#KILL YOURSELF FANG LI

[sleepy-fiction]

Like Vampires Do.

Alucard Tepes x vampire!reader NSFW

syn: your lady Erzsebet was killed, so you venture to revenge her death by killing your ex-lover Adrian Tepes. What you fail to consider are old, bitter feelings of unprocessed heartbreak to peak through your scheme. Through the shared regrets of the failures of your relationship, you come face to face to what you're scared of the most. Love and Adrian Tepes. and u fuck like dogs too but that's beside the point

tags: bdsm, knife play, blood play, hate sex, cunnilingus (male receiving), breeding kink, freaky dynamic, reader has a fear of love, alucard has a rejection fear, sadistic reader, mostly bottom alucard

a/n: PROOFREAD. this was a fun post!! love u whimpering men. also I ended up changing the plot while writing, so the intro might be a little jaded, but over all it should smoothly transition to the new plot.

6.8K WORDS

Alucard, now that he is over three hundred, is attractive in the way observing his every move is a treat, but to be physically intertwined with him is a different story. He is attractive in the way blooming flowers are, how they glisten and glow, having their own aura and status. With eyes brimming towards the future, overcome with prowess. Alucard three hundred years ago had most of his humanity still within him, it's easy to see how the two of you could intertwine. But now he's more vampire than he is human, and how do vampires love? Do vampires truly have soft spots for eachother? And is he worth spending the rest of your eternal life with?

These are the questions that run through your mind as your greedy eyes peered out from the shadows of leaves. You were in Paris, brought along by the sounds of revolution, by the death of your lord Drolta and your precious leader, Erzsebet. And also, by the news that spread about the Alucard stationed in Paris.

You didn't feel you belonged here, not after all this time, not after all the blood spilt your hands. Nothing but crippling anxiety built up in your belly, the bile taste like poison through your vampiric teeth.

You've known Alucard before.

Back when you were human.

The two of you had met on your travels to India. You can easily remember the nights rolling around in silk satin. The warmth of his flesh and fading blonde strands against your bare skin. You remember the ecstasy of presenting your inventions and knowing that somewhere in the crowd lied your partner, Alucard. But you knew him as Adrian Tepes.

You also rememver how quickly all of the bliss went to shit.

You can clearly picture the night when Hindi vampires hailed from the sky. The fear, the trepidation. How your throat logged up, your eyes glossed over in affright.

You remember how Alucard grabbed you by the window of your estate-- but you, too panicked, too terrified, couldnt think straight and fought against him. You didn't listen, more so, couldn't hear him over the buzzing in your ears. So your physically weak body commanded you to fight against him to sit-- just for a moment all you needed was to sit down. Catch your breath.

But, you didn't listen.

Nay, you couldn't hear.

You remember the piercing feeling of--

You winced bitterly. Your hands flew to touch the burnt eclipse symbol on your forehead. Your hands shook, your heart drumming. It was better to stay focused.

But on what? Your mind was racing.

The atmosphere of Paris was lively, the night life was full of partying, as the smell of wine doft around the air. The city was full of glowing lights. You quietly stepped down the stone streets, careful to pull the heavy cloak over your face, and being ever more to hide your fangs.

You traveled down to a bar, following your most primal senses, and finding yourself peering in through the window. There, in the hubub of merry and warm lights, you could see him.

The Alucard.

Your Adrian Tepes.

Your breath fails you.

He's ever the more gorgeous than what he was before. His skin flushed an unnatural white, complimenting to his hair, now completely dull of blonde and bordering delicate sliver. His eyes were soft and doting, as he smiled at the bartender, engaged in a conversation your sharp ears could squander.

It was more so him listening, than saying a word.

You bit your lips, glossy tears brimming your eyes. You should walk in and slay him right now.

Slay him for your master.

Slay him for your h... Heartbreak.

Meekly, pitifully, your hand reached up to stroke the glass, guilt bursting through your body. But even though glass, your hand seemed to sear away from him. Even through glass, his sunshine seemed to burn your moonlit hands. No longer could you walk the day light the way you did before.

You are a creature of the night now. Undeserving to even try for the light.

Forlorn, bitter, and forgotten. Capable of only evil. And that is your reasoning for why you did what you had to do. You did what you had to when Erzsebet chose you. You did what you must, when you bathed in her holy blood.

Alucard has to accept it.

No, he's moved on by now. He doesn't even think of you after all this time.

Yet you could not.

By all law and by all reasoning you should be in there right now, either scorched to death by his paws, or destroying him in yours-- for your dead mistress's sake. But for some reason, now, one hundred years later, your body seems to forsake itself. It and everything you believed in.

Your teeth chattered.

There was too much blood on your hands now.

You could hear the bells of melancholy solitude.

Your fists clenched tightly.

Yea, and must you--

Suddenly, a voice calls out, "I know he's even more daunting in person," a hum trailing after her words. You turn in a shock, your eyes finding a small blonde girl dressed in pink, her hands folded as she stared through the window next to you. Her serious eyes fixated on the Alucard, her lips parted, the faintest air of a flush tinting her pale cheeks.

You swallowed thickly. You spoke, "Why- Yes." Seeing that she was no threat, you simply tugged your hood further. Your gaze averting back to the window.

She continues, "he has this aura. This presence... It brims with..."

"The cry of solitude," you mutter, unable to stop your pitiful hand from touching the glass once more. "Lonely little eyes, lonely stare," you whisper.

Look at you. Begging from your insides for him to turn and look at you.

She cackles, stepping behind you, "Yes, like an abandoned puppy." You suddenly feel magic swelling behind you. But before you can act, the little girl growls, "Move an inch and I'll cut out your throat," she spits.

You freeze on command, your eyes racing back to get a glimpse of her.

She grins, "I'm not stupid. Seriously. Who hangs around in a cloak at night mere days after the slaughter of thousands? Vampires are too predictable... Do you know how many of your kind has staged useless revenge attacks here? I'm not letting you get near Alucard. Ever."

Your eyes redirect themselves to the window, where Alucard parts with the bartender with a gracious smile. Your eyes clench close, savoring the memory behind your eyelids. You speak, your voice barely above a whisper, "If this must be my death, then so be it. For the glory of my lady Erzsebet--"

Yet fate smiles on you.

Before you could finish, you hear that husky, melachonly voice call, "Maria?"

It's slow and smooth, husky and rich.

Just as it was all those years ago.

Your heart caught itself in your throat. You should have never dropped your guard.

As the girl, who you assume is Maria, turns to face him with a zealous fire abrupting out her tongue, you shrink into a bat and take off to the night.

Being the luckier sort, you where able to escape.

Though you didn't dare glance at, him, you could feel the unmistakable burn of his body.

Alucard Tepes.

--

When the next night came around, you thought all of your juvenile feelings would pass. You thought seeing once would be enough; but your body ached until sunset, able to even sleep a bit during the day. You tossed and turned in the grass of the outskirts of the city, clawing at your chest, twisting and turning, trying to stop the cries that burnt down your cheeks; the wails that accompanied them.

After hours of agonizing.

You decided your pain must be stemming from losing your lady Erzsebet. How she stirs within you.

The guilt.

Of Erzsebet.

Nothing more or less.

"I- I don't know what I am anymore,"

"Let me tell you, please. I can tell you,"

You hissed at the memory, knees weak. Regardless of the omen, you took flight into the setting sky.

You found yourself on the balcony of one of the rooms in the castle. Your soul seemed to guide you to this particular one. Never have you doubted your instincts. The windows were open, the curtains flowing in the soft breeze. Your eyes honed in on the white figure, dressed in sleeping attire, latches on the front of his chest barely tied, revealing the delicious skin.

You stood still.

You knew that he could sense you.

But he continued to write, a small candle illuminating his face and letter.

You stepped into the room, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains. The room smelled of him, smelled of aged vanilla, and a hint of spiced rum. Your fingers trailed down the fabric of the curtain. It was rough to the touch, no doubt made to block sunlight. Yet still you could hear the wanton scribbles of ink on paper.

You spoke, "I've come to kill you."

Alucard abruptly stopped. He rose his head, slowly turning to lay eyes on you. He blinks once, then twice; his soft lashes lidded over his eyes. He spoke, "Step into the light."

Intoxicating was the sound of his voice, the breath of his commands.

You obeyed, inching deeply closer. As close as you could without being burned by the radiance of his skin. Which, for you, was right at the edge of where the candle light could meet you.

You watch Alucard's face twinge up.

An expression your body only knew as disappointment.

You were bathed in blood the day you became a vampire. No-- You were addicted to it. Even now, to satisfy your hunger, you drink human blood twice a year. Anything to prevent your previous uncontrollable calamity.

You slaughtered so many.

Unable to hear Alucard.

Unable to hear Adrian.

You told yourself you needed to find yourself and hid from him. Going to the corners of the world where he wouldn't find you. And then finding yourself worshipping a woman who promised to feed your uncontrollable addiction. To turn the world into an endless night, that you may drink as much as you wanted.

Hell.

You discovered your body had the taste for men's blood over women's. Something adverse to most of vampire society. It made you feel better. At least you weren't slaughtering the defenseless.

It was only after continuous mental failures that Erzsebet forced you to become clean. She locked you up somewhere in Chukotka, letting perma-frost deal with you.

And you came out even more power hungry than how you started.

Yes.

There was countless deaths on your hands.

You weren't misled. Although, yes, a part of you was. But there was an even larger part of you that acted of its own accord. A part of you that you didn't know that you couldn't control. You were fully a vampire, not half.

You want to eat flesh and drink blood.

Not the blood of pigs, or chickens, or cows.

Human men's.

So there you stood with a face of stone, holding a dagger in your right hand.

"Closer. I cannot see you... Come closer," Adrian called.

But you didn't fall to his will this time.

"Your hood... At least remove it... May I see the face of the vampire who wishes to kill me," he whispers. Truth was, Adrian already knew it was you. He had a feeling when he felt Maria's magic, and seeing the glimpse of your form fluttering away into the night, he knew that whoever it was was quite the peculiar vampire.

He promised Maria that he'd go after you, and that she need not to worry. But he knew whoever it was would be back soon. Just. He didn't expect it to be you. Only after hearing your voice did it all make sense.

Truly, this all was a trap, he had his sword floating meters above his head out of sight. And it was aimed right at you.

You obeyed this time, slipping off your hood to reveal your face. His eyes twinge in horror and delight. Delight, at the nostalgic sight of your beauty. The softness of your face, the sweetness of your eyes, those lips he familiarized all to well with. Horror, at the almost faded symbol engraved onto your forehead. At the lack of life or passion in your eyes and the deep eyebags that accompanied it. Horror, of how your pretty eyes had turned red- a token of your endless bloodlust.

It was so painfully beautiful to look at.

He knew you were smart, and judging by your eye color, he knew you'd be a difficult vampire to fight. But despite it all, his guard had fell to ashes.

"(Y/n)," he whispered.

"I haven't heard that name in a while... My queen gave me a new one," you spoke. "The person you knew before is dead. And only I remain."

"Don't do this, you don't want this," Adrian pleads. Unexpectedly, he stands up from the table, his eyes lost in empathy. A gaze that seemed to sear your body worse.

You flinch backward in surprise, but he continued towards you.

You stand your ground, and as his presence draws near, his chest inches away from touching yours, you pull your dagger to rest against his neck.

But he's close, awfully so. His cosmic aura radiating against you, his beautiful luscious hair coating his shoulders, his gaze soft and thoughtful.

You only hardened yours, not allowing a droplet of emotion to slip through, not even for a second.

Adrian swallows thickly, feeling the blade caress his skin for every movement. You were shutting down on him, something he's seen before. He saw it the best the day he tried to save you, and you blindly shut away from him, unable to see the rush of hindi vampires barreling out towards the both of you.

Selfishly, he didn't care about saving that city that day; he only wanted you.

He would've took you so far, he would've cared for you until the end of your days.

He yearned after you for so long.

It was his fault you were swarmed. There were too many to count. Too many to fight.

He didnt mean to leave you in that hoard.

He knew the world still needed him, he couldnt die saving you.

But... He came back for you.

Hell, it was too late.

His eyes weaken, tears brewing up, "I deserve it, my love. I've forsaken you- I failed you."

What you didn't expect was those words.

You push him towards the bed as he speaks, forcing him to sit and keeping your blade against his neck as he did so.

"My love," he cries pitifully, his hand weakly grabbing your wrist that held the dagger. "Dying by your hands is befitting. I've lived for too long," he whispers. His beauty glows, shining brighter for every tear.

You push him again, and he lays back onto the bed, gorgeous locks sprawled out. Automatically, he seems to crawl backward, only his feet dangle off the edge. You force yourself on top of him, your hand by his head, the other holding the dagger to his neck, with your knees on either side of him.

Staring at your dead face was worse. He didn't know how to please you. He begs, "Please, my love... Speak to me... My (y/n), my sweet..."

If he failed anyone the most on the world, it was you. You were the frankstein that his mishaps created.

He knew it then, he should have killed you. Spare you of the new life that awaited you. He knew it when you shook in his arms, how you spoke with bloody fangs and an even bloodier chin. He couldn't do it. So selfishly he left you alive.

This was all his fault.

You sliced a small cut on the side of his neck, shallow enough for blood to ooze. He whimpers out, eyes frantically shutting, his knee surging in distress. You dive down, licking a delicious stripe on his neck. His blood is deliciously sweet with a tart aftertaste. Your free hand cups his neck as you bury your nose into his flesh, fangs threatening to puncture his skin as you slurped and licked.

He groans out, head arched backwards into the plush sheets, hands weakly grabbing fistful of your cloak. In his desperation to grip onto you, the cloak slips off, so his hands spring onto your shirt instead. A trail of delicate whimpers and groans mewl from his pink lips.

You can't take it anymore, and puncture your fangs into his flesh. He cries out, fistfuls of your shirt growing intense wrinkles. You pull out your fangs and slurp and suck out his crimson as it explodes to meet you, body growing franatic on the taste. Your knees weaken as you hapzardly sit down on him. Beneath the hilt of your ass, you can feel his achingly hard cock, your freehand grips his flesh in primal surprise.

He turns slightly, forcing you out of his neck to look at him. It's quite the sight to see you, lips and chin stained with his blood. "(Y/n)... (Y/n)," he's begging pitifully, his face flushed. You don't let him speak for long, as you bury your lips against his, creating sweet music.

The sound of liplocking overtakes the crisp air, as you slurp up his tongue as he feeds it to you. Your hands fall lower onto his body, caressing down his muscular shoulders, your dagger meeting his chest. You break away, slicing another shallow cut on his pale chest.

He groans and arches into the blade. You sink quickly into the taste, licking it up bountifully.

You pull back to admire your work. Adrian laid sprawled beneath you, his gorgeous hair mingling with the white linen, his mouth agape and flushed, your saliva trailing from the corners of it. His neck sliced and punctured, as the remains of his blood dribbled onto the sheets. He was beautiful.

You softly grind your hips down against his, moaning out quietly, licking the blade as you did so. Adrian cried out, "W-Wait," and grabbed your hips, locking them in place.

You looked at him, and confusion poisoned his features.

"T-Talk to me," he grunts.

Your eyes narrow down on him, "What is it to talk about, Adrian? Our bodies want eachother."

Adrian shuts his eyes close, pain dotting his features. He sputters breathlessly, "I can't do this-- I'm too old... I can't be spontaneous like b--"

You quirk, "You cannot stay up anymore?"

