#which isn’t true obviously but that’s what how he sees it

[hikaruchen]

Reading this blog and procrastinating what I should’ve been doing at the moment, but it’s super helpful if you want to know more about the Anglo-Saxon and Viking material culture but don’t want to be bored to hell. All articles are done by an archaeologist specializing in mortuary archaeology, and he has already written several ones about burials and pagan practices during that time through the lens of The Last Kingdom. I’ve linked one of his posts before on ao3 when discussing about the historical accuracy of Alfred’s tomb effigy in the show under the pic Prayer from the Pagan, but didn’t really had the time to check others out. I just did it and find his other articles are actually super interesting to read as well.

For instance, back when I post this pic in January I said the colour palette was inspired by the Alfred jewel, but I completely forgot that it actually appeared in the show (2x04) where Alfred handed it to Æthelwold and said “Take this. It is a symbol of my kingship. Bear it with authority.”, which might be partially true but is hilarious if you give it another thought.

Because, why, in God’s name, would Alfred hand an ARTEFACT version of the piece he commissioned himself to his nephew? As Prof. Williams already stated (in this post), the Alfred jewel has long been assumed to be the handle part of a pointer stick for following words when reading a book, and if you look at the artefact itself it is quite clear that there’s a part that’s been missing as well. The reason why scholars think it has something to do with Alfred is because:

1) It’s written. The text on the frame literally says that “ÆLFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN”, which means “Alfred ordered me made”. The more detailed explanation below (with the help of beloved wikitionary since I don’t understand Old English at all)

ÆLFRED (subject) Alfred, obviously MEC (object) me; accusative of iċ (I), but in the West Saxon dialect it’s actually an uncommon version of iċ’s accusative and is more often seen in the Anglian dialect. The frequently-used version for West Saxons is mē HEHT (verb) ordered; third-singular past tense for hātan (to call; to order etc.), often followed with infinitive verbs, cognate with heißen in German GEWYRCAN (verb) to make; I honestly don’t know if “to make” and “to be made” is just the same word in OE help And since the word order in OE is random as hell thanks to the case system (much like German which I eventually gave up learning because I don’t have a brain big enough for that. IT MAKES NO SENSE TO A NATIVE MANDARIN SPEAKER THANK YOU), it is eventually translated into “Alfred ordered me to be made”.

2) It was discovered in Somerset and has been dated to the late 9th century, and we all know what Somerset meant to Alfred

3) Alfred did say he would send a copy of his translation of Gregory the Great’s Pastoral Care to every episcopal see in his kingdom in the preface to it, with the book accompanied “an æstel of 50 mancuses”. Mancus was a term to denote a gold coin or a unit for coins worth about a month’s wage for a skilled worker, such as a craftsman or a soldier. Whatever that æstel is it must be worth hell LOTS of money

But honestly while I do think this interpretation sounds very much plausible I’m thinking about other possibilities as well - how many Alfreds exactly existed during his time? We know that Æthel in OE means noble, so people bearing this prefix in their names were usually royal members or at least aristocrats, but what about Alfred? Was Alfred a popular name? Or was it unique enough that he could just go by this name without mentioning his title at all? Imagine if it were an Æthelred who made this, who the hell would know which one of these it was referring to, Æthelred the King, Æthelred the Ealdorman, Æthelred Ealhswith’s father, or even Æthelred the fucking Archbishop??? And yeah, I know Alfred was the king ™ here and there isn’t really much space left on the frame after all, but surely it wouldn’t cost a bone to add a cyning behind his name, right?

Sadly, as it was in the pre-Domesday-Book era, I can’t find the statistics of Anglo-Saxon names at that time (but keep in mind that there were at least 19 Alfreds worthy enough to be mentioned in Domesday Book even after the conquest. I don’t know if this says anything at all but I do want to mention it) What I’m trying to say is while it is highly highly highly likely (and I do believe and want to believe in this theory!), we cannot be one hundred percent certain that this jewel was really from the Alfred we’re talking about. And even if it was, it apparently wouldn’t be carried around by Alfred like THAT. Because that would be like, “Bear this with authority! Even though the symbol of my kingship is broken!”, said Alfred to a king wannabe. Lol.

The other thing I want to mention is this post about the show’s use of Fuller brooch, the one Alfred wore in S2 when he was in his war gear.

First of all, it is indeed dated to late 9th century and is assumed by scholars to be made by metalworkers of Alfred’s court. Everything is fine except I don’t think you would want to wear jewelry that luxurious to war…but then there’s this thing:

MEET GIANT FULLERS!

Well, can’t blame them since I am basically doing the same thing with my drawings (i.e. using patterns on jewelry and illustrations from manuscripts for embroidery design). But it’s worth noting that designs that are suitable for one art form doesn’t mean they can be applied to another well, and that’s why I claim my art is inspired by Anglo-Saxon art but NOT historical accurate for the Anglo-Saxon period. The reason I still do this and think it is understandable for TLK crew to do so is because we simply don’t have that many resources to reference from when it comes to this time period, and fabrics and wooden buildings are just extremely hard to preserve by nature. Instead of screwing up the design on your own, it just has more fun to add real historical elements into your work. Look at those easter eggs!

Ok, that’s it. I hope you enjoy my long rant and have a good read from Prof. Williams’s works!

[existingonthisplane]

Been thinking about Will’s painting lately

Been thinking about if he had never given it to him

If Mike had found it in the trash

If Mike would’ve read too far into it and thought it meant Will didn’t like dnd or the party or him anymore

If Mike would’ve confronted him

How would that go?

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[lovelybucky1]

Ok! I don't know if you can write about a wolverine who is obsessed with an older student at mansion x, what's the surprise? That she has a daddy kink with him because he has daddy issues-.

Professor!logan x student!fem!reader w daddy kink pleaaaaseee (Obviously reader is of legal age but there is Age gap between she and logan, and of course, smut!)

Cliché (Logan Howlett x Reader)

Logan isn’t a teacher by any means. He doesn’t have a lot of patience and prefers just to do rather than show people how it’s done. Xavier didn’t really give him a choice to be a teacher or not. He led Logan into a classroom full of students one day and told him to have at it. Logan wasn’t pleased with Charles, but he managed to improvise well enough. He’s been teaching since then, and while it is more bearable than he thought it would be, he still isn’t a fan. That is, until you showed up in class.

You caught his eye immediately. He could justify it to himself more if you were playing the part of the slutty student wearing short skirts and dropping your pencil so that you could give him a flash of your tits when you bent down. But you weren’t doing any of that. You were just a normal student, taking notes, listening intently, and raising your hand when you knew the answer. You weren’t trying to tempt him into anything, and Logan was a creep for wishing that you were. 

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and for the most part, he was successful. He was able to compartmentalize well enough to be an effective teacher and not sport a half-chub in the middle of every class. He thought he had finally gotten over his stupid crush that he was way too old to be having, but then you had asked him for extra help.

Like the beginning of every student-teacher porno, you came to his “office hours”, which really meant you knocked on his bedroom door late one night. You were having trouble understanding whatever dull topic Logan was teaching that week, which was unusual for you because you study frequently. You asked him to explain and he did, walking you through it to the best of his ability. Logan was suspicious because the topic wasn’t difficult to understand, and you’re a smart girl. 

After fifteen minutes of you nodding along to his explanation and occasionally biting your lip, Logan called you out. 

“You don’t really need help understanding this, do you?”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“Yes I do,” you respond hurriedly. “I told you, I was a little confused by all of the information.”

Logan shook his head. “We’ve gone over topics much more difficult than this and you had no problem. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Logan couldn’t help but wonder if his inappropriate fantasies were coming true. It had all the cliches: office hours, a smart girl playing dumb, a half-assed excuse to be close to him. He can hear your heart beating quickly, and when he sniffs the air, he can smell a musky tang of arousal.

He turns to face you, and suddenly you’re unable to meet his eyes. You’re looking down at where you’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Nervous, embarrassed. Gently, he places his hand under your chin and tilts your head up. You timidly look at him, eyes searching his for any signs of anger.

“What’re you doin’ here, dollface?” he asks.

He’s hoping, praying, that you don’t say what he so badly wants you to say. 

“I just… wanted to see you,” you respond. You know it makes you sound crazy, but you can’t think of any other explanation that isn’t entirely inappropriate. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel compelled to word-vomit. “I wanted your attention and this was the only way I knew how to get it and I’m so sorry, I know this is so inappropriate. Please just forget about this and I’ll drop your class-”

Logan shushes you. “You wanted my attention?” he asks. You nod hesitantly. “What for?”

You shrug, but Logan doesn’t take that for an answer. “I’m attracted to you.” 

You wince as you rip off the band-aid, and you’re so scared to see your professor’s reaction. He should yell at you, call you all sorts of names for your disgusting fantasies, kick you out of the room and have you expelled. But he doesn’t.

“That right?” Logan asks with a smirk. “You’re all worried just ‘cause you have a little crush?” Maybe it’s mean to tease you, especially when you’re looking at him like you’re about to cry, but he can’t help it. “You know I’m too old for you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not too old for me.”

Logan hums. “Then you’re too young for me.”

“I’m an adult,” you pout. “I’m not too young.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs. “I’m your teacher. I’m old enough to be your father.” Logan takes note of how your eyes sparkle at that. “You like me because I’m old enough to be your father.”

You look away shyly, and that gives Logan all the confirmation he needs. 

“Y’know, ever since I met you, I’ve been trying not to think about how much I want to bend you over one of those desks. It made me feel so fuckin’ guilty for thinking about you like that, but this whole time, you’ve been sittin’ in my class, thinking about me being your daddy.”

Your eyes widen at his words. When you devised this little plan and walked in here, you thought you would chicken out, much less have it lead anywhere. 

“I have been thinking about that,” you say.

“I’d be real sweet to ya, baby. Give you everything you’ve been wanting.”

The two of you are crossing so many lines, but neither of you seem to care anymore. He’s wanted you for weeks and as morally upstanding as he tries to be, he is still just a man.

“I want it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hands are on your hips, grabbing at your skin possessively as he smashes his lips against yours. He dominates the kiss, but you don’t mind the pinch of your lips between his teeth. It’s messy and wet and everything you’ve been dreaming of while you watch him in class. 

Your back hits the door and Logan keeps you pinned against the surface. You’re helpless to do anything but take what he gives you; his large body covering you entirely. His hands find their way under your ass and he tells you to jump. He holds you up with ease as you wrap your legs around his waist. He grinds against you, your little scrap of lace panties rubbing the bulge in his jeans. He’s thankful that you decided to wear a dress because the idea of fumbling with more than one pair of pants right now pisses him off. 

He manages to get his pants undone and pushed low enough to free his cock. Your panties get pulled to the side and his fingers slot themselves inside of you to work you open. Your face is buried in Logan’s neck, where you muffle all of your whines and moans. You’re certain that anyone out in the hall would be able to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If anything, Logan would be the one to get in trouble for sleeping with a student. You’d just be an innocent victim.

“Daddy,” you moan when he rubs that spot deep inside of you. 

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” he coos.

He continues to open you up on his fingers until he deems you loose enough to take him. When he pulls out his fingers, he wipes them on his thigh before grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch.

You both groan simultaneously as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and your pussy feels like heaven around his aching cock. You’ve both been craving this taboo relationship for so long and now that it’s finally real, it’s making your head spin.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Logan growls against your neck as he begins to rut into you.

His gruff voice, casual display of strength, and the feeling of him inside you work together to light your body on fire. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you attempt to stifle your moans. 

“Logan,” you gasp after a particularly hard thrust.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that and this won’t last much longer,” he tells you.

The thought that you doing something so simple as moaning his name could bring him to the edge boggles your mind. The Wolverine coming undone for some girl, a student, no less. You find yourself on a bit of a power trip, knowing what you’re doing to him. It’s only fair because he’s been torturing you for weeks without even knowing it.

You reach down between your bodies to rub at your clit. It’s sensitive from neglect, but as soon as you make contact with it, that coil in your belly starts to tighten. Hot waves of pleasure roll over your body as Logan drives his cock into you. Each bump of your g-spot causes a moan to escape from your mouth and he responds with groans of his own. 

“Logan, Logan,” you pant. “Daddy! I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Logan’s teeth find your neck. He bites at the skin under your ear and in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’ll leave a mark.

“Cum for me, princess. Gush all over my dick,” he mumbles against your skin.

You do exactly that. A few moments later, you’re clenching around his length as you rub tight circles over your clit. A moan rips from your throat as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks- or a ton of feathers, they weigh the same.

Logan staves off his orgasm long enough for you to ride out yours. Once you come down, he pulls out of you and jerks himself off to completion. Hot, thick ropes of cum paint your stomach and you watch in awe as the muscles in his arm move with the action.

You both stand there, your back against the door, as you catch your breath. You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes; your mind hazy with the remnants of your pleasure.

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

“Nothin’ to thank me for, dollface,” he says.

Logan bends down to scoop you into his arms. He walks you the few feet over to his bed and lays you down gently before grabbing some tissues to clean you off. You tell him you could’ve walked, but he shushes you and replies “Let me take care of you.”

You do, and it feels like the closest to heaven you’ve ever been. The man of your dreams just fucked you stupid and is now coddling you in his bed. What could be better than this?

Logan rids himself of the rest of his clothes and joins you on the bed. He slings an arm over your waist and pulls your back flush to his chest so he can spoon you. He tucks your shoulder under his chin and presses a kiss to your neck, close to the spot he sunk his teeth into earlier. 

“Does this mean I get extra credit, professor?” you ask, giggling.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. You still gotta do your homework.”

[calmlb]

It’s been clear that the Tanizakis aren’t siblings from the very beginning

here’s some evidence now that it’s been confirmed canon…

everyone who’s read irl Tanizaki’s book knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

BUT just because the Tanizakis aren’t siblings doesn’t mean you can’t feel uncomfortable about them. if you feel uncomfortable, GOOD. that’s exactly what they want

the Tanizakis, Mori— they all use these disturbing ruses to disarm or distract people in order to protect themselves, or to accomplish their goals. this is a writing device that asagiri commonly employs as a way to parallel the irl literature (it’s actually ingenious)

there are 4 main indicators that have always made it clear to me that Junichiro & Naomi are not siblings:

1. most obviously— their character designs. Harukawa is extremely intentional with character designs, & she very intentionally made Naomi & Junichiro look nothing alike

their eye shapes are purposely different

their color palettes are contrasting

even their differing styles of clothing have meaning

this was all done so that the audience could PLAINLY see that they’re not related— so that WE know that they’re lying when they say they ARE related

2. how the people around them respond to their act.

the general reaction is “don’t question it”— which is exactly what they want. “be distracted by how uncomfortable you feel so that you look away from what we’re hiding” (this is likely a protective measure)

3. most importantly, this is meant to parallel irl Tanizaki’s book “Naomi,” where the main character Joji picks up Naomi to raise her into his ideal woman, but since she's so young (& a minor) they call each other cousins (Joji makes no sexual advances on young Naomi btw)

however, his plan backfires because when Naomi gets older & they get married, she flips the script on him & manipulates HIM so that he's under her thumb (which is why bsd Tanizaki is at a domineering Naomi's mercy). Joji let her have her way because of his masochistic tendencies

4. lastly is the emphasis that Asagiri and the Tanizakis themselves put on calling each other siblings.

over & over, it’s “my brother this” & “my sister that”

like they’re desperately trying to convince us that it’s true (“don’t let your lying eyes deceive you”)

here are just a few of many examples from the light novels…

again, if you’ve read “Naomi” you knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

just like if you’ve read irl Mori’s works, it’s clear that bsd Mori isn’t a pedophile

just like if you’ve read No Longer Human you know that Dazai’s an unreliable narrator. he makes you think he’s a bad person bc he believes he’s a bad person, but those around him see him differently (btw this doesn’t mean he’s never done anything “bad,” though bsd isn’t about morality— but that’s another discussion)

anyway, i’m so excited for the Tanizakis backstory to be revealed so that we can better understand why they use this defense!!

also let this be a reminder to READ THE LITERATURE if you’re able to!! even reading synopses & analyses of the coordinating books makes bsd make much more sense 🥹

reminder that this how you’re supposed to react while reading bsd:

also, if you’re interested in a post explaining how Mori isn’t a pedo, i wrote this analysis on twt. OR you can read this document that one of my moots sent me (remember: analyzing a character does NOT mean you condone any actions they may or may not commit!)

