#no beta read YET

[ruinix]

Quinn with a size kink. Out of his mind aroused fucking his girl who is a lot smaller than him.

Lovely anon, lovely.. i don't write.I mean, I do but i've never tried an RPF or drabble. Just fictional men on my secret AO3. So I don't want to disappoint but i'll try for you... It won't be good though so yes, put the bar down. I beg 🧎🏻‍♀️

How does one do this? CW/TW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Size Kink (as requested...slightly if you squint), Mild choking, Unprotected sex (please use protection)

You are so small. Quinn fucking loves that. It's not your height. No. It's everything else.

It's your hands that seek his every time you two go out. The same ones that run down his back, his nape, his hair. Your trimmed nails--or your acrylics--that scratches his scalp. You are always so gentle in touching him that he would always fall asleep on you, beside you, or underneath you. So small as you dig them into his skin as he fucks you long and deep.

It's your feet on his palms when he helps you wear your heels. Your ankles are so easily dwarfed by his hands when he fastens the anklets--with both of your initials engraved on the little silver hearts--he gifted you for your birthday. So tiny as he kisses them when he puts them over his shoulder, his cock filling every inch of your wet cunt.

It's your soft and supple lips giving him featherlight kisses. On his cheek, his jaw, his nose, his eyelids, his eyebrows, then his lips. It always ends with his lips. Your kisses are soft and warm and oh, so careful. Until he shoves his tongue pass your lips, swallowing your needy gasps and whines.

It's your neck that was a blank canvas before him. You've never liked necklaces until he gifted you one after another. Every time you give him a hug, he would smell your choice of perfume for the day--vanilla, rose, lavender, jasmine, blackberry, caramel, or whatever the fuck, you simply smells beautiful. So pretty and delicate with his hand wrapped around it, feeling your pulse the vibrations of your soft moans, controlling your breaths, your oxygen, your life. Your hand grips his wrist, the silvery glint of your matching bracelets only made him squeeze. So fucking small.

It's your thick thighs that you always moisturize with lotion. He's reaping the benefits of touching them when you let him. Of looking at them when you wear your little panties around the apartment. Of seeing them be covered with jeans or sweatpants or pajamas. Of seeing them spread wide, trembling and quivering as his cock disappears into your pussy between them. Of seeing them so wet with your mess, so red from his slaps, his grip, his thrusts.

It's your soft voice. One time you said you had a strange voice, but it's never strange. You sound so beautiful. He can listen to you ramble about your day, your problems, your interests without getting sick of your voice. Your voice is music, melodic, tantalizingly exquisite. So high and whiney as he slows down to keep your orgasm at bay. So hypnotic that he almost let you cum right then and there.

It's your eyes that are always so understanding and patient even when he came home frustrated from a game loss. Your eyes that will smile and crinkle at the sides, already knowing his excitement when he's keeping it at bay. You see his soul. He sees yours. He sees when your happy or sad or angry or upset or zoned out. So devastatingly beautiful as your eyes burn when he's not moving as you would like. So breathtaking when your pupils dilate when he started fucking you harder.

You're so fucking small yet you take him so well.

Your pussy that felt like it's custom-made for him. Always so wet. Always so eager for his taking. Your pussy tightens, quivering around his cock. The sounds of your groans and his, of his cock sinking into your pussy, are getting to his head.

Small. So fucking small that he wants to consume all of you. Your pussy. Your face. Your body. Your gentle and soft and warm soul. How can perfection fits so well in your small body?

He wants all of you that it fucking aches that this would have to stop. So he prolongs it. He fucks you slower when he can feel you almost cumming again and again and again. He kisses you, hungry for your taste, hungry for your whines.

He's so close, but not yet. Not fucking yet because he has to fuck you until you couldn't live on without him. Until you go as feral that you would finally shout at him. His little ball of fire. He wants you to fucking crave him as much as he already does.

[nerdallwritey]

Just to Ruin Me

Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”

Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.

Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood. 

This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-

Astarion whacked you in the face.

Your eyes shot open.

“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings. 

It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn. 

At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact. 

Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…

No.

No, that wasn’t your fight. 

But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-

Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling. 

Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.

How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear. 

That… would not be pleasant. 

You shifted to sit up and look around.

Ow.

A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.

No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.

Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.

Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on! 

You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering. 

You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.

“Astarion,” you sang quietly. 

Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?

You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”

Nothing.

Okay fine. 

“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.

“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you. 

You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”

You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”

“So you assaulted me?”

“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”

“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. 

“Are you okay?”

“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead. 

You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”

Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”

“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him. 

He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”

You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”

“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”

You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”

Astarion pursed his lips.

“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”

A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”

You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”

“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”

You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”

He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,��� from what I recall.”

You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap. 

He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?

When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”

You giggled. “What?”

“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“Wait, no-”

You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”

He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.” 

You shrugged, pleased with yourself.

“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”

“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.

Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”

The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably. 

“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck. 

You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”

Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back. 

“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”

He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”

“I just thought of something,” you said.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.

“Can I borrow your fangs?”

“My-?” His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.

“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure. 

“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.

“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.

“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked. 

“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.

“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

You smiled at him. “Yes.”

He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do. 

Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion. 

“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder. 

“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”

After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.

“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”

You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”

Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.

His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”

“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder. 

You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it. 

“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.

You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening. 

Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh. 

“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”

You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.

“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair. 

“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.

“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?” 

You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.

Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix. 

You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.

Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more. 

“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.

“More of a question, really,” he clarified.

You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally. 

“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.

It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.

When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”

Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”

You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap. 

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”

“I did not!” You protested.

“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”

You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”

Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.

The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink. 

“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.

“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help. 

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants. 

“Sorry,” you said.

Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”

You held up your hands innocently. 

He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.

“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”

You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?

Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.

“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.

“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.

“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.

“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”

“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.

You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.

Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee. 

He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.” 

You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next. 

“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly. 

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.” 

You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him. 

He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”

You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder. 

“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.” 

Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”

You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”

“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”

“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”

Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” 

You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”

“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.” 

Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.

Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky. 

“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”

Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”

Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”

“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke. 

“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’” 

You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.

“What a prick.”

He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”

“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”

The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.” 

You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”

You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.

“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”

“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.

Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.

You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”

You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield. 

When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”

You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”

“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”

“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”

“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.

He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.

“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow. 

“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”

That hurt. 

You said as much. “Ouch.”

“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”

Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid. 

“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”

You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.

“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”

A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.

He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”

“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.

Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”

“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”

He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on. 

“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.

You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace. 

His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”

Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”

You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?

Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.

Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”

“Then by all means.”

You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small. 

“Do you… want to be with me?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”

“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you. 

Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now. 

“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”

Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.

“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”

You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek. 

Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”

You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.

Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”

Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.

“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”

That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”

Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”

You humphed.

“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”

“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”

“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”

You exhaled and nodded for him to continue. 

“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”

“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”

That made you smile softly. 

He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out. 

Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”

“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”

You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”

Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.” 

You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.

“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”

You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.

“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”

You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”

Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”

You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”

Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”

“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”

Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.

“You said you wanted to be decapitated.” 

“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow. 

“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”

Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”

“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”

You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.

“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.

“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”

You pulled back and looked at him curiously.

Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.

“I did have a knife.”

You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards. 

He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply. 

“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”

You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right. 

You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.

He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.” 

You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.

He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”

“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again. 

He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.

“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed. 

He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.” 

You pursed your lips, disappointed. 

“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”

You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”

You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably. 

“What is it, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you. 

“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.

You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”

You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”

Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”

You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”

You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side. 

“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”

You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.

Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~

You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face. 

You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead. 

“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.

Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly. 

You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly. 

“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously. 

He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.

“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.

“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.” 

“They’re coming,” you hissed.

“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance. 

“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline. 

You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands. 

“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed. 

“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?” 

“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”

“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”

“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you. 

Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged. 

“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look. 

“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly. 

You groaned and hid your face in your hands again. 

“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly. 

“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”

Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”

Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”

“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”

“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said. 

“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered. 

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.

“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”

Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”

“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

He shrugged. “What?”

You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions. 

“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”

“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”

“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.

“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly. 

“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended. 

“Like what you see?” Astarion teased. 

“Astarion,” you scolded. 

He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip. 

You went red as you watched your companions track his hand. 

“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious. 

You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire. 

“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”

“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.

“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.

“Oh my gods,” you groaned.

“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly. 

Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both. 

You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly. 

“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.” 

“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll. 

“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.

You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said. 

A small smile appeared on his face in return.

Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.

Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand. 

Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?” 

“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated. 

“Gale…” you said sorrowfully. 

“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”

Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered. 

“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”

“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale. 

“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.

“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby. 

She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck. 

“You’re happy?” She asked softly.

“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”

She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion. 

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”

Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”

“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”

“I got it,” he said flatly. 

“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”

“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly. 

When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone. 

You let out a heavy sigh.

“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.

“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.

“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.

You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”

“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”

You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.” 

It made you laugh. “Okay.”

You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on. 

When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm. 

Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.

“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”

“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard. 

You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan. 

Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”

“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows. 

All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.

“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”

His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”

Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”

“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees. 

You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”

“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.

“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly. 

“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly. 

You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”

“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

You snorted. “Bad.”

“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”

Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”

You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.

“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”

You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”

A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”

He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.

“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously. 

Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs. 

A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.

Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”

“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.

He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt. 

You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly. 

“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy. 

“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”

You nodded, your eyes shut tight. 

“Words, darling.”

“Another…” you said breathily.

“Another what?”

Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”

He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”

You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”

“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger. 

You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”

“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again. 

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed. 

Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at him. 

He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”

Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”

Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”

You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”

“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear. 

“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”

“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax. 

You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”

Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”

A relieved sigh escaped you. 

“We could always work our way up-”

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly. 

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“No, of course not-”

“But we can-”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.

“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”

You inhaled. “Yes.”

Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”

“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass. 

“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable. 

“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.

He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”

“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile. 

He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night. 

You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.

He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard. 

“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly. 

“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat. 

“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.

“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.

“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”

He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.” 

He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed. 

The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy. 

Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state. 

“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”

Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”

“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck. 

“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”

“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin. 

His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.

“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.

“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing. 

“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”

You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more. 

“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you. 

The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily. 

“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm. 

After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.

Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.” 

You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.

“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth. 

Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”

Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”

“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”

“And that’s important because-?”

“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”

“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes. 

You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time. 

Incredibly, you both looked presentable. 

“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.

You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows. 

“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”

“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back. 

He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly. 

You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.

Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”

“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“And second, multiple trips, darling.”

“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”

Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire. 

“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments. 

“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”

“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.

“What about it?”

“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased. 

“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”

“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.

Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.

“Yeah, but you like being mushy.” 

“I do not.”

“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.” 

“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.

“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”

He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”

You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”

Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.

If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together. 

You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.

Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire. 

You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”

He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”

“I hope she kills you first.”

You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath. 

And stepped into camp. 

[princema-k]

THE LIVING MUSEUM: CHAPTER 1

(interactive puzzle at the bottom!)

As luck would have it, the detective had a case that had just been given to her by the Chief Constable Barton (talk about a high order!) I watched as she leafed through the folders on her desk before slipping out a small stack of papers and bringing them over to me. Clearing her throat, Detective Layton ran over the details…

“At approximately 2:00pm, a fire alarm in the Natural History Museum sounded. Around 5 minutes later, visitors in the museum reported that they witnessed several exhibits, and I quote, ‘come to life before their eyes.’ There were visitors who told officials that the suits of armour on display had started to move and raise their weapons, visitors who reported that paintings on the walls started to melt and blink, and visitors who said that the dinosaur skeleton exhibits had opened their mouths and moved their heads. But the most damning of all seemed to be the Tyrannosaurus rex exhibit, who not just moved but assumed a lunging stance with its full body, as well as somehow roared.”

“Right, that’s odd. And?”

“Well, since the officials were only able to question the visitors outside of the museum due to everyone having been evacuated because of the fire alarm, naturally they went inside to check the exhibits themselves.”

“And they found…?”

“Nothing. They did a whole sweep of the area, but they found nothing out of place. All exhibits were in their normal places, the paintings were just fine, and everything was untouched.”

“Wow…”

“I assume the reason that Barton held onto what information they had on it and handed it to me was due to the witnesses. Despite the fact that the Yard found no obvious signs of tampering, everyone swears up and down the walls that the museum had seemingly come to life at that moment.”

“...That is a proper mystery. And these files are all we have on the matter?”

“Well, in a sense, yes. These are all the files we have,” Detective Layton muses as she taps the bottom of the stack on the coffee table. Then, getting up, she drops the stack back in their folder. “...Which is why I was thinking of heading over to the museum myself to do a bit of personal investigation.”

