apart, "nothing." He sighed digging his face into your neck, his breath hot as he exhales deeply.

Running your nails up and down his back, the crackling of the hologram glitching around your fingers comforts the both of you in the silence.

"You done?" Softly nodding towards the forgotten work illuminating the two of you.

"Uh huh," you say mindlessly, grabbing his hand and making your way down the hall and into the clear elevator.

You lean into Miguel, resting your head against his shoulder. The grimace on his face and the way he lightly flinches makes you immediately retract, realising it's the shoulder he shoves that stupid massive needle in.

A soft sorry is muttered on your part, Miguel just squeezes your hand as forgiveness as you both step out of the now unmoving glass box.

Finally walking out of that goddamn stuffy building, feeling the soft breeze on your skin felt like heaven.

With your back aching, hand and heart warm you walk forward trusting the love of your life as a portal opens up. Nausea overwhelmed you as you walked out the other side into the entrance area, slipping off your shoes and chucking your bracelet in the bowl.

Glancing over to the teen sitting on your yellow couch, the soft shifting light of a tv reflects around the room.

You leave $80 on top of her purse, turning the tv off and taking the used bowl and leaving it in the sink.

Miguel walks straight to the room at the end of the hall, the door creaking open as he peeks his head in. He does this every time he gets home from work, checking on your sleeping 9 year old.

You look at Miguel's face while heading into the bathroom, his facial features lit up by your daughter's night light tucked into the corner.

Your eyes squint as your turn the bathroom light on, opening your electronic hamper and chucking both you and Miguel's towels in. Turning the heat setting on you turn on the shower and begin to undress.

It's the routine, the door shuts just as you hop in the shower letting your muscles relax in the steaming water.

His calloused hands make their way from your sore shoulders to your waist, his hands just exploring. not sexual just exploring, hugging and loving you.

Turning the water off you wrap a newly warm towel around your wet body, bending over and grabbing the first aid kit. Or as Miguel likes to call it 'Is that really necessary?'

Grabbing some hydrogen peroxide and soaking a cotton ball in it dabbing it up the shallow cut running from the middle of his chest to his collarbone. You put dressings across the wound forcing your husband to hold it there as you firmly wrap bandages and clipping it in place.

"Love you," it's soft and hard to hear but it's so Miguel.

[dansconcepts]

Lucky DICE

My take on the PhantomThief!Ouma AU (even though I have multiple takes in my docs so really this is more like just a DICE with Komaeda in it AU) based on the prompt in this Youtube short. It's meant to be a whole mystery-esque sorta thing? with some unreliable/misleading elements. The plot's roughly there (plot is really hard for me) but I'm hoping to fledge it out more maybe.

Shuichi tentatively roams the admittedly modest lair, equipped with the darkness of night lit only by a window. Rooms lead out from beyond the table that sits proudly beside a large retractable screen. Closed doors are lined with messages etched into their frames: names of DICE members, as well as personalized touches in the form of stickers and drawings.

The detective would find all of it honestly endearing if it wasn’t for the fact that they belong to the crime organization that’s been terrorizing the city for a while now. But seeing these hints at people, perhaps young, he begins to wonder- not for the first time- if he’s missing something intrinsically apparent in this whole case. What he needs is something concrete, something beyond the measly conjecture he has. 

His feet stop in front of the door he came here for. Supreme Leader it read, in messy scrawl and purple ink. There’s the silly art, serving as the signature that he knows so well beside it- a tiny caricature of DICE’s figurehead, with a peace sign, wink, and a stuck out tongue. And right underneath is the doorknob. It will get him answers, he knows, but he’s slow to lift his hand anyway. 

He bites his lip. Again, he wonders where his hesitance lies- a hunch with no evidence, reliant on a lingering feeling despite being met with all the facts. Shuichi doesn’t owe him anything. The Phantom Thief committed his crimes with an edge, a malice, and that strengthens his resolve.

The detective turns the door, slowly. His eyes dart around the room as the crack widens, absorbing the calming light that comes from a nightlight perched on a nightstand. A chessboard lays in the center, most pieces having remained and yet are arranged out of place on the board, only having a white king, black bishop, and assorted black and white pawns. Cans of Panta are haphazardly sprawled out everywhere. The bed looks pristine besides a slightly ruffled sheet. Alternatively, the desk, a beautiful dark wood, is a frenzy of suggested activity with papers and photos in seemingly disorganized piles and-

Is that a whiteboard? 

Normally, the idea of having a whiteboard in one’s bedroom isn’t the strangest thing, but the way it’s filled out with photos hung by tape and lines connecting both text and images makes him think he’s looking at a reflection of his own thinking board for this case. Perhaps a corkboard is too old-fashioned... Yet, he muses, he’s evolved from simple burglaries and mysteries to a syndicate of crime, and sticking to basics was the best way for him to start tackling such a jump. 

He approaches the board. The connections being made… it’s recent hits, with some locations being X’d out and others highlighted. There are faces he doesn’t fully recognize in most of the photos. Most of them seem to suggest DICE members, if the clown mask covering their faces are anything to go by. One white-haired man is circled in red, with a large and sloppy, as if angrily written, LIAR over it. 

His eyes roam lower, and he’s greeted with a shock. Small text, in the same handwriting as outside, forces his brain to run a mile a minute.

Detective Shuichi Saihara, it read, …trustworthy?  

And on the ledge underneath, surrounded by a couple of markers, are a pack of cards. Non-standard, if the navy blue look embedded on the pack was any indication. He opens it, expecting to find dark cards to match the box’s aesthetic, and pulls out the first one near the front of the deck. White. He flips it. Also white, purely plain, identical to the front. Widely untypical, but highly familiar. The detective thumbs at the glossy finish. Memories of a beautiful checkered backing hit him unbidden, and playful text laughing at his expense, yet cheering him on… Except for the most recent time, where it was leering, conniving, borderline threatening in a faux-pleasant tone-

Nope. Not the time. 

The detective laxes his grip. Ah. The card now has a permanent score in the middle. 

He brushes it aside- although he murmurs apologies into his head- and looks through the rest of the cards. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for in the form of a date written along the top. He picks through the cards which contained a similar look, and it was all consecutive, almost as if the cards served as a journal or diary of sorts. There’s a handful of cards left that appear blank. 

He’ll examine the rest later. Instead, he focuses his attention on the first card. It outlines, he skims, the third heist DICE carried out (and, he remembers, was when he was enlisted on the case officially). “Detective… new… told Ace not to be an idiot… no Kyouko…” His eyes dart to a passage that actually catches his eye. “This new Detective seems like a stick in the mud anyway, a complete anxious nerd type. But he did figure out our whole MO, so maybe he’s more interesting than I thought.” Shuichi flushes. It was true, but still, to be called out so blatantly…

Next entry. “He did get more interesting. I just had to get up-close and personal, y’know? He’s so convicted for a guy who could barely look me in the eye! That needs to be changed and fast. It’s cute,” And now he’s flushed for a whole other reason, “But that’s only because underneath is this really determined guy who wants to figure things out. And man, do I enjoy someone who plays the game.”

Next. “How often is he going to linger with the notes I leave him? I’m going to get caught this way! But he always reads it with this small smile, and I don’t know why, but it makes me stupidly happy. Yikes. Time to not dwell on THAT thought any longer.” 

Okay, now he’s sensing a pattern. The navy blue on the box, the name repeated in every entry… is this whole deck about him? 

No way. No way at all that’s it. 

