#and years later came the violent realization

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Years Later

Previous | Masterpost

It had been almost three years since Danny and his twin brother Damian had come to live with their father and Danny thought that they had both done pretty well for themselves. Damian had settled in, bonded with the family, stopped trying to kill their siblings, and made friends with Superman’s youngest son. He still had a very hard time relating to civilians, but everyone had their issues, right?

While their father had been missing for a while they’re all had to step up, and their eldest brother Dick had become Batman and finally made Damian the new Robin. It wasn’t how they had expected that to happen, but even through the grief of losing their father both Damian and Danyal had been happy he got the roll. Dick being Batman had been temporary because both Tim and Danny had been sure Bruce was still alive, and with both of them they’d managed to convince others and free Bruce from the time stream.

When Bruce had recovered and was ready to become Batman again Damian had remained Robin and Tim had gone on to be his own hero, Dick returning to being Nightwing. Damian was happy to work with their father again, training and bonding as heroes. He was good at it too, even if his methods were a bit more violent then Batman would have liked, they were working on that.

As for Danny, he had never joined the night life properly. His siblings teased him about it a little, but Bruce had nearly cried for joy when Danny had been firm in that regard even if he couldn’t escape it entirely, being surround by it as he was, he could refuse to put on a mask. He still wanted to help keep his family safe, so he worked with Tim and Bruce on manufacturing the bat’s gear, and learned how to hack and program with Babs. He ended up an engineer and a ‘guy in the chair’ for his family while they went out to fight crime.

It was calmer, and more fun for him, not to mention less exhausting which allowed him to focus on being as much of a ‘normal kid’ as he could be. He joined more clubs then Damian, and made some civilian friends! Including Sam Manson, who had rich parents who were uncomfortable happy with their daughter hanging out with a Wayne, and Tucker who was at the private school on a scholarship because of his engineering prowess. They were good friends, and Danny was happy to have them despite Sam’s weird family, who he tried to avoid.

It was all going pretty well, except for one thing, the experiments on the Lazarus water. He had started working on it with Tim and Bruce, but been right that Bruce would hold them back, and it meant that the experiments were going nowhere. He thought that he probably could have talked Tim into doing some of the more out there things he wanted but then Tim left, and Bruce was still keeping track of what Danny was doing leaving him unable to work without fighting against his father every step of the way. His brother too, because he had been right that Damian would be loyal to Bruce once their father earned it.

Danny had theories, and charts, and things he wanted to try. But they all came from hunches and dreams which just weren’t enough proof for The Batman even though this was at least half magic and that was half instinct. Danny was nowhere near where he wanted to be at this point, and could not even manufacture his own substitute.

It hadn’t been an imminent problem until the League of Shadows finally realized neither Danny nor Damian had any plans of returning and started trying to claw them back. Talia still sent Danny bottles of Lazarus water sometimes, but it seemed like she was having to smuggle it out which meant he was getting significantly less. There were the clones too. The lack of Lazarus water seemed to be how they were trying to flush Danny out and force him to return, and the clones were being sent to drag Damian back as well.

So far there hadn’t been any clones of Danny, but he was keeping an eye out just in case. The lack of water wasn’t an immediate threat since he had some stockpiled but he was very worried, and if he didn’t figure it out soon it would turn into a problem. He wouldn’t be able to run tests anymore if he was having to save all of it, and if he couldn’t run he wouldn’t find out how to manufacture it. It would end the same way, with him having to return to the League of Shadows or try and steal more water himself which would just end in the same dilemma when he ran out again.

He could try to convince Bruce again in light of this, but they’d had multiple talks about this over the years and though the dependence on the league was becoming a bigger issue Danny wasn’t sure that would matter. Bruce’s world view was uncomfortably black and white. Besides he had bigger long-term plans.

It wasn’t just to recreate it, yes that was the initial goal but that wasn’t going to be where his experimentation ended and he knew it. He knew in his bones that once purified the waters could be used for so much more then just healing the sickly and killing the healthy. The raw energy in them was meant to be so much more! And then there were the dreams, which had never stopped and had only been getting more vivid and insistent as time went on.

More then just a voice calling him now, they showed him things. They showed him an ancient war that had torn holes in reality, an ancient king of blood and magic who had done much harm. And again and again the glowing green portal that he knew he had to build! He had never cared much for destiny, but he couldn’t just ignore this, especially when he could feel the pain of the ancient being who called to him. Just another secret to keep from his family because he didn’t want them to interfere.

It would be easier to do what he needed to do without adult supervision, and he had some ideas about how to go about it. He needed space first, and equipment. Money could get all of that, but how much could he steal without father noticing? He had already started of course, skimming a bit here and a bit there off the top and stashing it away, but the way that was going it would be far to long before he had enough money for everything he needed.

There was another thing that worried Danny too, that he’d seen during his time as ‘the guy in the chair’. The new player in Crime Alley, that Bruce was… worried about, but not hugely yet, he was just getting established after all. The problem was, he was incredibly violent, and his techniques reeked of the league, and of something more. Danny had the uncomfortable feeling he knew exactly who it was beneath the red hood, another secret that he’d kept coming back to bite him. But everything in him still rejected the idea of just coming out and telling all his secrets. Knowledge was power after all, and maybe he could still use this as well.

In fact, he was sure that he could use it. He just had to play the game right, and this might turn out to be exactly what he needed.

 It had been easy to steal some of the other bat’s gear, just a mask, and a few weapons just in case. Easier still to sneak out on a night when they were already out on patrol and head to crime alley with put being spotted. They rarely patrolled there anyway, not that there wasn’t crime there, but because all of it was so integrated in gangs and organized crime there wasn’t time for the little fish and trying usually just lead to more trouble. He would have heard if there was a planned strike because it would have been all hands on deck.

So he put on the mask, and the symbol of the bat, and simply wandered into the territory of the Red Hood. He grappled to an inaccessible roof where he wouldn’t be easy prey for petty thugs and simply waited knowing that Red Hood would find him. It wasn’t long before he heard the thump of someone much heavier landing on the roof behind him and turned to see a familiar hulking man. Danny felt his breath catch in his throat with the chill and he breathed carefully through the odd sense of Pit being nearby that he hadn’t felt since leaving the league confirming his suspicions.

“Well well, you’re a long way from the roost aren’t you birdy? And all on your own?” Red Hood asked, a modulator disguised the sound of his voice, but not really his patterns, Danny smiled and rocked back on his heels.

“All by my lonesome. Because I wanted to talk to you, I recognize league training when I see it. Did they send you?” He asked cocking his head to the side. He refused to tense up or act like he was intimidated or afraid, that would only make him seem like prey and wouldn’t do any good. He was here now, and wasn’t sure he could beat Jason so if the other did attack… well Danny would just have to lay in the grave he’d dug for himself.

“No,” Jason snarled, his fingers twitching around the gun in his hand as he stepped forward. “I don’t work for those fuckers. But they told me, they told me what Bruce did, and how quickly he replaced the last robin with another blue eyes black haired boy. Are you the next one in the chain? He needs to pay for the way he treats those kids.”

“Ah so they cocked you like a gun and pointed you in our direction,” Danny said with a sigh. “No, I’m not the next robin, and that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I have a deal to offer you, Jason.”

Jason snarled and moved quickly, before Danny could blink the gun was pointed straight at his head. “What sort of deal Brat? Because if you’re planning on blackmailing me what’s stopping me from just shooting you? You won’t be able to tell anyone then.”

“I don’t think you’d shoot a child Jason,” Danny said softly. “But no, I mean, not telling Bruce is part of the deal but I have more to offer then that. There are experiments I want to do, things I want to find out that father will not let me. I need a space and equipment for a lab. In return, I won’t tell anyone your secret identity and I can get you access to Bat tech, and build some new things for you. I’ve been building and adding to bat tech for years, without the Batman’s strict morals holding me back I bet I can build you some… interesting weapons.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them before Jason threw his head back and laughed, lowering his weapon. “Well I want to get back at Bruce, and I think enabling another one of his kids to turn against him is an excellent start.”

Danny relaxed and grinned as well, he wasn’t actually planning on turning against his father or siblings but he didn’t feel like arguing about it. Especially when they probably would see this as a betrayal. As if they hadn’t all kept secrets. As if Tim still hadn’t told Damian or Bruce about the Legue of Shadows bases he had blown up and all the people he’d killed while searching for Bruce. Not that Danny was going to out his brother of course.

“I’ve been clearing out any gangs that use kids from the Lanes,” Jason said, his posture relaxed now. “They left plenty of empty warehouses, you can have one of those for your lab. I can get you a decent amount of equipment taken from mad scientist and drug rings I’ve busted but I’m not getting you a fucking grocery list. Anything you want that’s missing you’ll have to get yourself,” Jason said, pointing at Danny.

“I wasn’t expecting you to play nursemaid. Anything you can’t get I can get a hold of myself. I still have access to Bruce’s bank account and he’s used to me regularly making orders of mechanical parts and scientific instruments for the work I do for him. I can get what I need.”

“Good, I know you’re a kid, but I’m not holding your hand,” Jason sneered.

Danny laughed and shook his head; “You should know that none of us Batman take in are kidsin any way that matters. Dick had already been out fighting crime for four years by the time he was my age. I’m no different, I was raised in the league even before moving in with dad. If you tried to hold my hand, I’d cut it off.”

“Feisty,” Jason said in a tone of approval. “Meet me at the docks same time next week. I’ll have gotten what I can for you by then, you can set it up on your own.”

“I can handle it. I’ll build you something to start, but after that I won’t be keeping a schedule. You can make requests if there are things you need but I have a lot of work to do,” He said before he rolled off the roof backwards and slowed his fall enough to get the grapple out and swing away.

To his disappointment his powers hadn’t really grown as he did, so slowing himself was still the best he could do. Just lessen gravity’s effects on him a bit, density shift his limbs for a few seconds but not longer, and not his whole body, blend into shadows but not disappear. He was stronger, faster, and a little more sensitive then the average person, but that was all which was both annoying, and confusing because the voice in his dreams promised him he could be so much more.