[lady-griffin]

Jinx's Hallucinations + Ekko

Before Act III drops, I wanted to talk about an aspect of Timebomb that I'm quite fascinated by -

Ekko isn’t a trigger for Jinx’s hallucinations.

He has even stopped her hallucinations – not intentionally or anything, but more than once Ekko's presence seems to have a nullifying impact on Jinx.

Which is odd, right?

One would assume due to their history Ekko would be just as triggering to Jinx as anyone else, if not more so, and yet the opposite seems to be true.

In Jinx's first reunion with Vi, she quickly becomes overwhelmed and has an episode due to a whole combination of factors, but notably because her hallucinations of Mylo and Claggor start attacking her, largely because she's starting to breakdown and is getting overwhelmed (a self-perpetuating cycle).

Jinx can't even begin to calm herself down, in fact she yells at everyone to shut up, because she needs to think.

Then she hears Ekko’s hoverboard and suddenly the hallucinations are completely gone.

Jinx isn’t sure if what she heard was real or not.

Which is a great detail, since it indicates Jinx is aware that the voices she hears aren’t “real," meaning she knows other people can’t hear them too. So, it's rather telling (at least for me) that she asks Vi to confirm if she too heard the hoverboard sound.

It's also impressive Jinx was able to instantly recognize the sound of Ekko's hoverboard, despite her being in the midst of a mental breakdown and unable to think properly.

It’s almost like Jinx’s brain went into fight mode or something, because seemingly all the hallucinations stopped at once because there’s now a much bigger threat Jinx needs to be on guard for – Ekko is heading her way.

I really can't emphasize how much I love that.

While not traditionally romantic, in any sense, this shows the amount of respect Jinx has towards Ekko and the threat he poses to her. He’s someone she actually has to take seriously when fighting.

Which is a bit unique for Jinx.

Throughout S1 we saw Jinx being far more scared of her hallucinations then actual real, physical threats, but in this moment it’s like her brain recognized Ekko as being the far greater threat than her hallucinations.

Which he is - but that’s also true for many of the other things Jinx faces and isn’t scared of.

Jinx does “glitch out” while fighting Ekko and the Firelights in “When These Walls Come Tumbling Down,” - but it’s more of an asset than a problem, as she easily dodges the Gorilla Mask Firelight (at least I think it’s a gorilla).

Then when Ekko disappears, Jinx's psychoses come rushing back; obviously, this has less to do with Ekko himself and everything to do with him taking Vi, but nonetheless, it's still a slight repetition of the pattern that keeps happening between them.

In "The Boy Savior," during Jinx's bridge fight with Ekko, she once again specifically doesn't experience any hallucinations; even though she was just experiencing them not too long ago.

Mylo was this 'demon' on her back that while she could initially argue against, the more upset she became, the bigger his presence was.

She saw Caitlyn as this devil figure, laughing and mocking her and her psychoses even blocked Vi almost entirely from her sight; whether literally or symbolically, Jinx clearly wasn’t fully aware she was shooting at Vi, despite her obviously seeing Vi and then shooting in her direction.

Then Ekko bursts onto the scene and suddenly no more hallucinations. Which is just...

I honestly don’t know what this is. I really don’t.

To be clear, I absolutely love this whole thing despite not knowing what it is exactly, because honestly, I'm just fascinated by this dynamic, because for whatever reason, Jinx isn't triggered by Ekko nor does she hallucinate him.

In S2, Jinx’s hallucinations have significantly decreased, but in “Paint the Town Blue," she's suddenly bombarded with pretty much everyone’s voices because she’s beyond upset and panicking about Isha being taken by the enforcers.

She sees pretty much everyone - Silco, Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Sevika, and Isha.

Jinx seeing Vi, Sevika, and Isha shows us that she can/does hallucinate people who she knows are alive.

In addition, Isha being one of her hallucinations shows us that Jinx doesn’t need to have negative or even complicated feelings towards someone for them to become a part of her psychoses, as Jinx largely thinks/feels positively towards Isha.

Though it should be noted, the hallucination of Isha isn’t acting aggressive towards Jinx, not like the others are.

Finally, Ekko or Vander are the only two she doesn't hallucinate, but we know Jinx has hallucinated Vander in the past, making Ekko the odd one out when it comes to Jinx's hallucinations once again.

Which for the millionth is absolutely fascinating to me.

Because why?

Why doesn't Ekko trigger Jinx? Why isn't he one of her hallucinations? How come he's the only one we've seen having the ability to stop Jinx's hallucinations altogether (even if it's completely unintentional)?

For whatever reason, Jinx’s mind has seemingly categorized Ekko as being different than everyone else and while it’s obviously not this big thing the show brings your attention to, it’s also clearly there, albeit subtly.

And yeah...

I don’t really have much more to say, I just wanted to talk about this interesting aspect of Timebomb before we get to the last and final arc of Arcane.

[lustlovehart]

Dang over 700, that’s impressive congrats!

If you still have requests open, maybe we can see/hear more about Sebek? I love the idea of him as a swamp monster tsundere dumping flowers on MH! Reader and find him fun~

Summary: Humans are pests. They’re the reason Malleus has fallen from grace, and why Lilia is no longer in his prime. He hates you, and everything your job stands for. He hates the way you’re not like them. He hates how you’re too kind. He wants to hate you, yet he can’t at all.

Warnings: Tiny bit of Tsundere Sebek, He thinks about 💀 you (he changes his mind dw guys!!), Mentions of his monster crimes, Little tiny hint of obsession, Implied human eating, Sebek sketch at end!

Your feet are dipped into the water, ripples cascading off where the limbs land, tranquil and cold, the shadows of the trees just further enriching the experience.

The one thing that isn’t relaxing about the water however, may as well be the guardian of the swamp, who’s practically breathing down your neck.

“Well human? Have you had your fill of this sacred marsh? I will not have you linger here longer than necessary! I only allowed you in to show the true essence of beings like us.”

Despite what leaves his mouth, you have a striking feeling that he won’t throw you out.

Because, that’s the fourth time he’s said that, and he’s yet to drag you out.

Through the close proximity, you place your palm on his face, softly pushing him away in your annoyance, yet like a magnet, he attracts himself right back to you, finding his place in the area to be right by your side.

“I’ve drowned many of your kind, don’t push me away so carelessly…!”

“Have you drowned me yet?” He stutters for a moment, racking his brain to find a suitable excuse as to why that is. He stops when you lean back on the grass, looking up at the sky as you lay down.

But to your dismay, he finds one.

“My liege wants you alive, so we must do what he wants.”

“You want the best for him right? What if the best for him is getting rid of me?” You’ve once again stopped any retort on his tongue, your eyes fluttering shut. Your feet continues to dangle in his waters, breath steadying as you let the sound of dew drops falling into the marsh invade your ears.

In your slumber, you don’t notice the way Sebeks scaley face is centimeters away from yours, trembling inhales. You’re right. Getting rid of humans is the best for his liege, for… all monsters really.

His clawed hand reaches up towards your throat, his nails scratching a line in your skin. Webbed fingers tremble, he could, he really could…

He could help everyone.

…

His hand falls, his forehead falling onto yours. His skin is rough, but he takes care in placing his head softly on yours to not wake you up. His palm follows in suit, laying itself on your throat, cold blood feeling the warmth of your mortal body.

And your heart. He remembers reading about human hearts, how they’re important to they’re bodily functions. Without it, you’d die. It’d be easier than killing you himself. He doesn't know which is better, for himself. He could take pride knowing he rid the world of one more wretched monster hunter, or he could rest in comfort knowing you passed in peace.

Sebek doesn’t notice the way the plants have emerged from the water, taking hold of your legs. There’s a particular branch that caresses your face in a certain manner, one completely inappropriate for a human. His mouth hangs up, immediately ripping the wood from your flesh. He throws the twig away, his head turning when your visibly stir at the motion.

He’s not well versed in human care. He's read about it, but obviously he’s never acted upon it! His hands fumble, if he’s correct, one of the quickest ways to knock a human out is to hit them really hard…! But… He doesn’t wanna do that—

Ah, you’re asleep again.

Sebek carefully lifts himself from your body, water dripping onto the grass from his hair. He slowly backs himself into the water, the only part visible being his head, before entirely disappearing into the murky water.

He realizes something in the comfort of his pond.

He… He wouldn’t need to kill you if you just… never left. Neither would you ever disturb the peace of any other beasts.

Under that water, he ties a knot, petals floating above the marsh at his bouquet. As well as a hand, that drops deep down. A coworker of yours. He’s unsure why you’re the only one he’s not too keen on consuming, yet he can so easily do it to those you know.

It doesn’t matter. They’re the same. Taste the same too.

…

You awake to a lonely sight, Sebek gone from the scene. Though, your chest feels heavier than usual. You look down, and an array of different plants and greenery fill your vision. It’s wrapped in flimsy wood bark, moss tying the piece together.

There’s a note hastily inscribed.

Human, leave soon.

Even without reading the message you know it’s Sebek. You assume it’s from his human hatred he writes such mean words.

In truth, that’s part of it. You’ll never know the other is him not wanting to see the corpses at the bottom of his home. Or maybe you will. Especially when you notice a shiny pendant gifted inside the flowers. Assuming it to be a sweet gesture from Sebek you smile at it. Such a happiness slowly fades when you feel a certain familiarity with the necklace.

… You feel like you’ve seen this before.

[little-forest-goblin]

Soft touches, silent roads

Warnings: Smut MDNI 18+

Contains: oral (f and m receiving), p in v, dirty talk, light choking (very brief) praise, mostly soft dom five (There is a little roughness), face fucking, cum eating, creampie (i hate the word too), car sex, bad writing, grammatical errors

Synopsis: You and five were at graces birthday party. You and him haven’t seen each other in a long time so there is a lot of unspoken things between you and him especially the unspoken love and desire between you and him that was never addressed properly. (The events of the fourth season never occurred)

The birthday party was all out which was really sweet of Diego and Lila. The kids were having so much fun which was even sweeter. Lila’s family was very kind too. It was odd seeing the family after a long while. Especially poor Klaus who was a raging germaphobe and extremely sober. which the sober part isn’t a bad thing but the germaphobic tendencies is a little bit odd. No matter you’re just glad he is getting himself mostly together. Luther was what he called “A professional dancer” which obviously was not true but you know what…good for him. There was Allison worried and scared that everybody hated her. Viktor was kinda off to the side since he didn’t really want anything to do with any of us which you guess kinda makes sense after the shit we’ve been through. you cant blame him completely for not wanting anything to do with us but its nice to know he cares still to show up. Ben was sulking about just getting out of jail and about his “Business”. You really just hope he will get his shit together. Then lo and behold there was five. The one man you were nervous to talk to. The one that made your heart race and your face flush. You haven’t spoken to him in a long time. Life caught up to you, you were healing from trauma and getting your own shit together. That being said he was always on your mind no matter how hard you tried to push him or the thoughts away. It was always a haunting thought in the back of your mind. A space just for him that was rent free. You looked over to him and to your surprise you caught him looking at you. His own eyes went a little wide with nervousness and looked away sipping his beer and looked back into the ball-pit where luther tried to scare him and ben. You felt your face flush and you looked away.

After a ruined back and a piñata issue it was time for everyone to go home. Sadly your car was being the biggest asshole of the day cause it decided to break down the day before. You had to take a uber which was scary at this time of night. You walked out the doors and leaned against the wall of the building. You went onto your phone to look for an uber when five came out he saw you and came on over “Hey” you looked to him your face flushing as you saw those piercing green eyes “H-hey” he chuckled and leaned against the wall his arms crossed “What are you doing? Aren’t you gonna head home?” you sighed and shut pff your phone putting it in your pocket “My car broke down yesterday. The hunk of junk had to be a paid actor cause that was to perfectly timed.” he smiled “So what gives?” you sighed “Im getting an uber. It may not be the safest but i need to go home somehow.” he nodded. it was silent for a minute as he looked at you his eyes traveling down then up at your face again trying to stay calm but if you looked close you’d notice he swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. “You can ride with me” you look at him wide eyed “Wait what?” he looked at your eyes “Yeah you can ride with me. I don’t want you getting hurt or worse.” you bit your lip nervously “no no its okay i-“ five cut you off before you could say anything else “No i insist come on” he took your hand and gently led you to his car almost seeming eager. Your hand in his, skin against skin sent electricity through you and a shiver down your spine. You almost wanted to kick yourself cause it was such a simple touch. How the hell are you getting so worked up over such a simple god damn touch! is…is he getting worked up too? Is he feeling the same? You let him lead you to his car. He opens the passenger side for you “After you, princess” he smiled you chuckled and got into the car “My, what a gentleman!” he laughed and closed the door and got into the driver seat.

You and him have been driving for some time. At some point during the night drive home it began to rain. You looked to him his hands gripping the steering wheel. it was almost white knuckled how hard he was holding it. You swallowed as your eyes traveled over the veins in his hands. they were prominent and an indicator of what hid under his suit. you looked to his face his eyes slightly squinted to look out the glass windshield past the rain and slight fogging. his lips and nose those piercing green eyes and hair that made your insides flutter. You always were weak when it came to this man. he glanced to you and back to the road. “Whats with that look for?” you blushed lightly and looked back out the window “nothing.” the rain started to come down harder and tension built until the glass fogged up to much and the rain poured a little to hard. “Fuck it” he pulled into an empty lot and parked the car. you looked at him confused “woah hey wha-“ he unbuckled and turned to you “Don’t say it isn’t nothing. I don’t want it to be nothing. I know it isn’t nothing.” you looked him in his eyes. his eyes looked a little desperate almost pleading. You wanted to say it you knew it wasn’t nothing but something in you still wanted to deny from fear of scaring him away “Five i-its nothing i’m being honest” he shook his head “Don’t say that…it isn’t. Me and you have always beat around the bush. When i’m with you i cant help it but to beat around the bush cause i’m afraid to lose you. I don’t want to scare you away but god damn it y/n i cant do it any longer. Y/n i love you. You are in my mind no matter how much i try to push it away. I cant pretend that i don’t love you cause i do. Y/n i love you and i was too afraid to say it but now i’m not. i’ve gotten my shit together for the most part and me beating around the bush is not something i wanna do anymore.” you looked at him incredulously. He just professed his love to you. after so long of lingering stares and touches that lasted a little too long all coming to a sorta close. you swallowed “Five i have also loved you…i’ve loved you even as i kept distance for 6 years i was in love with you as we danced at the wedding at the end of the world i was in love with you as we saved the world in the 60’s and i have loved you before. I was also too afraid to say it.” he looked at you with eyes that held love and adoration. His face came closer to yours both of you so close his breath fanned across your face you swallowed and kept eye contact with him. he looked from your lips to your eyes “Y/n?” you kept your eyes locked with his “Yeah?” “can i kiss you?” you felt your breath hitch “God yes” he didn’t need to be told twice. His lips were on yours kissing desperately. his hands came to either side of your face holding you close. your hands came around his neck one along his back and one traveled into his hair giving a slight tug making him groan. He lightly bit at your bottom lip and tugged gently. you whimpered softly and he growled at that lovely sound you made. his hands went from either side of your face and at the top of your arms feeling the skin under your sleeves. his lips traveled from your lips to your jaw and to your neck. his kissed almost reverently until he started to nibble and suck to create a dark purple love bite. you let out shuddering breath and you licked your bottom lip wetting it a little “f-five…fuck” he detached his lips looking up at you with a hint of concern “You okay? does it feel okay?” you nodded “Feels good…so good…” his eyes darkened and growled softly “Such a good girl made just for me” he kissed and sucked your skin. after some time “I need you now baby please. Let me have you” he looked up at you with a hint of pleading but there was room for you to say no and back away but thats not happening “Yes”

