#or your kneecaps will not be safe)

[didderd]

thank you @skelekins for the kofis! <3

here are your 5 minute doodles! :3

Jewel papyrus by skelekins Snaps sans by me

[vintageskeletons]

LIAB-verse zukkas based on conversations @ssreeder and i had, because it's their birthdayyyayyayayayayy!!!

happy birthday to my one and only prison pal, cookie in my cookie day, wine to my lemon juice etc etc.

you're insufferably amazing and amazingly insufferable. never change sreeds! :) <3

[actual-changeling]

If you ship Joel and Ellie in any kind of romantic and/or sexual way, I am kindly asking you to stay away from my blog and my writing.

I will NOT disclose any kind of personal information outside of the fact that it makes me incredibly uncomfortable at best and triggers me at worst. I do not want to have to think about people misinterpreting the physical touch and affection I write about, this is a father-daughter relationship and nothing else.

My intention is to deal with sensitive and traumatic topics in a respectful way that allows people to find comfort and catharsis, and I want to keep both my blog and my ao3 page a safe space for people.

The fact that I even have to say this honestly makes me nauseatingly upset, but I will not say anything else on the matter. If you are being disrespectful or hurtful, you will be blocked, end of story.

[mysticcomfort]

@vore-toast

[creative-caramel-coffee]

They say to write what you know but I’m pretty sure they didn’t mean project all your own problems on your characters and make them suffer… hehe whoops.

If you can’t tell … I have some pretty angsty (ok mildly angsty) hurt / comfort fics coming soon. They are all ready to post but I don’t like posting more than two fics per day in case of future writers block (knocking on wood rn).

Stay safe and drink water my friends <3

[epitomees]

"I dare anyone to try even lifting me off the ground, let alone chucking me just because I'm short."

[cowboyrobholding]

AARON START I'VE PRAYED FOR DAYS LIKE THIS

[azurskysmobile]

I love vandalizing the unused pages of old school books. Anyways uhh water rat with a temper is back?

[mosscaller]

Uncomfortable month, year, life until they stop being hateful.

[blackcupidangel]

Things Batmom has said:

“Keep your father out of the kitchen, I’ll be back by morning.”

“We’ll if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions”

“It means you can either drive yourself home or I’ll have Alfred come get you.”

“Look at my handsome boys growing into fine gentlemen.”

“Stay safe, I love you”

“Eyes open, baby birds.”

“Alfred and I made food for the week, it’s in the fridge” *punch* “Your running shoes are on the left side of the closet” *kicks* “Make sure his project is done tonight, it’s due tomorrow.”

“I’m going to let you fix it, because if I fix it I’m going to jail.”

“It’s called,” she raises one fist “fuck around,” then she raises her other fist, “and find out.”

“You don’t even know me, you don’t even know my real name…” she leans in with harden eyes yet calm features, “I’m the fuckin boogie man”

“Do not play with me, I am not the one, two, or the three.”

“Don’t kill him.” //“I’m sorry but who’s the one tied up here?” //“Darling—“// “Because the way I see it, it’ll be in self defense.”

“Just one leg.” “No” “Both legs?” “No!” “You’re right….I’ll go for their kneecap.”

“So…you’ve chosen to disobey me.”

“Alright now…don’t write a check you can’t cash.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you because of your tone of voice.” She leans in with a hand cupping her ear to encourage a second chance.

“Do I look like booboo the fool?!”

“Brilliant.”

“As mad as I am, I can’t let you shoot him.”// “Just this once?” //“No.” //“I’ll go for the knees. Nothing vital.” //“Hhgh.”

“You really hit the nail on the head with that one Batman.”

“And WHO do you think you’re taking to?”

“Don’t tell your father.”

“Be home by 10, or I start looking windows.”

“I’m so very proud of you!”

“A girl’s gotta be prepared.”

“You know…about the whole guns thing, I’m still not so sure I feel as strongly as you do.”

“Way to go, Bruce.”

“Touch my child, I dare you. Make my day.”

“Ahh…Motherhood.”

—————————————————————————

Heyyyyyyy hotties I’m backkkkkkk. Send me asks and requests as I’m easing my way back into things. It might take me a while to find my flow and writing style so bear with me please. I missed you all so much honestly.

[mielmoto]

"No napoleon complex to be found here, no sir. The gods made me this compact so I have a perfect excuse to bat my eyelashes at great, big, tall muscle-y ladies and ask them to grab something from the top shelf for me."

[buttercuparry]

Often in the news regarding Gaza, there have been reports about children being severely injured and having had their limbs amputated to stop the spread of sepsis or infection. This is nothing new and the occupation forces have been known to deliberately target Palestinians, often with the intention to disable them for life. An Al Jazeera article written in 2017, points out the policy of kneecapping and I can't help but think how many people have been victims of Israeli military even before the genocide began last year. In fact Mohammad Ayesh’s younger brother developed a difficulty with hearing because his eardrums burst due to constant bombing near their apartment back in 2014; and now in this genocide, he is trying to survive through a precarious situation while being disabled.