He was home that night before his brother and father, and he had a proper fucking plan! He was going to have a lab, a secret place that he could do what he needed to do free of restrictions. He would need a secret identity of his own, a suit that would hide him fully so not even Damian would be able to recognize. A full helmet and a vocal distorter like Jason had, maybe one that sort of matched though he’d have to run that by Jason. So much for not putting on a mask he supposed, though he wasn’t exactly planning to be a hero.

 He couldn’t wait!

---------

It was easy to ask Sam to act as a cover for if Danny was caught out of the house. He would get in trouble for sneaking out to stay the night with a girl of course, but that was much better than his lab being found. She was happy to enable his rebellion though he hadn’t told her the entire truth about what he would be doing, just asked that is his family called she would say he was with her.

He spent his down time in that week using scrap from the cave to build his helmet and since he was always tinkering with one thing or another no one really noticed. He left cosmetic details for later so he could ask about making it match with Red Hood’s a little bit. For now, he kept it black for the most part. He’d need a suit too. Black, white, and red sounded good, he could easily get the black and red material since it was used in Batman’s and Robin’s suits, the white would be something he’d have to make himself.

With that in mind he started working on his suit as well. He was going to be essentially a villain for now, he might as well lean into the aesthetics of it and have some fun right? He wasn’t planning on hurting anyone or being ‘evil’ but he was going against Batman and teaming up with Red Hood so he knew how that would look. He didn’t know fully what he wanted it to look like, but he knew that he wanted claws so he started with that and after a few sketches he had a design.

All of the vital areas of his body were clothed in black, a vest tunic that went down to mid thigh with a red wrap belt to keep it from flapping around too much. The long sleeved shirt underneath was white, going down over his hands in tight gloves tipped with red claws like they were stained with old blood. Each arm was wrapped elbow to wrist, and around the palm with black bandages of thick material that made them nearly gauntlets. The pants underneath were loose and white, stuffed and secured into black boots with thick durable tread and laces in red.

The helmet was black as well, with red eyes and white detailing along the seems and forming a sort of mouth. It would do for now, he could always change it later but he wanted to have this done by the time he started working on his lab so there was a pretty tight deadline. He was still putting the finishing touches on it the day before he went to see Red Hood again, on a weekend night of course, the bats would be busy and everyone could sleep in in the morning.

He fully suited up with tools tucked into his belt and his weapons strapped to his back and snuck out the window not long after the bats flew the roost, making his way quickly to the Alley and down to the docks. Landing on one of the taller roofs he pulled out a pair of small binoculars equipped with night vision and thermo sensors and scanned the area, quickly spotting Jason and a few, what looked like workmen, bringing boxes into the warehouse. Just in case it was a trap Danny waited for them to leave, and once Jason was alone dropped down and slid into the warehouse.

There were tables set up around and boxes on the floor, the lights were on which was good, he’d need electricity. And there was Red Hood, standing in the middle of the warehouse with his arms crossed, his posture tense and impatient. He turned and looked Danny up and down, letting out a distorted chuckle. “You really committed to the bit huh?” He asked, amusement coming through the distortion.

“Well I’m going to be doing this, I might as well. The last thing I want it to be recognized coming in and out, or caught by any of the bats or birds,” He hummed, reaching up to turn off his own vocal distortion which made his voice sound like ghostly whispers. “By the way, I am trained to fight and I practice daily. If you need backup call me. I won’t hurt father or our siblings, but if anything is compromising our deal or my lab I’ll defend it.” He started to open boxes, seeing what equipment Jason had found for him.

“They’re not my siblings,” Jason snarled, his fingers twitching on his crossed arms.

“As you say,” Danny said blandly, rolling his eyes under his mask. “I should warn you as well that I’m going to be working with Lazarus water here.”

“What?!” Jason practically roared. “You’re going to be bringing Lazarus water HERE?!”

Danny dodged on instinct, and was almost surprised when he found Jason hadn’t tried to shoot him. “Yes. I know what the league uses it for, but it clearly has a lot of untapped potential. I think if I can purify it and harness it right I can use it for something Good. I know you’ve had a bad experience with it, I have too,” Danny said, turning back towards Jason with his hands on his hips.

“I died too, when I was eight and they dunked me in the stuff as well. I saw what you were like after they pulled you out, I know why you’re afraid of it. But I know what it’s like and I swear that is Not what I will be using it for. And I’m not doing it for the league either, I don’t want any of this research getting back to them. I have my own motivations, and that includes healing the lasting effects the Pit had on me, hopefully I can heal you as well. I’m not making any promises since I haven’t even started yet, but I might.”

Jason took deep, slow breaths and even through the eyeholes of the mask Danny could see Jason’s eyes were glowing green with familiar maddening rage. “Fine,” Jason growled and stocked out of the building.

Danny let him go. Jason clearly needed time to cool off, but Danny hoped he would come back before he had to leave so that they could talk more about check ins and how to contact each other. If he didn’t it wasn’t the end of the world. Danny would be coming back regularly and didn’t need permission to do so. Jason would know where to find Danny when he was ready to talk about whatever.

Danny pulled a trip wire and a few bombs and batteries out of his pouches and set up a first perimeter with alerts and a second one with traps. Once he felt more secure in his space Danny started to empty the boxes and set up the burners, beakers, distillers and the other equipment Jason had managed to get for him. Danny was surprised and pleased to find a generator as well! This way if he needed extra power he had a way to get it without raising any flags.

It took him a few hours to get everything set up and make a list of the things he still needed, which was mostly more advanced and sensitive. He muttered to himself as he checked over the building knowing the rudimentary security he’d set up was Barely enough for a regular lab, he’d need much more substantial protections for this. Probably a fail safe to destroy the research if someone unauthorized gets in as well. Despite wanting to rush there was no way he could start working with the Lazarus water for at least a month, till then he could tinker with weapons between deliveries of equipment and other things to do.

He didn’t see Jason again before he headed home, but he wanted to be there a bit before he knew dad and Damian would to avoid running into them. He stripped off his costume leaving him in the white pants and a tank top before carefully climbed back through the window to his bedroom. He knew the placements of the cameras like the back of his hand and was sure he could sneak in and out without being seen but just in case he’d rather be spotted in civilian clothes. He wasn’t a known yet and he wanted to stay off his family’s radar as long as possible. Especially because despite having a costume he hadn’t thought of a name yet!

He could always just wait and see what his family started calling him when they eventually became aware of his… rogue persona, and go with that but they didn’t always have the best taste. With his assassin training and his abilities, he thought that it would make sense to have some sort of name referencing a ghost. He didn’t want one that was too obvious though so it was probably time to do a little bit of research to find a ghost that would suit him. Maybe on a school computer so it couldn’t be easily traced back to him.

He should ask Sam too, she was really into this spooky stuff so she’d enjoy helping him pick a name. He wouldn’t be fully honest about what he was looking for, just that he was researching different ghosts, she’d be happy with that. She might put two and two together once his ‘rogue persona’ became known, but as long as he didn’t hurt anyone he thought she’d be on board. He just didn’t plan to tell them till he had to, one less potential avenue for exposure.

There were a lot of things he hadn’t told her or Tucker, that was the problem with having a family like his, whether he was involved or not any relationship had to be built on lies. He couldn’t tell them about being raised in a cult of assassins, about being heir the Demon Head and the Batman, he couldn’t tell them about his family’s hero work. What was one more secret on top of all the ones he and the family were already keeping?

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Sweet Like Wine

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Your monthly bleed is over—just in time for you and Astarion to find yourselves with a bit of alone time. You might not be able to feed your vampire as easily, but there's another hunger for the two of you to satiate.

Word Count: 9,154 words of filth

Warnings: sexual content (18+), soft Astarion, vulnerable Astarion, slightly insecure Astarion, mention of past sexual trauma, pet names, Astarion still doesn't realize he's loved for more than his body,

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral (f receiving, m receiving), touching over clothes, naked grinding, bite kink, blood kink, soft sex, creampie, aftercare, use of the words pussy, dick, cunt & cock, mentions of reader's period

Burns Like Rum (part 1) found {here}

Epilogue Cherry Blush coming soon!

Note: Thank you for all the love on the first part! I'm glad everyone loved it! Here's the second part :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Rain was coming. You had smelled it on the air for several days now, an altogether pleasant scent that reminded you of fast-flowing rivers in a pine forest, distinctly earthy and cold.

The first day you'd smelled it, so had Astarion, stopping every few seconds to sneeze and then complain about his heightened sense of smell being trigged by weather.

You had taken to sleeping in Astarion’s tent with him over the past few days, enjoying each other’s company while you waited for your period to end. He was enjoying getting fed nightly, and you were enjoying learning about him after he gave you the night of your life.

Well, enjoying was perhaps not the right word for your experience. You were glad he trusted you enough to tell you about the things Cazador had made him do. You were grateful he felt safe enough to be vulnerable with you. But your heart broke every time he told you a little more, his voice low and tired and broken, reciting his past like it was a crime he was ready to be locked up for. And, by gods, how your hatred for Cazador grew.

It wasn’t like you had ever liked the thought of Astarion’s vampiric master. Anyone who had killed this man (who you weren’t quite sure how you felt about but knew you cared for more than anyone else you’d ever known) was evil in your book. But Cazador... Cazador made devils look like saints in your eyes.

You packed up the last remnants of your camp the morning after Astarion had whispered to you about his year encased in stone, slight trembles in his body and growing more violent the longer he'd talked. You'd held him close that night, holding his hand and sliding your fingers through his hair to comfort him. But now you were brooding in the weak morning sun, contemplating which way you'd most like to kill Cazador.

Not that you would—that right was Astarion's, should he wish it. If the time came and he decided he couldn't do it alone, well, then you'd employ one of your many planned strategies to make that bastard suffer for everything he'd done to Astarion and his siblings.

You had decided last night to move on from the place you'd been camped for over a week. You'd been there too long; people had begun to stumble upon your tents, and it was only a matter of time before someone realized Astarion was a vampire or that Gale had a weapon in his chest and decided to try and kill them.