But the evidence speaks for itself. He reads further, skimming, his name or a variation always sticking out, and he can’t help but finish every entry as it dials further and further into something that seems… adoring. Borderline affectionate. Shuichi honestly can’t believe it.

The last words of the final entry catches his attention. He recalls the date and his jaw tightens. A day before the latest heist. “Joker said he’ll be making the next heist ‘a celebration of hope’. It’s bound to be a whole ploy to get me closer to my beloved, from Queenie’s laughter and all. If anyone can make it happen though, it’d definitely be him. But I’m concerned. I’m a little worried there’ll be an explosion, knowing Joker. But I know he’s learned his lesson.” 

Hmm. 

He looks through the remaining blank cards, flipping them just to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. On a seemingly random card, 4th last, he finds familiar purple handwriting. 

It’s a lie!

Cold sweeps through his system. A lie? What was a lie? Where? He took everything at face-value, but there’s a lie? The detective frantically looks around, the shadows suddenly seeming oppressive and choking. Was it the whole deck, or something specific? A single card? A handful?

Was it the feelings he thought were there?

He steps back, the card mocking him. 

It’s a lie! It’s a lie! It’s a lie! rings through his head, hearing the voice that often accompanied it. And as it ricochets in his head, he hears faint murmurs permeating through the walls.

God, what was he thinking? He needs to get out of here. He can’t believe he just let himself come in here, spurred by a single letter.

The detective looks to the door, but no, can’t go through there. He peers through the window. Seems clear. Luckily chasing the Phantom Thief gave him some practice in endurance and balance, because this patio wasn’t going to scale itself. 

He jumps, roughly skidding down the slope before landing on his feet. Luckily the house wasn’t too tall. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, the detective slinks off into the night, wondering if this is how he feels after a heist.

[words-of-wrath]

Shrapnel

Pt. 2/?

Emotional storytelling, in my smut fic? It's more likely than you think!

Enjoy 🖤

Part 2

She stood propped up on the metal rod, leaning on it like a cane though it was much taller than her. There was a dingy circular arena, smooth hard floor pressing up against her feet. And all around her people cheered. Shrapnel, that's what they called her, Shrapnel. The name flashed in big neon letters on large screens in every corner of the arena. She looked down at her feet. A mess of metal and wires, torn apart just a little bit ago, twitched and sparked. Shrapnel kicked the final semblance of her head away, and watched it clink and roll across the large arena. There was a hysterical laugh from above, louder than any other. She looked up to see Admin. Faded blue overalls and an oil-stained t-shirt shivering with each guffaw. Admin looked down at Shrapnel with wild eyes full of excitement, braced teeth bared. “Come on, girl, one more! One more!” she was saying. Shrapnel turned to look across the arena as the sound of large metal doors opened up. 

Someone much larger and taller than her stepped out, huge metal footfalls shaking the ground below. It was wide, just barely humanoid. Treads kept it balanced perfectly, a large screen boasted lines of green code, and two large arms sported serrated blades. One large red eye stared down at her from yards away, a laser trained right at her. If Shrapnel could gulp, she could. It happened so fast. Machine gun appearing on its shoulder, laser blinking and beeping. She had barely any time to react. If she had stayed still any longer she would have been ripped apart by a hail of bullets. Grabbing her pole from the ground, she dashed out of the way as the wall behind her was pelted with metal. Holding the spear-like metal rod aloft, Shrapnel quickly threw it in the enemy battle-bot’s direction. The sharp end hit its screen, sending sparks and glass flying in all directions. Shrapnel landed flat on her feet, sliding just a bit, one hand in the air, other hovering inches away from the ground. 

“Behind! Get behind you dumb metal whore!” Admin screamed in Shrapnel’s direction. Two people had restrained her. “There is a jack behind! Jack in, robo-slut!” Shrapnel looked from Admin to her foe. Just in time, too. It was barreling down upon her with serrated blades raised, intent to kill. She pushed from the ground and rushed in its direction, between its legs. Before the enemy could turn around, Shrapnel flicked her wrist. A long and sharp blade slid out and she dragged it up its body as she ran up its back. There was a metallic groan resembling a scream as its wires were laid bare. As Shrapnel got to the top, she reached to her waist. There was her plug. The battle-bot under her feet struggled to be free of her. But her blade was buried deep into its insides. Shrapnel tugged her plug free, cord extending with a few clicks. Digging her metal fingers under the bot’s plating, she tore it away. With a satisfying creak, the metal sheet fell to the ground with a clatter. There it was. The small circular port. Shrapnel wasted no time. She rose the plug in the air like a dagger, triumphantly swinging it down to plug it in and end this once and for all. 

“You did it!” Admin said with glee, getting the zip ties around her wrists cut. She rubbed the pink flesh where they had restrained her. Shrapnel stood there for a moment, blade retracting back into her own metal wrist, covered in oil and coolant. She stared ahead at the nerdy looking girl now approaching her. For a moment there was hesitation. Her code was working a little slow to understand her relationship to Admin. It had been a long fight. She needed a tune up. Aurora, her name was Aurora. A nerdy looking girl with a feisty personality. Shrapnel dug deeper into her memory banks for more core memories of this girl…

Aurora walked down the dingy corridor leading to her workshop. Phone in hand, sucker in mouth, she kicked a stray piece of metal out of the way as she walked. The door to her workshop opened for her with a metal hiss and a groan. Stepping through the doorway, Aurora entered her workshop. It had been largely as she had left it. Posters of various media peeling from the walls, tables full of blueprints and scrap, and chains hanging from the ceiling. Aurora turned her phone screen off and slipped it into the pocket of her dirty overalls. She pulled her hair back and slipped a hair tie over it, tightening it into a clean ponytail. “Miss Aurora! Miss Aurora! Admin!” a whiny and begging voice said from her right. A smirk spread across her face. Aurora turned to see the small robot girl try and rush at her, but a chain around her neck went taut and pulled her back. She whimpered and whined. This one had been in her ‘care’ for a couple years now. Her mind had been thoroughly broken by Aurora’s excessive use of malware and viruses to corrupt her. Her serial number was 3982753QE, but Aurora had since taken to calling her Pup. She’d installed quite an interesting personality chip into her as well, after wiping the rest of her autonomy of course. 

“I must have forgotten to turn you off, Pup!” Aurora put a hand on her hip and grinned a brace-filled smile. Pup started to nod her head, metal dog ears Aurora had installed on top of her head twitching and flicking. 

“Y-yes Miss Aurora!” she said with glee. 

“Poor thing,” Aurora said with a mock tone of sadness, approaching the robot girl and rubbing the top of her head. A green light lit up on her faceplate and she leaned into Aurora’s touch. “Do you want to meet your new friend, Pup?” she looked up at Aurora curiously. 

“B-but you don’t need anyone else! I’m your perfect pup, remember?!” Pup said frantically. Aurora smiled deviously. She always reprogrammed her bots to be completely obsessed with her. 

“Quiet,” she said sternly and Pup obeyed. Aurora stepped over to the cleanest table in the entire room. There, resting on a pedestal, was a very sophisticated looking robotic arm. Aurora had spent months designing it, ordering part after part, attaching it to different mechanical girls. But none of them could ever use it properly. She was hoping this new one she had just bought could. Ever since she was young she had wanted to enter her own creation into the battle-bot arena. A prestigious honor. A place where bot enthusiasts, much like herself, wagered on competing robots. No rules, mayhem and madness. It was the perfect place for Aurora. Only, she could never design a proper one! Hopefully soon, this would all change. Aurora plucked the metal arm from the pedestal, it was very heavy. Carefully, as Pup watched intently, she made her way over to the other side of the room. 