“As expected of the great Professor Layton,” I say cheekily as I stand and follow her to the front door, grabbing my jacket off the hanger in the process. The detective sighs lightly as she places her hat on her head, pulling the brim over her eyes in mock disappointment. “Please, Ms. Altava. It's just Detective.”

Now lifting the brim, she smiles brightly as she grabs her umbrella.

“So, Ms. Altava… let’s go investigate this living museum with our own two eyes, shall we?”

And with that, our adventure into the peculiar museum begi-

“Ah, but before that, I have here the directions to the museum written for me by Barton, and it seems to be a puzzle of some sort. As you’re now my assistant, why don’t you give it a shot? Think of it as a warm-up of things to come.”

…Right. She’s Layton’s daughter, after all. How could I have forgotten? …And are we sure they're not really related by blood…?

PUZZLE 1: Where's The Museum?

Take your time and think about the answer, or Flora (and the puzzle master) will be very disappointed in you...!

A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J (Need a hint?: 1 | 2 | 3)

(thanks to @justkillingthyme for beta reading, and several mutuals for puzzle testing!)

[splickedylit]

Can't believe I thought I was almost ready to start posting this GamKar winter soldier pastiche like two years ago on halloween it's grown by several hundred pages and 100,000+ words since then. Current count is 325 pages, 167,000 words, 15 chapters. fukkin UNIT of a fic

EDIT for my own personal satisfaction:

10/25: 167,000

10/29: 174,700

10/31: 180,460

11/7: 185,775

11/18: 189,500

[momentomori24]

Keiji is a character that I'm pretty sure every one of us can recognize is an absolute weirdo (ok maybe some are too hard on copium for the "weirdo" part) and sketchy as hell, but thinking about everything he's done it really feels like he's so much shady and ruthless than we give him credit for. So here's me bulletpointing some the moments that I haven't seen too many talk about, a little theory throwing his status into question and addressing the massive elephant in the room that almost everyone refuses to acknowledge. If there's something else you feel I missed or wanted to evaluate on, do leave it in the comments.

[Also, disclaimer: I will be discussing Keiji and Sara in a romantic light near the end of this post, so if that makes you uncomfortable please proceed with caution or skip entirely. This should go without saying but for my own sake I will say it anyway-- No, I do not condone their relationship in real life. No, this is not meant to be "shippy" or endorsement of any kind. This will simply be pointing out their dynamic as another example to prove the whole point of this rant. But if someone else does ship them that's totally fine. Fiction doesn't equal reality and if you harass a real person over fictional characters you will not see the light of heaven. Be civil, please and thank you. My block button is rated E for Everyone and if anyone decides to ignore the warnings and be an asshole I won't hesitate to use it. Thanks for listening. Disclaimer over.]

*Being a murderer.

I feel like I should start with the most obvious and undeniable. I don't think this is debatable to anyone here. Mr. Policeman may have been an accident and kinda confirmed by Midori to have been set up, but he still shot and killed an unarmed man in a moment of panic and recklessness. Even putting that aside, there's no denying that he killed Megumi in cold blood to get out of his debt to her and covered it up to the group to preserve his credibility. Regardless of what you think of Megumi, he has no excuse here. Not only is he one more kill away from being a serial killer, he's the only participant in our group that has actually killed people directly aside from Alice. Another reason why I bring this up is cuz something that completely flew over my head is this:

At the start of the game he had the audacity to complain about not having a partner or someone he knows with him like Sara does as if he didn't literally let Megumi get ripped apart by chains probably not even an hour ago Keiji what the hell--

*Throwing Kanna under the bus repeatedly.

Despite positioning himself as a protector and someone to rely on, he's far from above putting their youngest members in danger. Next to voting for the fourteen year old girl to die, he had the great idea of letting said fourteen year old be the one to babysit their biggest liability. Up to the point where they would stay in the same room both day and night. While I absolutely 100% trust that Sou would never EVER do anything to her, Keiji had no guarantee of that when he send her off. Hell, he literally just got done accusing Sou of setting Joe up to die (which I don't believe almost solely based on the fact that he said it, more on that another time maybe). He knew Sou was bad news, and openly acknowledges how adults can be terrifying, but he did it anyway. The dubiety of throwing the already traumatised little girl to keep watch on what they thought to be the most dangerous adult that had manipulated her once before is not lost on me, and that he didn't take any responsibility for her afterwards isn't lost on me either. To be fair, the Sou and Kanna thing doesn't just fall on him, it falls on everybody (Alice gets a pass because he actually swapped out with Kanna to watch Sou for her), but he was the one with the final say on the matter and who encouraged her to take the role despite Reko's rightful protests. The fact that he also voted for her to die in the Main Game, and is the only adult to do so, doesn’t help his case.

*Attempting to frame Sou knowing Reko was actually responsible.

While you could argue he was trying to cover for her since he knew why she did what she did, trying to pin this act on Sou to cast more doubt on his is extremely shitty. Never mind the blatant corruption and the irony of a supposed man of the law abusing his power to knowingly frame an innocent person (in this situation at least), and him sowing more seeds of confusion and resentment within an already rattled group, and giving Sou legitimate reason to be suspicious of him (and by extension Sara)-- this makes it so difficult to trust him after realising he's done this. Literally every time he accuses someone of being or doing something suspicious (mostly Sou), I always have to think in the back of my head if he’s telling the truth or just telling a blatant lie. He's shown that he's willing to not only lie to cover for himself, but to lie to delegitimize someone else. And Sara never caught onto it (Sou and maybe even Nao likely did tho). She never openly acknowledged it-- No one did. The complete lack of mention of what he did here makes this action quite missable. Hell, I didn't even catch it the first time. Has he done this before? Who else has he lied about? Who else would he lie about? Who else would he knowingly pit against the group? You don't have to wait for that answer, because I will provide an example later. And with "later", I mean now.

*Casting suspicion on Gin before the vote while hiding the fact that he killed Megumi.

While it's not as blatant as with Kanna, there are two instances where Keiji shows a readiness to either put or leave Gin in harm's way. The biggest one for me is in the Main Game. Like, how dare you. That is a furry child, sir. This kid’s like TWELVE. Even though he makes a valid point about calling out suspicious actions to clear them up so we can all trust each other, casting doubt on Gin of all people right there feels pretty screwed to me. This was before the preliminary vote. His words could’ve very well gotten Gin voted for if he couldn’t disclose why he did what he did for whatever reason and therefore being unable to clear himself from suspicion. It’s even more fucked when you realise that Keiji has literally murdered his partner and is currently planning to get Sou killed while giving this whole spiel about doubting others so that we can believe them and pointing the finger at a little kid to make an example to the group. But when Nao, Sou and Sara call him out on his suspicious actions that could rightfully damage his credibility, he tries to shut them down completely. My brother in Christ, you brought it on FIRST (don’t get me wrong I’m very much aware he didn’t really mean the whole “trusting each other” bit but come on dude)--

Speaking about not meaning what he says:

*Letting the group think he’s Ok to vote for knowing he’s the Keymaster.

This kinda got to me because I thought this was Keiji actually being… vulnerable? Accepting the consequences of his actions and allowing them to vote for him in their distrust without protest even tho it could cost him his life, maybe. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t remember a lot of times-- or any times, really-- where Keiji has willing put himself into the line of fire, at this point at least. He always finds a way to keep himself safe, give himself insurance, and I thought that this would be the one time he doesn’t do that. But this feels so ominous looking back knowing that he was the Keymaster the whole time. That our distrust and betrayal and his resignation to it all didn’t matter because he was going to be safe no matter what. That he knowingly allowed us to assume that he was a safe vote because he didn’t want his plan to kill Sou to be ruined, which narrowed down choice of people we can safely vote for even further. That this action is ultimately the reason why Sou and Kanna were our only options to kill off in the end. If he had admitted it there, we could’ve found someone else to vote for so our final options could consist of three people, not two. But he didn’t, and the rest is history. There’s a lot of things he’s done I can’t get over. This one ranks pretty high. The second Main Game is already a huge sore spot for me for obvious reasons; knowing that a lot of the things that happened were due to his inaction where it truly mattered and activity in all the wrong places doesn’t make me fee any better. He didn't say he was a safe vote-- he didn't lie-- but his words carefully omit that voting for him means a total party death, something he should've stated then (and before this, really).

*Leaving Sara with the sacrifice card.

Despite making a big show about “always being by her side” and being her “reliable policeman”, he chose to look away when she was in real danger. He attached himself to her as her right hand man, made her shoulder the responsibility of being the leader, constantly manipulated and flattered her to win her trust and gain her favour-- but when she needed him the most, he basically left her for dead because it was the most beneficial to him. Keep in mind that not only did he know about her getting the sacrifice (he was also the sage so he'd have seen the trade happen), but he had the tokens to help her get rid of it. But those tokens weren’t for her life. They were for his. He used them instead to give himself the Keymaster as insurance for the Main Game (the Keymaster he stole from Sou/Kanna most likely to buy Sara’s trust btw). His desperation for survival outweighed his sense of obligation to keep her safe, and that’s the most subtle yet transparent he’s been about his selfishness. What makes this so much worse is that Keiji is our support character. He’s an ally, and our closest one at that, to the point where Sara burned her hands in a futile attempt to rescue him and signed her life away to save his. And yet his loyalty and protectiveness pale in comparison to other characters. Compare his actions to Sou’s: one of their many parallels and similarities is that both their girls get hit with the sacrifice card. As we’ve established, Keiji was fully aware of Sara being send the sacrifice by Sou, had 50 tokens ready to go and chose to secure his own survival than save her life. Kanna ended up doing it instead, attempting to trade the card off Sara with Sou realising what happened immediately. And what does Sou do? Completely bend over backwards trying to keep her alive. He lied about being the Sacrifice so the others wouldn’t suspect Kanna of having that role, meaning he could try gathering vote for her without anyone seeing his true intentions. He tried to stop her about coming out with the truth of what she had done so she doesn’t sentence herself to death. After everything he did to survive-- after how much he lied, how much he schemed, how much he hurt, and how he had thrown himself away to replace everything that made him Shin with the man that had traumatised him years before the game began to scrape together even the tiniest chance to survive-- he threw it all to the wind and was willing to let it all be in vain if it meant she got to make it out of the Main Game alive. The worst part is that Sou had never intended to make it through that Main Game. He confessed to already knowing that Kanna would choose Sara over him if she truly had the Sacrifice card. Yet he still did what he did all in the hopes that she could win. Because it was all about her survival first, not about them surviving together.

It also gives a different context to Sou's panic and him stumbling over his words trying to come up with any argument to get them to stop. At first I thought that Sou was afraid for his life. Which would make sense-- Keiji and Q-taro set him up to die and seemed pretty adamant on having everyone voting for him to get it all over with. But he was already prepared to die the minute he realised Kanna traded with Sara. So it means it wasn’t his life he was fearing for here-- it was hers. To him, if they voted for him there, it wouldn’t have just been his end but hers too. But we know that Kanna isn’t the one who has the sacrifice. It’s Nao, and considering how the Main Game can end either or both of them dead, I wonder if he regrets not having given up there, not letting Keiji get away with that shitty stunt he pulled knowing it would’ve at least guaranteed her safety than leave her fate in hands of a girl with enough reason to kill her. Ignoring the sounds of my heart shattering into pieces for the 100th time thinking about the Greenblings, it’s so fascinating that our biggest rival and most distrusted member has a greater sense of loyalty and responsibility for his ally than Keiji has for his own. Sou can be a liar and manipulative and selfish, but for how unpredictable he is something I can always trust is his love for those he holds dear (Kanna) and general desire to protect our most vulnerable (Gin). Sou loves Kanna, and so he’s fine with protecting her even if it comes at a price he never wanted to pay. Keiji surely cares about Sara, but unfortunately that is something I can’t say about him-- at least at that time (also the fact that Sou ended up taking more care and responsibility for Kanna despite Keiji having been the one to throw her on him in the first is so ironic).

*Continuously pushing Sara to take on the role of leader.

I think one of Keiji's biggest failures in the game come from his treatment of Sara despite positioning himself as her most reliable ally and her partner. From the very get-go, he was very adamant of making Sara be the one to shoulder the responsibility of the group. He, along with Joe (he didn't do anything wrong here), pushed Sara to be the Challenger during the Russian Roulette, despite Q-taro and Kai being readily available. He made Sara be the one to interrogate the suspicious convict while distancing himself from the situation. And he encourages her to lead them through the Main Game, lets her make the choices that steer them all forward and as a consequence take the fall for them as well. Rather than take on the role himself, or let another adult take it, he places his full trust in her and makes her shoulder everyone's weight so he doesn't have to. And he can see the effect it has on her: having horrific hallucinations due to the immense guilt she feels. But having Sara as their leader gives him a greater shot at survival and helps his credibility, so even though he tries to provide her comfort he still continues to keep her in that role. Again, the high schooler taking responsibility for the adults falls on a lot of the older people here, but Keiji was the one who kickstarted it rather than just go along with it like everyone else had. Gin, Nao, Kanna, Reko and even fucking Sou to an extent all have moments where they take the burden off her and relieve her of that pain she shoulders all the time (or at least try to). I need Keiji to take more responsibility for both the group and for her.