The situation in Gaza is dire, nowhere is safe and no one knows when they will be a hair's breadth away from mortal danger and so it is of utmost importance that we help provide Mohammad’s brother with the necessary funds to fix his hearing aids. It is absolutely terrible for disabled Gazans who are having to flee over and over again to escape Israeli aggression; Mohammad ( @ayeshjourney )  and his family have recently been displaced after being trapped under artillery fire for HOURS!!

Mohammad needs your help now. He needs the funds to continue to survive through this genocide and to help his brother fix his hearing aides. So please BOOST and DONATE. Remember that it is because of him that so many families have been able to fundraise on tumblr. He faces extreme danger and yet continues to meet different families so that he may vet their fundraisers, for OUR BENEFIT. Remember this please: the whole vetting process, where Mohammad has to travel long distances is for us. So now it is our turn to help him.

[heartfeltcherie]

i had this idea pop into my head a couple nights ago and i finally put it into words! hope u all enjoy <33

wc 662

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

yet another meeting.

charlie had gathered everyone in the hotel’s lounge area for a rundown of new team building exercises that she wanted to explain to everyone. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested in helping out, you were.

it was just the fact that the couch cushions you were currently sat on were providing the utmost comfort and it also wasn’t helping that you were trying not to nod off in between sentences — you swear you closed your eyes at “trust fall exercises” and opened them back up at “writing out your feelings is also important”

and then there was the red radio demon you were sat beside.

alastor.

everyone feared his presence, wouldn’t dare to even look in his direction. but the way he was with everyone else, he wasn’t the same way towards you. you didn’t know how to describe it; sitting beside him right now, you felt a sort of… warmth. and of course with that usual smile he has plastered on his face, you don’t know which emotion he’s feeling.

but it doesn’t make you wanna run away and hide. instead, you feel contentment. you feel safe next to him, even though you know that he could have you dead in cold blood within seconds.

and this is perhaps the fifth time he’s watched you, out of the corners of his eyes, nod off for what seems like five seconds, only to almost jolt awake again in what seems like… panic? oh you poor little thing.

“you know, cher” he’s not even focused on charlie’s tangent anymore, instead on you, the tired little doe that can barely keep her eyes open. he still keeps his eyes trained forward. “if you’re feeling so out of sorts, i could provide you with a tad bit more comfort, if you truly desired” his voice is a low whisper, careful not to disturb the other hotel stayers as he’d rather not bring attention to the fact that he maybe cares about someone. how preposterous.

you look up at alastor through your tired eyes. he has one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on his kneecap — you think he looks so handsome sitting this close to you. he meets your gaze with a turn of his head, careful not to cause such a commotion as he glances between you and his shoulder.

oh?

it’s a very sweet gesture. especially coming from the radio demon himself because you know he hates when people invade his privacy. and even though you’ve always wondered what it’s like to fully be in his touch…

you’re scared, shy, all of the above.

and you think the dust of pink on your cheeks gives it all away.

“no need to get so bashful on me, sweetheart, it’s just a simple gesture. besides i can’t have a belle like you being exhausted all day, now can i, hm?”

alastor trains his focus back towards charlie as you shyly take his offer, slowly laying your head down on his suit-clad shoulder and it’s… very cozy, you decide. the small amount of contact feels very serene as you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. and god forbid anyone looks in your direction, otherwise you probably wouldn’t hear the end of it. especially angel dust who’s been bugging you about your little crush on the radio demon.

you decide to go a bit further and link your arm around his, only for a bit more warmth your mind declares is the perfect excuse while your heart fluttering in your tummy, watching for any disapproval alastor has. but he shows none. it’s the greatest feeling in the world to be this close to him. you shouldn’t get used to this… but god, do you want to, so bad.

“you gonna put me to bed too after this?” you whisper jokingly in alastor’s ear, seeing his ear twitch just the slightest. how can an overlord be this adorable?

“don’t push your luck, cher”

please reblog/comment if you enjoyed my work, it’s greatly appreciated ♡

[milliesfishes]

ok but like what if someone hurts you and you don’t wanna tell billy about it bc you don’t wanna start something but he sees it and gets REALLY protective and starts asking a bunch of questions? also i love you❤️

I love you too anon ❤️❤️❤️ @phantomamor , @francixoxoxo no need to recount the votes

౨ৎ꣑ৎyou get hurt and don't tell billy౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid TW: violence by man

Your side was aching. The throbbing sensation shot fingers of pain like the roots of a tree squiggling across your midsection, causing you to wince as you got down from your horse. The air was crisp, the thin fabric of your coat doing little to keep you safe from the winter chill. You winced, hand flying to the affected area as you planted one foot on the ground, and then the other, snow and ice crunching under your boot. You petted the horse's neck, trying to breathe through the pain.