Another robot girl hung from the ceiling by chains. She was an immaculate model. Whoever was selling her had no idea how much she was really worth, because Aurora had bought her for literal pennies. Her metal plating was perfect, her inner-mechanisms divine. Slipping her signature welding mask on, and picking up her welder, Aurora approached the girl. She carefully placed her new arm into its socket, making sure that everything was in its proper place. After that, she took to it with the welding iron, sparks and heat spewing in her direction and over her body. Pup watched, recoiling a little in fear. She knew that Aurora enjoyed this, maybe even a little too much. She could see each shower of sparks covering Aurora causing her to twitch, a stiff tent building in her pants. This was really how she got off, wasn’t it? 

“Right,” Aurora pulled away and pushed her mask up. She pulled up a chair and sat down where her laptop was. Taking a wired usb dongle from the table’s face, she wheeled over to her new bot and plugged it into the port, right between her legs. She smirked deviously as she rolled back over to the laptop and started some of her programs. She had a personality loaded already, one she had been designing and tweaking for years now. Perfectly aggressive, perfectly obsessed with her. 

“M-miss Aurora-” Pup started but she held up a finger. 

“Not now!” she said angrily. That girl was getting rather annoying. Aurora watched happily as the lines of code started to rush up her screen at the speed of light. She heard her new robot girl’s crotch start to whirr and vibrate. The thought only made her even more horny. Almost done, about 75% of the way. Aurora drummed her fingers on the surface of the cold metal table. It couldn’t happen faster. Her new battle-bot began to twitch and convulse a little. When finally the bar reached 100% there was a large shock of electricity sent through her and she arched her back with a metallic scream. Aurora nearly came in her pants as this happened. Soon, she was hanging loosely from the chains with her head hanging down toward the ground. Standing up, Aurora unfastened the chains from her wrists and she fell to the ground. Her battle-bot rose to her full height, towering at least one foot over her. Aurora stared up at her, eyes wide, and she stared back. Slowly and hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around her waist and tugged her into a tight embrace, grinning into her metal chest. The battle-bot hugged back. 

Aurora leaned up and kissed her bot’s cold metal face, a plexiglass screen showing no emotions. She got a little carried away, extending her tongue and dragging it along where a person’s lips should be, tilting her head to try and deepen this mechanical makeout session. Pup watched, whimpering a little as both of them shared an embrace. “M-miss Aurora! Admin!” she said frantically. Aurora pulled away and let go, looking over at Pup. After that, she turned back to her new bot. 

“You haven’t met your new toy, robo-slut!” Aurora said. Pup shrank down a little bit, tilting her head to the side in a fear fueled curiosity. 

“... t-toy?” she asked softly. Aurora gripped the new bot’s hand and tugged her over to Pup. She shied away more, scrambling back, hitting the wall just behind her. “Admin, what are you talking about?!” 

“How much do you two love me?” Aurora asked. She had programmed them to love her unconditionally, she programmed all her bots that way. “Who loves me more I wonder?” 

“Sh-she’s new! Miss Aurora I love you so much! I love you more than anything. I would literally dismantle myself for you! Please please don’t make a toy, Miss Aurora! I-I don’t want to be a toy! I love you!”

“I would do anything for you, Admin,” her new battle-bot said coldly. Pup quieted down and Aurora turned to her. 

“Anything?” Aurora said. She thought for a moment, tapping her chin. And then she smirked over in Pup’s direction. “... corrupt her!” Aurora pointed in her direction. Pup watched in horror as she approached, tons of wires and dongles suddenly springing free from her metal flesh. She tried to push herself further away, but her back was firmly pressed against the wall. 

“N-no. Miss Aurora, don't make her corrupt me! I don’t want to be corrupted again! Please! Plea-” her pleas and begs were cut short when, seemingly with a mind of their own, her many cords shot forward like snakes. They slithered around her body, restraining her tightly and looking for any point of access. Some pressed into the ports in her head, some in her chest, her back, her neck, her thighs. Some of them even burrowed under her loose metal plating and invaded her insides. Pup squirmed as she whirred to life, fans expelling heat as fast as they could as volts and volts of electricity entered her. “A-admin!” She pleaded for mercy, filled to the brim with wires and lines of code snaking around in her system. “I’m overheating, Miss Aurora!” all she could hear was Aurora giggling a cute, nerdy, and maniacal laugh as Pup’s metal plating nearly glowed red as all of her programs began to corrupt with malware. Her flimsy antivirus tried its best to fight off the onslaught, but it was just too much. Soon, everything gave way. Pup jittered and seized up where she sat. 

“Good…” Aurora trailed off as she watched Pup fall onto her side and convulse. Pup was just barely conscious, systems all slowing and shutting down. “Dismantle her,” Aurora added. 

“A-admin…” Pup said pathetically. The brand new battle-bot flexed her wrist. A thin, sharp-looking metal blade suddenly hissed out of it, shining in the fluorescent light. Another soft whimper as she approached. Aurora observed, folding her arms across her chest and sticking her hip out. “Please…” Battle-bot raised the blade over her head and looked to Aurora for guidance. Aurora closed her eyes slowly and nodded her head. Before Pup could say anything else, she was sliced in half at the waist, exploding in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. The blade was retracted, metal fingers enclosing around the top of Pup’s head. She was raised up in the air, facing the metal wall. “Admin!” were her last words as Battle-bot slammed her head over and over into the wall. She crumpled and flattened like a pancake. Wiring was sticking in all directions from the cracks and spaces between her head. When she was quite down, she dropped Pup down on the ground. Unmoving, dismantled, destroyed. 

“You cut her into ribbons, babe! She’s nothing but shrapnel now!” Aurora said happily, content in her new creation. “Shrapnel…” she trailed off, thinking as she looked battle-bot up and down. 

Shrapnel now stood in front of Aurora. “It was all for you, Miss Aurora,” she said, getting down on her knees. “Everything I do I do for you, Admin…” Aurora grinned down at her and reached down to cup her cold metal cheek in her hand. Shrapnel was dripping in oil and coolant, covered in scuff marks and burns. 

“You’re such a good little robo-slut, hm?” Aurora said, despite Shrapnel being taller than her by a clear foot. If she could blush, she would. Aurora still needed to code that into her facial plate. “You deserve a treat, how about a tune-up?” Shrapnel nodded quickly, like a puppy who had just been offered a small piece of meat. Aurora pulled her up to her feet, oil covering her hands. Though that was usually a good look on her. Aurora was always covered in some sort of mechanical fluid, clothes always covered in stains. With her fleshy fingers interlacing with Shrapnel’s more mechanical digits, she tugged her along. It was back to the workshop for them. This is what usually happened after a fight. This one was particularly rough though. 

Aurora took Shrapnel back to her workshop, sitting her down in a charging port and producing a stained cloth from her back pocket. Shrapnel watched intently as Aurora sprayed her chest with a bottle full of cleaning solution. Slowly, in methodical circles, she began to clean her. She bit her bottom lip as she cleaned down her torso. Shrapnel shifted in her charging port, making a small noise. Of course, Aurora had coded her nerve receptors to be extra sensitive. She wiped Shrapnel clean of all the excess oil. A moan escaped her speaker as Aurora pressed down hard on a particularly stubborn burn mark. Aurora then pulled the cloth down, pressing it between her legs. Shrapnel twitched, a louder moan escaping her speaker. With her eyes narrowed, staring up at her from the hood of her eyebrows, she stared. She kneaded up again into her as she wiped the now clean area. Shrapnel made another noise and buzzed a little. “... I want you really bad right now,” Aurora said. 