you and him had got into the back seat. he swallowed as he gently pulled your shirt over your head. he let out a breath ans he was speechless for a minute. you got a little worried and self conscious thinking maybe he was changing his mind. your hands where going to go around your body to cover but his hands where quick but gentle to pull your hands away “no…no, don’t cover…you’re gorgeous i wanna see you, love” you felt relief flood through your body. you let him guide your hands away from your body. his hands pulled you closer and held you to him and kissed the side of your neck as he undid your bra letting your tits loose from the prison you call a bra. he growled a little “Fuck look at you. perfect pretty girl. can i touch them baby?” you nodded and he shook his head his hand traveled to the back of your neck pulling you closer “Ah ah baby i gotta hear you say it okay? use your words for me, hm?” you swallowed nervousness and excitement coursing through you “Y-yes…please touch me” he hummed in appreciation “Good girl” his hands came away the back of your neck and to your tits squeezing and kneading softly feeling there shape. he leaned down and kissed the top of one of your breasts and bit down and sucked pulling the skin in to make a love bite, marking you as his own. You moaned and blushed deeply. he soon pulled off and let go of your tits his hand traveling around your neck “Lie back in the seat for me baby. i gotta have a taste of you” you nodded. your cunt was soaked through your panties you could feel it the wet patch there was probably noticeable. He traveled down kissing down the valley of your breasts to your stomach all the way to the waistband. His fingers curled around the waistband looking up at you for permission. you nodded and he wasted no time pulling it down revealing the pretty black pair you on. his chuckle was mixed with a light growl “Oh baby did you wear these just for me?” you and him both knew that this was not planned before hand so no but god damn it were you gonna entertain it “Y-yeah…wore them just for you” he hummed in appreciation and kissed your clothed clit making you jump a little “Knew you would. You’re such a good girl. always so sweet” you blushed and let out a shuddered breath. his fingers curled around the bottom of your panties and pulled them down off your legs and let them join the pile on the floor. he wet his bottom lip as he stared “O-oh baby…this is what you’ve hidden from me for far to long?” he kissed you clit reverently sending a shock of pleasure before he started to really get to it. his tongue licking at your slit and up to your clit. his lips wrapped around your clit and focused his tongue and attention there. you moaned and shivered. your hand traveling into his hair looking down at him only causing you to get more worked up. “o-oh fuck five god damn it” your head fell back as you panted. he chuckled sending another shock of electricity “That good baby?” you nodded. your thighs shook and threatened to close around his head. before they could his hands wrapped around them. keeping them opened “Ah ah baby keep them nice and open for me, good girl” he devoured you like you where the most delicious meal and you felt that cord within you tighten and threaten to snap. your moans came out louder and he knew you where close. his thumb came to your clit and rubbed gentle circles while his tongue focused on your slit. you felt your orgasm crash down on you and he licked away your cum with eagerness “mmm sweet tasting girl. perfect for me” he came up for air panting. his chin had your slick down it. he wiped away at it and leaned down to kiss you. his tongue and your taste together was divine. you moaned softly. you felt his hard cock through his pants. you pulled back “let me help you…please?” your hand traveled to palm him and he let out a stuttering breath “Only if you really want to baby.” you looked him in his eyes “i want too…please let me” he smiled and kissed you one more time and sat up and let you move to in front of him in the backseat.

you and him had moved the front seat chairs up so you and him could have room. He let out a shuddering breath as you unbuckled him from his cloth prison. once his boxers were pulled down and away his cock was up against his stomach your eyes widened a little in surprise cause he was bigger then you expected. i guess what the world didn’t give him in height gave in length. he chuckled “surprised?” you nodded a little more eagerly then you wanted it to be “Yeah… i am actually. im not say i was expecting it to be small i just thought you’d be average or something” he chuckled and his hand came to your head pulling your hair back into a makeshift ponytail “Doll, im hurt! uou had no faith in me?” five feigned hurt with a mock pout. you chuckled “im sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you” your lips went to his head. he groaned “Fuuuck, doll.” your tongue flattened and you took more of him. his hand was in your hair helping you bob your head. he groaned and his head rolled back “just like that baby mhm so good your taking me so good” you whined and looked up at him. he looked down at you and his cock twitched “Fuck baby you cant look at me like that i’ll blow my load to fast” you giggled a little till he pushed your head down more and groaned. he face fucked you bobbing your head for you. “Fuck just like that doll flatten that pretty fucking tongue!” he growled his eyes dark and his pupils blown wide. “Thats it take it like the good sweet girl you are. Good girl” he moaned and his head fell back against the seat. his balls tightened he came down your throat. you went wide eyed swallowing it down. he pulled out panting. he looked down at you his hands untangling from your hair and tucked your hair behind your ear and away from your face “You okay baby?” you nodded wiping away tears “Yeah i’m okay.” he smiled and helped you onto his lap and kissed you softly. “I was a little rough baby i’m sorry” his thumbs gently swiped away any remaining tears.

After he let you calm down and get together holding you closely you laid on the backseat. you and him had let the backseats down. you looked up at him as he shrugged off his suit and vest undoing his tie and throwing it to the pile. he sat back a little looking at your naked splayed out body. his hand pumped his cock a few times “Fuck sweetheart your gorgeous.” he crawled over you lining his cock with your waiting entrance. you swallowed. “Five…can you hold me while we do this? i wanna be close to you” he looked up at you and smiled. his arms went around your body. one around your waist the other around your shoulders. he kissed your neck and slowly pushed in “f-fuck baby your tight” he pushed all the way in. your breath seemed to stop for a minute your lips parted in a silent moan. he stayed still letting you get used to him “Its okay baby just breathe” thats when you remember to breath breathing in then out letting your body relax. once fully relaxed he started to move in then out slow and sweet thrusts wanting to savor you and the feel of your walls squeezing his cock. soft moans and shudders of breath came from both of you. “God i love you y/n its been to long of us dragging this out. I should’ve told you before” you shook your head you arms around him and his back “Its not just your fault- ah -i..i should’ve said something too” you and him moaned as the pace picked up a little but stayed mostly slow and sweet. your hearts beat in sync with each other just as it is should. your pants filled the car and his groans filled your ears. the windows of the car fogged up and the soft patter of the rain against the car gave a soft atmosphere. “Fuck baby i wish i could stay buried inside you forever” he let you go a little but stayed close his pace not stopping. he lifted on of your legs to his shoulder to get a deeper angel. the head of his cock kissing your g-spot perfectly causing your moans to come out louder. he felt your walls start to tighten around him indicating how close you where his thrusts went faster “Its okay baby i got you i got you cum for me…cum with me, fuck your such a good girl cum with me” his moans came out louder with yours. his hands found yours and held them intertwining you and his fingers. the cord within your stomach snapped and as soon as he felt your walls tighten his cock twitched and he came with you his cum pouring inside you filling you up. He groaned and slowed his pace going slow to fuck you through it but not to overstimulate you. you and him panted, a thin layer of sweat glistening on your bodies. he looked down at you and smiled softly moving some of the hair from your face that stuck to you away “You okay baby?” you nodded “yeah…yeah I’m okay…are you?” he smiled and chuckled “More then okay.” you looked up at him admiring him for all he was. he noticed your look and leaned down and kissed you softly and you happily kissed back. he pulled out of you causing you both to whimper a little. he pulled off looking at you “Come on lets get redressed. If you wanna we can come to my place and we can get cleaned up and relax the rest of the night” you smiled “i like that idea”

So both of you got redressed after he found some wet wipes to clean you up a little. you helped each other get redressed and soon drove home where you and him took a proper shower (Might’ve had a little round two in there) and relaxed for the rest of night laid in bed in one of his sweaters and watched a cheesy rom-com while cuddling under the sheets till you fall asleep.

———————————————————————

Hey there guys! i hope you like it! its my first time writing a smut. I was nervous writing this sorry for any grammatical errors or if it seemed rushed (i hope it doesn’t). I love you and stay safe y’all ❤️ 😘

[hs-is-loml]

You Know This. (cl16)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x best friend!Reader

Summary: moments of charles and reader throughout the years that show they are so obviously meant for each other so carlos gives them a small push. (they are basically together but without the title...)

Warnings: mentions of Jules and Hervé so little angst but the majority is fluff! one kiss? lando swears. cute couple moments of two idiots UNEDITED

a/n: almost forgot how to write compared to the social media AUs i've been doing... hope you enjoy :)

all translations of french below

Chérie = darling

masterlist

19 years old

You stared out the window overlooking the streets of Baku until you heard a sigh from across the room.

“I’m so tired. Is it even worth going through this weekend?” Charles admitted as you looked over to him running his hands over his face while he took a seat on the edge of the hotel bed. “I don’t know if I’ll make it through.”

“No one will blame you if you don’t,” you said walking over to stand in front of him. 

“That’s what they all expect isn’t it?” 

“You’re doing more than enough just being here,” you brought your hands to his face and gently rubbed your thumb along his jaw. 

“I miss him, Y/n. How am I supposed to continue without him?” he whispered while he wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you closer to lean his head against your stomach. 

You could tell that he had finally reached a breaking point from holding out on his own emotions as he helped everyone in the family with theirs. You knew that he was staying strong for Pascale and Arthur while Lorenzo was handling everything for Hervé’s funeral. When he asked you to accompany him for this race, you said yes without any doubts crossing your mind.   

You soon feel his shoulders shake as he lets out soft sobs. “You continue for him. Just like you have done for Jules, they’re going to watch your legacy grow together. One day you’ll be driving in that red car placing poles and winning races. You will make it through this,” you played with the hair at the nape of his neck as you reassured him.

You were aware that he had told Hervé a few weeks ago that he had signed with Ferrari already. In the past few years, it had always been the goal. Everyone understood how crucial it was for him to make that come true.

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I know, but I believe in you. We all do. It’s only a matter of time.”

“What would I do without you?” he lifted up his head to look at you.

“Well, it’s a good thing I never plan on leaving you,” you leaned down to press a gentle kiss on the crown of his head. 

"I'll never let you go."

20 years old

You were talking with Andrea and Lorenzo near the Alfa Romeo motorhome while you all waited for Charles to finish with media day. “How do you think he’s doing with the news?” you anxiously looked around in the hope of seeing him heading your way. “The media has gone wild when the contact got out that he signed with Ferrari.”

“Probably basking in the attention,” Lorenzo laughed. “You know how long he’s waited for this.”

“That boy never fails to catch the camera either,” Andrea added while you covered your mouth with your hand trying to stifle your laugh when you realized that Charles was finally done for the day. 

Charles came to your side snaking an arm around your waist and teasingly poked you, “What are you three laughing about you?” 

“You,” all of you replied, causing him to gasp in fake annoyance. 

“I know ma chérie would never do such a thing,” he shook his head at the two men. “Enzo, look how bad of an influence you are.” Which was Andrea’s queue to quietly leave before he was targeted by the young driver too. He took Lorenzo along with him as the older brother gaped at the accusation. 

You both started to head to his driver’s room to gather his things before driving back to the hotel. “How was it?” you asked him while you took out his phone from your purse.

“A lot. It feels like it’s never ending and everyone keeps congratulating,” he smiled and reached out for the phone. 

“I’ve only heard of all the good things so far,” you tell him and hand the phone back to him. 

You had begun to look for your jacket, and it was almost as if he had read your mind, “It’s right here, I’ve got it.”

As you two walked out of the paddock, there were still crowds of fans and photographers lingering around the area hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the drivers. People started to whisper and squeal when they saw Charles place his hat on your head allowing you to shield your face from the now flashing cameras. 

“Who is she?”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!”

“They must be dating.” 

“Charles! Over here!”

“Can you sign this for me please!”

You listened to all the hollers from the crowd as you got into the car, “Wow.”

“You okay?” Charles softly asked and glanced at you before starting to drive back to the hotel.

“Were they always like that while you were in F2 and I’ve never noticed?” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“I’m not sure,” he chuckled at your reaction. 

21 years old

“He has one more corner!” you held onto Andrea’s arm anxiously looking at the screen.

“MERCEDES THREW EVERYTHING AT HIM TODAY… CHARLES LECLERC HAS COPED BRILLIANTLY!” you heard from the speakers.

“HE’S GOT IT!” one of the crew members screamed when they saw Charles shoot down to the line.

“HE WINS IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA! CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2019 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!” David Croft announced as Charles crossed the finish line. He had just won in Monza in front of the infamous Tifosi. 

You felt yourself get pushed to the front of the barrier as people started rushing to see the winner. The momentous scene couldn’t have been better. He had just ended the nine-year winless streak in Monza and scored his second consecutive race win. All you could hear in the hectic moment was the Ferrari crew chanting out in Italian for Charles. The crowds of fans roared out in cheers and the stands filled with raised Ferrari and Italian flags. 

You will never forget the moment he jumped down from on top of his car and made his way over to you. His hands found your sides as you held the sides of his helmet. “You did it,” your smile wide and eyes filled with tears as you focused on him. 

“For them,” he told you tenderly.

“For them,” you repeated and placed a kiss right where you thought the corner of his mouth would have been. The crew reached over to congratulate him, and the cameras were pointed directly at him wanting to capture the moment. 

The podium ceremony was scintillating. The crew, media, and Tifosi all packed in to see their winner. Andrea knew to keep you close to the front knowing that Charles would want to see you more than anyone else. It wasn’t only you looking up at him in admiration though it seemed like the world stopped for a moment when he blew a kiss back down to you from the podium.

Your cheeks flushed from the action and beamed as you met his eyes, “I love you,” you mouthed to him hoping he could read your lips from the stand. 

“I love you,” he replied back.  

22 years old

With COVID delaying the F1 season and everyone having to quarantine. You and Charles had decided to move in together into his apartment to keep each other company. It wasn’t hard to fall into a routine for you two. 

“Y/n! Can you bring me water please?” you heard a yell from Charles’ gaming room.

You got up from the couch and set aside your book heading into the kitchen. Decided to bring him a small pack of crackers as well along with the water since he had been on stream for a while. You brought the plate to him which he thanked you for and gave your hand three small squeezes. 

The simple interaction caused the chat to make tons of new comments flow through regarding you. Over the past few years, you found yourself more comfortable with your life in front of the camera because of his career, and it makes you look back to the times of Charles’ first year in F1. You could now give a small wave to the camera before you planned to head back out to the door.

“That’s not fair,” you heard Lando complain from the screen, causing you to halt in your footsteps to listen closely. “You have Y/n to bring you stuff, and you don’t even need to stop the game.”

“Lando’s just jealous he doesn’t have anybody,” George snickered.

“Damn right, I am,” Lando huffed out. “I want a Y/n.”

Charles noticed you silently laughing and he motioned for you to come back over wanting to tease Lando a bit more. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to be in the frame, “Too bad there’s only one of her.”

Lando started muttering about how it was not his fault that he was alone during these times all while you shook your head at their antics. Alex and George continued the jokes creating a newfound argument that moved the topic away from you and Charles. “What do you want for dinner?” you questioned him softly not wanting to disrupt the chaotic banter from the others.

“Will you make carbonara?”

“DID YOU HEAR THAT??” Lando pointed to the screen baffled. “SHE EVEN COOKS DINNER FOR HIM! WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN? Y/N, WILL YOU COOK FOR ME NEXT TIME?”

“Sure, Lando. Once quarantine ends we can plan something out,” you replied with a sweet smile towards the camera.

“YES!” he cheered out at your response.

“Once we get back to racing, will you bring your cookies again?” George asked excitedly.

“Or the muffins!” Alex added on. 

“I’ll go and bring them if you bring Lily, Alex!” you answered them.

24 years old

You told Charles earlier in the week telling him that you couldn’t make it to the Bahrain Grand Prix due to work. Really you just wanted to surprise him, and you had been in contact with Carlos planning it out.

“I think he is getting suspicious of me,” Carlos told you over the phone as you got your bags together waiting for Carlos’ cousin to come and get you from the airport.

“Well, I’ve only sent him short messages for the past few days and maybe ignored a couple of his calls because I can’t keep lying to him…” you explained which caused the man on the other side of the phone to snicker at your dispense. 

“I swear you want him to kill me, Y/n. Once he finds out.”

“Find out what? Who are you talking to all the time, mate?” you listened to Charles continuously question Carlos.

"No one!" Carlos quipped.

"Is that Y/n?" Charles asked him.

"No, it's my sister..."

“Good luck!” you hung up the call quickly and got into the car with Carlos Oñoro.