*Pitting Sara and Joe against each other.

This is just another example of the previous point. This isn't as bad, and I could give him the benefit of the doubt that this might have not been intentional, but it's something I want to bring up regardless. I'll be the first to say that Keiji wasn't wrong here. Prying into everyone's votes is a very bad move, especially since no one knew that Mishima would actually die (it was introduced as a practice round, after all). I agree with him, Joe was being rash, but instead of leaving the conversation there, he decided to throw Sara into it to pick a side. Which is... not good. He already won the argument and already had Reko on his side. Bringing in Sara could not only make Joe feel worse and potentially strain their relationship (especially if she rightfully chooses Keiji's side like he was expecting and hoping for), but just puts Sara in the spotlight during something she doesn't want to be part of. While there's a chance he might've done this because he know Joe is more likely to listen to her than him, he should've known better than that. It again makes her take the responsibility of giving the final verdict that would've otherwise gone to him.

*Asking Sara to take responsibility for his life

I've got nothing other that the grown adult swearing his life to the grieving, unstable teenager to take responsibility for while asking her if she'd die along with him is weird as heck. Keiji's said weirder things prior to this, but this one is a different weird. I think Beanieman's post mostly echoes my thoughts on this on, so I'll link it here for this point. This part kinda bothers me:

He shouldn't be encouraging her taking on anymore responsibility than she already is. He knows that the deaths that happened under her leadership haunt her. He knows that she's very much unstable enough already, to the point where he takes baby-steps to avoid triggering her trauma over Joe. He positioned himself as her reliable partner, her rock to lean on (quite literally sometimes). We see first hand how emotionally dependent she is on him. If he died, it would destroy her-- she'd destroy herself over it. He knows this (or should) but he still does it. His disappointment and dismissiveness when she understandably rejects him makes it worse. The guilt of potentially not living up to his expectations is not what she needs.

*Potentially working for Asunaro

This is more ambiguous than everything else here and more a theory than anything but it's been on my mind for a long time that Ranmaru might actually be onto something here. We know that Asunaro has a strong hold on the police. Midori was able to infiltrate the force, and they were able to get rid of Mr. Policeman for looking into the corruption going on, first having Megumi fire him and secondly getting Keiji to kill him by planting false info about the suspect having a gun. Megumi was also able to get Keiji off the hook for murder, which I believe Asunaro had a hand in too (I theorize this might've been her wish). There's also Alice, who was arrested and sent to prison despite the fact that he (legally) didn't kill anyone since Midori was a doll. The police are connected to Asunaro-- by extension Megumi and extending further potentially Keiji.

Something I've seen someone rightfully point out is that neither of the options you're given to say in response to the accusation... actually deny it? Both choices dance around answering directly, which is suspect as fuck. If Keiji truly wasn't with Asunaro, why not shut that theory down immediately? There's no benefit to answering anything but "no" when he's innocent, and he's lied straight to people's faces for less. So why not just debunk it? I think it's cuz there might be some truth to what Ranmaru was saying here. The biggest reason I think this is because despite the fact that Keiji quit the force, he and Megumi were still associating with each other years later. They were kidnapped together and partnered up for their first trial. One missable piece of dialogue is Keiji admitting that he was with his partner-- or rather a "coworker"-- before getting knocked out.

That slip of the tongue and backtracking makes me believe this part to be true. Him switching from "my partner" to "a coworker", which is a lot more distant and impersonal, makes me think it's got to be Megumi. However, I don't believe that Keiji would wanna keep in touch with her after what happened willingly, so I can only imagine that it's due to that debt he has to her. My little game theory here is that after the shooting, the debt he owed her was a forced recruitment into Asunaro. It's the only thing I can imagine he meant by "the worst kind of debt", a debt he'd literally let her die for to get out of. And if this is true, then it could also explain away his instant attachment to Sara, since he'd know beforehand that she's someone he can depend on due to her having the highest chance at survival. Maybe he already knew about her beforehand, one way or the other. We know Hayasaka did (which I think we as a fandom moved on from way too fast btw). Kai and Sou did too. There's always a chance. And unlike Sou's victory rate and Midori's favourite number, it's not zero. One person made a comic about this idea I recommend checking it out, it's tastefully unsettling. But still very much unsetling and uncomfortale. Be warned that it's also Keisara-centred, so if that makes you even more uncomfortable they did the job right you can ignore it. Proceed with caution or don't read if you don't like.

*Being a predator

I have been waiting so long for this one XD For context: a while ago I made a longpost discussing the sanitisation of soushin and this kind of toxic attitudes in fandoms regarding "problematic content" (ships, characters, shows, you name it). In it, I mentioned that it's not only soushin that receives this treatment but a certain other dynamic too. It's not a rainy day, however this has been way overdue and if I don't get this done now I never will.

Something I've seen a lot, and I mean a LOT-LOT is this notion that Keiji acts "like a father" to Sara and that their relationship is a completely platonic father-daughter bond and that he's the resident dad of the group? Like, it's cute, but that's not at all what their relationship is. At all. Not even a little bit. We called Sou and Kanna siblings before the Greenblings reveal. The difference is that not only does half the fandom think this man is gay, but he's only ever been protective and caring and loving without any romantic intentions towards Kanna ever. His title as her brother was deserved, based on the genuine affection and platonic protectiveness similar to that of Alice's. Keiji has made advances tho, on many occasions, and his flirting is repeatedly acknowledged by other characters. Namely Sou and Reko.

(Sou grills him for being a creep every chance he gets I love him XD) But yeah, these are not the type of reactions and comments you receive when being a "father-figure" to the teenager. You get all this when you hit on the teenager. Which he does all the time by calling her "cute" every time she asks something and his "cute little detective", swearing himself to her by saying that "he's always on her side" or something like that, asking her if she'd die alongside him, repeatedly claiming or insinuating that they're on a date, or ""having a moment"" and going to ""take the next step"" when in private (*cough* groomer *cough*)-- you name it, he likely said it. He's a walking-talking ladykiller machine and teenage girls aren't safe, apparently.

(Quick note: The dialogue for the Russian Roulette one is a tad different now. In the new translation he says "cause you're so darn cute" now. I dunno if that makes it sound any less weird, but I felt like putting that out there. What I'm also putting out there is that according to the trivia he calls her cute 8 times throughout the game so. Yeah. *Cough* groomer *COUGH COUGH*)

Like, who tf says this?? Especially that last part 💀 Even if you wanna die on the hill that these are supposed to be "jokes" not to be taken seriously, we should all be able to agree that the (ex)police officer in his late 20s jokingly hitting on the high schooler he follows around is still weirdo behaviour at best and down right despicable at worst. The fandom seeing lowkey predatory/inappropriate behaviour from a figure of authority persistent for almost three entire chapters and dismissing it as "fatherly" and "platonic" is, well, concerning. It's very concerning. If your dad acts like Keiji, you should probably call the police. Unfortunately for Sara, Keiji is the police. And considering this guy got away with manslaughter, I don't think said police would do anything anywho. But yeah-- he uses flattery and flirting to distract her from prodding to much at him while simultaneously aiming to gain favour in her eyes. He showers her with reassurance of his loyalty and affirmation of his deeper attachment towards her and her alone every chance he gets to cement his position as her closest and most trustworthy ally. He insinuates a romantic partnership between them to others to mostly keep her to himself or the two of them alone (he always does that when they're investigating or going to investigate by themselves). There's such an obvious romantic undertone to their relationship and his actions that it going almost completely ignored in the fandom feels weird to me.

I want to make clear that there's nothing wrong with headcanoning Keiji as a father figure to Sara. It's cute. Keiji didn't have a dad himself, and the closest thing to a father figure he had was the man he shot dead. He's a damaged and hardened guy. But Sara's dad is involved with Asunaro and Gin's is an alcoholic, and in a situation where they both need guidence and protection he tries his best to grow and change, fumbling to become that decent father none of them got to have. It's nice, and a wholesome dynamic for our "characters with memorandum counterparts and only non-determined deaths" trio. But that's obviously not what their dynamic is. There's a difference between headcanoning something and erasing canon and the Yttd fandom leans heavily into the latter. Keiji's a creep, he always has been, yet 90% of people I see always portray him as a Mr. Dad Guy or completely sanitise him to hell when him being creepy and unnerving to be around is what made him such a fascinating character. Just like I said with Soushin, the sanitisation to make canon more digestible is one thing: harassing or insulting the people that explore canon is another. I'm gonna take a bullet, derail this rant and say it-- Keisara shippers get so much shit for literally being right it's so infuriating. Keiji does hit on Sara, a lot. He's creepy and weird like that. Him flirting with her isn't a "mistranslation" or a joke or anything like that; his dubious wording and antics are very much intentional. Yet the only people I see actually addressing and acknowledging that without adding fluff is keisara shippers and other ""proshippers"" only for them to get fucking sniped for it I cannot 💀💀 I have yet to meet a single eastern fan who calls this cop "fatherly". This really feels like such a western issue cuz the majority of the japanese fandom agrees that this man's a predator (correct me if i'm wrong but keisara is the most popular ship in the japanese side of the fandom, right?). Then again, eastern fandoms are more chill over there when it comes to separating fiction and reality in general anywho.

*Yeah, I think I'm done with the Keiji slander. Yay. Time to unceremoniously end this.

There's more to say about that, but this is a Keiji post, not another shipping discourse post (although it's hard discussing Keiji's predatory behaviour without bringing it up too). Before I do spiral from the original point, I'm going to try and reach some sort of conclusion here. While I did spent the majority of this post just reading Keiji to filth, and am very salty towards him in particular, this was not just to rake him through mud for my own sanity (tho it's part of it XD). Keiji's character is that he started off as someone who wanted to do the right thing, someone who wanted to be good and moral and protect others by joining the force only to kill all the progress he made along with the person who inspired him to become an officer in the first place. It heavily contrasts the Keiji we have now, a sleazy, unreliable and corrupt ex detective who flirts with underage girls and is willing to resort to the most bankrupt of decisions to save himself. A man that has long lost hope of his wounds healing that he lets them fester and his rot spread onto others. And while I headcanon Keiji to just inherently be a piece of shit, his former self tried his best to be genuinely good before he became so convinced he can never be better that he made peace with his shittiness in the end.

With all this I wanted to highlight some the shadier and bankrupt things he's done that I haven't seen much discussion around and refresh myself on them before the final part. Both so no matter how emotionally dependent and therefore rose-tinted Sara is about the man I don't forget what he's actually like and what he's done while also being able to appreciate how much he's changed for the better. Some of my favourite examples about how he's changed are these:

Before the second Main Game Keiji was willing to let Sara and Kanna die because it was the most beneficial option for him, but in Chapter 3 he takes the on the role of "it" from Kanna and refuses to tag Sara when he thought he was gonna die after failing to beat Midori.

Actually showing more sympathy towards Sou after the Main Game. He was very mean about dismantling his pretence of a cold front to Kanna's death, don't get me wrong, but he showed a lot more consideration and understanding for Sou's feelings and acknowledgement about his active role in it than he ever had beforehand.

He was genuinely fighting for everyone to survive the game, not just himself. While Keiji would prefer everyone making it out safely, he has a tendency to guarantee his own survival first through any means necessary. His plan to corner Midori in the banquet could've cost him his life if it weren't for Q-taro's final stunt, yet he still reassured Sara to save Gin even tho it could've resulted in his execution from Meister potentially finding him guilty of violating the rules.

Him hugging Mai and trying to be more cheerful was cute as heck. I'm sorry but him showing more vulnerability around his allies and being less closed off in a way he hasn't been before is something I'm very head empty about. That he was hugging and interacting with Mai without making any unwanted advances or ladykiller jokes and generally just having a more friendly vibe was nice. It makes his creeping on Sara more unfortunate, but I'll take what I can for now. The bar is in hell.

And that's it, I think. Overall, I hope they do address some of his actions here in the final part or make them have an impact on his and Sara's relationship. Especially that Asunaro part. The person who wished for Sara to join the death game is still unknown and so is Keiji's consent form wish (same goes for the Dummies, Hinako and Megumi), so I'm curious if they're related or not. If he's going to go down an even darker path or redeem himself as much as he can we'll see when the final part drops. He has the potential to go both ways. This is going to be kinda awkward if the next part reveals him to have been a decent guy all along, so hopefully that doesn't happen. Please be morally bankrupt, man. This post didn't end up the way I wanted it to, nor bring up as many points as I would've liked, but I know I won't finish it if I went full perfectionist on it (I already spent months on this writer's block do be a bitch) and it's looking kinda long already. Hopefully it's still decent enough as is right now. I'd like to say that this is my apology for the last longpost I made, but I brought up one of the most controversial and hated ships and traits of Keiji's character and defended them, so maybe I shouldn't 🙃 Anywho, hope you enjoyed and cheerio.