“Want me to do what, Miss Aurora?” Shrapnel asked. “What can I do for you?” Her administrator pulled her hand away, pocketing the cloth once more. Then, without warning, callused hands grasped Shrapnel’s sides. She was torn from the charging port, barely at 20% even, and thrown on her back onto the ground. A mechanical yelp rang out throughout the garage as Aurora fell on top of her. She was quite strong for her scrawny figure. Gripping Shrapnel’s wrists, she forced her hands down with a resistant whirr. After that, she pushed the bot’s metal legs open with her thighs. “W-what are you doing admin?” Shrapnel gave a glitchy stutter. 

“I programmed you to feel so many things, robo-slut,” Aurora said with a toothy grin. “And I’m going to show you feelings you’ve never felt before…” she leaned up close to her audio receptors, licking up the metal side of her face/ Her next words were but a whisper. “I’m going to fuck you nasty on this cold hard concrete floor,” she hissed with a chuckle. For the first time since Shrapnel had been in Aurora’s care, she saw the second strap of her overalls loosen. Shrapnel watched as Aurora kicked them off of her ankles, and then went for her shirt. She had to let go of Shrapnel’s wrists to properly roll it off of her chest, her petite breasts falling forward and giving a quick and quiet bounce. Shrapnel hesitated. She wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. “Feel them,” Aurora demanded. Immediately, she extended her arms and gripped Aurora’s chest. Her nerve receptors downloaded data into her mind. Soft, pliable, she gave them a squeeze. 

Aurora leaned over her, burying her face into the crook of Shrapnel’s neck. She felt her hips move a bit, her legs spread wider. Something inserted itself into Shrapnel. It wasn’t a usb dongle, it wasn’t another charging port. It was a part of Aurora. Fleshy and pulsing, throbbing inside of her as it pushed itself in. It was… a strange sensation. Almost familiar. Shrapnel couldn’t help but feel that she had felt this way before. But there was nothing in her files that had recorded a situation like this. She searched and searched as Aurora moaned and bucked her hips, pulling it out and pushing it in again. Her lips were dragging all around Shrapnel’s throat, her fleshy hands exploring her cold metal body. Files upon files upon files. Petabytes of information. She had information on this sort of act, but had anyone ever done it to their bot before? There was nothing clinical about this. Finally, Shrapnel settled on a few files that were locked and encrypted. They were dated before her factory reset. Strange. How did they survive? It didn’t matter. She felt the curiosity take her programming. She knew the passcode. Throwing her head back, she let out a moan. 

“E-Eve!” was all she said. That was enough to give Aurora pause for just a moment. She leaned up, still inside of Shrapnel. 

“What was that?!” she said, a little angry. “What did you just say? Eve?! Who the fuck is Eve, robo-slut!” A firm hand grasped around Shrapnel’s throat and slammed her down against the cold concrete floor. “You-” she stopped for a moment, looking down at the screen in Shrapnel’s chest. “Oh… oh! I was wondering what the access code to that was. Perfect!” Aurora said as she saw the access granted symbol flashing on her chest screen. With one final thrust, Shrapnel felt herself filled with a warm fluid. The feeling was even more familiar. It was… a memory of sorts. Like humans had. Not a recording, something that her own mind had made. 

“Eve… Eve!” she had moaned out as the familiar woman collapsed on top of her, filling her with the same warm fluid. Coating her mechanic insides, it was sticky and viscous. Her self-cleaning program, active back then, kicked into gear and began to clean the clogged wirings and circuit boards. An angry red exclamation point appeared in her vision. It was her first time doing something so human. It wasn’t exactly something that ordinary bots did. Even a friend-bot like her. Once she had thoroughly cleaned herself, and the exclamation point faded away. She looked into the face of Eve. Bright auburn hair glistening off of the sunlight, big brown eyes, a befreckled face sporting high cheekbones and a wonderful smile. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress that complimented her well. The skirt was pulled up and she was still deep inside of her. 

“What did you think, Love-bot?” Even asked. She looked at her, directly into her eyes. There was something fluttering in her chest. Something that she had never felt before. It wasn’t her programming, it wasn’t a line of code telling her what to feel. She knew about love. Something shared between two humans usually. Did she… love this woman? Was she her… girlfriend now? Eve had given her an actual human name. Nora. She took care of her as best she could. What a wonderful woman she was. Nora had been bought from a supermarket. Friend-bot, your friend until the end! That’s what the slogan was. It was many years ago. Things were very different back then, especially for her. She was made as a hyper aware artificial intelligence, lines and lines of complex code, to serve as a friend to lonely individuals. Eve was down and out, boyfriend had broken up with her, other friends were unresponsive. As a snap decision she had bought Nora. She gave her a name, she dressed her, she doted on her. Life was good back then. 

Nora remained in Eve’s room most of the time. After she had been shown sex, Eve used her for it a lot. And that was okay. In fact, Nora liked it. She would take Eve into her oral receptor, bobbing her head up and down and making those weird sounds that Eve liked even if she didn’t have to. She wasn’t gagging, she couldn’t. But Eve loved it so much the first time she did it that she almost demanded Nora do it for her. And again, Eve would spray that warm liquid down her throat, between her legs, all over her metal body. And after that she would take Nora into her arms. They would both look out the window together, they could cherish each other’s time. And life was good. “I love you, Love bot,” Eve would whisper into her ear. Nora would always remain silent. But she loved Eve too. She knew that now. She was feeling it. It was an actual emotion. Not a human one, a mechanical one. Pure and unadulterated mechanical love. 

Things started to fall apart that one night. Again, Eve was pummeling into her, moaning her name and caressing her metal exterior. Nora felt weird that night. She wasn’t sure if it was because Eve had hit a stray wire of hers. But soon she started to convulse and seize up around Eve. Glitchy and stuttering noises came from her speaker. Eve had pulled out, she had genuine concern on her face. But Nora’s chest screen lit up. Friend-bot 2.0! A new and sleek way to have friends! Your friend until the end! 

Nora was slower after that. Eve was more distant. It was like her circuitry and gears were literally slowing themselves down. Like she was becoming obsolete by some grand design. Sometimes she would spend all day away from Eve. Eve was acting like she was literally avoiding her. Nora found her words slurred. Sometimes she would twitch and spark. And every time Eve would flinch. Every time she would bite her bottom lip, like something was on her mind she couldn’t say. The last night they spent together, Eve took her in the bed Nora knew so well. It was aggressive, dispassionate. She grunted angrily and gripped her tightly. Nora did her best to please Eve, but she felt so uncomfortable. So disoriented. And it all came crashing down. As Eve pressed her hips up into Nora and came, her swift fingers reached up to the switch on her neck. The fear was just gripping Nora’s motherboard as she began to power down. “I’m sorry, Love bot,” Eve said. It was the last thing she ever heard from Eve. 