“Charles found out?” he started heading to the hotel that the Ferrari team was staying at. 

“Hopefully not yet, but Carlos was talking about how he’s on to him already.”

A notification went off on your phone and you saw it was a text message from Carlos.

You opened your messages with Charles and came up with something quick to text him about.

at the circuit 

“Hermosa! You made it!” Carlos exclaimed when he saw you walking towards the group of the drivers that just got out of the media pen. "I swear he was going to choke me earlier."

You laughed at his remark and went over to his side to whisper to him, “He doesn’t know I’m here yet, right?”

He tugged you a bit closer and kept his hand on your upper back. He spoke into your ear in a hushed tone while carefully looking around, “Not a clue, but you remember what I said over text? You say he’s not your boyfriend yet, so let’s mess with him just a little. It’ll prove something to you.”

“Prove what-” 

You were cut off by Lando as he finally took notice of your presence, “Y/n! Tell me you brought them!”

“Yes, Lando,” you smiled, taking a small packaged bag of cookies out of your bag before you could even hand them to him. He had snatched it and already begun opening the bag. “Yours are back at the hotel,” you told Carlos who was trying to take one from Lando.

“GIVE ME ONE!” George yelled at Lando who took his chance and ran off with his cookies. 

“NO!” causing George to chase after the Mclaren driver. 

Another group of drivers came over as they had just finished with their interviews. You saw Charles talking with Sebastian but he didn’t see you yet. “Sweetheart! A pleasant surprise, Charles was just talking about how you couldn’t make it,” Sebastian said with a smile as he walked past you with Fernando. 

“Hello, Sebastian,” you smiled back and felt a breath near your ear. 

“How long do you think it will take him to drag you away?” Carlos said in a low voice.

“He wouldn’t,” you mutter back.

“Oh, yes he would. Good luck with him,” Carlos grinned as Charles had stormed over to you two and grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“Charlie!” you yelped as you tried to keep up with his pace towards the Ferrari’s motorhome and into his driver’s room. 

He shut the door behind him, “So you can text Carlos but not me?”

"What are you talking about?" you acted confused."

"I know you were on call with Carlos earlier. But you couldn't even answer mine this morning?"

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Charles,” you huffed out.

“What a surprise that you and Carlos are together now?” he scoffed at the mere thought.

You began to laugh aloud which caused him to frustrate even further, “E-ex-cuse me?” you said through your laughter.

“This is not funny, Y/n.”

“Charles, it’s funny you think that I would even do anything with Carlos in the first place,” you pointed out to him while setting your bag down on a chair. 

You heard his footsteps come closer to you until you felt him press against your back, “Are you not?”

You turned around to face him and took his face in your hands, “Of course not.”

“Good,” he placed his hands on your waist rubbing up and down your sides.

“And why is that?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Y-you kno-o-ow b-b-because you’r-re…” he trailed off a stuttering mess caught off guard by your question.

You stroke his jaw with your thumbs and brought his face closer to yours, “Charles, I’m yours. You know this.”

He leaned down and closed the gap between your lips in a long-awaited kiss. He kissed you gently as if he were testing the waters. You smiled against his lips and moved to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your hips. You moved forward slightly to lean more into him and he let out a groan against your mouth. He stilled in the kiss, keeping your hips in place from moving further. 

“No more surprises, okay?" he said as you separated.

"Okay, but no more jumping to conclusions either."

"You are going to give me gray hairs early, Chérie," he exasperated.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

You may notice I frequently comment on the assumptions people make about animal facilities based on their branding. Frequently, people assume accredited facilities are inherently better for animals than unaccredited facilities, or assume sanctuaries are inherently more moral / better at caring for their animals than zoos.

I want to show you an example of why I am always, always skeptical of these assumptions.

If you’re in the California area, you might have heard about Hank the Tank - who is actually a Henrietta, btw - the 500 pound nuisance bear from Lake Tahoe who broke into 21 homes in search of food. She was recently captured by wildlife officials and moved to a sanctuary in Colorado. The Wild Animal Sanctuary has three main facilities, two in Colorado and one in TX. To give you some context, it’s the biggest carnivore sanctuary in the country - they advertise somewhere between 300-500 animals, mostly large carnivores, between their properties. It’s where most of the Tiger King cats went. It’s PETA’s preferred placement for confiscated exotic animals. So, obviously, it’s got to be great, right? Except… take a look at what they posted about Henrietta’s arrival.

Here’s their post about Henrietta’s arrival at the Refuge, the large facility in Colorado that isn’t open to the public. Let’s take a closer look at that food trough…

What do we see here? An entire rotisserie chicken that is either blackened or highly seasoned, and a whole ham. Maybe a second chicken underneath the pile, I can’t quite tell. The sanctuary gets the majority of their bear food donated from groceries stores once it’s past the sell-by date, so we know those are older meats and they’re full of a ton of salt. Then, for fruit and veg, there’s a cantaloupe, mango, corn, avocado, grapes, and apples. Maybe a pepper or two, it’s hard to tell. That’s a lot of sugar and not a lot of fiber or roughage.

But… on top of it and to the right… are those Twizzlers?

Yes.

The sanctuary confirmed on Facebook that they fed this recently rescued obese bear what looks like almost an entire pack of Twizzlers.

I don’t know of any world in which it’s appropriate to feed candy to a bear. Maybe a piece or two as a really high value reinforcer for hard behaviors (that isn’t relevant here, it’s openly against this sanctuary’s ethos to do any husbandry or medical training). An entire pack of Twizzlers is just appalling. But it’s not uncommon for this facility! I have a book written about their operations and animal care (that I bought at their gift shop this spring) which openly discusses how the bears get fed bread, doughnuts, marshmallows, and all sorts of incredibly unhealthy food that comes in with the grocery donations.

But hey, this is apparently fine for the bears, according to the sanctuary’s founder. He was quoted in that same book as saying “Bears are the only animal I know of that can eat insane amounts of sugar and it never hurts them. It does not hurt their organs. They do not get clogged arteries. They do not have high blood pressure. In the wild they eat all these sweet berries in the fall, and they convert sugar to fat… so the more sugar they get the better… we would all love to have a system like that!”

Now while it’s true that bears have physiological adaptations that modulate their insulin production and sensitivity in ways that appear to prevent them from from developing diabetes, that does’t mean it’s healthy for them to regularly eat processed carbohydrates, sugar, and general junk food. And remember - Henrietta gained her fame because of how incredibly overweight she already is, and because she was seeking out human food, According to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, a healthy weight for a normal adult black bear is between 100-300 pounds. So, obviously, the best thing to do is… continue to feed her candy.

Then, later on in the book, it details how they have to bribe a camel to sit tight for a regular medical examination (since they don’t train for medical behaviors) by letting him drink a can of Mountain Dew each time.

If a zoo was known publicly to be feeding their animals Mountain Dew or a couple Twizzlers - even just once, on a rare occasion - they’d be eviscerated in the media and by public opinion. But feeding out inappropriate junk food appears to be a pretty common practice at this place, and it just goes unscrutinized because everyone assumes sanctuaries are inherently better for animals.

So, long story short, never make assumptions about the quality of a facility based on it’s branding or accreditation. (TWAS is accredited by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries). If you have concerns about the ethics or practices of a facility, always try to put your preconceptions aside, go and see for yourself, and think critically about what you see and what you’re told.

[hotshotsxyz]

“ just… be honest with me, do you hate me? “ for Buddie

(buddie) (869 words) this prompt screams angst, which is. the exact opposite of what i did with it. whoops!

“You asshole,” Eddie says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We agreed—”

“I know, I know,” Buck says, “But just—trust me?”

Eddie sighs. “I’m going to break up with you one of these days,” he threatens.

“No you won’t,” Buck replies with a sunny grin.

He’s right, obviously, but he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. Eddie makes a noncommittal noise and climbs into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“At least tell me where we’re going?” Eddie asks, not especially optimistic he’ll get an answer.

“Nope!”

Eddie groans. “I hate you, you know that?”

Buck snorts. “M’hm, sure, definitely seemed like you hated me this morning.”

“Yeah, well, see if I do that again any time soon,” Eddie snarks.

Buck laughs, loud and bright. It’s hard to summon even playful irritation in the face of Buck’s obvious joy, but Eddie’ll be damned if he doesn’t give it the ol’ college try.

They take a circuitous route out of LA and up through the canyons to Malibu. There’s a small farmers market on the way, one they’ve been to once or twice before, and Buck insists they stop for strawberries. Eddie insists on buying peach jam, mostly because he likes it and Buck doesn’t. Instead of rising to the bait, Buck swings by the bakery tent and grabs a loaf of sourdough to go with it. Dick.

“C’mon,” Buck says, once they’ve secured their purchases in a backpack that’s apparently been in the back the entire time. “We’re leaving the car here.”

“Oh, so you’re torturing me with physical activity for our anniversary, I guess that isn’t a gift after all,” Eddie says, just to be contrary. He loves hiking, and they both know it.

Buck rolls his eyes. “It’s a ten minute walk, fifteen tops. I won’t even make you carry anything.”

“My hero,” Eddie says, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest.

Buck locks the Jeep and bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s. “You coming?”

“Under duress,” he replies, but he’s pretty sure the grin on his face gives the game away.

True to Buck’s word, it takes just over ten minutes to reach their apparent destination. The path was entirely up hill, though, and Eddie makes sure to get some mileage out of that.

The view from the small overlook at the top, though, is pretty impossible to complain about. The ocean stretches out infinitely before them, brilliantly blue and glittering.  It’s the kind of place where the rest of the world just… falls away.

Eddie loves it. Buck knows he loves it.

“Fine,” Eddie says, “You win. This is perfect.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks from behind him.

“You know it is,” Eddie says. He tears his eyes away from the horizon and—

Oh.

That’s—

Buck’s spread a large picnic blanket on the ground behind him, and it’s a ridiculous first thought to have, but sue him, Eddie’s feels like his brain is doing a hard reset, because—

Because—

Because Buck is on one knee and he’s got a small black ring box in his hand and his eyes are already shining and Eddie’s never loved someone the way he loves Buck.

“Eddie,” Buck says, and it’s just his name but the love and devotion in it takes away his breath.

“There’s not a lot I haven’t said to you,” Buck continues. “But you know me, I like to talk.”

Eddie nods vigorously, entirely incapable of forming words of his own.

“And there’s—there’s no one else in this world I want to spend the rest of my life talking to,” he says, huffing a small laugh at his own expense.

“Eds, you’re—you’re the sun,” he says, and Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him that can’t be true, because he’s already looking at the brightest light on the planet.

“You’ve been making everything better and brighter since the day we met. Getting to love you is—is the greatest privilege of my life, and I’m kind of hoping you’ll let me keep doing it forever.”

A small noise punches it’s way out of Eddie’s chest, and it’s only then that it occurs to him that he might need to breathe for the part he’s pretty sure is coming next.

 “So, Eddie Diaz,” Buck says as the first of what Eddie’s sure will be many tears slips down his cheek, “will you marry me?”

Eddie drops to his knees and takes Buck’s face in his hands and brushes the tear away with his thumb. There are a hundred things he wants to say, but he still hasn’t managed to take that breath, and, really, only one of them is important right now.

A mischievous expression flashes across Buck’s face. “Just… be honest with me,” he says, a little smug, “do you hate me?”

“Yes,” Eddie finally gasps.

Buck jerks in surprise. “Yes?”

“No, not—yes I’ll marry you,” Eddie says in a rush.

“Oh,” Buck says with a grin. “Well, that’s a relief because—”

Eddie doesn’t let him finish. He crashes his lips against Buck’s. He kisses his fiancé. He’s not sure he knew it was possible to be this happy.

He can’t believe the asshole beat him to it. Eddie loves him so much.

[ambros1an]

hsr x gn!reader relationship hcs

warnings: penacony spoilers (2.0+), bug mention (screwllum), angsty (aventurine & acheron), ocd mention (sunday), slight dark content (ie stalking) at end in Sundays but it’s marked in red to avoid if uncomfy

characters: sunday, screwllum, acheron, aventurine

a/n: i feel like it’s so obvious i did like 2 of these a week later 💀 i need more Sunday content in game

sunday

❧ if you manage to get past Sunday’s formal exterior, what lies behind it is a complete “know-it-all.”

❧let him nerd out about the greatest books in the current and past amber eras. he’ll make sure to tell you all about the authors too.

❧if the two of you have liking books in common, congrats! he’ll bring you on a tour to the primal waking library where you can chat all about it.

❧sunday’s compulsions become even worse with you around. is his shirt properly tucked in? he hopes there’s no wrinkles, maybe he should iron all his shirts again. oh gosh-are his shoes untied? you don’t even notice this. he’s used to hiding his true feelings.

❧he definitely confesses first. he’s aware that his status can be a hindrance when forming genuine relationships.

❧ maybe afterwards he’ll let you touch his wings. he loves the feeling of you stroking his feathers. especially when those annoying pin feathers grow in. the biggest sign of trust amongst birds- and sunday of course.

❧ and obviously you always get free vip to robin’s shows.

❧before and after the “Robin incident” are two very different Sundays.

❧the after, is a very possessive Sunday. he can’t have you become like Robin. he uses nightingales to keep watch on you, to make sure you’re safe. he knows it’s unhealthy but he just lost his sister, he can’t lose you too.

-

Aventurine

❧aventurine’s flirty facade fools most people. they think he’s sleazy and untrustworthy, and so do you in the beginning.

❧at first he talks to you because he thinks your reactions are amusing.

❧eventually your relationship gets too deep for comfort.

❧this guy will never open up. if he has feelings for you, you’ll never know. it’s not because he’s ashamed. it’s because he cannot comprehend someone actually liking him.

❧the only way he’ll confess is if you do it first. and even then he plays it off like a joke, something he can’t even believe. it takes a lot of button pressing to get him to admit his feelings.

❧aventurine is a very vulnerable person. he may rub off insults but they still hurt him deep.

❧the first time you hug him, he is baffled. affection has been foreign to him since the extinction event.

❧worming your way into his heart will get you even more riches then before. sure, he hands out money like nothing, but to you? that credit card is unlimited.

❧”what, that’s all?” he encourages you to spend.

❧brings you to casinos for good luck. not as if he needed any, but with you at least his hand doesn’t shake.

-

screwllum

❧ it isn’t uncommon for inorganic species to feel love. just as it isn’t uncommon for organic species not to.

❧ Screwllum, however, hasn’t experienced that feeling.

❧ he sees the way organic species love in a way he hasn’t. as a genius society member and one interested in life itself, how could he not be interested.

❧ which is why when he starts feeling a fluttering in his chest whenever you’re around, he must get to the bottom of it!

❧ confesses instantly. he has zero experience yet remains so confident.

❧ immediately takes time out of his day to interact with you. in whatever way possible.

❧ it could be the busiest day of his life and he’ll still make time for you.

❧ he’s described as a gentlemen by his close companions. this means opening doors for you, taking you out to places, etc.

❧ sounds too good to be true. but it is true.

❧ his one flaw, if you can even call it that, is his love for all life. and that includes bugs! no smashing them on his watch! he’s picking them up before you even get the chance.

❧ if you like bugs, even better. he’ll gently pick them up and talk about them with you. the two of you can take turns.

-

Acheron

❧ the first time you meet her, you think she’s a polite but introverted lady. she claims to be a galaxy ranger and you have no reason to doubt her.

❧ her blunt way of speaking leaves no room for questions.

❧ that is, until you get too entangled in each other’s destines.

❧ your first meeting with acheron, wasn’t actually your first. you’ve met her many times. every time though she seems not to know you.

❧ Acheron lies to protect you. just as she lied about being a galaxy ranger, she lies that she has no feelings whatsoever towards you.

❧ perhaps you remind her of someone she once knew.

❧ on some days, acheron traverses through her memories to look for you. she sees the hurt look in your eyes, but sees your smiles too. the path of a self-annihilater is a lonely one.

❧ ultimately, if you manage to convince her with words and actions that you truly care for her. she will put forth that effort tenfold. she desperately doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

❧ acheron is very protective towards you. if there’s a hint of danger, she’ll encourage you to take her with you. even going on her own to eliminate it herself.

credit to @/miau-meow-miau for first divider 🫶

[lintwriting]

I was here when mouthwashing was just a demo. here are some things I noticed.

