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tj-dragonblade · 2 months ago

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[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

#TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Bingo 2024

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glorismorningstar · 4 months ago

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THE LION CHRONICLES

Pairings: Lute x f!reader, Carmilla Carmine x f! situationship!reader, fatherfigure!Alastor x f!reader

Summary: Now that Alastor's back, Y/N joins him at the Overlord meeting, where more information about the recent extermination is revealed. Later, her relationship with Carmilla has an interesting development.

Warnings: WLW, casual relationship, unrequited love, pain, heartbreak, lesbian smut (cw - fingering, oral, mommy kink, strap on, tail pulling), angst, violence, death, homophobia

A/N: I apologise in advance for everything, this part was so deep and interesting to write, contains a lot of character development and each part will contain more drama than the last *cough* episode 6 *cough cough*

| PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 |

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"How much higher do you want it?" I ask as my tail wraps around the side of the ladder for balance, hands holding up the banner we made together.

"A little bit more... there,” Charlie says and got up from the other side of the ladder to hammer it down as Vaggie holds the ladder still. "That looks perfect! Aah! I'm so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel!"

"Um, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago." Vaggie points out.

"Well, I haven't seen him try any of that in here." Just as Charlie finishes the sentence, Pentious comes in with his Egg Bois, wheeling in something that looks like a cannon, but... fancier. Huh.

"What the Hell is that?”

"Oh, hello, purple female. It's my new invention, the SkinFlayer 11.000!" He hisses proudly, tipping his hat as the eggs chase each other around the room. One of them begins climbing up my tail and I yelp, then chuckled quietly and let him play with the fluffy tuft, swishing it from side to side. “I'm really looking forward to shooting the other residents."

"What? Why?"

"Everyone is being too nice. Obviously it must be a lie. I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared!" Ah, yeah, trust issues. That's a bitch. Been there, currently doing it. “Ooh, the new parts of my machine are here."

I turn to look at the doorway and beam, it was Clara and Odette, Carmilla's daughters. But as expected, they're delivering weapons to Pentious.

Damn it.

"Y/N!"

"Hello, girls." I smile and trot over to give each of them a hug. I look at the weapons and at Pentious before directing my gaze back to them with a nervous chuckle, “What's going on here?"

"We got a delivery at the Hazbin Hotel. We assumed you'd know something about it." Clara speaks as she unloads the boxes, while Odette asks for the signature. I run a hand over my face and sigh, this is exactly what I was supposed to stop from happening.

"Yeah, so did I." I sigh, burying a hand in my mane and looking at Vaggie with an apologetic grimace.

"Thank you for your business. Enjoy your Carmine purchase."

"Carmine? As in Carmilla Carmine? You're buying parts from an Overlord?"

"So, Y/N, are you coming to the meeting today?" Clara asks me. Since Alastor is back, I don't know how much he'd need my help, but then again, I wouldn't mind. It's not like I have a lot to do right now anyway.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I am. Tell your mother I said hi."

As soon as they leave, I redirect my attention to the Egg Bois playing with my tail. Apparently some others joined in while I was talking to Carmilla's daughters and began following me everywhere. I giggle and wag my tail for them to chase, leaping around the room and being extra careful not to squish them. One of them catches my tail and I smile, swishing it to curl around my hip so that I can look at the Egg properly. "Hello, little one. Do you have a name?”

"It's Frank, ma'am." The little creature says in a silly, goofy voice, which makes me giggle and shake his hand with my finger.

"My name is Y/N.” I introduce myself with a smile, eyes sparkling with cuteness overload when he grabs my finger.

"Hello, Y/N!"

"You absolutely cannot build weapons in this Hotel. No one wants to kill you. People are being nice to you because they want you to feel welcome!" Vaggie lectures with a raised finger. She gives off mom energy, I bet she and Charlie would make great parents one day.

Both Sir Pentious and I turn to look at the other members of the group: Husk is chugging on a bottle of booze in the bar and peeks at the serpent, then extends his middle finger; Angel Dust does the same, and Nifty stops her dusting to look in our direction with a creepy look that terrifies me to my very soul. And don't get me started on Alastor.

"Mhm, I have my doubts." Pentious hisses.

"Well, it's true. You have to trust us." Trust is a tricky thing. It's not easy to do so again after misplacing it so many times. Surprisingly, the one that taught me that was Sera. She first betrayed my trust when she agreed to punish Lucifer; she's the one in charge, the one that's supposed to preach forgiveness and generosity, yet she destroyed the life of a man that grew up with me - with us. The second time was when she approved the extermination. She'd be willing to murder human souls, men, women, children, all in an attempt to protect us? From what? And worse, she's the reason Lute puts herself in such danger by coming down here every year.

I don't know why I hide from her every extermination day. To be fair, I'm hiding

from them, not her. Adam, that frat boy of a commander, Celeste, that coward that resorted to homophobia when her tiny peanut brain couldn't come up with a comeback, and of course, all of her posse that tore my wings off and threw me down here... ugh, stop. I don't even have the courage to face my girlfriend now. She's an exorcist angel, she murders the damned for a living. What would she think of me if the sweet, (somewhat) well behaved girl she fell in love with became... this? A sinner.

I think that's why I never contacted Lucifer or Vaggie when I first got here. Lucifer is my childhood best friend, my partner-in-crime, and when he fell, I was far beyond devastated. I didn't know what I'd do without him, he's almost like my brother. We'd sneak out of the palace past curfew and get in trouble all the time. I tried everything to keep him from falling and I failed. I just don't think I'd have the courage to face him. And it's the same with Vaggie. We used to be friends when she first joined the army and got pretty close, and then I lost her, too. I ended up coming in contact with her when Alastor dragged me here, but I was still scared to death.

"Hey, Y/N, are you joining us for trust exercises today?" Charlie asks with a grin and slings an arm around my shoulder, which brings a smile to my face. She's Lucifer's daughter. My dearest friend's daughter. I'm so proud of her.

"As much as I'd like to solve my trust issues, I have a meeting to attend, dear.” I reply and ruffle her hair affectionately, chuckling softly and fixing my black and purple bow tie before walking upstairs to go get Alastor and leave.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Rosie and the other Overlords are already there when Alastor, Zestial and I get to the meeting room. The first thing I do is lock eyes with Carmilla: there she stands, at the head of the table and with her daughters on either side of her. She flashes me a small smile from across the room, which I reciprocate and also give her a small wave. She chuckles quietly and returns the gesture, the affectionate glint in her eyes making my cheeks go pink as my ears pin back against my head in shyness. I smile at her once more before looking for a seat. I was hoping to sit next to Alastor, as usual, but he and Rosie must have lots of catching up to do, so I leave them be and opt for the other side of the table. The first chairs next to the head of the table are her daughters’, so I leave Clara her seat and begin to pull out the chair beside her. That's when I feel a big hand on my shoulder and immediately recognize it as Carmilla, her touches always feel like a wider than usual span of warmth. My ears perk up at the contact and at the sound of her angelic steel ballet slippers clicking on the floor and I smile at her once again. The Overlord rests her other hand on a fancier chair to the right of her own spot and offers, “You can sit here if you want.”

There are only two chairs like these in the room, one on either side of her. The left one is normally occupied by Zestial, with whom she's really close, and she's offering me the other seat. Me. She wants me to sit with her and her family. My heart swells and my pupils soften even further, now looking like the sweetest kitten ever. “Really?”

“Mhm. Come, corazón, we're about to begin.” She replies quietly and gently pulls me along, letting me sit on the chair beside her as she prepares to start the meeting. While our situationship isn't some big secret, she doesn't like public displays of affection very much. She says she's afraid of making me a target and wants to protect me - the irony of my secret draws out bitterness from me. Regardless, her habit of calling me by my term of endearment in her native language fails to falter, which is why she kept her voice down while talking to me.

