#and then century link fucked me over

[fort-no-more]

any music-related hot takes?

Mate, I started off as a radio tower illegally broadcasting music that was censored by the BBC. I only have music-related hot takes!

Our take of the day is that anyone who thinks punk must stick to a specific aesthetic is not punk, and it's almost always trying to censor even if they might say it's "preserving" it. (Spoiler: their ideas of "aesthetics" are mostly just, you know... it's saying something awful without saying it because you know how bad it sounds? What's that word again? Is it dogwhistling, or is that something else?)

Mind you, it's not as common now as it was in the 2000s, in part because people were gatekeeping against pop punk (which is a different subgenre, chrise, leave them be) and then reached even further to target actual punk groups, but there was a good chunk of time where geezers who were into the early punk scene would mock any new group for being posers, and most of the time, the people they were pitching a fit about were women, minorities, or young people (ah, yeah, hating on the youth: the most punk thing of all, apparently!) As if British punk would be what it is today without people like Poly Styrene, who basically invented the subgenre of Riot Grrl over a decade before it was recognized and fits into all the groups that are now apparently posers. She'd go on stage with a cute bow in her hair and pastel jumper and skirt and braces like she just left school picture day, then scream her head off about identity and oppression so hard that venues had to pause shows to fix the sound systems!

And - And as if punk at the time wasn't constantly toying with how people dress or sound or look, and pushing revolution, all the stuff that people get weird about nowadays. "Oi, these young wannabes don't look like The Clash!" The Clash are great, and also they would have kicked your skull in for being an elitist bigoted prick. Multiple groups can be great! Just admit you became old and boring and Tory-fied just like the parents you used to rebel against, and can't handle a genre that's - that's based on anarchy unless you can look at it through nostalgia.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Not A Joke, Not Unreality:

A company called Quantum Fiber (under Century Link) recently set up my home town for fiber optic internet. I got them a month ago and aside from a few outages it was decent.

Last week, it went out. They sent me a super specific time it would be back-

They failed to make it and sent another, minutes later.

And another when that failed.

And over the week, more and more.

I called and they just read me the same email out loud. They offered no escalation or resources. Every time, they fail. I have not had internet for my house in a week, and this morning I got this one-

I looked into other people having the same problem and found this-

Edit forgot link

That's not something called a "766" line, that's them fucking up my city 766 times. This company is fucking shit, and I'm sick of this. I've filed an FCC complaint but those take a month to even get a reply.

So I'm hoping my 173,365 followers can help make this show of their ineptitude and callousness go viral. Please.

They are in a time of massive expansion into many new states and cities. I am asking anyone so inclined with a few minutes to spare to find your town or state's government information technology office or liaison, or just a local government representative of any kind, and write them a quick note stating that this company destroys town utilities and offers absolute frustrating failures of service in return.

If you have Quantum Fiber and have been similarly failed by them, please file an FCC complaint. You might at least get a free month out of it.

If you work with a news source or popular blog, please boost this however you can.

If you are on any app on which they are present, please feel free to write or tag them and let them know they have failed their customers and cities they work with.

Please do not engage in threats or harassment of any form. Keep this legal, civil, and proper so that it can create a legal basis and record of good citizen interaction on the part of this company's victims. I am asking for help in a grassroots campaign, not a violent or prank-filled heap that just gets people in trouble. AND DO NOT FOR ANY REASON EVER PESTER THE WORKERS, PHONE REPS AND TECHNICIANS THEY HAVE OUT THERE. This is the corporation's fault, not the poor folks they employ who they likely try to make take the backlash.

If you have any other ideas on how to hold a mega-corp responsible for the shit they put their customers through, please comment and recommend. I am sick of this shit. I know there are worse things happening and even worse companies doing horrid things right now. But maybe this one is new/small enough that a viral campaign can kick them where it hurts and get them to act more responsibly to their customers and safely to the places they work.

Please help if you have time. Please spread this in the hopes they see it and get off their butts and fix their horrible shit. Any random reblog or post on any platform might be the one their investors hear of.

Thank you anyone for anything you can do.

-Ari

[harrysfolklore]

another instagram prompt with madison beer as face claim but relationship focused please!! 🥺

WELL HELLO THIS IS MY FIRST F1 BLURB 🥹 i’m kinda nervous idk why but i hope you like it! i left this open for a part two so lmk if that’s something you’d like to see

btw this is obviously inspired by taylor and joe breakup and taylor and travis lol, also harry ilysm sorry for making you the villain here, anyways, ENJOY!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | PART TWO HERE

liked by arianagrande, sabrinacarpenter and 5,028,299 others

yourinstagram THE SPINNIN TOUR STATRS IN 10 DAYS 🥲🤍 who am i seeing there??

view all 76,044 comments

ynfan1 SO FUCKING EXCITED

conangray LETS GO 🔥

ynfan2 this is going to be the biggest concert tour in history and i’m so serious

↳ ynfan1 i mean the pre sale broke ticketmaster, three stadium dates on each city sold out. it’s going to be insane

harryfan1 i can’t wait for the boyfriend harry content this tour is going to give us

ynfan3 she’s getting ready to make history

annetwist ❤️❤️❤️

harryfan2 soooo ready to see harry at the vip box on opening night and all the other nights

dualipa an angel 🤍

oliviarodrigo 💘

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 6,754 others

harryupdates Harry out in London today !

view all 309 comments

harryfan1 MY BUUUUB

ynfan1 what is he doing in london??? the spinnin tour starts today

harryfan2 HARRY GET YOUR ASS TO ARIZONA RN

ynfan2 he’s not attending opening night :(

harryfan3 what is he mad about lol

liked by charles_leclerc, sza and 6,826,239 others

yourinstagram 7th night of the spinnin tour done ! houston thank you so much for your love and your loud singing, i’m making the best memories of my life on this tour thanks to you 🤎

view all 78,203 comments

ynfan1 TOUR OF THE CENTURY

conangray this tour changed my life fr

↳ ynfan2 BEST OPENING ACT EVER

harryfan1 okay but WHEN is harry doing his spinnin tour debut

↳ ynfan1 i wonder the same thing 🤔

arianagrande 🖤

charles_leclerc I can’t wait to see the show 🙌🏻

↳ charlesfan1 CHARLES ???

↳ charlesfan2 he’s a pop girlie wbk

harryfan2 get your ass to the next show NOW

//

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1 and 109,035 others

people It’s over 💔#YN and #HarryStyles are calling it quits after six years of dating. Tap the link in our bio for the full story.

view all 25,364 comments

harryfan1 WHAT?????

ynfan1 NO WAY

harryfan2 nah i don’t believe this

ynfan2 but what about lover??? delicate ??? pov??? so american ??? golden hour ?? paper rings ?? WERE ALL THOSE SONGS NOT REAL

harryfan3 man im so confused right now, how did this happen

ynfan2 lord she must be heartbroken and she has to continue with the tour performing for 70k people every night

harryfan4 this is clearly fake

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 29,827 others

profesionalfangirlie UM HELLO I JUST MET CHARLES LECLERC AT YN’S SHOW !!???? istg i just wanted a refill for my lavender haze margarita and he was there in line too WTF ?? #thespinnintour

view all 2,927 comments

charlesfan1 NO WAY 😭😭😭

ynfan1 THIS IS SUCH A SLAY

ynfan2 yn is a celebrity to celebrities

charlesfan2 HES SUCH A FANBOY

charlesfan3 i need to see him trading friendship bracelets

charlesfan4 HOTTEST MAN ALIVE

ynfan3 he’s about to experience the best show of his life

charlesfan5 THE CONTENT WE DESERVE

ynfan3 WAS HE AT THE VIP TENT??

↳ profesionalfangirlie i think he’s up there in a suite of the stadium with family and friends

↳ charlesfan1 OHHHH

liked by charlesfan1, charlesfan2 and 9,265 others

charlesupdates “I wanted to give YN a friendship bracelet with my number on it, since I knew her shows were all about friendship bracelets. She didn’t want to meet me after the show so I took it personal. Other than that the show was completely out of this world, she’s amazing.” -Charles on attending the Spinnin Tour for Fedez podcast !

view all 828 comments

charlesfan1 OMG???

charlesfan2 THIS MAN ISTH

ynfan1 girl wtf why didn’t you want to mee him ? @yourinstagram

↳ ynfan2 i bet it was a timing thing and not her actively not wanting to meet him 🥹

charlesfan3 is he shooting his shot ???? publicly

charlesfan4 NOT CHARLES BEGGING FOR A CHANCE

ynfan3 this would be such a powerful ship��� ferrari’s golden boy and the pop princess.. do you see the vision…

↳ charlesfan1 I SO DO

INSTAGRAM DMS

//

liked by charles_leclerc, jacobelordi and 6,398,002 others

yourinstagram last night of the spinnin tour in the us 🥹🥹 you can tell by my fave here that i’m going to miss these crowds every single day. THANK YOU for coming to the shows, singing every lyric and making friendship bracelets, all the memories we made together will stay with me forever 💘 LATIN AMERICA YOU’RE NEXT 🇲🇽🇦🇷🇧🇷

view all 69,026 comments

ynfan1 IM SOBBINGGGGGG

ynfan2 IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT SHOWS

arianagrande easily the best show anyone has ever put on, love you sister 🤎

theweeknd The GOAT 🐐

ynfan3 she finished her stadium tour after getting out of a 6 year long relation and being completely heartbroken. she loves her art more than anything

↳ ynfan1 she can do it with a broken heart because she’s THAT good

charles_leclerc Congratulations, excited for what’s coming next 🙌🏻

↳ charlesfan1 CHARLIE ???

↳ charlesfan2 WHATS GOING ON 😭

ynfan4 harry styles you have nothing on her

liked by ynfan1, charlesfan1 and 10,296 others

ynupdates YN AND CHARLES LECLERC OUT AND ABOUT TONIGHT !!!

view all 1,028 comments

ynfan1 HUHHHH???

ynfan2 GOOD GOD

charlesfan1 IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING

ynfan3 wow and some people clowned him when he said he wanted to give yn a bracelet with his number

harryfan1 she’s dating someone already ??? wow

↳ ynfan1 she has all the right do it especially after realizing that she wasted 6 years of her life with someone who never made any sacrifice for her

↳ charlesfan1 ntm that charles has done more in what a week??? (commenting on her posts, holding hands in public, not making her run from the paps) than harry did in 6 years

↳ harryfan2 i will always mourn ynrry

ynfan3 IM SOOO HERE FOR YNS WAG ERA

//

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 9,302,933 others

yourinstagram my first race 🏁 i had the best time with the best people🤍

view all 99,027 comments

ynfan1 OMFGGGGG

charlesfan1 the jacket ????? the bracelet ????? the last pic ????? INSANIYY

dualipa ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

ynfan2 THIS IS SO SERIOUS ALSJAKA

harryfan1 she never posted harry in their 6 years together but she posts dumps about her rebound 😭

↳ ynfan1 as if harry wasn’t an ass who never wanted their relationship to be publicly acknowledged, bffr

ynfan2 IM SO HAPPY FOR HER

charlesfan2 i lowkey love this, charles is proof that persistence is key

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳ charlesfan1 AHHHHHH

↳ charlesfan3 I CANT DO THIS

ynfan3 idk if they’re dating but it’s so good to see her proudly attending events and posting about them and not hiding to please the person she’s with

leclerc_pascale Belle 🤍

↳ charlesfan1 MAAAANNNN ITS SERIOUS

lilyhme queenie ⭐️

↳ ynfan1 told ya she was going to befriend all the wags 😭

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourinstagram and 2,038,766 others

charles_leclerc Perfect race ❤️

view all 44,827 comments

charlesfan1 LOML

ynfan1 perfect bc yn was there so true

arthur_leclerc 🙌🏻

charlesfan2 checo in the back is killing me

ynfan2 HARD LAUNCH YN ON INSTA NOW !!!

leclerc_pascale ❤️

harryfan1 you’ll never be harry

charlesfan3 i need yn on every race now

yourinstagram 😍😍😍❤️‍🔥

↳ ynfan1 HEEEEELP

↳ ynfan2 CONTROL YOURSELF

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 9,643 others

charlesupdates Charles and YN in Argentina today !! YN has a show there tomorrow, we love a supportive boyfriend 🥺

view all 997 comments

charlesfan1 OMFGGGG

charlesfan2 WE STAN THIS

ynfan1 maannn this is what she deserves, someone who's willing to travel across the globe to support her

↳ ynfan2 i can't believe harry just went to ONE show of the positions tour and we used to think that was the most romantic thing ever

charlesfan3 I KNEWWWW he would be at every show once her tour started again

ynfan3 I CANT WAIT FOR ALL THE CONTENT

charlesfan4 we need a charles cam at the spinnin tour crowd

liked by ynfan1, charlesfan1 and 14,382 others

ynupdates YN JUST CHANGED THE KARMA BRIDGE TO "KARMA IS THE GUY ON THE PITS COMING STRAIGHT HOME TO ME"

view all 1,005 comments

ynfan1 WTFFFF

ynfan2 SHES INSANE 😭

charlesfan1 LORD PLEASE HELP ME

ynfan3 she's so silly. she's also deranged

charlesfan2 what a time to be alive

charlesfan3 MAN I CANT STOP WATCHING THE VIDEO OF CHARLES REACTION

ynfan4 FRUIT BOY YOURE SO OVERRRRR

liked by carlossainz55, yourinstagram and 4,973,229 others

charles_leclerc The Spinnin Tour🤍

view all 66,044 comments

charlesfan1 GOING INSANE

ynfan1 OMG BABYYYYY

leclerc_pascale 💕❤️

ynfan2 FINALLY SOMEONE WHO POSTS ABOUT HER !! AND ATTENDS HER SHOWS !! AND IS SUPPORTIVE !!

charlesfan2 this boy is down BAD

carlossainz55 🙌🏻

ynfan3 i cant believe some people still want her old relationship when we have THIS

charlesfan3 charlie's popstar boyfriend era

yourinstagram thank you for being here 🥺

↳ ynfan1 SHE DESERVES THIS AND MORE

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 29,265 others

thepopbuzz YN and Charles Leclerc spotted on a yatch in the Bahamas, the couple seems to be enjoying their days off before they have to go back to touring and racing respectively. Tap the link in our bio for more details 👌

view all 6,022 comments

charlesfan1 AHHHHHHHHH

ynfan1 i love one fairytale couple

harryfan1 trying to rewrite history i see

ynfan2 WE STAN

charlesfan2 that should be me

ynfan3 finally a boyfriend who likes pda

charlesfan3 I LOVE THEM SO BAD

liked by yourinstagram, arthur_leclerc and 4,027,119 others

charles_leclerc I wanted to take pictures of my girl but she beat me to it

A much needed break

view all 58,266 comments

charlesfan1 STOP THIS

ynfan1 IM SPIRALING

carlossainz55 Enjoy mates 🙌🏻

lilyhme cuties 💓

charlesfan2 THE BOYFRIEND CONTENT I SIGNED UP FOR

ynfan2 HIS 🥹 GIRL 🥹

yourinstagram lover booooy ❤️

↳ ynfan3 AHHHH MY HEART

charlesfan3 we love simp charlieeee

ynfan4 i can’t stress how happy this makes me. from running to get in a van to this

liked by arianagrande, charles_leclerc and 10,278,683 others

yourinstagram SURPRISE !! my new album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT is coming soon 🤍

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND POETRY

view all 102,826 comments

ynfan1 KAHAIAJAYAABAJAI

ynfan2 WHAT ON EARTH

oliviarodrigo NO WAY ‼️‼️‼️

conangray thank you mother for constantly serving

ynfan3 THE COVER ??? THE NAME ?? THAT LYRIC ??? we’re not ready

charlesfan1 oooohhhh this is exciting

ynfan4 and fruit boy better HIDE

dualipa 🖤🖤🖤🖤

postmalone 🙌🏻

charles_leclerc So proud of you ❤️

↳ charlesfan2 AWEEEEEEES

↳ charlesfan3 i know they just started dating but i hope we get songs about him

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

.

.

Part 2

.

.

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Sneaky Link

Azriel x Reader, Elain x Azriel

Angst - Drabble

Azriel gets off in the pantry of the River House.

Warnings: sexual content, MDNI

His deep laugh is nearly silent yet it sends chills through me. “Just touch your toes sweetheart”

I smirk and do just that, my skirts raised.

“Good girl” he murmurs, sending sparks of electricity shooting straight to my core.

I don’t have time to preen at the praise before Azriel is sheathed within me. Surely the Inner Circle would be scandalized if they knew the Spymaster was fucking “the help” in the pantry. Yet, here we were. His thrusts are hard and I grip the back of my ankles to steady myself from face planting into the shelves lined with sacks of flour and sugar.

“Fuck” I whimper as the crown of his cock brushes my cervix. Azriel’s deep, rumbling chuckle shoots a thrill through me. “Always a sensitive little thing” he whispers.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day” I admit.

“Quiet baby. We don’t want Rhys to know what you let me do to you on the clock. You’re a maid, not a prostitute.”

A calloused, scarred hand reaches forward, covering my mouth. The borderline sadistic Shadowsinger knowing just how much exhibitionism gets me off. I nip playfully at his pointer finger, which he quickly curves inward, pushing back toward the sensitive back of my throat resulting in a gag and corresponding clench of my sex around his ridiculous girth.

He only chuckles darkly again. “Asshole” I mutter and am quickly greeted with a sharp slap to my ass and another to the opposite cheek.

I so badly wish to chastise him but all that escapes me is a throaty moan followed by a curse. “Fuck!”

“Quiet baby” He coos. “Remember, we don’t want your pay getting docked for spending your work day being pleasured.”

“Says the Shadowsinger” I manage to rasp between pants. “Who fucks the help when he should be monitoring what- The smut Nesta reads? What Amren and Varian are up to?”

The only response I’m given is a sharp thrust and a warm, defined abdomen pressed down over my back before sharp teeth bite into my shoulder.

“I said, quiet baby” He warns.

“Never.” I smirk as his pace increases once again.

“Are you this mouthy with the civilians you fuck on your off time?”

He’s the only one I fuck but I refuse to give the arrogant bastard the satisfaction of knowing such intimate details of my life outside of the River House.

Warmth seeps into the pantry, someone’s started the oven in the adjoining kitchen.

“Hush, dove” Azriel’s sultry timbre borders threatening.

I bite back the moan threatening to break free as he once again prods my cervix. My hands thrust back, nails digging into the centuries honed muscle of his thighs.

“Good girl” he growls lowly and my sex flutters around him. His nails dig crescents into the flesh of my ass and I know he’s close.

“You’re going to drip my essence your entire walk home.” A command. No expelling his spend before I leave. No, I’ll walk shamefully yet satisfied with him leaking into my panties as I walk the chilly, dark cobblestone roads of Velaris back to my apartment.

A soft voice echoes from the other side of the door. “The self-rising flour is empty, care to grab some from the pantry?” Elain.

“Yea, my lady” Nuala echoes as she opens the door. Her eyes go wide as Azriel spills into me. She blocks Azriel from Elain’s view, slowly reaching for a bag of self-rising flour. Her gaze heeds warning to Azriel who, as I look over my shoulder gives her a sheepish look. Nuala has become fast friends with Elain. Cerridwen soon after. And Az, he’s been smitten with Elain for cauldron knows how long. His eyes practically dance with stars when he looks at her.

So I pull my panties back into place and adjust my skirts. Azriel exits the pantry first and distracts Elain while I grab my coat and sneak out of the River House and into the night. I splay a hand across the swell of my abdomen, the slight bloat that the Shadowsinger has yet to recognize. When he does, I’ll say it was some cad at a pleasure hall. That’s all he thinks I’m deserving of anyway.

—————————

A/N:

I’m not sure why some sick part of me loves writing Azriel angst but… here we are… again.

ACOTAR tag list: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @ahaha0246

[sugoi-and-spice]

Taking Care, Taking What's Mine - A "Play Nice" Commission

Summary: A Play Nice AU Chapter, in which, rather than taking the high road and trying to build a real relationship with the girl he's been sextorting for weeks, Tomura Shigaraki baby-traps her instead.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Dub-Con, Smut, Extortion, Baby-Trapping, Forced Pregnancy, Love-Bombing, Manipulation, Power Play, Possessive Shigaraki, Yandere Shigaraki, Morning Sickness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy fucking Father's Day readers!! Lmao! I got this AMAZING commission a while ago to write an AU of my AU (a fanfic writer's dream come true honestly), of Shigaraki baby-trapping MC and well, while it took longer then I meant it to to come out, I'm so glad that I could post it on Father' Day of all days lmao.

Anyway though, this was so much fun to write. Shigaraki has been on the journey of bettering himself for so long in Play Nice now, it was a total blast returning to form and writing him nice and scummy again.

I'd love to do more of these honestly, so as a reminder: I give discounts on Commissions that take place in my AU's.