I caught on to the fact that Curly was likely innocent and that Jimmy was an unreliable narrator based on the "Take Responsibility" word scramble and Jimmy's asshole behavior. Because of this, I also did not think there would be supernatural horror, I thought it’d be man-made and psychological, which I was right about.

What I did not expect was the subtle depiction of how workplaces fail victims of rape and misogyny.

What I did not expect was how backgrounded the late stage capitalism critique ended up being.

late stage capitalism: a red herring

From the Demo, you focus a lot on the corporation as the main antagonist, probably because Wrong Organ devs were hiding the villain protagonists.

Ominous posters, a Polle monster chasing you, those ominous TV commercials glorifying working for a corporation, the fact that all this horror was over fucking tooth-rotting mouthwash. Really paints the picture of a corporate horror or conspiracy a la “Time to Orbit: Unknown,” where every chapter unveils a new corporate conspiracy for money and power.

but instead, in mouthwashing, the capitalist aspects are merely plot devices to explore the horror surrounding mismanagement and its consequences.

A power tripping coworker and an enabling manager who got him the job. An eager-to-please kid and an established supervisor willing to take advantage. Flaws in how the hierarchy is decided, leading to the one person who shouldn’t have had power getting the power. Lack of sensitivity training (or whatever that’s called) surrounding things like Title IX concerns, such as the uneven gender dynamics or what to do in the event of a crime or the fact that the person doing the psych evals isn’t getting any evals.

Notice that none of these things are unique to capitalism, they’re issues you’d have to plan for in any workplace/organization, whether that be socialist or capitalist or whatever. The capitalism exacerbates the issues or catalyzes the consequences of them like a plot device, but the issues don’t originate from there.

For example: the lack of any woman other than Anya.

Yes, this was most likely exacerbated by late stage capitalism understaffing to cut corners, leading to skeleton crews, but that the crew we DO have is mostly male is more related to misogyny or gender roles.

Perhaps women don't want to work on these freighters because of the danger of being trapped in a confined space with men. Maybe the jobs required for these freighters, like mechanic or pilot, are male-dominated. Or maybe the hiring manager had a bias where they viewed men as more competent, etc. The fact of the matter is that the cause is the same when you dig down deep into it: misogyny.

Or the layoff. The laying off of the crew is its own form of evil, but its consequences aren’t the ones being explored within this story. Most of the crew die of the horrors within the ship before they ever have to face it. In fact, the horrors within the ship don't really even have anything to do with the layoff at all. It’s a bit of a red herring.

Rather, the actual cause of this game’s horror is the mismanaged fallout of Jimmy’s assault. Most obviously in that scene where we see Curly for the first time, wherein Curly doesn’t take Anya’s safety concerns seriously, even when Jimmy is actively threatening to make everyone disappear so neither of them have to face the consequences of the assault.

I initially misread that scene as Curly evilly conspiring to let Jimmy crash the ship so neither of them would take the fall, hence us finally seeing Curly's “true face.” Because I read what Jimmy said as inherently threatening and serious, I thought Curly had agreed to that awful plan and only got cold feet at the last minute.

It’s only from reading other comments that I realized Curly had most likely assumed Jimmy was blowing hot air and needed to cool down in that scene. Or that he was making an inappropriate joke akin to his 'sexually attracted to cartoon horses' thing and wasn't being serious. Curly didn’t realize Jimmy was actually talking about a real plan until it was too late stop it (makes me wonder if Jimmy was actually attracted to the horse, too).

Thus, it goes from a story about corner-cutting late stage capitalist megacorps to a story about cartoonishly evil, power-tripping men to a story about how we enable these men with failures in our system.

Much like how the beginning of the game, when Jimmy crashes the ship, a failure in the safety systems is what allows the crash to happen (Seriously? One pilfered key is all you need to send your ship into a crash?), a series of social safety nets had to have failed to let him into the cockpit in the first place. The true face is not Curly conspiring to crash the ship out of cowardice and greed, but his inability to face what his friend has done.

[ladyfogg]

Perfect Fit

Fic Summary: Since the first time you let him bite you, Astarion knew seducing you would be easy. What he didn’t anticipate were the feelings that came with it.

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Drow!Monk Reader

Word Count: 11.7k

Warnings: Biting, Blood Drinking (Vampire and all that), Male Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Oral (Female Receiving), Sex, Grinding, Cuddling

A/N: I’m really glad I took my time with this one because I absolutely love how it came out. Enjoy! I don’t know if I’ll write any other Astarion fics but we’ll see.

---

Just a taste, that is all he needs.

Boars and wildlife will not suffice, not if your little troop of weirdos keeps going at the same grueling pace. Since the moment he had been snatched up and that damn tadpole shoved into his eye it has been one battle after another.

The diet Cazador forced him onto had already weakened him. And Astarion knew that if he did not do something soon, if he couldn’t keep up with the others, you will turn your back on him.

After all, why keep him around if he isn’t useful?

No, he needs to stay in your good graces. More than that, he needs you to trust him, to care for him. It’s the only way he can ensure that when his former master comes knocking, because Astarion is not naïve enough to assume he is completely free, you will be there shielding him, to knock back.

Which you are obviously capable of doing. He’s seen you fight enough times to know you have a quick temper and an even quicker right hook.

You are the defacto leader, the one who always seems to do the talking even though you’re not the most charismatic of the bunch. Yet, when you open your mouth, the others listen, take your word as law even when they don’t agree.

Astarion finds himself falling in line along with them. Then again, he has two hundred years of conditioning to contend with. He wonders what excuse the others have.

Regardless, the plan remains the same. Seduce you, get you on his side, save his spectacular, frankly tight, ass. Simple. He’s played this part more times than he can count and can do it in his trance.

Of course, none of that matters if he starves to death. The gnawing hunger deep in his belly is distracting and has been for days. He’s used to ignoring it, even in the thick of combat. But he can’t, not tonight.

Tonight, it’s bad enough to get in the way of hunting. He can’t keep up with a lame doe he stumbles across. It bolts before he is even close enough to lunge. Not good. He returns to his tent frustrated and desperate.

Red eyes scan the still camp, predatory and sharp. He told you all he would keep watch because he needed time and space to think, which is partially true. However, that was when he hoped to catch dinner.

How in the Hells can he bloody think when he’s starving?

There’s a rustling near the fire, immediately drawing his attention. His gaze falls on you while you shift, your back to him as your body rolls towards the warmth of the campfire. A breeze glides through their encampment, bringing your tantalizing scent towards him, beckoning, teasing.

Astarion takes a deep inhale, eyes closed as he unwittingly gives into his instincts. Hunting pushes them away. But with no wildlife to sate him, his feet move on their own, dragging him closer to your prone body. When he opens his eyes, his vision blocks out everything that isn’t you.

The hunger is all that matters and right now, the hunter has finally found his prey.

His steps make no noise as practice and skill take over. He’s close enough to see the subtle rise and fall of your breath, the dim firelight framing you with its eerie glow, leading him like a beacon in the never-ending dark.

Astarion takes a knee, arms out for balance and eyes closed as he moves purely on instinct. He opens his mouth, fangs dripping with saliva at the promise of a meal, a real meal…

A second later he feels you move and his eyes snap open, only to find yours staring up at him. Cold realization slams into him like a heavy maul, making him blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Shit.”

Immediately, he backs away as you quickly rise to your feet, eyes narrowed in distrust. You don’t even have a chance to speak before he launches into an explanation, trying to keep his voice hushed to avoid waking the others.

“No, no, it’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he insists. “I wasn’t going to hurt you I…” He pauses, taking a breath to ground himself. The bloodlust isn’t satiated, not by a long shot but it is tempered by a furious-looking monk. “I just needed…well…blood.”

It sounds lame even to his own ears. Not his best work but, then again, he isn’t at his best.

You swear, burying your face in your hands. “Fucking unbelievable!” you exclaim in a harsh whisper. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it! We even found the boar you snacked on. And you were so quick to brush it away.”

“It’s not what you think!”

Astarion’s voice goes up and you motion for him to be quiet. A quick glance confirms the others are still fast asleep.

The next thing he knows, you’re grabbing his sleeve and tugging him away from the fire, away from the others, which is not at all what he's anticipating. He doesn’t even have a chance to register you’re touching until your hand is already gone, leaving a phantom of its warmth.

“I’m not some monster,” he persuades. “I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds, whatever I can get. I’m…I’m just too slow right now. Too weak.” He pauses, the hunger taking hold once more. “If I just had a little blood, I could fight better. Please.”

There’s a sharp pain between his eyes, the familiar trigger of the tadpole lodged in his brain. He recognizes the sensation, knows it’s you reaching out, asking, and after a moment of hesitation, he lets you in.

Unlike your companions, you’ve embraced the new connection, used it to convince others to move out of your way or do as you say. Not within the group of course. He suspects you’re too noble for that.

Astarion hasn’t had much time to practice himself. No time like the present. He needs you to see, needs you to understand that what he says is true.

The trust he is trying to build is at stake, no pun intended. You need to see that this is an anomaly, an unfortunate side effect of the intense fighting you both had to endure the last few days.

So Astarion shows you, lets you see fleeting images of what he’s hunted in the woods. But this is all still new. He does not know how it works, does not anticipate the flood of other memories, personal ones he isn’t ready to share.

A dark street, a willing mark, a soft supple body for Cazador’s dark needs. They flicker one after another, a blur of faceless victims he’s lost count of. Yet, none of them with his fangs at their throat or their blood on his lips. It becomes too much too fast.

He gathers his strength and throws up those mental blocks, the ones he’s had for decades yet seem to be crumbling in an instant. With a mental shove, he pushes you out.

While Astarion's body reels from the onslaught, you remain stoic, arms crossed as you stare at him with that intense gaze of yours. The only indication anything is amiss is a head tilt.

How? How are you already so used to these damn tadpoles? You don’t even blink, and with the shadows of the night wrapped around the both of you, he can’t read your expression even with Darkvision. But he can assume and right now, he’s sure he’s fucked up. All he needed was you to trust him and because of this insistent hunger, he’s failed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

This is not the question he expects and he blinks, taken aback. You don’t sound angry, hells it would be easier if you were. Anger he’s used to, can handle with poise. But Astarion thinks he can work with this, whatever it is.

Because it’s not pity, it’s not empathy, it’s something he does not have a name for.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no, more likely you’ll run a stake through my ribs,” he explains. “No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

Of course you can’t. Anyone who ever put their trust in him came to bloody ends. Yet, he’s seen you drop a gnoll with nothing but your fists and an insane high kick, so he feels you may be sturdier than most.

You study him closely, and Astarion does everything to appear docile and properly chastised, hunching his body to make himself smaller. There’s a beat where neither of you blink or speak. However, he catches the subtle slump of your shoulders and a sigh escapes your lips.

“I believe you,” you say. “And I do trust you.”

Astarion slowly exhales his own sigh, this one of relief. “Thank you,” he says.

Then, because he can’t help himself, because his empty stomach twists, because you’re still close enough for him to inhale your scent, he pushes his luck.

“Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” he asks, a hopeful lilt to his voice as he bats his eyelashes at you. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

He fully expects your refusal and wouldn’t blame you in the slightest. As much as this hunger is driving him to madness, he is fully prepared to slink away with his tail tucked between his legs if it means he lives to seduce you another day.

Yet the next words out of your mouth throw him off his game.

“Fine, but not a drop more than you need.”

There’s no hiding the surprise on his face. He knows you see it yet you don’t gloat or react, only smile.

“Really? I—” He clears his throat and recovers, swagger in place as comfortable as a well-worn mask molded just for him. “Of course, not one drop more. Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

He motions towards your bedroll with a bow. As you brush past and turn towards the fire, your smirk is wider, as if you can tell how much excitement is building within him. Then again, with the tadpole and your uncanny ability to read people, you probably do.

The others are still silent and sleeping as you lay back on your bedroll. Astarion’s chest heaves and he licks his lips as the prospect of blood, humanoid blood, becomes all he can focus on. He’s salivating again, red eyes drawn to the smooth expanse of your neck.

At first, all he can hear is the crackling of the fire. But when he leans in, the steady beating of your heart breaks through the noises of the night. Bloody Hells, he can hear the blood rushing through your veins. It hypnotizes him, draws him forward as you roll your head to the side.

White fangs pierce dark skin, sliding clean through to find a thick, pulsing vein. Underneath the rush, he almost misses the soft gasp push past your lips.

Almost.

But he doesn’t have time to process it because the first drops of blood touch his tongue and nothing else matters. Not mind flayers, not tadpoles, not Cazador, nothing but the sweet, red liquid that is sliding down his throat carrying your scent.

Everything else before pales in comparison.

There’s no fear. When he hunts he can taste the deep fear of his prey in their final moments. But this is different. You are different.

It’s such an onslaught of emotions he can’t process them right away. It’s secondhand, like trying to grab a rapidly fading echo in a dark cave.

Astarion doesn’t anticipate it and can’t recognize half of them at first. Sensation is what he does recognize. Pain is immediate, followed by warmth leading into heat in his cheeks and stomach. So much heat. He’s been cold for two hundred years, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have body heat, to be hot.

His body naturally curls around yours, one hand sliding under your head to cradle it close. The fingers of his other hand dig into the packed soil, gripping for something solid yet finding nothing.

Your body arches into his, breasts pressed to his chest and for the briefest moment, he imagines how better this would be if he could feel your bare skin to his.

Then another splatter of blood hits the back of his throat as your heart rate increases and the thought is lost.

Instinct wins out once more and Astarion groans, sucking at the wound with renewed fervor. This is better than he could have imagined. You’re better. All robust and tantalizingly smooth, finer than the finest wine he’s ever sampled. He licks at your skin, gathering as much of the precious liquid as he can. He knows it’s supposed to be a taste, but he needs more. Wants more…

A hand on his shoulder draws him out of his stupor and a firm shove has him breaking free with an orgasmic gasp. Life now drums through his veins, yours and his comingling into a surge of energy that has his dead heart thrumming harder than he ever remembers.

“Enough,” you say, your voice gruff and small, though still commanding. He thinks for a moment you might have actually cast Command on him, until his addled brain remembers you don’t use magic.

Astarion pulls himself together, comes back into his body in a way that’s far more pleasant than it has been in the past. He’s sure he’s made a mess but when he looks down, all he sees are two small puncture wounds with the barest hint of blood. Small specks of his spit glint in the firelight.

He resists the urge to kiss them away, instead stumbling back onto his haunches to give you space.

You slowly sit up and he catches you wincing. It’s the brief flash of pain that helps him reign himself further in. You said you trusted him, let him drink from you, he will not, could not, betray that trust, the gift you’ve given him.

“Of course,” he says, voice breathless as he tries to remember how to speak. “That was amazing.” He smiles wide, feels a droplet of blood slip away from the corner of his lips as he does. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong, I feel…” The faintest hint of emotions still lingers. “…happy.”

You both sit quietly for a moment, air thick with tension and a hint of copper. Your scent is even stronger now and Astarion thinks he could track you from miles away if need be.

“I look forward to seeing you fight.”

Right, the whole reason you did this. To help him be stronger, useful. It’s those thoughts that ground him once more, snap his head out of the clouds and onto the hard forest floor.

Astarion stands while you remain right where you are, watching every move he makes. He wonders if you are waiting for him to pounce, waiting for the monster he assured you does not exist. When he speaks again, it’s the light, easy tone he’s perfected, like sliding the mask back into place.

“Shouldn’t take long so many people need killing,” he says, flippantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating but I need something more filling.”

Nothing will escape him now. He swears he can take down a bear should he be lucky enough to find one.

He turns to leave, yet something stops him from taking the next step. When he glances at you over his shoulder, for a moment, the mask slips and he allows you to see the genuine gratitude he feels.

“This is a gift, you know,” he tells you. “I won't forget it.”

Not staying for a response, he turns away and stalks toward the darkness of the waiting forest. When he’s sure you can’t see him, he swipes that drop off his chin with his thumb, sucking it into his mouth to enjoy the final taste of your essence.