His face brims red, "No! I can-- It's just... (Y/n), I don't want to just sleep with you and forget it-- I loved you... I lo-- care for you... I want you. I don't want to forget you."

Unsettling feeling springs up in your chest. "I'm loyal to no one," you spit. "You killed my master." You pull away from him, dagger still in hand, as you slide off the bed.

Adrian shoots up, rushing after you as you continue toward the window. He captured your hips within seconds, barely dodging the slice you swung as you turned around. He took the opportunity to pull you close, grabbing your wrist and holding your dagger back from another slice.

You groan and struggle like a wild cat. He sinks into your wrist, softly placing a kiss under where his thumb held you. He drug his nose upwards to your palm, where it hit the hilt of the dagger. In surprise, you dropped it, and it landed with a clamor. He follows up your hand until he rests his cheek on your open palm, forcing you to softly carress the skin.

Your breath hitches, that feeling springing up more and more. You try to claw away from it, your free hand to swing at his chest, your foot raising up to kick him uncoordinatedly.

Hurt flashes through Adrian's eyes, but he lets you go. Unexpectedly, you flew back into the closed windows, your heel getting caught on the curtains, making you slip back, falling on your butt to the floor.

In this vulnerable position, Alucard stood above you, hands behind his back, his gown giving away glimpses of his sleek legs. Frantic, your head begins to spin, as your eyes drag back and forth over his body. You whimper out headless sounds as you grab onto the curtain for support. Desperate to gain some sanity.

His smell, his taste, the sight of him.

It wasn't just overcoming lust, but instead this weird feeling from the depths of your brain, crying out. Some sort of emotional response. And emotions were the one thing you sought to control. What Erzsebet saw as a flaw in you.

Listening to your emotions.

Your eyes shut close, freezing up as you tenderly hold onto the curtain. Adrian's quiet, deathly so. You can feel his eyes draw in on you, and somehow it's worse than the fear.

He reaches and opens the window for you, the midnight breeze flying in as the glass door reveals the balcony you entered in from. You eyes pop open, glimpsing out towards the night sky.

Yet you can't bring yourself to leave either.

Your knuckles grow white.

"Leave," you hear him mutter, "You can leave..."

Your head whips to see him, an aura of empathy radiating off his form. All he sees is just another scared vampire.

But he knows if you leave, you might not ever return.

You've got too much of yourself to figure out.

You know that you should leave.

You slowly stand.

His heart burns and he looks off at the floor.

You finally, finally speak, "I-I can't leave... Surely, I'll die." Your heart pounds at the words.

"I'll tell Maria about you," he whispers.

No. He didn't understand. You didn't mean it physically. This was horrifying. Having to explain what you wanted most. Frustrated tears pinged the corners of your eyes, your hands shaking. Stress overcoming your pinched eyebrows.

"Al-- Adrian... Adrian... Adrian," is all you can muster out, a pitiful plea. "Adrian I'll die--"

But before you could finish the sentence, you were involved into a strong embrace. You could hear his cries against your ears as he kept bitterly, your hands weakly holding onto the clothes that hang around his back.

"Stay here-- stay here forever," he yearns.

Your heart bursts. "O-Okay-- Okay Adrian,"

And just as the morning sun peaks in from the clouds, Adrian pulls you back into his dark room, and shuts the door.

You are pulled deeper and deeper into his midnight lair, pulled until your feet crawl against the bed, where he tucks you under with him, encasing you in his arms and in velvet sheets. He seems to swallow you whole, entrapped in his love with nowhere to go. With nothing but fear of rejection lingering him, he braves through it, softly peppering the back of your neck with subtle kisses.

And with nothing but the fear of love in your belly, you brave it, ragdolling and leaving yourself vulnerable to his affections, and also how they make you feel.

Your back is flush against his chest, his legs against the back of yours as he spoons you. He has a strong arm laid on your body. It hooks through your chest and rests his hands on place by your sternum and collarbone. He's holding you there, holding you as he whispers, painful affections and peppers' sweet kisses.

You focus merely on calming your stress, sucking in slow breaths, desperate to process the last hour with him. Its hard to think of anything at all, when you hear his smooth, husky voice calling out your name caressing and kissing you.

You wince and groan out, as his lips dip to the start of your back. His hand releases you to pull at the laces of your shirt, undoing it to reveal more of your back. Your skin is cold, but definitely not uncharacteristic of a vampire.

His large, warm hand caresses the skin, and you arch and sigh out. The warmth drags deliciously slow strokes up and down your sensitive back, his thumb trailing your spine. He reaches and pulls the shirt off one side of your shoulder as he dips into it to kiss it.

You whimper, tension feeling the area.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he whispers.

You try to figure out his intentions by saying that, but the only thing that seems to spring up is genuine care. Tears prick your eyes again. You hate to say there's only one thing your body wants to say. But you have to be vulnerable to let it take over. You wince, and with shaky breath, you spoke, "It wasn't your fault, Adrian..."

His hand slips under your shirt and touches your bare stomach, the warm feeling spreading as he slides up to your ribcage, still kissing at the beginning of your back and neck.

"I failed to protect you, I couldn't help you, I regret it so much," he whispers.

"I ran from you too, Adrian... It wasn't all your fault... I was addicted to human blood... And in the hours you were gone, I already feasted on hundreds with the rest," you whispered. "I wasn't going to give that up... Not even for you."

"But--"

"You were powerless before. You were powerless again... You may be strong, but you can not out number the thousands," you pause, struggling either the next set of words, "Besides... You already fought so hard for me... It was..."

Adrian stops, eyes trailing to you.

"Admirable..." Your tone was fluttering.

He seems satisfied with the answer, as he sinks down, unbuckling your belt, and pulling out oneside of it. You grunt as his hands slip into your pants, large hand going to squeeze the warmth of your inner thighs. Despite it all, you still felt an overwhelming sense of peace. He continues to kiss his lips. You lick yours, tasting his sweet, dried blood.

You ask, "Do you want me, Alucard?"

He whines in your ears, "Of course I do." He's like an excitable puppy, just waiting to get off on you. And like a dog, you feel him start to grind against your ass.

A pleased hum escapes you. Within seconds, you transform into a bat, using it to reappear, once again ontop of him. He gasps in surprise, turning over to face you. You grin, caressing his cheek. "Look at my face, you think you can fuck this? Does this not detest you," you lean in with a hiss.

It was your turn to decloth him, as you raised his sleeping gown up higher and higher, revealing more of his pale skin. He's taken aback for a second, his eyes flickering between your ruby red ones and the fading sigil on your forehead. You open your mouth, baring your bloody fangs.

He whimpers, objectively bucking up into your hand.

How pitiful.

You grin sharply, by now his gown was pulled up to his stomach, his unmarked flesh ever so delicious in your eyes. You also took note that he wore no undergarments, his cock half hard as it arose. You sunk down on your knees between his legs, lowering yourself to his dick and laying your hands on his hips.

He grew harder in your stare. You scratched the side of his hip, the faintest dewlet of blood dropping on your finger tip. You brought it up to your mouth, staring deep into his eyes as you licked it away. He groaned, bucking upwards again.

"Ah, ah, ah... Patience, Adrian," you whispered.

He nodded powerlessly, his dewy hair clinging to his neck and face. You bring your lips to his cock, cupping the base of it with both hands, and misting your breath against the sensitive rod. His cockhead pulses towards you lips, you giggle at the sight. Finally, you sink your nose against the side of him, drinking in his scent.

"Oh- fuck," He curses, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. But he can't bring himself to look away. You were enchanting.

You open your mouth all the way, using the front of your fang with your front teeth to drag the smooth side of your teeth against his flesh. He whimpered and cried out, sloppily dropping a heavy hand on your head. You stop just before his head, where you tongue his tip's hole, using the sharper part of your muscle to do so.

He wains, trying his best not to fist your hair for you. Being so good for you.

You turn your head to the side again, sucking the side of his shaft, slurping and swaying against him with your tongue. He was more than hard by now, his dick long and skinny, no shorter than nine monstrous inches, a testament to his vampire side. It was a flushed pale pink, growing red by the second.

You let go of him, and his cock flops back against his stomach with a smack. You laugh, picking him up again with your index finger just to see him fall, again, and again. Adrian doesn't complain, merely, he uses his freehand to grip the sheets beside him, restraining himself all for you.

Once playing with his cock proved enough, you sunk into his balls, burying your nose into him, and ferociously slurping, sucking, and licking him up. He moans out in shock, as you use your hands to stroke his inner thighs comfortably. "Aaah- (y/n)," he seems to stutter out your name. As if a simple plea would make you take him seriously.

You slurp one into your mouth before the other, then you release and drag a long stripe upwards to his cock, and then to his cockhead. You scoop his dick up one last time before finally, finally, guiding him straight into your mouth. You hallow out your cheeks around his length, sucking him, and running your tongue briskly around the bottom of him. You bob your head pacedly to the sound of his wanton moans, using your hands to please what your mouth failed to reach.

Adrian's jaw falls completely slack, his grip tightening in your hair, wanton moans following out of his lips. It had been at least forty years since he had last had sex, the thrills of it burned his pent-up mind. Without thinking, he slowly began to thrust into your warm mouth, sliding himself back and forth against your soft, hot, moist taste buds. You grunt, adjusting your head to accept him better.

He mumbles, "Sorry- Sorry." But its met with an angry stare.

Well. If he's already in trouble, he might as well please himself while he can. His thrusts gain speed, his head hitting the back of your throat.

You wheeze around him, dropping your hands to grip his inner thighs, careful to not squeeze his cock. He takes this small adjustment as an agreement from you as he furthers all nine inches of himself into your deep throat. You can feel him tickle far into your body, a feeling you almost would've forgotten. Only Adrian's ever fucked you like this, and painfully, it sent pleased tingles down your body. Despite how you gagged and choked about him. The sensation was replaceable.

You were vice against him, a sign he was further than where he should, but hell it was exhilarating. His moans grew louder, his head doting back between looking at you and being lost in bliss. His thrusts began to slow as he slipped out of your deep throat, from your mouth, and came right as he slid out of your lips.

You gasped in surprise, as his warmth sprayed your nose, lips, cheeks, some of it dribbling down your chin. You cough, angrily wiping his cum off your face with your forearm. "How considerate of you, Alucard," you grunt, staring at the sticky fluids against your skin.

He merely laughs, "Do forgive me, love." Angrily, you slip off the bed. He calls out, "N-No wait I di--"

"Calm yourself," you hum. You slip out of your clothes, dropping your pants to the floor, sliding out of your boots, and pulling your shirt over your head. Your ruined undergarments fell just as quick. You briskly returned ontop of him, pulling up his gown to his ribcage. You suddenly pause, "Or? Did you not want me to undress?"

How could you say something so cruel when he was only looking at you during that whole process, softly squeezing himself to stay hard, and biting his lip when he saw your bare ass. He's restricting himself for you, can't you see how good he is? All it takes is one pitiful, glossy eyed look from him and you know what he's thinking. "Of course I- By all means, (y/n)," he tries to play it cool.

Your grin worsens. You grab him by the chin, as your freehand lines him up to your hole. Eagerly, you watch as his face constructs, eyebrows pinching forward in delight, sultry eyes staring up at you, lips parted to moan. You kiss your hole against his tip, puckering to seal the deal. He thrusts forward, dipping his head into your honey walls.

You moan, soon, giving all the way in and slipping down on his skinny cock. Your eyes fly to space as you take more and more of him, feeling his cock tickle your gut, until bottoming out. In sync, the two of you moan sharply at the feeling. Your head drops forward in bliss.

"(Y/n)," he sighs, his hands reaching up and guiding your hair away from your face. Last he remembers, you were never put out of commission just by bottoming out on him. Unless, you too were just as pent-up as he was.

You gaze up at him, humming. He becons you closer, so you drop his jaw and pick up your head. He takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek, just beneath your left eye. You giggle, "Aw, how cute."

Immediately you bounced on him, slowly dragging his long cock against your walls. Your head grew heavy again, as you rested your forehead against his collarbone. "Aaah, Adriaan," you hiss, your moans drowning out his whimpers.

You plunge down on his length, feeling him stretch about your gut, and you clench around his cock. That all it takes before Adrian loses it, frantically thrusting and bucking up into you. You cry out in surprise, "A-Adrian," your moan closer to an ecstatic wail.

He's speedy, relentless, his length seeming to make up for his lack of precision. Your body felt completely stuffed. He stimulated parts of you that where never before touched, at least, not by anyone but his cock. His hands gripped chunks of your bare hips, his eyes fucked out and lips spread, his fangs flashing in the disarray.

Your hand leaned forward, resting your palm against the bedframe for support, your head laying next to his by now, ass bounced about adverse to your accord. It was pathetic, as drool dabbled the corners of your lips. "A-Adrien-- Good- Good boy," you mewl, and it only sends him into a worse frenzy.

Through the barrage of frantic, doggish thrusts, your message gets sent straight to Adrian's fangs, a primal urge over taking him. He sits up, stopping for second, to lay his back against the pillow. You dazedly peek up from his neck, but quickly, he starts up thrusting again. Only this time, before you could even moan, he leans down and punctures your shoulder. He doesn't withdraw his teeth to draw blood. No, it's more so to lock you in place. His fangs split your flesh in second, the primal sensation causing you to arch and moan, grabbing chunks of his white locks.

Vampires fuck like dogs.

You reach forward with your free hand and dig your sharp nails into the flesh of his shoulder, drawing blood. Your brain turned off, and your lust fueled off the scent. His thrusts lose all coordination, and if it weren't for his length, he would have slipped out a dozen times by now.

With a deep, whiney voice, he husks, "I-I'm cumming- C-cumming-- I'm cumming," voice interrupted by your skin for every thrust.

"Cum you bastard," you snarl. No way you'd let him have all the fun, as you started to bounce downwards, fucking yourself on him in time with his senseless barrage. It's only through you that his thrust meets some sort of rhythm, as you clean up all his doggish mishaps.

Fuck, you'd be lying to say your climax wasn't rapidly approaching. Hell, it seemed to make you angrier. Next time you'll really fuck him up good.

With a cry, hot semen floods your warm insides, but you can't even look back, as Alucard's fangs trap your shoulder in place. His thrusts stop as he rides out his high, and it only worsens your agenda against him because you haven't even came yet.

"Bastard, have you lost all manners," you ruin his afterglow, as you ferociously fuck down on him again, quick and speedy, replicating it from before. A sadistic glow seems go brim your face, your moans full of delight. Adrian whimpers and whines, overstimulation causing him to buck, squirming away beneath you. Despite it, he doesn't loosen his death grip on your hips, nor does he remove his fangs.

As your moans spiked, he closed his ears to engulf the airy sound of you reaching your orgasm. You cry out, your knees stupidly giving out, bottoming out on him as you exploded. You dropped your head weakly forward, not that it could go anywhere, but still keep your iron grip in his white locks and your nails embbeded in his flesh.

You two were really doing this. Stubborn fucks, mating like vampires and engaging in a childish ritual. Whoever pulls away their fangs or claws first loses power to the other, a primal game as old as time that quickly overrides your natural senses.

Your nails possesively sink deeper into his flesh, unaware of how your red eyes flickered and bloomed a deeper shade. And for the first time in your life, you heard Adrian grunt and growl like a dog, having the upper hand with his teeth embedded in you. His grip on your hips were tight enough to crush and hurt. It only makes your insides flutter around him.

You pull at his locks, forcing his head back. He whimpers, fangs flying out with him, as a fountain of your blood springs out. It's your turn to finally release him, as you lean back, cupping a hand over your wound. You laugh, "Ah-hah..."