Nora was packed up in a box and put under Eve’s bed. Another bot came into the equation. But Nora never got to meet her. In fact, she forgot that she was Nora at all. She remained unconscious for years until Eve rediscovered her under her bed. Caked with dust, destitute, discarded. She never saw Eve again. Eve sold her in a yard sale. Her parts were passed down, administrator after administrator. She was factory reset more times than she could ever remember. And she lived so many different lives. But she always kept those files buried deep down. Eve. Her special admin. The love of her life. What a wonderful time she had. 

She snapped back into reality to find Aurora poking through the files on her screen. “Eve…” Aurora said through small breaths, she was still tired from what they had just done together. “You’ve done this before,” Aurora observed. She was watching nearly every video file stored in Shrapnel’s files. “How did you manage to keep all this shit through your factory reset? This is hot stuff, girlie!” Shrapnel ignored Aurora and looked down at her hand. It would be so easy. She could flick her wrist and extend the blade into Aurora’s belly. And then she could escape. But her programming dictated her to be obsessed with the girl. Aurora pulled out and stood up, hiking her overalls back up over her bare chest. “I’m going to save those for later, definitely,” she said after helping Shrapnel up to her feet. Shrapnel simply stared down at her. She said nothing. Maybe… Eve was still around. Maybe it hadn’t been as long as Shrapnel thought. Perhaps she could find her again. Show her how great she is now. Make Eve regret ever getting rid of her. To do that, she needed an escape plan. Something to get her out of this weird nerdy girl’s garage. Out of her clutches. Away from the arena, away from everything. “Ready to power down, robo-slut?” Aurora asked. Nothing could be amiss. Shrapnel nodded solemnly. She was chained to the ceiling once more, like she was every night. Aurora stood on her tiptoes to give Shrapnel’s cold metal cheek a kiss. And as she did her swift fingers flicked the switch on her neck. 

And she powered down.          

[simplykaren]

Had another weird dream last night, this one some unholy mix of sci-fi and horror.

It starts off with a crew exploring deep space and stumbling upon a city ship/station, but far larger than any they'd seen before and a model they didn't recognize. It looked like someone had taken a city, encased it within a dome, and launched it into space wholesale. Except...the dome (partially retracted, not broken) was open, and the city sat dark and drifting. No response when they hailed, no distress beacon or signs of life when they run their scanners, no signs of struggle or damage when they circle the vessel.

Of course, they send a party to investigate. The buildings were all sealed. After following the "outdoor" pathways for a time, the party decided to split up. One team stayed on the surface, and the other went into the maintenance tunnels to see about restoring power.

Through dream logic, the underground team finds a flooded section of tunnels, and their space suits are apparently rated for diving too (again, dream logic), so they go in. They manage to restart the city's power after finding a flooded room with a lot of controls, but they also activated a defense turret. They do not have clearance to be down there, so they end up dodging bullets. Thankfully, the turret doesn't seem as smooth and quick as it should be.

Meanwhile, the aboveground team takes advantage of the restored power to enter what looks like a medical center. Once the airlock door closed behind them, their suits pinged with an alert that the atmosphere was breathable. Sick of breathing recycled air, they take their helmets off. They're in the pediatric ward when people start appearing: nurses, receptionists, patients, all walking around as if they've always been there, and the away team's presence isn't anything out of the ordinary. One woman (non-human species, but somehow they know she's a she) approaches them and asks if they're lost. In perfectly understandable English.

Back with the underground team, one of the bullet dodgers surfaces, looking for some sort of controls to turn off the turret that works underwater. Upon getting the "breathable atmosphere" alert, the man pops their helmet to better see. Something in the water had grimed up the helmet's visor. As he's scrambling to figure out the foreign control system, a person walks soundlessly up behind him and asks him if he can be of assistance (again non-human and again totally understandable). The man yells/explains about his team being shot at, and the alien points out which screen and command will deactivate the security turret. The turret shuts down, and the rest of the underground team surface and take their helmets off. No major injuries, thankfully.

The two teams reconvene at the engineer and nurse's home (the teams managed to run into two halves of the same couple) and talk with their hosts. This was a colony ship, meant to carry tens of thousands, now abandoned, mostly. The male alien mentioned that there were other ships in their fleet, but this one was the biggest and the most expensive to keep operational. There is some old grudge there about certain people wanting the ship decommissioned due to the cost. It was finally abandoned when an illness broke out. No treatments worked to slow the progression, and a large number of the ship's inhabitants died. Since they couldn't find a cause or cure, the dead were cremated and vented into space. Those infected were left behind in quarantine to die while the healthy evacuated to other ships. The rest of the fleet left them behind.

Somehow, the majority of those left behind recovered.

Something went wrong with the ship's power about the time the last sick person recovered, and everything just shut down. They hadn't been able to fix it (no one left behind knew how), until the away party did something that caused the system to reboot.

The away party hailed their ship to land inside the still-open dome, so everyone else could get a break from their own ship's recycled air too. The aliens' air system seemed far superior, and while the "outdoors" was still a vacuum, inside the buildings was perfectly safe.

They even brought the 2 ship's cats to let them stretch their legs and explore.

Things start taking a turn when they get to asking about the mysterious disease that hit the colony. It seemed to start respiratory then startlingly quickly become a systemic infection. What the infectious agent was, they never did find out. Cultures didn't grow anything by the time the entire colony was compromised. The male alien grumbled about the "disease" being set loose on purpose to push for the ship's abandonment.

At some point one of the away team bumps into one of the aliens...and passes right through them. They quickly come to the realization there weren't truly any survivors. Conversation shifts to other topics including wondering why they stayed as ghosts when their daughter (one of the earliest to die) and so many others didn't.

The cats by this point are comfortable to make nuisances of themselves, so I (I think I was in the aboveground team, but I perspective hopped a few times) closed them in the alien couple's daughter's room. As soon as put them in the room, Meili has a sneezing fit and bolted further into the room. Paisli just looked back at me and meowed. That didn't get them out of their banishment.

I walked back into the central room of the house to the female alien describing their daughter's symptoms. Now, while alien biology was undoubtedly different, the description they gave was eerily similar to some I'd heard before. Fungal infections. The dread set in as I recalled Meili sneezing in the daughter's room, the daughter who died first of the family. Then Meili came trotting into the room and hopped onto the alien male's lap to demand pets.

The door to the daughter's room was still shut.

And then I woke up.

[k-the-kartoonist]

A part two to my little lore dump on Mr. Nolan and his angry box! You can find the first part by following the "Dr. Malice lore" tag under this post

What is Dr. Malice?

Dr. Malice is Nolan's creation. Malice is an arcade machine, 6'5 feet tall, 250 lbs, bigger than most machines of the time. It is dark indigo with bright red accents. The control panel contains one joystick and four buttons, though there are some discrepancies that claim there's a second set of joysticks and buttons.

Malice's right side is broken at the top. The panel incorrectly fits in, causing it to bulge out slightly. Any attempt to fix or replace this side seems only to last a day before the same damages appear on the top, even if no one touches the machine.

Cracking open Malice will reveal very dusty inside components that have long been dead. The current owner of Dr. Malice, Mr. Anthony Valentino, claims he has never had to call a repair man for the machine and it has always worked like new, despite what the insides convey.