Wyll had gone scouting last night before the sun had set and had reported a town in the distance—near enough to reach before sunset, but only if you got moving as soon as dawn broke. So, you got up early, woke up your grouchy companions, and started breaking down camp. You were on the road less than an hour later.

You walked beside Astarion, both of you weighed down by your packs, your hands swinging beside each other. The backs of your hands kept brushing. You were so distracted by it and the thought that maybe, just maybe, you would take his hand the next time they brushed, that you didn't notice the others watching.

A twinge in your side made you hiss and bring your other arm to it, on the place of an old scar. The pain was a familiar, soft throb—a telling sign that the storm you'd been smelling was getting closer.

"Is your wound still alright?" Shadowheart asked you, shocking you out of your mind, and gesturing to your abdomen. The gash had healed up nicely, little more than some light, pale scarring now, but the phantom pains lingered. They struck at random and had become a cause of concern amongst the entire camp.

You nodded. "It's fine. I haven't felt anything yet. It's just...old wounds acting up."

"Let me know if you need anything," she said, which was a phrase you'd heard at least three times a day since the day you'd gotten the wound. This time, though, she sounded even more worried than normal.

You supposed she had more than enough reason to be worried—this was the first time you'd done this much moving since you'd been injured. You hadn't had to travel or hunt since then, and even your nights with Astarion between your legs kept you on your back with your calves thrown over his shoulders.

Not that Shadowheart knew that, exactly, but she had extracted a promise out of him not to let you do anything that might reopen the wound, which also meant Astarion had refused to let you take him in your mouth, afraid that such a position would be too much for you.

"I'm okay," you promised her, trying to keep the exasperation out of your voice.

You must have failed at doing so, because Astarion whispered a moment later, "She's just trying to keep you safe."

You deflated a little. "I...I know. I'm just...tired of being treated like a glass doll. I'm healed. I can handle myself."

"I know, she's just worried... We're all worried," he added, and you knew that 'we' included himself, a recent development when it came to any kind of emotion.

"I'll be okay," you promised.

"You better be," he said, finally taking your hand in his. Giddiness spread through you like wildfire. Astarion smiled at you and you got the feeling he knew you'd been dying for that to happen. "You're too cute to die on me now."

You rolled your eyes. "Well, I'll try my best."

Astarion looked at you with a fondness that had recently appeared in his eyes; it was a look you loved, one that made your entire body grow warm every time you caught him looking at you like that. You leaned into his side, letting him kiss the top of your head gently. You smiled up at him, ready to thank him for the open display of intimacy.

And then something in his eyes changed, a sparkle in the crimson. A smile twitched on his lips. For a moment, it looked like he might say something—only for his gaze to slide to the others, walking just ahead of you as if they knew to give you privacy. The sparkle to fizzled out.

"What is it?" you asked quietly.

"Walk faster, friends!" Gale called back to you. "The clouds aren't promising, that storm you've been complaining about will be upon us soon!"

"Later," Astarion said to you. "I'll tell you later."

He squeezed your hand and quickened his pace to catch up with the rest of your companions.

~❊~

Mercifully, the long day of traveling wasn't made longer��or more painful—by a fight of any kind, only by the miserable weather. Halfway through the day, the rain had begun in the form of slow, fat raindrops. By now, it was coming down fast and hard, almost painful when it hit your body, even with your many layers of clothing.

Wyll's estimation had been a little generous; the sun, though you couldn't see it, had already set by the time you got close enough to see windows in the buildings of the town, almost every one with a candle glowing on the windowsill.

"Isn't that just quaint," Astarion murmured as the muddy river of a dirt road beneath your feet slowly transitioned into cobblestones covered in at least an inch of water. "Gods, I hope this place has a good tavern."

"I hope it has an open inn," you said. "Everything hurts."

"Your wound?" he asked, frowning and automatically putting a hand on your abdomen.

You shook your head. "No—that's fine. Just my muscles are killing me from all this walking, and old injuries are acting up. It's the storm, I knew it was coming."

Lae'zel frowned. "Are you capable of sensing the weather? Why haven't you used this trick before?"

Shadowheart giggled behind her hand and got control of herself only when the gith's head snapped toward her.

You blinked. "It— I'm not actually able to do that, Lae. It's just that old wounds ache before storms. Lots of people have that. It's...kind of an old wives' tale, I guess?"

"She was right, though," Gale said, squinting up at the sky. His hood fell from his head. "The storm came when she thought it would."

Astarion sidled closer to you, smirking, and curled a hand around your waist. Under his breath, he teased, "Perhaps I...kept you awake too late last night, didn't I? Feeling a little soreness between those lovely legs?"

You rolled your eyes but leaned into his touch. "Don't you start."

The group walked further down the main thoroughfare, slowly spreading across the street, each one looking up at the signs on the buildings. Almost everything was closed: a few tailors' shops, a perfumery, an outdoor food market with empty vendor stalls.

Music drifted from one of the few open storefronts. Warm golden light spilled out onto the cobblestone street through the windows. Raucous laughter joined the jaunty sound of a bard's music. Inside, you could see tables packed with patrons, all singing in various states of drunkenness—and all safe from the storm outside.

Wyll gestured forward. "There's your tavern, Astarion."

Astarion grinned, his fangs flashing in the low light. "Who's up for a drink?"

"Maybe later," you said.

Pointedly, Wyll added, "Once we find an inn and rooms for the night. I'd rather not make camp out here in this damp."

"What, the Blade of Frontier's doesn't know how to rough it through bad weather?" Astarion teased.

"Stop taunting him and let's find an inn," you said, nudging him gently. "I just...want to go to bed, really."

"Alright," Astarion said, that sparkle back in his eyes again. "A good, long night's rest it is, then."

You moved further down the street. Karlach spotted the inn a few doors down and the group filed in through the door, just as thunder clapped overhead. You dragged Astarion into the building with you just before the rain could get worse. The clerk at the desk looked a bit annoyed to see you.

"We don't have enough rooms for all of you," they said, counting the seven of you.

Karlach pulled a face. Before she could say something accidentally indelicate, you pushed to the front of the group.

"How many rooms do you have available?"

"Just three," they said after a quick glance down at the open guestbook in front of them. "And they're not all next to each other."

You glanced back at the others.

"We could take two," Gale suggested. "Split us the old-fashioned way of ladies in one and us gents in another?"

Automatically, your gaze slid to Astarion; both of you appeared to have deflated at the idea of being separated. Wyll, of course, noticed.

"We'll take three and give the third to the lovebirds," he said, teasingly nudging his elbow into Astarion's side. "I don't think I have the heart to separate them."

"I find it agreeable," Lae'zel said with a decisive nod. She turned back to the clerk. "We'll take all three."

"It'll cost you," the clerk warned.

Astarion pulled out a money purse—no doubt stolen the last time you visited a merchant. "We can pay," he promised with that charismatic grin of his that made your stomach do flips.

He moved to the desk, sneakily grabbing your ass and squeezing as he walked by, and counted out the coins for the clerk. They counted it again and stood up only when they were satisfied.

"Come with me," they said. "I'll show you to your rooms."

~❊~

After saying goodnight to the others, escaping their teasing about keeping it down in the night for the sake of your poor neighbors, Astarion held open the door to your room to you. You got inside and glanced around; as far as rooms went, it wasn't awful. It was sparsely furnished and a tad cold, but there was a recently lit hearth and plenty of blankets on the beds. It was on the uppermost floor and you could hear the rain pounding on the roof, a brutal sound that made you agree with Wyll's earlier sentiment about staying out of the weather.

Both of you took off your soaked cloaks and hung them on the hooks next to the door to dry off. You set your stuff down on the ground, pulled the blankets off of one of the beds, and dropped them onto the other.

"Sharing a bed, are we?" Astarion asked with a little giggle, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into the back of your neck.

"Don't act like you don't want to," you said and leaned back into his chest. "I know you, Astari."

He hummed happily into your neck. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed the place where your neck and shoulder met. The nickname always made him happy, often bringing a pleasant blush to his cheeks after he'd fed.

If you had reached that point yet, this would have been the perfect time to say "I love you" and turn to kiss him over your shoulder. But you hadn't said it yet, and he hadn't said it, and you knew it wasn't time yet. You didn't know much, but you knew Astarion wasn't ready for that just yet.

You relaxed into his arms even more, practically melting against him. He planted soft, dainty kisses on your neck and shoulder. "What were you gonna tell me earlier? You had this look in your eye, like you were really excited."

Astarion's grin was audible in his tone as he whispered in your ear, "Your period's gone."

You frowned. "How do you know that and I don't?"

"Your scent's changing. I smelled it this morning, a weak scent of your menstrual blood, nearly gone. We've been traveling so you haven't been able to check recently, but once we got to the town I knew it was gone."

You shook your head. "Smell alone and you already know me better than I know myself."

Astarion scoffed. "Smell alone? Darling, I know your body better than anyone after this past week." His hand drifted down and slid between your legs, cupping you gently. Instantly, warmth flooded you and pooled in your cunt. "I know your shape...your taste...your smell..." He kissed your neck, pressing down on your clit through your clothes. You whimpered lightly. "I know exactly how to make you moan for me and I know what every moan means."

With every ounce of self-restraint you possessed, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Let's get settled in first, Astari. I need to get out of these wet clothes and I really should wash the grime and rain off me before we do anything and—" You stopped suddenly and turned in his arms, resting your hands on his biceps. "I don't have my period anymore."

Astarion blinked at you. "Why do you sound so sad? You've been in pain for the past week! Shouldn't you be glad it's gone?"

"Well, I suppose," you said, shrugging. You toyed with his collar, playing with the fabric between your fingers. "But I...I can't..." You sighed. "You can't feed from me."

His face softened. He gently took hold of your neck, brushing his thumb over the place he usually drank from. "Of course I can still feed from you... It just...takes a bigger tole on you now. Ah." He paused. "I see what you mean now."

You nodded. "It's back to being bloodless, and our fun's done."