Play Nice, Burnt Bridges, Step by Step -- all of them. They're super fun for me to write and most of the heavy-lifting of ideating and plotting has already been done for them, so I'm happy to write fics like this for cheaper. :)

Anyway, enjoy some forced parentification on this day of dads. xD

“Hey, hey— are you alright?”

She lifted her head from where she’d been resting it against her gym locker, the coolness of the metal being the first thing to even remotely ease the headache she’d been fighting for the last three days. 

“Yeah, of course,” she tried to force a weak smile as Nejire approached her, clearly concerned, “Why do you ask?

The captain was dressed in her practice suit. And she quickly realized that so were all the other girls, most of them already making their way out the doors to the pool deck. She was the lone straggler who hadn’t even managed to undo her uniform tie yet. Nejire looked over at these girls, and then back to her, wordlessly demonstrating why that should be obvious.

She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, “Okay, I guess I’m feeling a bit under the weather today…”

And that was the understatement of the century. She felt like absolute shit . Piling on top of that stubborn pounding in her head were a pair of really sore tits, a lethargy that stuck with her no matter how much vending machine coffee she chugged, and cramps that had shot straight out of hell and directly into her uterus.

But to be honest, she couldn’t complain too much about these ailments. In fact, she was pretty damn relieved. These were all her tell-tale signs of PMS. They were a little worse than usual this time around sure, but if that was the tradeoff for the relief of not being pregnant, she’d take it in a heartbeat. Her period was only one day late at this point and it had all but paralyzed her with fear.

Of course in retrospect, the fear did seem a bit silly. After all, Shigaraki’s creepy family doctor had warned her there might be some changes.

“I never start patients new to birth control immediately on a Long Acting Reversible Contraception,” he explained, “Especially not teenagers.”

“Why not?” she demanded, “It’s reversible, right? It’s not like you’re tying my tubes or anything.”

“No, but you never know how your body is going to react to the hormonal shift. You could develop acne, weight gain, hair growth—”

“I don’t care about that superficial stuff.”

“... Migraines, blood clots, depression,” he continued, looking at her pointedly.

She looked away, feeling a bit stupid for interrupting him now that he’d listed the more serious side-effects.

“I’m not saying you have to stay on the pill forever. But give it a few months, see how you feel on it. It can help us better determine which long-term birth control is best for your body without any unnecessarily invasive procedures.”

She shuddered at the very thought of being stuck in this set-up with Shigaraki for months. She hoped he’d get bored of her sooner rather than later.

Well, on the brightside, at least this sketchy-ass doctor seemed to be as interested in looking under her skirt as she was having him down there. However, this still left the ever so pertinent issue of:

“Okay, but there’s still the issue of getting the pills. No pharmacy is going to give me these without signed parental consent.” She had the always convenient Japanese purity culture to thank for that.

Ujiko simply smiled and pulled out a wheel of birth control pills from his medical bag right then and there.

“Consider these the same as this appointment,” he said, cupping his hands over hers and placing the wheel firmly into her palm, “ Off the record. ”

And then the rest of the “appointment” had descended into one of extremely thinly-veiled intimidation that bizarrely enough, she’d relied on Shigaraki of all people to save her from. By that point, she’d been scared so shitless she had very little argument left in her to try and reason him into just giving her the damn IUD.

The regret of not standing her ground on the issue did hit her later that night on the train home. Particularly when she thought over the fact that the way they were keeping these pills off the record was by having her pick up her refills through Shigaraki. The idea of giving him even more power over her like that made her feel sick to her stomach. And yes, while logically she knew that he had just as much motivation to keep her from getting pregnant as she did (she had a feeling All for One would not take too kindly to his star successor knocking up a lowly commoner such as herself), she still just had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

So she’d resolved herself on her first refill day to completely lay into Shigaraki for any level of tomfoolery he may get up to in this situation. There would be no forgetting, no being too busy to pick up the pills for her, absolutely nothing. She was ready to rain full fire and brimstone on him if there was even a hint of bullshit.

But to her surprise (and relief), she hadn’t even crossed the threshold of his bedroom before he was tossing a new pack to replace her wheel with. Simple and nonchalant, and then he was just as quick as always to badger her about getting her clothes off already, get on the bed already, break up with your boyfriend already.

It was the same old, same old — for better or for worse. Even if she couldn’t trust Tomura Shigaraki himself, that action had at least ensured that she could trust his own desire for self-preservation.

And that was better than nothing she supposed.

Back in the locker room, Nejire asked her, “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

She smiled at her friend, joking, “Nothing I don’t come down with every month.”

Nejire tilted her head in confusion for a moment before the lightbulb visibly lit up in her head.

“Ohhhhh,” Nejire nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, Aunt Flow can be a real meanie sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, then winced as the action worsened the throbbing in her head,  “Damn it— you can say that again.”

Nejire’s brows furrowed and she brought a hand to the small of her friend’s back, “Hey, why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

She looked back to her, surprised, “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could!” Nejire chirped, “And honestly, you probably should. We’re working on our weakest strokes today. I had you down to work on your fly.”

Visible dread filled her as she thought about doing that much undulation in her current state.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nejire laughed, “Seriously, go home. We’ll miss you, but we love you too. So we want you to take care of yourself.”

She debated a little more internally, one other loose thread dropping into her mind’s eye.

“If I do… Do you mind—”

“I’ll let Mirio know,” she shot her a wink as she clarified, “ After practice. I’ll let him know you just need the peace and quiet.”

She smiled at Nejire, genuinely grateful. This. This right here was what made all of the bending over backwards she did to fit in and please others worth it. To be cared about by such a good person. 

The warmth of that care stayed with her all the way out to the school gates, where she was then immediately filled with dread upon realizing that she’d need to go in one of two directions depending on where she was going after school: the train station home, or the walk to Shigaraki’s.

And just which direction she was scheduled to go today.

She let out a long groan, anguished and loud enough to startle a couple members of the going home club that passed her. For once though, she didn’t care about her reputation, she was too focussed on what a goddamn nightmare she was falling into.

She pulled out her cellphone with a sigh. Yes she knew the effort was probably futile, but damn her if she didn’t at least try.

Yup. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. She sighed as she shoved her phone back into her bag and started the very slow trek over to Shigaraki’s. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Shigaraki said as he looked her over his doorway, “You look like shit.”

She shot him a wholly unimpressed look as she shoved past him into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I fucking told you.” 

Shigaraki, surprisingly, didn't have anything to say about her tone, even with her brusqueness towards him being more than usual. He just watched her drop down face first onto his bed and curl her legs up into her chest.

She sighed at the slight relief the position gave her. While dealing with Shigaraki’s antics was about the last thing she wanted right now, she supposed that at least she could be grateful for how much closer his apartment was to her school then her own home was. It saved her a good fifty-minutes of white-knuckling a train stanchion to keep down her groans of pain. Now at least she could get the relief of laying down much sooner.

If only for a little bit.

“What’s going on?”

She bristled at Shigaraki’s voice, the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t going to be able to truly relax right now. And while there didn’t seem to be any entendre or even impatience in his question, the fact that his voice was getting closer to her was enough to make her suspicious.

“My head aches, my back aches, my boobs ache — everything aches,” she grumbled down into his sheets, “And I feel like I’ve been donkey-kicked straight in the uterus.”

“You start your period or something?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic when he asked it, not that typical boy way of asking any time a girl did something they considered “moody”. It was a genuine question. But it irritated her all the same. 

Everything seemed to be irritating her these days.

“About to,” she answered, “It’s like a day late, but it’s definitely coming.”

She felt the bed shift a bit as he sat next to her.

“Are you nauseous at all?”

Her brows furrowed, a bit confused by the interest.

“I guess a little,” she answered, because even though it was mild, there was a certain turn in her stomach that wasn’t unlike motion sickness, “But honestly, I think it’s just from the pain. This has been going on for like three days.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

She could’ve laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the reminder of all her futile attempts to alleviate this. Because of course he was looking for a quick fix so they could fuck already.

“I’ve taken everything for it,” she groaned, “Nothing’s working.”

He just hummed in response, and then she could feel the sheets behind her dip a bit as he repositioned himself. Into what orientation, she wasn’t sure. She was about to turn her head back and ask him what he was doing when she felt his hand featherlight across her hip.

And between her legs.

“No, Shigaraki please,” she whined, pulling he knees closer into her chest, “I’m not kidding, I’m seriously in a lot of pain—”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your hand then,” she snapped as his fingers tried to wiggle their way between her clenched thighs.

“I mean I’m not doing anything for me. This is for you.”

“Oh is it now,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he insisted, more irritably this time, “Orgasms help with cramps, right?”

She stilled, sufficiently stumped by that particular statement. Because yes, she could say from experience that they absolutely did. She’d spent many a nasty period with her fingers latched to clit to chase that particular path of relief. 

…but why the hell did Shigaraki know that?

She gasped as she suddenly felt the gentle roll of her clit under three fingers. Apparently, in her moments of distracted deliberation, Shigaraki managed to push his hand past the plush lock of her thighs and under the hem of her panties.

“Sh-Shigaraki…” she whined, pushing her elbow blindly and weakly back towards him.

He caught it gently in his free palm and, rather than trying to pin or strain it in whatever which way he desired, like usual, he just held it there. Didn’t even hold it in place really, just shielded himself against its determined path towards his ribs.

“I’m serious,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, “I’m trying to help you.”

She finally mustered up the strength to — despite how much her aching abdomen hated her for it — turn and glower at Shigaraki.

“No funny business?” she pressed.

He settled his own flat expression on her, “When have I ever been funny?”

More times than she’d like to admit honestly, but she got what he was saying here. He was a pretty serious, straightforward person on principle. He didn’t bullshit, he didn’t pull cheap tricks, and, shockingly enough, he didn’t typically lie. Frustrating as it was, Tomura Shigaraki was pretty much always unapologetically himself and he always did what he wanted.

So if he said that he was doing this to help her, then she supposed that she didn't actually have a lot of reason to distrust him.

Plus, his fingers hadn’t stopped their soft, but affective ministrations between her legs, and the pleasant sparks of heated relief they were sending through her were undeniable.

She turned back onto her side with a sigh that was half-exasperation, half pleasure.

“Fine,” she said, throwing back quickly before he got too victorious, “But fuck around and I’ll kick you.”

Shigaraki just chuckled, a soft throaty sound that shouldn’t have sent the chills up her spine that it did, “Yeah, yeah…”

In one motion, careful not to jostle her too much, Shigaraki both pulled her back and scooched himself closer, until her back was nestled snug against his surprisingly firm chest and her head laid in the crux of his bicep.

With this new closeness he was able to be a bit more deliberate with the angle and pressure he used to rub at her swollen sex. And, while she hated to admit it, the increased blood flow between her legs was causing the pressure within her to build quite a bit faster than usual. Enough so that it had her letting go of the tension in her neck and joints — the automatic stress reaction she had to any of Shigaraki’s displays of intimacy — and letting the weight of her head drop fully into his embrace.

A shuddering sigh left Shigaraki at that clear relinquishing of control, of the way she truly let herself lay back and relax into him. It gave him the encouragement he needed to enjoy her to the fullest extent that he wanted her as well, burying his nose deep into her hair. 

He started to stroke wider circles around her, the flats of his fingers never leaving her clit, but now allowing the tips to dip softly into her entrance. He didn’t push them in at all past his first knuckles, just enough to catch some of that growing wetness and spread it all across her fluttering lips.

“A-Ah—” she gasped out, “Sh-shit…”

“Like that?” he rasped, hot against her ear.

She bit her lip, nodding needily, “Mm— Mm-hmm…”

He groaned at the response, doubling down on that motion as he started to stud long, hot kisses down the back of her jaw and neck. The feeling, so gentle and intimate and good in combination to the way he worked her sex, had her unconsciously rocking her hips into his touch, and back into his own.

Vaguely through the haze, she could feel the familiar outline of his stiff cock against the cleft of her ass, but shockingly he didn’t try to grind it against her for relief. If anything actually, when her own hips moved unconsciously back against it, he actually shifted his own hips away, anglind them down so his erection pushed into the bed instead. As if he didn’t want her to feel it, that he was concerned about her feeling pressured by its presence.

She didn’t have the chance to think too much into that though, not when his fingers were coaxing her closer to the edge by the second. The mess between her legs was obscene at this point, through teary eyes she could see the overflow of it spreading wide across her thighs and pooling down in the sheets. 

“God look at you, so fucking wet,” he groaned, lips having made it down to her shoulder and staying there so that he could have a better view of her writhing under his touch, “You needed this, huh? Fucking needed me…”

She buried her face into his arm to muffle her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but also not wanting him to stop.

By some act of God, Shigaraki didn’t push for that answer either. She wasn’t sure why he’d abandoned his typical demands and taunts, didn’t threaten to stop until she gave him the verbal submission and begrudging praise he always wanted. Nor did she stop to think about why, she just let the gratitude course through her, spurred further and wider by the waves of heat rushing through her body, threatening — promising — to overflow.

Shigaraki could feel that axiomatic tension in her body, the boiling point it promised, and sped up his hand to stoke the flames.

“You’re close aren’t you? Oh yeah, you’re close…” his kisses turned to nips at her neck between progressively more demanding growls, “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Fuck, hearing those last words spill from his mouth should not have done what it was doing to her. But it was speeding up her peak, and it was speeding it up audibly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good, really good. Let it go. Go ahead, be a good girl and let it go.”

She cried out, her arching back forcing her face forward and mouth unmuffled as finally, finally her body went blissfully loose, the pain of the past few days overtaken by waves of heat and pleasure. One after the other, her hormone-driven sensitivity wrung out multiple orgasms, and his frantic fingers were happy to work her through each one until she was begging him to stop.

“Good girl, yeah, yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl,” he continued to praise, returning time and again to that phrase he could feel her getting unconsciously excited over, “That’s my good girl…”

It was just a few blurry moments of consciousness after that. She was pretty sure she whined something like “too much” to him at some point, and he whispered back something that she was sure was just utterly debauched right back. Or maybe it was sweet nothings, he had really favored those by the end of this escapade after all. 

Whatever it all was, she supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered in those seconds of labored breaths and fluttering lashes was the beautiful bliss and relief that finally overtook her body. That allowed her to immediately fall asleep in his arms.

Shigaraki held her there for a long time after. He raked his eyes greedily across her body, letting himself carve every detail deep into his memory. He knew he didn’t need to, not anymore. Her boyfriend, her parents, hell, whether or not she got into Todai with him, it was all a non-issue now. There was no reason for him to lose this anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere in life without him. He was going to be able to revel in this sight for the rest of his life now. And he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was for that.

He chuckled a bit at that. Well, maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. This was all by design after all, weeks of very deliberate planning and deception. It was just like he’d always been taught. It didn’t matter what hand you’ve been dealt — and Tomura Shigaraki had certainly been dealt a shit hand in a lot of ways — a real winner made his own luck. 

Sensei would be mad, Shigaraki knew that much. Everyone would be mad in fact, but he didn’t care. He was just following the fundamental lesson Sensei himself had instilled in him the day they met. 

Take whatever you want, and fuck all the rest.

Several minutes into hearing those sweet deep breaths of unconsciousness from the beautiful girl in his arms, Shigaraki finally peeled his fingers away from her cunt.

And slid a wide hand up to cradle her tummy.

It was dark when she woke up, not a single one of Shigaraki’s many monitors or television lit the windowless room. That was odd for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that the overhead lighting had definitely been on when she’d dozed off. The second of which was that any time Shigaraki wasn’t preoccupied with helping her study or studying her, he was chronically attached to at least one screen, if not multiple, so it was more than a bit odd for him to have zero on. The reason for the lack of blue light however became quickly apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

Shigaraki wasn’t here.

She was totally alone in his room, alone and tucked into his bed. Had he gone to the bathroom or something? But then why would all the lights be off? It seemed like he’d probably been gone for a while. Weird…

She threw off the covers and flipped her legs around with much more ease than she’d done anything over the last three days, much to her relief. However long she’d been out, the sleep had clearly done her some good. The pounding in her head and pelvis had finally ceased, perhaps just in time for her to actually start her period. She did feel some dampness between her legs after all. Although…

Her face heated up as she remembered the much more likely cause of that.

Damn it, she thought with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe that she actually let him do that to her, for her. He was going to get entirely the wrong idea from it. The idea that she might actually like him and want to spend time with him, that there was some kind of connection between them that extended past the time she was required to spend with him to keep him satisfied. And she absolutely could not deal with that.

Being his little sex toy was one thing. A demoralizing thing, yes, but a manageable one. She’d seen the way Shigaraki treated things he objectified — games and magazines and the like. He got bored of them quickly. And if she was one of those things in his eyes, then eventually he’d get bored with her too and she’d be free.

If he was attached to her though? Had found connection in her and a desire to keep her in his life? She didn’t even want to consider that nightmare scenario.

She made her way out into the hallway, looking up and down from the empty bathroom on one end of the hall to the top of the staircase on the other. She didn’t have to contemplate the lack of presence on this floor for long though, when she heard Shigaraki’s voice echoing up from downstairs, talking emphatically to Kurogiri, she assumed. 

She couldn’t hear exactly what he was talking about, but whatever it was, he was being particular about it. “Don’t overcook” and “perfect” were a few of the words she managed to catch, so it was about food, maybe? The accompanying sounds of sizzling pans and clanking cookware would certainly support that. As would the smell that suddenly hit her.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell by any means. In fact, it was salmon, one of her favorites. But for some reason at that moment, the smell hit her with a particular intensity that made her feel overwhelmed.

And really fucking nauseous.

She just barely made it to the toilet at the end of the hall, not even fully down to her knees by the time she was emptying her stomach into the bowl. It wasn’t just a brief moment of sickness either. The bouts were loud and long, she was sure that it echoed throughout the entire apartment. It left her red-faced, skin covered and hair clumped with sweat, not to mention still gagging long after she had nothing left to gag on.

A hand she barely even noticed came to rest on the small of her back in the midst of it all. It was only in the aftermath, spent and dry-heaving that she could process the fact that it was Shigaraki, kneeling at her side, patiently stroking small circles into her clammy skin and encouraging her softly.

“Let it out. Just let it all out.”

She groaned once she finally seemed to have a solid thirty seconds of dry, steady breath. And Shigaraki used that respite to nudge a glass of water into her hands.

“Here.”

She didn’t argue or agree, just took it from him with shaky hands, tossing half of it just into her mouth to swish around and spit the remaining bitterness from her tongue.

 “Drink some of it too.”

She nodded shakily, still too drained and disoriented to be irritated with his telling her what to do, or suspicious of the fact that he was being so nice. 

And still, as she took entirely too long to finish the rest of her water with timid little sips, he just knelt on the ground with her, moving the hand on her back to rest on her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where a bruise would undoubtedly form. 

Finally, after a long, silent stretch, she managed to croak out, “W-What time is it?”

“Only seven,” he answered, “Kurogiri’s got dinner almost ready downstairs. Seared salmon, brown rice, avocado salad—”

She whined, shaking her head roughly at the very implication of food.

“Don’t like salmon?”

“I-I do… It’s just—” she gagged a little as she remembered that smell that had set this all off in the first place, “Th-The smell right now. It’s too much…”

“Oh yeah…” he nodded understandingly, muttering something to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded kind of like, “Heightened” and “Read about that…”

Her brows furrowed a bit, frustrated and confused. She was getting the feeling that he was really not telling her something.

“W-What?”

Shigaraki just waved her off, “No, that’s fine, that’s fine. Salmon’s not the only thing he made. There’s sauteed spinach, wakame tofu soup, toasted—” 

Jesus Christ, was Kurogiri cooking for an army down there or something? 

Well, whoever it was all for, and as delicious as it all sounded in theory, imagining those foods in practice right now was making her feel sick all over again.

“Mm-mm, Mm-mm!” she whined, shaking her head again.

She didn’t want to risk opening her mouth right now, lest she blow chunks all over the front of Shigaraki’s shirt. Although wouldn’t that be a nice little serving of karma for him…

“You need to eat something,” he insisted, more lecturey than she’d ever heard him, but with a strange gentleness to his voice as well, “And you need to drink some more too. You’re totally dehydrated.”

She shook her head more emphatically at that, which only resulted in her falling forward into his chest. 

He caught her before she could fall any further, scolding her not too harshly, in fact, a bit whimsically, “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time?”

She pulled her head back to look at him, a confused furrow in her brows that brought the corners of his lips up.

“It’s not a bad look on you to be honest. All weak and petulant,” he brought a hand to pinch lightly at her cheek, “It’s kinda cute actually.”

Her eyes narrowed, finally feeling her stomach steady enough in her to be annoyed. He chuckled, just as amused and endeared by this look as the last. 

“Well how about okayu?” he offered with a patronizing little lilt, “And maybe some ginger tea?”

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. And infuriatingly, he was right not to. She definitely was in no shape to go home on this empty stomach. 

She sighed.