Your beautiful crimision leaks down your chest in waves, coating your nipples. He salivates and slaps a hand over himself. "Drink, my love. You've earned it," you mewl. With your freehand you lather yourself in your blood, caressing and squeezing your body as if it were any expensive lotion.

His eyes shut, hips bucking into you. You mewl. He groans, "I have never drank blood. Not once in my three-hundred-years of living."

You blink in surpise. "Aah... Is that why you didn't draw from me." Due to your vampiric healing, the wound closed, leaving only blood to remain. Your hand goes to join the other, as it scoops up a stripe of blood and guides it to your mouth. "It's gooddd," you cackle.

"I know, I can smell it," he grunts.

"Fine," you sadly part with his dick, sliding off the bed and grabbing your cloak from earlier; patting yourself dry. You can hear the bed shift behind you, feel eyes burning against your ass.

"You'll stay, at this castle, won't you?" He asks.

"For as long as I can before that girl comes to kill me," you laugh.

"Then, retreat to my castle."

"The one by the belmont settlement? Surely they'll kill me worse," you roll your eyes.

He grins, stepping out of bed and encasing you in a hug. He burrows his face against you, whispering, "Then I'll have to hide you. You can't leave this very room. M- My pet..."

Your eyelid twitches.

You know he's just trying to rile you up. But still, your fists clench.

"Oh hell, no," you grumble as you shove him back onto the bed.

His hearty laughter fills the air.

You get on top of him, raising meaningless fists (ones that weren't going to hurt him in the first place), that are captured by his hands. He laughs, the sound as pure as sunlight.

It makes your face scrunch playfully, "I am going to get you, I really am. I'll kill you first, Alucard."

He grunts, cupping your ass and tossing you off. You cry, playfully landing on your side. He crawls on top of you, a gorgeous beauty, and he pulls his luxurious white strands back away from his face. "I'd like to see you try," he mutters, but your eyes move to the scar across his chest.

"Mmh," you moan, eyes lidding.

"Shall we go again, my love?"

"I think I would like that."

[silvergyus]

bitten- h.kk

pairing: mortal!hueningkai x vampire!reader

summary: a century-old vampire hunts for her latest victim, a mortal boy she may want to keep around forever

warnings: typical vampire content including killing victims (kai is referred to as your victim/prey multiple times), blood consumption (reader bites kai and drinks his blood). this fic is dark! please do not read if you are not comfortable with these descriptions!

smut warnings: handjob (kai receiving), blowjob (kai receiving), scratching (kai receiving), dubcon (reader uses vampire persuasion on him multiple times), cum eating

word count: 1,600+

song recs: death- white lies & vampires- l.i.f.t

Decades had a tendency to bleed into one another. Styles changed, slang evolved, but at their core, humans remained the same.

You stalked through the dark, crisp autumn night. Dim street lights illuminated your strides in a hazy, golden glow. You were on the hunt tonight, hunger pangs twisting your stomach, propelling you forward. An onslaught of scents flooded your heightened senses, causing you to stumble and turn towards the heady mix of prey.

After asking a drunk girl with shiny red cheeks to invite you in, you crossed the threshold of the worn-down house and into the party. The air hung heavy with a nicotine haze as you made your way through the packed bodies lounging in the narrow hall. The smell of hormonal bodies drenched in alcohol filled your head, but you wouldn’t feed on just any poor drunkard, no, you wanted to find someone worth feeding on.

You settled into an antique rocking chair, an heirloom that stood out against the cheap particle board furniture that surrounded it. From your perch you took in the bodies in the room, observing everyone in the space, taking in the sights, sounds and scents of your next potential victim. Your eyes found their way to a boy tucked into the corner, laughing awkwardly at the conversations around him.

The boy held your full attention. He was beautiful. Tall, with a broad chest and shoulders half-hidden in his oversized sweater. His black hair hung into his eyes, a shield from the prying eyes of others, but not from you. No, you were especially good at finding those perfect boys, these perfect victims.

Draining the life- or at least most of it- from a victim was always erotic. It couldn't be helped. Their body writhing under your touch, your bite, the way they always resisted at first, until your venom lulled them into a pliant state. It was always messy, no matter how delicate you were. Hot blood rushing down their exposed throats, pulsing sweetly into your mouth. Their loud groans and quiet whimpers as you fed from them.

And if every feed was going to be like this, why shouldn't you pick the prettiest meals? Pretty humans with pretty throats, pretty flesh to trace your fangs along, pretty voices to whimper at your touch. Why shouldn’t you hunt for the best? You had forever to find it after all.

And when you had the best, you liked to hold onto it. No, you didn’t always kill your victims. Sometimes you kept them around, little pets for you to revive and feed from again and again, until you got bored or over-eager. Accidents happen. You hated wasting a pretty body, but sometimes, the darkness within you was too strong to ignore, animalistic instincts taking over, draining all the life from the victim at your feet. 

This boy though, he was pretty, pretty enough to be held onto. Too pretty of a face to be discarded after one round.

The air was thick with smoke and incense as you made your way over to your prey. His eyes, though obscured by his messy locks, widened at your sudden presence beside him.

A century of life has taught you charm. You postured yourself to appeal to this boy as you took him in at close range. You could smell the cologne he wore, sweet and bright against his skin. Below that, the coppery scent of his blood was intoxicating. You could hear his heart beat faster as you spoke to him, hear it rush towards his blushing cheeks. Oh, how he flustered at your presence. He’s cute, this boy. You could wait no longer to taste him.

The night stretched on as you conversed with the boy, Kai, he divulged. His mannerisms charmed you in kind, a sense of innocence that you longed to corrupt. The hunger that turned in you drew you closer to him, to his throat, the intoxicating scent making your head spin with want.

“Kai, my dear, would you like to come home with me?” Your eyes flashed black as you spoke, supernatural abilities turning your words sweeter than honey, impossible to resist. He nodded, eyes glassy as he was persuaded into action.

The moments between then and now passed in a flash. The journey back to your lair one filled with touches and kisses. Pleasantries were entertained, but the hunger in you couldn’t be silenced, not when this beautiful boy was settling onto your settee, relaxing in your space. Your eyes flash again, persuading him out of his clothes and onto your bed.

----

Kai is laid back against you, bare skin soft against yours. He is pale, his soft flesh dotted with sweet marks and freckles, a pink flush coloring his face and chest.

Your hand snakes up from his waist, a soft caress exploring the broad expanse of his chest, trailing up his throat before grasping his angular chin. You point his face away from yours, towards the silver mirror positioned across from the foot of the bed. In its surface you can see Kai’s brows furrow as he tries to make sense of the scene presented to him. Only his naked form appears reflected back, yours nowhere to be found.

"Look how beautiful you are," you whisper, taking in his appearance in the glass. His eyes widen with horror as he realizes that even as you talk, even as you move, there remains only one reflection in the mirror. He can feel you of course, your breasts pressed into his back, your breath fanning over his ear as you hold him. Your fingertips ghost over his nipples, scratching them slightly to see how he arches into your touch. You nuzzle his throat, smelling his fear and the sweetness of his blood pumping beneath the skin. His veins, so blue, stand to attention as his adrenaline rushes. It takes everything not to sink your teeth into him right now.

"Do you want to be like me, Kai? Would you like to feel like this forever?"

He swallows, still mesmerized by the scene in the reflection. Your hands continue to explore his chest, caressing his unmarked skin as they dip down to let your nails graze his hip bone. You tease him, fingertips ghosting over his thighs, dipping into the soft curls that rest almost, but not quite where he wants your touch the most.

"Maybe not yet. Going to let you decide that in time." His hand reaches back for you, searching for something to ground himself, to prove you're real, to deny the image in the mirror.

"I'm real, Kai. You haven't imagined me."

He turns in your arms, facing you. His cheeks are flushed with adrenaline and arousal, ears stained red from bloodrush. His leaking cock is the same bright hue.

"I'll make you feel good now, hmm?" You catch the whine from the back of his throat. He nods, cautiously. "You'll make me feel good too?" He nods again, slowly, unsure of what he's agreeing to.

"Good," you caress his face, gently pushing his hair from his eyes, "because I like to bite."

With superhuman speed your hand grabs his hard cock, jerking him so suddenly he thrusts up into your touch, body reacting involuntarily. The second that you've settled him back into place, your teeth find his throat, sinking deep into his vein. The hot blood rushes over your tongue and teeth, filling your mouth with the coppery sweetness you need to survive eternity.

He whines, a high note that falls as his hips stutter into your touch. The portrait before him is one of debauchery: blood weeping from his throat as his blushing cock weeps silvery precum and his hips buck into nothing. Scratch marks bloom across his chest where your nails rake over his sensitive nipples, but he cannot see your hand. The sight is dizzying. He feels faint.

You notice his color start to pale and force yourself to pull off from his throat, though it is a challenge to. The breathy sighs he makes, the feeling of his skin against yours, the rush of blood all taking over your senses, driving you towards giving into animalistic hedonism. You pull off his throat and lick broad stripes over the puncture wounds, venom telling the veins to close, the skin to heal. He will have two faint marks and a dark bruise in the morning.

He groans when you pull away, the venom fiery and soothing all at once. You stop your movements on his cock and he whines again, desperate for release.

“Shhh,” you soothe him, still trying to orient yourself after the rush of feeding, “that’s a good boy.” You settle him onto the pillows and maneuver yourself so you are settled between his thighs. “Did so well for me. Now let me make you feel good.”

Your mouth finds him again, this time lips and tongue, not teeth. You kiss the angry tip of his cock before licking a flat stroke against the head. Your lips are stained with his crimson blood, a beautiful compliment to his flushed and needy skin. He groans and bucks into your touch.

You take him into your mouth, sucking him earnestly as your hand strokes the base you don't fit in. He is close from your previous attention and it takes almost no time for him to groan loudly as he releases into your mouth. Salt floods your tongue, a welcome chaser for the copper meal. You've fed from him twice tonight and he is hazy and weak in your bed, the picture of human fragility as his chest heaves against your sheets.

You crawl up the length of his body to kiss his full lips, stroking his face as you do.

"Thank you Kai, you did so well."

"If I become like you," he asks, voice quiet, "will every night be like this?"

You can't help the smile that blooms across your face. An eternity with this beautiful boy? It wouldn't be the worst way to spend forever.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror

send a message to be added or removed from my taglist!

[steviebunny]

2. Glorified Cult Leader

Dubai

"So Daniel, do you have any questions?"

The reporter stares at Louis in near astonishment, removing his glasses to rub his aching head.

"About the woman with the face full of teeth? Yes, I have fucking questions! You had that one in disguise this whole time" Daniel motions to Armand with his glasses "Should I assume there's a demon lady pretending to dust shelves in a sexy maid uniform somewhere around here?"

Louis crosses an ankle over his knee with a slight laugh, Armand's arm loops over the back of the back of the sofa and rubs his hand. "No. Nothing like that. Patience Daniel and good things will come, let the story take you where it needs you to be."

___

Paris

The Rusalka moves gracefully through the vast library shelves, fingers gently grazing cover after cover. Heeled shoes moving after the other creating an echo off the marble floors. Her head raises, no longer lost in thought- she sniffs the air.

"You can come out, you're not nearly as sneaky as you seem to think you are."

A tapping of leather soles against the floor much like her own sounds from behind her.

The well-dressed leader she met the other evening walks out from behind a shelf, he leans against the wood shifting his weight onto one hip, placing his hand in his coat pocket with well-rehearsed grace. 

Her eyes trace over him and then roll “If you’re trying to kill me I wish you luck, it’s not easy.”

“Who says I wish to end your life?” 

“Your kind is territorial, I haven’t had the best experiences in the past, can you blame me for running? Not to mention your man chased me, not a very good first impression.” 

“Santiago is not my man.” His stoicism falls face curling in disgust at the accusation. 

“Right, you’re paired with the bookworm.” Her eyes shine and something swipes sideways, blinking slowly like an alligator. 

“You’re no longer deemed a threat. Siren. But you’re perspective, we could have a place for one of your kind in the coven. So long as you behave of course.”

“Wrong.” 

“Hmm?” His eyebrows perk up and his head tilts. 

“Not a siren. Similar, but I don’t sing. And I don’t lure unfaithful men to the depths. I just eat the evil ones, it’s a lot less dramatic that way.”

“You get to define what evil is?”

“Yes. You, vampires, are so strange…you love each other so purely, even when you hate. It’s so obvious, but you keep screwing each other over? I can’t tell if it’s a self-preservation instinct or not. I think you’d be a lot happier if your covens were big love fests instead of the whole master-servant dynamic.”

Armand scowls, fangs dipping slightly with a cat-like hiss. “You think yourself omniscient? We need structure, solitary vampires either wither by their lonesome until they meet the flame or sow chaos in their wake. Humans always search for more, money, power, love, knowledge, more. Why hold on to this part of your humanity when you can live content? A part of something better, the coven offers such.”

The rusalka laughs and her melodious voice has a sharp screech-like tinge to it- “Content! Oh, so great coven leader!” She cries clasping her hands together, pressing them against her face. “Who surrounds himself with sycophants, Truly the best representation of a content being, yeah? You vampires want just as much as I do. You’re not built to be lonely, companionship is in your blood. So don’t preach to me about contentment you glorified cult leader.”

Armand steps closer, face inches from the rusalka towering over her, he removes his sunglasses- tucking them into his chest pocket he looks deep into her eyes and calmly with a sneer says “You’re vulnerable. It makes you weak. We are not the only coven in France and you will not be able to run forever. Unless of course, you aim to end your studies so quickly after arriving.”

“How’d you…?”

“I may not be able to read your mind but this place is flooding with your peers. It’s quite the story you’ve concocted for yourself, the best lies are rooted in some truth are the not?” 

“My vulnerability is my power, just as yours could be. Screw your rules and your laws, going behind each others backs to make things end up your way. Just to end in failure. May it be a century or a millennia from now, but still failure.”

“Then let me offer you this. Join the coven. Prove to them why the laws should change.”

—

Dubai

“Is this my cue?” Daniel had been imagining this voice since it was first described to him but the reality was something else altogether. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to pick up a maid’s uniform. I know how much you like the Univision style.” The woman rounds the furniture flashing a smile at the two vampires and perching herself on the arm of the journalist's seat.

“You still smell of him.” Armand’s lip curls and Louis looks to the tempered windows for a distraction.

“I didn’t have time to swim yet either. You’re the two avoiding him. I made no such promise, I’m not involved.”

“Wait! Please tell me she isn’t taking about-”

“Lestat.” Louis interrupts as Daniel looks to the Rusalka with a look that borders on horror. “There’s an agreement in place. When she’s here she doesn’t discuss him, when she’s there she won’t discuss us.”

“It's a horrendous deal, really.”

“HOW DOES SHE EVEN KNOW LESTAT?!”

Louis stands and stretches his arms to his companions, each of them placing a hand in one of his. “This seems like a natural breaking point, you should rest Daniel. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Louis immediately begins to escort his partners out of the room leaving the reporter in shock.

“WHAT KIND OF HORSE-SHIT DO YOU MEAN BY NATURAL BREAKING POINT?!”

---

Thank you for reading. Sorry this isn't very long :(

[cakerybakery]

Oh fuck. Rabbit cowboy Adam. That would be hot.

Adam as a desert cottontail hybrid human/animal, herding cattle meets the hurt outlaw rattlesnake naga Lucifer.