Astarion chuckled deeply. "Oh, is that what you're sad about? No more loving little kisses between your legs from your vampire?" He wrapped his hands around your hips, squeezing them and pulling you flush to his body. "We can have a different kind of fun, my love, and it doesn't take your period to convince me to eat you out."

You heard him dimly, but didn't process anything after— "My vampire?"

Something in his face changed. A little bit of the light in his eyes seemed to fade. After a moment, he turned his face away. His body tensed in your arms. "Well, I...I thought that.... M-maybe after..."

You cupped his cheeks and turned him back to you. You kissed him softly, wanting to chase away every ounce of the self-doubt on his face. "I like the sound of that, Astarion." You brought a hand down to clasp his. "As long as I get to be yours, too."

"Darling," he murmured against your lips, seconds before kissing you again. His tongue pressed against your lips and you opened them to let him in. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he moaned softly into your mouth. His relief at your answer slowly relaxed his muscles and made his kiss incredibly tender. You returned his quiet moan with a soft, content sigh into his mouth.

When the kiss broke a few moments later, though it felt like an eternity, you immediately laid your head against Astarion's chest, hugging him tightly. He smoothed his hand over your hair, holding you close to him. He kissed the top of your head in a way that seemed almost domestic for him.

You closed your eyes, settling against his chest. The smell of him and the feel of his body against yours and his hand in your hair was enough to nearly lull you to sleep. And yet...

"I'm in wet clothes, and I'm very tired of being wet—unless it's you making me wet," you said, only half-aware of what you had said until you felt Astarion giggle into your hair.

"You're right, we should change and clean up," he said quietly, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to let go. "Then we can have our fun...and you can get all of me, like I promised you a week ago."

You hummed. "Gods, I'm looking forward to that."

"See? It's not all bad that you're not bleeding anymore," he teased, kissing your cheek.

You finally separated. Astarion dug through his pack until he found his usual shirt and pants. He closed the window's curtains and then you stripped where you stood, peeling the wet clothes off your skin. You walked over to the washroom, aware of Astarion's appreciative gaze on you, and scrubbed the dirt off your skin. You dried yourself off and Astarion joined you. It felt strange to watch your own reflection in the mirror but not see him standing next to you, even though you knew he was next to you, staring at you as he was apt to do.

You kissed his cheek and let your hand rest on his hip as you walked back toward the beds. You bent to rummage through your pack, only for his arms to circle your waist and pull you back up against his chest.

"Oh, darling, you're not going to need clothes for what I have planned," he murmured in your ear. He gently teased the shell of your ear with his teeth. You shuddered in his arms.

"Just jumping straight into it, huh?" you teased.

"I never waste time when I could be spending it with you," he breathed, letting one hand come up to cup your breast. You stumbled backward, sighing contentedly. "You like that, don't you?"

You whimpered. "More... Please darling, I..."

He chuckled and cupped both breasts in his hands. He squeezed them lightly and rested his head on your shoulder, looking down at your cleavage. "Hells, I love these tits, darling. So soft, like all your skin. So sensitive to my touch..."

Astarion began thumbing at your nipples. They perked up at his touch. He rolled them between his fingers, kissing your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. You whimpered under his touch.

"Does that feel good, sweet girl?" he asked, squeezing your tits a little harder. He massaged them in his hands, contentedly watching from his perch on your shoulder.

You nodded, leaning your head against his. After a moment, you asked, breathless but still forming words, "Can you suck on them?"

He moved around to the front of you, grinning happily. "Of course I can, darling." He gently sat you down on the bed's edge and kneeled before you, a beautiful sight. He spread your legs to sit between them and get as close to you as possible, glancing down at your exposed cunt as he did. "Gods, I can't wait to be inside you," he muttered, just seconds before he took one of your nipples in his mouth.

Astarion's mouth was an absolutely wonderful thing. You'd figured that out the first night and for the subsequent week that he was skilled with his lips and tongue, far more skilled than his kisses let on. His mouth around your breast was heavenly as he sucked on your nipple, lightly at first and then slowly adding pressure. You'd be lucky if your tits weren't bruised come morning. His other hand held your breast, kneading your flesh, rolling your nipple in his fingers. The coolness of the skin of his fingers was a relief against your hot skin.

He moaned as he suckled on you. He flicked his tongue over your nipple and then kissed the fat of your breast. You brought your hand up to his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails, and he moaned loudly. You whimpered as his sucking grew to be almost too much. He understood your sound and switched breasts, licking and kissing the one he'd just been groping.

You stared down at the beautiful man happily sucking on your tits: his eyes closed and his long lashes fluttering every so often, his pretty lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking your breast into the heat of his mouth. You carded your fingers through his hair, delighting in the way it curled around your fingers and around his ears.

A sudden idea had you moving your hand down to his ear. You touched it gently and he moaned loudly. You giggled and began lightly caressing his ear. His moans turned into whimpers as you neared the pointed tip. At last he popped off your breast and his head fell against your stomach.

"Oh, gods, darling," he whined. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, that feels... Ohhh, that feels wonderful."

His little moan brought a rush of wetness to your core. You kept playing with his hair, hoping to draw another one of those weak whimpers out of him.

Astarion shuddered into your touch. He was panting heavily and moved shakily, but he still managed to get his hand between your legs. He slid two fingers inside of you with ease.

"Ohhh, sweet girl, you're so wet for me," he breathed. "Can I—?"

"Yes, please," you gasped, knowing instantly what he wanted to do. Your fingers left his ear and he ducked his head between your legs. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit. "More."

Astarion chuckled into your pussy. "Patience, dear." He began to suckle on your clit, the pressure alone enough to make you see stars. Then his tongue flicked over you in the way he'd learned you licked and you fell back against the bed, arching into his mouth. His hands came up to grip your hips and pull you closer to him.

He moved lower and pushed his tongue into your entrance. The two of you moaned in tandem and Astarion's fingers dug into your hip, hard enough to leave bruises come morning.

The sounds of Astarion's slurping became obscene, but you couldn't find it in you to be embarrassed. You only moaned louder as his nose bumped your clit.

Without warning, Astarion slipped his fingers back inside you. You arched into his touch, gasping as his fingers curled inside you.

"Astarion!" you groaned, grinding down on his face and fingers. He chuckled into you.

"That's it, my love, you're close," he murmured, staring into you and watching your walls clench around his fingers. "Just let go for me, you're almost there."

You moaned, writhing as he went back to sucking on your clit. His fingers found the right spot and you covered your mouth with a hand to muffle the near-scream that came out of you—a sound you had no idea you could even make.

"No, no, no," Astarion chided, fixing you with a look. "Don't you muffle those sounds. I want to hear you scream for me, darling."

You whimpered. You panted as your orgasm slowly crept up on you. Your hips stuttered and lifted off the bed—Astarion took advantage and slipped his arm underneath you, dragging you back to him and pressing his mouth back to your clit. He kissed it gingerly, occasionally flicking his tongue over it in the circles you liked so much. Sometimes it amazed you how well he remembered your body and your likes, even if you'd only told him once.

"Astari," you whined, the tight ball in your core very close to snapping.

"I've got you," he whispered. "Come on, sweet girl, it's alright. Cum for me. Cum on my face, darling. I want it. I want to taste you. That's it, that's it, that's it!"

You finished with a loud cry, your back arching, Astarion moaning into your cunt and his tongue lapping quickly to catch every drop of your release. He kept curling his fingers even as your walls tightened to the point of being difficult to move them.

Astarion leaned back, grinning up at you. His face shone; it was almost weird not to see blood on his face. He looked back down at your pussy, staring eagerly, licking your cum off of his lips. "You're so wet, darling. Gods, you'll be a tight fit, but I could slide in right now if I wanted to..."

You nodded very quickly, whimpering. "Please, Astarion, please, I want you to."

He raised an elegant brow at you. "Oh, do you, now?" You nodded, whining. "Say it, darling."

Your body twisted in a way that seemed impossible as you said, a tremendous blush on your face which you were trying to hide in the bed, "I want you to fuck me, Astarion."

He grinned toothily, his fangs shining. A deep sound that neared a growl emanated from his chest. "Again. Say it again, louder."

"Fuck me, Astari," you whined, a little louder than the first time.

Something in Astarion snapped. He pulled you back onto your feet and flush to his body, kissing you fiercely. It was almost harsh, his fangs nicking your lips. You hissed and Astarion pulled back. The desire—a mix of bloodlust and arousal—was clear in his eyes, but he paused to ask, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," you promised. "It's not like you haven't nicked me in more sensitive places."

"And you like it, every time," he teased, briefly kissing your forehead. He wiped away a small dot of blood on your lips with his thumb and licked it off.

You smiled at him. "What can I say, you've given me quite the biting kink."

Astarion chuckled. "Cheeky little pup," he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. "Ready to continue?"

You nodded, unable to stop the happy grin that overtook your face at the idea of him finally taking you. A thrill ran down your spine as Astarion laid you back on the bed and crawled up to you, kissing you harshly. You were dimly aware of him pumping his cock between you.

He pulled away suddenly, glancing down his body. "Shit."

You frowned, trying to catch his eye again. "Darling? What's wrong?"

Astarion sighed. "In my...excitement, I may have forgotten a very important detail." He looked down at himself and you sat up and followed his gaze. His cock was half-hard, but not nearly enough to slide into you. You whispered a quiet "oh." In his embarrassment, Astarion refused to meet your gaze. He looked much smaller, like he'd curled up into himself. "Unimpressive, huh?"

The half-disguised anger and humiliation in his voice made your heart ache. You cupped his face, turning his face toward you. You kissed him softly. "Oh, Astarion... No, you're not. You are impressive, you're just not quite ready yet. You forget I've seen you before, fully hard after you feed."

"I think you're missing the point," he said weakly. He pulled his legs up to his chest, effectively hiding himself. "I can't fuck you like this, darling."

"You can once you've had some blood, but that's beside the point." You kissed his cheek, rubbing a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch. "You're more than just sex, Astarion. Damn good sex, sure, but that's not all you are, no matter what anybody else—and especially your master—told you."