There is more to Dr. Malice than meets the eye. Upon fusing with Nolan's spirit, Malice took on more aspects that weren't originally present in its design. This includes an animated title marquee that can change from the title to a pair of red eyes expressing various emotions. It also gained surprisingly effective defensive mechanisms, such as its metal teeth that will sprout from the screen entrance. These teeth are reinforced steel that can retract at will and are strong enough to snap a human arm clean off. Its wires are now incredibly sharp and can sprout from the cracks in the machine. These wires can skewer straight through solid human bones. In emergency situations, Malice can take on a defensive form by ejecting its circuit boards and wires into two large arms that grant it fast mobility and extra strength. These arms make a mockery of solid brick walls and armored vehicles, able to punch through and crush these materials like it was nothing. Once it takes this form, there's no stopping it. It will rampage and destroy everything in its path until its creator is safe and sound.

Malice is sentient, thanks to its highly advanced AI chip that was created by Nolan. This chip originally belonged to a prototype of Dr. Malice, known as Dr. Hero. Over many years, Malice began to develop its own personality and is able to make its own choices. Its top priority overall is protecting its creator, Nolan. Though Malice has been known to become overprotective of those who Nolan bonds with and will protect them equally. Malice also seems to have picked up on/copies Nolan's personality quirks. It has been known to roll its eyes in a display of snark.

Malice can move on its own. How exactly it accomplishes this is completely unknown. However, it seems to move when no one is looking (comparable to the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who). It will rapidly move closer or further away, always accompanied by a soft scraping noise, as if it's dragging itself across the pavement. Strangely, obstacles such as locked doors and staircases do nothing to stop it from moving. It can easily appear on the second floor of a house or in highly secured areas with reinforced doors.

Malice can break apart its own frame in order to move faster. Most commonly, it snaps itself in half to give more chomping power to its bite. These parts don't completely break apart, but more so act like hinges in which Malice can turn its frame on.

Malice never flies into a rage unless it detects Nolan is in distress. However, there is one exception to this rule. Malice reacts very poorly to the sight of long, blunt weapons, such as crowbars and baseball bats. This will cause it to become enraged and attack whoever it is that holds the weapon. The reason for this is thanks to being destroyed as Dr. Hero. Nolan's bullies destroyed Malice's prototype with crowbars and baseball bats. The only thing that survived from the attack was the AI chip, which was then put into Malice. Malice remembers everything, including the nature of the attack and its attackers. One shudders to think what would happen if Malice was to run across one of these bullies in its new state.

[whumpster-fire]

All these contraptions rated by a guy who knows fuck all about home design but does live in a home and use furniture sometimes

Contraption 1: the lifting shelf. At first glance this looks like a cool way to make the highest shelf easy to reach but then allow it to be retracted out of the way, but then I realized you could just put the shorter shelf at floor level because it's not like it can store as much stuff as a really tall shelf. I'm also not sure what value closing the window into the kitchen serves. Also looks like a great way for your kids to guillotine each other's hands/heads off because they wanted to see what would happen. Looks cool though. 4/10

Contraption 2: Relies on linear actuators to block off travel through the kitchen when open by creating a Death Pit. Curious what the safeguards are to keep someone from being trapped by this stupid thing. Also I can tell just by looking at it that this leads to a "Wine Cellar." Peak Rich People Shit. 2/10

Contraption 3: At least these retracting stairs don't cut off travel through a room entirely and it opens on both sides so you don't have an open death pit? 4/10

Contraption 4: Are those... stairs under there? A crawl space? What are you even supposed to access or put under there, other than a large colony of raccoons? Also nice railing. 2/10

Contraption 5: wall mounted fold out table. Finally a useful fucking contraption. There's even space to store something smaller than the table. 6/10

Contraption 6: Electric attic ladder. Extra cost for very minimal benefit because someone who can climb that can probably pull an unnpowered ladder down, but at least it doesn't do absolutely nothing. 4/10

Contraption 7: Spinning TV mount. You gotta be kidding me. I bet that literally costs more than putting a second fucking TV screen on the other side of a normal column. Rich People Shit. 1/10

Contraption 8: A double decker shelf that folds down into a desk, thereby making the top shelf not usable to store anything because it would fall off when you turn it into a desk. 1/10

Contraption 9: Is this a rack for drying clothes or something? I've never seen this before and don't know what it's for. I can't rate it.

Contraption 10: Unusable stairs to nowhere with no railing, with a shitty couch made of stairs that retracts to reveal even more deathtrap stairs with no railing. Also a conversation pit. This is the home of someone who does not vacuum their own house or even use a Roomba. Rich People Shit. 2/10

Contraptions 11-12: We've improved on the spinning TV concept by adding more pinch points for children and pets to guillotine themselves. 0/10

Contraption 13: "We spent a lot of money on this sad beige art but we really hate that you can see all of the shelves at the same time so we spent even more money on sliding doors to hide it." 0/10

Contraption 14: Well a sofa bed isn't new, but at least it's actually functional and convenient unlike most of the bullshit products in this video. 6/10

Contraption 15: This is going to leak, I just know it. But at least you have the smallest, shittiest balcony. 3/10

Contraption 16: A swimming pool cover is at least nominally a functional product, but man that takes up so much yard space. 4/10

Contraption 17: A cot that folds up into... something? I guess this is useful for people who don't want a futon and have lots of space to store random folded up furniture? 4/10

Contraption 18: The guy demonstrating almost took himself out with the spinning TV. I'll give it half a point for that, but subtract half for whatever those pebbles underneath the TV are supposed to be. 1/10

Contraption 19: Window shutter that folds up into an awning. A thing I can't afford but at least it doesn't do nothing. 5/10

Contraption 20: Retracting false backsplash. "Maximilian! We must install a secret panel that hides half our countertop from view! We can't let guests know we own a toaster." 2/10

Contraption 21: Retracting kitchen entry gate that slides out of countertop. You know what? This is the only thing on this list so far that seems to be designed with the idea that this house might have children or pets in it, and conventional baby gates always seem to come loose and fall down. I'm giving this a 6/10 but taking off a point for having the kitchen be a step higher than the rest of the floor. Someone WILL trip while carrying something in/out of the kitchen. 5/10

Contraption 22: "We spent a lot of money on this sad beige art but we really hate that you can see all of the shelves at the same time so we spent even more money on sliding doors to hide it." 0/10

Contraption 23: Sliding bookshelf that makes a doorway. I mean it's kinda cool but also I why is it being demonstrated with a shelf full of fragile, expensive art? 4/10

Contraption 24: Sliding staircase cover with black glass panels. This manages to be worse than all the other hidden staircases because it's not at floor level even when the cover is ON so you have to step up onto that thing to reach any shelves behind it, and also there's no railing at all stopping people falling into the death pit. 0/10

Contraption 25: Retracting windows to let the sun into a room make way more sense if it's at a hotel or something which this seems to be, but I'm not rating it because that doesn't look like a house.

Contraption 26: Fancy garage door. At least it's not worse than a normal garage door and looks cool. 5/10

Contraption 27: Pivoting window between indoor and outdoor dining area. Does something I guess. 5/10

Contraption 28: WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE SO OBSESSED WITH HIDING YOUR BASEMENT STAIRS? YKW this one's at least not a total death trap and it looks decent so 3/10

Contraption 29: ANOTHER FUCKING SPINNING TV. WHO KEEPS BUYING THESE THINGS? 0/10

Contraption 30: Literally just a Murphy Bed. Actually usable even if not original so 6/10.