“Yeah… Yeah okay.”

Going at her own shaking, snailish pace, Shigaraki helped her up onto her legs, pulling her immediately into his side as he led her back towards his bedroom. Normally she’d protest, stick an elbow right into his ribs and storm on ahead of him, but honestly she needed the help right now. So she sucked it up and let him lead her back into his bed. 

But that didn’t stop her from eying him suspiciously as he propped his pillows up behind her and tucked her back in under his comforter, the overall way he doted and fretted over her, even stopping to look back at her one more time from the doorway before he returned downstairs to give Kurogiri the new marching orders.

She dropped her head back against the pillows when finally alone, a bad feeling settling heavier and heavier in her stomach. This was beyond weird, the way he was acting. Sure, the guy was overbearing and constantly demanding of her attention, stupidly needy even. But doting? Not only willing but eager to put her needs ahead of his own? Caring deeply about her actual well-being and not just what he wanted to be her well-being? This was all way too out of character for him.

“…You can tell me. If he bothered you, I mean. N-Not just the Doctor either… If um… If anything’s bothering you.”

She sighed at the memory. Alright, maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. He’d shown at least some capability and even interest in her wants and well-being, he wasn’t a complete monster.

But still, all of this? The cooing and the caring and the, erm, servicing even that he’d done? It felt like too much. Like she was missing something really key about it all.

Like something was wrong .

Whether she ended up getting lost in that train of thought for long, or Kurogiri had already had some okayu whipped up downstairs, she wasn’t sure, but she was startled by how quickly it seemed that Shigaraki returned with a breakfast tray in hand. She cocked her head as he set it up over her lap, this was a lot more robust than she was expecting, and, she realized as she examined everything on the tray, a lot more stocked as well.

There was okayu, front and center for her, yes. But also on the tray was another small bowl of soup (looked like the wakame that Shigaraki had mentioned, a thing of plain yogurt (the really fancy kind that came in the glass jars), a glass of orange juice…

And a little dish of four pills. 

Painkillers or antiemetics maybe? They looked more like vitamins…

“Go ahead and start with the okayu if you want,” Shigaraki explained as he climbed up into the bed next to her, “But I want you to try and get some of the wakame and yogurt down too…”

As he settled down, his legs flush with her own, he continued to rattle off instructions and explanations for the rest of her tray, sending her mind completely spinning, faster and faster, like a goddamn Gravitron.

And she was ready to get the fuck off.

“...if nothing else though, take the vitamins. You need the folate, calcium, iron, and the omega-3 especially, since you don’t want the salmon—”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop !”

Shigaraki paused, having the audacity to look at her like she was crazy for snapping. 

“Jesus—what the hell are you even talking about Shigaraki?!” she demanded, “What’d you say, folate? What? What is all this?”

He cocked his head, clearly playing innocent. Whatever this was, he was clearly enjoying the slow unraveling of it all.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” she snapped, “All this attention and doting and food stuff! What the hell is this all about?!”

He just smiled back at her, taking in how pretty she looked, even when mad (especially when mad sometimes), God, to think that this really was his forever now. He wondered if they had a girl, how much she’d look like her. He hoped a lot…

“I just want to make sure you’re getting all the vitamins and nutrients you need…”

He reached over then, spreading his hand flat against her stomach.

“ Both of you .”

She froze.

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

She tried to speak, tried to ask what the ever-loving- fuck he was talking about, but her mouth had seemed to go dry. She tried several times to open and wet it a bit, but every time she did, it felt like her throat was closing too. It took at least four desperate attempts for her to finally force out one rasped:

“... what? ”

Shigaraki’s grin widened, and he started to rub circles gently across her belly.

“You’re gonna look so cute, all big and round with my kid,” he giggled suddenly as he remembered something, “Oh, and your tits too. I wonder how big they’re gonna get…”

She stared at him, unblinking, unbreathing. Everything but un-fucking-existing.

He couldn’t be serious. He was fucking with her. He had to be fucking with her!

“Th-That’s not funny.”

His grin evened a little, not disappearing outright, but settling away some of its blissful excitement into something more coyly victorious.

“I said it already,” he reminded, “When have I ever been funny?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“N-No. No, no, no this isn’t— there’s no way—”

“I’ve got the tests ready when you need to pee, but I think it’s pretty clear. These are all the symptoms I read about.”

“No!” she insisted, “N-No, no— this is, it’s my period! It’s just a day late, it’s not—!”

He chuckled, “I know the symptoms can be similar, but come on. When’s the last time you’ve hurled like that thanks to your period? And the sensitivity to smell? You know this is different.”

Crumbling, every argument she could possibly think of was crumbling to dust before she could even get the thought fully formed. And cruel, vicious reality was more than happy to take its place.

“B-But my birth control pills…”

“Fertility pills,” he explained, his splitting-grin returning in full, “I would’ve preferred to get Clomid from the doctor, but it looks like the over the counter stuff and tracking your cycle worked just fine.”

Her stomach dropped. Pieces of memories, peculiar behaviors and nagging thoughts she’d had over the last two months falling into place. How there were stretches of times where he’d cancel their sessions, only to insist they make them up a few specific days in a row. How he wanted to go multiple rounds a lot those days. How he’d stopped wanting blowjobs from her entirely. How he seemed to only want to fuck her from behind or with her knees pressed hard into her chest, positions he could fuck her the deepest in.

And how he’d have her stay still with his cock buried in her after he came. 

Back then, she just thought he was being weird and pervy. And in a way she was right.

Horribly fucking right.

Shigaraki shifted his legs away from her so that he could bring his head down to her lap, laying his cheek blissfully against her belly. 

“Was so easy,” he hummed against her skin, “Like your body was just waiting for me to knock you up. Waiting for me to make you mine…”

His hands moved across her body, one coiling behind her back so that he could pull her tighter into him, the other lacing his fingers through her own. The fingers on her trembling left hand.

“Both of you, forever,” he growled happily, a predator who had finally and definitively sunk his teeth into his prey, “All mine.”

[noirandchocolate]

All the Champions’ demises at the Blights’ hands are tragic, but Mipha’s is forever the one that fucks me up the most when we play BotW because out of the group she is the only one that, one hundred years after the Calamity, should not be dead.

By the time that the game is taking place, Urbosa, Revali, and Daruk would have passed of old age even if things had gone right. But Mipha would still be in her early prime. Not even Queen of the Zora yet! Now that’s not to say her death is more compelling simply because she had a longer possible lifespan ahead of her. All of our companions were taken unjustly, too soon. No, what destroys me about her story every time is that…

Mipha has living family and friends.

The others are celebrated among their people, but only the Zora explicitly have citizens who personally remember their Champion. While Daruk has an entire mountain carved in his likeness, Revali has many admirers among the Rito, and Urbosa’s people speak her name with reverence, Mipha is still actively mourned. By people who knew and loved her.

Her now elderly teachers, who remain angry over her untimely loss. Her young-adult peers who recall playing with her and Link as kids. Sidon, who still wears the whistle he had as a child and who, after you complete the Vah Ruta mission, never tears himself from the plaza before his sister’s statue. King Dorephan, who asks Link about Mipha’s fate, because even after a century, he never fully gave up hope that she might be trapped, but alive.

Mipha should not be dead, but she is, and her death remains a fresh wound.

And she knows it, too. And that’s why, even when her spirit is freed, unlike with the others her story has such an air of melancholy amid the eventual triumph. She looks down upon the Domain from atop Vah Ruta, and…

“Father…are you well, I wonder? I want you to know... I have always followed my heart. I'm sorry I made you worry... I wish I could see you again... Even just once more..."

She could be there. With her father, with her little brother who is so big now, and who is trying so so hard to be like his sister. But she’s not. And she is terribly missed in a way that’s unique among the Champions.

God, it just rips my heart to pieces.

[halfmaskshadow]

This might make sense to no one except me because I played AOC before BOTW, but in my headcanon Master Kohga is underwhelming and goofy and overdramatic and easy to beat on purpose

Like because of AOC it’s canon that the Yiga were once 1. fucking terrifying and 2. much more prevalent. It’s also canon that Master Kohga can and will redeem himself upon seeing the devastation caused by Ganon worshippers

Master Kohga has been around for at least a century and presumably longer, so it’s no stretch that he might become disillusioned with the world the Yiga are trying to form. But he was raised by the Yiga, so obviously any doubts he has have to be wrong, right? It’s only when he sees his worshippers/employees/family be threatened or killed by the very force he wanted to bring about that he realizes the true cost

In AOC he has a very convenient, very human seeming enemy to point at and team up against. In the BOTW timeline, he’s won. Calamity Ganon is free, millions are dead, there’s not enough food to go around, the royals are gone, he has loyal foot soldiers to feed, and he’s supposed to make the situation worse. No sane person is going to want to do that!!

But what can he do? He has no allies and no easy enemies to rally against beyond the very being they had just fought so hard to summon. The natural solution? Become so utterly incompetent that he fails to destroy the world any more. Ohh nooooo!!! We don’t have enough bananas for the winter!!! Well, I guess that the blademasters responsible for burning down orchards and killing farmers will have to go get some more :) Well now that we know Link’s alive we’ll need to dedicate all our troops to catching him instead of murdering civilians or whatever. What a shame :)

Of course he can’t be too obvious, otherwise the other Yiga will catch on. It was a gradual process that happened over the century Link slept. And now that he’s been dumped in a giant pit he doesn’t even need to try to fight the swordsman!! He’d much rather check out that glowing rock over there than teleport up to the surface, thank you very much

[orionlain]

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟: link

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐲𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 summary: a tug of war for your affection, between the aftons.

𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞? 𝐍𝐨, 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

How long has it been since he felt your soft body? How long has it been since he traced his calloused fingers against your thighs? How long has it been since he tasted your lips, the lips that fulfilled his hunger? It's been months. But it felt like ages, it felt like centuries to him.

You were so busy, after all, it's your last year of high school. You barely had time to see him, you barely even had time to go to the house. You were so caught up in your studies, so caught up in excelling school that you left the poor old man bothered and wanting. He dreamed of you every night, he replays that memory of you whining beneath him every time he’s alone. For months, you unintentionally made the man more ravenous. And god, you may be the only person that makes him weak.

Other than thinking and craving you, he fulfilled his time with, of course, work. And drinking. And smoking. And berating Michael. His workshop in the basement was hardly ventilated, it smelled like the wisp of smoke and whiskey if you step in. He continues to work with the hinges, the metal parts and the screws. The tools in his hands work like a magic wand as he twists and turns the unfinished animatronics. He was lost in his work, in his creations, in his thoughts about you and your— his son's voice echoed above him.

“Michael, can you shut up will you?” He groaned loudly. As usual his ‘brat’ did not care for his pleas. Out of irritation, he got up from his desk and workshop. He went up the stairs, and the surroundings danced with the thump of his steps.

“Oh for the love of god. Michael, did you hear me, you damn-” He cuts off.

“Uh, Hi. Nice to see you again, Mr. Afton.” How much he missed your voice.

His face immediately softens. Oh, how much he missed your vanilla scent. He could see you in your whole glory. You were in a white sweater which draped on your shoulders, with a brown flowy skirt covering your bottom. Shoes that were creased, had freckles of dirt, but he didn’t mind, not at all. At that moment, thousands of thoughts ran in his mind. How much he wanted to grab you and—

“Father. Are you just gonna stand there and stare? Say hi.” Michael’s blunt tone snapped him out in a second.

“Where's my manners!” He brushes off and smirks. Puts on his most charismatic smile, he walks up and his figure towered over you. He held his hand, for you to shake. The same hand that made you moan. You clear your throat and shake his hand, he could feel your delicate gentle touch, one that he missed dearly.

“It’s good to see you again, darling,” There's that pet name again.

“It really is.. I’m so sorry I haven’t visited for a while.” You uttered, flashing that same smile he always loved. “I’ve been working really hard in school. Didn’t have the time to visit the house, however I’m still talking to Michael-” You cut off, when Michael grabs you by the waist, his hand holding the side of your body. You laughed and pushed him away. “Stop! I’m trying to talk to your dad!”

“Oh c’mon, love, hearing you chat to that old man makes my eyes all droop. Won't you just come to my room already, loser?” Mike whined in a playful tone, with mischief. The older man looked at his son, with a grin, a sore fake grin. William didn’t say a word, but his dark smile went along with the words of: ‘My, my, son, you’ve gotten so bold.’

Bold. He fucking hated that. How he wishes his blood was dumb and stupid, but of course he had to inherit his father's genes. To know every, single, damn, thing. To be so clever to Williams' charm and insincere smile. His son never knew what truly happened, but he was quite perceiving. Sometimes Michael would look at his father with a stare filled with thousands of words and disdain. Sometimes Michael had the blood of competitiveness running through, when he sees you and his old man talking. Like father and son, they say. And with you, it was definitely; like father, like son.

The glint in William's eyes was clear. You didn’t notice though, of course you don’t notice. After all, his honey words were always believable to you, but how he wished this time you noticed. He wished this time you could see that glare, that speaks of how much you were his. But of course you didn’t, and that infuriated him. You were too innocent, which is fine, you were malleable and he could mold into the perfect wife. However, you were malleable, and Michael could easily mold you into a girlfriend. That thought made him infuriated. You made him infuriated.

Yet, you turned to William and smiled. A warm and friendly smile, with that pretty face and pretty hair. No, no, he can’t stay mad at you. How could he? You had a smile that could rival any woman in the bar. You had eyes, so doe, you looked like a little bunny. And that body of yours, oh, how could he stay mad at that?

“I’ll be here for the night, Mr. Afton, is that okay?” Still sweet as he remembered.

“Oh darling. You are always welcomed here.”

———————————————————

The summer heat glistened upon your skin, shining upon every ripple you had. Your eyes sparkled beneath the sun, and you wore a purple swimsuit. Purple? Were you trying to kill him? You didn’t know that was his favorite color though.

Your body rests on top of a beach chair with lavender stripes, sitting in front of the pool of the Afton’s backyard. Turning your head to Michael who was wearing red swim shorts, seeming to be staring blankly, with his walkman cassette player in his ears.

“Mike.” He didn’t respond. You snapped your fingers at him, “I said, Mike!”

“Wha- what?” He took his headphones off. You turn your body to face him, looking at him like an investigator. You pointed at his ear looking quizzically. “Is that.. A piercing?” He had a shit-eating grin on his face, with his eyes turning into a smug look. He giggled, almost school-boy sounding. “Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“Mike!?” He only continued to laugh, holding the cassette close to his chest for stability. He wipes the tears off his eyes. “Hey, it’s not that bad is it?”

You shake your head, laughing a little as you facepalm. Sometimes you never knew Michael was up to, smoking, drinking, vandalizing, you couldn’t tell. He would go weeks without telling you something, or he’d come back after an hour and tell you immediately. There was always something unpredictable about that boy. But you digress, you find his antics amusing and funny.

“What would your dad think?”

“Oh c’mon! It's just a stud in my damn ear!” You look at him even more puzzled. “But- but how did you-”

“In the bathroom.”

“The bathroom!?” You perk up more, now sitting up from your seat. He looked at you, with a smirk, “I was with my mate, Jeremy. I was under some bridge in the middle of who knows what. He got a bowl of hot water, with the sewing needle. And then, womp, pierce my ear by pushing the needle in.” Your mouth went a little agape. You two sat there in silence. Until you burst out laughing.

“Christ, Mike!” You laughed, holding your stomach. “Shush, don’t tell my old man-”

“Tell him what?” You and Michael turn your back to William, hovering over you guys like a hawk. Was he always there? Mike rolled his eyes, his face turning into a more sour expression. He lifted his hands and shrugged up in a surrender.

“Nothin!” He said with a mocking tone, a light smirk. You continue to giggle, but it turns out to be a more silent, hiding one. You looked at the father with a smile, “Hi, Mr. Afton!”

You were always much more polite than him, he thought. Much, much more polite. William put his hand on your shoulder, slowly rubbing it up and down. Your face flushed a little, and your body froze a bit. That touch reminded you back to the memory of his calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist, grabbing you to his chest. That touch reminded you back to the time where he held your face as he put his leg between your thighs. That touch. William had to hold back a chuckle and a grin as he looked at you. Michael, on the other hand, gave his father a funny look.

“What did you say, Michael?” He continued to interrogate.

“I said, nothing. None of your business.” The boy spat back. “No, no, no. Something about a piercing, hm?” You look at their back and forth. Back to Willams’ hand on your shoulder and his face hovering over you, to Michael's annoyed expression and his body in front of you.

“Yeah. A piercing, so?” Williams' chuckle laced with anger and poison could be heard in response to that. “Did I ever say you can have one, boy?”

“What's the big deal about it? Henry told me you were a bit of a frivolous man back in your college years. Why can’t I be ‘frivolous?” He said ‘frivolous’ with his hand making air-quotes, his father raising an irritated brow. “Boot-cut jeans, disco collars, and lots, lots of ladies. I know you’re not just a serious and stuck up man. Please, your dorm room was filled with the moans of-”

“Bloody christ, just check on Evan and Elizabeth for me, can you?” He said in a loud tone, with his fake smile twitching. Michael stood up sighing and groaning loudly, and before he made his departure, he ruffled your hair. Leaving the walkman on the beach chair beside you. You knew a little that they never had a great relationship, but god, did that make you feel uncomfortable. It was as if the tension was tied around your neck like a tug of war. Never once did they swear or yell, but it almost felt like they did. So many words beneath a sentence, hidden by a smile that felt taunting. You had an awkward look on your face, as you saw Michael walk away, staring blankly wishing you knew more what's hiding behind the clear passive aggressiveness between the two. How you wish you knew why there was so much hostility between them. You were lost in thought, but you immediately felt the grip on your shoulder tighten.

You look up, your wide eyes facing William as you bend your neck a little. “Hello, darling.” He said with a smooth baritone in his accented voice. You could never get over how attractive he sounded. As you face him, you take a full look at him. His torso covered in a purple short sleeved dress shirt, you could see the edge of his skin, the springlock marks that traveled on his chest and neck. He could see you take a peak, he grinned a little.

“My son, always a troublemaker, isn’t he?” He laughed afterwards, playing it off with an innocent dismissive hand wave. “Always been a pain in my ass.” He chuckled, saying it like a joke, but his piercing glare and smirk said otherwise. He looks at you now, but with a bit of a less harsh look. “How’s it been?”

You stared at him, that grip on your shoulder not getting any looser. You giggled, and rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah, busy. Sorry I haven’t, uh, visit you.. I was so caught up in my studies, Mr. Afton.” You said softly, while looking at the poolside, staring at the glistening shine of the water. Hearing the laughter of the three siblings, as you fiddled with the straps of your purple swimsuit. “Thought you forgot about me, love.” He says, with a teasing tone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Nono- I didn’t forget about you-” You babbled nervously with your words, but he put his finger to his lips, making a shushing sound. “I’m messing with you, doll. I knew you were just being a good student and studying. Unlike a certain boy I know.” He laughed, but then his eyes went down onto you. “You wouldn’t forget me, not after the time we had.” A heat went down your cheeks.

He bent down to your level, playing with the lavender straps of your swimwear. “Besides, darling, you know I can’t be mad at you.” Humming as he stares at your pretty face. “You’re such a good girl, you know?”, he hushed. His breath close to your neck, his voice warm to your ears. You felt your heart beat faster, as your eyes widened.

“And lord, that bikini looks ravishing on you.” He whispered.

Then he stood back up. His palm on your shoulder becomes much looser. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, and turned his back from you. Giving you a single small wave as he walks away, and leaving you on the beach chair utterly flustered and bothered. He just leaves, and goes back fixing Elizabeth's inflatable toy. Why does he do this to you? Why does he tease and leave you such a mess? The butterflies tighten even more around your stomach, the space in your throat all choked up. And there he is, musing to himself as if he didn’t whisper such things to you. The only semblance of his vulgarity, is his stare from across the pool, that went from your thighs to your chest to your face. It was shameless. You knew it. And he knew it.

“Hey, loser!” Micheals shout rings into your ears, and you snap out of it. He quickly grabs your hand closer to the pool with a playful grin, “C’mon, you can’t just sit there all day.”

“Mike- jeez!” You chuckled softly, and soon Michael wrapped his arms around your arm. He shoves you into the pool with him, both of you falling into the body of water, splashing onto the poolside. Some of the water went onto the younger siblings body, a giggle and whine ensued on them. Most of it, though, flew onto the older man. An irritated smirk formed onto his face, as he swept the water off his hair. You all were in a fit of laughter. But with Michael around you, William hid in a fit of rage. However, he shaked his head and kept a fake smile, continuing to fix Elizabeth's plastic blow-up toy. “Brat.” He mumbled.