“Welcome, Hell sovereign Overlords.” Carmilla begins as I take my seat, silencing the quiet chatter of the other Overlords. The soft and familiar metal clicking of her ballet slippers soothes me, my ears twitching towards the sound each time she takes a step. “I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city. Together, you own millions of souls.”

I watch her with a relatively neutral expression from beside her, curious eyes veiling the silent admiration underneath. I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes, she's wonderful. I've struggled to connect with her in the past outside of sexual encounters, and I have no idea why. It's not even her issue, it's mine. I'd never want a relationship that's just physical, it's outside of my comfort zone… but then again, so is being with someone like this. Physical, yes, but the emotional side of our relationship is just hard for me. I guess I was so convinced I'd spend eternity with Lute for more than thirty years that I struggle with the fact that it won't come true. I know that the other day she was about to ask me to be her girlfriend before we got interrupted, but subconsciously, a part of me was almost… relieved she didn't? Ugh, what is wrong with me?

“Alastor?” The call of his name snaps me out of my train of thought, attention shifting to my father figure as my ears perk up once again. I don't have parents. My father is technically God because he created me, but I've never met him, and while Sera raised me and was sort of a maternal figure to me, she's my older sister - with whom I have numerous issues - I was never able to make that strong of a bond with her as I did with Emily. So I guess that's why I'm so attached to Alastor and Rosie.

“Yes, I know, I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering.” He replies and I roll my eyes with fondness. I know for sure he was trying to look mysterious by planting Carmilla the opportunity to ask questions only to give her a vague answer. The poor dear.

“Not really. But welcome back in any case.” The small angry radio noises almost draw a snicker from me. He looks so annoyed right now. Poor guy, she could have humored him, at least.

With a snap of her fingers, Odette hands her a clipboard and she turns on the presentation as Carmilla keeps speaking. “This year's extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost. With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we-”

I jump in my seat for a split second when the door slams open and I roll my eyes at the obnoxious, thickly accented voice chattering on the phone, suppressing an annoyed growl.

Oh, fuck me.

It's Velvette. She appears to be on the phone with one of her dear, dear colleagues - who are technically supposed to be here, for the record. “I've got it handled, Vox. Are you doubting me? Really? Me? That's what I thought.”

I hate to say it, but out of the three Vees, she's the most responsible. No, less worse would be a better suited definition. Between a porn director, the host of a video podcast that brainwashes people into doing his bidding and a fun-sized influencer, I guess I'd have to go with the latter. But that doesn't make her any less annoying. “Yes, I know. They're all a joke.”

The annoyance and contempt on the three Carmines’ faces is mirrored in my own as well as Zestial's. My ears pin back against my head at the insult, not for myself, but for the others. She's like a fussy child. And Carmilla less than deserves this bullshit at her own meeting. “Thank you, V. See you soon. Kisses, darling.”

I smell lesbian.

“Nice of you to join us, Velvette. Will your… colleagues be joining?” The sincerity in her tone is completely lost and with reason. I can sense it in the way she emphasizes the word colleagues and how the deprecation she feels is written all over her face, regardless of how much she tries to appear professional.

Oh, say no, say no, say no…

“No. They have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag who thinks she's tough shit. I'm here to represent.” And so it begins. While Carmilla only narrows her eyes at the jab, I'm not that graceful when my loved ones are offended. My ears draw back and my tail sways behind me as I bare my teeth, pupils slitting while a soft growl rumbles from my throat. It's barely noticeable, but not to someone right beside me.

“Charming.” She mutters as she turns around, taking advantage of the fact that the table is tall enough to conceal her hands and brushing the back of her fingers along my arm in a gentle, soothing caress, which brings a flutter to my stomach as my posture relaxes. My ears and tail return to their usual position and my pupils soften once again, but the protective pout on my lips remains. No one fucks with my loved ones.

“So, as I was saying, we need to discuss-” Carmilla begins once again, but is interrupted by Velvette waving her hand once again. Ugh. “Yes?”

“On the subject of discussion…” she begins, then pulls something from out of nowhere and throws it on the table, golden splashes splattering on the surface.

It's an exorcist's head.

While a collective gasp rises from the group, a shuddering exhale falls from my parted lips as my eyes land on the severed head of the angel, ears drooping and eyes wide with terror. Exorcists… they can die? Oh, no, no, no, no… what about Lute? Is she safe? Who did this? How did they do this?

Wait, I know that mask.

She was a member of Celeste's posse.

One of Celeste's buddies was murdered?

I remember them. Celeste is a sergeant in the exorcist army, above the other soldiers but below Lute. The rest of her posse is only made of soldiers and they're all kinds of trouble, but one of their worst faults is homophobia.

“Do you take medicine for homosexuality?”

“What kind of a Seraph are you, tempted by something so unholy?”

“You and Lute have been getting really close lately.”

“It's just some trend, it's not real. You're just pretending.”

“I wonder what you call the lieutenant when you're alone…”

The very thought makes my skin crawl. One time, Lute started a fight with them because they wouldn't stop insulting me. Luckily, Adam was smart enough to break it up, which I only think he did because Lute was involved, otherwise he would have been thrilled. Lute ended up with a broken wing while Celeste had multiple bruises and a broken nose. No one had ever defended me that fiercely before.

“Where did you get this?” Carmilla isn't nearly as appalled as I thought she would be. She looks somewhere between surprised and frustrated, yet at the same time neither. I can't tell what she's thinking right now, what she's doing. Her posture looks more tense than before, her eyes narrowed and her white irises smaller, more slitted. Her daughters appear far more surprised, but not as much as I expected two young adults to be either. Did I miss something?

“We found it during extermination day. If these holy rollers can be killed, the game has changed. We can take the fight to them.” Absolutely not. Declaring war on the Heavens is about the dumbest idea I can possibly think of, not only because I want to protect my family and loved ones, but because this happened once before, and it's the reason the extermination even exists. Well, that and that man child Adam and Sera with her power and her lack of moral compass. “The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan-”

Her suggestions are interrupted by Zestial and his aggressive slurping on that cup of tea. The sound, annoying but not as much as Velvette's voice, drags on for a few seconds as the room falls silent. The Overlord then puts the cup down on the saucer and interweaves his hands together, then speaks, “If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meager proof, thou art far more foolish than I be thought.”

“Meager proof? It's a dead fucking exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive.” She scoffs. It's good to see that Zestial and I are on the same page, all I need to do is get the others on our side, too. “You going blind, old man?”

“We know not how this perished, mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing, mightn't they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?”

“I agree with Zestial. If I recall correctly, the very reason the Heavens approved the yearly exorcism is to punish the population of Hell for attempting a coup d'etat. This can only make things worse.”

The soft muttering of agreement that rises from the room is my greatest victory of the day. I think of Sera and what loads she bears on her own, regardless of how angry I am at her, I think of young, naive little Emily and how she still thinks that Heaven is perfect, I think of Lute and her safety and her happiness, despite believing that she's probably already moved on. I wouldn't blame her if she has, it's been twenty seven years, but her wellbeing will always be my priority.

My eyes flicker to Carmilla and now I'm sure something's up. She hasn't pitched in with any opinion on this, she didn't look shaken in the slightest when the other Overlord revealed the severed head, and now she looks like she's hiding something. Her eyes are squinted and she's looking to the side with a small pout on her lips, likely lost in her thoughts. Is there a secret afoot? When she meets my gaze, I look at her with soft, gentle eyes and make a soft quizzical noise just loud enough for her to hear, something between a grunt and a purr. What surprises me most, however, is how a flash of guilt appears in her eyes before she schools her expression once again and adverts her eyes from me. It was her, wasn't she? I'm not angry at her for killing the angel, because I'm sure she has a reasonable explanation for that. She's not the type to act on impulse or violence unless it's a last resort. But it just bothers me a bit that she didn't talk to me about this - not that I'm in a position to judge, anyway - but I was hoping she'd trust me with something like this.