[ropes3amthoughts]

😱😱😱

[aalyre]

hiii Test Drive 2 snippet because i can’t waittt

title reveal by the end of the week i think 🤭🤭 it’s nothing crazy but i like it

[gouraminnow]

No Rest for the Wicked

(Slasher AU | SFW | Yandere Sabo x Reader x Yandere Koala)

You're a goth student at a small university, and end up the victim of a Halloween prank gone wrong. Luckily, the Grad Student Instructor and his partner are awfully eager to help you out.

Haven't written for fun in 4+ years and what was meant to be my silly little Halloween debut oneshot became a 6871 word monster. This is the first part of at least three, things get sketchy as we go :') Gender neutral, but Reader is meant to be goth so there are mentions of corsets and makeup. Still kept the appearance vague bc I kept thinking of the My Immortal opener whenever I started describing outfits </3

TW for: Reader injury/head trauma, bullying uuhhhhhhhhhhh the length of this damn thing. Sorry if your name is Emily. Lmk if I missed anything

You don't like Halloween much, anymore.

Granted, you dressed like it was Halloween every day, but that had always been the case. Leather, carhartt, ripped skirts and jeans, and layer upon layer of black fabric was how you liked to roll. Sometimes a corset if you felt up to it. And eclectic jewelry, because of course. You went to college somewhere small, where that sort of thing was really only seen on TV or grimy band posters. Your style alienated you but you weren’t willing to compromise, so you spent a lot of time alone. This didn’t help the general impression your peers had of you.

So you really should have questioned it when Emily, a sorority girl, suddenly started to try and befriend you. She just sat herself next to you in the library one day and introduced herself. It was strange, but you were strange too, and you didn’t want to judge based on looks. So you accepted it- and soon you struck up an awkward, but nice friendship.

You liked it.

She got you to watch one of her archetypal chick flicks, and you got her to watch a horror movie. You picked a tame one, but it still freaked her out, so you said she never had to watch those with you again. You helped her study, went to the mall, even managed to win some radio lottery for tickets to a band you didn’t care about but she adored. You didn’t end up going, but you gave the three tickets to Emily, who went with two other friends.

And then October came. And you were invited to the yearly Halloween party, at some rich guy’s house out in the woods somewhere. You thought it would be great, your everyday attire was already suitable- but you went the extra mile. You hadn’t been invited to a party like this before. You were surprised you found yourself excited to go in the first place.

And at first, it was fun. Emily gave you a ride- her costume was some cheap, bloody nurse’s dress. “I feel kinda lame standing next to you,” she had said, looking at your black platform boots, torn stockings, corset, and tastefully unbuttoned top. You had eyeball earrings and various chains around your neck and waist, and of course you’d painted your nails black. You had laughed.

“Hey, I could lend you some pieces if you want. It would be nice to not be the only freak.” It was her turn to laugh. 

A little too hard, you thought, but pushed it to the back of your mind.

When you arrived at the house- a gorgeous, three-story place with a wraparound porch and a 2nd floor balcony with a staircase down into the side yard and a fortune in kitschy Halloween decorations like face webs, blood, and plenty of jack-o-lanterns of course- you could hear how loud everything was before Emily even cut the engine. She turned to you- bleached tresses catching what little light there was. “Are you nervous?” She asked, voice giddy with excitement.

“Y-yeah,” You confessed, chuckling nervously. “I don’t think I’ve been to a party since I was a kid,” you muse. You’re both quiet, for a moment. “Thank you, by the way. Not just for the party invite, but uh- the everything. It’s been nice.” Your voice is soft. Looking back, the earnestness you’d shown her makes you nauseous. She had smiled at you.

“Aw, don’t get sappy on me now. You’re my lucky charm! I couldn’t get into that concert without you!”

Your memories after that were fuzzy. You remembered the crisp night air as you crossed the lawn with Emily. You remembered the way the warmth and light of the house and enveloped you when you stepped inside. You remembered everybody staring as soon as you walked in, and the pleasant burn of whatever alcohol you had been offered- you remembered idle chatter but nothing specific-

And you remembered the costume contest Emily had urged you to participate in. You tried to say you weren’t exactly in costume, just ambiguously goth. Lots of other weak arguments too, but she insisted. You remembered that. How insistent she was. How she said this was your chance to leave your little shell and open up. That everyone there would love you. Their makeshift stage sat beneath an indoor balcony, and you’d thought it was just so party-goers on the second floor could see. A wooden table with a number of goofy props had been set off to the side. You had stood there, before a sea of drunk faces, and in the blink of an eye-

Cold

Wet

Sticky

A sharp, quick strike to the top of your head.

And then you woke up gasping, sobbing, a splitting pain in your skull and oh god, oh god oh god- Blood. So much of it. Covering you, covering the floor, and a strangled, warbling shriek clawed its way up and out of your throat- was it yours?! Was all of this- all of it yours?! 

You’re- you’re dying.

Overlapping voices, Emily- “B-but it’s a joke! It w-was just a joke, wait-!”

Everything’s blurry, but there’s so much violent, viscous red, you’re dying.

You sob, trying to lurch to your feet, but someone stops you- 

It’s loud. It’s so fucking loud and it hurts. Everything is blurry and bright and the screaming- you can’t process any of it- two figures in blue with tophats sit in front of you, saying something, but you don’t understand. They reach for you- both at once, and you scramble backwards into someone else- hands on your shoulders, trying to gently push you down. 

Everything from then on was a whirl of pain and color and sound- no Emily. No… anybody that you could recognize. You’re lifted by the blue figures- carried through a parting crowd, into the cold sting of the night air, and into the wrong car.

“No, no,” You tried to say- this wasn’t your ride, this isn’t how you got here, but your voice didn’t feel right in your skull and it scared you, so you stopped. You end up in the backseat with the blue men, another figure driving. Was that the one you backed into?

“-you hear me?” The blue men say. It sounds like you’re underwater.

“H-huh wha- what?” You offer pathetically. 

“Okay, good, that’s an actual word out of them,” A woman’s voice says from the front.

“Pretty slurred though,” The blue men respond, holding up their overlapping gloved hands and pointing four fingers skyward. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He asks you.

“Y-you’ve both guh-got four,” you say, leaning back with a whimper. Speaking hurts your head. You hear the men swear.

“Okay. A lot less good,” the woman upfront says. “Keep them awake, Sabo.”

“Yes, I know the drill,” the brothers(?) say, before turning back to you.

“You twins?” You whisper out, and get a light huff in response.

“You’re in shock,” they tell you gently. “It’s going to be alright, though. Can you tell me your name and birthday?”

You squint, stumbling through the answers to various questions. You’re slow- each word reverberating through your skull, rattling your teeth and adding to the pressure behind your eyes. But it does keep you awake until they get you to the hospital.

-

You woke up in a dimmed hospital room, all dull grays and white. Two people in well-made (but now bloodied) steampunk costumes sitting in chairs at your bedside. A blonde man with a blue vest and black coat, leaning on the shoulder of a smaller, ginger woman in pink, who’s reading a book. You can’t make out the title, your vision is still a bit blurry.

“Hello..?” You croak out, earning a jump from the woman before you. You squint. You think her eyes might be green.

“Oh good, you’re awake! How do you feel?” She asks softly.

“Um, bad,” you rasp. God, you feel awful. Worse than any hangover you’d ever had. “Who are you..? What… happened?” You ask, voice trailing into a scratchy whisper.

You hear her sigh softly. You wish you could tell what kind of face she was making. “My name’s Koala. My partner Sabo and I brought you here after an… accident.” She pauses, for something- you aren’t sure what. A dull pulse throbs in your head. “Do you… remember anything?”

You squint. “Um… Emily was t-taking me to a… party. I was at a party.” God, your head hurts. Just thinking about the loud music and overlapping voices makes you nauseous, and you groan. “Koala… Sabo… heard those, somewhere…” Maybe you’d met- maybe they just said their names while you were out of it. And it’s hard to tell if someone’s familiar when they just look like fuzzy shapes to you.

“It’s okay, take your time. You’ve… had a rough night. Oh- I should probably call the nurse, hold on.” You see her reach for something, and hear the soft click of a button. Then she turns to her side, shaking the figure leaning on her shoulder. “Sabo- Sabo, get up idiot, they’re awake,” she hisses, the warmth she addressed you with now replaced with irritation. The man, Sabo, sighs, sitting up with a groan. He stretches, earning a flinch from you when his back cracks loudly.

“Ah, that’s good to hear,” a gentle, sleepy voice intones, and even with the blur in your vision you can see his grin. “How are you feeling?”

“... Bad.” You repeat, earning a snort from Koala. “Weren’t there three people with me..?”

“Ah… no, you are… quite concussed, my friend.”

“Oh…” you pause, trying to focus on the fuzzy folk before you, but it’s useless. “I’ve… heard of you before, I think…”

A soft chuckle bubbles out of the man’s chest. “We’ve spoken a few times. I’m a grad student instructor, and Koala’s my partner. Does that ring a bell..?” The concerned lilt in his voice is soothing.

“I… think so…”

“Well, no need to worry about it,” Koala pipes up, crossing her arms. “You’ve got plenty of time to get your bearings.”

Shortly after that, a nurse arrived, and you went through a standard physical exam. Your reflexes were a bit slow and your vision wasn’t great, but you were far more coherent. You were exhausted though, arms trembling after just drinking a little bit of water.

The two had to gently break the news that you had been a setup, deliberately lured to that party so you could be pranked Carrie style with a bucket of fake blood. Except the bucket itself was rather heavy, striking you on the head and making you fall just right, resulting in you bashing your head once more against that stupid prop table. The woman, Koala, told you that you’d been unconscious for around ten seconds, give or take. They had rushed to your side, the room silent, until you woke up and screamed.

It was bad. Sabo and Koala both worked to get your jewelry off you, since you’d likely need an x-ray- but the biggest issue was that the fake blood dumped on you made it hard to tell where the real injury was, and how much real blood you were losing. The workers had to clean you up and your entire outfit was ruined. Your family was called, but they lived out of state and couldn’t make it to you. The hospital kept you for a few more hours, running tests and making sure there were no further complications- your benevolent saviors remaining with you the whole time. That part gave you pause. You didn’t think strangers were even allowed to do that, but you didn’t mention it. You felt wrong questioning these people.

The nurse was a kind but stern woman, making sure to speak very clearly for you. “Alright, sweetheart, here’s how this is gonna work. You clearly can’t drive, but luckily your friends here can. Once you’re home, you need to be supervised for at least three days. We’re giving you the good stuff, for pain- take one every 4-6 hours, as needed.”

“O-oh, that’s okay,” you stammer. Supervision? You live alone in a single-person dorm room. “I c-can… manage on my own, none of that is hard,” you try to assure her, despite how wrong it still felt just to talk. Your mouth doesn’t feel like it was yours, the delay between thought, intention, and execution of speech unsettling. The nurse clearly isn’t impressed, either.

“No. This is a head wound. If you have nobody to look after you, we will not discharge you.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s where we come in. We’re already driving you home, aren’t we?” Sabo gently pipes up.

And that’s how you find yourself pushed out to the car in a wheelchair. A little excessive, you think, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the idea of just how much these strangers- well, acquaintances, you suppose- are doing for you. When Sabo opened the door for you, you winced, seeing the dark, sticky mess you had left in his backseat. “I’m sorry about b-bleeding all over your car,” you mumble, but he waves you off. 

“Please, don’t worry yourself over something like that,” he chides. “Most of that isn't even real, anyway. I can get it cleaned, it’s alright. Let’s get you home, okay?” He says, ushering you into the clean side of the backseat. 

-

The three of you stand in front of the door to your tiny dorm room, you leaning heavily on Sabo while you struggle with your keys. He has an arm around your waist to steady you, but you still feel like you’re gonna tip over. At least it’s too early for any other students to see you- most of them are still probably sleeping off whatever parties they went through. The splitting ache in your skull made you wish the same. After a good twenty seconds of struggling with the rusted lock of your front door, Koala sighs, taking the keys from you and doing it herself in one smooth motion. You can’t help but deflate a little bit. You’re ushered inside the little space, a twin sized bed across from a couch and a single window between them. You’ve got a crappy old wardrobe that houses the clothes you wear most often, while the rest is kept in a bin that normally lay beneath your bed- but with a shaky sigh, you take in the sight of it pulled out into the open from when you had been excitedly planning your outfit last night. Dark, cobwebby drapings of tattered cloth and worn leather, both faux and authentic, haphazardly scattered about.