You then reached out of the two younger kids, waving your hand to them, a gentle smile on your face. Evan reached the pool slowly, tipping his toes into the water as you gave him a cheer of encouragement. Elizabeth, on the other hand, dived into the tube around her torso, splashing onto your face. “Liz, my goodness!” Your laughter echoed into the backyard as the water ran through your hair, you held her hand as she paddled through the swimming pool. Michael looked at you as you talked to her, to his brother, his smug grin turning into a soft smile. Eyeing you with a look of enderament. Floating in the pool, watching you, admiring you.

“Michael.” The blunt voice called out, the boy turns his head to the older man. “Keep an eye on your siblings. Have fun with your ‘girlfriend’, son.” He chuckled and crossed his arms, the word ‘girlfriend’ sounded almost laced with poison.

“I will.” The boy gave out a passive-aggressive smile

____________________________________

Your hand digging into the bowl of caramel popcorn on the small patio table, stuffing your face full of it. You had a towel on top of your back, as you held your legs into your body. Michael rested upon his chair, staring into the sunset that fell beneath the picket fences in front of you both. His hand was also filled with popcorn, and devoured it quickly. While Liz and Evan had passed out, sleeping on the hammocks. Besides you, was some rickety boombox playing “Boys Don’t Cry” which played with a mild noise while you two rested upon the chairs. You looked at Michael, his face always reminding you of the time that his dad revealed his secret. Where you find out Mike had a crush on you. You hadn’t confronted him about it, you were too awkward to do so.

You both sat there silent. Till you broke the ice. “So.. remember that sleepover where I helped you with homework? Can you tell me why you were late with the teacher?” Michael immediately coughed up his popcorn, and sat up.

“Didn’t I tell you she got her panties in a twist?” He said with a dismissive wave. You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah I know, but that's not it, is it?”

He paused for a moment, and sighed, he put his head to the side in a somber tone. Your face softens and you give him a look of sympathy. Tilting your head to the boy beside you. “You know, you can tell me, right? That's what best friends are for.” He groans and shakes his head in a sad smile, but he gives in.

“Bout my grades.” He uttered. “I mean, it's no big surprise, since I’m quite the hassle to deal with. Bound to have shit grades.”

“But uh..” He took a moment and continued on, “Teacher came up to me and the first time I wasn’t getting yelled at. She went up to me and was like: what's home like?” He stared into the sunset slowly fading into the horizon, the red and the purples mixing with one another.

“First time I was ever vulnerable.” He turned his head and looked at you, with an awkward look on his face.

“Don’t like home. It’s not warm.” He didn’t further elaborate on that.

You sighed, but smiled at Mike. Patting him on the back with your gentle and dainty touch. You run it back and forth, giving him a bit of warmth. His eyes immediately lightened up, and he laughed. His mood, lifting up just from your hands. “I have a lot of friends. Yet, a nerd like you takes the cake.” He says, with an amused tone, you chuckled in response. “I know. But I hope you know this nerd is always here to listen.” You said, he scoffs but it was clear he smiled softly.

Another silence goes between you two.Then you’ve curiously look at him, “Are you still with Sarah?” He gave a cringed expression on his face and ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous manner. “Ehh..”

“Are you serious? This is the second girl of the month.” You pestered, scolding him with a baffled smile on your face. “It just didn’t work out, alright! It's ok— I mean, she moved on fast. Saw her with a guy the next day.”

You facepalm and shake your head. “What’s your type anyways?” Oops! You shut your mouth instantly, knowing you slipped out a stupid obvious question. You already knew Michael liked you, ever since William revealed his secret in the last sleepover. Yet, here you are beating around the bush. Cringing at yourself, wishing you had confronted Michael earlier if he had a crush on you or not. But it can’t be, right? Every girl in your guys’ highschool had the hots for your best friend. There was not a chance, right? You can’t ask that question. How would you put it into words that weren’t an awkward jumbled mess?

“Eh.. man I don’t know.” He answered plainly, and he was silent afterwards. Until he abruptly said, “A nice girl.”

“A nice girl?” You tilt your head at his answer. He rolled his eyes at you with a bit of a chuckle that left his mouth. “Yeah, I mean, what? What did you expect?”

“Well.. I just, you know. I thought there may be more.” You responded, shrugging your arms. You continued on, “I mean most guys give you a list of what they want in a girl.”

“What? You thought I'd give you a list?” He laughs, now putting a piece of bubblegum into his mouth. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind if she's hot, then I got something to ogle at. But.. a nice girl is– well nice. I wouldn’t even mind if this girl was a bit of a geek.” He responded, chewing the gum in his mouth.

“So you would go out with a nerd.?” You looked at him, raising your brow. “I guess.”

You giggled at his response, holding your stomach a little. “I can’t imagine it!” You mutter in between your laughter, while Michael turns his head and lets out a huff. Crossing his arms, while he rolled his eyes again. “Piss off, cunt.” He nudges at you playfully. But he quickly retreats back on laying on his chair, and gives a small sigh.

“Sometimes you remind me of my mum.” He says quietly, but you still hear his sentence. You still laughed, but it was slowly dying out as you saw Michaels gaze. Filled with admiration. You both stare at each other for a moment. Not a single word coming out of your mouth. Not a single noise between you two. But just from his stare, you could feel yourself becoming a bit rosy. You had the chance to say something, and break the tension, confront him about if he has feelings for you—

He stood up, and dusted off his swimsuit shorts. “I think I’m gonna clean up now.” He sighs, while stretching his back a little. He then went towards his younger siblings on the hammock, shaking them a little. “C’mon time to wake up. Or else father’s gonna be all up in my ass again.” Aggravated, pushing them a little. The two wake up all groggily, dragging their feet on the ground as Evan went back into the house trailing his bear plushie on the ground, while Elizabeth rubbed her eyes with her arm as she mumbled an insult towards her older brother.

Michael looks back at you, as you were sitting on the chair. He puts his hand on the top of your hair, ruffling a little. You groaned as he does while he pops his bubblegum. The boy leans toward you a little, and gives you a small smile, gentle and soft. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He says, and plants a kiss on your cheek. He then faced away from you, but you could see a red tint on his face.

Your best friend then goes back into the house. While you sat on the beach chair, taken aback. Mouth agape. Did he just blush? Did he just kiss you, on your cheek?

But before you could fully grasp what happened, you felt a tug on your strap. You gazed at the movement, and soon enough you felt the familiar touch on you. “Darling.” That pet name, which is all so memorable to you. You see the older man, who is suddenly behind you. His steps and body are so quiet, it almost made you think of how he’s so fit for a criminal. You quickly sit up from his presence, as if he commands you to pay attention to him. You look at him, bug-eyed. “Yes?” You bumbled with your response. He always found it so cute that you were always so nervous around him. A fawn so delicate and fragile, a bunny so tense and afraid.

He circled around you like a shark, putting his two fingers around his shoulder, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Only until now, you realize how uneasy he made you feel. You could almost feel your hands slightly tremble. He gazed at you like some wolf waiting to feast on a lamb, like some fruit waiting to be opened and tasted. An uncomfortable silent pause before he says his next word, he then bends down to your chair facing you eye to eye. His gray eyes pierced right through, but oh, he had such a gentle grin on his face. It was so contradictory. His smile was so sweet, yet his eyes and cold touch on your shoulder said less. It lured you right in.

Most people, when you look into their eyes– there would be a bit of a sparkle of light. You found nothing but an empty pupil. Although, it didn’t feel intimidating. Yet. “Still looking pretty as ever.” He traced his thumb on your face, while you sat there silently, helpless.

“Uhm. Thank you, Mr. Afton.” You responded, as a way to fill the silence, to fill that restless feeling in you. You didn’t bother to look away and turn your face to the side, you fear something bad will happen if you do. “Darling.. Would you mind if I ask a question?” He asked, but it’s almost like he would still inquire if you said no. You shake your head, signing to go ahead.

“Do you like Michael?” He asked, still rubbing his thumb on your cheek. You paused at first, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” He repeated, and chuckled. But that chuckle was unnerving. He still traced his thumb over your cheek but more slowly this time. Almost tauntingly. “Yeah I don’t think.. I do.” You said, but then your eyes went towards the house.

“Are you sure?” William teased, but it hid a dark intention behind his words.

You look at Michael, seeing him through the window. He was watching TV, while bothering his little brother. He looked alot alike to his father, but much more softer. His skin is more tanner, his face less hollower. His hair messy, unstyled and spiked cuffs around his wrist, his usual jean jacket around his body. He had eyebags, just like William but it wasn’t so sunken. He had more of a boyish look to him, amateurish and juvenille. You can admit, he was good looking. He was attractive, even. And he's alway been nice to you, always been more softer with you than anyone else around him. And he’s always been sweet, always had a laugh that made you smile.

He was good to you, good for you, maybe you do like– “Look at me.” You then felt your face forcefully grabbed. Your cheeks almost squeezed, as your eyes squint in pain. William's eyes were harsh, even cruel looking as he stared into you. “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

“I said. Don’t look at him. Look at me.” You immediately complied, and gazed at him back. Your breath almost caught up in your throat, and your eyes all nervous and wide. He had a scowl on his face. “Do I have to repeat myself, hm?” He said, a tone laced with malice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He put a finger near your lips, in a shushing motion. “Listen here darling. I know, I know, Michael is your best friend. But I don’t think he's good for you.” He says, honey-like, his words soothing and smooth. There was a glint in his eyes as he said it.

His finger then traced down to your throat, and softly tugged at the ribbon of your lilac swimsuit between your cleavage. He was playing with it. Teasing it. “He’s not good for you.. No, no, no, not at all. I don’t want your soft little heart broken, it’s not meant for a harsh boy like him.” He tutted. “He’ll use you.. You know how teenage boys are.” He said it like a fact.

“Will you believe me, sweetheart?” He patted your cheek, in such a sickly sweet manner. “Will you believe me, when I say he's no good for you?” You paused before you spoke, but his words sounded so genuine, so heartfelt. You nodded your head softly. Still so malleable, how he loved that.

“That's right. What a good girl.” He hummed from your response. “Now, I think it’s time for you to get cleaned up. Hm?”

“Yes. Mr. Afton..” You responded, and he chuckled a little from how quiet and nervous your pretty voice sounded. His scowl turned into his usual polite smile. He then took your hand and made you stand up on the ground, drying the wet hair with a towel. Patting you on the back, as he moves you back into the house. How easy.

[undertheorangetree]

To Be Alone With You

Summary- Osferth becomes infatuated with a healer from the continent.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Osferth's got a big old crush. Like he’s down bad. Blood. Minor injuries. Shoddy knowledge of 10th century healing. Blasphemy. Admittedly more plot than porn. Cunnilingus. Masturbation. P in V sex. Against a wall in a church no less.

Author's Note- The fact that Osferth canonically fucks and is good at it to the point where women fight over him lives in my mind rent free. Anyway read the rest on ao3 link is belowww

dividers by me lmao

Osferth likes to think that he's different now. Or at least, that he has changed since first joining Uhtred. He's grown further into himself- his confidence, his ability to be a warrior, that he himself has changed as a whole. He's stronger now and though he still values his faith, it does not feel so all consuming, an anchor around his throat forever reminding him of his bastardry. He is proud of the man he has become, of the one that he continues to grow into, and it feels right that, over time, he has changed for the better.

But he seems to forget all that the moment he lays eyes on her.

She had arrived with a traveling priest from the continent, one who had come with the intention of spreading the word of God to the infamously heretical ealdorman. And though she traveled with a priest and his retinue, she wore no habit. Her hair was loose, catching the waning rays of the sun and he felt his heart stutter in his chest when he caught the colour of it shining in the light. She had caught his eye then, as their little ship docked, and smiled at him so brightly he felt himself fall back into the boy he once was, the cursed baby monk.

Though Uhtred had wanted to throw the whole group out at the first sign of a sermon, he agreed to give them a night in the inn out of respect for how long they had been traveling- after they had paid a small fee, of course- and Osferth had managed to catch her in the tavern later that night.

The words had caught in his throat the moment he tried to speak, but Finan had been with him and it had been easy for him to ask if they could join her and begin a conversation. He had nursed his mug of ale while they spoke, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her further, and joined Finan in highlighting all that Coccham had to offer. Finan had quickly become drunk, but they had found a joint amusement in that and he had revelled in every smile she cast his way. They learned that she was the priest's healer, having studied in Frankia before deciding to join the priest in order to see what the world had to offer. She told them of her travels to Burgundy, Provence, and the Northern Byzantine Empire, regailing them with stories Osferth could only dream about. Uhtred had joined them midway through the conversation, allowing Osferth the opportunity to join her on her bench, their arms brushing against each other.

By the time morning came, the priest had gone and she had stayed on as their healer. Uhtred offered her a cottage and the promise to retrieve everything she could possibly need. He had grinned at Osferth the moment she turned her back on them, raising his eyebrows playfully, and he had felt his face begin to burn from how obvious his immediate infatuation must have been.

At first, he simply admired her from afar. Though he is proud of all the progress he has made to become the man he is now, that all seems to melt away when he is around her. More often than not, he stumbles over his words when he tries to speak to her, face burning scarlet and heart beating faster in his chest. It is clear that the others know of his infatuation, as they do everything in their power to facilitate some kind of interaction between them. Inviting him over when they are speaking to her, offering her his assistance whenever she needs it. Finan had gone so far as to shove him in her direction whenever he felt like causing trouble, though thank God he had only stumbled into her once. She had done little more than laugh then but he had avoided her for two days out of sheer humiliation.

It is safer to simply keep his distance. Though he enjoys talking to her- more than enjoys it, if he is honest with himself- he does little more than embarrass himself when he tries. He wants more, he wants everything, but for now he will settle for admiration. Distance.

It seems kinder. To both himself and her.

He can see her now, walking back to her cottage with a basket full of herbs and flowers she must have picked nearby the river. There is a woman walking with her, one he doesn't know well enough to know her name, but they are laughing as if they are close friends. The other woman reaches out to rest a hand on her arm and he watches longingly as she raises her own to clutch at the other woman's fingers. He cannot hear what they're saying over the echoing clack of the wooden swords the boys are using to practice- a sparring match he is admittedly supposed to be monitoring- but she has a pull on him he can't quite explain and he can’t bring himself to look away.

It comes with consequences.

Read the rest here

[nocasdatsgay]

Droit du seigneur

For @sjmvillainweek Day 7

Pairing: Nesta/Beron | Word Count: 3079 | Rating: E

Summary: Eris and Nesta are getting married but that comes at a cost: tradition stipulates that the High Lord gets the bride first.

CW: sex, degradation language, Beron’s POV, magical coercion

A/N: I couldn’t do all of villain week but I whipped this up joking about Nesta planning to kill Beron but she forgets cause he fucks her brains out. Anyways Beron does not make it at the end of this fic. You’ve been told.

Alternate Title: Beron Fucks Okay | Ao3 Link | Read Below

Tags: @mybestfriendmademe @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir Divideer by @tsunami-of-tears

“It’s Autumn Tradition, bound by magic.” Beron said, his expression mostly blank as he explained to Nesta and Eris what to expect on the wedding night. “Archaic but still tradition.” 

Nesta furrowed her brows, glancing at Eris. “What of the Lady?”

Beron answered first. “You are not the first bride I’ve been forced to entertain. She’s had centuries to cope.” 

Beron watched his son take her hand and squeeze it gently. Disgusting display of weakness. 

“The magic doesn’t give a choice, Nes,” he whispered to her. “Right father?”

“Correct.” The lie fell from his lips with ease. “I’ve spent centuries trying to undo it. I have yet to have any luck. I promise Lady Archeron, this will be more unpleasant for me than it will be for you.”

She lowered her gaze. “I understand.” 

Beron smiled, magic binding between them with her acceptance. “Go and enjoy the rest of your day. The wedding will be over soon enough and we can put this behind us.” 

🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

The next evening, Beron watched his son’s new wife dance across the floor, unable to turn away from the display she and his son were putting on. Despite her unfortunate  perigee, she was captivating. Nesta Archeron was born human but he could see she was meant for this life of a high fae. The cauldron had chosen well.

He ignored his wife beside him, her sorrow perforating the air around them. She was always dramatic. He didn’t understand her current grief. She had never cared who he bedded. He never cared who she bedded until the stupid slut got pregnant with a bastard child. That male’s bastard no less. Beron took a sip of wine to calm himself. 

Sometimes he wished he’d killed her and the babe in her womb centuries ago. The embarrassment alone was enough to warrant it. But he was merciful; just like he would be tonight. Applause erupted as the song ended. He clapped and watched Nesta’s slim figure get twirled about by his son as the band started again. Her sultry silver eyes found his while they danced to a slower song. 

He would definitely have his fun with her. 

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Beron left the party first. 

Tradition was he would wait in his chambers to give the court time to wind down. It was also to save the embarrassment of the bride leaving with the High Lord. He changed into a robe; there was no sense in being fully clothed when Eris brought his bride in. Beron would pretend to be sorry but in truth he took great pleasure invoking this right as High Lord. 

He was but a simple male after all. 

He poured himself a drink while he waited from his personal locked cabinet. He contemplated sitting when a knock came to the door. He swirled his drink once and downed it. It made him chuckle as he sat the glass back down. Someone, be it Eris or Nesta herself, was eager to get this over with. 

“Enter,” he said loudly. 

Beron absolutely hated the way the door creaked open and Nesta slipped in. He hated that slip of a gown she wore- Night Court fashion. It covered her body but what good did it do if he could see her tight waist and slim hips silhouetted in the silky white fabric. He felt his jaw tick as she stepped forward. 

“Don’t you look lovely,” Beron glanced over her again quickly. “Would you like a drink for your nerves?” 

“No,” Nesta said flatly, sharp eyes narrowed on him. She crossed her arms against her chest, increasing the lift of her breasts. 

He frowned. “Just because you are my son’s bride does not excuse you from manners. You will address me as your High Lord.”

She scoffed. “No, my High Lord. I do not want a drink. I want to get this over with.”

“Then turn around.”

He stared and watched as she furrowed her brows. She hesitated, confused for a moment before turning her back to him stiffly. Beron raised a brow. He’d never seen a female fight the magic before. He walked up and traced his fingers along her neck and down her spine to the start of her dress. 

“What have you done to me?” She whispered.

“I did nothing.” He began to undo the buttons of her dress. “We made a deal in my study yesterday. I don’t fuck unwilling participants.” 

He finished with the buttons and pushed the gown down. It slid off her gently, pooling in a pile at her feet. He traced the muscles of her back with his finger tips. She was well toned; probably the Night Court beast's doings. His gaze lingered on her silky white undergarments. With a wave of his hand, he removed them and banished her undergarments to a pocket realm. 

“What did you do? Those are mine!” Nesta turned to look at him. 

“And they’re mine now.” He grinned. “I only get you once. I need something to remember you by.” 

She scrunched up her nose at him but didn’t remark further. Beron noted didn’t hide herself from him as she faced him fully. Not a maiden then. He should have known a female from the Night Court wouldn’t be pure. It didn’t matter; it was too late to back out. She waited while letting him take in her figure. She was stunning. 

“Get on the bed,” he said with feigned indifference.  

With an air of defiance, she walked over to the bed. Nesta got on her hands and knees, stopping to look over her shoulder. 

“How would you like me, High Lord?” 

“On your back.” 

She had the audacity to pout at him. She moved about and laid back on the bed. Beron embedded the image of her sprawled out on his duvet. He didn’t take off his robe when he joined her. She reached for the belt on his robe but he swatted her hand. 

“You do not touch me unless I say you can.” 

She looked up at him from her lashes and bit her lip like a whore. “Yes High Lord.” 

He sat up and undid the belt on the robe. If he had his way he would bind her with it. Her eyes roamed over his body and he sneered at how she licked her lips. 

“What am I to do with you?” His own gaze dropped down to her breasts. They looked so heavy with their puckered nipples begging to be lavished. “Do not move until I tell you to.” 

She nodded wordlessly. He crawled over her and hovered above her. The rules did not allow kissing. He could fuck her to his completion once. When he withdrew his spent cock was when it was over. However, Beron was old and he’d pushed the boundaries of the magic enough to know the loop holes. He reached out, dragging a finger along her collarbone then reaching out to cup her breast. They were bigger than his wife’s. Prettier too. Nesta gasped when he palmed at it. The way he wanted to grasp it harder- squeeze it tight in his hands while she moaned. 

Instead he leaned down and took the other with his mouth. She mewled when his tongue and thumb flicked at the soft buds. He sucked and her hips jerked. He pulled back to see his work- her nipple hard and fully peaked. The dark skin around it glistened with his spit. He leaned back in and kissed the skin between her breasts. Her scent was sweet and thickening with arousal; he moved down a little and groped both breasts. He kissed and his fingers worked her nipples. Nesta was breathing heavily but without complaint. 

“Good girl,” he murmured. 

He finally let her go and moved down the bed, positioning himself between her legs. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and he could smell how badly she wanted it, the fucking whore. He did his best not to roll his hips into the mattress like a youth. 

“What are you doing?” She whispered. 