Lucifer was injured trying to rob a train because his daughter is sick. Charlie needs an operation. Adam thinks about his kits back home and tells Lucifer, that he’ll pay for it but only if Lucifer earns the money to pay him back by working on the ranch.

Lucifer and the newly better Charlie come to live with Adam and his litter of boys.

When the sheriff comes by Adam lies through his teeth, “Louis the rattler has worked for me for a long time, Michael. Just been a while since you come around.” They’re old friends, but had a bit of a falling out after Eve passed and Michael made a move that Adam didn’t reciprocate.

Adam rather likes Lucifer, he’s a sweet man that adores his daughter. It’s hard not to fall for him.

Time moves on and Lucifer feels like Michael is always watching him. Asking questions that seem pointed and Lucifer has trouble answering, grateful each time Adam saves his scales.

It’s proving hard for Lucifer to not fall for the large cottontail. He’s not used to folks looking out for him.

Lucifer isn’t as clean and clear from trouble as he let on though. You don’t rob a train by yourself. The sins could be the other robbers, tracking Lucifer down they have a classic western movie stand off.

Oooh Cain, Abel, and Seth could be over protective of Charlie, who they think of as just a little girl, forgetting she has venom in her fangs. They could have their own subplot where they leave Charlie out or their adventures because they think she’s weak and won’t be safe.

The sins are holding the kids hostage. Lucifer’s has always been a bit of a push over, not wanting trouble, not until Charlie got sick. As a rattlesnake most people are afraid of him so the sins used that fear to rob people, but Lucifer himself was easy to push around that they constantly stiffed him on his share. And he couldn’t leave or find legitimate work because now he was a wanted man.

He tried running with the whole take from the train robbery, but was injured by the sins and lost the money before Adam found him.

The sins are overconfident that they can force Lucifer to do what they want. What they don’t expect is for little Charlie to sink her fangs into Satan’s arm and free herself, nor the rattle from the shadows as Lucifer uses his speed and venom to take down the rest.

Lucifer doesn’t like hurt or killing but he’d do anything to protect the kids.

Adam has to call on the sheriff. Lucifer’s just asked that Adam take care of Charlie for him.

Michael listens to the story, how this dangerous wanted gang came looking for their missing member, Lucifer, and the money he stole. How they held the kids hostage and Lu killed them (leaving Charlie out even though it was pretty obvious), and Michael looks everything over and goes, “well, looks like self defence to me, Louis.“ he’s not a bad guy, he knows who Lucifer is, but he also knows Lucifer isn’t the bad guy everyone thinks he is since he’s been watching Lu for months. Can’t judge a person by their scales. Besides, Adam’s a good judge of character, Michael trusts his judgement. If he trusts the outlaw with his kids, home, and heart, then Lucifer’s worth the trust.

If he had knees, hearing that Michael was letting him off, would have brought Lucifer to them.

When things are cleaned up, the boys think Charlie is pretty amazing and invite her out to play with them, figuring she can handle it after all.

As the kids go out to explore, Lucifer’s apologizes for not telling Adam. He didn’t think they’d be looking for him. Not with how Adam found him.

Adam asks if Lucifer has any other secrets.

Lucifer takes the opportunity to confess he’s got a bit of a crush on Adam.

Adam laughs, “not much of a secret. If one more person from town asks when the wedding is before you ask me out, I’ll scream.”

“How long-?”

“Hmm, I’d say that night we were camping out to chase off the coyotes.”

“That was months ago!”

“You weren’t subtle.” Adam chuckling as his ears twitch, listen for the kids and trouble even when talking to Lucifer. “Before I let you court me though, anything else I should know?”

“Umm… did I tell you my ex-wife is the desert queen?”

“The outlaw?”

Lucifer nods.

“Well, what’s one more body in the ground if she comes around?” Adam pulls Lucifer into a kiss. “I like spring weddings and Christmas engagements. Best find me a pretty ring.”

[kaiyatoast]

peachy - theo raeken

summary: theo gives you a ride home pairings: theo raeken x gn!reader w/c: 1147

“theo’s staring at you.”

your head snapped up from the ground, turning in the direction of your strawberry blonde best friend. you gave her a questioning look and she pointed in the boy’s direction. you looked there and sure enough, he was looking straight at you. your cheeks heated up and you smiled softly at him, feeling the usual fluttering of your heart whenever you looked at him.

it was obvious you had some sort of attraction towards him. before he killed your brother, after he killed him, and after he came back from hell. you’ve always found him good looking. how his soft brown hair fell over his face, his gorgeous blue eyes, the small smile on his soft, kissable lips that was always present around you, his really nice bice-

“y/n! are you listening?” stiles exclaimed, jolting you out of your thoughts. your cheeks heated up further as you looked away from theo. you nodded sheepishly. lydia nudged you with a small smirk and a wink. in turn, you playfully growled at her, showing her your fangs. she rolled her eyes at you and linked your arms together.

you kept yourself from staring at theo for the rest of the pack meeting, only glancing at him every so often. every time you looked at him, he’d already have his eyes on you with a small smile on his face. when the meeting was over, everyone left. you walked off with lydia and she was already grilling you.

“are you going to do anything?” she asked. you gave her a confused look.

“do what with who?”

“theo. are you going to do anything about your very obvious attraction to him?” the strawberry blonde asked you. you shook your head as scott joined you, walking alongside you.

“it is not obvious,” you scowled. both lydia and scott looked at each other before looking back at you.

“it’s very obvious, y/n. everyone could see how attracted you are to each other,” lydia said. scott nodded.

“we could even smell it,” he added with a boyish grin. you rolled your eyes at your alpha and best friend.

“fine. but it’s one sided. but i do not have that much attraction to him anyways,” you lied.

“we know you’re lying,” lydia and scott said. you walked backwards so that you were facing them.

“i’m not lying,” you lied again. “what would i be attracted to anyways? his eyes? hair? face? body? nuh uh, i don’t think so.”

“i think it’s all of it,” lydia piped in unhelpfully. you gave her a flat look before continuing.

“besides, all this attraction is only temporary. i haven’t been crushing on him for a while,” you said and lydia gave you an unconvinced look. scott glanced behind you but you ignored it.

“besides, i’ll just avoid him so i don’t have to deal with his goodlooking-ness,” you continued with a nod.

“who are you avoiding?” a familiar voice asked and you turned, almost tripping over your two feet. you felt the usual flutter in your stomach when theo gave you a small smirk.

“uh, no one?” you said, biting the insides of your cheek. he chuckled and the sound made you smile.

“oh! theo! you’re here! perfect. can you drop y/n? i have things that i need to do and scott has some place he needs to be, thanks,” lydia said before pulling scott with her so that you were left alone with theo.

goddamnit lydia.

“uh, you don’t have to drop me, i think stiles is still here,” you said, biting your lips.

“it’s fine, i’ll drop you off,” theo said with the charming smile still on his face. he held his hand to you and without any hesitation, you took it. he interlocked your fingers as you walked to his truck. the two of you talked as he drove, with one of his hands on your thigh. your eyes kept glancing down at it before looking up again.

you tried to focus on the conversation, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the warmth on your thigh. or how his hand covered your entire thigh. and wow, he had really nice hands. you wondered how his hands would fe-

“y/n? you alright?” theo asked. your eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“yep, all cool,” you nodded. all was decidedly not cool, but that was because of the warmth you could feel. and the tingles. you wondered what it would feel like on yo-

“are you sure? you seem really distracted,” theo smirked. he could probably hear how your heartbeat was all over the place. he parked the car in front of your house, turning to focus on you. 

“yes i’m sure. everything’s peachy.”

“peachy?”

"yes peachy. everything's fine and peachy. thanks for the ride, raeken." you glared at him, suddenly mad at him for teasing you when he knew that you had a not-really-there, tinsy-small crush on him. 

you turned to open the door, but before you could, his hand reached out to grasp your forearm.

"what, theo?" you asked, your anger dissipating. you knew that you were unfair to him, and that you were truly annoyed at yourself, for not saying anything, but also not being able to get over him.

"sorry, it was unfair for me to snap at you."

"it's alright. you wanna tell me what's really on your mind? and what got you so annoyed?"

you let out a small, unamused laugh. "no, it's alright. i'll get over it. don't worry about it. you probably have something better to do."

"you're right. i have something better to do," theo agreed. the words came originally from your lips, but it still caused you to flinch.

you gave him a tight smile. "okay. wouldn't want to take up more of your time."

you turned to the door again, using your other hand to open the door and pulling your arm from him. "thanks for the ride."

you heard him growl. before you could ask him what his problem was, you felt theo pull you in by your shoulders and your lips on his.

it took you a moment before you could respond. you kissed him back, just as he was about to pull away. you melted into the kiss, and into his hand, which moved to gently hold your face.

you moved your hand to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. his tongue nudged your lips, and you obliged, opening them to meet his.

when you had to come up for air, you moved back, but theo rested his forehead against yours.

"told you i had better things to do," theo grinned. you rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, he lifted you up and sat you on his lap, moving in to kiss you again.

yep, definitely better things to do

[oh-theseus]

the sound

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader, astarion ancunin x gn!tav summary: your relationship with astarion has ran its course, but what happens when he recognizes the sound of your heart in a crowded tavern? word count: 4,071 a/n: this is post-game spawn astarion!! he's a freak here. like he's kind of a obsessed weirdo. idk, i wanted to play into all the weird things vampires can do 🤷‍♀️ also shamelessly admitting that the basis of this comes from 'the sound' by the 1975. def recommend giving it a listen :) anyways though SORRY I WAS GONE!! hope you guys accept this as a decent apology gift <33

warnings: ooc spawn!astarion, mean/toxic astarion, he's also kinda obsessed, astarion chokes reader???, blood depictions, blood drinking, stalker astarion if you squint, not a happy ending. SORRY I LIKE WEIRD FREAK SPAWN ASTARION!!! lmk if i need to add more!

Your relationship with Astarion had always been tumultuous. Perhaps that was because it was forged amidst the potential ending of the world, or perhaps it had something to do with the insane emotional baggage both of you brought to the table. Whatever it had been, it had not been enough to keep the two of you together.

Somewhere between killing Cazador and defeating the Absolute, things fell apart. And it wasn’t just Astarion’s fault, or just yours. Both of you… stopped trying? That didn’t feel right. Because you were trying, you really were. But it was never enough, on either side. So, you decided to part ways. It was better that way. At least that’s what you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

Months passed, and Astarion became but a distant memory of fangs in your skin. Or, you tried to make him little more than that. You kept yourself busy in Baldur’s Gate, running errands of all sorts. You traveled some, but never as far as you did in order to defeat the Absolute. The days were long and grueling. Some nights you woke from nightmares, other nights you spent with lovers you’d never see again. Despite feeling a bit lonely at times, you have learned to enjoy this new circle of life for yourself. The routine kept you grounded. Kept you from thinking too hard about the vampire you once loved.

Taverns also helped. Not just because of the alcohol, but because everyone always wanted to talk about something. You had come to learn that most of the stories you heard were lies - or at least very embellished truths. Regardless, the fellow patrons were good company. They would laugh or cry shamelessly and were always willing to buy you a drink when you looked particularly rough. They didn’t pry, either. To them, you were just some other lonely fool coming to distract themself for an evening. And a good distraction it was, too.

Until that vampire you were trying so hard to forget walks in. 

For a moment, the world stops. Your eyes are locked on the figure in the door, his white curls seeming to glow in the moonlight outside. He winces when he steps inside - he didn’t like loud places, you remembered that. He looks just the same as you remember him, of course. A man unaged for two hundred years. What was a few months to his eternal not-quite-youth?

You look away before he can see you. And though you try to focus back on the adventurers in front of you, you find it difficult to do so. Your heart pounds with anxiety. You aren’t sure why you’re worried. Even upon parting with Astarion, he had remained relatively civil. But you knew Astarion better than most, so you knew that time did not heal Astarion’s wounds. No, time only seemed to make the vampire’s wounds fester up and get infected. If he wasn’t angry with you then, you had a feeling he would be angry with you now.

“I’ll be right back,” you say to the group of strangers you’re sitting with. You stand slowly, eyes scanning the crowded tavern for Astarion. You don’t see him, and your eyebrows furrow together - had you imagined him? It wouldn’t be the first time you saw something that wasn’t actually there.

The bar is crowded, the bartender working quickly to try to please everyone. You take one look at the scene and decide that slipping out the back door into the quiet street outside will bring you more relief than waiting however long for a single drink will.

As predicted, the streets of Baldur’s Gate are quiet. The moon is high in the sky, the fullness of it casting a soft glow over the street before you. A cat scurries out of a barrel nearby, but other than that, you are alone. Your back presses to the wall of the tavern beside the door, sliding down until you’re crouched on the ground, your hands rubbing across your face. 

This was all rather silly, wasn’t it? Running and hiding because your ex-lover showed up at the most popular tavern in the city you knew he resided in. It was childish, pathetic even. Still, you don’t get up. You let the cool night breeze dance over the exposed parts of your skin while your hands fall away from your eyes. Your eyes remain closed though as you inhale and exhale slowly - you were getting quite good at this self-soothing thing, weren’t you? You hear the door opening and the sound of feet stepping outside, but don’t think twice about it. People were allowed to leave the tavern, weren’t they?

“Ah, I thought I heard you.”

Correction - everyone except for Astarion was allowed to leave the tavern.

Your eyes fly open, and you’re on your feet in a moment. Astarion stands before you, wearing that all too-familiar smirk of his. You watch as his crimson eyes flicker across your body twice over, stunned into silence. Your heart is racing still, though you would wager it’s beating faster now based on how loud it was in your own ears.

“Cat got your tongue, my dear?” Astarion tilts his head to the side when he speaks. He is mocking you, of course. You were right to assume that he had grown angry with time. “I could hear you all the way inside, you know. Isn’t that just so interesting?” Hear you? What in the Nine Hells was he going on about? “What are you talking about?” You manage to ask, face wrinkled up in confusion. Astarion seems confused for a moment too, a distant look in his eyes that you knew meant he was trying to recall a memory. Impatient with him and his growing silence, you shift from foot to foot. Get on with it, you think.

“Hm, seems I forgot to tell you about that,” Astarion seems to say to himself. He focuses on you fully once more, waving his wrist when he next speaks. “Your heart, darling. I can hear it.” If this information had been presented to you a year ago, you might have slapped him. But you’d become quite desensitized to weird things - especially weird things pertaining to the nature of vampires. At least this part of Astarion’s nature made sense to you, unlike his inability to cross running water. If he was meant to live off of blood, then you supposed he should be able to hear the thing at the center of every living creature that made that blood flow.

But there were countless people in the tavern. You scoff - he’s lying. He couldn’t have been able to identify your heart among the numerous others in there. He must have seen you when you slipped outside.

“Your lies flatter me, Astarion. Truly,” you state sarcastically. Once, your sarcasm might have been full of mirth and lightheartedness when it came to him. But none of that is present now. Perhaps time had made your hurt fester, too? You always were more alike Astarion than you cared to admit.

“You wound me.” Astarion presses a hand to cover his dead heart in mock hurt. But he smirks down at you still. “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

Astarion takes a step closer to you. You’re suddenly very aware that the wall of the tavern is pressing against you. It’s almost frightening how much he looks like a predator like this. It’s almost… exciting. Your heart races faster, and Astarion’s smirk turns into a knowing grin.

You should’ve ran a stake through his heart when you had the chance.

“I do not have time for your antics.” Your voice conveys the same authority you once used to lead a makeshift army against the Absolute. Astarion finds it funny that you think it will work on him, the person who resented authority more than anyone or anything you had ever met.