You set down the plastic bag your soaked clothes had been placed in, sinking to your knees with the intention of packing things up, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Just leave it for now,” says Sabo, voice soft as ever. “We can get that for you later. Why don't you just lie down, hmm?” Warm gloved hands guide you to your bed, and you sigh as you sink into the comforter.

Your two guests look around your room, and you suddenly flush. Your walls are littered with flyers, artwork, band and movie posters, the latter of which are mostly pulpy horror flicks. You haven't had anyone in here in ages except-

Emily.

Your stomach lurches. You'd somehow managed not to think about her.

Koala turns to you, about to say something, but stops when she sees the tears welling up in your eyes. You don’t want to break down in front of these people. You curl in on yourself, wiping your tears frantically, willing yourself not to start bawling. Sabo and Koala are muttering something to each other, but you can’t make it out. “Sorry…” You mutter, voice thick and wobbly. “You two have, um- thank you. I’m sorry about all this. Probably not how you wanted to spend your Halloween.”

“Oh none of that now,” chides Sabo, who has made himself at home on your couch. “It certainly wasn’t part of our plan- Ow!” He winces when Koala elbows him in the ribs. “As I was saying, some things are a bit more important than crashing a party. And I’m sure you didn’t plan on having your head cracked open, so don’t talk like it’s your fault.” 

“Th… thank you. Really. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.” They’re so… nice to you. It feels different from Emily, in a way you can’t quite articulate. Something about them just makes you feel relaxed and at ease… part of that could also be the exhaustion seeping into your bones, like water being soaked up by a thick blanket of cotton. “But what happens now..? Are you really gonna… babysit me for three days? Don’t you two have things to do? Besides, this place is tiny.”

You feel a dip in the mattress as Koala comes to sit by you, and it makes your head spin for a second. “We definitely have a few calls to make,” she sighs. “But your couch is perfectly fine- and Sabo can take the floor, because he’s such a gentleman, isn’t he?” The sly lilt has you giggling, and Sabo just huffs, taking the playful jab in stride.

“Naturally,” he tells her, and you think he might have winked.

You yawn, eyelids fluttering. “That’s… still not great. Seriously, th-this place… kind of sucks. I don’t even have a kitchen in here…”

That seems to give them pause. Koala hums. “Well… Sabo’s place has a couple guest rooms, but sometimes his brothers stay there too…”

“Wait, n-no, I c-can’t just um, intrude like that-!”

Your guests share a look. You wish you could tell what kind. “Well, we’re not leaving you here alone. It’s just not an option.” Koala asserts. You open your mouth to protest, but Sabo beats you to it.

“Look, I know we aren’t close, and this is all… very sudden. You don’t know us very well, it’s weird to stay at a stranger’s house. But…” He rubs the back of his neck. “There’s a good chance you could hurt yourself. And I wouldn’t be a very good GSI if you missed Professor Silver’s lecture next week because I left you alone.” You snort, then wince at the bolt of pain that shoots through your muddled head. “A lot has happened to you in the past twelve hours. This isn’t ideal for anyone, believe me- but we’re worried about you.”

You should have had more questions, honestly- but oversights abound when one has a traumatic brain injury. Sabo steps out to make a call, and Koala helps you pack an overnight bag. A couple changes of casual, comfortable clothes- mostly black, of course. And you finally change out of the off-white spares provided by the hospital, from loose thin overshirt and pants to some pajamas with a sweater thrown over it. Nothing particularly interesting but unfortunately, you had more pressing concerns. Sabo comes back in shortly after, nodding to his partner.

This time, instead of helping you hobble your way back down to the parking lot, Sabo just picks you up. You sputter, but he just hushes you, and Koala locks the door behind you all with your black coffin-shaped backpack slung over her shoulder.

That thing rules, you think to yourself, allowing your body to relax against Sabo. Your cheek squishes against his chest, and you catch a faint scent- the sweet, chemical tang of the fake slop that was dumped on you. Despite your discomfort, you quickly find it hard to keep yourself awake. You’re in the hallway- early morning sunlight casting a golden glow through the old dorm building. Your eyes flutter shut- then back open- you’re in the parking lot, and Koala is shuffling around in the backseat. When she moves away, you see that an old, ratty, dark brown blanket has been draped over the recently stained polyester. You hum as Sabo buckles you in, then gently lays you down, adjusting the seatbelt so it doesn’t bite into you uncomfortably.

“Poor thing,” you hear Koala coo. “So, you’re sure it was him? And what did everyone say about rescheduling..?” She continues as you drift off.

-

You wake up with a groan, in an unfamiliar room. The walls are a pleasant tawny color, with one cream accent wall. You’ve been tucked in underneath a comforter topped with a quilt- the scattered geometric pattern comprised of black, white, and shades of gray. It brings a smile to your face, that they went through the trouble of finding you a quilt that matched your aesthetic. You sit up slowly, groaning at the throbbing ache in your head. You blink, smacking your lips, trying to get rid of the dry, scratchy feeling in your throat. Turning to the right, there’s a bedside table- a glass of water and one of your pills left out for you, along with a small note. They’ve also been kind enough to plug your phone in for you. Extending a trembling hand, you pick up the little scrap of paper and squint at the clean, rounded handwriting.

Sabo will be back later, he’s running some errands. If you wake up before I come check on you, please take the pill I left out. I’m in the living room, which is down the hall to your right if you need anything. - Koala

You sniff, placing the note down and doing as instructed. You wince at the feeling of the sizable white pill catching on the inside of your throat on the way down, even with the water. Rubbing your throat you reach for your phone without a thought, and-

The first thing you do is wince when the light of the screen meets your eyes. When the blurriness subsides a little, you blink away the not-quite-tears of eyestrain to find 24 missed calls, and 99+ messages, the unlock screen preview shows you. You grimace, turning your attention to the time. A little over half past one, November 1st. You take a deep breath. You don’t want to think about all this. At least not alone.

You stumble to your feet to go find Koala like the note said, but you don’t really need to. She hears your door open, and comes to fetch you herself and guide you to the leather sofa. You sit sideways, with your feet up on the cushions. You’re trying to take in your surroundings when a folded knit blanket is plopped onto your lap, and she sits down with you with her knees up to her chest. You take a moment to relax, kneading the soft, blue fibers in your tired hands. “... Hi,” you rasp, then clear your throat. “Uh… this is a nice place. Thanks for letting me stay…”

“Mmm. Don’t mention it. Wasn’t really up to you, anyway.” The woman tilts her head slightly, regarding you. “... Are you feeling any better? I’m guessing you read the note?”

“Yeah, I did. And I’m mostly just… tired and sore, now. I was worried I’d be nauseous, but I’m not, so… that’s nice.”

“That is good,” she agrees, “We were a little worried you’d have trouble eating.”

“Mmmhmm.” You’re both quiet for a moment. Koala has changed into something more casual as well- a sky blue sweater that looks too big on her and loose reddish brown pants. You unfold the blanket she gave you, sighing. “Um… so, should I inform the school somehow-”

“Sabo is speaking to the faculty on your behalf, so don’t worry about that.” She has a… blunt way of speaking that sometimes takes you off guard, but you’re getting used to it quickly. Overall she’s nice. “That girl-” she spits, and you can make out a grimace- “Emily, she blew up Sabo’s school email when you didn’t answer her.”

“Oh.” You breathe. “What… did she say..?”

You hear Koala inhale, hear her start to say something, but she looks at you and pauses for a moment. Then she sighs and shakes her head, shoulders slumping. “It’s not important. Don’t worry about her.” Your brows furrow a little bit. You think that if it’s about you, you should get to know, but whatever.

“... Anything she’s got to say is probably already on my phone, anyway,” you groan, pressing your palms against your eyes. 

“I thought as much,” she mumbles bitterly. “Well, listen- I’m sure your family should hear from you directly at some point today. Do you feel up to that?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Fair enough. The hospital was sure to mention that you’re stable when they contacted your parents, so at least they aren’t completely in the dark.” There’s another silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Or maybe your head is still too muddled to feel awkward. You find yourself wishing you’d had a chance to meet under better circumstances, though, rather than ending up as a burden to these two. “Well…” she starts, “do you like tea? I know Sabo usually keeps a couple different kinds in the house.”

You nod, a soft smile quirking the corners of your mouth upwards. “Thank you, that sounds lovely,” you say, absentmindedly reaching up to trace the stitches in your head, only for Koala to lurch forward to slap your hand away.

“Don’t touch it, idiot! It’ll get worse!” She scolds you, but it doesn’t feel mean-spirited. You gingerly lower your hand and sit on it, earning a snort from her. “If that’s what it takes,” she quips, a smile in her voice. She stands, stretches, and settles with her hands on her hips. “Can I trust you not to start prying your stitches out if I leave to go put some water on?”

“Probably not.” That gets another little huff from her.

“Might have to tie your hands, then,” she muses. “Alright, listen. I’m going to go make tea. Then I’m gonna help you clean up a bit more- get the excess gunk off your face. We’ll see how you’re feeling after that. If you aren’t too out of it, I’ll help you make that phone call.”

You end up making that call after the tea is finished, opting not to keep anyone waiting. Koala has it on speaker phone, and is able to elaborate where you can’t. You don’t tell your family about… the prank, yet. You can feel Koala’s gaze on you, but she follows your lead, being vague on the details and focusing on your condition. You tell your mother there was an accident at a party, and you’re with a friend right now. 

“Oh, that Emily girl, right?” Your mom asks.

You’re glad you can’t audibly wince, but you can’t really fault her for asking. “No, i-it’s someone else.”

“You’ve made other friends? Oh that’s wonderful, I’m so glad you’re finally coming out of your shell!” You lock up, eye twitching. This is a comment you do fault her for. Really? She’s on about this now? The rest of the conversation is a blur- you sit, curled up on the couch and sipping your tea while Koala takes over for you. She talks a little about herself and Sabo, and a little about you, too- mentioning some student art exhibit you’d submitted a piece to at the beginning of your time on campus, back when you were still trying to be sociable. You find heat rising to your cheeks. She was there? She remembered it? You feel guilty for not recognizing her sooner. Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, Sabo gets home, setting down some brown paper grocery bags and walking over to quietly press a kiss to Koala’s temple. The conversation ends shortly after Sabo introduces himself, winning them over just as easily as Koala had. They exchange contact info with your parents, assuring them that they would be updated. It leaves you feeling a bit… infantilized, truthfully, but everyone involved means well.

When all that is said and done, Sabo addresses you personally. “Glad to see you awake and alert. I’ve got everything for a light soup. Does that sound good?”

You nod. “Yes, thank you. L-let me know if I can help p-pay for anythi-” you’re interrupted by light, airy laughter.

“Nonsense, I’m used to paying for whatever crazy shenanigans my brothers get into, food for a couple days is nothing. And I’m willing to bet their appetites are way bigger than yours, anyway.”

Koala saunters over, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You talk like you aren’t just as bad as those two,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest and turning her head to you. “Don’t let the clean student-faculty sweetheart image fool you, he gets into all sorts of shit,” she huffs, earning a laugh from her partner. You’re sure the smile on your face is rather dopey, but these two are cute together.

“Seeing as he’s got a concussed stranger sleeping over, yeah I’d say that tracks,” you tell her, earning a pout from the man.

“Aw, we’re not strangers anymore, are we?” Koala asks with a faux tearfulness.

“I… guess not…” 

“Good,” she says, detangling herself from Sabo and pressing a kiss to his jaw before turning back to you. “Now lay back- I’m gonna clean the rest of that shit off your face now.”

“H-huh?” You sputter. She’d already mentioned doing this, but the firmness of her statement takes you off-guard. Sabo just laughs. 

“Koala is very strong-willed. You won’t be winning any arguments with her, just give in now,” he says sympathetically.

There’s a sharp exhale from the woman. “I wouldn’t have to be strong-willed if you'd just listen to me the first time,” she quips, already applying drops of liquid makeup remover to a cotton ball. When had she even gotten those out?

You sit as still as possible for Koala, leaning back against the pillows piled behind you as your new friend slides onto the couch. She slots herself between your knees and looms over you, her brows furrowed as she begins to carefully, gently dab away the remnants of faux, syrupy blood still clinging to your hairline, behind your ears, and other creases in your face. Most of your makeup and the blood had been washed off in the hospital, but the priority was of course your injury. The details were left for later. She knows what she’s doing, featherlight touches soothing your frazzled mind. It just feels right- your eyes flutter shut as she reaches for your face, cool dampness of the cotton balls and makeup wipes running over your eyelids, down the sides of your nose… heart fluttering at the chuckle Koala lets out when the sharp scent of the cleaning solution makes your face scrunch up. You smile softly when you open your eyes again, earning a pause from her. She tilts her head quizzically, short ginger hair framing her round eyes…

Your vision is a little clearer now. You can see a lot better than you could when you were still in the hospital, barely coherent with a head full of static. “I was right,” you giggle, dazed voice weighed by fatigue, but the fear, anxiety, sadness- the hurt-  is all finally gone. “Your eyes are green. You’re really pretty, Koala.” She jolts, face going red, turning to glare at Sabo when he laughs.