“Did you think I would be cruel and just take what I had to from you?” He held her legs open and kissed along her pelvis. “I’m not an uncivilized male, my Lady. I do believe in a female’s pleasure when she’s earned it.”

He looked down and spit on her cunt. He enjoying the way her legs jerked in his hold and his saliva slid down her folds. She inhaled sharply when he leaned down to lap it up. He had a weakness for good pussy, and the smell of her alone was making strain in his underpants. A low rumble escaped his throat at the taste of her. 

He dipped his tongue down to the wetness at her entrance and hummed contently. The Law of Magic didn’t allow him to kiss her on her lips. So instead he worshiped her cunt. He got lost in the taste of her, lightning jolting down his spine at the idea of smelling those under things later. She was the perfect mix of sweetness and musk that drove him insane. 

He kept his hands on her thighs while she squirmed under him. Her soft pants and cried music to his ears. He groaned, dipping his tongue in and out of her; he mouthed and sucked on that taunt nub peeking out between her folds. He hadn’t even realized she came until he felt her hands pushing at his head. He stopped immediately, snatching her hand and sitting up to glare at her. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” his voice was colder than he truly felt. 

He knew she was a defiant one. He wanted to see what she would do. Nesta was panting, cheeks and chest flushed a nice pink. 

“It was too much,” she whispered. 

“Was it?” He dropped her hand. “A pity. l don’t care.”

“I just wanted-.” 

“I don’t care what you want. You are mine until I am done with you.” He yelled and slapped her cunt hard, hand stinging. And she moaned like the whore she was. “Behave and I might let you cum again. Do you understand?”

She nodded with no fear in her eyes. He grinned and shrugged off his robe while she watched. Her eyes widened with lust and he sneered. Females were all the same, eyeing his cock hungry with want as he took off his own undergarments. The things he wanted to do to Nesta- bind her in fire. Stuff her mouth so her cries would be muffled. He wanted to fuck her throat where she laid so badly his cock wept at the thought. 

She was lucky he was restricted by magic. 

He positioned her how he wanted her and she let him. He pushed her back on the bed, lifting up her legs in his arms. He looked between them and committed to memory how pretty her cunt looked, begging to have a cock put in it. His hard cock hovered in front of it. He wanted to smack her cunt with it but refrained from such juvenile antics. He let go of one of her legs to stroke himself with a groan. 

Another deep rumble left his throat. He lined himself up and pushed into her. It gave him a thrill to know she was too tight to have been bedded by those night court beasts with wings. He moved her legs onto his chest, throwing them over his shoulders. Beron decided he would take his chances trying to breed this female below him. She’d make a strong heir; stronger than that boy waiting outside the chambers. 

She didn’t speak when he placed his hands on the headboard to steady himself. Then the first rock of his hips made him let out a shaky groan. The warm, tight grip around his cock felt like a blessing from the mother. A sign. She reached up and held her own legs steady like a seasoned slut.

“You must be a witch,” he whispered, staring down at her. “For your cunt to feel like a maiden’s.”

She flushed and averted her eyes. “Does it displease you, High Lord?”

“That you’re a whore?” He pulled back and slammed into her. “No. Makes you easier to fuck.” 

Beron didn’t do much more talking after that. He found his pace, enjoying the feel of her until he couldn’t take it anymore. He normally rolled over by now and made the females do the work. But the sight of Nesta below him was too much. He pressed her legs back further with his chest, driving down into her with the slapping of skin echoing in the room. He hadn’t felt this type of frenzy in centuries. 

“I’m going to fill you up, girl,” he grunted and she cried out. Her cunt squeezed his cock and gods he was close. “You’d like that, you fucking whore. You’d like to bear me a bastard, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Nesta’s hands abandoned her legs and reached behind her, digging her fingers into the pillows. Her eyes fluttered as he kept hitting that spot deep inside her. “I’ll do whatever you want, High Lord.”

He growled, grabbing her by the neck with one of his hands. “Then cum on my cock, you stupid slut.” 

He could feel the fire in his eyes flare as he used his high lord powers to command her. Beautiful creature that she was, she screamed, her back arching and she throbbed around him, pulling him in as deep as he could go. He let go of her neck, to grab the headboard again and slammed into her one last time with a bruising force. He damn near choked with pleasure as he emptied himself inside her. 

He rolled off of her panting. He hadn’t fucked like that in decades. She, too, laid beside him catching her breath. After a few moments, he went to tell her to leave but she sat up moving over him. Some of her hair was loose, framing her face nicely. Her eyes were blown with lust as she placed a hand on his chest. 

“Can I?” She asked. 

Beron narrowed his gaze, uncertain of what she was asking. She bit her lip and gently drug a nail on his chest. Then she flattened her hand and drug it down while she slid down his body. She kept her gaze on him when she grabbed his spent cock and licked the head of it. The muscles in his leg twitched. When he didn’t say anything she continued. He watched her lick the cum off his cock until he was hard again. She kept those sultry hard eyes on him and took him into her mouth. Magic made it so he couldn’t fuck her again until she left the room are you done but nothing was stopping her if she wanted to continue to whore herself out to him. 

“What a needy little bitch you are,” he muttered. 

They both moaned as she took him down deep into her throat. He cursed again, both amazed and annoyed at her lack of gagging as she continued to bob her head and stroke what she couldn’t take. He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her down just to make her gag. The sound made his eyes roll back and he let her go. 

“Stroke me until I cum on your face.” 

It wasn’t a command; he just wanted to see if she’d actually do it. And fuck, if she didn’t look like goddess pulling back with her tongue out as she stroked him. He came again, painting her face and tongue. 

“Beautiful,” he muttered. “Put your dress on and get out.” Nesta blinked in a daze. “Get. Out.” 

In shock she stumbled off the bed frantically looking for her dress. Her compliance amused him. She was not as strong headed as she seemed. He watched her, scowling as she used the skirt of her dress to wipe off the cum on her face. She struggled with the back, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Today girl. Out!” 

She started and abandoned her efforts. He chuckled as she scurried out like a little rat, leaving him to think about how he was going to get his hands on her again. 

🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Nesta stumbled out of the room, thighs and face still sticky and dress half done up. How had Beron of all males been the one to fuck her stupid? She forgot where she even was, focused on leaving the room because he told her too. The door shut and she found Eris was scowling by the sofa. His eyes and hair were glowing, anger showing itself in the flames. 

“I understand,” she said, breathing heavily. She looked back to the door dazed. “I understand now why there are seven of you.” 

“Did you forget something?” He hissed. 

Her cheeks flushed as she turned back to Eris. “He took them. I didn’t have a choice in the matter but to walk out in just my gown.”

“He’s alive Nesta.” 

“Oh. Right.” He didn’t mean her under garments. He meant the deal they made. She furrowed her brows, unable to focus with her core still aching between her legs. “Gods, do you all fuck like that?”

Eris let out a growl. “Go bathe. I’ll do it myself.” 

Eris would deal with her and the Night Court after he became High Lord. Nesta was lucky they didn’t make a bargain over this. He pushed all thoughts away, letting his rage take hold. He pulled a dagger out from his pants leg and threw open the door. He found his father, naked, laying on the bed. He averted his eyes, focusing on the bed frame. He scowled when he saw scorched marks on the top of the wood in the shape of hands. 

“Eris,” Beron pulled the duvet over himself. 

“Did you enjoy my bride, father?” Eris held his hands behind his back to conceal the dagger. He approached the bed slowly but his father only laughed. 

“By the cauldron, you picked a wild one. She fucks like a well seasoned whore. I might annul your marriage and keep her for myself.” 

“And what of mother?” 

Beron scoffed. “She’ll enjoy the reprieve.” 

Eris stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes noticeably wild. 

“I’m sure she will.” 

That was the last thing Beron heard before Eris stabbed him and cut out his heart. 

[gender-trash]

(i am seriously late in posting about this due to The Problems BUT whatever! its here now!!)

somewhere around late november 2022, i asked my dad "hey are there any out of print technical books you'd like a reprint of for christmas?"

he linked me to a dubious black-and-white pdf of Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy. now, i wound up checking out a copy through link+, and the original edition is a really nicely put together book! the chapters are themed around various types of measurements (length, angle, etc), and they all have these cute little diagrams which the endpapers reuse in a lil repeating pattern... the image captions are done in this really lovely dark red that did not scan for SHIT... tons and tons of diagrams and illustrations and images (both color and b&w)... just, all around, a fucking nice book!! (see also @morrak's post about it here.)

and that made me feel kind of bad about the crappiness of the pdf, which is where the Problems began. i used my phone to take pictures of all the photos and color diagrams in the original and went about replacing them in the pdf, using what turned out to be the world's worst pdf editing software (i also got through replacing all the image captions in chapter 1 of 5 before my dad convinced me to give up). i did NOT finish the pdf editing before christmas 2022 (i was going somewhat off the deep end, because both my housemates were away visiting family and i had zero external structure in my life so it was just me and my cat and this stupid FUCKING pdf wrecking my sleep schedule together); i poked away at it for most of the rest of my time off and then got so goddamn sick of it i put the project away for months. "it'll be a birthday gift instead", i said optimistically (my dad's birthday is in april! it should have been enough time!)

gentle readers, i did not finish the pdf editing by april. mostly because it was such a miserable slog that i put it off until the last possible moment and then tried to make up for it with another death march.

hating both myself and the project again, i decided i was Not going to let myself typeset Anything Else before it was done, and then took a break to bind my immortal (using the renegade publishing typeset! i didn't do any typesetting!!). SURELY, i said, i can finish this in time for christmas 2023.

i'm sure you know where this is going.

in my defense i DID finish the pdf editing by christmas, despite first doing every other possible procrastination project (including a second edition of the little second century warlord book), because by this point my dad had managed to convince me to lower my standards. on the evening of the 22nd i kicked off the print job and said to myself "this will finish printing overnight and then tomorrow i can work on sewing the textblock!"

late on the 23rd, after lots of babysitting and using at least one cartridge of every color ink in my printer, the print job was finally done. (my sweet and lovely cat wants SO BADLY to hunt and stalk the printer while it is printing -- more specifically, the printed pages, i think because they tend to make noise and move and then STOP moving. for this reason, the printer is kept in the craft room, because the cat can be shut out of the craft room and thus prevented from chewing on the pages when i have an all-day book printing job going. unfortunately the craft room was also being pressed into service as a guest room at the time so 80% of the floor space was consumed by an air mattress which i had to repeatedly trip over in order to reach the printer and replace the ink cartridges.)

then i went to my parents' house on the 24th and 25th and apologized to my dad (again) for not having the book finished. but this worked out well because we finished putting together my awesome new book clamp:

(the feet still aren't done being painted so they're just dry-fit on for now but you can still clamp books in it and that's what matters!!)

i came home, sewed the textblock (french link stitch over four linen tapes, with sewn endbands made of variegated embroidery floss over linen cord, and kozo paper glued over the spine)

... and promptly realized i SHOULD HAVE PUT IN MORE OF A GUTTER because some of the text was getting reeeeeeal close to the spine. "it's fine!" i said. "i just have to make sure it lays flat!! what better time than to try out K118 binding, a technique i have literally never done before and which people on the bookbinding discord notoriously have a hard time pulling off first try! i even have tyvek tape for it!"

so it turns out that tyvek tape isn't actually tyvek with glue on it, it's tape FOR attaching pieces of tyvek TO EACH OTHER, which maybe i could have guessed if i'd done even the slightest amount of research or planning. at this point i think it was the 27th and i was still angling to get this thing done by new year's, so no time to order Actual Tyvek.

fortunately, i had ALSO received An Package in the mail with yarn for a totally unrelated knitting project... shipped in a tyvek envelope.

i peeled all the shipping labels and stickers off my tyvek envelope, cut that shit up, and glued it on there.

and THEN it was time for gluing on covers, which i thought was going to be easy because i had actually thought ahead and ordered materials (specifically acid-free museum board), except when i cracked open the box of museum board i decided i Didn't Like It because the surface was too soft and easily dented, so i glued onto it the too-thin board material i'd previously been using (so that the cardboard goes on the outside of the book). this worked super well (the cardboard stuff has a tendency to curl up from the glue moisture, but the museum board doesn't!) and i'll probably use it on other stuff in the future.

i thought the blue bookcloth i used was kind of boring but i showed my dad the available cloth options and he really liked it, so... what do you know? i cut the piece i used on the back cover very slightly too short but it wound up being covered by the leather, so you can barely tell.

and the leather... a scrap just baaaaarely big enough from my bag of leather scraps from discount fabrics... and this the first time i'd ever attempted to put leather on a book... AND YET the only complaint i have is that i didn't manage to put an even amount on the front and back. it's reasonably square and straight!! amazing!!

i am super super happy with how this project came out (especially given the number of problems i encountered) and oh my god check out how much the spine bends

AND, AS A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT, I FINALLY MANAGED TO GIVE IT TO MY DAD

[vixstarria]

Communication

Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.

This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.

Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!

Read on AO3

Astarion x named f!Tav

Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time they actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.

Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst

TW: some very casual violence and murder

Approximately 3.9k words. 

“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Asmodea. “Let’s go!” 

The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area. 

“Go where?” she asked.

“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.” 

“Now..?”

The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.

It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.

“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”

Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.

“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Asmodea.

It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.

“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Asmodea asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before. 

“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”

He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Asmodea smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.

“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.

This… This was new, particularly in public, and Asmodea bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him. 

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning. 

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.

“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.

Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Asmodea told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.

“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”

“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Asmodea. 

“Do indulge me.” 

“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.” 

“Such as?” 

“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered. 

“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?” 

“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh. 

Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit. 

“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.” 

She said the first phrase that came to mind.  

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Asmodea knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.  

“So let’s start with what you think you just said.” 

“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Asmodea gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?” 

“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?” 

“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Asmodea said thoughtfully. 

“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.

“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.” 

Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.

“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Asmodea. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.” 

They found a place to sit down.

“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Asmodea.

“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”

“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Asmodea asked quietly.

Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question. 

“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a Tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.

“Will you stay with me when all this is over?” 

Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes. 

It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like. 

“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive. 

“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...” 

“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause. 

She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails. 

“Stay and do what..?” 

“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”

“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”

“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?” 

“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.” 

They sat in silence for a while. 

“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.” 

Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued. 

“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.” 

“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat. 

“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.” 

“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause. 

“...What?” 

“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.” 

She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.

“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?” 

“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”

“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.

None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.

“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”

“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.

“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”

“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”

Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away. 

Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.

They walked back in silence. 

Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering. 

“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion. 

They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.

Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage. 

“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Asmodea up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons. 

“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.” 

Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed. 

The leader laughed.

“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”

Astarion’s blood boiled.

He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole. 

“Take the ones behind,” Asmodea snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing. 

He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Asmodea spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.

The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter. 

The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Asmodea followed behind him.

The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing. 

Astarion turned back to witness Asmodea standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.

Asmodea barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch. 

A domination spell. 

Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.

 “Kneel,” Asmodea commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.

“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him. 

Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides. 

“…What?”

The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.

“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.

“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…

He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever. 

“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”

She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.

“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”

“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.

“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?” 

“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”

She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him. 

“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising. 

“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.

“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”

“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?” 

She spat on the ground. 

“I’m going back to camp.”

She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.

It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade. 

He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back. 

No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?

It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.

And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.

But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…

There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.

Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.

He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog. 

Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less. 

He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her. 

He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.

“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.

“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.

“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”

“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up. 

Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.

“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.

“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.

Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.

“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.

“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.

“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”

They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

This is the last in-game part of the series for now (aside from some smut - see below). If you want to continue reading about my Tav and Astarion, go ahead and check out Bloodbang Chronicles which takes place 5 years after the end of the game.

Series master list

Next in in-game series - A night at the inn (branches off into smut)

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

@spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin

@asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox

@icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna @mj-bites @bardic-inspo

[platinumshawnn]

SINNER [ escapism ii] | jburrow

AN: Hi, back on my shit with a sequel to Escapism and I will be taking a century long break from writing smut because fuck, this shit took so long to write today that I’m pretty sure I preemptively aged 70 years.

The vibe for the sequel is SINNER by Mishaal Tamer gn kids

Warnings(s): Alcohol consumption, implied consent, fem!reader smut (MDNI, 18+); unprotected sex

Word count: 5.8k

LINK TO PT I Escapism:

Lauren had swept in a few minutes afterwards, with Nick in tow at her heels, her hand releasing his once she had reached the bar that had been her friend’s poor attempt at a saving grace; nearly falling over herself at the bottom step to the floor and practically falling into the pair. Lauren had glanced at Joe as she approached, breathless and laughing as her friend tore her gaze away from the blonde who stood upright at her arrival, the pair of women looking at each other. Her gaze had darted towards where Nick had come up on Joe’s right, nudging him with an elbow to get his attention whilst Joe had taken another long drink from his cup and slowly turning his eyes away after a pause, blue eyes scanning up and down his friend as though he had noted it too — a smear of lipstick to the side of his neck, the black t-shirt doing nothing to hide it.

“You looked like you needed some saving.” Lauren breathed out as she leaned into her, still breathless from her running down the floor and steps in a hurry; she slung an arm around her waist, drawing her attention away from the two men who had become engrossed in their own discussion.

“My savior.” She teased, the free hand not currently occupied with her drink lifting to pinch her cheek, grinning wide as Lauren swatted her hand away with playful whine about her makeup as she covered her cheek that pinkened from the light gesture of her friend. YN hummed as she took a drink from the whiskey sour in her hand, swallowing and lowering it to speak, “It was already messed up, I don’t think I could do more damage.” She commented, the buzzed smile on her face as she tilted her head in the direction of the men who were still preoccupied by whatever Nick was mid-explaining as the pair looked at his phone. Her hand rose to tap her bottom lip with a fingertip, a grin on Lauren’s face.

Her head tilted with a laugh, Lauren’s hand grabbing the hand that had reached out to her face and snagging it in her grasp, her fingers lacing with hers. “Dance with me, you’re not just here to look pretty.” Lauren said, leaning into her to ensure she could be heard as she began to tug her along and away from the bar however she was met by resistance.

“Oh, god, Lauren, no—“

“Come on!”

She could give it to her, that Lauren was stubborn and committed to making things happen — there was no denying her. She watched as her friend had turned, walking backwards as she pulled her along for a few steps as she watched YN’s features soften, caving into her demand as she sighed before grinning at her realization that she had won. Her shoulder grazed Joe’s, touching his back with her knuckles to get his attention for a moment as the two men turned momentarily, shoving the drink into his hand as she flashed a smile over her shoulder at him and followed Lauren into the crowd of dancing bodies that filled every corner of the club; the pulsating music moving the crowd. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but something allowed her to move freely, following Lauren’s lead as the pair inched to the outer edge of the crowd and found a rhythm — maybe it was liquor or the feeling of Joe’s eyes on her as she moved, her head turning to find his eyes through the crowd from his place at the bar, intently watching. She held his eyes as he turned slightly, disregarding whatever Nick was pointing at, already engrossed in conversation with a tiny blonde to his right.

Joe didn’t like to be the type to hover—no. Instead, he was a patient, calculated guy who kept his eyes on what he wanted at all times, just observing; watching until he was ready and his time came.

She watched as he took a long drink from her cup, only then did he drop the eye contact to turn and set it down on the bar top as it was emptied behind him. Her attention was only torn away as he seemed to disappear for a moment behind a couple of passing bodies, the sight of his white t-shirt gone in an instant as a trio of drunk girls who were giggling and clinging to each other with red, glossed over eyes mid-laughter passed the spot that he had claimed by the bar as her eyes searched for him to no avail — he was gone, leaving no trace that he had even been there other than his friend who didn’t even seem to notice his disappearance. She turned her body so that her back was to the crowd, leaning onto her toes as her eyes scanned along the heads that were crowded around the tiny countertop against the wall, however the sight was overwhelming, filled with constant movement of men who oozed desperation and girls who wreaked of nativity, with shifting eyes and stiff movements that implied inexperience. A flash of blonde hair over a crowd had caught her eye, prompting her to take a step in the direction of it as she tried to find those familiar eyes — maybe that smug smile that hinted at arrogance.

A hand on her elbow stopped her, halfway through stepping out and closer to the head of hair, stumbling back half a step when the face turned and appeared through a gap in the movement that didn’t match those familiar boy next door features, “Hey, what’s up?”

Her head turned towards the voice, making eye contact with a young guy who barely reached her eyes as he stared at her expectantly, doing his best to swoon her with a smile that was stiff and hinted at immaturity, lopsided as his gaze scanned over her. The feeling of his eyes on her made her want to crawl out of her skin and disappear as her head swayed from side to side, mouth opening to stammer out some response of ‘no, thank you’ but sliding her arm from his grasp, coming up short for words and recoiling from his touch with tense shoulders and pulling her arms into herself; wrapping around herself as her head turned to look again towards where Joe had previously stood — it was aimless, she knew he wouldn’t be there, but it felt like a good enough starting point.