My eyes flit back to Velvette just in time to notice the look on her face when she sees Carmilla acting odd, and that's exactly what makes me tense up with protectivity again. “Oh, I get it. So grandpa and the scaredy cat are too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?”

Then she gets up in Zestial's face to attack him, which annoys me even further. And why does she have to step on the table? She might be small, but that's so rude. “What's the matter, fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for-”

♪ You better show some respect

Check your behavior

No one speaks to Zestial that way ♪

Whoa.

Carmilla has never snapped once in the entire time I've known her. I'd say it's not a good look on her but I'd be completely lying if I did, because she looks so unbelievably attractive. Oh, my God, how did I ever pull a woman like her? She's just so… ugh. She's strong and dominant and gorgeous. I want to fling myself into the sun right now and I'm pretty sure I'm blushing. I'm having a lesbian panic in the middle of the most serious meeting of my life and the small familiar tingle between my legs isn't helping much either. Okay, this is not good. Alright, do something normal. I cross my legs to shift my position while trying to soothe some of the heat between my thighs by subtly squeezing them together, then rub my jaw with my hand to cover up the soft pink color rushing to my cheeks.

♪ Did you expect us

To sit back and take your

Insolent, brazen display? ♪

I don't even pretend I'm paying attention to what Velvette is saying, because why would I listen to some British chippy when I can daydream about my girlfriend? The way she defends me and Zestial makes her look so hot. She has that determined pout and that protective glare in her scarlet eyes… I swear that sometimes it's like she doesn't even know how gorgeous she is. Somehow, our first kiss comes to mind.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

This meeting was longer than expected. I've been sitting in this chair for almost two hours and my ass is square. I get up and lean back against the back support of the chair, my vertebrae cracking with a satisfying pop. I hear her soft chuckle and my ears perk up at the sound, so gentle and brief yet meaningful to my ears. The other Overlords already left, it's just the two of us and I have to put my paperwork in order because it was a little disorganized today. “Do you need help with that?”

“Oh, no, that's okay. Don't trouble yourself.” I say with a casual wave of the hand and a small smile, endeared by her kindness. She's sweet, I like that.

“Ah, it's no trouble.” Carmilla replies, moving to stand beside me as she joins me in fumbling with the messy paper sheets. She's pretty close to me, and she's actually like eight feet tall which is so hot and only serves to thicken the tension simmering between us. My ears go flat against my head every time my tiny hands brush against her bigger ones and sparks shoot up my body and heart. I haven't felt like this in a long, long while. It's almost been thirty years, yet I'm still grieving a life I'm never going to have with a woman I'm never going to see again. I've dated Lute for so long, long enough to still own the engagement ring I bought her before I fell. It's damn time I move on, I bet she already has years ago.

“Here.” My thoughts are interrupted when she hands me half the handful of papers. Oh, thank god.

“Oh- thank you.” I reply and smile softly at her, tail wagging behind me as I take the papers and rest them atop the other half of the pile. The silence is almost deafening, begging to be broken as our eyes meet once again. The glow of her ruby sclerae has me entranced for a few moment, my own pupils dilating with awe and attraction as my ears pin back against my head once again. She looks so pretty right now.

I swallow thickly and clear my throat, wussing out as I scratch the back of my neck and point to the doorway and take a few nervous steps forward, “I should- um-” For fuck's sake, why don't I want to be with her? What's wrong with me? I know I'm sexually attracted to her, but it can't be just that, can it? I'm incapable of having purely physical relationships. I do feel affection for her, I genuinely do, but it's not as… strong as I would have hoped. Even so, this is the most attracted I've been to someone in the last twenty-seven years. I hear the metal clinking of her shoes and her hand around my wrist stops me. “Y/N, hang on.”

“Hmm?”

“Would it…” she begins, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. The fact that she might have doubts, too, comforts me greatly. It doesn't have to be a serious thing so fast, right? “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

She's asking me for consent. That makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. I look up at her with puppy eyes and nod, ears drawing back in fluster. “Yeah. Yeah, it would.”

In account of our height difference, I get on my tip toes and she tilts her head down, hand cupping my face before she gently locks lips with me. The kiss is soft, tentative, and I can sense she hasn't done this in a while either. Since she has two daughters and a company, she probably doesn't have much time for a relationship, which is cool because to be honest, casual is the best I can do right now. My tail swishes up to rest on her waist and I feel the shiver that runs up her spine when the fluffy brown tuft brushes against her lower back. When we pull back, our cheeks are flushed and her eyes are still closed for a second longer than mine. “That was nice.”

“Yeah… it was.”

There's a moment of pause where we're just looking in each other's eyes, and then in a split second, like magnets attracting each other with unbelievable force, we lunge at each other until our lips collide, this time more aggressively as our tongues slide against each other and a few soft noises escape both of us.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

♪ You and the Vees are inane and uninformed

Smug wannabes who don't need when you've been warned ♪

Her voice pulls me from my thoughts once again and my focus zeroes back in on the meeting, ears once again pulling back at how beautiful she looks. I love how the black and white strands of hair flop and curl over her forehead like that. It looks so cute.

♪ Oops, did I strike a nerve?

‘Cause when I brought out the angel's head

Couldn't help but observe

That your wrinkled face was turning red ♪

The way Velvette keeps attacking Carmilla like that makes my blood boil. Does she have any idea what kind of allegation this is - regardless of whether or not it's true? It's really grave to accuse someone of murdering an angel, and an Overlord no less. I hate the way she's getting under her skin. I see how her teeth are gritted and her nails dig into the table, the way her glare is piercing and frustrated, how her body almost twitches. It makes my ears droop with sadness, yet they pull back immediately when Velvette starts getting closer. My posture tenses and my tail stiffens with each step forward she takes, teeth baring as well as my pupils slit once again.

♪ And why are you avoiding war?

That's what the guns you sell are for

Thanks to my being respectless

One thing I'm starting to suspect is

You know why this angel's headless

Do you have a disclosure? ♪

♪ This meeting's over! ♪

While the two are standing nose to nose, the rest of the Overlords and I are just giving dead stares and grimaces, the pause giving way to an awkward silence as my eyes seem unable to break off from Carmilla, who has genuinely never looked so hot before. Okay, stop it. Not the time. “Hmm, fine. Safe travel back to the nursing home, fuckers. Kiss my ass.”

“What the hell? We literally just got here.”

“Mother?” Odette utters softly, and Carmilla gestures for us to follow her in response.

The three of us follow her to her office and the girls sit on the two chairs in front of her desk while I lean against the wall beside the windows and the coffee table, watching with a small frown as Carmilla mutters something in Spanish and pours herself a drink, but then ends up drinking from the bottle. I rest a hand on her arm and look at her with big puppy eyes, noticing how she seems to relax a bit under my touch, and a weak smile appears on her face. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She replies softly and caresses my cheek with her hand for a second before letting it drop to her side, but we both know that she's not fine. As a rattling sound that we recognize as Zestial makes us turn our heads to the door, watching him come into the room.

“Carmilla, what troubles thou? Losing thy composure is unlike thee.”

“It's nothing, Zestial, really.”

“The felled angel… t'was by thy hand, was it not?”

“Let's not talk about it.” I'm looking at her intently enough to see the same flicker of guilt that passed through her eyes when it was brought up in the meeting and I wordlessly questioned her about it. Whether it's guilt for murdering a soul or keeping this from Zestial and I, I'm not sure, but I don't get why she'd keep this to herself. She could have told me, I would have helped her.

“Mom… maybe they should know.” Clara says gently, which makes my ears twitch in her direction. The three of them know what happened, but we don't.

“Nobody should know!” Carmilla says, slamming her palms on the desk and taking her seat. Whatever happened, it sounds like it's something that's taking quite a toll on her. My ears droop at the thought. She doesn't have to go through it all on her own, she's got us. “I did what I had to do. I'm not discussing this.”