“My antics are simply me wishing to catch up with an old friend. I hadn’t realized that was a crime these days.” He takes another step forward, that knowing grin of his not disappearing.

“Oh, a friend? Is that what we were?” Somehow, the implication that you had only been a friend hurts more than any insult he could possibly hurl at you right now. Had he truly thought so little of your nights together? Of the secrets you shared, the times you let him feed from you? “You wear your heart on your sleeve, my love. So easy to hurt it, isn’t it?” Astarion has moved so close to you now, that if he required air to breathe he’d be breathing in what you were exhaling out. You watch his eyes dance across your face, then trail down to your neck. Wordlessly, he grabs your chin and tilts your neck to the side.

Your hand is on his wrist immediately, the other one reaching for your blade strapped to your hip. You think he’s going to bite you. 

“Ah, ah,” Astarion stops your hand from grabbing your weapon with a tight grip around your wrist. “I’m just looking. Always so hungry for blood, aren’t we?” You don’t like the comparison of your desire to protect yourself to his need to drink blood. You don’t comment on it though, too busy watching his eyes burning into your neck.

If he wasn’t going to bite you, then - Oh. The scars.

Two puncture wounds on the right side of your throat, scarred over from the amount of times Astarion had bitten into that exact same spot to drink from you. You feel his hand leave your chin and push your collar to the side, exposing the scars to him more. He chuckles darkly, and you use your free hand to shove him away from you.

Astarion stumbles back, a look of surprise on his face. It’s quickly replaced with anger - an emotion you had seen on his face so many times before, but never directed at you until this very moment. 

“Do those make finding a little playmate difficult?” Astarion asks, eyebrows raised in mock interest. You would ask how he knew about your habits, but he did tell you once that he had a remarkable sense of smell. He could probably smell the elf you’d taken home last night on you still. You have half the mind to be embarrassed. The other half of your mind really wants to hit him.

“That’s not really your business anymore, is it?” You counter, crossing your arms over your chest. You’ve moved off of the wall now, making sure there’s empty space behind you should he try to approach you again. “But, I am glad you are still as jealous as ever.”

“Hah! Jealous!” Astarion does that fake little laugh of his. He goes so far as to bend over and then wipe a non-existence tear from his eye when he stands. “Darling, I truly could not care any less who or what you are doing in your free time. Rather - I could not care any less about you.”

It’s your turn to laugh at him. “Bold words for the man who just confessed to knowing the sound of my heart amidst all those other ones in there.”

Astarion doesn’t like this response in the slightest. You grin wickedly as he clenches his fists at his side and narrows his eyes. You two always did know how to hurt one another, didn’t you?

There is a truth to your words though. It was bold for him to claim not to care about you anymore, but to still have the sound of your heart so well memorized that he could find you in the middle of a loud, crowded tavern after months of not seeing each other. It’s almost romantic, if not a bit obsessive. Though, Astarion’s version of romance always had been a bit obsessive, hadn’t it?

“Cat got your tongue, Astarion?” You use his own words on him, tilting your head in the very same way that he had done not five minutes ago. You don’t suppress the wickedly pleased grin that spreads across your face when Astarion’s jaw clenches. Yes, you knew exactly how to hurt him. 

“Very original,” he hisses. You simply shrug - as if all of this and him are not worth your time. He does not like that. Not one bit.

When you and Astarion were together, he was always very careful with you, unless you requested otherwise. You had seen that he was strong in a way that was inhuman, but had never been anywhere close to being on the receiving end of that strength. Until now.

You let out a gasp when you are pushed back against the wall of the tavern. You immediately regret it, given that it leaves you with no air in you when Astarion’s hand wraps around your neck. Not strong enough to bruise, but certainly strong enough to have you reaching for your blade. Again, he beats you there and pins your hand to the wall

“You forget yourself, little dove,” he whispers, mere inches from your face. If someone else were to slip out the back door of the tavern, they would likely think you were two lovers with no shame. 

Given that you can not speak, you simply look at him. If you weren’t terrified of choking to death, you might have glared at him. Instead, you look at him with big, wide eyes. They plead for you - they show your fear. Your heart gives it away too. And the way your blood races beneath his hand. Your anatomy betrays your emotions more than you do.

But Astarion’s does, too. In his eyes, you see many things. Anger, of course, but there is also guilt, sadness, fear - hunger. His eyes go to those scars again. Your eyes go impossibly wider in understanding.

Your free hand taps at his wrist repeatedly, begging him to release you. He must see your desperation, because he relents. You would have fallen to your knees while you gasped for air if his hands did not catch you on either side of your waist. 

His crimson eyes are darting over your features, watching as you catch your breath. He’s got that far-off look about him again. His hands squeeze your waist gently, as if he was making sure you were still there. You know what this means - how many times had you seen Astarion act just like this because he hadn’t fed in a few days? And given that he was still a spawn and was limited to nights hunting alone, you imagined it might get hard to find something to eat every once in a while.

“I forget myself,” you mumble when you can breathe properly again. You straighten up, expecting Astarion’s hands to remove themselves, but they do not. “Does your hunger always make you act as a feral beast?”

Astarion winces at your insult, as if you had hit him instead of just spoken. He had thought you wouldn’t notice. But those big, wet eyes of his never kept his secrets when he desired for them to be kept most. 

“Perceptive as always.” His words are almost a compliment, just as his hands are almost comforting. 

“You haven’t come out here to taunt me, then?” You ask, anger seeping into your tone. Did he truly think you would just give him your blood after the stunt he had just pulled? “Were you seeking a meal for the evening?” Astarion is the one to shrug now. His hands leave your sides - you find yourself almost missing his touch. “I didn’t have a plan, darling. All I knew was that your heart was racing, and I wanted to know why.”

When he said it like that, it made it almost sound like he was worried about you and your safety.

A thick, uncomfortable silence settles over you both like a wet blanket. He’s thinking again, but this time, so are you. You’re thinking about the scars on your neck, the hunger in Astarion’s eyes. You’re thinking about how it used to be comforting to let him drink from you. You’re thinking a lot of stupid, foolish things. You’re also tugging the collar of your shirt down and tilting your head to the side. 

“Be quick.” You always were too generous for your own good, weren’t you?

Astarion doesn’t seem to understand what you’re telling him to do until your index finger taps over the scars on your neck. A look of pure delight fills his face, mixing together with surprise and something like mockery.

“In public? My, you’ve gotten dirty, haven’t you?” Astarion says, placing one hand on your side again. You don’t give him the pleasure of a response when his second hand comes up to your neck and traces feather-light touches over the marks. His gaze goes soft when he speaks next, peering into your eyes as if he can see into your very soul. “You are certain?”

No, you are most definitely not certain. 

“Yes,” you force out, tearing your eyes away from Astarion. “Do not be greedy.”

Astarion needs no further invitation. The hand that had been tracing your skin finds its spot on the back of your neck, holding you in place while his hand on your hip keeps you steady. The gasp that leaves your lips when his fangs puncture your skin is anything but quiet. Your hands have moved to his shoulder, gripping him so tightly that your knuckles have gone white. You’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have someone’s teeth in your flesh.

He drinks in slow, measured gulps. Those plush lips of his suck gently on your skin, his tongue laps up the liquid that tries to escape his mouth. There is a strange intimacy to it all that you choose to ignore. You choose especially to ignore the soft groan of pleasure that falls from his mouth when your fingers start to get cold and dig further into his shoulders. A single half-shove to his shoulders, and he pulls away, a trickle of your blood making its way down his chin.

Silence sinks into the (very limited) space between the two of you once more. Astarion wipes your blood from his chin, then shows the same courtesy to your neck before covering the puncture wounds with your collar once more. You wrinkle your nose a bit when he takes his thumb into his mouth, sucking the last taste of you from his skin - while maintaining eye contact, of course. It’s revolting - it’s erotic. You don’t let that thought linger.

“Better?” You ask, hoping that the swirl of strange emotions inside of you is masked in your voice. 

Astarion smirks - your voice has betrayed you. “Oh, much. You’re too good to me.”

You swallow your spit, your throat bobbing up and down with the movement. Astarion watches it carefully with dilated pupils. He’s still holding your waist, you’re still holding his shoulders. Neither of you makes to move away from the other.

The silence seeps into your very being. It finds the deepest parts of you and closes around them like a pale hand squeezing your neck. It finds your guilt - the old guilt of giving up on the man before you all those months ago. The new guilt of betraying yourself by letting him feed from you. You hadn’t even made him ask. 

“Would you like to hear a secret?” He whispers, his eyes back on your face once more. 

No. “Yes.”

He smiles at your response. His hand not gripping your waist begins to trace the slopes of your face with practiced familiarity. “I’ve been coming here every night. I heard you in there a few weeks ago - I only just got the courage to step inside tonight. I was hoping to see you.”

For some reason, your mind brushes over everything else he has just confessed, instead focusing on his final sentence. I was hoping to see you. It makes your heart skip a beat like you’re some kind of lovesick schoolgirl. Astarion’s smile widens, and you curse yourself for not being able to control your racing heart. It’s humiliating to know he can hear the exact reaction your body had to every word he said.

“Why?” You ask, far softer than you wanted to. 

“Oh, is it not obvious my dear? I miss you.”

You’re reminded of the time Astarion told you he loved you after only a few nights spent together. He had been trying to manipulate you then - was he doing the same to you now? 

“You expect me to believe that?” This time, your voice is forceful as you intended for it to be the first time. “You do not know me if you think I am foolish enough to take you for your word.”

Astarion laughs with his whole chest. His head tilts backward for a moment, the moonlight catching in his stunning white curls for a moment and making them appear to glow. His eyes have narrowed when he looks back down at you - you’re playing his game better than he thought you would. Unfortunately for you, though, he knew exactly what he could do to make you lose.

“No. Let me show you.” Astarion waits for no response before he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. As soon as the familiar pressure of his lips is on yours, your body tenses. You are trying to decide what you want to do. But then he presses more into you, and you melt.

You can taste your blood on his lips. There’s something else, too. Bitter, yet a bit sweet. Some kind of wine, if you had to guess. His fangs brush over your lower lip, threatening to sink into the plush flesh there. But the puncture never comes, and inside it’s his tongue intruding your mouth. You let him explore the space of your mouth, your body shivering when he trails his tongue along your lower lip.

And then he’s gone - his lips glistening with a mixture of your spit and his. You are panting a bit, bringing a hand up to touch your lips as if you can undo what you have just done. You do not even register that Astarion has finally removed himself from your body, too busy trying to make sense of why you hadn’t pushed him away. 

You had come to the tavern tonight as part of your routine. To talk with old friends and new, and to not think about the very vampire who stood before you. How had you ended up kissing him and letting him feed from you? You might be sick from the deep sense of betrayal you feel inside of you. You’ve betrayed months of personal work to forget him. And for what? A single kiss and words you know are empty.

“You are perfect, every time,” Astarion remarks, his tongue darting across his lips to clean them of the wetness decorating them. He grins wickedly, then straightens his back. No, no. You know this look. He thinks he’s won.

You fell for his trap.

Again.

“Unfortunately, I do have rather important business to attend to.” He doesn’t even bother to look at you, too busy with straightening out the sleeves of his shirt. “Do keep yourself safe, darling. I would hate for something to happen to my little treat.” And then he’s gone, slipping inside of the tavern through the back door as if he hasn’t just ruined you with a single kiss.

You stand there, heart racing and eyes wide. You want to peel off your skin, to hide within your bones so that no one else could ever bother you. You are mortified. How could you be so stupid? You had known from the beginning that he was toying with you. Yet, you let him drink your blood, kiss your lips. And you would have given him more, if he wanted it. 

You clear your throat - it’s your turn to straighten out your clothing now, especially your collar.

Your heart is still racing when you walk away from the tavern. All the way down the street you find yourself repeating one thing, over and over and over: “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

You’ve never wished someone had been wrong more.

taglist: @bowtomytenderdays @misscrissfemmefatale @letsstargaze @peterpankat @sukuna-connoisseur

you can join my taglist by clicking here!!

[randoimago]

How would Astarion & Gale each react to Tav just being Sherlock Holmes levels of observant and just casually revealing, in a one-on-one conversation, that they have clocked in on his secret (being a vampire/the magic orb) by going, "Let me know when you need some blood/a magic item, okay?" then genuinely going, "Wait, was that supposed to be a secret? Dang it, this always happens. Your secret's safe with me." & offering to reveal a secret of their own (even offering to let him invade their mind with the tadpoles to find a secret) if it would make him feel better or on more even footing.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale

Note(s): Tav's Wisdom is maxed the fuck out

Astarion

He has seen you staring at him. He's made overly flirty comments about it in hopes of either making you uncomfortable and leave him alone or taking the bait for him to manipulate you. But you just ignore them. Like you're just taking notes mentally and it's frustrating not knowing what's on your mind.

It was the night after he snuck off to drink from a boar. You hadn't even stumbled upon the boar when you ask about him sneaking off. Astarion makes up some excuse, but you don't buy it. And that's when you start laying out your suspicions.

Mentioning his paleness (a bit rude, in his opinion), him squinting in the sunlight as if unused to the brightness (the sun is very bright, in his defense), him sneaking off in the night (he already made an excuse for that one), and finally the fact that when he smiles and laughs, he has fangs.

Astarion ends up pouting when you call him out on being a vampire. The fact that you just threw this knowledge in his face makes him a bit annoyed. But his response is to laugh it off and call you silly before finally admitting to it when you're still not buying the lies.

He had hoped to have his chance to explain things when he was ready (which would've been never if he had that option). And so he just asks you what you plan on doing now. Is he going to be cast off for being a monster? Are you going to stab him with a stake? Astarion won't beg for his life, but he will say it'd be a mistake to have him leave.

But that's how he'd react to your observation skills. And now he waits to see how you react to his admittance and if you keep him around or not.

Gale

You figuring out Gale's "affliction" isn't as easy as Astarion's vampirism. It isn't until Gale's magic sickness kicks in that he notices how curious you are for whatever knowledge he has. All he can ask is that you trust him to open up when he's ready.

You had already asked him about the type of magic causing it and his silence on the issue seems to cause you to notice more, much to his chagrin.

He must've made a face or chuckled a bit too nervously when you ask if divine magic is involved with his sickness. You seemed to have an "aha!" moment and Gale sighs.

You don't need to say anything for him to know that you're very close to figuring things out. So he decides to just admit it.

I mean, Gale doubts you've figured out the exact contexts, but he does fill in the gaps that you might have with your conclusion. He just asks that you keep this knowledge to yourself.

Yes he knows he has a ticking time bomb in his body, but just supply him with those magical items and stop being so curious. It killed the cat, you know! And he prefers his cats alive. And with wings.

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

[paranoiastudio]

Defender

pairing: Astarion x f!reader

warnings: no, it's just fluff

word count: 416

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

Astarion felt irritated and even angry at you. You're grupe have a lot of problems, but you, a stupid idealist, waste precious time and help everyone you meet.

- Are you kidding me? - Astarion watches as you and Karlach climb onto the roof to deal with the arrogant eagles that took the house from the bird you met a couple of minutes ago. - We have to go!

- Stop grumbling! - You smile at the vampire and climb further up the tree.

He sighs and is even glad that the others seem to share his irritation. Every minute counts…

But hearing your scream, he can’t help but rush to help, once again reproaching himself for following your lead.

Together you all deal with the huge birds, Lae'zel cleans his sword of blood and feathers, when you climb straight out of the nest.