“What? Have you got a man or something?”

Her eyes scanned from left to right, her eyes searching every face she could make out under the poor lighting. A sudden warmth spread across her cheeks, ashamed and embarrassed as she searched for him; where the fuck had he gone? The idea of another girl having caught his attention a sickening thought that made her angry as she sharply inhaled, feeling a hand touch her side and tearing her from the image — the thought of Joe’s lips on another’s throat, hands at their waist and tugging at their shirt—

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

She glanced over her right shoulder, hair falling behind her as she turned to look back at the boyish stranger who looked like a teenage boy throwing a tantrum and pouting by fault of her rejection as she stepped forward, hands immediately finding her hips as she stepped into the figure that seemed to materialize ahead of her, the sudden contact bringing a yelp of surprise. He wasn’t confrontational but he had a presence about him that could come across as intimidating as he towered over her, his gaze glancing behind her towards the younger man for half a second, a furrow of his brow being flashed in his direction before turning his attention back to her — his touch radiated something soothing deep down to her bones as she seemed to collapse into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, his right hand coming up her back and planting between her ribs to press her into him. She could have stayed just like that, embracing the warmth and comfort he provided but her attention was drawn back to his face as she looked up at him, his hands coming up to her hold her ribs with a careful hands as though he was afraid of crushing her while raising an eyebrow at her as she stilled under his stare, the power of just a look speaking volumes as he silently searched for an answer to check that she was okay. He may not have been hers, but he was caring and kind. He was kind and stunning under the lighting as a flash of blue lighting scanned over them, her eyes lifting towards the moving light fixture that moved over the crowd, looking back to his face as his own eyes searched her expression. She nodded, answering the silent question as she reached up, her hands cradling his face to bring his face close to hers, her chin tilting as she reluctantly hovered her mouth over his as his breath fanned out over his lips. There was a pause between them, just relishing in the closeness before he leaned down to close the gap between them and finally press his mouth to hers in a kiss; lips skilled as they encapsulated hers, his tongue brushing over the delicate skin.

His left hand left her side to come up and find her jaw, his thumb hooked over her cheek as his fingers splayed out to extend against the side of her neck, stumbling forward into her a step. For a moment, she had been caught in a trance as his lips trailed down to press against her jaw, reaching her throat — however, the jostle of shoulders snapped her out of it, tugging on the neck of his shirt before reaching to grab his wrist, “Wait—“ She breathed out, having to tug gain before his face returned to hers, hovering over hers as she eyed him, sucking in a deep breath, “come here— come with me.”

Her mind was racing a million miles an hour as she laced her fingers through his, her gaze darting over his shoulder as her eyes landed on the hallway that lead towards the washrooms; the glowing exit sign a beacon that she followed as she pulled him along, his steps close on her heels and chest just behind her back as they nudged past the distracted crowd that was growing increasingly rowdy the more intoxicated they became — her mind briefly went back to Lauren, glancing over her shoulder as she tried to find her blonde hair in the crowd. Her head was throbbing, overstimulated by the noise and all the lights, the bodies that pushed up against one another as they swayed — she could vaguely make out the song, the bass humming through the walls as she squinted. She blinked a couple of times rapidly, as she caught a glimpse of her, dancing, her back pressed against a guy who struggled to follow her movements.

“Do you want to go back?” Joe asked, his voice close to her ear as he followed her gaze, looking down at her as she paused at the opening of the hallway to watch on for a few seconds — she was okay.

She shook her head, her head turning to look down into the hallway that was only half lit by dim, yellow lights that were buried in the ceiling above them. She knew this hallway like the back of her hand though, from nights spent hiding off in the bathroom or kissing boys she never talked to again — she could navigate it without looking, by touch as her left hand reached out to brush against the wall as they walked. The line to the girls bathroom was shortened, earning only a brief couple of stares as she led past and closer towards the back exit that was only illuminated by the red EXIT sign above it. Her head turned to look behind them as she then pulled Joe to stop against the wall, checking to ensure they were in the clear for security or any other bar staff that might have seen them, her eyes peering past him before she reached out to the opposite wall and blindly found a doorknob that turned with her hand, “Go.” She whispered, yanking Joe forward.

He followed her instructions, moving quickly as his gaze also darted down the hallway to ensure they were safe before he moved, ducking inside. She was close behind, easing the door shut behind her as she stepped inside, his hands once again finding her hips as she stumbled into him in the dark; chest to chest, her head tilting to look up while one hand reached above her to feel, her fingers feeling to find the string to the lightbulb above them. She could feel his eyes on her before the light was even on, the light audibly turning on as she found and pulled the string, her eyes lifting to find his half-lidded stare just watching her as though she was the most fascinating thing in the world. Her hand dropped from the string to his shoulder, watching as his eyes zoned in on the environment — the small, dusty closet seeming to dawn on him as he let out a quiet laugh, “You take a lot of unsuspecting guys back here?” He teased, his eyes returning to her face.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” She retorted, her tone hinting sarcasm — not that she had ever hooked up back here, but she had discovered the old coat check from a friend who had snuck her own alcohol in once during a birthday the year prior. She had brought one person here — a quick kiss that was cut short by Lauren searching for her, forcing her to dart out and being caught by security as she exited. She had been banned from the bar for a month after but hadn’t seen the inside of this closet since.

He let out a ‘mph’, ducking to catch her mouth with his again, resuming the previous kiss but with an increased fervor and need, her own feet stumbling to find their footing as he pulled her towards him. She was putty in his hands, all teeth and tongue as she bunched the fabric of his shirt in her hands at his sides, her mouth falling agape and eyes shut as his mouth dropped to press a trail of open mouth kisses down the length of her throat, his hands sliding down her sides and reaching for the back of her thighs until his fingers came into contact with the hem of her dress that had ridden up just under her bottom with movement. His fingers pressed into the flesh, squeezing it in his hands as he then stumbled forward, guiding the pair towards the door, her left hand falling to soften the fall against it as he back collided with the wood, a groan of approval reverberating from her chest as his mouth trailed over whatever skin he could reach. Her hand flung up from the door to his nape, sliding into the hair at the scalp for grip, as his shoulders dipped, slouching against her as his hands worked to wiggle up the fabric of her dress until it could be bunched over her hips, snug as he fumbled with the material of her tights.

“What do you want?” He mumbled against her skin, his mouth at the base of her throat as he shifted his stance, his left thigh between her legs and bracing his knee against the door. Her free hand found his, covering his larger hand with hers as she guided his hand to between her thighs as his head lifted so he could look her in the face, awaiting her response, and watching her expression as she chewed her bottom lip between her teeth; heavily breathing as she moved.

Joe followed her lead, his hand reaching between her thighs and cupping her through the sheer thighs and panties that felt like nothing more than a few scrap pieces of fabric — skimpy and thin underneath her clothing as his fingers traced over her. He could practically feel her right through the thin fabric as he skillfully pressed into her, his fingers dragging over her clit as his gaze remained fixated on her face, watching the twitch of her eyebrows and her lips as she sucked in a sharp breath. His unoccupied hand planted against the door above her shoulder as his movements continued, slow and deliberate in drawing a reaction from her; trying to drag out the experience as long as he could — it felt like an entire life ago the last time he had seen the sweet expression of bliss on her face, her head tipping back against the door as her mouth opened to let out a soft moan into the empty space. Joe could have listened to that sound on repeat in his headphones for hours straight if it was possible, the sound sending a warmth through his chest and down his abdomen. Her hips thrusted towards his hand, begging silently for more friction as his fingers continued their movements, sliding up to the waist of her tights and tucking underneath to slide down over her hips and pelvis until he could reach down to push his hand into her underwear, his movements more rushed and eager as he fumbled his hand past the silky waistband that fit snug over her hips. He moved to mimic his previous movements, though his fingers made contact with her bare skin, warm and slick with arousal as his fingers rubbed over her clit again in steady circular movements.

Joe could be meticulous — he cared about making his partners feel good, as long as he could remember, gauging the noises and their reaction to his touch. It was an ego thing maybe, that he had to always be good — he needed to know that he could genuinely make them feel good so there wouldn’t be any need for faking it. He had learned to be attentive to the littlest details, a scrunch of the face, a tremble, a twitch — something.

He could see even in the dim lighting as her chest seemed to rise and fall quicker with more labored breathing as she slid her hand from his hair to his shoulder and gripped the muscle there tightly, a slew of soft, high pitched moans breathed out as her eyebrows rose; her eyes shut. He leaned in, his mouth pressing to her neck and nipping at the skin, trailing down to her clavicle. There was a fumble of movements as she reached down suddenly to awkwardly shove at her tights, shimmying them down her legs as he stepped back half a step and withdrew, his hand pulling away from its place between her legs to assist with shoving them down past her knees. It was then that he knelt, her hand planting on his shoulder for balance as he helped her to kick off her heels and slide the tights off; pulling them from her feet and dropping them beside him on the floor. His hands came back to her legs, his head tilting to look up at her as she stared down at him, watching as he moved with slow hands to crept up her legs and thighs until they reached her hips; pressing a kiss above her right knee and to the inside of her thigh as he moved, leaning up and pressing a kiss just above the fabric of her underwear. His fingers slid up underneath the waistband and hooked around it, dragging them down her legs until they fell down around her feet. Her hand remained at his shoulder for support, wobbling for a second.

He shifted in front of her, flat on both knees in front of her as he brought his hand to his mouth and gathered some saliva with the tips of his fingers; leaning in and using his shoulder to nudge her legs apart as his hand came back from his mouth to find her clit again, rubbing with gentle movements. Her hips ground down into his hand, twitching and squeezing his shoulder as tightly as her hand could muster. Joe was slow and cautious not to cause her any harm as his hand shifted, leaning into press his lips to her inner thigh as he gently prodded her entrance with his fingers for a moment before he carefully pushed his middle and ring fingers into her; the intrusion slow but welcome as he instantly felt her clench around him, feeling as she seemed to slouch against the door with a moan of his name. She readjusted her grip on his shoulders, one hand at his shoulder while the other knit itself into his hair as she attempted to straighten herself out against the door, “Joe…”

He hummed against her skin, his fingers slowly thrusting into her with shallow movements, her hips undulating down into his palm; seeking more friction, “We can’t…“ She sighed, her voice shaking as she quietly spoke down to him, “—we can’t be too long.” She reminded him through clenched teeth. He hummed again, knowing she was correct — as much as they both hated to rush things, he pressed a kiss to her pelvic bone, his fingers working a few more gentle thrusts before he withdrew his fingers and brought them back to his mouth to suck them clean, slowly standing from the floor. He was painfully reminded by their setting as he heard a shout from the hallway, inhaling before sighing out the breath of air. His fingers were released from his mouth, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger to guide her mouth to his in a kiss while he pressed his chest to hers. The action had backed her flush against the door, receiving a grateful sigh in turn as it supported her unsteady legs.

Joe held her face close to his, lips mirroring his — a mix of tongue and lips as her hands found his waist to work his jeans undone, opening the button and carefully unzipping them, cautious not to snag any fabric or anything underneath in the poor lighting. Suddenly she cursed the poor visibility, unable to clearly see the look on his face or his general appearance as more than a low quality image as she awkwardly fumbled to shove his jeans down enough. He had to release his hold on her to assist in pushing his jeans and boxers down enough to allow his cock to be released from the confines of his clothing, erect and tip flushed pink as he just nudged the pants down comfortably low on his hips. Her left hand came up to lick her palm before reaching down between them to wrap around the circumference of him, her actions tentative as she slowly pumped along the length of him a few times; her head turned to look down as she carried out the task, his forehead resting to the crown of her head.

“Fuck,” He quietly breathed out.

He allowed her to continue her own movements for a few moments, his left hand clenching along with his jaw as he let out a muffled groan. The recoil from her touch was nearly painful as he pulled her hand away from him, grabbing her hip to guide her into turning so her back was to his chest, her right hand planting firm against the door. Joe glanced down as he replaced her hand to grip his cock, shuffling forward and nudging her feet apart as her hips tilted back to make the position easier; guiding himself towards her entrance until he could swipe through her folds with her arousal as a sort of makeshift lubricant for his movements. She jumped for a moment, sharply inhaling and bracing as she felt him begin to push up and into her, the initial push slow and paired with a stretch that earned a short gasp of air, his hand being freed to reach up and move her hair over to her right shoulder so he could see her without any obstruction. Her head turned towards her left, his left arm bracing against the door at her side as he watched her eyebrows furrow, mouth opening as she leaned up on her toes; his right hand at her ribs and holding her in place against him. With a final shift of his feet between hers, he slowly found a steady rhythm of thrusting up into her, his pelvis rolling up against her ass with each roll of his hips; eliciting a high pitched whine from her, her eyes squeezed shut. The hand at her ribs slid forward and up to her chest, holding the front of her dress as if for leverage — she could feel the cool air against her skin as the tug on her dress caused it to ride down, her chest partially exposed and pressed flush against the door as he seemed to notice; his hand moving to cup her breast in his palm, the nipple taut and erect against his palm.

Her hand flung over his at her chest, jolting upwards with a snap of his hips, “Jesus fuck.” She cried out, feeling his breath on the back of her neck.

His breathing was short, shallow pants from parted lips as he felt her clench around him, eliciting a groan that was lost in her hair as she pressed her hips back against Joe. She reached to nudge some space between her and the door so her free hand could reach aimlessly between her legs, hovering stupidly as she was distracted by his thrusts alone — her brain, as foggy as it was, managed to finally process what her intended move was, her fingers finding her clit and sloppily rubbing vigorously as her hips pushed into his. She could live off the memory of his breathy groans for the rest of her life, even when he was away and at a distance — even if she never spoke to him again, he would be ingrained in her skin.

“So fucking good, baby, you’re so good.” He muttered beside her ear, his words further igniting the pool of heat in her belly; a heat that was searing hot as it slowly spread down her thighs and to her toes.

The hand once over his reached out for the wall like it would help her somehow, ground her as she climbed cloud 9; her moans becoming more desperate whines that were buried under the thundering music from just beyond the door she clutched for dear life, “Holy fuck— fuck.” She cried out, her walls suddenly clamping down around him so tight he was almost forced out from her with the pulsating sensation of her around his cock; stripping him of any remaining composure from him as she reached back and found the nape of his neck blindly, forcing his own orgasm to follow with a curse and gasp from the athlete as his fist balled against the door beside her.

“That’s it, shit.” He breathed out, a groan rumbling from his chest as he coaxed her through her orgasm as long as he could, twitching inside her as she unintentionally milked him through his own as much as he physically could give; his skin layered in a sheen of sweat and panting against her shoulder.

He could feel as she slumped, utterly spent and leaning against the door, jolting against him from hypersensitivity once she seemed to bottom out; letting out an audible content, tired sigh. Joe stayed in place for a moment, his forehead to her temple as she relished in the delicate moments after, his hand at her chest smoothing over the skin and gently pulling the front of her dress back over her as if to provide her some modesty considering the circumstances; with his chest to her back, his head ducking to press a kiss to her shoulder that was sweet in nature and light amidst catching his breath. His hand slid down from her chest to her hip, “You good?” He quietly asked after a few moments of silence had passed between them.

She nodded, swallowing thickly.

“You sure?” Joe asked, waiting until she nodded again before he withdrew his already softening cock from her and keeping his arms underneath her arms as she stood upright from the door. His arms wrapped around her waist, her head falling back against his shoulder as she processed the situation — Lauren would be searching for her and would never let her live this one down if she had put the pieces together. Her arms wrapped over his though rather than rushing to straighten herself out and enjoying the last few blissful moments before she would have to return to the booth and make some excuse to go home to shower; enjoy her post-orgasm haze before her hangover inevitably set in, too blissed out by his warmth to even comprehend anything else. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend any shame or embarrassment at the idea of any patrons sneaking off to the washrooms hearing and figuring out what was going on.

“We’ve gotta get back.” He sighed after a moment.

She deflated against him, disappointed the moment had come to an end so soon but she had been gone too long already. She allowed him to withdraw his arms from holding her, hearing the sound of fabric against skin as he pulled his boxers and pants back up; adjusting himself before his zipper was done up along with the button. Her own hands began to reach to pull her dress down, feeling his skim her sides as he stepped forward again to help with the task in smoothing her dress down and straightening it back down over her backside; bending behind her to grab her underwear.

“I can put them on myself.” She mumbled, taking them from him and turning, bending to step back into them; her legs shaky as she wobbled for a second as she yanked them back up and underneath her dress. Joe’s gaze remained on her as she moved, her gaze down and on the floor, makeup smudged slightly from activity; her lipstick nearly gone at that point. He reached forward to smooth out her dress for her again, reaching up to catch her chin and press a kiss to her mouth — much sweeter and gentle than previous, lingering longer as though he mirrored her sentiments of not wanting to leave right away. She sighed against his mouth, though this one was of content nature, relaxing into his touch, “My shoes…”

“Here.” He said, bending down and kneeling on one knee then, using a hand to quickly shove his disheveled hair back from his face as it fell forward into his forehead. He gathered her shoes and guided her heel as she stepped into them, his hands finding hers to help stabilize her as they stood there for a moment longer when he rose to stand, “I can leave first, you come out a few seconds behind me so we don’t draw too much attention.” He suggested.

She nodded, reaching past him to turn off the light again, leaning up and pressing one final kiss to his mouth. As they shuffled to turn, Joe eased open the door and stuck his head out first, watching down the hall for any security or workers before he ducked out, fixing his hair as he stepped back into the hallway. Chewing her lips, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, dreading the return to the world outside the closet and exhausted. She timed it, waiting twenty or so seconds, enjoying the final moments of peace before she eased open the door and scanned the hallway as well, slipping out and shutting the door behind her, her hands immediately reaching to tug down the hem of her dress. The walk back to the booth felt long, touched out for the night as bodies brushed past her, grimacing when hands would skim over her elbow or reach for her in an attempt to get her attention. She was suddenly more grateful than anything for the support from the security who held her hand as she walked up the stairs and made her way back to where she could see Lauren clinging to Nick, her face in his neck as she walked up behind the pair and clearing her throat.

Lauren’s head shot out around Nick to look at her, wide eyed and taking in her appearance — she hadn’t checked how rough she looked, but Lauren noticed it immediately and narrowed her eyes for a moment. She released Nick and reached out to her friend, “Where did you disappear to?” She asked as a hand touched her shoulder, though her words held a knowing tone to them.

She inhaled, reaching to grab her purse from the coat rack attached to the booth, both Nick and Lauren watching as she slung it over her shoulder and began to fish out her coat check ticket, “I was just walking around. I went and got a smoke from some…girl i met in the washroom.” She fibbed, shrugging her shoulders and flicking her hair back as she looked up.

Lauren hummed and nodded. Her gaze darted towards the booth where Joe was only just situating himself into a seat, catching her eye for a split second before they both looked away, “I’m going to head home though I think. I’m done for the night.”

“Did you want me to come with you?” Lauren asked, earning a shake of her head.

“You stay,” She said, “I just need some sleep. I will talk to you tomorrow, though, okay? You get her home safe.” She said, looking at Nick who nodded once, a small smile on his face as an arm slung around Lauren’s waist. She nudged the pair to bend over the table and lean towards Joe, squeezing his shoulder in a friendly way, her eyes turning to look towards a few of his other friends who she had noticed earlier — Ja’Marr sitting to his right, she waved to him.

“You guys get home safe.” She simply said, Joe’s eyes on her as she straightened up again and fixed her bag on her shoulder.

“Will we see you again soon?” Joe asked, eyebrows raising, his friend agreeing.

“Yeah, we don’t see you much these days. You comin’ down to Cincinnati anytime soon?” Ja’Marr asked, sitting forward to look at her as she shrugged.

“I’ll see if I have some time soon, we’ll see I guess.” She replied, slowly starting to back away as Ja’Marr let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff as Joe looked on.

“Try harder.”

She smiled, waving once more as she turned to leave, reaching out and touching Lauren’s arm as she began to walk towards the bouncer again, “Okay, I’m going now.”

“Alright, I will talk to you in the morning— I love you.” Lauren said, blowing her a kiss before she pointed to her bare legs, “you forgot your leggings by the way.” Lauren stated with a wink, her arm wrapping around Nick’s neck.

[pursuitseternal]

“More Than Just A Little Death:” Heavy Angst with a “glimmer of a happy ending”Dark Lord Astarion x Enemy Tav

Ascended Astarion x Tav | E | 4.5K of angst with a glimmer of a happy ending

Screen grab from @venenum-cadaverinus 🖤

Summary: Centuries of darkness under the rule of the Vampire Ascendant come grinding to a halt. The one being who knows him is bound in his dungeon. What unfolds will hurt, with a glimmer of hope at the end. Mind the tags.

CW: This one will hurt, Heavy angst with a glimmer of a happy ending, Major Character Deaths, Tragedy, Hate Fuck, Sworn Enemies, Regret and True Feelings.