I want to go over there and comfort her, I really do, but maybe I should let them have a moment. They're a family, after all, and had she not invited me in, I would have either stayed outside or gone back to the hotel.

♪ What weighs on your soul, old friend?

I implore you to share the load

If it was thou who slew the angel

Why not let your strength be known? ♪

I'm not sure why I'm frustrated with her keeping this from me. I have no right to be, anyway, and for a series of reasons. First off, I'm keeping a gigantic secret from her myself, most definitely bigger than hers. And second, we have a more casual relationship, we're not even girlfriends yet, I can't really expect her to be comfortable sharing this with me. But I guess I'm upset I didn't know sooner because this is about my home, my loved ones. This is a risk to them, and I'd give anything for them to be safe.

♪ I always thought

That I would keep blood off my face

But when that thing attacked

I had to act

To cross that line and keep them safe ♪

She killed in self defense. That's completely reasonable. She killed to protect her daughters. But they were out on extermination day alone? Why didn't they call me for help? I would have gone down there in the chaos if it meant protecting them. I would have risked being found out if it meant protecting them. But one thing I dislike is how angels are dehumanized here. It's like we're animals to them, which from their point of view is fair, but not all angels are like that. The exorcists might be, but not all of them. Not all of us.

♪ But if anyone knew

Then all of hell would rise to war

And who's to say who'd survive the fray?

I might lose the ones I was killing for ♪

♪ So I

I'll be your keeper

Do whatever it takes

I'll make the mistakes

I'll keep you safe and keep this secret ♪

The way she hugs her daughters, the way they look up at her with affection and gratitude, it makes my heart warm as a smile comes to my lips. And the fact that she lifts her head to look at me for a moment during that last sentence makes me feel so cared for, even just for a second.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It doesn't take long for us to find refuge in her room, all alone and under the cozy lighting of the evening. Because the girls are out for the night, Carmilla seems to feel much more loose and free with her movements and actions, testified by how she pulls me in for a kiss milliseconds after I close the door behind us. My hands fly to her cheeks and I get on my tiptoes to reciprocate the kiss better, squeaking in surprise when she picks me up and carries me to the bed. She breaks the kiss and sets me down on the mattress, then sits beside me and kicks off her ballet slippers. I do the same with my own shoes and crawl to sit behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and giving her a gentle squeeze as I litter kisses on her bare shoulders. I can feel the tension leaving her body when I hug her, then nuzzle my nose into the crook of her neck and give it a gentle bite before trailing kisses up the side of her neck and under her ear, using my tail to tease her by looping it around her side and tickling her chin with the tuft. “You need some help distracting yourself, cielo?”

“Mhm, is that okay?” She replies softly, hands undoing the neatly tied up hair to let it down. The sweet scent of her perfume and shampoo almost makes me dizzy as the black and white waterfall cascades beside me, nose nuzzling into the soft fluffy hair as I inhale its smell with a sigh.

“Of course it's okay. Just lie down for me, yeah? I'll take care of you, hermosa.” I purr as she obeys and lies back on the bed for me. My terms of endearment for her used to be in English before I asked her to teach me some in Spanish. I knew a few already, but I wanted her to tell me which ones she likes, and after I gained more confidence with the words, I started calling her those - and a few of my own as well.

I crawl on top of her and pull her in for another kiss, hands roaming up and down her sides before beginning to fiddle with the buttons on her shirt. My lips trail down her jaw, neck and collarbone as I undo the last button without looking, relying only on familiarity and basking in the soft sighs of pleasure that she lets out at my soft kissing and nipping. I lift her shirt over her head and smile down at her, connecting our lips once more as my hands gently cup her breasts. She gasps softly into my mouth at the contact and I feel her chest rising and falling under my touch, her breaths soft and slowly increasing in speed. I break the kiss to attach my lips to her nipple and swirl my tongue around it before lapping at it, relishing in the soft moans that escape her mouth. Her hands rest at the base of my neck as her head leans back against the pillow, the warmth of her touch giving me the urge to pleasure her right. The touch of her hands on either side of my neck feels familiar, it reminds me of-

No, don't you fucking dare.

I open my eyes to meet her ruby ones and focus on her face, contorting with pleasure when I switch my mouth to her other breast. “Mhm- ahh, Y/N…”

Sliding between her spread legs, I make a trail of kisses down her stomach until I reach the waistband of her spiked skirt, then pull it down her legs along with her black pantyhose. The sight of the glistening precum between her legs makes me shiver, pupils dilating with hunger before I delve my tongue into her folds, tail stiffening at the taste. My ears twitch at the wonderful sound of the sharper moan that falls from her lips at the pleasure and her fingers tangle into my mane, tugging and ruffling at the golden tuft as she grinds her pussy on my face to look for further stimulation. Her back arches off the mattress when I wrap my lips around her sensitive clit and gently suck on it, her louder mewls sending waves of arousal to my pulsating core. “Oh, fuck… oh, that's good, amor, don't stop…”

I'm not even planning to.

To make the sensations even more intense, I tease a finger to her entrance before sliding it inside, stomach flipping as her tight walls clench around my digit. She moans my name with a gasp, squirming on the bed as her hand reaches for mine and clasps it tightly. I remember how Lute started doing that once she got more comfortable, letting the roughness and passion give say to more tender moments once in a while.

No, wait, what am I doing?

Stop. Now.

Don't do that. It can never end well.

I stick another digit inside her and push both of them deeper, the pads of my fingers hitting the spongy spot that makes her body arch as she lets out a loud cry of blissful pleasure and her fingers tighten in my mane. “I'm almost there, almost- ah, fuck…!”

To help her get there, I piston my fingers inside her with more force and let go of her hand to rub circles on her clit, giving it a gentle smack and watching as she comes undone. The way her hand claws at the bed sheets, the arch of her back, her face contorted with white-hot pleasure as her moaning turns slightly higher in pitch.

As soon as she relaxes on the bed, I crawl up to her and kiss her on the lips, then leave gentle kisses on her temple and cheek, soft purrs escaping me as my hand brushes away the hair sticking to her forehead. “Better, mi ninfa?”

She smiles at me and chuckles softly, nodding as she wraps her arms around me and brushes my mane back into place with her fingers, “Much better. But now it's your turn, come here.”

“Hey, come on, you don't have to. You had a long day, just have some rest.” I coo, kissing her forehead and caressing her cheek. She must be tired out from the meeting and the stress and all. Or maybe we should stop before I do or say something stupid and fuck this up.

“I'm not tired, I can take another round.” She replies and sits up on her elbows, looking at me with a little smirk. I know that face, she's up to something. She's not at all shy when it comes to trying new things in bed, but as it turns out, it's something I've tried before. Her hand reaches into her drawer for something that I assume is a toy but when I see it, my ears and tail perk up in recognition. Is that a strap? “Do you wanna try this?”

The first time I tried this was with Lute, and pretty early on in our relationship. She'd fuck me with it as often as she could, she'd always put aside a bit of time every day just to rail me, and man, did we get noise complaints from her neighbors. “Yeah, why not?”

She smiles and gives me a quick peck on the lips, then we switch places and she starts putting on the strap while I undo my bow tie and take off the rest of my clothes. Once I'm laid out on the bed and bare before her, she lies on top of me and bends down to capture my lips in a passionate kiss while she teases the tip to my entrance. The familiar sensation draws a small gasp from me, letting out a softer moan as she starts to push it further inside. More moans and babbles fall from my lips at the familiarity of being half-filled like this, panting and whimpering out, “M- More… please, more- ahh…”

Carmilla chuckles and rests a hand on my lower stomach for leverage as she bottoms out, pausing to wait for my go ahead. Shit, I forgot how good this feels. I give her a weak nod and let my head lull back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as I wrap my legs around her and lock my ankles on her lower back. My head becomes a bit fuzzy with the intense sensations that are only enhanced when she snaps her hips forward and back before bottoming out again, setting a slow and gentle pace. A string of moans, whines and curses spills from my lips as my hands grip the bed sheets tightly, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple, “Please… please, harder… mommy, please…”

The word makes her stop for a moment, my confused eyes meeting her lust-blown ones before I realize what I just called her.