He turned to you, a strange look in his eyes. You took his hand, raised it to your mouth, and kissed the back of his hand. He leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder.

"This is the second time you've had to say this, something like this, to me during sex," he said with a humorless giggle, a shadow of his usual one.

"And I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it," you promised, kissing the top of his head.

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he just blinked until the teary glaze in his eyes went away. "Thank you," he whispered, and he adjusted to kiss the spot on your neck he always drank from. He lightly scraped his teeth against your skin. "Do you want to do this?"

You hummed, leaning into his affection. "Yes, sweetheart. I want this. I want you. I want you very, very badly."

He smiled. "Lay on your side, darling. Let me lay behind you."

You did as he asked, relaxing into his hold and letting him manhandle you into the position he wanted. He pulled you flush against his body, his length pressing into you, his arm around your waist and holding you against him as if he was afraid you'd try to escape the moment he bit you. With his free hand, he brushed your hair off your neck.

"Are you ready, darling?" he whispered, dragging his teeth across the shell of your ear.

You nodded. "Mhm."

"Just relax for me," he breathed. He nuzzled into your neck and kissed the spot he was going to bite. "Right here? Your favorite spot?"

"Right there," you whispered. You put your hand over his and both of you (you weren't sure who moved first) twined your fingers together. He squeezed your hand gently before he sank his teeth into your neck.

Quiet filled the room, except for the rain on the roof, your steady breathing (only steady for now), and Astarion's sucking.

It had been just over a week since he'd fed from you this way, and the sensation was just as alien as it had been that first night you'd let him drink—two tiny shards of ice, the cold numbness spreading slowly through the surrounding area, preventing you from feeling any pain in his bite. Slowly, you acclimated to the sensation and it faded into a dull, throbbing pleasure.

He slid his free hand under your head, holding your head up and your neck steady. He gently scratched your scalp.

"Astarion," you moaned, squeezing his hand. He grunted, continuing his sucking. You focused less on the sound of it—which reminded you vaguely of sucking juice out of a dripping fruit—and more of the feeling of his body against you. "Enjoy this, sweetheart. Please, just for me."

He cuddled closer to you, humming, and you smiled as he let go of your hand to briefly squeeze your hip. Your smile widened when he took your hand in his again as quickly as he possibly could.

It didn't take long for Astarion to start getting into it. He began whimpering softly, so unrestrained you were certain he had no idea he was doing it. Slowly, his hips began rolling against you, gentle motions at first that grew more noticeable and more desperate the longer he drank.

His teeth still in your neck, Astarion began grinding his hardened length into the swell of your ass. His whimpers became moans and then animalistic grunts. He drank in time with every thrust against you and slowly you were reduced to those two sensations.

Throbbing overtook you. Your head was pounding, just slight enough for it to be ignored, and need pulsed in your cunt. You could feel your juices coating your thighs and the dull throbbing in your clit. But the rest of your body was growing pleasantly numb. Your extremities began to tingle.

Astarion's gulps slowed down and his thrusting became feral. You moaned once, very loudly, as his cock slid briefly between your legs and rubbed against your pussy. Your moan spurred him on and he adjusted to keep grinding himself on your thigh.

A few more swallows of blood was all it took for the edges of your vision to get blurry. Your eyes fluttered shut; you didn't have the strength to open them again. You could no longer feel your fingers and you were only partially aware of your hand slipping out of his. But Astarion was incredibly aware of it; he stopped drinking and twisted around you to lay in front of you to check on you.

Your head dropped to the mattress without Astarion's hand holding you up. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook you and you groaned quietly.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me," he said, cupping your cheek. You opened your eyes. "There's my girl. How are you doing? Feel okay? Did I take too much?"

"Slow down on the questions," you said, "and hold me."

He chuckled and scooted closer, pulling you into his arms. He kissed the top of your head. "But are you okay?"

You nodded. "Give me a minute and I'll be right as rain."

He giggled. "Right as rain..."

You rolled your eyes. "What can I say, the storm's got me thinking." You tucked yourself into his arms, your lips against his chest. You kissed his skin softly. He hummed happily and you continued, nipping at his skin. Now that he'd fed, bruises started to form under your lips.

"I'm okay now," you said after a few moments. The throbbing in your head had eased up and you no longer felt like you were about to pass out.

"Not dizzy anymore?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I'm alright."

He smiled at you; gods, that smile was gorgeous. "Well, now, dear. Let me return the favor..."

You blinked at him. "Favor—? Oh!"

Astarion's mouth was back on your breasts, this time leaving hickeys all over your skin—and tiny, bloody pinpricks from his fangs—that matched the bruises you'd left on him. You whined, gripping his hair tightly.

He grinned against your skin. "Oh, darling—I know. I know you want me. Your body and I have kept you waiting long enough, haven't we?"

You put your hand on his chest. "Wait, darling. Let me..." You slid down his body and gripped his cock in your hand. He groaned loudly, bucking his hips into your hand.

"Oh, darling, that feels..." He moaned. "Gods."

"It's about to get better, if you'd like?" you asked. You kissed his thigh. "Do you want me to?"

Something in his face changed, his features softening. You fancied that you could see some of his walls come down in his eyes, but you chalked it up to your hopeful imagination. But then he was nodding and whispering, "Yes."

You kissed around his base, watching him shudder every time your lips touched his skin. You locked eyes with him and pressed your lips to his base. He whined, high and needy, throwing his head back. You smiled; you'd never heard him make that sound before, but I wanted to hear it again.

You moved up to kiss his tip. A groan came from the back of his throat. You gave his head a small lick and watched his entire body shudder with pleasure.

"Ready?" you asked him, placing another kiss to his length.

"Yes," he breathed, looking down at you. "Yes."

You licked the underside of his cock, from base to head, then took his head in your mouth and sucked lightly. He whined the entire time, growing steadily louder until he was moaning. You took him deeper and he threw his head back again, swallowing harshly. Gods, he's so pretty when he's losing control... You reached up and took his hand, squeezing gently.

He bucked his hips into your mouth. You made a soft sound of slight complaint, surprised by the motion. "S-sorry," he breathed, his chest heaving. His voice was tight, the muscles of his abdomen tight. "You just... Gods, you're good at this. You are...amazing."

You squeezed his hand until he looked down at you, your question was in your eyes: are you alright?

"Keep going," he urged. "I'm— I'm more than alright, darling."

You sank down further until he hit the back of your throat. You moaned to feel him twitch in your mouth; you weren't expecting the breathy gasp that came from him. You did it again and his hand left yours to thread through your hair, putting the slightest amount of pressure on you.

"Is this okay?" he asked shakily, struggling to get the words out through his heavy breaths.

You winked at him and he groaned, the sound feral. He held onto your hair for dear life and you kept sucking, licking the underside of his cock every chance you could. Occasionally, he bucked his hips desperately, alternating between gasping for breath and whimpering your name between moans that verged on sobs.

Astarion jerked his hips, his cock kicking up. You took advantage to swirl your tongue around his tip, tasing his pre-cum. He leaned up on his forearms and you saw the tears on his waterline. Concerned flooded through you. His face was relaxed into an expression of pure ecstasy, but...

You pulled off of him. "Astarion? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

His chest heaved, glistening with sweat, while he gasped for breath. "I— I'm okay. You're wonderful, darling, absolutely..." He beckoned you up to him with two fingers, that dominant look back in his eye. You did as he ordered without question. "Come here. As much as I love this, I need to fuck you."

You whined. "Astari, please. Please. Please, I want you."

"Look at you, begging for me," he cooed, his hand sliding between your legs. He rubbed your clit and you arched into his touch, moaning wantonly. "There she is. That's it, darling, just feel good for me."

You leaned into his chest. "Astarion! I need you. I need you to fuck me, please, gods."

Astarion chuckled and pulled his hand away from you. He gently laid you on your back and crawled over you. He kissed you deeply before sitting back and lining himself up with your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. Anticipation and excitement mixed in your stomach.

Astarion placed the head of his cock against you and then looked up at you. His face was fond as he met your gaze. "Are you ready for me, darling?"

"Yes," you breathed. "I— Oh, gods, yes!"

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispered. He kissed your forehead briefly.

You watched him move, slowly bucking his hips forward to push his cock inside of you. His eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. You forced yourself to remember to breathe as he bottomed out, your walls stretching to accommodate him; he finally let out a deep groan from the back of his throat.

"Darling," he moaned, leaning down to you. You reached up, putting your hand in his hair, and brought his head down to you. Once again, you weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours.

It was a gentle kiss that was fitting for his slow, shallow thrusts. The two of you panted into each other. He put his forehead against yours, glancing down and watching him slide in and out of you, whispering in Elvish at the sight.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Astarion... Oh, gods..."

"You feel so good," he groaned. "Darling, I— Ohhh, sweet girl." He bent down to lick the small blood spots off your breasts. He moaned sweetly. "You taste even better when I'm inside you, my love. You taste sweet—like a delectable wine."

You whimpered. "I don't mean to deprive you of my blood, dear, but please please kiss me."

He chuckled and kissed his way up your neck, stopping briefly to lick your already-closing puncture wounds, before he kissed your lips. His mouth tasted vaguely of iron.

Your walls tightened around him. He was rubbing inside of you in just the right ways, hitting pleasure spots that his fingers had already made tender. His thrusts were still gentle, not enough to make you see stars but enough to make your entire body relax and give in to the pleasure.

"You're wonderful, darling," he murmured. He reached up to roll your nipple in his fingers. "You feel so perfect around me. So tight...so wet...so eager... Gods, darling, yes, just clench around me like that."

You threw your head back and he immediately descended on it, kissing and licking and nipping at your skin. You could feel the bruises that you would find in the morning.

"Faster," you told him. "I can take more than this, Astari."

He grinned and you were moaning seconds later as he sped up, his hips snapping into you.

"Can you take it harder? Deeper?" he asked. "You have no idea how hard it is not to ravish you, darling."

You cupped his chin and brought him back up to your face. You kissed him hard, more tongues and teeth than anything. You met his gaze and whispered, "Then ravish me."