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

Centuries of darkness. Of soot and ash spewed into the sky to blanket the lands in thick, acidic shadow.

Lands coated in constant shadow at the command of the great mountains of fire he has constructed, a matter of dedication to his desire for power, his ambition to rule. Even diverting magma and sulfur from the Peaks of Flame was but a small step in his plans to darken Faerûn, to bring it to heel as he deserved.

These were the lands of the Ascendant, the lands made perfect for his rule, and the heart of his ever-reaching empire. Cities, empires, nations all fell before his strength, his armies of undead vast and allconsuming. Not even Lathander’s Blood or his Light or He himself could touch the forces and power of Lord Astarion. He was brutal, bloodthirsty, ruthless….

And always victorious.

His lands were a breeding ground of spawn and red dragons and other terrifying creatures of the dark. Legends recounted tales of blood and destruction and domination, that the Vampire Ascendant had a heartbeat but no beating heart.

The only one who knew that his heart really did once beat beneath his ribs was just brought to his dungeons, roaming in the shadows of his dark tower. As if he didn’t smell her, knowing that scent even after centuries. As if he didn’t know the dance of her pulse in moments of fear or determination or arousal…

Lord Astarion adjusted the clasps of his armor, for he knew better than to approach her unprotected and unarmed. Given the amount of weapons found on that still supple, lithe frame of hers, it was clear she had come behind enemy lines with one goal in mind.

To finish what she would have centuries before when she left his side.

Stepping into the barred cells and depths of darkness of his dungeons, his eyes fixed their gaze on her trembling in her chains. He let his feet fall loudly, let his breath sound a little louder than he was accustomed to in his own vampiric domain. But it was enough to draw her attention.

Enough to have her stare at him with all the vitriol and hate in her heart he remembered.

And it made him flash a toothsome smirk. “Come to kill me again, darling?”

She said nothing, her breathing just more ragged as he entered her cell, the rusting hinges shrieking as he pushed them open and shut them in his wake. Her nostrils flared, her arms jerked against the chains that hung her arms out wide from her shoulders.

“No warm words for your ancient lover?” he crooned, eyes glowing in the darkness as he rounded behind her. “Hardly like you to not use your tongue in my presence… for speaking or other things…” He ran his fingers lightly up her arm, the thin, dark material of her shift torn from the rough treatment she had already received just being thrown in here. His touch danced harder in the spots where her flesh poked through.

She held her mouth shut firmly, shuddering under his touch, eyes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling so as not to catch a glimpse of him.

“Afraid you’ll fall for me all over again, my dear, if you look at me?” he rasped just beside her pointed ear. A snarl in his throat, he pulled her by her chin, chains rattling as he forced that still beautiful face to meet his stare. She was fury incarnate, eyes dilated with hate, teeth grit to feel his touch on her skin, nostrils flaring with every enraged breath. Shaking herself free she sneered up at his smirk of victory. “Ah, that’s better, just like old times,”

“Unhand me,” she hissed with a snap of her teeth.

“And why would I do that?” Astarion purred, leaning closer to stroke her filthy cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I have you right where I want you, right where you always have been meant to be.”

“Your slave, your prisoner?” she spat, flinching again, eyes like coals burning with hate in the dungeon’s dark.

“At my side, under my touch, commanded by my control,” he looked at her, face lifting in an expression of pure sincerity.

“You mean trapped in the darkness you’ve brought over this beautiful realm…” she made herself reply.

He went silent for a moment, something in his crimson eyes hardened at her accusation. Something shifted in the way his fingers brushed her skin. The way they clamped onto her shoulder to pull her shaking body flush against his armored frame. “You left me in the dark, Tav, you took my sun, my stars and moon when you left me… I took the same from this precious realm you saved just to make it even.” His grip pinched harder, making a gasp unwillingly escape her chapped lips. “I’ve made this world almost as shadowed as your heart, darling.”

Summoning her strength, she resisted his clutch, making herself stand up all the taller despite his force. “You only remade the world in your own image, Astarion… Only doing what you most desire.”

“Oh, perhaps you’ve forgotten after all these centuries,” his touch suddenly wandered over her collarbone, caressing in its warmth as it stole around her neck. “If I allowed myself to do as I desire, you wouldn’t be in some dungeon dangling from chains, covered in grime or clothing even…”

That got her hissing in her breath and pulling at her chains. “You had your fun with my body before I realized how much you deceived me, Ast…” she shut her mouth, almost clipping her own tongue.

The Vampire cackled, low in his chest, a sound so foreign even to himself. “What’s the matter, Tav? Can’t bring yourself to mention my name?” He kept laughing at that low pitch and staccato tempo. He drew up behind her body instead, a fist in her hair to pull that gorgeous neck to the side so he could hiss right in her ear. “Afraid I’ll make you cry it from your lips again as you used to?”

She crammed her jaw shut, tugging her hardest to break from his ironclad hold. A warm, wet tongue lapped up the direction of her artery, and her body shivered, even as her face contorted with disgust. “You have power over the whole world now… all because you lost power over the one thing you wanted more.”

“And what was that, darling?” He hissed against her rapping pulse before dragging his fangs across that alabaster skin.

“Me,” she snipped her reply.

And it just made him give that low, staccato laugh of purest malice. Her words slammed against that darkness in his soul, but he ignored it. Yanking her head back, he made those piercing eyes look into his wicked smirk. “Oh, my delusional darling…” he tutted his tongue, chastising her like a naughty little schoolgirl. “Let me show you the extent of my power, and you tell me if you think it’s truly an equal replacement for you.”

A snap of his fingers, a spell muttered under his breath, and they vanished into thin air.

Winds raced around them, no more than mist, hot and cold, racing through light and dark until he stopped at the top of his grand tower. Tav gasped as her body reformed, freed of her shackles, but crouching on hands and knees as she tried to catch her breath. He stood over her, crowding her so closely, the edges of his scarlet cape fluttered in her face. The hot winds whipped around them both on the parapet, stinking of volcanic sulfur and blood… and she tried not to gag. Panting, it took all her effort to keep her stomach from hurling. And then, his hand slipped into view, offering her aid to get to her feet.

A breathless, disparaging laugh managed it way out from her burning lungs. A sound he did not take kindly to. That pale hand slipped almost invisibly into her hair, yanking her to her feet. “As much as I love the sight of you crumpled and kneeling at my feet, there is something I wish you to see…” he growled.

His other hand framed her chin, forcing her to survey his lands, the shroud of his darkness extending as far as the eye could see. And her eyes flared wide. Not one beam of sun pierced his cover of darkness, not one tree grew in the mud slicks and shadowed city that spanned his domain. All was black and scarlet and golden, refracting the fires of a million torches and bonfires and the fire mountains themselves that burned in the distance.

“Tell me it’s not awe inspiring, the magnitude of my power. Hordes of dragons at my command, legions of spawn and soldiers, an army worthy of the Ascendant…. There is no realm I cannot take, no land I cannot claim under my rule.”

He released her hair, her face, drawing back step to survey her reaction. “And it could have all been yours too…” he sneered. “Tch, what a waste.” Those crimson eyes scanned her body, her frame shaking and weak, her skin dirtied and scratched from his warriors’ rough handling. “How far you have fallen, Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Instead of this.. weak being you are now, I would have made you my queen, my own vampiric bride, with all the right to rule and command at my side.”

“All I see is desperation, Astarion. A man so insistent on chasing power and domination he denied himself two things he loved most.” Tav leveled her clear and shining eyes at him. “Freedom… and sunlight.”

She heard his fangs snap, a growl in his throat.

She continued, “And why would I choose to be with someone so desperate for power, he turns his beautifully scarred back on burning that which made him… happy…” Breath froze in her lungs, she could feel it. That creeping, ancient longing that never quite disappeared over centuries. That haunting that still plagued her mind and heart of times that were simpler and loving.

Times brimming with freedom and sunlight.

He bristled, pulling her roughly to spin, to land against his chest. “I’ll just ignore the fact that you still think of the scars on my body…” he sniggered. “I’ll take it to heart you once cared for my happiness… and not that you probably still touch yourself to the memory of my skin on your skin, the feeling of those scars under your nails as I fucked you…”

Her muscled frame thrashed to be free, to loosen the bonds of his arms around her waist. “I do no such thing…” she hissed. “Don’t you dare accuse me of something so heinous.”

“Yes… I am heinous, fucking me would be totally… heinous…” he snarled the word into her ear, the heat of his breath bathing her skin hotter than the volcanic blasts in the distance. “Fortunately, I still remember the heroine who once was more than willing to do such… heinous things… I wonder if those same things would make her skin crawl now.”

His lips caressed her neck, making her shudder in hatred and fight to breathe. “Let me go,” she hissed and thrashed. “Monster… villain…”

Fists locked around her upper arms like a vice. “Oh, you always knew just how to talk so sweetly to me, darling.” With that, he held her firm, like irons and tighter than chains. “You really do hate me, don’t you?” He hissed, gripping her chin and bringing her lips just to the precipice of his own. “And here I was, ready to offer you one more chance to be mine, my own consort… my right—“

Her lips pressed hard against his, all hatred and teeth and heat on her tongue as she closed that hair's width of a distance. Choking her with his tongue, Astarion couldn’t get enough of that taste. Centuries of deprivation, she clearly craved it too. Her hands struggled beneath his grip, a grip he eased once he realized she was removing his armor, piece by godsdamned piece. He would help if he wasn’t too suspicious.

But his need and desire considered those centuries of command and restraint. He pulled off plate after plate too until there were none left. Then, he took the rest of that feeble linen of her shirt in his fists and tore it full open.

Her flesh was bruised and scarred, centuries of fighting had hardened her, marking her with her own brand of dark obsession. Glancing down at Tav, he broke away from their kiss, both of them wild and panting. For an instant, she looked so soft in the glow of his domain. That dead ember in his core wavered with a hint of life, that longing and vulnerable need… but he snuffed it out. Shoving her hard and fast with all his vampiric speed until her back hit the outer wall of his grand tower.

That same softness was gone behind her eye too. Teeth bared, she gripped his cock painfully hard through his leathers. “Same old spawn. So easy to still reduce you to nothing but whimpering need,” she hissed.

“Enough,” he ordered, hands pulling her torn breeches to shreds until he sank his fingers inside her folds with a satisfied groan. If he closed his eyes, it could have been a tree in the middle of a secret grove that he shoved her against, but he kept his eyes wide open, watching the looks of hate and lust and agony bloom on her sullied face. He watched her head get thrown back against the wall of his fortress, watched her cheeks burst into a deep scarlet blush from desire and shame.

“Fuck… you,” she gave a feral hiss as he freed his cock and sank it inside her one last time. Her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, and he showed no mercy, biting the air in his jaws as he fucked her.

Her head bangged against the stone walls, her back scratched against the rough black stone; it made her whimper, her voice such sweet music to his pointy ears as he rammed home deep inside her. Her hands clawed at his hair, yanking it at its roots to keep his fangs off her. It only made him chuckle low and villainous in his throat. As if she could stop him from biting. “Just couldn’t get enough of our late night trysts, could you, darling? Just couldn’t stay away from seeing my power? Now,” he hissed with venom in his voice, “now… I have… everything I wanted.” He gave a particularly brutal snap of his hips, making her clutch his body and scream in his ear. “Companionship and a little death…”

Tav laughed—laughed—-full throated and musical as he rode her into the wall. Astarion sneered, raising his head to look into those pricing determined eyes. “This is your everything… this?” she rasped, growing breathless with her own pleasure.

Strong, skilled fingers slipped between their bodies so he could claw and squeeze her breast. “Yes, this. My kingdom, my power, my enemy laid low… or just laid.”

She snared at the barb, every muscle in her body shuddering in consuming, blinding pleasure as she came. Her body had already given her away, though, she panted and moaned, her hands hugging at his neck instead of throttling or yanking.

If he only just closed his eyes… he could feel it again. Feel it too.

With a grunt, he shuddered, biting into his own arm so as not to pierce his skin, to give her that poison of his power and his venom to turn her into his. Not yet. Not until she was begging for more, for more of this, of him. Finally, his heart slowed, the pounding inside his head grew gentler. And he kissed her sooty cheek. “I’ve missed this…” he let the words that had reverberated in his mind since he laid eyes on her again out from his lips.

Pulling away, he gave a little smile, the kind where just his lips turn, equally and softly. The kind of smile he had given her centuries ago in his tent, on the road, before all… this. Turning his back, he looked out over his lands, tucking his cock back inside his trousers, savoring that scent of their coupling, faint as it was over the stench of volcanic air. He took a deep breath, that smile creeping across his face wider. “You know, darling, I—” He turned sharply, his hand twisting in a flourish….

Something long and sharp and metal sank into his chest. Tav’s eyes were wide, her hand firmly gripped on that long metal weapon. A stake. Summoned by magic, must have been.

“I…” she faltered, watching the lights in his eyes flicker, that haunting crimson glow starting to dim back to the dull and deep red she had once fallen in love with.

“You think I haven’t been staked before,” he gave an effort to laugh, that deep and sinister chuckle, but now it ended in a burst of coughing. Crumbling, he sank to the stone floor of the wall.

Two arms caught him, holding him on her knees as his body registered the pain in his chest. The numbness. Tav looked down at him, her face hard but not unfeeling.

Something warm and wet slipped from his lips. His fingers trembled as he touched it, pulling them away, their pale tips covered in blood. “You always knew how to make such grand gestures of love, darling, especially after such a rigorous… reunion.” He gave her body another long scan, her chest heaving and her skin blushing with emotion and exertion.

A bitter smile turned one corner of her mouth. “How else was I going to get you out of your armor, Astarion, aside from sex. You haven’t changed all that much.” She twisted the metal in his chest a bit deeper, blood soaking to the stones beneath them. “You may have burned the world, Astarion, but you burned my heart to ashes first. You called me unworthy, an ingrate, a waste and disappointment…” Her face leaned in closer to his. “You said I would regret leaving you more than anything I lived to regret when in reality… I only regret not coming for you sooner.”

“I said many things, including that the greatest crimes in this world are committed for love…” he tried to sweep in arm to gesture to his domain. But he hissed in agony. “I lied before, you know… I did this for you, to sate my hunger for you, to replace my lust for you with bloodlust for the world.”

“What…” Tav replied, taken aback. Her voice sounded eerily similar to words that still haunted her from their past. “Why? Why would you ever speak of… love?” she sneered.

“Because, I never stopped loving you… whatever version of love this dark and beating heart is capable of, that is…” he burst into another fit of coughing. His hand tried to grip the metal in his chest, even as his legs began to grow numb. He knew, as he brushed his fingers against it, this was no ordinary stake. But he was the Vampire Ascendant, even magic had its limits…. Surely.

He reached a hand for her trembling cheek. “Nothing is too late you know, not when a being like me… like you… can have eternity.” He sighed, feeling her warm, wet tears starting to leak from her clear eyes. Gently, he dried them with a soft sweep of his thumb as she leaned into his touch. The first time in centuries. Since his Ascension. “Stay. Be mine,” he whispered, voice thick with gravely need and wet with pain. Blood dripped from his chin.

“I’ll never be your spawn,” she looked down to the space between their bodies, both their chests heaving.

“Queen then,” his hand shook as she held her cheek tighter, trying to pull those quivering lips to his. “Think of how much fun it would be, darling. You can try to kill me every day…” he smirked weakly, “why not a little more death, everyday.”

She gave him a cold smile, watching as he noticed how his hand shook, the taste of blood thickening in his mouth. “I’m afraid I’ll only ever need this one attempt to kill you, Astarion.”

Those eyes forced themselves wider, the metal in his chest thrumming with magic.

“Infernal silver, a gift from our old friend Raphael,” Tav’s lips turned down, her eyes unable to meet his again, even as her tears flowed freely now.

He gave a laugh, a bit more blood coming down his chin. “That must have cost you more than a pretty piece of gold, darling.”

“My soul,” she jutted her chin out. “You’re not the only one to take a deal with a devil.”

He laughed, much weaker now. “Then this is it… you did it, my darling. And I have one last chance to ask you for a chance to talk…” He smirked, pulling her lips against hers just to feel her breath. “I just feel… awful. Nothing about this was simple or easy or meant to be, but I wish it was with all that’s left of my heart.” He winced, a wrack of pain shaking his body as he laid on her lap. “All I had to do was forget just how deeply I had fallen for you…”

He groaned as the pain grew too much. Only to feel her hand on his face now, her warmth steadying him, focusing him. “Which is where your dark and sinister plan fell apart, hmm?” She placed a kiss on his lips as they grew pale. “Same for me… I… I wish I didn’t come. I wish you had told me of your love before I…”

She choked on the words, readying her fist to pull the stake out. But he stopped her. “No leave it,” he ordered. “It will buy us a few more precious moments so I don’t simply bleed out all over your beautiful legs.”

Tav wished she could laugh, wished she had done things differently. “Now I don’t deserve any of these words, Astarion…” she let a sob escape from her lungs. “I have given you nothing…”

“No,” Astarion interrupted with a sudden and frantic burst of strength. “I am nothing without you… I never have been, darling. Even with power and realms on their knees. I only ever… ever wanted you. You… complete me.” The smile on her face was balm to his mortally wounded soul—a soul that would soon end up in the hells for all he had done. But for now, he would bask in the heavens of her arms and sun himself in the light of her smile. “I would have been worthy of you… or at least tried harder to be.”

Tav watched as her tears fell on his own pale face, his skin growing corpse-cold slowly but surely the longer she held him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She began to choke on the slick of tears in her throat. “Why didn’t you say.. something when you first saw me?”

“Because all you saw… all you knew was the monster you believed me to be. And so… that’s what I was for you. You wouldn’t have listened to words of love from a monster. At best I thought you’d say no again. More likely…” he hissed, holding the silver stake in his chest, “you’d run… a stake through my ribs…”

Tav gave a single, tear-soaked laugh, “You… foolish vampire.”

“You leaving me was… the thing I regret… more than any other thing I lived to regret…” A piercing cry, from his slacked mouth and he pulled the stake from his chest, blood gushing and flesh rending, wet and gory. “Looks like… I won’t be living to regret it for much longer…”

The ground shook, the wavering orange light in the distance from the volcanos began to burst brighter. Erupting with blistering heat, rocks and ash spewed into the air. And yet, above them, the shadows parted, the faintest beams of light from the sun began to seep through the cover of darkness.

The power of the Ascendant faltered as his breathing grew shorter, as his heart began to slow.

“I can’t, Astarion,” Tav held him tighter. “I can’t live with this regret now either.” Her chin shuddered as she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have killed you.”

“You should have,” he smiled weakly. “You gave me back what I denied myself… freedom and sunshine…” He looked up into the streaks of pale blue and golden beams that crept through more and more. “And you gave me that feeling of love once more…”

He pulled her face against his, his hand and lips cold once more against her skin. “This is a gift, I won’t forget it.” He began to close his eyes.

“Wait,” she shook him, clinging tightly so as not to let go. As if she could keep his soul bound to his bones. “Take me too. Poison me. Bite me.”

“Why?” Was all he could manage to croak.

“I’m bound for the hells too.” That silver stake in the blood beside them was more than enough damnation for her, too.

He gave a single, feeble laugh. “I was going to go this alone… but…” he hissed as the pain began to take him. “Come here then, darling.”

She placed her neck against his lips, those ancient scars from his fangs still tangible against his tongue as he licked her first. As he always had done. With one final grunt, he bit, letting his poison fill her veins as he managed a mouthful of her blood.

Rich and intoxicating, familiar and simply the best. The stuff of his dreams and nightmares. His world dimmed, his body too numb to taste her anymore. He took one last breath, gave her one last smirk. “You’ve never tasted so sweet… darli—“

He was gone, limp in her arms.

Not that Tav noticed, her own body numb and limp as she lost herself to the poison in her veins.

The earth cracked open, the clouds dispersed, and centuries of darkness and blood turned to mist in the light of the sun once more.

Light and sun and wind felt good on his essence as Astarion’s soul bound for the hells, ready to pay its price of 7000 for centuries of empty power and loneliness. But as his spirit flew, it tingled with recognition… the touch of another soul tangling with it.

One that knew him, that reverberated with pain and loss, with affection and connection—soul to soul.

No longer left in darkness as embers.

A spark of love that had laid dormant between them flamed back tenfold, as these souls streaked across the sky to their fates. Together.

Author’s Note: IM SORRY!! Sometimes you just need to purge the angst as a writer. Write some hate fuck and have a good cry

The next one will be toothrotting fluff to overcompensate 💞💞💞

Out of curiosity: scale of 1-5 🗡️, how badly did it hurt?