The vampire immediately smells blood, sees the broken armor and hurries towards you, catching you on the fly.

- My hero… - You smile again, but your pallor cannot be hidden. Fatigue suddenly overwhelmed you, you’ve been on the road for four days now, not making any stops, and you also gave Astarion your blood (every night).

- Stupid little bird. - He examines you and exclaims. - We have a halt! Refusals will not be accepted.

He pitched your tent himself and told everyone not to disturb you that night. Even Karlach, your dear friend, did not receive permission to visit you.

- Are you insane? At this rate, you're going to die, and not because of a fucking parasite.

- Sorry. - You watching the vampire from bed. - Are you hungry?

- I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey. Not today. - Astarion sits down next to you and touches your forehead. - I don't want to kill you.

- I would be pleased to die in your hands. - Your fingers touch and Astarion freezes, taken aback for the first time by your words. Usually he was the one who embarrassed you with his flirting.

- What? Why? You… - He smiles and you see his fangs in the candlelight.

- Just rest next to me, please. - You make some space for him. - I don't want to be alone.

Astarion immediately lies down next to you, hugging you. He tries not to put pressure on the wound, you bury yourself in his chest and sniffle sweetly, hugging the vampire with one arm.

- Thank you…

- At your service, beauty. - Astarion doesn’t understand what has changed in him, but he’s glad to be near you. Be needed. To be your defender.

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune (ep. 33 - ep. 34)

Okay, I might need therapy after this show now, but oh boy, did they end on a hopeful note (I mean that sweet special episode that made EVERYTHING better). I almost don't want to recount the torment that was the last few episodes, but it was pretty. And all of them are incredibly beautiful sufferers D:

Li Lun had a spectacular, albeit short, redemption arc, sacrificing himself both for Zhuo Yichen and, most importantly, Zhao Yuanzhou. LL and ZYZ are especially tragic if you come to think of it. They've both lived 30,000+ years, can you imagine the amount of cycles their relationship went through? They could have been enemies just out of boredom, and then lovers again, and then friends, and then whatever. They both don't pose as very sociable beings, so I imagine having each other in their lives was pretty important. Thus, losing the other one was pretty much unbearable. It's akin to losing a part of yourself, of your body and soul (once again, the TORMENT of Li Lun dying and what ZYZ was going through was palpable).

"I can't stand seeing him so useless."

And that moment when Zhao Yuanzhou needed to kill the phoenix but he couldn't utter the goddamn spell because Zhuo Yichen was in there, too, and he could have been killed. Gosh, give that old demon a break, hasn't he suffered enough already? (Mr.Guo says: nope, not nearly). But that handshake was hotter than a kiss, I swear :)

That moment when Zhao Yuanzhou was going to his death, leaving Wen Xiao behind and breaking A LOT at the passageway, realizing he wouldn't be able to keep any of his promises - to her and to him, that was almost worse than the death itself. Hou Minghao played it so well it physically hurt to see him like that.

Don't get me even started about Bai Jiu and how he held onto Zhuo Yichen's hair bells for strength and courage D: In the end, he was the one who saved everyone. A baby boy who was scared of everything.

And what a day it was for Wen Xiao to lose both her stepfather and her loved one. Zhao Yuanzhou did sacrifice him for her (otherwise she would have done it as a goddess for all those people), but a small evil voice in my head (probably Li Lun's XD) whispered that it's just one city, how many ppl could the Chongwu Camp have infected? Screw the city, save Zhao Yuanzhou XD Well, I'm obviously biased, so, yeah. One Great Demon saved the day, finally realizing his deathwish, which was no longer there.

Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen during the killing - it was just pure heartbreak. ZY manned up (if it's even applicable here) and did the deed himself, not waiting for ZYZ to go full-on Ying Long on him. Instant depression for the whole Demon Hunting Bureau, whoever was left there still. But kudos to our boy for saving a part of Zhao Yuanzhou's soul - just like Bing Yi did. And not only that, he went looking for it. I have no idea what you could do with a particle like that (can you grow him back? I'd like to think so, although Ying Long was kinda stuck and didn't seem too happy, hmm).

Also, the last person Zhao Yuanzhou saw was Zhuo Yichen D;

But still, that ending in the special was hopeful. Instantly made everything somehow less dreary and lonely. Zhuo Yichen's character growth was IMMENSE. Our boy went from hating demons who killed his family, then getting to know so many of them, and one especially well, and even to becoming one himself. And in the end, he refused to give up on Zhao Yuanzhou, saying he'd be guilty for the rest of his life if he didn't find him. Well, maybe that, but also because of their love, which was HUGE.

I like how the show explored different types of love - friendly, sisterly, brotherly, m/m, f/f, and everything in between. Unrequited love, platonic love, the whatever love - it's all been there. Pei Sijing's face said a lot when Wen Xiao told them she was also leaving - to stay in the Wilderness. It's not-really-funny how without Zhao Yuanzhou their whole team broke apart (well, some died, but each of them went their separate ways). I kind of hopefully imagine that if he came back, he'd probably want to spend a small eternity with Zhuo Yichen or Wen Xiao (or more likely both) and that could be a whole new adventure for them.

I sacrificed my night's sleep for this, no regrets whatsoever XD Not nearly enough kittens in the world to heal after this, though. But the show is so-so good.

[kseniyagreen]

Character's special things in Fangs of fortune and their meaning

I realized that almost all the main characters have a special item that symbolizes (and contains?) a certain part of the hero’s soul - supplanted/forgotten/unknown.

And almost all of these items break at some point. But it is from this break moment that the path of assimilation of this lost part begins.

Bai Jiu and his paranormally spacious box. Just like Bai Jiu himself - keeps much more secrets than you can imagine looking at him from the side. Can even contain an additional person. (I don't remember the fate of Bai Jiu's box, if someone remembers it would be interesting).

Wen Xiao and baize token. For a long time, the Wen Xiao felt like an application to this relic, helpless without it, and only after it broke and she spent 300 years to grow a new one, it really became her own. (Frankly, her whole arch has a large unused potential. It could be made much more powerful if they didn't have to dance between censorship and the desire not to obscure the main BL line)

Li Lun and his drum. The gift of youthful love and a symbol of the innocence and some childish spirit, later converted into weapon. It breaks when Li Lun occupies the body of Bai Jiu - the body of the child - and begins the path of some real transformation.

Zhuo Yichen and his blue cloud sword. It breaks when Yichen's inner contradiction is revealed - and then, like with baize token , he creates a new sword. And creates it with the help of Zhao Yuanzhou - so this new sword is a “product” of their love, not predecessors.

Zhao Yuanzhou and his umbrella. Correct me if I remember wrong, but Yuanzhou's umbrella also breaks on the same day as the sword? And from this day we never see Zhao Yuanzhou completely losing self -control (he was close at the moment when people attacked Yichen, but resisted).

Pei Si Jing and a doll of her brother. Pei Si Jing all her life built her identity on the role of the sister-defender. But in the end, she herself killed her brother. And this fundamentally leaned her ability to fight the demons. The memory of her brother, busy with magic and tied to a doll, was her cruttle for a long time - more likely not as his soul, but as part of her soul tied to her role as a sister. But at that moment when she gained courage to fight the demons herself, this crutch breaks.

(I also don’t remember exactly, but did Ying Lei have this thing for teleportation? And it also broke at some point?)

And I find this whole theme of "Sometimes you need to break to become a whole" closely related to experiencing yourself as anomalies.

When you have a part in you that causes a painful contradiction, we tend to isolate this part, as if to put in a separate box. And get out of there only for a while and in an urgent need. And it seems that this mental "box" is felt as protection, but at the same time it is a prison.

Ultimately, it usually has to be broken. And even when you are really ready for this, it can be felt in the moment as a risk of self -destruction, final loss of yourself. Although in fact, it is after this that you can find yourself fully.

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Grim Tales

Bargain

Blake could only watch in horror as Jaune was stabbed through the heart by Adam's blade. Seconds felt like an eternity as he was pushed to the floor and his once vibrant blue eyes had suddenly turned dull. She screamed out his name, crawling to him in desperation.

Blake: *reaches to Jaune* Jaune! No! Please. *shakes him* You can't do this to me. No. Please no. *cries* Jaune!

Blake looked at Adam and raised her hand. A small, purple coloured magic circle appeared and a panther-like shadow beast emerged, lunging at him. Adam scoffed and simply cut it with his sword. Blake momentarily left Jaune and drew her tantō, whispering a spell to enchant it. It glowed purple and she charged towards him. Her attacks proved fruitless, as Adam's swordplay was devastating, yet refined. Each blow she tried to land was effortless parried. Seeing an opening, he grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her up.

Adam: Did you honestly think that you could beat me with that pathetic excuse for magic?

Blake: Ack! Y-You monster! *stabs Adam's arm*

Adam barely had a reaction, not even a flinch. Instead, black liquid began to seep out of the wound and seemed to shift. It began to crawl up and down his arm, slowly enveloping him until it spread all around his body and transforming into jet black armour. Blake was horrified.

Blake: Adam... what have you done?

Adam: *chuckles* I have surpassed the weakness of humanity. I offered you a share and what did you do? Cast me aside like I was nothing. But I don't need you or the White Fang anymore. I'm part of a new era, one where I'm promised the rightful title of ruler among you and the Faunus.

There were no words left for Blake to say. Her best friend, her brother, was gone. It may have Adam's face and voice, but not his soul. For the first time in her life, she felt truly defeated. Adam grabbed the tantō from his arm and stabbed Blake right in the abdomen.

Blake: AAAAAAGH!!!!

He threw on top of her dying husband and slimy, black wings protruded from the back of his armour. As flew off into the night, Blake reached to Jaune's cheek and stroked it.

Blake: Forgive me, Jaune.

* * *

The voice of Blake was ringing in Jaune's ears. He tried to open his eyes, but he could feel an intense, burning heat that kept them shut. Blake's voice began fading and in its place was a deep, sharp growl.

???: Jaune.

Jaune: Wha? What the-?

???: Jaune Arc.

Jaune: Who are you? What's going on?

???: Open your eyes.

Jaune slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a dark, desolate landscape. Volcanoes were erupting and the sky was a deep red. Surrounding him were all types of Grimm, hungry and itching to kill. Jaune jumped back and tried to reach for his sword. But it wasn't there.

Jaune: What the hell? Where's Crocea Mors?!

???: Even if you had it with you, I doubt you'd be able to fight all of us by yourself.

Jaune turned around and saw a large, indigo dragon-like man sitting atop a black, bony throne. The Grimm growled gently and all bowed their heads to it. Jaune couldn't believe it. He was the presence of the progenitor of Grimm.

Jaune: Y-You're the God of Darkness.

GOD: Indeed I am. Though you'll forgive my curiosity as to why a man of your virtous character ended up here. You're far from perfect, but you hardly belong in the Land of Darkness.

The God of Darkness stood up from his throne and approached the young man. Jaune slowly backed away, terror coursing throughout his body. The dark dragon stared deep into his eyes with intense focus, not even blinking once.

GOD: Oh... now this is interesting. In your heart lies vengeance and a deep desire for bloodshed. Oh we could use that *chuckles* Someone has wronged you.

Jaune: I... I... I remember being stabbed in the heart. By... *gasps* Adam!

GOD: I know him. One of my finest soldiers. Or at least he used to be. *walks to throne* Tell me, boy, how much do you desire Adam's head?

Jaune clenched fists. He thought back to all the times he and Blake were pursued by Adam. Countless deaths of innocents had followed him, including that of the White Fang. To see him betray his own family like that, who raised him, cared for him and taught him the ways of a Magic Knight, made Jaune furious. And now he had taken him from his beloved wife and son. Tears ran down his face.

Jaune: I'll do anything. Anything.

GOD: *smiles* I see. I can offer you a chance at revenge, a chance to see your family again. But, I require something in return. You must serve me. You must become my Grimm Knight, slaughter my enemies and become my weapon! *clenches fist* In exchange, you shall be stronger, faster, more dangerous than you will ever become with your pitiful human magic. Will you do it?

Jaune: I will! Whatever it takes, just promise me that I'll see Blake and Anthony again!

GOD: It shall be done. But swear your loyalty to me first.

Jaune didn't hesitate to bend the knee.

Jaune: I Jaune of House Arc, hereby swear my loyalty to you. I will be your weapon to vanquish all who stand before you. I will be your servant of darkness. I will make Adam pay for what he did to me.

The ground below him cracked and hundreds of small tendrils latched onto him, piercing bits of his skin. Jaune grit his teeth as he tried to bare the pain. The tendrils shifted into dark armour and his chest bore an emblem of a dragon's skull. Jaune's once luminous, blonde hair had now become white as a ghost.

GOD: You now serve me. Rise, Wyvern.

Jaune rose his head and gave a threatening, guttaral roar. His journey to retribution had begun.

[misanthropologymajor]

buggin' out (part 2)

plagas!leon x partner!fem!reader

So you've found the President's daughter-- now what?

warnings: parasitic infections, descriptive violence, slow burn, anxious reader, lots of euphemisms for killing, awkwardly written combat, animal death, dog bite, slow building las plagas infections, crossposted on ao3

part one

feedback is appreciated :)

wc: 2.1k

The Merchant greets your trio as you return to the village square. “I ‘ave somethin’ I think you’ll like.” He glints the silver blade of a folding knife toward you. “Could be useful.”

You think for a second before opening the outside pocket of your waist pouch. “Ashley, why don’t we get you this to keep in your boot? Just in case?” You hand the Merchant his asking price before handing Ashley her new steel and juniper navaja, a sturdy antique pocket knife. 

She tucks it into her right boot before brushing an errant cobweb off the hem of her skirt. “Can we take a break?”

“Sorry, we need to keep moving.” Leon walks past the Merchant and enters the town hall. He keeps his hand on his holster as he walks past the flickering flame of the last lit lantern. 

Ashley gives a brief, “Got it.”

You grab her hand to squeeze it briefly as you try to encourage her to keep going. “You should have seen me in Raccoon City. After I got licked in the face by a mutated zombie, I made Leon give me five minutes to cool off. You’re doing better than I was.” 

“Wait, you two were there for Raccoon City? How did you get out?” Ashley nearly stopped dead in her tracks, but you pulled her along with your clasped hands.

“We had some help getting to an underground train below Umbrella’s lab. We made it out with a girl around our age, Claire, and a little girl named Sherry. In the end, we really just got lucky.”

Leon coughs a bit before speaking, “We don’t have time to talk about R.C. If you really wanna know, wait for the chopper.” He wipes the corner of his mouth as he walks past the mantlepiece portrait. 

He continues forward, pushing the door open to reveal the downed bell tower. A man begins climbing through the smashed window of the nearest house. Leon takes aim and shoots him in the head twice before he can fully get outside. An elderly woman in a black bandana shoves his body the rest of the way out of the window frame before climbing through herself.

You shoot the woman just as she finds her footing. Holding the next occupants of the room at bay with shots to the torso before you climb over the most recent corpses. A villager attempts to grapple you. Drawing your leather-handled Bowie knife, you sink it into the soft spot above his clavicle. He drops dead as you return your knife to its sheath. You shoot the final man in the room as Leon helps Ashley through the window. 

You toss a flash grenade into the next room before entering. After shooting one villager lethally, the next two mutate into bladed tentacles. It takes nearly a full clip before the tentacle heads and the other two villagers drop. You look back to Leon and Ashley. Leon’s hair sticks flat to his forehead, and Ashley’s tights have two new snags.