Astarion pushed his lips back to yours, grunting animalistically, and slammed his cock into you. You cried out, clinging to him desperately as he fucked you relentlessly, his hips snapping against yours, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust. The head of his cock kissed your cervix every time, making your entire body shudder. You began meeting his thrusts and he chuckled, one hand gripping your hip to help keep you up.

You threw your legs around his hips and both of you groaned at the new angle. Astarion muttered to himself in Elvish, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You kissed him, bringing him back to you. He smiled, kissing your forehead.

"Aren't you gorgeous?" he whispered to you, staring deep into your eyes. There was an alertness there that you hadn't noticed the first time he'd fucked you like this, out in the woods that night.

You reached up to cup his cheek. "You're quite handsome like this, Astarion," you murmured. "You always are."

He smiled softly at you and turned to kiss your palm, his hips stuttering for a moment. He grunted and pushed deeper into you, making you cry out again. He glanced down your bodies and watched the two of you thrust into each other.

"Gods, that's a pretty view," he murmured, his voice breathy. "Your slick shining on my dick...and, oh, look at that... The outline of my cock in your tummy. Gods, that's hot." He placed his hand on your lower abdomen where the bulge was and he pressed down. You whined, clenching your teeth and trying not to scream. He, of course, noticed. "Oh, that feels good, does it?"

You whimpered out a weak, "Yes!" He grinned and began pressing down on every stroke into you.

You gripped his shoulder, your nails digging in; you knew there would be scratches on his back and shoulders come morning and you were careful to avoid his scar, knowing just how painful that would be if scratched.

He kept losing his rhythm every so often and you knew he was getting close; thankfully, so were you.

"I'm close," you whispered. "I'm so close, darling."

On the next thrust in, he adjusted the hand pushing down on your abdomen so that his thumb could circle around your clit. "Does this help?"

You whined, nodding frantically. "Oh, Astari— Don't stop, please don't stop, I—" Your words faded into moans. He giggled.

"Don't worry, darling, I don't intend on stopping until you've finished around my cock," he whispered in your ear. Your entire body shuddered.

Astarion's thrusts grew a bit sloppier, but his thumb on your clit remained dedicated to making you cum. You were half-convinced the way he spoke as he gazed down at you adoringly would be enough even without the cock thrusting into you or the thumb stimulating you.

"Gods, look at you," he murmured. "Look at that body, responding to me so eagerly! Those beautiful breasts, perky nipples, all covered in my bite marks... That lovely neck, marked and still just barely bleeding..." He bent to lick the thin trail of blood. "These legs, wrapped around my waist, and that pussy just sucking me in." He brushed your hair out of your eyes. "And I could never forget this darling face, those beautiful eyes just staring up at me like I hung the moon and stars..." He pressed his forehead to yours. Softly, he said, "Come on, darling, cum for me. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you clench around me and lose yourself in me."

The thread inside you snapped. You arched off the bed and into his body. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you to him, whispering words of encouragement. You screamed as you came, clenching so hard around him it was a miracle he kept fucking you through it. He pulled his hand off your clit as soon as the feeling became too much, reading your body with ease.

"That's it," he whispered to you. "That's my girl. Easy, darling, breathe. You did so well. Do you mind if I—" He groaned, hips faltering for a moment. "Do you mind if I cum inside you?"

You whined. "Oh, gods, yes, please do! Cum inside me, Astarion, cum inside me, I want it!"

He moaned happily, kissing your neck fervently. He began rambling. "Hells, darling, you spoil me. Feeding me with your bleeding cunt for a week? Taking my cum the moment it's over? You needy, heavenly little thing." He kissed his way up to your jaw. You put your fingers in his hair. "Oh, you're so wet now, sweet girl. You've soaked me. You look so pretty around me. Oh, gods, you're so much tighter now— I'm not going to last much longer, dear. You're good, you're too good. My love, oh my love!" He lost his rhythm entirely, fucking you only with the need to cum. "I love this. I love every bit of this. I love—"

He cut himself off. He cried out, burying his face in your neck and his cock in your cunt. Warmth flooded you as he spilled himself deep inside you. His hips stuttered and flexed a few more times, his cock twitching inside you, before he finally let out a long breath and collapsed on top of you. Immediately, your arms wrapped around him and you held him tight to your chest.

As the two of you lay panting together, your mind was working on overdrive. He hadn't said it, but you'd heard what he wanted to say: I love you. The very same words you were dying to say.

At last, Astarion lifted his head. "Are you alright?" he asked. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You combed your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered. "Not one bit, darling. I'm perfectly fine." You kissed his nose and he giggled. You stared at him, your beautiful boy, for a moment, enjoying the feelign of his body actually being warm against yours for once, before you asked, "What about you? Are you feeling alright? Good, even?"

Astarion giggled. "Don't sell yourself short, my love, you're absolutely wonderful. I feel amazing. Content. Cared for. Loved." With every word, his voice got smaller, quieter. He seemed to retract into himself. You frowned.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," you whispered.

He looked back up at you and the tears were back in his eyes, but this time you doubted they were tears of pleasure. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to..." He sighed. "I didn't mean to disappear on you. It's just...I'm used to that. I'm used to disappearing during sex, after sex... But I didn't do that this time. It was...different with you. It was nice. You've cared for me like no one else ever has. You...you paid attention to what I wanted, how I felt, what I liked. You weren't just using me for your own pleasure. I... It was like...you cared about me. I don't even know what to say! But, ah, you made me feel good, in a lot of ways. So... Thank you, darling."

You cupped his face and kissed him softly. "Of course I care about you, Astarion, I— I...love you."

He tensed up in your arms. A flash of panic passed through his eyes. You shook your head quickly.

"You don't have to say it back," you said hurriedly. "Not until you're ready. But I want you to know exactly how I feel about you. And...I love you."

He smiled and relaxed, melting into your embrace. "Thank you, my love. I...I'm not ready, not quite yet, but...thank you for respecting that. Here—let me cuddle you, I know how much you like that."

The two of you adjusted so that you could lay on your sides. You curled up in his arms and nestled your head into his neck. He carded his fingers through your hair, a gentle movement that was well on its way to lulling you to sleep. You reluctantly pulled yourself away, and only because you had adjusted and suddenly felt the cooling, sticky liquid between your thighs.

"We should get cleaned up," you murmured.

Astarion hummed. "Oh, yes, let me—" He reached for his shirt on the floor and brought it up to himself.

"No, no," you said. "Let me do it."

You took a towel and dampened it in the bowl of lukewarm water on the nightstand—probably there for this exact purpose. You squeezed the excess water out and gently wiped your mixed, drying releases from Astarion's thighs, abdomen, and cock. He sighed softly, relaxing as you cleaned him off.

"No one's ever done this for you before, have they?" you asked. He shook his head. You kissed him softly. "Get used to it, darling, because I intend to do this for you every time."

He grinned, a pleasant blush on his cheeks. "I could get used to this." He took the towel away from you. "Here, let me do it for you."

You laid back and let him slid between your legs. He groaned softly. "Oh, my sweet girl, you look so delicious with my cum dripping out of you."

You blushed fiercely, groaning. "Stop talking like that, or I'm going to demand we go again."

He perked up. "I'm up for a second round—if you can handle it, that is," he added with a cheeky grin.

You considered it for a moment while he wiped your thighs and entrance clean. "Give me an hour and maybe we can."

Astarion smiled and placed a dainty kiss just above your clit. "That's my girl." He laid back down beside you and pulled you into his arms. "Get some rest now, darling, you need it after today."

You wrapped your arms around him and rested your cheek against his chest. "Thank you, Astarion. For everything."

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, stroking your hair. "You're welcome, my love."

~❊~

You were ready to leave the next morning, and you and Astarion met the others in front of the clerk's desk on the first floor of the inn. Astarion handed back the key while you limped over to the group.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion had left you with quite the limp, even more severe than the first time he'd eaten you out at camp. Karlach didn't even try to contain her laughter at the sight of you.

"So you did fuck her last night!" she said to Astarion as he joined you. You blushed heavily. "We had no idea, couldn't hear a thing!"

Astarion raised an eyebrow, then looked at you with a grin. "They couldn't hear us, even with all the noise you made? We're getting a room at an inn every chance we can get from now on!"

"Not so fast," Gale said quickly, "they might not have heard you, but Wyll and I did!"

You squeaked. "You did?"

Wyll nodded, somewhat amused and somewhat apologetic. "You made noises I didn't think were possible. Or meant pleasure."

You turned immediately to Astarion, who was grinning like a cat, and buried your face in his chest. "Hide me."

"It's alright, darling," he whispered to you. "Gale and Wyll were across the hall from us. Next time, we'll just get a room as far away from the others as possible and I'll make you scream into the wee hours of the morning."

You blushed very brightly and the others groaned.

"Don't break her," Shadowheart chided. "Is your wound—"

"It's fine!" both you and Astarion said before she could continue.

"She's all healed up, no more scarring," Astarion promised. "Believe me, I wouldn't have gone as hard as I did if I thought she would get hurt by it."

"Okay, that's enough!" Gale said quickly. "Let's leave, please, and keep going. We've got important business to attend to!"

As you left the inn, Astarion took your hand and kissed the top of your head. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you? That limp's quite noticeable, dear."

"I'm fine," you promised. "You were quite good last night."

"Good. I'd be inconsolable if I had hurt you," he said. He brush your hair behind you ear. "I mean that, you know."

You leaned into his side and kissed his cheek. "I know, darling. And thank you. Now, come on, help me walk. It will be your fault if I fall."

He snorted. "Because I have you a good orgasm? No, wait, how many did it end up being last night? Two the first time...then another three?"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, stop bragging! Come on, Gale's right: we've got work to do."

Astarion kissed you one last time, then pulled you against his side and followed the others out of the village.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind

[kjthenbee]

The more I think about the Nandermo interview scene at the end of S6E3, the more I realize just how significant that entire scene is for Nandor as a character.