[y-rhywbeth2]

Gods and Clergy: Bane

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Religion | Gods | Shar | Sel��ne | Bhaal | Mystra | Jergal | Bane #1 | Bane #2 | Bane #3 | Myrkul | Lathander | Kelemvor | Tyr | Helm | Ilmater | Mielikki | Oghma | Gond | Tempus | Silvanus | Talos | Umberlee | Corellon | Moradin | Yondalla | Garl Glittergold | Eilistraee | Lolth | Laduguer | Gruumsh | Bahamut | Tiamat | Amodeus | The rest of the Faerûnian Pantheon --WIP

Well, I did the murderhobos, might as well cover the deity and daily business of our favourite hot-topic-shopping dictator and co. now? Ahahahahaaaaa There is too much goddamn material on Bane, I'm going to kill Ed Greenwood-

Intro: If you're not consumed with fear and hatred while trying to take over a city which you intend to rule with cruelty and an iron fist then this is not the religion/political party for you. If this is not the religion/party for you, please lower your neck so that I can attach this slave collar to it.

Banites: The hierarchy and rituals and stupid toys of the church of Bane is what you get when Lawful Evil and Lawful Stupid have a horrible, overcomplicated offspring called Lawful Sadistic. Bring me the avatar of Bane I'm going to stab this fucker Also, being goth is mandatory.

Dreadmasters: More teleporting! Bossy, immune to fear and fond of magic rods. Also, do you remember that "divine oath" Durge and Gortash swore...?

The Chosen: Should be way more impressive than what we saw in game. Forging unbreakable oaths! Pet beholders! Detachable shadow spies! Etcetera!

Bane: Boy, the world (and my sanity) would've been a much better off if this dude had gotten intensive therapy instead of divine power!

(This thing is too fucking long and should perhaps be split into two posts but ooooh my god am I not editing this anymore.)

---

Bane's clergy often hear their god whispering his dogma in their dreams:

"Serve no one but me. Fear me always - and make others fear me even more than you do. The Black Hand always strikes down on those who stand against it in the end. Defy me and die - or in your death find loyalty, for I shall compel it. Submit to my will, [as uttered by my ranking clergy] since true power can only be gained through service to me. [Spread the dark fear of Bane.] It is the doom of those unguided by me to let power spill through their hands. [Those who cross the Black Hand meet their dooms earlier and more harshly than those who worship other deities.]" - Bane's Dogma [with 14th century addendums in brackets]

Bane is basically the quintessential villain of the Realms. When a person pictures the face of evil, they picture this god and his followers.

The most important thing to know about Bane and his religion, in my opinion, is summed up here:

"The summons [from Ao] had come wearing the face and form of that which each of the gods feared most. [...] To the Black Lord, Bane, the summons came in the guise of absolute love and understanding, its light searing his essence as it carried him from his kingdom." - Shadowdale

You want to give one of the most evil bastard in the pantheon a panic attack? Give him a hug.

Following a brief version of a backstory that has been given for him; the mortal who would be Bane was born on Abeir, Toril's linked twin planet/parallel universe. There he was a nameless battle slave to Maram of the Great Spear - an ancient primordial being of absolute evil whom the Netherese had summoned into the world, where it broke free and started inflicting horrors upon the world. While in the service of said horrifying evil, the young slave nurtured ambitions of having absolute power for himself.

While on Toril he teamed up with his two future frenemies, Bhaal and Myrkul, and they killed (or possibly subjugated) his master and took his power for themselves, before heading off to nag Jergal for his job. After bickering, the ex-slave known only as "the Bane of the Ancients" wins the draw and gets to be what he always wanted - the epitome of tyranny with godlike power. The next step for him is to conquer the mortal world and destroy all the other gods so that none have power and control over him.

Banite religion is founded on the principle of making Bane's dream of global domination possible. Every Banite is a link in the chains of Bane's power. What they rule, he rules. All Banites strive to take over something (village, city, kingdom, army, whatever). All Banites are expected to aid and obey their superiors in this domination.

When in control, a Banite is to use their power to "further the cause of hate, fear, destruction and strife." Doing so within the control of the law is preferable, but chaos is tolerated as long as that chaos is wielded as a tool with perfect control. You can get voted into power by stirring up people's fears of minorities, or start the apocalypse and present yourself as the saviour - but you must not be overwhelmed, or you have failed.

The world is divided into slaves who have no power and exist to serve, and the powerful who command them. Bane is the rightful master of all and all are to serve him, and by extension his followers (those with the strength to seek, take and hold power), willingly or by force. Control is the key virtue in the eyes of the faith. Always be in control and/or be controlled by somebody more capable/deserving of power than you. As their lessers are expected to obey every order perfectly, the superiors are expected to be competent in their leadership and wield perfect command.

Banites pride themselves on being cold and decisive in all that they say and do. They also enjoy cutting sarcasm. It's vital to appear in command of yourself and the world around you - shouting, loss of temper and other outbursts of behaviour that suggest a lack of control/power are avoided like the plague. Two Banites on the brink of killing each other may appear to be in the midst of only a polite, but insistent disagreement.

Bane used to enjoy watching his power hungry idiots backstabbing each other to climb the ranks while overzealous worshippers splintered into factions and started killing each other (most notably a divide between the divine-magic based orthodoxy and the arcane-magic based reformers/"Transformers".) Then Mystra technically killed him during a fight with Torm in the Time of Troubles, and Cyric took over his church. When Bane made a comeback in the 14th century he immediately decided they wouldn't be doing that anymore. Now it's an united rigid hierarchy from top to bottom, and Banites are a well organised, well equipped unit.

The laws of the heathens are irrelevant, but a Banite who gets caught breaking those law trying to achieve their goals is expected to suck it up and do the time for failure - unless they've been doing such a good job that everybody's too far under their control to try and punish them for it, in which case great job. A+ in Bane worship.

Banites typically establish themselves in an area by finding a location out of sight of a civilisation and building a fortress, where they build their power until they are too strong a force to drive off. Taking over an existing fort is also a possibility. The temple is run like a military base: spartan, with only tapestries showing Bane's symbol and religious texts on it for decoration. The courtyard is meant for military drills and rituals, and there's a mass hall for dining and holding prayer. They like pointy architecture. And black. Oh, and the torture basements! Can't forget those. It's also where they keep a variety of trained monsters in pens. You may end up sharing your cell with a displacer beast or something, but don't worry about it.

Banites have a secret network of teleporting spells. The actual "portals" will be any space of stone big enough to stand on, which are magically connected to other points (also stone). If you stand on one and speak the correct password, then it will teleport you to the destination designated by that password. There are no spells or barriers that can prevent the teleporter from arriving at their destination. Banites can bring others along with them if they are physically connected when the password is said. They can't bring more than 100lbs of inanimate matter with them.

All are welcome to convert to Bane. There will be an interview where your intentions are checked, although if it turns out you're not actually evil-aligned you can still join. There's a good chance that they'll use magic to turn you into an "incorruptible champion of evil and uncompromising disciple of order" anyway; "for Bane recognizes the value of those who have seen the lure of good and turned away from it to serve evil."

Or just use dark magic to twist you from a person into a weapon/guard/servant bound to the service of Bane anyway.

Banites are also able to ensure loyalty with a magically binding divine oath called the Dark Promise, cast by his favoured priests (Dreadmasters). It's an old spell, back from the early days when Bane was a new god and his followers were vulnerable, and is not used as often. When the spell is cast and the oath is made, a set of circumstances are set into motion that targets of the spell must follow to the letter. The promise must have Bane's interests at heart and the conditions and stipulations cannot be endanger the individuals' lives. If the oath is violated, it drains the oath breaker's life force. The damage done by this spell cannot be healed, and if the oath breaking does not cease then they will die.

Bane is one of the few exceptions amongst the gods in that his worshippers are all henotheistic rather than polytheistic. Banites consider worship of other deities "foolish," Bane is the only master you should truly serve. All under Banite rule will be forced to convert to the worship of Bane. They are however willing to cooperate with the followers of Loviatar (pain), Talona (disease), Malar (predation), and Mask (thievery) as Bane has terrified these gods into allying with him. From a certain school of Banite thought, this means that they and their followers are part of the chains of Bane's will (the gods/faithful in question probably wouldn't agree). Bhaal was, or perhaps still is, a servant of Bane and he and Myrkul have also been counted amongst Bane's allies in the past, despite their tendency to squabble, so cooperation with Bhaalists and Myrkulites is not unimaginable when it serves both their deities.

Banites do not get on so well with... anybody, but they particularly hate worshippers of Ilmater (compassion), Tyr (justice), Helm (non-Banite order), Lathander (optimism/renewal), Torm (champion of the innocent), Oghma (knowledge) and Mystra. If they get their hands on one they'll usually torture them and leave their mutilated bodies somewhere for the distressed public to find. Bane and Cyric are still at war, both due to humiliation and the fact that they're still fighting over areas of divine power that the other has stolen/reclaimed from the other, and the corpses of Cyricists that fall into Banite hands are usually found with "heretic" branded on their foreheads as a warning to others who worship the usurper.

Banite clergy are expected to always be armed, and it is mandatory that you at least wear something black at all times. For ceremonial purposes, Banites wear black armour or robes with a blood-red cape. Wizards like to enchant their robes so that they swirl and give off illusions of glittering with "black stars" and have blood dripping off the hem. The higher in the ranks you go, the fancier the clothes get. Banites used to have facial tattooing, although this made them rather easy to identify and kill off when Cyric took over and some purges took place. The highest ranking Banites can be identified by a gem that they wear on their forehead. Banites are not expected to wear anything that would identify their religious affiliations if it would get them persecuted, but they do like decorating their clothes with spikes and are are expected to dress in a certain specific colour that I'm getting sick of typing out. When Bane rules the world we will all be dressing as goths under threat of execution...

Each priest has a ceremonial staff denoting their rank, which they will have at these rituals. When a Banite dies they are buried with it. They are unenchanted and purely for ceremony, at most being used to light braziers. It starts with a simple black wood staff [level 1], which at higher ranks has an ivory skull at the top [lvl 2-4]. Higher yet they add silver plating, and the skull is the size of a fist [lvl 5], and the even higher level priests that skull has ram horns [lvl 6]. After that you get real human skulls! [at lvl 7+]! They're allowed to decorate theirs how they like, as well as adding enchantments. So gemstones, magic runes, etc.

Bane's holy symbol is the Black Hand, a symbol of terror recognisable to the entire Realms. Versions include a black handprint, a black claw or a metal gauntlet embedded with jewels. Priests usually wear a replica of the hand as a carved pendant of black stone. There is another Black Hand seen on his high-ranking priests: elbow-length gloves crafted of flexible metal mesh or chainmail, usually worn on the left hand. It emits an eerie dark radiance, i's supposed to be black, and a non-Banite found wearing one can expect every Banite on the planet to hunt them to the ends of the world for this blasphemy (also it's about 50,000gp in value jfc). The gauntlet cannot be damaged by force and absorbs all spells of third level or less. Area of effect spells are not negated, but cannot affect the wearer. It can drain magic out of items, should the wearer touch them with intent to do so. The wearer can then discharge all of the absorbed magic into the body of another by touching them, causing them damage. They can also paralyze undead and living beings via touch.

To question or disobey a superior is to question or disobey Bane himself, and is answered by torture, disfigurement and/or death. The word of a Banite of superior rank is law, and you will do literally anything they ask you to do.

Banites have invented a magic whip (a mystic lash) that does all sorts of fun nonsense in case that happens. It's made of glowing red energy. If the priest needs their hands free then the whip can actually wield itself (need to scourge that annoying initiate, but you don't want to look up from your book? Then good news!) If the wielder choses, a lash of the whip may cause one of the following; paralysis, memory loss, seizures, extra damage plus the disintegration of equipment, or electrocution.

One is expected to greet those of higher rank by kneeling in front of them and kissing their boots

At the bottom of the hierarchy are the novices, who are addressed by the title of "slave." If they're good enough, Bane will send them a dream vision or manifest as a voice speaking from one of his altars - he will name them, and they are allowed to enter the first rank of the priesthood… of which there are 12 ranks with their own unique addresses, which everybody is expected to memorise. Disrespect to a higher rank will, as mentioned, involve insulting Bane and lead to torture, disfigurement and potential death.

The only time you're not expected to use the titles is when in the presence of heathens, Banites will address each other as Brother/Sister Faithful (when speaking to an equal/lesser) or Dread Brother/Sister (when addressing a superior).

Banites do not refer to each other by name, only by the name of their rank (unless there are too many individuals of the same rank. In the case you had a room full of Black Fangs, you would address them individually as Black Fang [Surname].) It's generally impossible for eavesdroppers to learn the names or personal details of a Banite.

The rankings are determined by character level, and are as follows:

Watchful Brother/Sister/Sibling

Deadly Adept

Trusted Servant

Willing Whip

Hooded Menace

Black Fang

Striking Hand

Vigilant Talon

Masked Death

Dark Doom

Higher Doom

Deep Mystery

The Deep Mysteries include the Deeper Mysteries… which have their own ranks! Secret, higher levels which are unknown to those of the first 11 levels who must address all higher ranking Banites as "Deep Mystery." There is no official means by which a Banite is bestowed this title, they bestow them upon themselves if they believe they should have the rank. The test lies in the fact that in order to keep the title their fellow Banites must also begin using them - in other words if you are not a pretender and truly have the power and authority to hold this title, then your siblings in the faith will follow.

The ranks of the Deep Mysteries, in order of authority, from lowest to highest:

Vigilator

Lord/Lady of Mysteries

Lord/Lady of the Hand

Imperceptor

Dark Imperceptor

Grand Bloodletter

High Inquisitor

The High Imperceptor is the Banite of highest rank of the Deep Mysteries, supreme living servant of Bane, and unlike the prior titles this one cannot be self-bestowed. I haven't seen any explanation for how it is bestowed, but I imagine Bane decides.

Banites don't bother with set holy days. We will have a holy day whenever the leading priest decides we're having one, and it will be called whatever they decide it is. This usually means a) somebody fucked up, time for a public punishment; or b) we've got an enemy/traitor, time for human sacrifice.

Rituals are to be held in as close to pitch darkness as is possible, gathered around the Black Altar (a wood table covered in a black cloth, a block of black stone - whatever, just so long as it's black so we can give it an ominous name). The Black Altar is to be made holy by having a replica of the Holy Hand of Bane floating above it (this too has to be black in colour). This is a levitating 6 foot tall stone hand that can sense alignments within a 60 foot radius, and it will attack good-aligned people on encountering them. When not in use it patrols Banite locations, seeking out spies and intruders and killing them.

And that the Seat of Bane will be placed in front of the Black Altar. The chair is black, its back is carved into the shape of a hand. Senior clergy sit in the throne when acting as Bane's voice for the rest of the congregation. So the leader of the area's Banites sits in the chair, and that means Bane is sitting in the chair. While sitting in it, the seated can read the thoughts of all beings within 90 yards. it can project a forcefield around the chair; can nullify magic in the area; allows the seated to see through illusions and invisibility; know the alignment of everyone present; allow the seated to speak with dead; and also conjure walls of fire. If the chair is knocked over, it causes a massive explosion of fire that kills everyone around it.

Then the party. With minimum partying and maximum solemn, ominous chanting and deep, heavy drum beats. Those guilty of disobedience or other failures will be chained to the altar and whipped in front of the congregation. And then there's the human sacrifice: "Sacrifices had to be humiliated, tortured, and made to show fear before dying to be acceptable to Bane, and they usually met their deaths through slashing, flogging, or being crushed by the Hand of Bane."

The traditional power base of the Banite faith was Zhentil Keep, the base of operations for the Zhentarim. The Black Network has once again been taken from Bane by Cyricists however, after the death of Fzoul Chembryl a few decades back - Fzoul was a Chosen of Bane and basically his favourite servant (who has since been made into a quasi-deity bearing some of Bane's divine power, that he may continue to serve) and Zhentil Keep is currently in ruins. The loss of the Keep (for a second time) destroyed Zhentarim power, and now they're mostly just a bunch of mercenaries with good connections on the black market trade routes (slaves, drugs, weapons, etc) as far as I can find.

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The Dreadmasters are Bane's specialty priests, making up 10% of all Banites. Dreadmaster is a unisex title. They spend their time doing all the spellwork and making all the delightful inventions that have been giving me a headache. They have a stupid number of spells given to them. Nobody else's specialty priests have this many fucking spells.

They cannot feel fear from sources other than Bane

They can, however, project the feeling of absolute terror into every being within 10 feet of them, usually causing everyone to run screaming.

They can completely destroy the souls of the dying

Create extra evil undead

Create powerful, still sapient undead servants from dead Banites (from ghouls up to vampires)

Create animated suits of armour that serve the Banites, powered by people's souls

Make a warding symbol drawn with a mixture containing three drops of blood from a collection made by sacrificing 30 people. The ward is invisible and cannot be detected, and when activated it drains the life out of everyone present.

They have a supernatural knack for reading other's true moods and intentions They have a supernatural level of charisma and authority over their servants, who cannot help but be fanatically loyal

They are exceptionally skilled in the artificing of magical wands, rods and staves. When they use them the magic of the items is increased.

They're the ones who cast the stonewalk spells that make the teleport network run.

They're also the priests responsible for binding the Dark Promise.

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"The Chosen of Bane are tyrants in every sense of the word, consumed with the quest for absolute power. Hand-picked by the deity of tyranny and fear, [they] are both charismatic and filled with hate [...] They seek only to rule with absolute, unchallenged authority over every living and undead create across the world."

They are unbothered by temperature, both hot and cold, as well as resistant to being burned or electrocuted.

They do not age, though they will still die at an age where they would've died if they did age.

Supernatural insight into motives and emotions, and a massive boost to their charisma.

They can mind control people, are immune to fear, can share this immunity with others or increase the fear they feel.

They can also cast gaes, which is basically exactly the same as the Dark Promise, but doesn't necessarily have to benefit Bane (blasphemous as that sounds).

They can summon undead beholders to serve them

They can grant their own shadows independence as an undead creature of the same name (shadows), While separate the shadow is free-willed, though the two remain telepathically linked.

They are served by a retinue of their own master's servants including: doppelgangers; helmed horrors; beholders; undead Banites; hell hounds; imps; displacer beasts; Banelar nagas (evil snake things with human faces)

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Bane doesn't like using avatars, if he needs to manifest on Toril he just possesses people in positions of wealth and power who transform into handsome, yet "oily" looking black haired men as long as he's inhabiting them. The souls of these people are forced to watch as the god does what he wants. Once the body is "worn out" from all the punishment he puts them through (mortal shells, so fragile) he'll move to another evil or neutral mortal via touch.

If he strikes out with his gauntleted hand, then there is a good chance that the person stuck will drop dead.

In combat he warps the face into a more beastial visage. His hands become talons capable of "rending flesh and bone" and in the Time of Troubles when he was first forced to manifest as a normal human he immediately started editing the body into a more demonic visage although that might've been because he'd just crash landed in his own temple and destroyed it, and only had a few moments until his torture happy zealots turned up to find what seemed to be some random dude standing in the wreckage. He was in kind of a panic trying to make sure they saw Bane, God of Tyranny not... that.

His other manifestations as a pair of blazing red eyes staring out from the darkness, and a black, taloned hand which was the temperature of ice to the touch. They work exactly like his other manifestation.

Bane sometimes announces his presence, and that he is paying attention to you, with the sudden manifestation of the giant footprint of a boot, scorched into the earth. He shows his approval of his followers through their sudden discovery of a black sapphire. His disapproval is shown through the sudden appearance of red carnelian, ground into dust.

He is served by various devils, beholders, death tyrants (the undead remains of beholders that failed him), black dragons, banelar nagas and pride incarnates

Bane can cast any spell at will, save those that heal or create.

Bane was slain in the Time of Troubles. After his death his followers had an even bigger row between those who were loyal to Bane (orthodoxy) and those who worshipped his portfolio instead of the god himself and switched to Cyric. Many of the Orthodoxy began worshipping Iyachtu Xvim the Godson, son of Bane (whose mother was either a fiend or a fallen human paladin, nobody's sure).

Xvim was doing a pretty ok job in his nascent godhood up until 1372 DR, when Bane hijacked the essence of himself he'd left in his son and destroyed him - being reborn within his body and immediately regaining the rank of Greater Deity. About a few years following the Bhaalspawn Crisis, the year where Bhaal was supposed to be reborn from the death of his kids but failed.

Bane went on to continue being one of the most infamous, powerful and dangerous gods on Faerûn up until the Second Sundering, when suddenly we've got confusion.

In BG3 canon, the Dead Three are clearly greater than quasi-deity status. Due to new rules that WotC pulled out of their ass, gods of lesser deity status or higher cannot manifest avatars. Bane can still empower clerics and have Chosen, so he's most likely still a Greater Deity in BG3.

In Descent into Avernus, the Dead Three are apparently quasi-deities now, forced to exist in permanent avatars on Toril and unable to grant spells of have Chosen.

I think this nicely explains what I mean when I say D&D has no fucking "real" canon, it's all just a mountain of everyone's headcanons.