Damn it.

“What did you just call me?”

“Mommy- mmph!”

Before I can even finish speaking, she pulls out and manhandles me onto my stomach, this time intruding my pussy with much more haste and aggressively pounding me from behind. I've never seen her like this, so animalistic, so rough. Her hands gripping my hips, the sound of our skin slapping together, the tip of the plastic dick hitting just the right spot each time with flawless precision, it all makes them blur together. The mental image of her porcelain skin and her snowy white hair bouncing above her shoulders, her golden eyes flashing with desire and adoration, the warmth of her body, muscular and delicate at the same time intrudes my mind at the best yet worst of times and it's too clear to get it out. It's her flawless hips and her calloused hands gripping me when she fucks me, it's her wings unfurling and flapping with the effort, it's her lips leaving hickeys on my shoulder when I cry tears of overstimulation. And with an unexpected rough pull of my tail, a high-pitched moan is ripped from my throat as the orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave and I cry out,

“Lute!”

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

God, what the hell did I just do?!

Lute.

I said Lute.

I cried out another woman's name during sex.

“Carmilla, wait-” I begin as I button up my shirt with haste, following her out into the hall of the mansion and reaching out to touch her arm. I knew there was nothing I could say to make her feel better, but I had to try.

"Don't." She warns, hurt etched across her face, which made me retract my hand, ears drooping with resignation. It breaks my heart to see her like this. Damn it, I screwed this up forever. How could I have been so dumb? “I've always known you had issues, but if you were in love with someone else, why didn't you end things with me?"

"I- I didn't even know, I-” I sigh mid-sentence, tears stinging my eyes. How would I even explain this to her? “Look, it's... complicated. I used to date this person 30 years ago, and now she thinks I'm dead. I just- I saw her by accident last week, and it just came crashing back."

"She thinks you're what? I don't understand...” she squints her eyes, hands on her hips as she gazes at me with bewilderment. I can't tell this to her, it's too risky.

"It's really complicated, just drop it." I say and turn away for a moment, taking a few steps down the hallway. I can't tell her, what's the point anyway? You can't change the past. It's not going to change anything, and most definitely not for the better. It's going to kill our relationship. No, no, I can't lose another person. She's the only one that affirms me and is there for me at any moment of need. And I just hurt her feelings.

Carmilla grabs my wrist to stop me, crimson eyes flashing with heartbreak, bafflement and something akin to anger. I don't blame her, I never could, to be honest. I'd hate me, too. "Y/ N, you just called me another woman's name while we were having sex. I deserve to know about her."

"It's better for the both of us if you don't know."

"Y/N, just talk to me!"

"No!" I swiftly turn around and snap at her, ripping my hand from her grip. A soft slicing noise and a pang of pain drags across the back of my hand and I cry out, covering the wound with my other hand while my entire face pales.

Oh, shit.

My blood.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, fuck, no, this cannot be happening to me!

It's over, the relationship is definitely over now.

Carmilla gasps and looks at the angelic blades on the wall, the distress in her eyes mellowing into concern. That sends a stab of guilt in my heart. She's angry with me but she still cares about me enough to worry when I'm in pain. God, she's going to loathe me if she sees. She reaches her big, soft hand out and murmurs a gentle, "Let me see.”

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." I flinch back like a startled cub and hold my hand close to my chest, terrified of her seeing the golden blood. I hate this. I hate this so, so, so, so much.

"Y/N, that's a dangerous weapon. Let me see the wound." She presses, gently gripping my forearm and trying to pry it away from my chest, to which I apply resistance and take a few wobbly steps back as my tail tucks between my legs. She can't know, she just can't. She'll turn away from me forever. She wouldn't be wrong in doing so, but I would be shattered if she did.

"No, please don't."

"Y/N-"

She pulls my hand from my chest and her scarlet eyes land on the golden liquid cascading down my hand, beautiful face morphing into an expression I hate with every fiber of my being. Pain, confusion, betrayal, fear. The way her eyes drop, the way her eyebrows crease, the way her lips part with shock. The color drains from my skin and my eyes fill with tears, choosing to stay silent for now. Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, she has no idea what to say. And what can she say? What do you say when the person you're dating lies about where they come from?

I stifle a sob and wait for her to say something, anything. What is there to say? I might not be able to take this much longer.

God, I just want to vanish right now. My legs, arms and body tremble violently as I struggle to make eye contact with her, shifting the muscles in my back to wrap my wings around myself... except I don't have wings anymore. "You... you're an angel...?"

"I used to be." I reply, sniffing softly and roughly wiping the tears from my eyes, angry at myself for letting them fall, for not watching myself with the weapon, for letting Lute's name slip.

"You're no exorcist. You can't even touch a weapon." She thinks aloud, slightly shaky from the shock. I don't want to tell her more about my past, but am I really in the position to ask her for favors? I lied to her, I broke her heart, I didn't treat her right, I never did. This is less than fair to her. "What are you, then? Archangel?"

"Seraph." I sigh, ears drooping as I look up at her like a cub that's been kicked, but not to try to sway her or get my way. I don't even know what my way would be. To be honest, I'm just hoping she won't leave, but at this point, even that seems like too much to ask for.

When did things get so complicated?

A breath of disbelief puffs from her lips and she runs a hand through her hair, trying to make sense of the situation. I can't even begin to imagine the thoughts running through her head right now, the questions she must have, the pain she must be in. "That glow you have, how you're never around after extermination day... those six... bumps on your back...”

I sniff and look to the side in shame, shrinking myself into my shoulders as if to hide myself from her. I tried to protect my family, I tried to protect the love of my life, my philtatē, and failed so horribly. I got my wings torn off my back, I got ruined for it. A Seraph whose family didn't even know where she was. But she thinks I'm a bad angel. An evil one that just cares about herself.

“And Lute... as in Adam's second-in-command Lute?" She asks, tears beading up in the corners of her eyes as she came to so many realizations. My ears go flat against my head as I force myself to look her in the eyes. It's the least she deserves. "You dated the lieutenant of the exorcist army?"

"Yeah... yeah, that's her.” I breathe, brushing the tears off my face and forcing myself to come to terms with it. The connection I had with Lute is unlike anything I've had in more than four billion years. The things I'd do to make her happy, to keep her safe and well. I'd give anything to be able to spend the rest of my life with her and give her anything that would make her happy... but it's not the life we're meant to have. And because of some stupid dream I built up in my head that's destined to go unfulfilled, I hurt a person that actually wants me and cares about me. I took her for granted and hurt her feelings.

"Were you ever going to tell me about all this?" She asks as tears bead up in the corners of her eyes. Why did I have to go and make her face look like that?

"Yes! Of course I was..."

"When?"

“…”

"..?"

"Um..."

"Ugh! I can't believe you!" She groans and whips around to walk down the hallway and I dash to follow after her, reflexively reaching out for her wrist, but then I stop and let my hand drop to my side. She doesn't want me to touch her.

“You want to talk about keeping secrets? What about the exorcist you killed?” I reply, my own frustrations bleeding through the argument as my ears draw back. I'm completely in the wrong and I know it, but the stubborn part of me can't help but want to argue with her. Good going, dipshit.

“Oh, please, don't even pretend you care about us. I saw the look on your face when you saw the angel's head. I know you recognized her, and I know you only care because you're selfish!” She yells back, pointing a finger to my chest, and glaring down at me with a venom that makes my stomach churn, but the accusation makes me so much angrier.