It had been a long time coming. This seemed to happen whenever you went into town. The same man would approach you, ask where you were going and what you were doing and you'd brush him off. His intentions were anything but pure- you could see it all too clearly from the look in his eyes.

All the while you ran your errands today you kept to yourself, letting your hair curtain your cheeks. It was best to keep your head down, you'd discovered, to not answer any questions and simply pretend he wasn't there. Surely it would work this time.

You managed to get through it all without him speaking to you again. As you packed your purchases into your saddlebags you finally allowed yourself a sigh of relief. Finally you could look forward to making your way back home.

But like a shadow, the man reappeared, and this time he was close enough for you to smell the sickly sweet of alcohol on his breath. Your shoulders had tensed, and a dart of fear hit you dead center. He said something you couldn't hear due to your pounding heart.

There was a beat of silence when you failed to respond, hoping he would go away. You held your breath, stiffening, wishing Billy were here.

It happened in an instant that your memory discarded immediately. The dirt was beneath your palms, skinning your hands raw and bloody. Your knees hit the earth with a dull thud. Ice. The snow became crimson and the cold nearly buckled your elbows. But you held yourself up, an overwhelming pain in your side tearing at the numbness like scissors. Voices were muffled around you.

You could hear the man shouting, his words slurred. An outlaw's whore, he called you. Taking in a shaky breath, you tried to regather yourself, hastily put your pieces back together.

A kind soul helped you up. You thanked them distractedly. When you were asked if you were okay you nodded, fingers curling to cover your hands. The ride home was blurry. There was hardly anything to do other than grasp the reins and stare straight ahead. Your choice of protection from the temperature hardly made any difference. All your senses were fuzzy.

As you now treaded toward your little dwelling, a sense of dread overwhelmed you, the dull shield dissolving to reveal a blizzard of feelings flurrying around in your chest. You knew Billy was home- he wasn't able to leave much these days. Wanted posters bearing his face had spread the town limits like a plague, keeping him from being at your side. Even as he'd watched you leave the house this morning you could tell he wasn't fond of the idea. His sweetheart moseying into town all by herself? It was unthinkable.

You uncurled your hands, surveying the dried blood that crystallized on your palms. It stung, adding to the hurt in your knees and your side, which had hit the ground first.

Kneeling and putting the pressure on your lower leg rather than your kneecaps, you plunged your hands into a mound of icy white, teeth sinking into your lip so you wouldn't make any noise. Mussing around your fingers, when you lifted them it left bloody palm prints in the previously pale substance. At least your hands were cleaner now, even if you were shivering.

Standing, you kicked more snow over the evidence. No need for Billy to come out later and find it. He'd have questions, and you didn't want to answer any. He had enough to worry about these days.

Stomping your feet at the makeshift porch, you twisted the door handle and made your way inside. Billy was kneeling in front of the fire, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He stared into the flames, endlessly contemplating.

You hung your hat by the door and toed off your boots, setting your bag down. He looked up, a grin broadening his lips. As you smiled back at him, your chin quivered from the cold. He waited until you took your coat off before reaching a hand out. "C'mere."

Gratefully you took it, letting him pull you into the cocoon of his arms. He dragged the corners of the blanket around you too, tangling your legs with his. Billy swayed back and forth just slightly, one big hand rubbing up and down your back in hopes that the friction would inject warmth back into your body.

He kissed your cheek, nosing against it. "How was town?" Even the low vibration of his voice was like a healing balm to your train wreck of a time.

"Good," you promised, smiling sweetly. Billy gathered your hair behind your ear, snuggling you closer with his other arm.

"You're freezin', sweetheart," he murmured, and you shivered, almost as a response. At that he adjusted the blanket so it covered your back and got up, heavy footsteps thumping the air like a heartbeat. You watched him snatch another blanket from the edge of the sofa, hurrying back to you with the urgency only a lover could have.

Billy spread it out on the floor, sitting down and reaching for you. You obliged quickly, lying right beside him, closer to the fire. Before you laid down you tossed the further edge of your blanket over both of your feet. When you settled next to him it was paradise.

He pulled you right up against his side, lips finding their home in your hair. "'m sorry I couldn't go with you." Guilt swathed the corners of his apology, only cementing your decision not to bring up what had happened today. Learning about it would only heighten his feelings, get him worked up over something neither of you could control.

"It's okay," you promised, opening your eyes. His own were solemn, and you read something in them that couldn't be put into words. Still, you understood. He didn't think it was okay at all.