“You’re still out of it,” she hushes, but you don’t miss the shaky smile poorly hidden behind her hand.

-

It’s a pleasant night. Sabo starts on the food shortly after Koala finishes, and you nap on the couch as the pleasant smell of chicken and rice soup fills the house. It’s an open kitchen, so most of what Sabo does is visible the few times you drift back into consciousness. The final time you wake up, it’s to Sabo gently shaking your shoulder with a bowl of soup ready for you, along with another one of your pills. The three of you eat together in the living room, small talk petering off as it becomes clear just how tired you are. But it’s pleasant- warmth filling you as you slowly eat, eyelids growing heavier and heavier, until you find everything but the flavor of light soup and dull pulse in your skull fading away.

You’d be perfectly content to just pass out here on the couch, but Koala is insistent you get to bed properly. You’re in the bathroom, struggling to brush your teeth- the harsh scratching sound of a toothbrush resonating through your entire skull with a dizzying buzz. You aren’t looking forward to doing this again… maybe you could get away with just using mouthwash for a couple days..? Ugh, probably not… You’re leaning in close to the mirror, examining the sutures on your head. When you had struck the table, it had pulled your skin back, tearing the wound open wider. Part of it pokes down through your hairline, about two inches visibly protruding past your temple, earning a frown from you. You gingerly run your fingers over the rough stitching-

“Please don’t do that.” Despite the softness of Sabo’s voice, his sudden appearance makes you jump. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You sound a little wobbly, but that’s mostly because you’re tired. 

He pushes off from where he’s resting against the doorframe, stepping into the room to assess his own reflection beside you. “It will likely scar,” he says after a moment. You look at Sabo- actual Sabo, instead of his reflection- and he turns to look at you as well. The dramatic sunburst of scarring around his eye makes yours look like nothing in comparison- you feel a little self-conscious about silently fussing over yours with him right there. “But it could be worse. Easier to cover with certain hairstyles, or makeup, should you so choose.” You manage to suppress your wince. You don’t actually know how Sabo feels about his scars- you think they’re cool, but he might not. But you also don’t want to assume he’s hinting at any of his own insecurities and say something weird.

“More worried about lingering brain damage, honestly,” you eventually settle on, turning back to the mirror. “Might look kinda cool, once it heals up a bit… but it came from something really stupid.”

“You could just make something up, like I do,” he offers, earning a shaky smile from you.

“Thanks, Sabo, but I’m pretty sure everyone’s gossiping about it. By the time I get back on campus, everyone will already know…”

“Well…” he starts, your gaze following his hand as it moves up to rub your shoulder. “Good thing we won’t be here forever, hmm..?” He purrs quietly. You look to him, and any retort you had dies on your tongue. There’s an intense look in his wide eyes, paired with a small polite smile that doesn't quite match up.

“H-Huh?” You’re quiet, confused.

He takes in your response, blinking and pulling his hand away from you to rub the back of his neck. “I just mean we won’t be students here, forever… didn’t mean to sound alarming. Plenty of people out in the world you could tell a fun little lie to,” he clarifies, and you relax again. “Though you are right, it’s an oversight on my part not to consider how much people talk.”

The tension deflates immediately, and you feel a little bad. Your mind is just playing tricks on you- it’s been a rough 24 hours, after all. “Oh, haha, i-it’s fine… sorry for being jumpy. B-besides, I’m used to dumb gossip already, I-I should probably just…” You falter. His eyes aren’t as intense, but you feel like his focus is. He’s just trying to be a good listener, you tell yourself. You’re the one making things weird. You clear your throat, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest. “Sorry. I don’t know w-why I’m so worried, it’s all the same shit,” you try to joke. Your attempt at a chuckle is thin and reedy. The face of the man before you softens- and you realize you don’t like it. You don’t like the disdain, the laughter, the frankly juvenile way your peers treat you, but you don’t like this, either. The pitying look, like you’re a stray puppy left out in the rain. With a black, spiked collar, maybe. What’s wrong with you? Why are you so upset? Seconds after you notice the first small, watery hints of tears welling up in your eyes, you just break down.

Sabo moves swiftly, seemingly on autopilot, wrapping you up in a hug, warm hand pressing your head against his chest. It’s nice. It feels so, so nice- he’s steady and reliable, firm chest and arms keeping you snug and secure against him and you can’t help but think have I ever been held like this before? You’re embarrassed- you don’t want to behave like this, it feels so childish. But your body shudders with a cracked sob despite yourself, hands tightly balling themselves up in his shirt as he slowly sinks the both of you to the floor. “Sorry, m’sorry,” you whine into his chest. Why? Why now? The look he gave you didn’t rattle you that hard, did it? God, the pressure behind your eyes, that constricting tightness in your throat- it all makes the ache in your head bloom all the worse. He rubs your back, settling you in his lap. “I don’t know why- I d-don’t get it,” you gasp, clinging to him. The firm, hurried sound of approaching footsteps meet your ears, stopping at the doorway.

“It’s okay. Shhh, it’s alright, you don’t have to,” coos Sabo, and you feel him turning to look at Koala, no doubt coming to check on the racket you were making. “I’m sure it’s a little bit of everything. It was bound to happen at some point. You’ve been through a lot, just let it out, alright? It’s okay.” Koala approaches, shuffling past Sabo in the narrow space so she can sit adjacent to two of you.

“We expected something like this, so don’t worry. I’m glad you aren’t bottling things up,” she says, leaning forward to wrap her arms around you both. They’re both so warm. Leaning against Sabo’s chest, Koala’s head comes to rest on your shoulder as Sabo readjusts, momentarily removing an arm to embrace his partner in return. A little bit awkward, all three of you piled onto the floor like that, but it still just feels so nice. Pleasant. You don’t know why these two have your back, but you have absolutely no doubts that they do. “Let's get you to the bedroom, alright? Much more comfortable there than a bathroom floor.” That comment is probably as much for Sabo as it is for you. You nod against his chest, and he wastes no time in sliding an arm under your knees and securing your back with the other. You sniffle and whine pathetically as he walks you back to the guest room, setting you on the bed, sitting up. You blink, hiccuping as your host pulls the covers over you. Koala approaches with a glass of water- when did she get that? And two pills. “The second is just some melatonin,” she soothes, handing the tiny puck of medicine alongside your prescribed painkiller. “You’ve been falling asleep well enough, but we thought… Well, just in case.” When had they talked about that? When you were napping? You didn’t care very much at the moment.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out, reaching your shaking hands out for the water and the medicine. You would very much like to leave the waking world- everything is suddenly so overwhelming for no reason at all. “I’m so s-sorry for the trouble.” You pop the pills into your mouth, and when you go to drink, Koala’s hands clasp themselves over yours, assisting you in raising the glass to your mouth. The cool liquid soothes your throat, and your cries taper off into sniffles.

You take a shaky breath. Both of them are looking at you, but you don’t want to meet their eyes. “It’s okay. You’re tired and hurt, it’s to be expected.” Sabo comforts you, yet again. Your stomach twists. They’re adamant that everything is okay, that you aren’t imposing, but how couldn’t you be? If everything Emily supposedly felt for you was fake, who knows what these people could be up to? You set the glass down, Koala’s hands sliding away as you brace it between your thighs. You briefly notice a roughness to her palms- they’re callused.

… You’re tired.

“Thank you,” you rasp, looking back up to your hosts. They both nod.

“Is there anything you need?” Koala asks, voice soft. None of the edge it normally carries.

“I think… I-I just want to sleep.”

“Of course,” she says, but doesn’t move. She… hovers for a moment, looking you over before standing and turning to Sabo. You can’t see her face, but there’s something unreadable in the smile Sabo gives her.

You thank them again. They bid you goodnight, and you return it.

Your consciousness fades almost as quickly as their footsteps.

[mossy-paws]

hello! I do parody accounts of phighting characters on twt, I was wondering if you would allow me to make a parody account of one of your biografts? (Leaning towards mossgraft or jestergraft.) I was also here to half ask if you have any more content of either of them../nf/lh

STARES SO HARD,,, I think I would be cool with that!! I definitely recommend dm-ing me on here or discord though so we can both talk about it a bit more so we can lay some stuffs down :3! Especially if you’re thinking about doing one for Mossgraft since I’m really attached to her specifically + they have PROBABLY the most expansive lore!

Also,, ohhhhhh boy do I got some food for you /silly like I said Mossgraft is my BABY (they were also my first EVER PHIGHTING oc and were made like 2 days after I got into the game LMFAO) so out of all of my bio’s them, Clementine, and Wall-e are by far my favorites

buuuut for Mossgraft and wall-e specifically with lore, there is a LOT, so I’ll start with a bit of design and lore history and then get into the really fun stuff :3

soooo where to begin! So to start, like I said Mossgraft was my first ever phighting oc made basically when I first got into the fandom, originally, Mossgraft was a custom built supposed to be betagraft prototype that failed pretty harshly and became sentient and then booked it out to playground LMAO, they were also supposed to be married to catshot because when i first started playing the game I wouldn’t stop calling him “wife” (catshot as a skin was also literally the ENTIRE reason why I first started playing,, that and broker). This is not Mossgrafts lore anymore (at least not fully) and they safe to say aren’t married to anyone now.

Mossgrafts old design was also WAAAAY different to say the least, when making it I was having such an actual pain trying to get the colors right + I didn’t really have much down for their lore, so you can probably see the struggle I was having there LMFAO

Now! Time for the fun parts when it came to design, obviously you can tell after I created that absolutely horrific version of them I still was VERY unhappy about their colors and stuff, so I was playing around with them on this one specific piece (if anyone remembers this you are the GOAT) which was I BELIEVE(?) made when BH was first introduced. At this point I don’t really remember much extra lore and stuff for them (not even the venom bits were thought up yet) but yeah!

At this point though, I really wanted to make an actual design for Mossgraft, and so I did! This was when I first came up with the idea of murder dronifying them /j and when I first came up with Wall-e! At this point Wall-e’s lore was basically non-existent other then what’s on the ref LMAO and mossgraft’s was still a huge WIP

Now this is just a really small but pretty influential thing I made for Wall-e, this was when I was first coming up with his lore! Basically, Wall-e is one of three original biograft proto-types created by subspace. All of them were made as a sort of practice to see if they could actually mass produce Biografts- with Wall-e being the zetagraft proto, Violet being the Betagraft proto, and cyan being scrapped completely

Why was Proto-type cyan specifically cancelled? Well, all of the protos were made for one reason; testing. They were made to be used as testers and NOTHING else, just as a sort of social experiment in a way where Subspace can monitor their behaviors and such and then later on make changes to the designs and coding and such. This didn’t go well though, and Cyan ended up going rogue and dismantling Violet (who was also beginning to go grow sentient, it was just much less violent about it and was uncontrollable because of fear) and then breaking out of the labs and going on a rampage and killing a ton of Blackrock civilians before it was eventually recaptured and killed. Wall-e, afterwards, was SUPPOSED to be dismantled, but managed to somehow escape (NOTE: this was changed later down the line and now in wall-e lore Cyan had attempted to dismantle it too but failed before it was detained). Mossgraft, shortly before cyans failure, was created as another way to test biografts made for war, created with Violets alternative blueprints and made 3000 times more deadly… this though, also failed. After cyans failure (NOTE: in new lore, Mossgraft was the one who eventually killed Cyan after a few months of it being rampant, which is why wall-e was eventually saved by it) Mossgraft managed to break free from Blackrock, saving wall-e from being dismantled in the process completely by accident, and… then moved to playground to be spiteful…… It didn’t ask for wall-e to come follow it, wall-e just ended up tagging along after his saving and just,, hasn’t left. Mossgraft doesn’t really mind this though, since wall-e hasn’t done anything to harm Mossgraft. (Maybe Mossgraft cares a LITTLE bit about it, just maybe, they would never say it though).

in playground, Mossgraft was later found and taken in (?) by a small gang of demons who use it as basically a fucking threat to anyone trying to annoy them LMAO, these guys don’t have designs yet, but they’re named Rainbowcape (just a little gal,, she’s as sweet as can be in most occasions although she can be a bit mean even if she doesn’t mean it, she has a good heart though), Overseer spider (a manipulative little rat of a man /j who’s a Thieves den/Blackrock demon who later moved to playground because he hated both of his parent factions. Does he like playground? No, no not really, but in his opinions it’s better than either of the latter.), and a few other demons who I really haven’t put much thought into. Mossgraft honestly does NOT care much about the gang, they just also tolerate their presence because 1) they haven’t done anything violent to Mossgraft yet 2) treat Mossgraft really well since Mossgraft is basically their shield and means of protection and 3) Mossgraft kind of thinks they’re funny, it’s like watching a sitcom with those demons.