These first three episodes have told us multiple times that Nandor is not the person he used to be - he is no longer a purely violent, apathetic, selfish man (though he obviously retains some of those qualities). He's changed - he's softer. And Guillermo is the reason for this change.

We've seen how Nandor used to treat Guillermo early on in the series. I can imagine that when little 19yo Guillermo first came to him, Nandor was dismissive, thinking of him as nothing more than another familiar that he was going to string along for years - and, of course, bright-eyed young Guillermo, who was willing to do whatever it took to become a vampire, wouldn't have cared how he was treated.

But now, 15 some years later, everything is different. Guillermo isn't his familiar anymore. They aren't bound by the power imbalance of that relationship any longer. Guillermo has become someone important to Nandor, possibly more important than anyone has ever been before. No matter how much shit they've gone through, or how much Nandor has fucked things up, Guillermo has always stayed, and he has always cared. Even when he does leave, he never stays gone for long. Nandor has never experienced this type of a relationship with someone before - a relationship with someone who loves and cares for him unconditionally.

In the interview scene, Nandor totally could have messed with Guillermo, could have just... not taken him seriously. He could have done the interview in the main room with all the other vampires and had a laugh about the whole thing, but he didn't. He specifically took Guillermo to a private room to conduct the "interview". And the entire time, he treated it with the utmost sincerity- and you can see it in the way he looks at Guillermo with such attentiveness, such fondness. He lets him talk, and just listens. When Guillermo talks about not having many friends as a child, Nandor sympathizes and tells him that that must have been hard even if he himself does not know what this is like. He smiles with him, and laughs with him.

On top of all of this, Nandor very much could have left Guillermo hypnotized - he could have had his former meek, obedient familiar back by his side. The Nandor from just a couple of seasons ago might have done just that. But now, he's learned. He knows that he can't do that to Guillermo. He can't do that to someone he genuinely loves cares about deeply. The Guillermo that he knows now - confident, competent, and sure of himself - is the Guillermo he loves. Nandor does not want to take that away from him for his own selfish reasons. So, he just lets himself have one thing: Guillermo can sleep under the stairs one last time, then he'll unhypnotize him, and things will be back to the way they were - with them at a distance. But at least Guillermo will be himself.

Soooo yeah. I really hope that this is not just fanservice or whatever and that the writers are actually setting something up between them this time. I want so badly to believe that we might actually get some payoff to this 5 season long will-they-won't-they setup. I mean, seriously - what do the writers have to lose with this being the final season?

I'm trying not to keep my expectations too high just because of how many times we've been burned in the past, but this scene (along with the shed scene where Nandor was still talking like Nixon lmao) have gotten me hopeful again...

So here I am, back in Nandermo hell, one last time...

[kittenlittle24]

Chokehold

Request: f!reader is part of the diagnostics team and one day, they realized that one of the cases they were handling involved a physically abusive parent, which started the patient’s condition. Reader went to confront the parent, which in turn made the parent attack her, and then Dr. House saw this and came in to save her. and then some fluff? and yes, house and f!reader is secretly in love with house @schnitzelbutterfingers

a/n: I based it on s2 e13 but also changed it to fit the request better, I apologize it’s short I had a real writing block.

Btw, gifs aren’t mine! Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

“A 15-year-old model was given by her father before taking the stage at a big fashion show. After walking out, she gets into a violent confrontation with another model, then collapses on the runway.” Cameron presents.

“The tox screen shows she has been taking heroin.”

House ordered a rapid detox procedure thinking the drugs are masking another disease and that we don't have time to wait four weeks to find out. Formen and Chase explained the risks to her father, who agreed to the procedure. They put the patient into an induced coma. She later went into cardiac arrest, of course, they revived her. They explained to the father that if they bring her out of the coma before the detox is over, she will be in extreme pain.

When the girl came out of the coma, she showed signs of short-term memory loss, which House diagnosed as PTSD as the result of sexual abuse from her father.

Cameron of course went straight to Cuddy who called child services, however, you were the lucky one to be cornered by the dad.

“You called child services on me?! I do everything for her! She’s my daughter!”

Slowly you tried to walk away as you denied till your back hit the wall, then you knew you were screwed. He was so close to you, that you smelled his breath and felt his spit splattered on your face as he continued to yell, you hoped one of the nurses would come by already and call security but the next thing you knew he had his hand around your throat, grasping his wrist you tried to move it away, the tears in your eyes blocked your sight, your chest starting to hurt.

He stopped as quickly as he started and fell to the floor. Falling to your knees as well you looked up to see House standing behind him, his cane raised.

“What did you do?” You rasped out.

“He was choking you!” He argued as he helped you up and the security guards lifted the assaulting man.

He took you to his office where he examined you.

He lifted your chin gently and looked at your neck where you already started to bruise.

“Might want to wear a turtleneck,”

You nodded, “Why did you come to check on me? You were supposed to be in the clinic and you never visit patients.”

“Teen model? The perfect excuse to avoid clinic.”

Grasping his arm, “House.”

“I had a bad feeling about the dad, I had to make sure you were safe,” he whispered.

Stepping closer to him, “You were worried about me.”

He nodded once.

Stand on your tip toes, you cupped his cheeks and leaned forward, slowly placing your soft lips on his, giving him plenty of time to stop you.

Instead of stopping you, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer.

[magicaldestinyharmony]

In Life and in Death Pt. 2

male!knight x female!count's daughter!reader part 2

CW: mentions of death, blood and self-harm

WC: 1.6k words

A/N: part 2 is here! I'm planning to make this a short series though I'm not sure how long it will be. Anyways, enjoy!

[Part 1] [Part 3] [Part 4]

You sit up suddenly and gasp. You blink at the sudden brightness. It appears to be morning. 

Taking a look around you, you realize that you’re in your room. At first, you were confused. How did you get on your bed? Didn't you die? Then it hits you. The Returner's Stone must have worked! 

Immediately, you turn to your bedside table and pick up the blue calendar you got as a gift. It's true! The Returner's Stone wasn't a legend after all. 

You take note of the day. It's 10 years in the past. You sigh in relief. Crisis avoided successfully. You smile and decide to reward yourself with 10 minutes of extra sleep before getting up for breakfast.

“Miss! My lady!” Violent knocking at your door rouses you from sleep. “My lady, are you still sleeping? You have to get up! Count Balcom will be arriving shortly!”

The door creaks open and you sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Your maid, Aida, enters. “Oh good, you're up. Come let's get you ready to receive the count.”

“Wait, what about breakfast?” you drowsily ask, still a little sleepy.

“You overslept, miss! There's no time for that!” says your ever-helpful maid as she drags you to take a bath.

You suck up more protests and let Aida continue the familiar yet tedious steps to making you look presentable. 

3 dresses, 2 hairstyles and 6 accessories later, Aida deems the chosen dress, hairstyle and accessories passable. “Ta-da! What do you think, my lady?”

You glance in the mirror only to find a girl dressed in blue staring back at you. Your hair was styled immaculately with beautiful accessories decorating it. You smile. “Thanks, Aida. I can always count on you.”

Your only faithful maid grins, looking very proud of herself. She starts going on and on about how naturally beautiful you look and that she only enhanced your natural beauty, but you stop listening to her. 

You are truly thankful for Aida’s presence. As the fifth daughter, you had little to no influence. Not many maids wanted to side with you as that job came with little benefits. Only Aida remained, ever faithful.

“Oh my, miss! We must hurry! Count Balcom should be arriving soon!” Aida pushes you out the door and you let her, albeit reluctantly. 

You never really liked your father. Not only did he give off the aura of a ravenous beast, but his disregard for the law and basic human rights weren't exactly the best combination for a great father. 

As soon as you make it off the threshold of the stairs, the butler announces your father's arrival, “Count Balcom has arrived!”

You curtsy in greeting of the man who sired you and stand up. What you don't expect is to find grey eyes instead of black ones staring back at you. You frown in confusion.

Once you look up, you receive your answer. You find your father standing a little behind the boy, talking to the butler. This must be the day Lucca arrived at this gloomy mansion.

Your father nods, then loudly proclaims, “Hey, you!” He points to one of the maids. “Take the boy to the dungeons.”

The maid nods and immediately does as she's told, lest she incurs the wrath of the count. She drags Lucca away in the direction of the dungeons. 

And you? Well, you stand there, dazed, and watch as things happen exactly as you remember them.

◇◇◇

The sun has long set, but you remain awake staring at the dark ceiling of your bedroom. Lucca's unexpected appearance rattled you. Although, now that you think about it, this is the day Lucca entered this house and sealed your death warrant by association. 

You sigh. The relief you felt this morning didn't last long. How will you get out of this predicament? Maybe, if you appeal to his emotions long enough, he'll spare you? Doing something is better than doing nothing. 

You get up, resolved to your fate. You gather up some ointment and some bandages, to treat Lucca if needed. After you get your hand on some food, you sneak to the dungeons. You reach the cell where Lucca is held, successfully completing your stealth mission.

“My lady? What are you doing here?” You jump at the sudden question.

Turning around, you see the stern face of the prison guard. How did you forget about the guards?! 

The guard stands there waiting for your response, “Um, I wanted to see the boy?” You try your luck with the truth.

“You cannot, my lady. Please head back to your room. If Count Balcom catches you here, you might not escape punishment.”

How do you get this guard to cooperate? Taking off your sapphire bracelet, you hope bribery will work its magic. “Here, sir, have this. You should be rewarded for having to work the night shift,” you say and hand the guard your bracelet.

“Oh my, my lady! You are so generous!” The guard takes the bracelet, touched.

“You never saw me here, though, right?” you say, placing your finger on your lips.

“Yes, my lady! Of course, my lady!” The guard bows and you fear that his head might touch the floor.

“Just unlock the door,” you remark, not used to the sudden sincerity. 

“Right away, my lady!” The guard unlocks the door, gesturing for you to head in.

You sigh and enter the cell. Your face contorts at the smell of mould and blood. Once your gaze lands on Lucca you gasp. He's splayed on the floor, seemingly unconscious, with wounds and bruises littered all over his body.

“Oh, no,” you whisper. 