Sliding an arm under his shoulders, you gently tugged him to rest his head on your chest. Billy's fingers crawled across your stomach to grasp yours, closing them to his palm. He let out a breath, body relaxing.

Your opposite hand raked through his dark curls, lazily scatching his scalp. He let out a breath. "Baby."

"Mhm?"

"'m gettin' sleepy."

"Go to sleep," you whispered, dragging your hand up and down his head. He was holding the fingers of your other hand in the way a child would hold a bear- purely for comfort.

Billy's breathing grew soft, and you touched your lips to his forehead before closing your eyes, his weight easing you to sleep as well. As you drifted off, you began making a list of things to do later. Start dinner...put everything you'd bought away... Your dreams claimed you before you could think of anything else.

Maybe you'd expected sleep to be unsettling with everything that had happened today looming in the background. But it was peaceful, nothing but pink sunset skies dancing under your eyelids. As you woke, you hummed sleepily and wondered if Billy's presence had anything to do with it. Or maybe it was that it was still light outside.

Cracking your eyes open, you noticed his head wasn't on your chest anymore. But he was still holding your hand.

Your hand. Now your eyes were wide as you sat up, meeting him where he knelt at your side. He was combing over the skin of your palm, examining the reddened scrapes that jaggedly tore your skin.

Without looking up at you, he said, "You're hurt." It wasn't a question.

Pulling your skirt over your knees, you were about to respond when he batted your hand away, peeling back the fabric to reveal your bruising knees. Now he was looking up at you, concern striking his irises like lightning in a cornfield. "Where else?"

His voice was still gentle, but you could hear the no-nonsense of it. Giving up your ruse, you touched your side, by your hip. He pushed up the hem of your dress to see, and your thighs shyly closed, an automatic habit.

Billy bent down, examining the bruise beginning to form there. He touched it as carefully as he could, pads of his fingers landing like a butterfly on a flower. You couldn't help the wince- it was still sensitive.

He sat up at that, covering you up with your skirt again. You didn't look at him even though you knew he was. Instead you stared at the plaid fabric of the blanket, bunched up from your sleep-ridden twisting.

You knew he wanted you to meet his eyes. But you didn't dare, shame coating your being and making you wish you had something to hide under. Now he was worried and it was all your fault.

Cupping one of your cheeks, Billy murmured, "Sweetheart. Can you look at me? Hm?"

The way he said it was so tender that you did without even thinking. And when your eyes found his, two magnets drawn to each other, you instantly wanted to cry.

Maybe it was the fact that you had thought you could handle yourself. Maybe it was that somehow you hadn't stopped to realize how you felt about any of it until now. Or maybe it was his soulful eyes so keen to know what had caused you any semblance of pain. But the entire story poured from you like water from a creek, and he didn't tear his eyes from your face the entire time.

In telling, the dreadful truth hit you. You couldn't remember most of the interaction, and now he was asking questions you didn't feel like you could answer. Billy was grasping your elbows, brow knit tight. Was he following you? What did he say before he pushed you? Do you remember what he looked like?

But you didn't know if he'd traced your steps into the store. The man's words, when recalled, were nothing more than muddied sounds, his face blurry in your memory. Frustrated tears sprung to your eyes as you managed, "I don't know. I can't remember."

"Sweetheart-" Billy was pulling you in before you knew it, his lips finding your hair. "Baby...shh. You're safe now, I've gotcha."

Clinging to him, you strained your mind, combing it for something, anything to tell him. But each time you came up blank. You cursed your inability to know, upset that something that had happened to you wasn't coming up easy.

Billy's hand rested at your crown, thumb roving over your hair. He rubbed your back gently, letting you relax. You were starting to calm down when he asked in a whisper, "Did he say anything 'bout me?"

Outlaw's whore. You paused a second too long and he nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Okay. Okay." Taking in a shaky breath, you shook your head, looking up at him. His hand remained where it was.

"It's okay Billy, it was fine," you tried, but he exhaled through his nose, hand at your crown sliding so his thumb was touching your jaw, other fingers still in your hair.

"No." His jaw clenched, and something sank in your stomach. "Not fine. Not fine at all." He caressed your cheek, and the silence that followed nearly made you cry all over again.

He felt guilty enough over his soul, but worse still at how it stained those around him. You tried desperately to erase it, not to give him any reason to feel ashamed of who he was or what his past had forced him to do, but it was nearly impossible to keep things from him. You couldn't shield him from the looks of disdain thrown at you when you were on his arm.

And you'd learned you certainly couldn't hide something like this.

Billy would take it like he was the one who'd hurt you, even though he would never lift a harmful finger. More guilt was foisted on him than the person who'd done it.

You reached out, holding his face between your hands. "Billy no...I'm fine, everything's fine-" your voice hitched when you saw his glossy eyes. In a strained whisper, you tried to smooth it over. "I'm fine."