He is content for this to be a one-time thing, a special circumstance he is lucky enough to experience. And though he already longs for more, he enjoys the heat while he can, letting it carry him through the night as he hunts his next prey.

So imagine his surprise when you approach his tent only two days later, wounds barely visible under your collar. Astarion is readying his weapons, preparing for yet another trek through the wilds.

You’re in your vestiges, your arms free say for the thin bracers protecting your wrists. Your stance is sure and confident, eyes alight with something he hasn’t seen in them yet.

“We’re ready to head out,” you say. “Got everything?”

“Prepared and ready for the inevitable descent into violence.”

“How are you feeling?”

For anyone else the question wouldn’t be so loaded. He gathers you’re probably wondering if he’s going to try to steal another bite at some point.

“Fit as a fiddle. Your donation was much appreciated and helpful,” he says, sliding his daggers into their scabbards. “The effects are mostly worn off but such is life. I’m not weak if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not. But, if you need to, you can feed on me tonight.”

Astarion can barely contain himself, thrilled at the prospect of another surge of power, and that his seduction skills are working, though not entirely as he expected. Still, it’s an opportunity he will not squander.

“My sweet, there’s nothing I’d like more,” he purrs, stepping in close. He catches the darkening of your cheeks and lets himself smile in triumph. “I’ll come to you tonight, when you’re snuggly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy. And this time,” he drops his voice for added effect, “I’ll make sure I’m quiet. We don’t want to disturb your rest.”

It's not lost on him that the night after his first taste you took to sleeping in a tent rather than under the stars. The added privacy had him wondering about its purpose.

Now he knows.

Taking another step closer, he drops his voice even lower, keeping the moment between you two. “Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up,” he promises. “Just enough to give me strength and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Your breath catches in your throat and he knows right then that he has you. Even as you smirk and roll your eyes, his pleased smile never falters.

“Great line,” you say, walking backward towards Karlach and Shadowheart, who are waiting for the two of you. “Has that ever worked for you?”

“Numerous times. And trust me, you haven’t heard half my lines.”

“Is that what you do in front of the mirror now that you can’t fawn over yourself?”

“Hurtful!” he gasps in mock outrage. “Also, need I remind you, you came to me just now.”

“And you came to me the other night.”

“Fair point,” he begrudgingly admits, slinging his bow onto his back. “Although, I did ask for just a taste. If you’re wanting another nibble, that says more about you than it does about me. I’m a vampire spawn. What’s your excuse?”

By you’ve turned your back on him and though he can’t see your face, the middle finger you aim his way lets him know he’s won the argument.

The anticipation of his next feeding carries him through the day.

It’s ever-present in the back of his mind, fueling his hunger and drive. He fights harder because he knows that come nightfall, he won’t have to hunt for his meal. You’ll be there in your bedroll, ready and willing.

Astarion can’t suppress the shudder of longing every time he thinks about it.

Waiting never felt so long.

You’re moving closer to the goblin camp with every step, picking off stragglers as you find them. Shadowheart asks the corpses for information and you’re able to narrow down the location of the druid right down to which building he's in.

When you make camp, you’re only half a day’s travel to your destination. Everyone is exhausted and moody, with little talk this time over the campfire. It doesn’t bother Astarion, who felt you all were becoming far too chummy for his liking.

He waits and watches from his tent, taking note as one by one, the others peel off to their respective spaces. You’re one of the last, your eyes straying across the camp in his direction, meeting the gaze that has been transfixed on you the entire time.

As if to tease, your scent finds your way to him on the wind, making his head spin. He gives you a wink and a smirk. You smile back and quirk an eyebrow before disappearing into your tent like the others.

Astarion bides his time, waits until everyone stops rustling and the collective silence of sleep washes over the camp.

Wyll is on watch tonight, though his back is to your tent. Astarion keeps to the shadows and easily dodges him, making no sound as he slips past.

You’re fast asleep, buried in your bedroll with a blanket loosely draped over you.

Astarion feels that familiar tug low in his belly, lets his feet guide him closer. He doesn’t need the fire to see you there, peaceful, almost angelic. You changed into a looser tunic which has slid down to reveal a shoulder.

And the faded markings he left on your throat the other night.

Astarion kneels and then crawls up behind you, slow and careful. He said he wouldn’t disturb your rest and he meant it. No need to wake you when you’ve given your consent.

Besides, as sneaky as he is, Astarion wonders if you’re that light of a sleeper, considering how easily you awoke the last time. He lays behind you, gently peeling the blanket away. Your tunic slips lower when he does and at this angle, he catches just the faintest glimpse of the top of a breast.

It makes him pause, give an appreciative glance, before your neck beckons him.

The hunger urges him forward, begging, pleading with him to drink. You’re so close and warm and vulnerable. He does his best to lean over without touching you, but you automatically tense in your sleep when you feel the coolness of his body draw near.

Leaning down, he lets his lips brush your ear as he whispers, “It’s just me, darling. Go back to sleep.”

You hum and relax once more, dropping your shoulder in the process. The angle is too good and he is too famished to wait any longer.

Astarion bites down, his fangs lining up exactly where they pierced before. His mouth fits against your throat like it was made for him.

A perfect fit.

There’s no need to rush and he is able to savor the experience. This time, a sense of calm washes over him, making his eyes droop closed as the now-familiar yet no less exquisite rush of your blood fills his mouth. Deep down there’s a sense of injustice for being denied this experience for so long.

However, he wonders if it would have been the same without the anticipation and thrill of the chase. Without you in the equation. After all, you’re a powerful person, unyielding in your convictions.

Yet, here you are, offering your blood to him. Giving him power.

He keeps his fangs buried for a moment longer, holds himself there until his mouth is brimming with the taste of you.

Only then does he retract them, sucking softly on the reopened wound to drink his fill. You’re fast asleep, which means that he has to stop himself this time. You’re not aware enough to do it for him.

When he wanted to earn your trust, he did not think you would give it to him so freely. What else will you give him? What else can he get away with? Questions for another night.

Thankfully, he can force himself to stop once that welcoming heat spreads through every part of him.

Every part.

Fucking Hells he is hard as a rock.

It catches Astarion by surprise and he immediately draws away. He finds himself panting, his lips still coated in red as he glances down at himself.

Is it the act of drinking blood or the blood itself? Feeding on animals certainly never drew this reaction.

His head is spinning from bloodlust and arousal, and he feels the need to leave your tent as soon as possible. You signed up to be his meal, not to get him off.

Not yet anyway. Shame, if you were awake he could make his move. He briefly considers rousing you with honeyed words and lustful promises but he decides against it in the end.

Maybe next time.

As he cleans up the mess he’s left on your throat, licking away the remaining drops of blood, he can’t help palming himself at the same time. He’s barely able to contain a hiss at the sensitivity.

Fuck, if this is just from feeding on you, what’s going to happen when he gets to have you another way?

Astarion reluctantly withdraws, readjusting your tunic before draping your blanket back in place. Your breathing never hitches and remains steady, even when he slips out into the night.

With fresh blood pumping through his veins, his body is strong and alive. He feels so fucking alive. He barely takes a few steps before the hardness in his trousers proves too distracting, forcing him to rest against a tree.

If he turns his head, he can still see your tent through the bushes and trees. It surprises him that he wants to go back. Then again, you are the most interesting prospect around and a part of you is within him now.

Soon, a part of him will be in you, he promises himself.

Astarion unties the laces of his trousers and pulls his cock out, finally allowing the hiss he held back earlier. It throbs persistently, begging for him to do something, anything for release. He gives himself an experimental squeeze, wondering if he has the mind for this right now. But it’s too good and he’s too worked up to deny himself.

His eyes never leave your tent as he strokes his cock. Slow at first, but that quickly proves not enough and he speeds up.

Astarion has had too many lovers to count but it has been some time since he’s had to take matters into his own hands. And yes, he plans on seducing you and may even find you attractive, but this is not in the plan.

It certainly didn’t happen the other night.

Moving purely on urges, Astarion lets his head fall back against the tree trunk, and his eyes close, picturing himself back in your tent.  

If only you’d been awake, he could have pressed against you, let you feel the length of him as he drank his fill.

Would you grind back? Would you gasp? He’s more than sure that he can get you to do both. When he finally gets you where he wants you, when he finally has you writhing and moaning his name, he's not going to let you cum until you beg for it, beg for him to fill you as he drinks from that delicious throat.

With a strangled moan, he cums onto the forest floor, his knees buckling under the sudden onslaught of sensation.

Putting his full weight against the tree for support, he takes a moment to catch his breath mind, and senses hyper-aware of every rustle of leaves and gust of wind. With his lust now stated, there is an overwhelming sense of fear and guilt.

What the Hells is with all this wanting and desire? He is not allowed to want. Seducing you isn’t about desire. Neither of those emotions should be there and yet they are.

Let’s just push those way back where they belong, he thinks as he tucks himself back into his trousers.

His head is clearer now, his focus as sharp as it was the previous night. Brushing the incident off, Astarion switches into hunting mode, his grin wide enough to verge on the side of madness as he bolts into the forest, with nothing but the thought of his next kill.

Your offer of blood becomes a regular occurrence.

Not every day but often enough for Astarion to notice a significant change in himself, his power. He is faster and stronger than he has ever been. There is still the situation of becoming immensely horny when he does feed on you, but he looks on the bright side and accepts it as an unexpected bonus.

On days when your party runs into a fight, he finds himself drained but not enough to impede his hunting.

A fact he brags about one night when he stumbles back to camp, brimming with excitement and pride.

“Guess what I just did!” he exclaims, plopping beside you on the ground by the fire that seems to have your attention.

It’s your night to keep watch which means he is out of luck for his midnight snack, as he’s taken to calling you. Much to your chagrin.

You chuckle and motion towards his mouth. “Judging by the blood I’m assuming you caught a nice dinner,” you say.

Astarion impatiently wipes it away. “Not just dinner, a bear! A whole bear!”

“Gods, you drank a whole bear?”

He nods proudly, grin wide and sloppy. “Now, it wasn’t as good a vintage as Drow,” he concedes with a wink your way. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I was able to kill it all by my lonesome and nary a curl out of place.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Kind of,” he slurs.

In truth, he is euphoric, untouchable. Between proper feedings and the tadpole, Astarion feels he is the strongest vampire spawn there may have ever been. Tonight, like the first night he bit you, there is no Cazador, mind flayer, or other threat. There’s only him and the blood of the black bear that he’s taken for himself.

And you, of course.

You smile in amusement, turning your attention to the fire.

Astarion leans back on his elbows, his body wonderfully loose and relaxed for the first time in decades. He takes the time to study your profile, his delirious mind focusing for the moment. He is acutely aware that it is only the two of you, a rarity considering the size of the camp.

Between the adrenaline of the hunt and the opportunity that comes with privacy, Astarion shifts closer, not enough to touch but enough for you to know he’s done so.

“You know, darling,” he drawls. “I don’t think I’ve told you how devastatingly beautiful you look by firelight.”

You don’t respond and at first, he wonders if you heard him. When it becomes apparent you haven’t, he clears his throat and tries again.

“The way the flames reflect in your eyes is hypnotizing,” he continues. “I can get lost in them, have been lost in them ever since we met.”

Still nothing. Astarion feels you’re miles away, which his pride will not stand for, not when he feels as good as he does and is throwing you all the signals.

He sits up and waves a hand in front of your face. “Helllooo? Devilishly handsome roguish vampire here giving you compliments. The least you can do is acknowledge me.”

You blink and tear your eyes away from the flames, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ignore you. I’m not very good company tonight, I’m afraid.”

Astarion shrugs and sits up, interest piqued. “That’s alright, darling. We don’t need to talk. There are plenty of other ways we can enjoy each other’s company.”

You roll your eyes as you look back at the fire with that amused smile you seem to reserve only for him. “Hey, if I could turn my brain off for the night, I’d take you up on that,” you admit.

Finally feeling like he’s getting somewhere, Astarion leans in closer. “You’re in luck because I happen to be a delectable distraction. All you have to do is say the word.” He pauses before adding. “I’m talking about sex of course. We should have sex.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of what you meant.”

Astarion grins, reaching out to walk his fingers up your forearm, playfully tugging at the sleeve of your tunic. “So what are we waiting for?” he purrs. “A midnight snack is all well and good, but I wouldn’t mind sampling what else you have to offer.”

As full as he is, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in another nibble. There’s something special about your blood, enticing. When he’s this close to you it becomes all he can think about and he has to stop himself from nuzzling your throat. At least until he knows he has you.

“I want to,” you tell him, finally meeting his gaze. “I really really want to.”

“Then what’s the problem? I am ready, willing, and certainly able.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

Astarion frowns, confused. This has always worked before, there’s no reason for it not to work now. He doesn’t get it. You’re clearly attracted to him and he’s doing everything but presenting himself on a silver platter. By now you should be throwing yourself at his feet.

And there’s no way he’s lost his touch because that would be like saying the sky is no longer blue.

You take a deep breath and when you start to speak again, it comes out in a rush, like you’ve been holding the words in for far too long and can’t any longer.

“There is so much at stake and so many people are depending on us, on me. It’s all I think about. I can’t focus on anything else. For days it’s been one crisis after another. On top of that, everyone keeps saying that we need to get rid of the tadpoles and that we should have turned already. We rescued Halsin but he can’t do what we hoped he would and I’m just…”

You let out a noise of frustration and Astarion is back to grinning because this he can work with. This he understands.

“Aren’t monks taught to still their minds?” he teases.

“I didn’t become a monk to still my mind. I became a monk because I like punching things. It’s honestly my favorite thing to do.” You take a deep breath before falling onto your back to stare up at the stars. “But now everyone keeps looking to me for answers and I just don’t have them. Nor do I want to be the one to figure all this shit out.”

Perfect, a new angle.

Astarion leans over you, forcing you to look him in the eye. “It’s just as I feared. You need me more than I thought.” He bends his head, delighted when you instinctively present your neck. He places the gentlest of kisses to bite mark, nuzzling into your soft skin like he’s been wanting to do since he sat down. “If you need your mind on something else, let it be me. Let me touch you, taste you. Let me bring you to such unbearable peaks that you forget everything that isn’t my mouth, fingers, or cock.”

You moan softly, shuddering at the warmth of his breath. “I don’t know if you can.”

Astarion draws back, a wide smile showing off his sharp canines. “Trust me, darling, I can.” He slides a hand up to cradle your head just like he did the first night he bit you. But it’s kisses he lavishes your throat with, with the occasional scrape of his teeth.

A gentle hand on his shoulder has him pulling away.

“You seem pretty confident about that,” you say, eyes searching his.

“Because it’s true.”

He knows what you’re searching for and does everything he can to make sure his gaze speaks for him. Lust and desire, mixed with a touch of hopefulness. Disarming and endearing, exactly who he needs to be for you.

“Here is what we’re going to do,” he continues, putting all his weight on one hand so he can use the other to take yours. “Tomorrow night, once everyone is asleep, I’ll slip into your tent, and I will make it so that pretty little head of yours can focus on something else. Something much more pleasurable.”

He punctuates each word with a kiss, first to your fingers, then your bruised knuckles, and finally to your inner wrist where he can feel your pulse racing. The sound of your rushing blood makes his own body thrum with desire. His hunger returns, but not enough to distract him.

But enough to make him twitch with anticipation.

At this angle, he knows you can feel it when his cock hardens. Your eyes widen and you bite your lip to stifle another moan when he teasingly grinds down against you.

“I…” You try to speak but need to take a second to catch your breath. “I would like that very much.”

“Good.”

Astarion leans down and captures your lips in a harsh kiss. It’s meant to be quick, a tease, a way to continue the seduction and leave you wanting more but it immediately becomes something else. You match his energy perfectly, your tongue slipping past his to explore. He isn’t expecting such a hungry response after the way you seemed so controlled, fully expecting it to take time for him to get you to this level.

Apparently, you’re closer to the edge than he thought. But it’s more than that. Kissing you makes him feel…something. He just doesn’t know what in the Hells that is. It makes it difficult to pull away, to stop, and make you wait.

So he indulges, deepens the kiss by leisurely licking the inside of your mouth once you actually let him. It’s good, really good. Enough to lose himself for the moment, to cup your cheek and hold you close.

His head is spinning and in his excitement, one of his fangs nicks your bottom lip.