Selfish? I severed my bond with my older sister in an attempt to protect Lucifer and then lost it altogether when I tried to clean up her mess. I tried to do the right thing and protect my baby sister, to protect the woman I love from this crackpot idea that all sinners should die, and instead I lose everything I ever cared about. She doesn't truly know what selfish means if she's got the gall to call me that. “Selfish?! Is that what you think?!”

“Yes, that's precisely what I think!”

I take a few steps closer to her to stand almost a breath away, close enough to speak right in her face, and grit out, “If I were truly as selfish and petty as you think, I would have been grateful to see that bitch's head on your table, because her and her buddies are the reason I couldn't show my face anywhere near the army for being queer. That woman held me down while the other ones ripped out my wings. They're homophobic assholes who deserve to die, but I wasn't thinking of them, I was thinking about my family. I have people I'd die for, too - because I did - so don't lecture me about selfishness and secrecy when you don't know anything about me and especially when you did the exact same thing.”

I don't like talking about these things, in fact I hate to do so, and I can't believe that the first time I'm opening up to her is to win an argument. While I was defending myself, I didn't even realize when tears started streaming down my face, but I can feel my cheeks wetting now. I hate this so much. How did I even get in this situation in the first place? It could be so much simpler if I'd just done so many things differently. But you can't change the past.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.” She seems to have deflated a lot, despite her posture still being tense. She genuinely regrets calling me selfish, I can see it in her eyes, but she's still really angry with me, and I honestly don't blame her. “But that still doesn't justify the fact that you called me another woman's name. If I'm not your person, that's fine, but you shouldn't have led me on like that!”

"Carmilla, listen, no one hates me more than I do right now-"

"Are you so sure about that?"

I grimace and my ears go flat against my head. That stings, but I had it coming. The way she turns around with crossed arms and looks down at me with that sneer of resentment, that quirked eyebrow and that expression of disgust, I never thought it would be directed at me. On second thought, she probably didn't either.

"You're right. I'm completely in the wrong, and I'm not trying to justify myself. No one hates me more than I do except for you. I wanted to tell you, I honestly did, but I was scared of this. I was scared you'd hate me and push me away. I was hung up on my dumb feelings and didn't take you seriously when you were the only one to care about me - and I know I have no right to say this, but I care about you, too - and I'm so, so, so sorry for doing this to you." I want to comfort her so much, to wipe her tears and reassure her that everything would be alright, but even if she'd ever let me touch her again, it wouldn't be true. It's far from alright. So instead I settle for asking the question I'm petrified of knowing the answer to. "Is there anything I can do to salvage this?"

Carmilla pauses for a few seconds - the longest eternity I've ever experienced in my pre-creational existence - and sighs, running a hand down her face to wipe her tears as her expression mellows back into the more raw, real one she had before. The sight makes my heart crumble to pieces: the way her eyes are so full of pain, how her cheeks glisten with her tears. And I'm the cause of it. I'm the reason.

"No."

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aedesluminis · 2 months ago

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So, my uncle has just sent me the trailer for this game:

youtube

It's set in a sort of steampunk alternate universe and the player seems to be able through various alliances to influence the events starting from 1789 onwards. From this short trailer, it doesn't seem to be very historically accurate, but, oh boy, I'm too eager to conquer the world with my army of mechas 👀

#i like that basically you can choose either Robespierre or Lafayette from the very beginning lol #please let Carnot be a character! It's a strategic game after all...#frev #napoleonic era #french revolution #napoleonic wars #napoleon bonaparte #Youtube

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idolsummons · 1 month ago

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good morning. steampunk au!!!

#Come have steampunk aus with me #i'm the video game boy; i'm the one who wins! ｡･ﾟ✫ ooc

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coquettemouse · 3 months ago

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Why people have the imaginary image of Leo as an white man with messy hair?

This is stupidly common. Every single time I see an video or image of any white boy with messy hair, steampunk clothing or something on those lines I will always see white women saying that's how she image Valdez or "my Leo".

What the fuck is your problem? Honestly, and I don't want to be that kind of person, but how do you say you're a fan of the guy and you don't understand that he's a brown-skinned guy, when that shit is literally obvious? I'm not even kidding

I read this shit as a kid and understood that Leo was NOT a guy the color of fresh cow's milk. It's not that hard. You don't need a super interpretation to get that.

One of Leo's main characteristics (during Hoo) is his self-esteem. He compares himself to Jason not because Jason is hot. He compares himself to Jason because he is the epitome of WHITE masculinity. Fair skin, strong body, light eyes, blonde hair. Leo has brown skin, curly hair, is probably autistic and worryingly thin. He's not the conventionally attractive white guy with messy hair and a dirty face.

By the way, about the misinterpretation of the character. Leo is not ""cool"". He is not socially pleasant. Obviously Leo is funny and all, but the thing about his character is that he doesn't adapt to social conventions. He's kind, he's a sweet boy and he always tries to keep his friends' spirits up. >His friends<. And even with friends sometimes it will be a bit awkward. Because the book is about neurodivergent people. And Leo is a neurodivergent guy who people who "like Leo" would call weird. Besides, he's not just neurodivergent. He's a neurodivergent guy AND not white.

#leo valdez #heroes of olympus #You guys should try to stop reading fanfics and think for a second

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moonsbetween · 4 months ago

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Hi there! I've got this brand new blog and a dream, so I'm looking for fellow fantasy writers and book enthusiasts to connect and scream about fiction with. Please only follow/interact if you're an adult. — about me. ↬ Nohemi Hernandez / 20s / queer / Latina / she/her ↬ Currently residing in central Europe. ↬ Obsessed with Pathfinder 2e. I'm playing in three different campaigns, and it's still not enough! ↬ My favourite books are The Count of Monte Cristo and Luck in the Shadows. ↬ I've always had an interest in storytelling, but it wasn't until being diagnosed with a neurodegenerative disease that I decided to truly give writing a try. — about my writing. ↬ Fantasy. Fantasy. Fantasy. ↬ I love worlds that are in the throes of industrial or steampunk revolution. ↬ My stories can be a bit idealist and tend to revolve around themes of hope, understanding, and forgiveness. ↬ I believe in simplicity, and my writing reflects that. Sometimes less is more. ↬ I'm currently working on a fantasy web serial about a disabled witch boy, buried history, and a grand conspiracy. It's going to be looooooong. — about my wip. [CURRENTLY UNTITLED] ↬ When young witch Marco stumbles across the slumbering Luwen in an abandoned library, it's up to him and his cheeky familiar to find a way to break the enchantment on them while evading bounty hunters who will stop at nothing to get them back. I'm looking forward to meeting everybody!

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writeblr intro #writing

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storydays · 9 months ago

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Scrambled Eggs P1

(3rd POV)

Charlie hummed to herself as she made her way towards her brother's room. 'That dummy probably fell asleep at his desk again.' she giggled to herself before knocking on (Y/N)'s door. She frowned softly; (Y/N) was usually a light sleeper, so that knock would've woke him up immediately.

Charlie opened the door to pop her head in, her eyes landing on her brother's bed, eyes widening at sight before biting her lip to stop herself from squealing too loudly.

In (Y/N)'s bed, laid a shirtless prince and Angel Dust curled in his arms. (Y/N) laid on his back, with Angel curled into his side, beak pressed against the side of the blond's neck, of of his upper arms holding under (Y/N)'s shoulder, the other draped across his chest. Both of the spider's lower arms were holding onto the prince's waist.

Their legs were covered by (Y/N)'s heavy blanket, but you can tell their legs were tangled. (Y/N)'s wings were wrapped protectively around them.

Charlie used her phone to take a photo, before quitly shutting the door.

Once the door was shut, Charlie immediately ran down towards the kitchen and tackled a drowsy Vaggie. "Vaggie! Look, look, look!" She squealed, showing off the stolen photo. "Woah... about time." she muttered, pressing a kiss to Charlie's cheek before turning back to her coffee.