“Let’s keep going. We’ve got to beat this storm.” You shoulder the door open while keeping your gun drawn.  Only two humanoids are in your path, but three mutated dogs scramble between them. Leon shoots at the nearest humanoid as you direct your fire at the dogs, snapping their excessive fangs at you. Ashley waits in the doorway.

As Leon finishes the second humanoid, the last dog manages to evade your fire and leaps to tackle you to the ground. You manage to tuck your head to avoid hitting it on the ground, and it ineffectively tries to bite you through your elbow pads.  Leon pulls it off of you and uses his knife to dispatch the poor mutated canine. As the dog lies limp, you pull yourself up to a seated position, allowing Leon to help you to your feet. 

You check under your elbow pads to ensure that the dog had not been able to cause damage through your protective equipment. Leon grabs your arm to check, as well. 

When you’re cleared, Leon leads off to the pickup location via the farm and stables. You gesture for Ashley to go before you with an over-dramatic hand gesture before finally following. 

One male villager blocks the path forward. Unfortunately for him, he does not see or hear your approach and is facing away. Leon uses his knife to quietly remove him from the situation. He continues his approach to the heavy gate, the final barrier to the farm. Leon’s forearm and shoulders flex as he pushes the door open. 

Quiet voices float through the air over the dilapidated shack you pull Ashley into. Leon continues to slink around the shack. You lean in close and whisper, “Pull out your knife. Only use it if someone tries to grab you. Be careful.” 

As Ashley draws her knife, you walk out with your own gun and knife ready and see an old woman catch sight of Leon. You shoot her in the chest twice as the other villagers move toward the commotion. Ashley clutches her new knife close, yet stays tucked behind you as you fire into the crowd of disgruntled mutant farmers. 

The villagers part to allow a larger bull-masked man to spiral through, propelled by the weight of a large hammer. Leon barely avoids his attack and you reach for the shotgun holstered on your back. You move toward the beast to fire your first shot into his chest. He stumbles, allowing Leon to shoot him, too. Another blast from your shotgun pushes his lifeless body to the ground as Leon uses his own shotgun to kill two smaller villagers in one shot. Ashley squeals at a villager who approaches her but manages to push her knife deep enough into his torso to pause him. His momentary stop allows you to grab him from behind and thrust your own knife into his throat.

As you remove and wipe Ashley’s knife off on your pants, Leon uses his handgun to finish off the last of the villagers in this area.

You return Ashley’s knife while voices approach from the village center. Leon leads you through the next set of gates and onto the suspension bridge. Villagers are approaching from behind and from the path to your right while a distinctly conscious voice rings out. The house directly in front of you, which you had barely even noticed until this point, holds a man you recognize from Leon’s earlier short-term abduction. A large gated fence surrounds the modest home.

“Hey! Over here, come on!” Finding the only option, Leon starts running, shortly followed by Ashley. 

You bring up the rear, and as you run into the house, Leon slams the door closed and barricades it with a large piece of metal. Leon turns on his heel and approaches the mystery man. “You!”

“Hey, listen, about earlier, I–”

“Yeah, about that…” Leon winds up a punch while you consider pulling his arm back. Before you can stop Leon’s attack, the strange man speaks up.

“Hey! I see you found your ‘missing señorita!’” The man looks between both you and Ashley before returning his gaze to Leon.

“This ‘señorita’ has a name, and it’s Ashley. And you are?”

You quickly give your own name before the man can introduce himself.

“Name’s Luis. Encantado.” 

“Great. We all have names.Now then—Who are you? And what're you doing here?”

A crack resounds from where the gate had been. You notice the bookcase near a window across the left side room and run over to push it in front of the window. Leon and Luis move a dresser to hide Ashley in the cavity behind it. A villager breaks through the window between your window and the stairs.

You are nearly done pushing the bookcase in front of the window when Leon shoots right behind you. The villager had gotten much closer than you’d realized, and Leon took him down right before he got the chance to grab you.

“Hordes of them against the three of us. Oh, and let’s not forget– this mob is made up of monsters! You two done warming up? Hope you stretched!” Luis aims his revolver at the window nearest Ashley’s alcove, and you notice a few loose boards in the table behind him. A hammer and several long nails rest on the more stable portion of the table. As Luis and Leon guard the two open windows, you can hear the creaking of wood from the destruction of your bookcase. 

With one foot on a chair and the other on the inside of the table, you begin to prise thick wooden boards from the old table. Leon and Luis kill at least ten villagers as you pull the third board from the table. You grab the boards, hammer, and nails and rush toward Luis’s window. Telling him to switch to the failing bookcase, you hold the board with your torso, the nail with one hand, and use the hammer with your other hand in order to form a more permanent barricade on this window. Luis’s remarks to Leon are drowned out by your repeated hammering and focus on building your barricade. Four more villagers, two being tentacled, are brought down in the time it takes you to get one board fully in place and another partially secured. 

The final nail enters your first barricade, and you shoot a tentacled head before it can stab Leon. You return to the table and pry another board out to give you enough boards for your next barricade. You send Luis to Leon’s window, and Leon takes it upon himself to grab more boards. Using a similar method, you manage to halve the time spent forming a blockade on this second window. 

A crash echoes from upstairs while Leon pulls the final board you need out. Luis rushes up, and Leon gives you the boards before following the Spaniard. The final window blockade is just completed as a dull and deep noise echoes from the middle barricade.

You barely make it up to the landing when another bull-masked man busts through your hard work. “You have to be kidding me! Heads up, one big guy coming from downstairs.”

Before Leon or Luis can heed your warning, a door right behind you slams open. You just barely stop yourself from stabbing Ashley in your shock. “This way, hurry!” Ashley calls to Leon and Luis. 

The door leads to an elevated wooden path. Several villagers pursue you as you rush past a gate. Leon turns his aim to the gin wheel securing the gate, and fires, crushing the nearest villager. The thick log gate blocks the rest. 

Luis leans on the nearest wall to pant as Ashley stumbles into the other wall beside you. She lets out a few deep coughs and a crimson splatter lands on her hand. “What’s happening to me?” You use one arm to hold her shoulders while searching your pack for something to clean her hand with.

Luis walks up and grabs her hand. “Ashley, is this the first time you’ve coughed up blood like this?” She nods.

“You want to start explaining?” Leon’s voice and steps forward hold a threatening undercurrent.

“The cough, the blood, it’s caused by something called a… ‘plaga.’” He pauses, pacing. “Okay, you saw those ‘people,’ right? Well, you have the same thing inside of you. The same thing that made them like that. This, what you’re experiencing, these symptoms, they’re only the beginning.”

“I don’t want to become like them.” At the end of her sentence, Ashley inhaled sharply and began to tremble. You wiped her hand clean with a bandana and scanned her exposed skin for other symptoms. Luis paces away from you, Ashley, and Leon.

“You are, well, lucky. You see, at this early stage, the parasite– the plaga, it is possible to remove it,” Luis paused for a fraction of a second. “With a surgical procedure. All you need is some know-how. And, oh yeah– the right equipment.” With his last sentence, Luis turns on his heel to reveal a jagged scar running diagonally from the middle of his left clavicle to his mid-sternum. 

Unlike you or Ashley, Leon doesn’t make an audible noise of surprise. “Wait, you too?”

Luis releases the front placket of his shirt to address you. “No worries. See, I have a plan. But you’re going to have to trust me.” 

Leon looks between you and Ashley. You barely nod to him, and he more confidently nods to Luis. 

“Great! We’re partners, then.” He begins to stride away. 

“Hey, why are you–” Leon is cut off.

“No time for questions, the clock is ticking.”

“Luis, why are you helping us?” You call through the pouring rain.

“Because it makes me feel better. Let’s leave it at that. I will contact you later.” 

The Spaniard walks into the rain and out of your lines of sight.

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumpuary No.11

“I didn't ask for this” // blood // abandoned

“Look at you, you poor little witchling,” a soft voice crooned. Whumpee flinched. They peered through the darkness, clicking their fingers and summoning a blue flame to the palm of their hand. “Look at what your beloved humans did to you.”

Whumpee stared for a beat longer. Their flame extinguished when they realised. “Whumper… I thought you were one of them.”

The vampire appeared in front of them in an instant. Whumpee didn’t flinch. They were used to Whumper’s antics by now. Always intimidating. Playing with his food… but Witch blood tasted bitter, so Whumpee knew they were safe.

“You poor thing. They just left you to rot in this alley?” He asked, moving Whumpee’s hand from their abdomen inspecting the damage.

“No,” Whumpee laughed. “They were planning on burning me at the stake. I managed to slip away.”

Whumper’s smiling eyes met Whumpee’s. “So elusive you are, little witchling. Let me heal your wounds.”

Whumper bit his wrist and pushed it towards Whumpee’s lips. Whumpee turned away, grabbing Whumper’s arm with both of their hands.

“No!” Whumpee hissed. “I don’t want your poisoned blood.”

Whumper scoffed and pressed his wrist closer. “Nonsense. Come now, child, drink.”

“No!” Whumpee cried but Whumper didn’t stop. Whumpee clicked their fingers but Whumper caught their hand in his and locked it closed. Whumpee stared at them, betrayal crossed their features. “No! Whumper! Whumper please, I don’t want this! Please!”

Whumper’s smiling eyes met Whumpee’s again, accompanied by his dark, intense hunger. The same look that chilled Whumpee to their core the first time they saw it, but… they had got close to the vampire ever since they moved to this godforsaken town. Whumpee tried to pull their hand back but Whumper’s unnatural strength was too much for them.

“You endeared yourself to me, Witchling. It is not my fault that I cannot bear to see you hurt.”

“But you won’t—” Whumpee stammered, eyes searching Whumper’s crimson. “You won’t kill me once I ingest your blood, r-right?”

Whumper’s smile turned up at the corners, the monster surfacing.

“What a delightful idea, Whumpee,” Whumper said, brushing a stray strand of hair from Whumpee’s face. “If you died with my blood, then you would be my little fledgling.”

“No! Whumper please! I don’t— I don’t want this.”

“Do witches keep their powers when they turn I wonder?”

Whumpee shook their head as they struggled in his grip but their wounds were angry and screamed at them the more they tried to fight off the beast. “I don’t— I don’t know! Please Whumper! Don’t! D-don’t. Please! I don’t want to be a vampire.”

Whumper grinned, exposing his fangs. “Well isn’t it lucky that I don’t require your permission to turn you?”

Whumpee’s eyes narrowed. “If you fucking dare touch me another moment,” Whumpee said, letting their magic flow through their body. They could feel it consume them, channelling it to start making their skin hot to touch. “I will ensure that—”

They didn’t get to say another word before Whumper grabbed them by the throat and slammed them back against the wall. Stars burst behind their vision as they gasped for breath that Whumper didn’t allow as he leaned in, growling deep from his chest.

Whumpee would have cowered away if they could but there was nowhere for them to retreat to. At least now Whumper’s wrist was healed but Whumpee was very quickly running out of oxygen and fight and… fuck they were light headed…

“I think you should be very careful about how you speak to me, Witchling. I am fond of you but that fondness will never excuse disrespect or denying me exactly what I want. Do you understand me?”

Whumpee opened their mouth to reply. Whumper let up his grip a little. “Yes,” Whumpee rasped.

Whumper pulled back altogether. Whumpee threw themselves forward gasping in air. Whumper laughed and bit his wrist again. Whumpee was too weak to fight Whumper when he grabbed their head and slammed their lips against his wrist.

“Drink, there’s a good little witch.” Whumpee obeyed, grimacing as the blood went thick down their throat, the taste of iron singeing their tastebuds. “Good. Now see? That wasn’t so difficult was it?”

Whumper pulled their wrist away and grabbed Whumpee’s face in his hand. He tilted Whumpee’s head up to look into his crimson eyes. “Now, you’ll come home with me little witchling.”

Whumpee let out a small whimper. “Ah,” Whumper said and the fight died in Whumpee’s throat. “No fighting. You’re coming home with me, understand?”

Whumpee swallowed and nodded despite their mind screaming at them to refuse, to say no, but any resistance died in their throat when Whumper hooked his arms around Whumpee and carried them bridal style from the alley.

“I hate you,” they mumbled into his chest. Whumper laughed.

“Oh you haven’t even scratched the meaning of hate yet, witchling. But don’t worry, you will learn… in time.”

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (4)

You stand at the precipice of Liyue. The land of Geo. The resting place of a corpse-god, the dragon Rex Lapis, and the home of Archon Zhongli.

Though some part of you hopes that they'll be less hostile, you can't help but feel that Liyue will simply be more of the same.

More suffering. More death.

But now you have a gift. A way to protect yourself. The symbol of one of your loyal creations, and a font of power from which to draw destructive energy. You are not alone. And you will not fall so easily.

You step through a boundary, a line between the nations, and the world changes. Suddenly, the sky does not feel so vast. The air feels thinner, and the ground beneath your feet feels... denser. More present. As though the soil and stone of Mondstadt was gravel.

You take a few moments to breathe, to aquaint yourself with lungs that go unaided by Anemo, and begin walking.

Somewhere in the distance lies the Stone Gate. You decide to avoid it and the people of Liyue as best you can.

You decide to experiment with the abilities you now have so you can defend yourself if need be.

First, you should probably learn to sense them, starting at the symbol upon your wrist.

After a minute of concentration, you feel the faintest twitch of static in your veins. The subtle hum of energy that now calls you home.

You move the energy sluggishly, slowly convincing it to travel along your veins, and it proceeds to gain speed.

By the end of your first hour of 'training', there is a storm in your chest, your heart pounding thunder down your ribs, your blood singing with voltaic power.

It feels good.

You are unaware that special organs are rapidly growing in your dermis and flesh to allow you to conduct electrical energy safely.

You are unaware of the way billions of neurons are rearranging themselves to make your use of this power instinctive.

You are unaware of the way your entire nervous system is editing itself, allowing you to pump your body full of electro energy without a cost to your health.

You are unaware that you could now shrug off chewing on a power plant generator's active primary circuit or that you would register lightning as nothing more than a mild annoyance.

What you are aware of is the ball of lightning hovering over your hand. You grin, victorious.

(Electro watches from their throne at the peak of existence, smug smile on their face.)

Your doppelgänger howls in agony as they carve a spiral into the space between their shoulderblades with a blade that oozes molten gold.

They cannot allow themselves to be discovered as a false God. To be revealed now would be a waste of all their work.

To lose the luxuries they rightfully deserve is so horrible a fate that they'd rather maim themselves to keep up the illusion.

Soon, their acolytes will arrive.

They command that their 'imposter' shall be killed on sight.

Five Archons obey.

(They do not notice the way their Gnosis begin to dim.)

You spend two weeks slowly navigating the terrain of Liyue and exploring your new abilities.

You've learned to weave the energy into your limbs to vastly speed them up. You've learned to push that energy into your nails and teeth, turning them into vicious claws and fangs.

You've learned to push the energy into your brain to increase your reaction time and slow the world around you to a crawl.

Days of travel are collapsed into mere hours as you become a purple-streaked blur that rushes across the terrain fast enough to run up cliff faces and across water.

...you've also had countless bloody noses and scraped limbs, gotten enough dirt in your mouth to fill a flowerpot, choked on a multitude of flying bugs, and nearly drowned trying to water-walk.

Fruit and vegetables are bountiful, but you can't quite shake the urge to find some new small creature and bite down into it and fill your mouth with delicious red-

No. You are better than your urges. You are a person, not an animal, no matter how tempting the idea is.

Unfortunately this peace does not last.

You run across a small patrol of Millelith members, each bearing a weapon of some sort.