A drop of your blood is enough to snap him out of it. Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to ruin everything. He’ll either fuck or drain you and right now he’s not sure which.

Astarion abruptly breaks the kiss, not before his tongue at your lip to steal another drop. “Until tomorrow night,” he promises.

He leaves you there, dazed and staring after him as he casually strolls back to his tent. Leaving you wanting more, just like he planned.

And definitely not because of any other reason.

Needless to say, trancing doesn’t come easy that night. Every time he closes his eyes, all he envisions is you in the firelight, looking up at him like he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Granted, he knows he is, but that’s beside the point.

If he’s honest with himself, there may be a small, tiny part of him that feels bad for deceiving you this way. Granted, he is attracted to you and the idea of having sex sounds incredibly appealing.

So what if there is another motive? You both will come out on top in the end, metaphorically speaking. Although, the mental image of you riding him is quite good. Body rocking, breasts bouncing, wet heat enveloping his lap…

Astarion needs a distraction himself at this rate.

The next day he maintains his distance for both your sakes. For one thing, he knows being apart from your object of desire only makes the chase that more thrilling. And for another, he is dealing with a storm of emotions he is not prepared for nor interested in.

On occasion when he can’t help but slide his gaze your way, you seem thoroughly focused every time. He doesn’t catch you looking longingly his way, not even once, and finds it frankly insulting. How can you be so engrossed in what you’re doing even though you know he will be in your bed later?

Unacceptable.

When you both find yourselves set upon by cultists, Astarion is relieved. He needs a good bloodbath to pull his shit together.

His daggers get quite the workout, slicing enemies left and right.

Lost in the thrill of the kill, he forgets about the weird feelings and the way his seduction of you seems to be more complicated than he thought it would be. He forgets about his hesitations or questions.

Nothing is weird and nothing is wrong.

A familiar scent breaks through the gore that stops him in his tracks. Your scent. Your blood.

You’re bleeding.

Like a hound, his head whips in your direction. He sees you across the battlefield, knocking a man to the ground. But one hand is pressed to your side, bright red visible even at this distance.

Shit, you’re further from him than he realizes and he has to scramble over a few boulders to be able to close the distance. His sharp eyes catch movement in the trees, and before he even has a chance to grab his bow, the hidden archer takes aim.

Everything happens so fast.

The arrow fires, Astarion eyes land on you, knows you don’t see it and as he raises his hand towards you, has your name on his lips—

Your hand snaps up, catching the arrow an inch before it hits your temple. With a glare, you look up at the archer, swing around, and throw the arrow right back at him.

Astarion watches the archer fall from the branches, landing in a heap on the ground.

Dead.

You grin in Astarion’s direction, face smattered with blood and he wants nothing more than to fuck you on top of that corpse. But then you stumble and concern takes over. If you fall in battle then he’s shit out of luck and he can’t let that happen.

“Whoa now, none of that!” he scolds, rushing to your side to catch you. “Where the Hells is that cleric when we need her?”

“Did you see me catch that arrow?” you slur, grinning. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Yes, yes, it was very hot, now hold still, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Even better, gives you a free meal.”

It’s Astarion’s turn to roll his eyes as he helps you lean against a tree for support. “I prefer the more intimate approach we’ve established.”

Once he’s sure you’re not going to collapse, he digs through his pack for a healing potion.

“Shame to let all this blood go to waste but to each his own,” you say.

He uncorks the potion with his teeth and holds the bottle up for you to drink. It’s not until it’s empty that he allows himself to calm down. You slowly remove your hand and the two of you watch the wound start to close. Not all the way, you’ll need Shadowheart for that, but enough to stop the bleeding.

Astarion spits the cork aside and throws the empty bottle. “There, almost good as new. Maybe don’t get stabbed again.”

“There go the rest of my plans for the day.”

“Lunatic.”

Something comes over him, making him grab the back of your head and yank you into a kiss, too wrapped up in his bullshit to overthink or consider his actions. With one arm around his waist, you kiss him back and it’s sloppy and messy and everything he needs it to be.

Nothing happened. You didn’t die and you’re still able to be seduced. Good.

When you draw back, gasping for breath, he grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly sucks your fingers into his mouth, one by one, swirling his tongue around the digits to gather every drop of blood he can. You’re right. It seems silly to let it go to waste.

Your pupils dilate, your breath coming through your lips in a rush as you watch, transfixed.

He doesn’t need the tadpole to know what you’re thinking, or imagining. It’s a precursor to what he plans to do to you later. But with your thighs squeezing his head as he brings you over the edge.

Astarion releases your finger with a pop and a smirk. You lean in to steal another kiss when you’re stopped by the heavy thud of Karlach’s footsteps. You just manage to pull back when she bursts through the foliage.

“You guys alright?” she asks, also splattered with blood. “We just got jumped by some assholes.”

Astarion gestures to the bodies littered at your feet. “Welcome to the fucking club.”

“Where’s Shadowheart?” you ask.

“Right here,” Shadowheart speaks up, approaching from a different direction. “One tried to run away but I took care of it. Shit, are you bleeding?”

“Not anymore, thanks to me,” Astarion says.

When you wince and stumble towards her, Shadowheart catches you. Her hand glows with radiant light as she casts a healing spell.

“Easy there, soldier!” Karlach says. “You stay put. We’ll deal with these.” She gestures to the bodies, where Astarion is already digging through the pockets.

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to let good gold go to waste, and definitely not because you two were interrupted. Not because being close and alone with you makes his head spin. Not because he doesn’t know why he kissed you like that. And certainly not because the brief taste of blood is threatening to send him into a frenzy.

By the time the bodies are searched, Shadowheart is done with her healing and you’re able to stand up straight.

“Let’s get back and tell the others,” you say. “With these guys gone, we should be good to keep our camp for one more night. But tomorrow we have to move on.”

Astarion is starting to feel peckish and welcomes the chance to be alone. “I’ll do a little scouting to check for stragglers,” he offers, tossing you the heavy bag of coin he collected. “You know, make sure there isn’t anything lurking before dark.”

“You sure? You really shouldn’t go alone,” you say.

He’s already headed in the opposite direction and turns to face you as he walks backward. “If they hear me, they deserve to catch me. You don’t need to worry, darling. I won’t be late for our date.”

Your cheeks darken and he watches Karlach break into a wide grin while Shadowheart raises her eyebrows. He’s already gone by the time they bombard you with questions.

That moment you two just shared plays over and over in his head. With the taste of your blood still on his tongue, he gives into baser instincts.

Tonight, he will fuck you, and you’ll be so enthralled by his talents, he’ll have you eating out of his hand in no time.

Astarion’s mission turns up no more cultists. And after a brief tussle with a boar, he’s recharged and ready to seduce the pants off you.

Literally.

Night has already begun to fall when he returns to camp. At first, he doesn’t see you anywhere, but then you emerge from the brush, in a clean tunic and trousers with your freshly washed clothes under your arm.

He sneaks up behind you as you lay them out on a nearby patch of grass to dry.

“If you waited we could have had a little dip together,” he purrs, only half teasing because bathing naked with you sounds enticing right now.

“That wasn’t funny,” you glare over your shoulder, although he doesn’t sense or see any real malice on your face. “They gave me shit the whole way back.”

“I’m fairly certain they knew something has been going on. You haven’t exactly been hiding the mark.”

You tug on your collar in a vain attempt to do just that. “Still.” You turn to face him and cross your arms, a neutral stance that conveniently highlights the muscles in your arms. Not that he notices.

“Darling,” he gasps, “are you ashamed of me?”

“Of course not. I just don’t like people knowing my shit.”

Astarion glances around and can see multiple pairs of eyes on you both. So rather than close the distance, he settles for eye-fucking you instead.

“Tonight, all you need to worry about is relaxing and letting me take care of you. Thoroughly. Properly. Until the only thought in that pretty little head of yours is my name.”

Even from this distance, he hears the rush of your blood and it makes him grin wider. You shake said pretty head at him, turning away under the pretense of fixing your clothes.

“So long as you bathe beforehand. Blood may be your thing, but it’s not mine.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

He’s got you flustered and can’t help laughing as you shoo him away. After a brief stop at his tent for fresh clothes and soap, he finds a secluded spot by the nearby lake and takes time to pamper himself.

This part of the seduction ritual he likes, finds comfort in. Washing away the grime and viscera from his skin and taking the time to wash his hair puts him in the proper mindset. While he can no longer see his reflection, you can and that’s all that matters. He knows his looks are unparalleled.

So he primps and preens, cleans himself thoroughly before stepping out to dry off. The full moon casts the world in an otherworldly glow and he stands for a spell, taking in the night. Less than a week ago he was scrambling for rats in the dark, trying to sate the ever gnawing hunger. Now he can stand in the sun, sample the delicious blood of a thinking creature.

What a difference a few days makes.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep inhale to steady himself, to focus. And by the time he exhales, his eyes are open and he’s ready.

Camp is still very much buzzing with activity when he returns, bare-chested with loose trousers. Your scent wafts his way, making him subconsciously turn in your direction. His eyes meet yours over the fire, and he throws you a wink. You smile and duck your head, something he never found endearing until that moment.

Just like all the other nights, he waits for the activity to die down, waits until almost everyone is asleep, before sneaking into your tent.

Except, this time you’re awake. Your back is to him as you sit, still and silent. At first, he wonders what you’re doing, until he recognizes the steady breathing that comes with your meditations.

Silently, he ties the tent closed before kneeling behind you. He sees your pointed ear twitch, knows you’re aware of his presence.

Astarion lays his hands on your shoulders and leans down to nuzzle your temple. Your body is tense. He can feel the knots even through your tunic. Carefully, he digs his thumbs into them, rubbing in circles which forces a soft moan out of you.

“You are far too tense, darling. I don’t think the meditations are working,” he says with a low chuckle, smirking at the way the skin of your neck raises with goosebumps.

You lean back against his chest, making it harder to keep massaging you. So he slides his hands down your arms to hold you instead.

Astarion isn’t one for hugging or cuddling, but this feels nice, having your weight on him like this. It only lasts a second. You lean forward once more, this time with your face in your hands. He lays a hand on your back, recognizing that you need a minute, and more than happy to give you such.

He feels slightly out of his element. Normally when he arrives for the seduction, it’s hasty and eager, with the mark throwing themselves at him. You aren’t doing that, you haven’t even turned around to face him.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you tell him, your voice muffled. “If you’re looking for something carefree and light, I’m sure you can find someone with less baggage.”

Astarion can’t help bursting into laughter. He pulls your arms down and leans around to look you in the eye. “Have we been traveling with the same companions?” he asks. “If you can find this mythical baggage-less person then I salute you because from where I’m sitting, we’re all a bunch of fucking weirdos.”

That breaks the tension in you. Laughing, you lean into him again and he savors the closeness, recognizing that it stirs that same unknown sensation within him. He kisses your neck not only to move things along but for another reason.

Yours is the first thinking-creature’s neck he’s ever sampled and the novelty is fairly potent. He’s left his mark on you, not once but several times. It’s enough to drive him to distraction. The scent of your skin causes his body to react, his mouth already salivating while his cock twitches with interest.

Astarion finds you relaxing while the time slips away, and it isn’t long before his hands are reaching for the laces of your tunic. He unties them with deliberate slowness, giving you every chance to stop him.

You don’t.

In fact, your hands join his to help, and when they are finally undone, you draw away to lift the tunic over your head.

Now you’re both shirtless and when your warm skin touches his it’s like a pleasant balm to his cold flesh. He continues lavishing your throat while his hands cup your breasts, thrilled at the way your nipples pebble under his thumbs. He kneads and tweaks, pinching until just on the edge of pain before backing off.

“Astarion?” you ask, voice already breathless and husky with desire.

“Mmm, yes?”

“If we do this, I only have one request.”

He’s not surprised at this, even anticipated as such. There’s always a request or demand of him and he will dutifully oblige. Anything to keep this going, to seal the deal.

“And what’s that, darling?”

“Stay with me after? At least, just for the night.”

That…is it?

Astarion draws away, prompting you to turn to face him. Your eyes are hooded, lips wet from being swiped by your tongue. But there is a vulnerability he has never seen before that has him answering immediately.

“I will stay,” he promises, and means it. “For tonight, I am yours and you are mine. Nothing else outside this tent exists. It’s just us.” He gently cradles your face. “Just this.”

You lean in and he captures your lips.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, meant to reassure you that your humble request will be fulfilled. But as it continues, it switches, changes into something else entirely. One of his hands drops to your trousers, yanking at the laces with the same fevered energy that’s taken over your mouths. He is suddenly filled with the urge to touch, to make you shudder and moan not for his sake, but for yours.

Astarion sees in his mind’s eye every choice, every decision you have had to make. Always for others and never for yourself. Hells, do you do anything for your own well-being?

He hasn’t seen it. And if this night with him is it, if being with him is how you want to indulge, he’s going to make damn sure he makes it worth it.

When his hand slips below your waistline, his fingers slide through the mound of curls to the petal-soft flesh waiting for him. Feeling the wetness on his fingertips makes his eyebrow raise as he breaks from your kisses.

“Already, darling? I’m flattered.”

You huff, flustered. “It’s my neck,” you mumble, prompting him to latch his mouth there once more. “It’s really sensitive.”

You gasp when his fingertips stroke through your folds, spreading your arousal with practiced ease.

Astarion has a realization. “All these nights, when you knew I was going to be paying you a visit,” he says. “Did you by any chance feel aroused?”

“Every fucking time.”

He slides a finger into you, relishing the low moan and how eagerly your body pulls him in. That explains the intense hard-ons and need to get off immediately after feeding on you. He was unknowingly drinking your arousal, which he plans to do in a very different context tonight.

You’re warm and wet, and the sound of your rushing blood is making it so difficult not to seek his—your marks. The ones he feeds from every time, the ones that never seem to fully fade even with healing magic.

Sliding his finger out, he presses firm circles around your neglected nub while his free hand reaches for your breasts again. Your chest heaves and your hips begin to rise and fall along with his ministrations. When he pushes two fingers into you, your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“Astarion!” you gasp.

“That’s it, darling. Let go of everything else. Just think about me.”

In this intimate moment, he becomes acutely aware of two things: one, his name has never sounded sweeter, and two, this is going to be different for him.

Astarion doesn’t find himself slipping away like he’s done in the past. Prior, his body would go on following the script while his brain retreated elsewhere. It was a part he knew all too well and had perfected over the centuries. A moment of disgust at himself then powering through just to get it done.

Yet, it’s not happening. Tonight, he is very aware of where he is and who he is with. Somehow having you be the one to moan his name is keeping him grounded, in the moment.

And he doesn’t want to lose that.

His fingers speed up, alternating between rubbing your nub and burrowing deep into that addictive warmth he wants around his cock. You’re gasping and moaning, seemingly uncaring if anyone hears.

Let them hear, he thinks. Let them know I’m the one making our fearless leader cum.

Suddenly, this angle isn’t right. It won’t serve his needs.

Because now that he’s aware of them, aware that he needs your body, needs your little gasps and moans, he won’t stop until you’re both in a breathless, mindless heap of body and limbs.

Astarion tries to draw his hand out of your trousers but you scramble to keep it there, until he nips at your ear and says, “Shh, shh, it’s alright. We just need to get a little comfortable.” Only then do you let him pull away.

He maneuvers you onto your back and is able to fully take in the delicious image you make. Eyes glassy with desire, lips parted, breasts moving as you try to catch your breath. Without warning, he grabs your throat, not hard. Just enough to angle your head up so he can steal a few more kisses.

Then his attention falls to your trousers and he has them off your legs a second later. You’re not wearing underwear, never bothered to put them on after your bath. Hooking his hands under your knees, he spreads you wide, takes his first look at all of you, and promptly descends.

Astarion doesn’t try to put on a show or warm you up with a few practiced licks. You are more than ready for him and he finds himself starved in a completely different way.

A welcomed way.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks greedily, humming with satisfaction when your thighs clamp around his head. It keeps him exactly where you want him, not that he plans to leave any time soon.

This taste of you is so different from your blood yet equally addicting. Heady and sweet, invading his senses until nothing else exists but you. His tongue snakes long your seam, parts your swollen lips, and seeks the hole he teased earlier.