"Maybe we'll let them sleep for a bit. And let's keep this between is, babe. You know how private your brother is." Vaggie smiled, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

*Timeskip*

Charlie finished nailing the last nail to the banner. "That looks perfect!"she squealed, examining it. It read, 'Happy first week, Sir Pentious!'

"Ahh! I am so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel." She sang, making her way down the ladder.

"Um, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago." Vaggie pointed out, hands on her hip.

"Well, I haven't seen him try to pull any of that here." Charlie defended, just as the snake himself rolled over a cannon looking thing, his Egg Bois sitting on top.

"What the hell is that?" asked Vaggie.

"Oh, hello, purple female," Sir Pentious greeted, tiping his hat at the women. "It's my new invention, the 'SSSSkin Flayer 11,000.' I'm really looking forward to shooting the other residentsss." He grinned, rubbing his hand together.

"What? Why?" asked a baffled Charlie.

"Everyone is being too nice," answered the snake before rolling his eyes, "Obviously, it must be a lie. I can sssense they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared! Ooh, the new parts of my machine are here." He perked up before slithering over to the delivery girls.

"Sign, please." Odette held a clipboard out, which the demon did happily before turning to the delivery. "Thank you for your business. Enjoy your Carmine purchase." she waved goodbye as she and her sister departed.

"Carmine? As in Carmella Carmine..You are buying parts from an overlord?" Vaggie growled.

"Uh, of course," Sir Pentious said in a 'duh' tone, "She's the top weapons dealer in Hell."

"Okay, well, that stops right now." Vaggie took the parts from him, turning to him as he protested. "Hey!"

"You absolutely cannot build weapons in this hotel. No one is trying to kill you. People are being nice because they want you to feel welcome." Vaggie raised an eyebrow as Pentious peeked over his cannon to look at the other members of the hotel.

Husk was behind the bar, drinking a bottle of his Cheap Booze, before peeking an eye open and sending a middle finger at the snake.

Angel was leaning against (Y/N)'s side, turning between scrolling through social media, and watching the prince sketch in his sketchbook, when both males smirked at the snake and sent him their middle fingers again.

(Y/N) was still pissed about Pentious breaking into his office and attempting to send recordings to the TV themed Overlord.

Angel just wanted to be an asshole.

Niffty was dusting the table, before turning slowly and smiling manically at the snake, giggling devilishly.

"Hmm, I have my doubts." hissed Pentious. "Well, it's true. You have to trust us." Vaggie rolled her eye.

"But I don't." retorted the snake demon.

"Well, why don't we focus on that for today's activities?" Charlie spoke up, hoping to lighten the tension.

"Not before we lay some ground rules." Vaggie interrupted, "No more building weapons, no more plotting against the other guests. And you need to get rid of those things." She pointed at the Egg Bois who were playing with Pentious' new weapon parts, and accidentally fired a laser at the ceiling.

"Oh, what did I just say? What did I just say?" grumbled the white haired woman, pointing at the hole.

"What? Not my little Egg Bois! They do my evil bidding for me!" He begged, hugging the little creatures close to him. "Do you want to stay here and redeem yourself?" Vaggie raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?" Pentious asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then no more eggs."

"All right, eggies. You've got to go." sobbed Pentious, "I...can't keep you anymore," "Okay boss!" They saluted him, walking away with Vaggie as he continued to protest them, "No, don't resist. This is how it has to be." He sobbed into his hands, Charlie awkwardly patting his shoulder.

*Upstairs*

Alastor hummed along to the light jazz music he was playing as he ate his....breakfast. "Alastor!" called Vaggie, startling the Radio Demon. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of breakfast." he ate another forkful.

"Pentious' eggs are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them." Vaggie watched through an narrow eye. "Oh, well, in that case, I'd be delighted to!" He walked closer to the Latina, who crossed her arms and glared. "Humanely!" she snapped.

"Hm. Well that's a lot less fun," grinned Alastor, eyes glowing red, revealing the X on his forehead, before he turned to normal and shrugged. "But I suppose I can take care of that on my outing today." He nodded his head to Vaggie who smiled briefly. "Great."

She caught sight of the 'breakfast', that Alastor was eating and grimaced. "That looks disgusting."

*Downstairs in the main lobby*

"Hi, guys! Thanks for coming," Charlie smiled at the demons sitting in front of her, "It's been brought to our attention that there maybe a litttttlllleeeee tension in the hotel."

Pentious hissed as he picked up Niffty to further examine her, the little cyclops not minding as he squeezed her, aiming his death ray at her.

"Tension that can be counterproductive to what we're trying to do here." Vaggie side eyed Pentious as he hissed in irritation.

"We think that this group could really benefit from...Trust exercises!" "Trust exercises!" Vaggie and Charlie cheered, Vaggie falling on her butt. "Ah, shit." she hissed.

"Vaggie, we rehearsed this." Charlie blinked at her girlfriend, helping her up. Vaggie smiled sheepishly, making Charlie smile at her goofiness. "We're doing trust exercises. "

The group looked her rather boredly, (Y/N) smiling at his sister encouragingly, sending her a thumbs up.

"So, what's the whole, uhhh, this?" Husk asked, gesturing to the stage behind the two women. "I'm not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps. It's bad enough when Prince here gets inspired, he tries to dress me up." grumbled the cat.

(Y/N) grinned from his spot next to Angel, "No, no I don't try, kitty, I do." He chuckled to himself, holding up his sketch book mockingly as the winged cat demon playfully rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face.

"You've been spending too much time with Legs over there." scoffed Husk.

Angel perked up, tossing his long legs on (Y/N)'s lap, gold tooth glinting in the light. "Oh I will put on a show, but it's cash up front, " He held his hand out for cash, before pointing at Pentious, "And I know that one, can't afford me."

"Gross! I'd never think of it, spider!" hissed the snake, crossing his arms.

"That's fine, because I'm VIP only, and only (Y/N) here gets the special treatment from me." Purred Angel, cupping the prince's face, leaning forward, eyelids low, a grin on his face. "Mia cara, non davanti a tutti. (My darling, not in front of everyone).." blushed (Y/N), a shaky smile on his face before he mushed Angel in his face before turning back to an amused Charlie.

"Mi les lexi re manka. (Don't you say a word, you brat.)" He hissed, she merely grinned, knowing her brother wouldn't hurt her, "Den eipa tipota. (I didn't say anything)"

Vaggie spoke up, "Right, well let's get started, Charlie?" Vaggie smiled, trying to move things along.

"Actually, I thought maybe you could take the lead on this one. I trust everyone, so maybe you know better about how to build it properly." Charlie smiled encoruagingly, as everyone came in a line, to see what Vaggie had planned.

"What? Uhh, I don't know if I'm qualified, uh--" "Oh, come one. It'll be easy, I'm sure you can handle this." Charlie said, complete faith in her beautiful girlfriend.

"Yeah, um..sure. I can handle this. No problem." She eyed the raised eyebrows and scowls from some of the men.

She shouted like a drill Sargent, "All right, so we are starting with trust falls. Each of you are going to share something vulnerable with the group about yourself and then fall backwards whole the rest of the group catches you! Got it? Who wants to go first?"

Charlie excitedly raised her hand. "Ooohh, ooohh, me me me me! Me! Me! Me!" she grabbed Vaggie's shoulder who looked amused. "All right. Get on up here."

"I love you guys. Like really, really love you." She said, tearfully, falling backwards into Vaggie's waiting arms. "That...felt...great!" she giggled, kicking her feet happily.

"Angel, why don't you go next?" she suggest, looking at him upside down.

"Fiiinneee." sighed the spider, as he sashayed up to the stage. "This time, everyone needs to catch him. Okay, unless you want me to hurt you." Vaggie held out her spear in warning.

Niffty, Husk and Pentious walked closer, (Y/N) moving Vaggie's spear from near him.