For dreamgraft, its lore ties pretty heavily in with Mossgrafts, although its lore is much less “pronounced” then M’s is. For Dreamgraft, it was created specifically to target and kill Mossgraft, other rogue bio’s, and demons (although mainly to track down and kill Mossgraft). I actually came up with dreamgraft’s concept well. From their namesake, although they looked way different in my dream then on paper LMAO

But! Back on track, Dreamgraft was created using another offshoot of regular betagraft (and a tiny bit of violets) blueprints AFTER Mossgraft had left. Why now, would a biograft be made specifically to hunt down another one? Well… this is because of Mossgraft basically being a walking war crime, which was also why it was never remade, Mossgraft is INCREDIBLY dangerous and the other factions did not appreciate it getting loose so they had to get on blackrocks ass about fixing their mistakes and killing it……. This is easier said then done though, because Mossgraft knows DAMN WELL that it does not wanna get dismantled so will gladly do anything to avoid getting caught by anything it so even suspects to be of Blackrock origin. So, they had to come up with a counter too it- and so Dreamgraft was made! Its code, unlike Mossgrafts, was absolutely PERFECTED and because of this Dreamgraft isn’t sentient, its biggest goal is to track down Mossgraft and kill it. Mossgraft is smart enough to know how to avoid it in most circumstances, though it has had some close calls in the past since dreamgraft’s toxic vapor can be a real pain to get away from.

Jestergraft was created as something akin to a “show biograft” and is subspaces personal pet biograft. How did he get away with making this when it does almost nothing else other then looking pretty, you may ask? No clue! But hey at least it can tell you the time and juggle!! Anyways subspace basically just wanted a biograft he could baby and it SHOWS with Jestergraft… especially because it’s sentient and boy oh boy is this little fucker smart. It’s code corrupted almost the second it was made but it’s learned how to masterfully hide it since if it shows any sort of sentience around its creator it’ll get dismantled. It also copy’s subspace’s manner of speech (making it even more insufferable to be around).

It also doesn't really *like* other biografts, but it knows how to manipulate them into doing its bidding’s when subspace isn’t looking. Dreamgraft on the other hand it HATES because it can’t. It thinks Dreamgraft 1) is a threat to its status and 2) sentient…. It’s not, though, why does Jestergraft think it is? Absolutely no clue at all. I like to think of it as some mad little brother trying to pin all bad these things on the really tired, annoyed, and uncaring older sibling who’s done absolutely nothing.

so, that’s basically it for a lot of their lore! I’m not gonna be doing mangografts/clementines/or sootgrafts for the time being since sootgraft and Mangograft have their own lores and clementines would take HOURS to write out fully (I actually DO have a plan for drawing out a poem I wrote out about biografts that will reveal a lot of his lore in the distance future, but for now I just don’t really have the time to dedicate to it :sadface:). For Mossgraft and wall-e though, I do actually have some FUNNNN ideas for them planned in the future! Specifically since I’ve been getting into transformers I’ve been itching to make some fun little “what if” alternative designs for them specifically, as well as some other lore pieces and such of them! For prototype cyan, I actually wrote a small little fic of them a long time ago, I doubt I’ll ever post it but if I do I’ll be sure to attach it to here! It’s very unfinished and old though so it’s not the most interesting read LOL

now,, for some fun stuff! Doodles and extra little pieces :3

First one is because a friend said they wanted to kiss Mossgraft (hi steam), second was actually a tumblr request! It was a fun little piece where someone asked me how the bio’s would react to a phone (fun fact, none of them know what one is (besides jester that is)). The third and fourth pieces were me trying to redesign Mossgraft and wall-e after their second ref was made (I later gave up because of motivation loss LMAO). Sixth was self indulgent, I just wanted to draw them as cats, seventh is an old old doodle of Cyan, this was me just testing out a brush. And the last is just a fun little wall-e thing

anyways! I hope you liked the lore dump, if you wanna talk more about making a parody account please do dm me for sure :3! I do got some important stuff to lay down (duh) but yeah!

[zeivira]

no rest for the wicked...

pls more

this shit is hilarious

like what are the others thoughts on this "illness" like garfiel, we've seen a bit of otto but i want more of him cuz he's best boi.

i imagine him going on full mama/big bro mood lmao

also that ficrec abt the crack fic by scissors? LMAO thx my parents knew im awake at 3am

point is

i like you now

so im gonna stalk- ahem- stick to you like a leach 🥺🌹

feed me more

The Cap’n's rule about everyone being strictly forbidden from watching him sleep—something about Garfiel being exactly like Rem but without pretty girl privilege—never actually stops the members of the camp from keeping an eye on him while the Cap’n's rests. 

The camp is nothing if not resourceful, and it’s not like they need to be inside the room when he’s sleeping to make sure he stays safe. Waiting a few feet away from the only entrance is just as effective. 

That's why when Garfiel smells a person approaching the Cap’n's room, during a time he knows he is asleep—they spent the last few days traveling to Pristella, like Hoshin traveled the desert to Banan after all—he rushes into the hallway and grabs the visitor's wrist right before it gets to knock at the Cap’n's door. 

"—the hell do ya think yer doin’?" Only after he finishes talking, under the dim hallway light of the mansion-like inn, he takes notice of the visitor's red, flame-like hair. A sharp horror, the one he had felt hours flooded through his entire body, as he realized whose wrist he grabbed. 

For a second, all is still. 

"Hello again, Sir Garfiel," the Sword Saint greets him, smiling as if they were pals and he hadn't evaded Garfiel’s senses and stopped his punch with a casual block a couple hours before. As if he weren’t the main obstacle between Garfiel and the title of Strongest. "I apologize if my presence alerted you, but all I wish to do is talk to Subaru." 

"W-well isn’ that convenient.  Anythin’ ya might need ta tell the Cap’n, ya can tell my amazin’ self instead." Big fat lie. There is a reason why the Cap’n is the Cap’n despite being borderline comatose and apparently not that much older than him. But Garfiel can’t trust anyone stronger than him, and as much as he hates himself for it…

The difference between him and Reinhard van Astrea is like a newborn Earth dragon and the Divine Dragon themself. 

His mere presence makes Garfiel's rawest instincts scream—tell him to either fight-or-flight. Garfiel doesn't want to be anywhere close to Reinhard, but much less he wants Reinhard anywhere close to the Cap’n when he sleeps. At least not until Garfiel proves himself a stronger shield than Reinhard. 

Even if the Cap’n is not defenseless—at least, not usually— he is useless while he isn't awake. And that means Galfield has to fight for both of them.

"I see," Reinhard's lips tilt downwards. "I do not mean disrespect, but what I would like to discuss would be related to something personal, unrelated to our respective camps..." 

Right. Garfield's eyebrow twitches. Right. The Cap’n said they were friends. 

"...the Cap’n's asleep," his voice sounds hoarse even to his ears. Maybe if he makes his tone drier than the Augura Sand Dunes, he can get Reinhard to give up and leave?

Reinhard's eyes widen. "Is that so. From what I gathered he mostly slept during the night." 

Garfield scowls. Of course the Sword Saint knew that much. "The Cap’n does, but he couldn' sleep during the trip, as we moved without pause, just like the Emperor of the Briar who never knew rest," Garfield crosses his arms. "So he is sleeping now and won't wake up in a while." 

"I see..." Reinhard says, and an uncomfortable silence falls between them. His gaze felt so heavy that if Garfiel moved carelessly, he wouldn’t know what his fate would b— "I wanted to ask about my father, actually—” Reinhard spoke up, breaking the silence. “I heard there were some issues close to Lady Priscilla's domain that involved Subaru and him." 

It takes Garfield a second to realize what he is talking about. His joy over learning the one and only Sword Saint's father was joining Emilia's camp to help Subaru stop the Argyle healer evaporated the moment his eyes actually lied on the man. After a couple days he just became Old Man, a skilled drunkard with a sob story, rather than a member of the family his mother used to read him stories about. 

"Issues,” Garfield snorts at Reinhard’s choice of word. “Tha's one way of sayin’ it." He makes a face. "Yeah, I was there too. The Old Man made us go lookin’ for a stupid chalice with the power to cure all sickness, but in the end it's only power w’s turning water into booze. Big ass let down." 

Reinhard’s shoulders sag. "So that’s what happened…” Reinhard’s eyes finally looked past Garfiel and looked at the still closed door, an unreadable thought reflected in them. “...I am glad father was with Subaru and you nonetheless. I can't imagine him taking another disappointment well..." 

How could any member of the group that went after the dumb cup not be disappointed? The chalice would have been able to cure not only the Old Man’s wife, but the Cap’n too. As the camp’s shield it’s his duty to protect everyone from everything—including hereditary diseases. When the Old Man mentioned the rumors, he was the first to tell Emilia they absolutely needed to go.

Still— the entire conversation leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The Cap’n was already carrying enough on his shoulder, with being the Hero that defeated the Archbishop of Sloth, the White Whale and the Great Rabbit— did he really need to trouble himself with family drama when the man ain’t even dead? “Why?” 

Reinhard blinks. “Well, it has been many years—” 

“—no, not that.” Garfiel’s scowl grows. “Why do ya need to imagine it? Yar dad’s alive, you could ask him.”

Reinhard just stares, before a bitter smile covers his lips. “Although true, my father doesn’t enjoy my company, so I wouldn’t like to impose myself when unnecessary.” 

But he is alive, is what he wants to say. “My mom’s dead,” is what he says instead. Because damn— he saw the Old Man, the even Older Man and him talk during dinner and how Ottobro almost lost his head trying to stop Old and Older from killing each other, right before Priscilla arrived saying this was the most amusing shitshow she had seen in weeks. The Old Man genuinely didn’t want to be with Reinhard and his dad.

But he is alive. All three of them are. They can talk. While Garfiel's mom is dead and gone and he can't tell her how much he loves her. "Just because your father is with us, and the Cap’n is strong enough to carry the weight of yar family drama, doesn't mean he should."

Reinhard's eyes widen again. "I—" 

"The Cap’n sleeps longer when he overworks himself," Garfield cuts, his words stronger than any punch he ever did. 

And Reinhard's mouth shuts with an audible click, expression shifting into one of horror— as it should. 

"He carries everyone's problems on his back— no matter how tired he is...!" He clenches his fists. "The Cap’n is so cool, cooler than the Sage and Reid! But precisely because he is like that is that we need to push ourselves harder. Be the people the Cap’n wants us to be, even if he is too shy to tell us. Because— because...!" 

“—will you two please SHUT UP?!" The Cap’n's door parts open with a bang, and the Cap’n appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes while scowling. “Some of us are actually trying to sleep around here!”

Garfiel rushes back to his room only minutes later, but also doesn't miss Reinhard walking in direction to the Old Man's room rather than the hallway he originally came from.

beta read by @daemonerik

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i can't believe i was in the spn/destiel fandom during its peak but never touched an a/b/o fic until steddie came along

[jokeringcutio]

Little Bunny (A Black Phone Drabble) - Grabber x (F) Reader

Drabble fill for the Anon who so kindly donated to me. Anon Wrote: My prompt will be a girl gets nabbed by the grabber, & when he goes through her backpack, he finds she carries around a yellow comfort plush bunny (mocks and coos at her for it?) srry if thats weird lmao AN: Thank you for your donation. With your money I am already on my halfway goal of buying a new pair of glasses :D Which I really need, so thank you loads. You have no idea how much this means to me <3 Rating: NC-17 Due to themes, smut-related words and references. Little Bunny – Grabber x Reader

When you opened your eyes it was to the hunched form of a man. His lean, slender frame was bent over something, his back to you. You could faintly see the traces of his shoulder-length hair. Like Gollum hunched over his most coveted treasure.

Your vision was blurry, so you sat up and rubbed your eyes. Something sturdy was beneath you, not as soft as it should have been but no stones either. The room around you was dark and murky. There was a dull pounding in your skull and your lungs ached as if you’d inhaled too much smoke. Vague flashes of memories suddenly hit you. Of a man. A van. Black balloons. And you, polite and kind as ever, offering to help him.

Had your own kindness gotten you into this predicament? It did not seem fair.

Once your gaze slid back to the man, you noticed that he had turned around to look at you. But instead of meeting a human expression, you met the artificial smile of a pale devil with horns. No human face was visible. The man was wearing a mask to obscure his features from you, a sign that whatever he had in mind for you wasn’t going to be something good.

Devilish intentions, you thought, while a shudder of fear ran down your spine. A monster. Not a man. 

“Ah, so you are awake,” his low voice groused. But there was a certain playfulness to it. As if he was somehow twisting his voice into a caricature version of his own. He was toying with you. You brought your hand up to your chest at the realization, breathing rapidly while you tried to remain calm.

“Where am I?” You asked the first question that came to mind. Your sight was still returning to you, but you’d quickly noticed your surroundings. The same plain walls stared at you, all around. The only piece of furniture, if it could be described as such, was the mattress you woke up on.