When he finds it, your hips shoot up and he tongue-fucks you, eyes drifting up to meet yours as he does.

You’re propped on your elbows, watching his every move. The vision you make is breathtaking and as he watches your head fall back and your arms buckle, he smirks because he is the one making you feel this way.

Astarion slides a finger into you, this time deeper than the other angle allowed. Your thighs are already quivering and the moment he crooks his finger in just the right way, your arms finally give out and you lay flat on your back.

Hands tentatively find their way into his curls but instead of pulling like he anticipates, they stroke and burrow, holding on for the sake of staying grounded, not for control.

A second finger joins the first and his mouth returns to your aching nub, sucking as greedily as he wants. You’re shaking and moaning, your hips starting to grind against his face the longer he goes on. With the tadpole, he can sense you’re still holding back, still not entirely lost yet. He tries to get you there, increases the pressure of his mouth, and rubs harder against the special place inside you he’s found.

With every twitch, he feels you let go a little more. And when you’re almost there, he switches tactics. For the second time, he reaches for your mind, tries to show you images. This time of yourself, of what he is seeing right then and there.

A beautiful, wanton, deity of a person whom he worships. At least for right now, in this moment. One whose legs fit perfectly over his shoulders and whose shining eyes have him transfixed.

But then what happens next fundamentally changes Astarion and turns his world upside down.

Because, now he isn’t seeing you. He is watching a pale elf with glowing red eyes whose mouth is devouring your slit. Whose cheeks are ruddy with fresh boar’s blood and whose white curls are wrapped around dark fingers.

Astarion is seeing himself for the first time in two hundred years.

And bloody hell he’s magnificent. Not just because he’s beautiful but because he can feel what you’re feeling when you look at him. He can sense the warmth, affection, lust, and fierce protection you’re experiencing here and now, with him.

He’s already achieved his goal. Now he can move on to more important things.

He draws an orgasm out of you only minutes later, not needing you to beg. Not when you’ve given him yet another precious gift.

What a breathtaking sight the two of you make. You, bowing your back into a beautiful arch, and him, sucking greedily at your clit while his fingers stroke deep inside you.

Astarion comes up for air only when your sweaty legs glide off his shoulders, leaving you spread and satisfied.

“How’s that mind of yours now?” he asks, licking your slick off his lips.

It takes a moment for you to answer. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” you gasp, a hand pressed to your forehead as you try to collect yourself.

Astarion smirks and pushes himself up onto his knees, carefully slipping his fingers out of you. He can feel your walls clench, automatically trying to keep him there. He’s tempted but has a better idea.

“I told you, I’m quite good.”

While you lay there, watching, waiting, he makes a show of unlacing his trousers. By now his cock is desperate for attention, straining against the fabric. Each move he makes is purposeful, each look calculated, letting you know exactly what he plans to do next.

He thinks of the previous nights when he crawled into your tent and slid up behind you. And once his trousers are gone and his cock is free, full and leaking at the tip, he nods his head.

“Turn on your side, darling.”

He strokes himself while you do, using your arousal to make the glide of his hand easier, better. He lets every lustful thought invade his senses, lets his eyes shamelessly rake over your body as he realizes this is a fantasy he will get to live out.

Astarion knows this night is about you, should be about you, but he can’t help but feel that it’s now also about him. About having something, even if it’s for a night, that gets to be his.

He spoons up behind you, tucking his cock snug under your backside. His hand comes around and slides between your legs once more, picking up right where he left off. You gasp at the sensitivity, your body tensing for only a second until you manage to relax again.

This time with the added bonus of you rocking against him.

Time loses all meaning. He can not be certain how long you both lay this way, grinding and moving together while his fingers make you cum for a second time. It takes longer but absolutely worth every moment. His mouth is permanently attached to your throat lavishing it in kisses and love bites, leaving even more marks. Not as deep as the mark. He'll only drink from you once he’s good and ready.

And when neither of you can take it anymore, when the friction of your skin isn’t enough and you’re positively soaked, he whispers into your ear.

“Lift your leg.”

You do and he takes hold of himself, coats himself in your slick again, then pushes into you with a smooth, quick, thrust.

A perfect fit.

Being inside you, having his cock enveloped by that fucking heat is better than he would have ever thought. After that, he can’t take his time, won’t until he’s emptied every last drop into you.

Your moans are constant, muffled as you bury your face into your thin pillow, your hand twisting the bedroll, reminding him of how he twisted the soil when he had his first taste of you.

Taste.

Gods does he want to taste you again, drink you as he continues pounding into your eager body. As if struck by the same thought, you reach back to slide your hand into his curls.

“Bite me,” you urge. “I need you too. I can’t…”

He hears the rest of the thought in his head.

I can’t cum again if you don’t.

Astarion bites down on the mark, having half a mind to press down on your swollen nub at the same time. You cry out this time. Loudly. Properly. Not his name yet even more beautiful, a cry of pure ecstasy.

Your blood seeps into his mouth just as a fresh wave of your slick coats his cock, and he is done for.

Thrusting wildly, still rubbing your sore clit, Astarion spills himself into you, lost in a frenzy of blood and lust. He’s aware enough to yank out his fangs but after that, it's a blur as he sucks at your throat while his cock spasms and fills you with his seed.

It's too much and coats his lap and your thighs while trickles of blood dribble down your neck. He’s aware of you pushing his hand away from the overstimulation. So he grabs your hip for leverage during his final, weak thrusts. Spent, you both cry out a final time and then grow still.

Eventually, you roll onto your stomach while Astarion collapses onto your back, crushing you against the bedroll.

You don’t seem to mind in the slightest, letting him lazily lick away any remnants of blood. Only then do you hum with satisfaction stretching underneath him as much as the position will allow.

“Fuck, Astarion.”

“That you did, love. That. You. Did.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss or a nibble.

“You were right,” you purr, sounding infinitely more relaxed than he’s ever heard. “I needed that.”

He places a final kiss to the mark before rolling onto his back. “Mmm, me too.” He tucks his hand under his head, staring up at the canvas of the tent with a lazy, satisfied grin. Like a cat who’s just found a sunbeam.

You roll to face him, draping yourself across his chest in a graceless heap. Your face is glowing with post-coital bliss, eyes still shining as they take him in. You reach up to wipe away a spot of blood from the corner of his lips, which he sucks off your thumb.

Astarion is aware you both should clean up but he can’t bring it in himself to care. Your scent hangs around him, not just your blood but your arousal and release. When mixed with his own, it stirs something primal inside, a sense of claim he’s not sure he has a right to feel.

But he’s far too satisfied to question it.

“That was amazing,” you slur. Already your eyes are drooping and your breathing evens out.

Astarion draws you close, feels around for a blanket he manages to drape over you both. “You’re amazing,” he responds, and is surprised he means it.

Even he is ready to trance, the normal rush of adrenaline after feeding is gone, channeled into the thrusting of his hips during those last precious seconds before utter bliss.

For once, no thoughts or machinations enter his mind. Unless it’s your soft body atop his, he has no interest, lazily stroking your back until you fall asleep.

And as he lets his trance carry him away, he has one final thought, an observation his waking mind will remember vividly the next morning when he finds you in the same position, curled around each other even in sleep.

Having you in his arms seems to be another perfect fit.

---

Taglist: @frankie-mercury @miniminx

[2amriize]

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ MTL RIIZE — most likely to get jealous

most Sungchan Wonbin Anton Eunseok Sohee Seunghan Shotaro least

⊹₊ ⋆MOST

ᯓ★ Sungchan I mean… it's Sungchan. I feel like he wouldn't be able to handle seeing you have any kind of interaction with another guy; he'd get jealous instantly. And it would be way too obvious—he doesn't know how to hide it. The way he looks at the guys you talk to gives him away. His way of showing he's jealous would be to get close to you, put his hands on you, or leave a kiss on your lips; basically making it clear to everyone that you’re his.

ᯓ★ Wonbin Wonbin also gets jealous very easily, but that's because he doesn't understand why you do things with others that you could be doing with him. "Am I not enough for you?" is something you'd hear Wonbin say a lot. He wouldn't just be jealous of other guys but of everyone, because he wants to do everything with you; he wants you all to himself.

ᯓ★ Anton I think Anton would also be more likely to get jealous for a reason similar to Wonbin's—he wants to do everything with you. He simply loves spending time with you, so every time you say you're going out with a friend, he can’t help but pout at home, saying, "Why don't you do those things with me but you do them with them?"

ᯓ★ Eunseok Eunseok gets jealous, but only if he sees you paying more attention to other guys than to him, and he doesn't make it very obvious. If you're talking about a character you find attractive, he'd act like he doesn't care, but inside he'd feel a bit jealous. He usually wouldn’t say anything, just stay quiet, but sometimes he might say something like, "Why do you get so excited about characters that don’t exist? I’m the one who’s real..."

ᯓ★Sohee Sohee would also feel jealous in some situations, but it would quickly pass when he thinks about how much you two love each other. Even though he wouldn’t like seeing you talk to other guys, he knows that at the end of the day, you’re a couple and you’re his. It’s true that sometimes you’ve noticed Sohee getting jealous, but when he does, you find it the cutest thing ever because he tries to act serious (which he obviously isn’t).

ᯓ★ Seunghan He’s simply a ray of sunshine. I mean, there’s no malice in him. The most he’s done when he saw you talking to another guy was to join the conversation and learn more about your friend, and then tell him to take good care of you because you’re his girlfriend, and he wants the best for you. The only time you saw Seunghan get jealous was when you won a Shin Chan plushie that he’d been trying to get all night. Seeing the way he looked at you and the plushie, you quickly gave it to him, and he instantly smiled again.

ᯓ★ Shotaro Another ray of sunshine, there’s nothing bad about him. What is jealousy? Shotaro has no idea because he’s never felt it. He just wants the best for you; he wants you to be happy. He loves making friends with your friends and meeting new people, and he always greets them with a smile when he sees them. If he ever saw a guy trying to hit on you, he wouldn’t feel jealous or anything like that because he knows you’re HIS girlfriend. However, he’d approach you the moment you seemed uncomfortable to let the guy know that you already have a boyfriend, giving you a small kiss on the forehead.

LEAST ⊹₊ ⋆

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @cherryishxo @gacktsa @totheseok

[wisteria-lodge]

I LOVE the version of Lucius in your fic Prison of the Phoenix. He's different from a lot of portrayals I've seen. Why did you decide to write him how you did?

A lot of the fun of writing a book-accurate fix-it fic comes from taking the events of the book, and removing JKRs (simplistic, misleading, sometimes just weird) narrative framing. Slytherins = baddies, Gryffindors = goodies, you know. 

This is especially fun with Lucius Malfoy, who just like… isn’t very evil? Chamber of Secrets is his most villainous book, and I’ll get to that, but otherwise? He tries (unsuccessfully) to get the animal that attacked his kid killed. He donates to hospitals (but in like, an evil way.) He is a hilariously incompetent Death Eater, and then he's Voldemort’s punching bag. 

That’s kind of the point of Lucius. He looks the part. He commits to the aesthetics of the thing, with the hair and the peacocks and the snake-wand-cane. He likes the mystique of walking into a room and knowing that you know (but can’t prove) he’s a dark wizard. It allows him to be… kinda lazy. He can coast on his family name, money, reputation, privilege. I really think that if you sat Lucius Malfoy down and asked him to walk you through all the wizard-supremacy talking points he wouldn’t be able to do it. He’ll toss around words like “mudblood” and “mudblood-lover” no problem, but in the end he doesn’t really care. Lucius is not a true believer. The way the world is set up benefits him tremendously and he doesn’t want Voldemort back. That’s just text:

“Use your brains, Ron,” said Bill. “If they really were Death Eaters… I bet they’d be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they’d ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives… I don’t reckon he’d be over-pleased with them, do you?”

Lucius and friends had too much to drink at a sporting event, put on the old outfits (again with the aesthetics) and started levitating muggles. Which obviously isn’t GOOD, but they’re not killing or torturing, or furthering any kind of agenda. It’s important that Barty is so insulted and pissed off by the way they’re basically playing Dark Wizard that he casts the Dark Mark to “show [them] what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it.” Which kicks off most of the events of the book. 

Prison of the Phoenix is going to have a companion, parallel fic told from Harry’s POV (tentatively titled Harry Potter and Malfoy’s Suspicious Interest in Werewolves.) Lucius does show up in that one, and I was honestly surprised by how much more frightening and intimidating he is when filtered through Harry’s perspective. Because with a Severus POV… when Severus is used to spending time around Voldemort, Greyback, Bellatrix, honestly Dumbledore and Sirius Black…. Lucius is not scary. Lucius wants to buy presents for his son, go to high-profile events with his beautiful wife, and wear a variety of snake-themed accessories and extravagant hats. 

I wanted a kind of college-roommates-who-stayed-friends feel for the Severus + Lucius relationship, because they are friends. Sirius calls Severus Lucius’ “lapdog,” and Narcissa calls him Lucius’ “oldest friend.” Lucius is also part of the welcoming committee when Severus is first sorted into Slytherin. He’s five years older (I think Jason Isaacs is the only Harry Potter adult the same age as the character he plays), which would have affected the dynamic between him and Severus a lot in school. Personally, I think it makes sense for Lucius to be a little protective of this brilliant half-blood kid with no money. And as an adult, there’s some guilt mixed in there as well. Severus probably would not have been sucked into the Voldemort thing nearly as deep or nearly as fast if it hadn’t been for Lucius, and the war kind of destroyed him. Lucius remembers a younger Severus who was modding potions, inventing spells, coming up with cheeky nicknames for himself, and that person is gone. That’s a big part of the reason he’s so invested in the Severus/Remus relationship in Prison of the Phoenix. Something about Remus has managed to wake up parts of that younger Severus, and Lucius thinks that’s fantastic.

I also think Lucius might be the character who knows Voldemort the best. He’s one of the only Death Eaters who Voldemort calls by their first name (Bellatrix, Severus, and Draco are the others) and he’s weirdly familiar with his “slippery friend” Lucius, addressing the whole speech about how/why he returned to him, for some reason? Anything that helps Voldemort make sense as a person I’ll take, and to me it makes sense that young Tom Riddle charmed Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius’ father, first. The dates are right, and he’s exactly Tom’s type - rich, pureblood, probably easily flattered (let’s be honest) and sitting on a pile of magical artifacts. It’s very Hepzibah Smith vibes, is what I’m saying. And rich, posh, popular seventeen year olds don’t join cults. But if Lucius’ father was already in a cult… 

It also makes sense to me that Tom Riddle got sort of stuck when he killed Marvolo Gaunt, and made his first horcrux at sixteen. He has this fascination with sixteen year old pureblood wizards (so Barty, Draco, and Lucius would have fit this profile.) He sort of wants to be them, but also sort of wants to break them? It’s messy, and complicated. It’s creepy and compelling, that Lucius is aging but this spectre that’s dominated his life isn’t. 

And so when Lucius gives Ginny the diary in Book 2… it makes sense that he’s just trying to get rid of it. He was just at Borgin and Burkes selling dark artifacts, but knows that the diary is worse. He needs to make sure it can’t possibly be traced back to him. So he gives it to the daughter of the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. (It is an enchanted muggle artifact, after all.) If Arthur Weasley finds it and deals with it, fine. If Ginny is discovered with it in a way that blows up in Arthur’s face, also fine. If it does get to Hogwarts and does open the Chamber of Secrets - well Draco is going to be fine, and it might undermine Dumbledore. If it was really important to Lucius that the diary rid the school of muggleborns… he would have given it to Draco had him use it. Or given it to Draco, and told him to leave it somewhere for an enemy to find. But Lucius doesn’t do that, because he doesn’t want Voldemort back and his politics just aren’t that important to him. 

The one trait I did give Lucius that doesn’t go back to the books is just being madly in love with Narcissa. Lucius is an unrepentant wife guy. (And I mean… it doesn’t contradict anything. There isn’t anything in the books to suggest that he isn’t a wife guy.)  I honestly did that for structural reasons. I’m writing a romance with Severus, who has the emotional awareness of a stack of roofing tiles. He just really, really needed a friend he could ask for relationship advice.