He reached up for one of your palms, clasping it in his and bringing it to his mouth. A lone tear escaped your eye, falling down your cheek like a shooting star. Using the hand still holding yours, he thumbed it away. "Don't cry over me, sweetheart." A tired smile lifted his lips. "Ain't worth it."

The fire was dying down, and you shivered, unsure if it was the cold or his words. Either way, Billy drew you close to him once more, acting as though what he'd said had disappeared.

It was twisting around your heart like a vine. He was worth everything to you.

He whispered into your hair, "I wish you could see yourself the way I do, sweetheart. You'd know this ain't fine at all."

You were quiet, curling into his chest as the air became thick with irony. Repeating his own words would fall on deaf ears.

[shiny-jr]

Get you a guy with thighs bigger than yours.

- Warning: Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: König.

- Summary: Thick thighs do not save lives.

- Note: This came about because I was just talking crazy in the dms with a mutual. I originally wasn't going to ever let this see the light of day, but then I decided, why the hell not? If I get smacked with delayed embarrassment, I'll just delete. Yeah, I know this isn't what I usually write and post, but oh well. Anyways, after this, we will be back to our regular scheduled content shortly. Oh, and sorry for minor mistakes, I wrote this like at midnight.

. . .

You decided to put a movie on. Just for a distraction. After about an hour into the movie, the leather couch got a bit uncomfortable since it stuck to your skin. So you slunk down to the floor, bringing a pillow or two down with you to use in case extra comfort was needed. The movie was beginning to lose your attention, but you still watched the screen attentively as if you were still focused on the film's plot.

What ended up catching your attention, was the slight shifting couch. Well, slight probably wasn't the correct word, as the movement was anything but light. It was safe to assume the shifting was from a guy who was well over 200 Ibs and a few inches short of 7 ft, although you didn't know the exact numbers because you never wanted to ask König outright.

It was easier to hear the movement, as the large figure scoot a few inches over. Instead of sitting beside you like he was a few seconds earlier, he had not so discreetly moved to take your vacant spot and sit directly behind you. He tried to stay quiet, he really did, but it wasn't so easy for him given his size. At the very least, he treaded carefully, not bumping your back once with his legs or accidentally knocking the back of your skull with his kneecaps.

You didn't move, but your eyes slowly glanced downward, where you could see the tip of his boots. Custom made, as most department stores didn't carry anything in his size. Most articles of clothing he had were custom-made or bought in special stores, save for that odd black diy mask he often wore over his head like a hood to hide himself from the world. Too afraid to lean back and accidentally make contact and disturb this fragile peace, you remain still despite the slight ache in your lower back that make you want to lean back and stretch. But you don't. All you could do was try to revert your attention back to the movie and not think any unholy thoughts, that is, until you heard more movement.

To not bump his knees against you, Konig spread his legs a bit and leaned down. The edges of his homemade cloth mask brushed against your back as you stiffened up, and you could make out the shape of his head beside yours as he whispered, "Do you, uh, want some...?"

Yes. "What???"

"Popcorn? Do you want some popcorn...??"

Oh.

After deciding whether or not you'd accept his offer, silence ensued, only fueled by the movie playing on the television. You weren't gonna lie, you have no idea what the hell was going on in the story anymore. A solid minute passed when he spoke again, sounding just as unsure as the first time. He spoke, as if whatever thoughts he had on his mind earlier where left to simmer for long enough.

"Scheiße. Sorry, should I have not moved here...? You can still lean back if you want?"

"Oh, okay... I, um, I'll do that."

Your back was starting to ache a little from sitting up without support, so, feeling just as awkward as he was feeling, you leaned your back against the couch. Instantly, as soon as you did that, your peripheral vision was covered by his knees and part of his legs. The movie was pretty much pointless now, as you were currently wondering whether you should thank whatever gods existed or curse them for the fact that König did not have shorts on. Even without shorts and with specially fitted cargo pants, they could not conceal the insane bulk of his legs. Especially his thighs. Good lord. The two pillows you brought down before from the couch were essentially useless now because on each side of your head were his limbs that rivaled the best of My Pillow.

Think of something else, anything else, is what you tried to tell yourself.

That idea would go out the window as soon as you felt something in your hair. Carefully twisting a few strands, you felt some thick and calloused fingers gently try and feel the texture of your hair. But it lasted only for a brief second, as he immediately pulled his hands away and murmured a tiny bit louder from his whisper earlier, "Ah, sorry, I should've asked first. I should not have done that. I am sorry––"

"It's okay, I... don't mind." You shrugged it off, and much to your surprise and contentment, he continued.