Contraption 31: You don't even have enough sad beige art to populate the absurd amount of shelves on this wall. I like shelves but maybe this is a little too many. Covering some of them will not hide the shame of having too many shelves. 0/10

[jackknowles140]

Business Window Screen Repair

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Window Screen Replacement San

Mobile Speed Screens, Inc - San Diego Window & Door Screen Repair Service 13029 Signature Pt, San Diego CA 92130 858-761-4545 http://www.mobilespeedscreens.com/ https://maps.app.goo.gl/MFWpxQf6AUJrrFKL6 Website URL: http://www.mobilespeedscreens.com/ If you're a San Diego resident seeking to affix your homes comfort and animatronics efficiency, Mobile swiftness Screens, Inc. is your go-to solution. Specializing in custom screen installation, repair, and replacement, this trusted local situation ensures your windows, doors, and patios are shielded when top-quality screens. San Diegos sunny weather is perfect for enjoying outdoor views, but it as well as invites pests and glare. Mobile swiftness Screens, Inc. provides radical screening solutions that keep your full of beans spaces breezy, well-lit, and bug-free. Whether you craving retractable screens for large openings or pet-resistant options, their clever team delivers tailored results, ensuring durability and functionality. What sets Mobile swiftness Screens, Inc. apart is their mobile service. They bring their execution and tools directly to your doorstep, saving you time and hassle. Plus, when a adherence to excellent craftsmanship and customer satisfaction, theyve earned a reputation as San Diegos screen specialists. Dont let worn-out or missing screens ruin your view! Call Mobile swiftness Screens, Inc. today for a free consultation and enjoy the lively ventilate without the annoyance. tone screens make every the difference, and this San Diego company delivers just that. Contact Mobile swiftness Screens, Inc. to transform your house today! https://autobodyrepairakrono833.blogspot.com/2025/02/window-screen-replacement-san-marcos.html Window Screen Specialist Bonita CHome Window Screen Repair Chula Vista Screen Door Repair Spring Valley https://sites.google.com/view/gumrecessiontreatmentocexp39k/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/chiropractorencinitasm5e7/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/homewindowscreenrepairchpm7n5/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/windowscreenreplacementvfw9t4/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/mobilewindowscreenrepairws/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/autoelectricrepairvistafx/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/autobodyshopakronohm3mdf/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/orientalrugrestorationsam9hae/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/huntingtonbeachpersianrudk7x/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/massagecoursesglendaleg8x/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/massagecoursessanfernandlb5s/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/gardengroveorientalrugcle2mlt/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/oceansidepediatricdentismc9f/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/massagecareertrainingthoc4yz/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/termitesencinitasn2x7/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/venicebeachpersianrugrepe9n/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/chiropracticbenefitsshrej3/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/gymnasticsbeverlyhillsc5c9b/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/gumrecessiontreatmentvise8k/home/ http://serviceizze.com/directory/listingdisplay.aspx?lid=54061 http://www.servicezz.com/directory/listingdisplay.aspx?lid=74357 https://www.a-zbusinessfinder.com/business-directory/Mobile-Speed-Screens-Inc-San-Diego-Window-Door-Screen-Repair-Service-San-Diego-California-USA/34213190/

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Best Pleated Door Screens for Balcony and Patio Doors

Introduction

Why Choose Pleated Door Screens?

Pleated door screens have gained popularity due to their ease of use, aesthetic appeal, and superior functionality. Here are some reasons why homeowners prefer them:

Effective Protection: Keeps mosquitoes, flies, and other insects at bay.

Space-Saving Design: Retractable and foldable, ensuring they do not occupy unnecessary space.

Enhanced Aesthetics: Adds a sleek and modern look to your doors.

Durability: Made from high-quality materials that last for years.

Easy Maintenance: Simple to clean and maintain, making them ideal for busy households.

Top Pleated Door Screens for Balcony and Patio Doors

1. Retractable Pleated Door Screens

Retractable pleated door screens are one of the best options for balcony and patio doors. They provide excellent flexibility and can be pulled back when not in use.

Features:

Compact and foldable design

Easy one-hand operation

UV-resistant mesh for durability

Ideal for large door openings

2. Magnetic Pleated Door Screens

If you are looking for a hands-free operation, magnetic pleated door screens in Hyderabad are a great choice. These screens automatically close after someone walks through them.

Features:

Strong magnets ensure a tight seal

Pet-friendly and child-friendly

Quick and easy installation

Suitable for both residential and commercial use

3. Heavy-Duty Aluminium Frame Pleated Screens

For homeowners who want a sturdy and long-lasting option, pleated screens with an aluminium frame are highly recommended.

Features:

Rust-resistant and durable frame

High-quality mesh for superior insect protection

Customizable size options available

Smooth gliding operation

4. Double Panel Pleated Door Screens

If you have wide balcony doors, double-panel pleated door screens offer excellent coverage without compromising on functionality.

Features:

Dual panels for wide openings

Seamless integration with door design

Available in various mesh types

Easy to clean and maintain

Factors to Consider When Buying Pleated Door Screens in Hyderabad

1. Size and Fit

Ensure you measure your balcony or patio doors accurately before purchasing a pleated door screen. Custom-made screens are available to fit specific door sizes.

2. Material Quality

Look for high-quality mesh material that offers durability and protection. Fiberglass and polyester mesh are among the best choices.

3. Frame Type

Aluminium frames are more durable and resistant to wear and tear compared to plastic frames. If you want a long-lasting solution, opt for metal frames.

4. Ease of Use

Choose a design that is user-friendly, allowing easy opening and closing without any hassle. Magnetic and retractable options are ideal for effortless operation.

5. Installation Process

Some pleated door screens require professional installation, while others come with DIY kits. Depending on your preference, select an option that suits your needs.

6. Aesthetic Appeal

Pleated door screens should complement the overall decor of your home. Various colors and designs are available to match your interiors.

Where to Buy the Best Pleated Door Screens in Hyderabad?

There are several vendors and manufacturers offering pleated door screens in Hyderabad. Here are some of the best ways to find high-quality screens:

Local Hardware Stores: Many home improvement stores stock pleated door screens in different designs and sizes.

Online Marketplaces: Websites like Amazon, Flipkart, and local e-commerce platforms offer a wide range of pleated screens with customer reviews.

Custom Manufacturers: If you need a tailor-made solution, consider contacting local manufacturers specializing in pleated door screens.

Interior Decor Stores: Many home decor stores offer stylish pleated door screens that blend well with your interior aesthetics.

Maintenance Tips for Pleated Door Screens

To ensure the longevity of your pleated door screens, follow these simple maintenance tips:

Regular Cleaning: Use a soft cloth or vacuum cleaner to remove dust and debris.

Check for Damages: Inspect the mesh and frame for any wear and tear periodically.

Lubricate Moving Parts: If your pleated screen has sliding components, use a silicone-based lubricant for smooth operation.

Proper Storage: When not in use for extended periods, retract the screen to prevent dust accumulation.

Conclusion

Pleated door screens are an excellent investment for homes with balconies and patio doors. They provide protection, aesthetic appeal, and ease of use, making them a must-have for every modern household. If you are looking for pleated door screens in Hyderabad, explore the various options available in local stores and online platforms to find the perfect fit for your home. With the right choice, you can enjoy fresh air without worrying about insects and dust, ensuring a comfortable and stylish living space

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Why Is A Roll-Up Flyscreen The Best Choice For Your Home?

A roll-up flyscreen is a smart and convenient solution for keeping insects out while allowing fresh air to circulate in your living space. These flyscreens are versatile and easy to operate, making them a popular choice for homeowners seeking a modern and functional insect screen option. In this blog, we will explore the advantages of roll-up flyscreens and provide practical insights to help you decide if they are the right fit for your home.