"Oh, somethin' about myself huh? How about this? I love to suck---" Angel grinned widely, making a certain gesture, "I swear to fuck if you say dicks!" Husk growled loudly, Angel smirking to himself.

"Popsicles, ya sicko! Get your mind out of the gutter." He winked, before falling back into (Y/N)'s waiting arms. "But you know, (Y/N)'s dick too!" Angel grinned, running a hand over the prince's belt buckle.

(Y/N) dropped him on his ass with a playful grin. "Whoops. "

Angel rubbed his butt ,and rolled his eyes playfully, before turning to Sir Pentious. "All right, new guy, you're up."

"I don't want to live without my minions. Nobody catch me." Sighed the snake tearfully before falling backwards, grunting when Charlie and Vaggie caught him. "Damn it." he groaned. "That's great, wow, you are slimey." Vaggie grimaced, shoving him away, wiping her hands off on her dress.

"(Y/N), you're up." Charlie urged her brother, who sighed dramatically, before climbing up to the stage.

"Umm..." (Y/N) placed a hand on his hip as he hummed, thinking. "Um, I can use the feathers off my wings as kunais for long distance attacks. And I have deadly accuracy. " He grinned, briefly showing his demon form.

He turned and fell into Angel's arms, "Hey, sweet cheeks. Come here often?" Angel purred, making (Y/N) huff and roll his eyes, a very faint red on his cheeks. "Put me down, idiota!" He snapped, mushing Angel's face again.

"Niffty, your turn." (Y/N) smiled at the little cyclops who giggled excitedly before rushing to the stage, eye wide with murderous glee.

"Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others." she admitted before jumping off, and face planting on the floor as everyone else took a few steps back.

The rest of the members eyed her clearly weirded out. "Yay! Pain!" Niffty got up to jump off again and again while Charlie and Vaggie snuck off to talk in private.

"I don't know if this is really working the way we hoped." Charlie whispered, before perking up, "Maybe we should--" "Honey, you have to trust me here. I got this, okay? I'll figure something out." Vaggie soothed Charlie's worried mind.

Both looked up as Angel suddenly loomed over them with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eye, and pulled them into a huddle with his arms. "If you're in the market for some ideas, I got just the thing for some 'trust' buildin.' " He lowered his body to be eye level with Vaggie as she sighed, and eyed him. "What do you have in mind?"

*with Alastor*

The Radio Demon walked through the city as the Egg Bois followed him, chattering away. "Oh boy. What's the plan boss? I like your suit! What are the antlers for? Can I touch your staff thing? Are those your ears? Or is it your hair? I can't tell."

Alastor's right eye twitched in annoyance, as he debated if he should get rid of them humanely like Vaggie asked, or say fuck it.

"Hark, Alastor. How fare thee this day?" A green and black spider demon asked, approaching the Radio Demon who grinned excitedly seeing the figure.

"Who's that boss? Want me to rough him up for you?" asked the Egg Bois, ready to defend the deer.

"Follow in silence if you value your shell." hissed Alastor before turning to the demon in front of him. "Greetings, Zestial!" He greeted, as demons around them took notice of who was there, screaming in fear.

"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day." Zesital replied, narrowing his eyes at a demon who ran out of a bar, arguing with someone inside. "Oh shit!" They screamed, disappearing.

"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon." The two demons watched as another doused himself in lighter fluid before setting himself on fire and running away in fear.

"I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence." The two started walking, ignoring the multiple demons who ran in and hid in fear.

"Some hath soun wild tales of you falling to holy arms." hummed Zestial.

Alastor laughed, "Oh, I just took a well earned sabbatical. Nothing serious." Alastor looked around briefly before turning to the green and black spider. "Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes, haha!" He turned on a laugh track briefly.

Zestial chuckled lowly, "There too hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy." Alastor watched as he opened his cloak dramatically, through lazy eyes.

"Tell me, how does thou fall in such folly?"

"That is for me to know. But please, do guess. I'd love to know the theories." Alastor side eyed the spider as he continued to walk.

"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm." complimented the spider.

"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment." The deer smiled, before they reached their destination.

They both looked into a security camera; the camera glitching when Alastor grinned into it, before stepping onto the elevator.

The Egg Bois tried to follow but were stopped by the Radio Demon. "No, no. I havea very important task for you." He tapped his claws on his staff, "Stay here and guard the front until I return. " The Egg Bois saluted determinedly back.

"Oh, look!" cried one of the Egg Bois as the elavator lifted up, "Frank is up there!" he pointed to their friend who was banging on the glass with worry on his face. "We have names?" asked another who shrugged.

*Upstairs with the Radio Demon.*

Frank watched in awe, as many other demons came and joined Alastor and Zestial at the table. He stood behind Alastor, peeking over at a demoness. He waved happily, before the woman grinned, showing her sharp teeth. "Oh!" exclaimed the little egg.

Metallic clinking echoed in the room as a woman with her hair in a horn style, and ballerina shoes on her feet. "Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city." She was joined by the two young ladies who made the delivery to Sir Pentious earlier that day.

"Together, you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule." She slammed her fist on the table. "We need to discuss what can be minimize the impact to our interest."

Hearing a soft rattling, the woman turned to see Zestial having a seat next to her, summoning a cup of tea.

"Zestial, so good to see you, my friend." "Enchanted as always, Carmilla."

Carmilla then noticed the Radio Demon. "Alastor?"

"Yes, I know I've been absent sometime. I'm sure you've been wondering." Alastor gestured theatrically.

"Not really. But welcome back in any case." replied Carmilla, shrugging her shoulders as Alastor's face tightened in annoyance.

She snapped her fingers, and Odette handed her a clipboard. "This year's extermination was brutal, far more even than years past." Her daughters sat in their seats, Odette pulling up a slideshow behind Carmilla.

"We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost. With the angelic legions, now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we--" a door slamming cut her off.

"Yes, I've got it handled, Vox." Velvette said loudly into her cell phone. "Are you doubting me?"" she asked. "Really? Me? That's what I thought." The pink haired demon cackled, leaning against her chair.

"Haha! Yes, I know. They're all a joke." She grinned, purposely making eye contact with Carmilla. "Thank you, Vee. See you soon. Kisses, darling." She sent kisses towards the phone before hanging up, and throwing herself into her chair.

"Nice of you to join us, Velvette." Carmilla said politely. "Will your...colleagues be joining?" She asked, disdain clear in her face.

"No. They have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag,who thinks she's tough shit." Carmilla narrowed her eyes at the language. "I'm here to represent." She then took a picture of the ballerina and add poop emojis around her.

"Charming," Carmilla rolled her eyes before turning back to the slide show. "So, as I was saying, we need to discuss--" Velvette once again interrupted by raising her hand in the air. "Yes?" Carmilla asked, annoyed.

"On the subject of discussion..." Velvette threw an exorcist's head onto the table, getting a varying array of responses. "Oh shit!" "Oh, tasty!" Alastor exclaimed.

"Where did you get this?" asked the white haired woman, her eyes flashing red.

"We found it during extermination day." explained Velvette as she stood up. "If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed." She jumped on the table as she explained herself.

"We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan." Velvette was interrupted by Zestial slurping loudly on his tea...for a good few seconds.

"If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meagre proof...Thou art far more foolish than I be thought."

The fashionista scoffed, " "Meager proof? It's a dead fucking exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive. You going blind, old man?" She mocked.

Zesital shrugged his shoulders. "We know not how this perished...Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?"

The other overlords muttered in agreement. Velvette noticed that Carmilla was suddenly silent, looking downcast.

She smiled sharply, "Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?" Zestial remained silent.

"Oh. What's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for--"

@mihawksdemoness @avatar-lover

Let me know if you guys want to me to tag you. And I gave a specialy surprise coming soon! Follow @deathexe6110 bc I owe them a HUGEEEEEEEEE THANK YOU for the surpise <3

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