The first few seconds had a bit more hesitancy, but as time ticked by, seconds turned to minutes, his boldness increased. It started with his large hands carefully feeling the texture of your hair, then it became slow brush strokes as his thick fingers ever-so-carefully untangled knots in your stands of hair. Until eventually it escalated, and he gathered the courage to do something so bold as to scratch your skull. He could easily take your entire face in one hand and crush your skull, but he didn't. There was no sign of any such roughness. Instead, his fingers and nails continued to comb through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. At first when he did this, he paused, and waited for any objections or signals of a negative reaction, but after no such thing, he continued and seemed pleased.

It was after about five-minutes and heavy mental debating in your mind that you decided to suck it up and go for it. What's the worst that could happen? Honestly, you didn't even expect to make it this far.

So, after taking in a breath, you let your head fall to the side. It wasn't like those romantic scenes where you watch the character lean their head against a love interest's shoulder. Oh no, you were skipping that part, your ear landed right on his thigh. Which was probably due to the cushion you placed underneath you on the floor that elevated you a few extra inches, or else you might've missed. In that moment, right as the side of your head landed on its intended target, you felt him freeze. His fingers stopping, nails still on your scalp. A second passed, then two, then three, like time froze.

You were almost tempted to pry yourself off and apologize, but you really didn't want to. But you had to ask. "Is this alright...?"

"J-Ja... I mean, yes..."

Your eyes widened, and you were sure you had on some goofy kinda grin but at least you weren't facing him so he couldn't tell. Once you heard his response, your shoulders slumped, relieved of tension you didn't even know you were carrying.

Even with your head against his thigh that wasn't plush but was still definitely comfortable, you realize you were no better than a man as you resisted the urge to just reach out and squeeze his other thigh that had gotten closer without you even realizing it. You had to dig your nails into your knee to prevent yourself from acting on impulse.

It was definitely almost pure muscle from what you could tell with your head on one of them. Firm but somehow still soft. Thick thighs, in fact, do not save lives, because these thighs have ended who knows how many between them in finishing moves on the battlefield. Lucky bastards. Trying your luck agian, you place a shaky hand on his other thigh, but he didn't react. A good sign? Possibly?

Forget goth gfs and thick plush thighs, apparently giant anxious austrian soldiers with thighs as thick as tree trunks and strong enough to obliterate skulls like melons were the new fad.

Movie totally forgotten, your vision was entirely covered when König leaned down a bit from his spot on the couch and you tilted your head to look up and meet his gaze. The masked man stared at you, his blue eyes peering down at you through the two small slits cut into his mask for his eyes to see. His mask partially dangled, but not fully, so not revealing himself to you. When your gaze traveled away, abruptly his thighs got closer, squishing your cheeks and the sides of your face but not enough to hurt. Just a bit of pressure to get you to look up again.

Oh god.

There was literally no space between your face and his legs anymore, and your arms instinctively went to the outer side of his thighs to try and pry them apart a bit. You didn't try much, maybe because you enjoyed it or because you didn't exactly have strength strong enough to rival his, so all you could do was clutch the pockets of his cargo pants that were just above his knees, your nails digging in softly just to get a quick feel.

Once he saw he had your attention again after he applied a bit of pressure, he cocked his head to the side and continued to look down at you through half-lidded eyes darkened by the shadow of his hood. Then he spoke, but this time with no apprehension in his quiet tone.

"You do know I've ruined others that were in a similar position to what you are in right now?"

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

You're Not Alone (pt 2)

And here is the requested part 2 of vampire spawn!Tav/reader! I'm pretty sure I injected more fluff into this one after the very dark part 1.

Taglist (I guess I could do one in the future): @silverfangmarks @astarioffsimpmain

Summary: You and Astarion deal with the aftermath that is you being turned into a vampire spawn.

After the events of Cazador’s palace, the group quietly head back to the inn, covered in blood and downcast. Astarion keeps his distance from your limp body gently cradled by Halsin, gaze fixed on the ground and disappears the moment the party reaches the inn.

“Where is the vampire spawn going?” Lae’zel hisses. “He is the reason why Y/N is like this, he should be here.”

“Leave him be, Lae’zel. He’s taken the events hard, give him some space for now.” Halsin chides, setting you down on a bed. Your physical injuries can be easily healed with some blood, fortunately Cazador hadn’t gotten far with his poem before the party had crashed the ritual so your scars wouldn’t be as bad as Astarion’s but the main issue is the emotional scarring. Halsin had hoped Astarion would remain by your side so that when you woke up, he could help you but the vampire had gone off by himself and Halsin wasn’t sure when he’d return.

The druid slices open a wound on his wrist and lets the blood drip into your slightly ajar mouth. Your throat bobs instinctively, swallowing the precious fluid but your eyes remain close. At least you’re drinking the blood, that was enough at this stage. He continues letting his blood drip into your mouth until your eyelids flutter and you stir slightly.