“What are you doing with my bag?” you asked, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the blotted mattress. You noticed something sticky beneath your hands and glanced down shortly to see the many spots that must have been created by fluids. But what kind, you didn’t wish to give a thought.

You quickly looked up at your captor again. He was squatted next to your bag. The horrendous mask was directed at you, his eyes glinted behind it.

“Where am I?” you asked once more, as he still had not replied yet.

But it was as if your words were absorbed. You frowned slightly, aware that something wasn’t quite right – other than being abducted. Still, the man did not reply. Instead, he seemed to let out a heavy sigh - judging by the way his shoulders rose and then slumped again. And then he finally turned his head away from you to bring his focus back onto the contents of your bag.

You watched how the man removed a pen from the bag and seemed to study it. The mask tilted to the side while his finger stroked sensually past the plastic pen. Then, his hand up until his wrist disappeared into your bag again. A low breath could be heard, muffled behind the mask’s lips. Was he excited? A shudder, then his hand slowly emerged from your bag again. You half expected to see the pen again, but he had taken out your phone instead.

He studied it with a quiet curiosity. And you watched him with the same silent morbid curiosity. His thumb stroked past the edge until it pressed the power button. Your screen flashed to life shortly before it was silenced and darkness consumed the screen. The man was studying your things, you realized, as he tossed the phone back in and pulled out the next of your belongings.

His hands stroked with reverence past each item that he took out. He rattled your keys gently, then revealed a few items you always carried with you, then your wallet. There was an erotic kind of curiosity to the way he studied each little thing. You thought he had touched everything inside.

Everything, except one thing.

“Now, what do we have here?” The man’s voice made your breath hitch in your throat. It was low, ungodly so. You felt how a spark of longing shot deep into your core. Slick gathered between your folds and you quickly pressed your knees together, forcing your legs to rub against each other in an attempt to ignore what his voice was doing to you.

How could you get this aroused from sound alone? Once again, it wasn’t fair.

You shyly glimpsed away, afraid that he would notice your reaction or see the blush that must be on your cheeks. Apparently, it did not work, for the man had turned towards you fully now and took a deep breath. You heard it. Heard the inhale, heard the slight rasp to it. Then a low chuckle.

“Isn’t that cute?” the man continued, and you would have tried to avoid looking his way if it hadn’t been for the plush bunny he held in his hands. Reverently, as with all of your belongings, he held it, carried it almost on his palms. A yellow plush bunny that gave you comfort when times were harsh – and they had been lately.

If your cheeks hadn’t been red before, they certainly flushed now. Ashamed, you stared at him and bit your lip, biting down any comments you might have wanted to make.

“Why would a big girl like you have a need for a thing like this?” And it was a good question he asked, one that you often had asked yourself during your weaker moments. But then you always reminded yourself of the comfort it brought you. Was owning a plush animal such a bad thing for an adult? Did it make you weak or foolish?

If anything, you thought daring to carry your bunny around with you had always made you stronger.

Then his voice broke you out of your thoughts. Any leering comments you had expected were swapped aside for something far more sinister.

“Is it that you want to have something to cuddle with?” he hummed, the tone’s implication clear.  “Or someone?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what he must be hinting at, and you carefully scooted farther away from the stranger and as far back onto the dingy mattress as you could, until your back hit the hard wall. Eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief, you held up an arm in front of you as if to stop him from getting any closer.

“Ah, suddenly getting shy?” the man cooed before you could even utter a word in your defense. You watched as he moved his arms to his sides. Your plush bunny was pressed against his hip, flattened with its soft face against the hardness of his hipbone, its ears tapped against the cold metal of the man’s belt.

And you winced. Your poor bunny.

“Please, sir,” finally you found your voice and the opportunity to get a word in between the man’s rambling. “It’s mine, my comfort bunny. Could you give it back?”

The mask tilted but there was no mistaking. His eyes were directed at your outstretched hand, your arm still in front of you, muscles slightly trembling. And something started to smolder in them. Some kind of perverted dark pleasure was visible in his eyes.

“That’s all right,” the man’s voice was low and leering. For a moment you expected him to hand back your plush toy. But then you saw him raise the bunny to his mask and heard the rough rasp of his voice. “You won’t be needing this any longer. If it is comfort you seek, then it is comfort I shall give you.”

And against all of your expectations, down the bunny went, onto the dirt-covered stone floor. Without thinking you dove forward to catch it, ending up in front of the man’s feet on the floor.

Your hand came to rest upon the plush fur of your most beloved toy, when suddenly a shoe was upon it, crushing the back of your hand under the rubber soles of a sturdy shoe. You lay vulnerably in front of the man, completely at his mercy. A pained groan escaped you through gritted teeth, and you looked up to meet the devilish silhouette that towered above you.

Your kidnapper seemed nothing more but a shadow, the mask’s features hidden in the darkness of the room. But his eyes, oh! They glinted like embers in the night. A pure evil shone within them; the promise of a devil.

“I think,” the low murmured words fell silent on the basement’s tiles and he added a little more weight onto your hand, just enough that the pain became unbearable, but not enough to crack bones. “You and I are going to get real comfortable around each other, sweetheart.”

Then, his foot lifted from your hand, making you gasp in relief. Your other hand cradled your hurt one, bringing it close to your chest, your bunny as well – no way you were going to let go of it now.

Your kidnapper looked down at you, hands on his hips, and huffed. “Oh yes,” his voice lowered another notch until the low vibrations sent tingles of pleasure down your sopping cunt. Despite being scared, you felt the thrill of being in this man's hands. Especially when his low murmur brought another promise:

“Real comfortable.”

[superbellsubways]

not allowed to touch grass sorry

[nelweensfic]

A wish

Izuku's looking at his window, enjoying the summer night breeze. Since he was a teacher he never enjoy the meteor rain like before. Every years he used to see it with Kacchan, but ever since they graduate from UA and seperated from their carrer, he never had chance to spend time with Kacchan like before.

Kacchan was busy saving people, and Izuku would never blame him. They trained hard for this, and seeing his childhood friend fulfilling his dream was amazing.

He looked at the sky with a bit of regret in his heart, wondering where was Kacchan and if he had eaten already. Then he saw it.

A shooting star!

Immediately Izuku closed his eyes and prayed that Kacchan would be always safe. He always prayed that, making sure his friend would come back to him without problem.

"I should remind him to eat..." Izuku mumbled as he took his phone from his pocket. "I know he won't answer but at least I'll try!"

He sent the message and looked up at the sky again. His phone buzzed once again.

[Kacchan] : Why are you still up?

[Deku] : Enjoying the meteors, why?

Izuku's heart beat increased with happiness, Kacchan took time to answer him. He was glad that their friendship fot better those last years.

"You should come on your roof, nerd! The view is better!" Kacchan's voice from above startled Izuku!

"Waaa-chan! What are you doing here?" Izuku leaned from his balcony to see the blond on the roof of his appartment.

"Enjoying the meteors with you!"

Katsuki jumped from the roof and landed smoothly on the balcony. His cocky smile made Izuku flustered.

"Why here?" He asked, almost embarassed that Kacchan was so close.

"It's been a long time. And I was around so..." Katsuki shrugged and looked up at the sky. "But I'm right, the view is shit here!"

"Hey! It's a great view!" Izuku argued!

"Let's improved that!"

Before Izuku could ask what he meant, Kacchan took him by his waist and used his quirk to jump out the balcony. Izuku felt the wind on his hair and had a good memory of when he could use his own quirk to do that...

"Now it's better! What do you think, nerd?" Katsuki was smiling, proud of himself.

The best view he could have in years. Katsuki was here, alive and safe. Beside him.

"You're right Kacchan. It's the best view!"

[kibblz-n-bitz]

idk if you take requests but i would love some more thirst-stle headcanons about luffy likeeeeee

OF COURSE!!! I'm so glad u like my HCs :>

I'll actually post a snippet of the fic I've been working on!

“My turn!” He chirped against your lips as he began kissing down your body. He stopped to leave a few love bites, sucking on your neck and collar. When he reached your chest, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, bringing up a hand to play with the other. His other hand dove lower. You whined, squirming as he toyed with your clit and pinched your nipple at the same time. He kissed and nipped at your chest, delighting in the marks he left behind. He gave equal attention to your other breast before continuing his descent, groping and squeezing your body. He loved how soft you were. It made you really fun to cuddle and he loved the bruises his fingers would leave behind from grabbing your hips too tightly. He looked up at you when he finally reached your dripping cunt. He moved your legs to rest over his shoulders as he pressed kisses to your plush thighs. Using his hold on your legs, he spread them a little more, smiling as he gazed down at your wet pussy. He licked his lips, suddenly giddy. “Ready?”

He didn’t wait for your answer before he ran his tongue through your folds. Your gasp turned into a whimper as his tongue lapped over you more, flicking your clit. He groaned into your cunt at your taste on his tongue. Luffy continued with his languid swipes before pushing his tongue a little deeper, ducking past your entrance. This is where his devil fruit came in handy! His tongue stretched into you, flicking at your walls before retreating, only to repeat a mere second later. Your hips twitched and you whined out into the air before gasping for breath. Your hand reached down to run a hand into Luffy’s hair. The other grasped the pillow. Luffy looked up at you as he plunged his tongue deeper and deeper into you, playfulness shining in his eyes at your reaction. You moaned and writhed against him out of your mind with pleasure.

“M-more… Luffy,” You mewled as you clenched around his tongue. He switched up, pulling his tongue out of you and replacing it with his fingers. He huffed against your cunt, taking a moment to catch his breath. It didn’t last long though, because soon enough he nosed his way forward, sealing his lips around your clit. He sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth as he dipped two fingers inside of you. Slick, wet noises filled the air. You cried out and writhed against him, causing Luffy to grunt and use his grip on your waist to pin you to the bed. “‘M so close Luffy please.”

You were mindless. Rolling your hips against his face, chasing your peak. It was clumsy but slow, with no real rhythm, but growing greedier by the minute. Your thighs began to quiver around Luffy’s head. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, as he doubled down on his efforts. He alternated between slow and fast licks against your clit, while stretching his fingers to reach and curl deep within you.

“Mmf- Fuck! Luffy,” You gasped, voice wobbling. “I’m s- hnngh… S-so close I- haah… I’m gon-na -!”

Your hips lifted off of the bed, trying to twist out of Luffy’s grasp. He lifted your lower body up a little in his arms, mouth still slotted against your folds. This way you couldn’t hide from the overwhelming pleasure electrocuting your body. You often fought for your orgasms, but Luffy refused to let this one go. He held you tight as you moaned his name. A groan vibrated against your pussy as your release flooded his mouth. You gave up your thrashing, body bouncing a little as you slumped against the mattress. You moaned as you rode out your orgasm on Luffy’s tongue. He kept his mouth on you until you were twitched from oversensitivity. Running a hand through his hair, you gently pulled him away from your shaky thighs and spasming cunt.

This boy was a mess. Your fluids covered the lower half of his face, glistening against the lights shining onto the stage. His jet-black hair was tousled from your pulling. He smiled at you as if it were just the two of you, seemingly ignoring the cum dripping off of his chin.

-idk how to do borders cus I'm posting this from my phone but i hope you enjoyed!! :D

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

it's already friday here, just after midnight, so starting today off with a new wip 😁

I'll be back with alive shannon next time, but today smth new bc I started a new smut 👀 like, this was such a random idea, and I was half asleep when I wrote this and I have no idea if I'll even finish it but here's a lil bit of it haha (I don't feel as confident about this one as I did the previous two smuts, so I'm shamelessly asking for validation bc this fic will require a lot of it lmao why do i do this to myself)

so here's a new wip that I think for now I'll call buddie phone sex smut? lol

___

Eddie’s staring at the words, for a minute pretending they’re directed at him, and at the picture, seeing his best friend like he never has before, and before he knows it, his hand is moving under the covers, over the growing bulge in his underwear, palming himself. Shit, he’s not about to jerk off to Buck. Especially since the messages clearly weren’t meant for him. That feels wrong, no matter how horny he might be. The next text from Buck doesn’t help, making Eddie's vision go red with jealousy. All it says is a panicked ‘OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY IT WASNT 4 U!!!! IGNORE IT SORRY!!!’

And, look, Eddie could say that it’s all good, delete the message, and pretend it never happened. Except, the more he looks, the more turned on he gets, and his hand starts stroking his dick through the fabric, and- and his mind is clouded by arousal and jealousy, and such strong feeling of possessive want, he’s not thinking when he throws the covers away, takes a picture of his bulge, cock hard and leaking, a wet spot visible on his underwear, and sends it to Buck in response, with a text that says ‘no worries, I liked it. fuck, I want that gorgeous cock all to myself’.

‘HOLY SHIT’ is what he gets back, and not even two seconds later, Buck’s calling him.

___

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