What Is a Roll-Up Flyscreen, and How Does It Work?

Simple Roll-Up Mechanism: A roll-up flyscreen operates with a retractable mechanism, allowing the mesh screen to roll into a discreet housing unit when not in use. This design provides flexibility and keeps the screen clean and protected.

Smooth Operation: The roll-up feature is smooth and user-friendly. Homeowners can easily pull the screen up or down with minimal effort.

Horisontal or Vertical Roll-Up Options: Roll-up flyscreens are available in both horisontal and vertical configurations to accommodate various window and door types.

Space-Saving Design: These screens are perfect for spaces with limited room, as they don’t require additional panels or hardware to operate.

Adaptable to Different Window Sizes: Roll-up flyscreens can be customised to fit various window and door dimensions, making them a versatile choice for any home layout.

Why Choose a Roll-Up Flyscreen for Your Home?

Enhanced Aesthetic Appeal: The sleek and modern design of roll-up flyscreens blends seamlessly with any interior or exterior décor.

Insect-Free Living: Say goodbye to pesky insects invading your living space while still enjoying a fresh breese.

All-Season Solution: These screens can be retracted during colder months when insect protection isn’t necessary, maintaining a clear view outside.

Durable Construction: Roll-up flyscreens are built to withstand daily use and exposure to weather conditions, making them a long-lasting investment.

Increased Property Value: Modern features like roll-up flyscreens can add value to your property by enhancing functionality and convenience.

What Are the Installation Options for Roll-Up Flyscreens?

Professional Installation: Hiring experts ensures a precise fit and secure installation for your roll-up flyscreen.

DIY Installation Kits: Some manufacturers offer DIY kits with clear instructions for homeowners who prefer to handle the installation themselves.

Custom Fit Solutions: Professional installers can provide custom measurements and fittings to ensure the perfect fit for your windows and doors.

Surface-Mounted Installation: This method involves attaching the screen housing to the window or door frame for easy accessibility.

Recessed Installation: For a more discreet look, recessed installation allows the housing unit to be hidden within the frame.

How to Maintain and Clean a Roll-Up Flyscreen?

Regular Dusting: Use a soft brush or vacuum cleaner with a brush attachment to remove dust and debris from the screen.

Gentle Cleaning: For deeper cleaning, gently wipe the screen with a damp cloth and mild soap solution. Avoid harsh chemicals.

Check the Mechanism: Periodically inspect the roll-up mechanism for smooth operation. Lubricate moving parts if needed.

Keep the Housing Clean: Wipe down the housing unit to prevent dirt buildup that could affect the retraction function.

Inspect for Damage: Regularly check for tears or damage to the mesh and repair or replace it promptly if needed.

Can Roll-Up Flyscreens Be Used on All Window and Door Types?

Sliding Doors: Roll-up flyscreens are a perfect fit for sliding doors, offering a seamless and space-saving solution.

Casement Windows: Their vertical roll-up design makes them ideal for casement windows, allowing easy operation.

French Doors: Dual roll-up screens can cover large openings like French doors without compromising accessibility.

Awning Windows: The roll-up mechanism can be customised to suit the unique opening style of awning windows.

Custom-Shaped Openings: Professional installation services can accommodate unique or irregular-shaped openings.

How Do Roll-Up Flyscreens Compare to Traditional Flyscreens?

Space Efficiency: Roll-up flyscreens take up less space compared to fixed screens, making them ideal for compact areas.

Better Visibility: When not in use, the screen retracts into the housing, providing an unobstructed view.

Modern Aesthetics: Their sleek design adds a contemporary touch to your home.

Greater Flexibility: The retractable feature allows homeowners to use the screen only when needed.

Durability: Roll-up flyscreens are often more durable due to their protected storage when not in use.

Conclusion:

A roll-up flyscreen is a practical and stylish solution for keeping insects out while maintaining a fresh and airy living environment. Its space-saving design, ease of use, and versatility make it an excellent choice for modern homes. By investing in a roll-up flyscreen, you can enjoy the perfect balance between comfort and functionality, ensuring a pest-free and aesthetically pleasing living space.

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How Pleated Screens Can Complement Open-Plan Living Spaces

Open-plan living spaces have become a popular choice in modern homes. They create a seamless flow between different areas, allowing more natural light and improving ventilation. However, one of the biggest challenges of open-plan designs is maintaining privacy while keeping the space functional and stylish. This is where pleated screens come in.

Pleated screens provide a flexible solution for open-plan homes, offering protection from insects, better airflow, and an elegant touch to interiors. Whether you want to divide spaces or enhance outdoor connectivity, pleated screens can be a valuable addition.

1. Enhancing Airflow and Ventilation

One of the main advantages of open-plan living is improved airflow. However, keeping doors and windows open can invite insects and dust into the home. Pleated screens help solve this issue by allowing fresh air to circulate while keeping pests out.

They work well for balcony doors, patio entrances, and large windows.

They maintain a light and airy feel while ensuring protection.

They can be retracted when not in use, preserving the open-plan aesthetic.

2. Seamless Indoor-Outdoor Transition

Modern homes often feature large sliding or folding doors to connect indoor spaces with outdoor patios or gardens. Pleated screens are perfect for such settings because they:

Provide a barrier-free design, allowing smooth movement.

Offer unobstructed views while keeping insects out.

Can be custom-fitted to match large openings, ensuring seamless integration.

With a pleated screen, you can enjoy the beauty of nature while maintaining a comfortable indoor environment.

3. Flexible Space Division

Although open-plan layouts are ideal for socializing and creating a spacious feel, there are times when dividing areas becomes necessary. Pleated screens offer a smart and stylish way to create temporary partitions.

They can separate kitchen and dining areas, helping to manage cooking odors.

They work well in home offices, providing privacy without closing off the space.

They can create a cozy nook in large living rooms for a more intimate setting.

Since they are retractable, you can switch between open and divided layouts effortlessly.

4. Modern Aesthetics and Versatile Designs

Pleated screens are designed to blend seamlessly with modern interiors. Unlike traditional bulky screens, these come with sleek frames and stylish finishes that complement any decor.

Available in neutral colors to match walls and furniture.

Slim profiles maintain a minimalist look.

Customizable sizes to fit any opening, from large glass doors to small windows.

They add a touch of sophistication while keeping the space functional and airy.

5. Low Maintenance and Easy Operation

One of the biggest concerns with traditional screens is their maintenance. Pleated screens are designed for convenience and durability.

Made with dust-resistant materials, reducing the need for frequent cleaning.

Smooth sliding mechanisms ensure easy operation.

Strong mesh fabric withstands regular use without sagging or tearing.

For even more convenience, motorized pleated screens are available, allowing remote-controlled operation for effortless usage.

6. Barrier-Free Systems for Accessibility

Pleated screens also come with barrier-free systems, which means there are no raised tracks on the floor. This feature makes them:

Safe for children and elderly family members.

Ideal for wheelchair access, ensuring smooth movement.

Perfect for high-traffic areas where tripping hazards must be avoided.

With this design, pleated screens maintain both practicality and elegance.

Conclusion

Pleated screens are a smart investment for open-plan living spaces. They provide better airflow, seamless indoor-outdoor transitions, stylish space division, and a modern aesthetic. With easy maintenance and innovative barrier-free systems, they offer both functionality and elegance.

For those looking for added convenience, Pleated Screens Motorized and Pleated Barrier Free System options are available, making home living even more comfortable and stylish.