“Y/N.” He says. You groan in response, eyes opening blearily.

This place smelled different, looked different. You were in a different place, where were you? You shoot up, eyes wide and muscles tensed, ready to fight. A quick glance around the place told you you were in a room of sorts and the only other person around was Halsin.

“Where am I?” You croak. Your body felt cold, sore and you wanted nothing more than to fall into a deep slumber.

“You’re at Elfsong Tavern’s Inn. Don’t worry, you’re safe now. Cazador is gone, he can’t harm you anymore,” Halsin reassures you, but keeps a distance away to give you some space. You press a hand to your head as memories come rushing back to you. Astarion’s siblings coming for him, you defending him, Cazador appearing and kidnapping you, Astarion’s cry for you, Cazador using you as Astarion’s substitute in the ritual, the pain that followed, the others rescuing you, Astarion holding you tightly in his arms, comforting you…

'“Astarion,” you whisper, “where…”

“He’ll be back soon,” Halsin says, but you can tell he’s lying.

“You don’t know!” You snap accusingly, “stop lying! Where did he go?”

“Calm down, Y/N. After we brought you back, Astarion left for somewhere, although none of us know where or how long he will be gone. He still hasn’t returned.” Halsin raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to worry you after all you’ve just been through.”

“It’s just that simple! Just tell me! Like that!” You snarl, fangs bared. Halsin leans away so that your fangs are far enough from him and you realise what you’ve just done.

“I’m sorry. It’s not even your fault.” You sit back down on the bed, shoulders hunched. “Everything’s been so…much.”

Halsin shakes his head, “it’s quite alright. You have a lot to adjust to, with your new…condition.”

“At least the tadpole still lets me walk in the sun,” you give a hollow laugh, “if Astarion’s ability to do so is anything to go by.”

You smile sadly at the bed beneath you. “Things can never go back to the way it was, and I was so looking forward to doing so many things once we had our tadpoles removed too.”

Halsin remains quiet and you sit there in the silence with him, tears sliding down your cold cheeks. You curl up, hugging your knees to your chest, causing tears to stain your kneecaps. The warmth you once had is all gone now, replaced by a chill that reminds you of what you have lost, of what you once had.

“Are you still hungry?” Halsin quietly breaks the silence, extending his wrist towards you. You shake your head despite the sanguine hunger gnawing at you, afraid of what the act of feeding solidifies.

“Then I will take my leave first. Call me if you need anything.” The druid rises from the stool, sending you a look of concern but leaves you with your thoughts.

You stare at your hands, your cold undead hands and bite your lip. Your new fangs pierce through skin with ease, drawing a little blood and your nostrils flare instinctively at the scent. The sanguine hunger roars again, louder this time. It craves blood, it demands blood but you force it down as far as it can go. You hate it, you hate your new condition. You hate the thought that once your tadpole has been removed, you’ll never be able to enjoy the sun again, feel its warmth. You finally truly understand why Astarion had been so adamant about ascending, the temptation to do the same is strong.

Suddenly, a new scent floods your nose.

“Who’s there?” You call, glaring in the direction of the scent. Astarion steps into view, smiling a little too widely — a sign that he was nervous.

“You’re awake, darling. That’s good.” He moves to sit on your bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve just been turned into a vampire spawn?” He flinches at your words and you wish you could take them back.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Astarion quietly looks down, fidgeting. The silence between the two of you isn’t the comfortable kind, the tension in the air waiting for one of you to cut it so you decide to take the initiative.

“What’s it like, being a vampire spawn. Is there anything I have to take note of?”

“It’s…something that takes time to get used to.” Astarion murmurs.

“Well, good thing I have you to guide me, don’t I?” You smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. Both your hands are cold now, freezing to the touch, reminding Astarion of one more thing he has lost to Cazador.

“Even when permanently dead he still haunts me,” Astarion mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. “How badly did he scar you?”

The concern in his ruby red eyes is genuine, a softness you’ve missed filling the crimson orbs. You turn around despite everything in your body screaming at you not to, feeling yourself shake as you slip your top off, flashes of memories you’d rather keep buried burning through your mind. Astarion suppresses the angry growl that threatens to spill from his throat, hatred for Cazador burning once more and wishes he could drag the vampire lord from wherever dead vampires went just so he could make Cazador pay with pain a million times worse than yours.

You swallow as bile rises to your throat, the overwhelming scent of your blood filling your nose, screams of pain flooding your mind, then the scent you’ve saved as Astarion’s fills your nose as he wraps his arms around you, whispers of love falling from his lips.

“It’s alright darling, I’ve got you. I promise you’re safe. Focus on my voice, breathe together with me.” He whispers into your ear. “In…out…in…out…”

Through the haze, you struggle to regain control of your body, tears blurring your vision once more but with Astarion’s help, you find a breathing rhythm and grasp tightly onto it.