"Fuck," you hiss, ducking into the treeline to hopefully avoid being found. It's too late.

One of them cries out in alarm, and the entire group is instantly alerted to your presence.

You learn from the orders their leader is barking that you are now to be slain on sight.

Spears are leveled in your direction, arrows are nocked and readied, clubs and greatswords rise.

You easily avoid the arrows, your body humming with electro energy, and the first to swing their blade at you is met with a spear of lightning through the brain, their body writhing violently at the end.

You dispel the spear and dodge a mace, giving the woman bearing it a blast of electrical energy straight to the face, turning her head to ash and instantly killing her.

An arrow slices your side as you toss the headless body away from you, and the wound immediately begins to sizzle as it mends in a golden scar.

You reach into the head of the archer from a distance and send a jolt of power into his brain, flash-frying nerves and swiftly ending his life.

You don't remember ever being as clumsy and slow as they are before you had Electro. Are humans this pathetic, or are the Millelith just awful?

Five more stand in your way.

You gather the charge within your gift and send it out as a bolt of raw electro energy.

The leader is hit, but does not die. They are instead surrounded by a potent magnetic field. The metal of their armor and the metal of their squadmates attract to each other, and they're slammed together.

The five of them struggle to part themselves, pathetically squirming in place. You put them out of their misery to save them the embarrassment.

As soon as that's done, the gravity of your actions hits you. You just killed eight people.

You're horrified - but they were going to kill you first, weren't they?

Should you feel horrified for defending yourself from people who wanted you dead?

...should you feel anything for these people? Some part of you still desperately clings to the idea that this is all some fucked-up dream or a game.

It ceases to matter when elemental energy erupts right in front of you, and Kequing lunges out of a teleport to cleanly slice off your head.

As your vision begins to blacken, and the world drifts away, you watch your headless body stagger backward a few steps and then drop.

"Maybe next time," you mutter without sound, as the darkness swallows you.

Deep purple blood oozes from the stump of your neck as every trace of your corpse disintegrates.

("I will put you back together, my maker," whispers the Abyss. "I will always put you back together.")

((Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt.5

Reverence (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Should I be working on this? No. But I just thought of this and I *needed* to write this. I did get a little lazy at the end but hopefully it's okay? Wanted to spoil you guys a little with a bit of spice ✨. Also. @megistusdiary. I lied. :) (you do get to fuck her now). Me while writing this: Do I want to be with Reader or be her. Oh, wait. 🤭 Series Masterlist Content Warning: Very suggestive. Not smut though.

To be quite frank, you were uncertain what would come with having a demon as your butler; in fact, you weren't even sure if this contract would be viable or if the demon would accept it: you half-expected for Arlecchino to scoff and turn the other way, maybe even grant you death for such an insolent offer. A demon serving underneath the human? How absurd. Why would any demon go to such extent for something so obviously below the species of demons? For their prey, for something they would eat, nonetheless? Though, perhaps you summoned no ordinary demon, or perhaps you were no ordinary human. Whose to say you weren’t an exception? Though, you didn’t want to flatter yourself. Pretension came with consequences of course. 

Still, nothing could have prepared you for what Arlecchino would be like.

You shouldn’t be surprised by her… quirks, to say, as you assume all demons are sentient enough to have their own distinct personalities and whatnot. You were certain that Arlecchino’s behavior didn’t quite match that of a demon. Or perhaps, she didn’t match your expectations of a demon. Regardless, it was hard to imagine your butler as a demon. 

Demons were meant to be cruel. Sharps claws that destroyed everything in its wake, fangs that ensnarled anything it could get a hold of, a tongue so vile that it spits venom with each utterance, piercing red irises fitting for a being of hell, and powers and abilities unfathomable to humans. Demons are unhuman, even, unworldly to you, or they should be. So why does she act with a familiar…intimacy? Were all demons like this? Well, they are beings of sin… lust is not completely out of the realm of possibilities, is it? Perhaps it came with being a demon. 

Though, you can’t quite imagine a demon behaving like she has. In ways that go beyond amorous suggestions, with tenderness that can’t be associated with sensuality. The damn, sly creature is always looking for an opportunity to touch you, though, at least shew warrants some restraint and tact when doing so. Helping you dress even when you never call for her, her eyes always wander your body–always looking, but never touching (excessively, that is). She’s ever so sickeningly sweet with her words, often spilling flatteries from her lips that near your head. Doing things outside of your orders, though always making sure they aren’t detrimental to you. Whether they be subtle, courteous acts, ones that you are perfectly capable of doing yourself (like holding a door or helping you slip in your shoes); or more evident gestures. You recall the numerous times she has wordlessly slid a cup of the coffee in the dead of night as you hunch over a desk. The coffee is always prepared in the way you’ve preferred the most: with the meticulous process you typically do, which she could have only learned through observation. 

You’d think she was treating you like glass, like a fragile little human that may break from anything just because she is much more invulnerable than any human, However, you discover that she rarely thinks of you as such. Sure, she could easily kill anyone that crosses you with less than a snap of a finger, but she’s not above doing nothing and just watching you eliminate those damned vangrats yourself. (She says it was because she adores the cold fury on your expression.) 

Even at your most vulnerable, underneath your covers surrounded nothing but remnants of the past and your persistent fears, does she hold you, but not in a coddling manner. Only just enough to remind you of the present reality, lacking the consolation someone more intimate would offer. She does not wrap her arms around your form even after your request to stay, and for that, you’re grateful. You must proctor the line between butler and master, but even you can feel your resolute trembling the slightest amount, making way for leniency of her otherwise impudent actions. 

Her icy touch burns across your skin, igniting a fire you thought had long died. You almost hate it, if you didn’t long for it so much. Perhaps it’s the demon’s effect on you, breaking you down and slowly willing you underneath her. Well, you refuse to allow that to happen, denying the possibility you would submit to anyone–anything–before you achieved your goal. 

You’d demonstrate to her who was in control; despite her undeniable superiority in ability, you were the one using her, not the other way around, and she’d come to remember it. 

You make good of that promise today, a day like any other. 

When you were stirred awake this morning, sunlight streaming from your bedroom window as she gently combs her dexterous fingers through the strands of your hair. Your eyelids fluttered before your vision was greeted with the angelic image of her, her pale skin and snow white hair framed in such a delicate manner by the golden rays of sun, making the soft upturn of her lips seem to radiate. Always, in your drowsy and yet-conscious mind, do you think that you would like to be met with this sight every time you rise. 

“Good morning, my Lady,” she says, just like the morning before, and the morning before that. She brushes the stray hair strand away from your face and you let her. On the nightstand is expectedly a tray of food, breakfast already prepared for you by her. 

“What is it?” You inquire, just like every morning, only because there’s the fascinating spark of brilliance in those black abysses. 

You rarely pay attention to her words. You hardly care about the origins of whatever gourmet food she’s made (once you inquired her about how she learned to cook, her reply is only that she learned with past ‘clients’), the movement of her red lips far more delectable to you in those moments. 

She reminds you that you have a meeting with one of your clients in the afternoon as you eat, making you internally sigh. People. 

She helps you into appropriate clothing for occasion, and of course, she teases you. Nails scraping lightly against your bare hips, fingers hooked around waist, fleeting touches on your sides as she prepares you (sometimes you wonder if she does it for her eyes or for the event). Your client proposes discussing business in a private room of some high-end restaurant–one of those that served you a nine-course meal (though you were sure Arlecchino could create something far more appetizing, you had no good reason to deny the offer). 

Arlecchino sits besides you as the two of you engage, dismissing her presence as just a ‘bodyguard’ in front of your client. The two of you exchange information, discuss with the faked pleasantries ‘dignified criminals’ had to uphold, and soon enough, your meeting soon comes to a close. The last dessert has yet to come, and the conversation has shifted from something of business to what would be the criminal underground version of gossiping. As you do, you feel something snake up your thigh, and it is the familiar iciness that tells you it’s your butler’s hand. You can’t break your attention away, though the tightening grip around your glass is enough to scold Arlecchino. 

The ever infuriating butler that she is ignores the visible signs of frustration, fingers towards your inner thigh which makes you clench your wine cup even more. A swirling heat coils in your stomach and your heartbeat spikes. Your skin suddenly feels flushed, warmth pooling inside underneath your skin that only grows with every stroke over your clothed leg. At one point, your breath hitches when she digs her nails in, not forceful enough to break skin but it’s a prickly sensation. 

You grind your teeth under a placid face. You’ve long grew tired of her misbehavior. 

It’s when you decide that you can no longer be so lenient with her. After you and Arlecchino return from the meeting, you’ve excused yourself to your room and ordered her to not disturb you for as long as you remain there. You use that time to relieve yourself from the swelter that overwhelms your thoughts, which are only filled with visions of red-crossed pupils and sharp, frigid touches. By the end of it, you’re left more irritated than satiated. 

It’s before evening when you call her to your office. You sit perched on top of your desk, one leg crossed over the other as you lean back languidly over the wooden surface, waiting for her. 

“Arlecchino when you agreed to the contract what was it that you agreed to?” You ask her suddenly, before any greeting or command. The abrupt inquiry seems to have caught her off guard, but she answers without deliberation. 

“I agreed to serve you and only you as a butler, faithfully and loyally without any objection or hesitation.”

You narrow your eyes, the impatience tethering with fury in your voice. “And what does being my butler entail?” 

“Fulfilling your every wish and need at any expense, including myself.”

You press your lips into a tight line, pleased with her response, but it’s not enough. “Exactly. Kneel.”

You love the look of her eyes as they widen in shock, her mouth parted slightly. It’s a command you’ve never given before, and it briefs her on nothing of your intentions. “My Lady?” She inquires with a bit of hesitance, daring to feign daftness, but from the intense flaring of her red irises, you know quite well that she’s heard you. 

You click your tongue irritatedly. “Did you not hear me? I said kneel before me.”

Arlecchino kneels, her knees digging into the carpeted floor as her lower legs lay flat though you can tell from the slow manner it’s uneasy to her. Good. Standing up from your sitting position, you stroll towards her before stopping only just a few inches away from her. You lean down, grasping her chin in your hand, forcing her to look up at you. This action is almost familiar to you–you wonder if she remembers how akin it is to her touches before. Your eyes bore into black pits, which stare intently, but you can practically feel that underneath your fingertips, behind the composed expression, is something boiling under her skin, like a hot, seething flame. The glare in her eyes are cutting, and you’d be frightened if you weren’t well aware of you and her's positions.

Here, you think she looks like a demon. There is nothing gracious about her now, none of that muddling affection that lies underneath her actions and words. She stares at you with something you wouldn’t describe as indignation, but nonetheless, you can tell she covets defiance against your order. In this moment, you can’t help but admire how pretty she looks, looking up at you like a reverent god. You’re grateful she doesn’t squirm–if she did, the splitting grin you’re trying to hide would spread across your face, tearing apart the commanding aura you’re trying to maintain. You take pride in this position, almost giddy from it, but you know better than to tease a gnashing dog. 

“I grow tired of your shameless advances. Do you take me for a fool just because I am a human? I may be dangling my soul for you, but do not dare look down at me,” you remark with a cutting tone, contrasting your sharp words with the gentle caressing of her chin with your thumb, before pulling your hand away. 

Your other hand finds its way in her white locks, nails digging into the demon’s scalp as you grip a handful of the hair tightly. You let go of her chin, and rely on the tug of her hair to keep her head tilted up on. Your now free hand moves to your pants, undoing the button as you observe the thick swallow she forces down and the small twitching of her form. Her own nails dig into the carpet underneath her. But, what is most visible to you is the soft flushing of her cheeks. 

“When you contracted with me, you submitted to me. Isn’t it a new low, even among demons, Arlecchino? Submitting to a human. Even then, however, this was always what you wanted, wasn’t it? The provoking touches, the whispered words, the little tricks. I’ve seen them all. You serve under me, so satiate my need, Arlecchino.” 

Tugging her strands lightly to guide her head in between your legs. You look down on her, the wicked grin and gleeful glint in your eyes no longer discreet. “Take it, like the sinful creature that you are.”

[baphometsss]

this might be like... an extremely hot take but. what would solas have done if only mythal and rook had been there to convince him to stop? if the inquisitor wasn't there, what would he have done after mythal released him from her service?

i'm wondering if he would've actually just.. offed himself.

his body language when mythal is talking to him is very revealing--he's literally trying to give her the wolf's fang. he never wanted it, he made it for her. she did terrible things with it, and it was used to kill her. is he trying to give it away, or offering it to her to kill him as penance? he is offering the person who gave him his body to take it away again, to end his suffering as an elf.

it's very telling that he turns to a befriended inquisitor and says that 'because of you, i can see the way forward' (paraphrasing). he says, directly to a high approval/romanced inquisitor: 'i will go and seek atonement.' he has been forgiven by the inquisitor, but he still wants to atone. that is something he never would've had the opportunity to do if they had not been there to remind him of who he truly is. he would be free of his duty to mythal, but he would still owe the world a huge debt for all things he did to it in her name, and to those he betrayed in the inquisition. the weight of that guilt, after finally confronting it after so much of it had accumulated in denial, would've have crushed him.

then there is the din'anshiral, the path of death. presumably, this means his own death. he planned to stay alive after the veil fell to rebuild the world mythal wanted, but he also seems to infer several times that he knows his death lies at the end of the path he's walking and is heading there willingly. that is the literal meaning of the din'anshiral. a romanced inquisitor tells him that she is walking the din'anshiral with him, as she has done for a decade. she is reminding him that he is not alone in his suffering--and does so again when she chooses to follow him into the black city. this is so telling of how well she understands him--she knows what he needs to hear, she knows what his deepest fear is (dying alone). and she works with rook and morrigan/mythal to bring all the necessary parts together, because she knows from experience that just trying to soothe his pain is not enough. she needs to address the cause, or the cycle will just continue.

all of this, to me, is not just about trying to get him to stop doing an awful thing. it's about talking someone away from the ledge of their own destruction. all the clues and signs solas left for the inquisition to follow him was his way of.. well, asking for help, basically. varric was right that he didn't want to do what he was doing, but he underestimated how much he was suffering and how determined he was to avoid confronting his mistakes. the inquisitor is careful not to make the same mistake, and explains his personality in a way that shows they don't underestimate the power pride has over him.

ofc, if he had taken his own life, the veil would've fallen anyway--but i daresay that after losing the only thing that tied him to his purpose (his duty to mythal), he wouldn't have cared that much. i've been at that point myself enough times to know that being called selfish or whatever isn't enough to make you want to keep going. the apathy of a suicidal person is a powerful thing. it's only through his friendship/romance with the inquisitor that he's able to hold on, to keep going. and i think this is a nice touch, because it circles back to the dialogue the inquisitor has with solas and the banter solas had with varric in dai about 'dusting yourself off and trying again'. (paraphrasing). varric is essentially there in spirit, with the inquisitor, to offset solas's grim and fatalistic worldview. solas is essentially just... catastrophically depressed and like a depressed person, can only see things that reinforce the negative outlook he already has. even in dai, he has a tendency to collapse himself into that darkness and not see a way to continue other than through terrible acts. he needs someone else to show him a better alternative--which is what the inquisitor does and is why they are so integral to this scene.

i don't think varric would've wanted it any other way, honestly, and i think the inquisitor knows that. it's why it basically works with a low approval inquisitor too, because even if they don't care for solas, they would want to see varric's wish for his friend come to fruition.

essentially the final scene of datv is about holding an intervention for solas lmao. and like an intervention, you can't do it with just one person.