In, out. In, out.

When the room shifts back into focus, you realise that the scent of your blood wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. Long claw marks decorate your arms, your clawed fingertips stained crimson while the sheets beneath soak up whatever has dripped onto it.

“Shit, I’m a mess,” you whimper.

“Everyone is,” Astarion reassures you, pulling a bottle out. “Here, you’ll need to drink this. All of it. Don’t leave a single drop.”

The sweet scent of blood fills the air as he uncorks the bottle and your hunger growls, eager to lap it all up but you push his hand and the bottle away. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Astarion scowls. “I’m not going to let you starve yourself to death, trust me, you do not want to be starving as a vampire. It’s worse than death.”

“I don’t want to drink another person’s blood,” you croak weakly. The very thought of doing so makes you want to vomit, but your body says otherwise.

“It’s bear blood. I went out to hunt and came across a bear,” Astarion swirls the bottle. “I promise I’m not lying.”

You cautiously take the bottle from him, lifting it up to your lips. You have to trust him on this, it’s not like you know how bear blood smells like as a vampire. Locking gazes with him, you tilt the bottle, letting the sweet liquid wash down your throat. Strange new flavours burst in your mouth but it’s a pleasant taste and sends a tingle down your spine. Soon, you’re greedily sucking the bottle dry until there is not a drop left.

“There, not so bad, is it?” Astarion leans in to give you a peck on your cheek. “Now, your instincts should help but this is the best place to drink from on a wrist.”

He points to a spot on his wrist and lifts it up to your lips, “give it a try.”

You eye him warily and he sighs at your reluctance, “I can’t keep giving you bottles of blood to drink from, love. You’re going to need to learn how to feed yourself.”

“But I don’t want to,” you mumble. Astarion frowns but doesn’t push the matter further, instead he reaches for the medical kit Halsin has left behind and starts to clean up the dried blood on your arms. You let him, silently watching as the cloth starts to turn brown.

“There, all beautiful and blemish-free again,” he presses kisses along the length of both your arms, tossing the cloth aside. “Being…this doesn’t change anything about you, love. You’re still the same person, and that is more than enough for me.”

He cups your cheeks, letting his thumbs run over the skin of your cheeks. Leaning in, he presses his forehead against yours and feels you wrap your arms around him. With a small smile, he pulls you in, feeling your head rest on his shoulder as he embraces you tightly, breathing in your new scent. One of his hands gently rests on the back of your head, fingers running through your matted hair.

“You’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you, right by your side whenever you need me. That I promise. I won’t let you go through what I went through, I won’t let you be alone in this.” He swears, holding you tightly. “We’ll face this together, side by side.”

You clutch desperately at his tunic, crying for what feels like the millionth time today into his chest and he lets you, ignoring the way your tears dampen and stain his clothes. Instead, he curls around you, wishing he could shield you from the world and the suffering he knows is to come and cherishes the way you cling onto him, the way you so clearly trust him with everything you have. No one had ever bared their soul like this to him, even all his prey had always kept a thing or two from him, no matter how sweet the lies he used to ensnare them.

You were different. You had let your walls down around him, bared your sweet neck at him, let him drink the first night he had tried drinking your blood instead of staking him on the spot and in return he had fallen for you. He let you have his back, let you into the shattered pieces he called his heart and let you see his broken self, hoping it wouldn’t scare you off and it hadn’t. Now you were the broken one and you had let him see it all, returning the favour was only natural but it wasn’t the only reaosn he was doing all this. He wanted to help you without needing anything in return, he wanted to see you smile again, he wanted to…he wanted to show you how much he truly loved you.

He had changed, that much he knew. It wasn’t long ago when he’d have chosen to ascend no matter the cost, but that night when he had seen you bound by glyphs with Infernal being carved into your back, all he could think about was how if he ascended you would be sacrificed too. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, he couldn’t sacrifice you no matter what he would gain in return.

He wouldn’t have needed to consider that if you hadn’t been turned into a vampire spawn.

Years of self-hatred gnaw away at him, reminding him of his failure, hisweakness that had led to this whole mess. If only he had been stronger, faster, better, then maybe you wouldn’t have to suffer his fate, the fate of a vampire spawn. His thoughts tear into him again and again, berating him, a whirling wind of destruction that threaten to unravel him. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, fighting the darkness that threatens to drown him. He doesn’t have time for this, he has to help you adjust, to be there whenever you’re drowning and he can’t do that if he’s wallowing in self-deprecation. Those damned thoughts can wait another day.

A quick glance down lets him know you’ve fallen asleep in his arms, worn out from recent events and he lets out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I meant everything I said, my love,” he says, knowing you can’t hear his words but that’s fine by him. He doesn’t want you to hear his next words anyways. “I love you.”