The sight makes you shudder. You brush your fingertips over a big purplish bruise forming on his shoulder. He must be in a lot of pain. Opening the ointment, you immediately get to work, treating his wounds.

There are so many. Bruise after bruise, cut after cut and lots of blood. You treat as much of Lucca's wounds as you can. 

After applying some ointment on an especially deep gash, Lucca hisses. He must've come to.

Subconsciously, you retract your hands and glance at his face. He blinks and stares up at you.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “I tried to be as gentle as possible. I'm sorry if it hurts.”

The boy eyes you in silence. “Here, I got you some food.” You rummage in your bag for the bread you were able to take from the kitchen.

There was no reaction from Lucca—only more silence. Awkwardness creeps in, so you place the bread under a handkerchief in front of him. 

He blinks. Once, twice, three times.

What's wrong with him? Does he think there's something wrong with the bread? “Don't worry! I didn't do anything to the bread. It's not poisoned or anything,” you try to reassure him, though you're not sure if it's working.

You sigh. There's no getting through to him right now. “Alright. I'll leave you alone.” You get up and dust yourself off. “I'll come back tomorrow to heal your wounds and get you some food!”

You leave the cell hoping that if you keep coming back every day until he leaves, he'll spare you when he comes back 10 years later.

You were wrong. So wrong. Lucca came back and killed you anyway. You woke up surprised to find yourself in the past again. This time you'll leave as soon as possible!

You still go down every night into the depths of the cold dungeons to check on Lucca and he still acts indifferent towards you.

This time, however, instead of sitting on your hands in that dreadful estate, you leave the empire as soon as you turn 18. 

Sad to say, Lucca still managed to find you and end your short life.

Imagine your surprise when you're met with the ceiling of your bedroom when you open your eyes in the past for the fourth time.

You sigh. This time, you resolve to abandon the Balcom name.

Helping Lucca at night became a habit. Before you go to sleep, you stop by the basement to take care of him.

Once you had your debutante ball, you busy yourself with finding a suitable marriage partner. You end up getting married to a countryside baron, hoping the distance from the capital will keep Lucca off your back.

Yet, your plan fails. Again. Apparently, Lucca doesn't consider your marriage an abandonment of the Balcom family.

Once your eyes drift open to your sunlit ceiling again, you've had enough. It's like all reason left your mind. 

As soon as your father arrives, you're in his office asking to find a way to drain your blood safely. 

No. You didn't ask him. You demanded to know. Your father frowns at you in displeasure while you stand there mumbling to yourself that this has to end.

Your father shakes his head, clearly thinking that you've lost your mind. He orders you to be moved to the Southern Balcom Villa under the guise of recuperating. But you know the truth. You've been deemed unuseful and tossed aside.

Not that you really care. You pore over thousands of books trying to get the Balcom blood out of you. Your body ends up covered in scars, still-healing wounds and unhealed cuts.

Yet you don't stop. Crazily obsessed and focused on the condition Lucca stated to spare you. You were found multiple times on the floor in a pool of the red liquid.

In the end, the maids reporting back to your father, chain you to your bed, successfully keeping you from inflicting more harm on yourself.

Once Lucca's dreaded arrival comes, you barely even register his presence. You're sick and tired of this vicious cycle. Death, life, death, life, death, life, on and on and on. 

When Lucca's sword eventually cuts you down, you hope with all your might that you won't be met with the mocking sight of your ceiling again.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Whole Again

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You're injured during a raid, but your boyfriend Luca doesn't know how bad it is. After you're separated and instructed not to speak, your team finds a way to let you comfort one another.

Warnings: angst, r is shot, a civilian is killed during a raid, fluffy comfort!

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“One more thing,” Hondo says as you approach the raid location in Black Betty.

“He’s going to hear us coming at this rate, Hondo,” you complain playfully.

“Maybe you can just talk until he surrenders,” Street agrees. “It wouldn’t take long for me.”

“Funny,” Hondo replies, even though you can tell he is amused. “You must want me to say something about the little fling going on here.”

“There isn’t a fling,” Luca calls from the driver’s seat. “And Hicks knows about the relationship.”

“But nice try,” you add.

“Stay liquid,” Hondo concludes, shaking his head as he smiles.

“Fifteen seconds,” Deacon alerts, sitting in the front by Luca.

“Let’s do this!”

You pull your helmet over your head and prepare to exit Black Betty as Luca stops three houses down from your final destination. The man holed up in the dilapidated bungalow down the road has warrants for three violent crimes and has racked up enough charges in fees from missing court over the years to pay off every student loan in America, you think. He’s dangerous, but you trust your team, and patrol officers have given you good intel. Right now, his house is as quiet as it gets. He should be inside, asleep, and likely won’t even know SWAT raided his home until he wakes up in jail later today.

“We got this,” Luca whispers beside you.

“Be careful,” you reply before splitting up.

Luca goes with Deacon to the west side of the house, and you branch off with Street to enter through the back door. Your relationship with Luca isn’t new, but it’s still growing. Luckily for today, you’re out of the stage where being away from him during a breach like this terrified you and it was hard to breathe until you saw him on the other side.

You take a deep breath as Street counts down with Hondo. The explosive on the door blows loudly, and Street leads you into the kitchen at the back of the house as you cover him.

Very quickly, you realize that all of the intel was bad. Hondo curses over the comms, and you begin yelling with your teammates.

“LAPD SWAT!” you yell with Street. “On the ground now! Everybody on the floor!”

The rest of your team is out of sight, caught in different parts of the house, but you can hear them shouting commands. In the kitchen and living room, standing before you and Street, at least 30 men are pushing toward you slowly, speaking to one another in Spanish when they aren’t yelling at you.

“Any ideas?” you ask Street.

“Flash bang?” he replies.

You nod and trade places with him, holding your gun against your shoulder. Several shots echo through the house as Street pulls the small flash-bang from his pocket. Unable to tell where the shots came from, if it was your team shooting or being shot at, you force yourself to focus.

“Back up!” you yell as a man steps toward you.

Just before Street throws the device, someone at the back of the crowd raises a pistol. You begin to warn Street, but you don’t get the chance. Before you hear the shot, the bullet knocks you backward and throws you against Street. He scrambles away from you quickly to keep the men away from you. Three flash bangs detonate simultaneously, and 50 Squad enters the front door to provide much-needed backup.

“Everybody good?” Rocker asks as patrol officers begin escorting the disoriented criminals out of the house.

“I think so,” Hondo replies. “Deacon and Luca are with me.”

Luca looks around, expecting you to walk out of the hallway joking with Street.

“Hondo!” Street yells from the kitchen.

Luca’s chest tightens, his heart feels like it leaps dangerously in his chest, and he steps forward to follow Hondo with pure fear running through his veins.

“Hold it!” Hicks calls, walking into the house with Jessica at his side. “20 Squad, get out of here.”

Hondo explains that something is up with you and Street, but Hicks repeats himself. Rocker nods and then disappears around the corner into the kitchen and doesn’t speak again.

“You can’t talk before the investigation begins,” Jessica adds.

“He didn’t make it?” Hondo asks, remembering the man who was shot.

Jessica shakes her head, and Hondo leaves the house without knowing how his team is. As Deacon prepares to follow him, he pushes Luca forward gently.

“I know,” Deacon says softly. “But we have to go.”

Rocker returns just as Luca stumbles out of hearing distance and requests a medic get inside. The same medic who announced the civilian DOA rushes into the house with a large medical bag bouncing against his hip. Street, however, is told to leave and grumbles as he exits the house.

“I’m fine,” you grumble as he kneels beside you. “It hit my vest.”

The medic pulls your vest over your head carefully, then unbuttons your uniform shirt and pulls the neck of your undershirt away from your chest. He shines a small flashlight against your skin before letting your shirt fall back into place.

“No hospital trip for you today,” he says. “You’re going to be sore and have a painful bruise for a few days, but your vest did its job.”

“Where’s my team?” you ask, hissing as you sit up.

“Headed back to HQ,” Jessica says.

You look up quickly, surprised to see her here.

“A civilian was shot, he’s dead,” she explains. “Until we figure out who took the shot, you can’t see them.”

“I need to tell Luca I’m okay,” you argue. “Two words, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

You stand, refusing her help as you follow another officer to a cruiser. As you fall into the passenger seat, tired and sore, you wonder how Luca will react to this sudden separation.

When you arrive at the station, you get permission to change in the locker room before taking your place in a private room to speak to Internal Affairs. The door closes behind you, and Luca steps out of the shower area, still wearing his tactical gear. He rushes toward you and carefully takes your shoulders as his eyes travel up and down your frame.

You take his hands and smile as you promise, “I’m okay.”

Luca hugs you carefully, though it's more him awkwardly wrapping his arms around you than hugging. “What did the medic say?” he asks.

Before you can answer or get too comfortable in his hold, an IA investigator opens the door and demands, “Officer Luca, we need you.”

“Can I get just a second?” he requests.

“No.”

You can see Luca’s attitude shift as he steps back. He doesn’t want to leave your side while you’re injured, and being forced to makes him grumpy. But he’s a good officer, and he’s going to listen. For a while, at least.

“I’m sorry, Luca,” Hicks says in the hallway. “But it’s protocol.”

“I don’t even know what happened to her!” he argues.

“And you won’t until after we’re finished. But I can promise you she’s okay.”

Luca stops outside the door where the IA team is waiting. He lowers his voice to reply, “She got shot, Hicks, you know she isn’t.”

Several minutes later, you exit the locker room in the most comfortable clothes you could find. After finding a place to sit and wait, you watch the hallway opening, hoping that Luca will come down here at some point and you can explain everything to him.

“Luca!” you call as he exits an office.

He steps backward, then turns to walk toward you.

“Officer Luca,” the officer behind him directs. “This way, please.”

Luca’s jaw tightens as his anger increases. The grumpiness he showed in the locker room was cute, you thought, but he’s getting worse. If you don’t get a chance to tell him what the medic said soon, he might snap and get himself in trouble. So, you decide to find an opening to promise you’re okay.

“Officer Luca,” the man repeats. You look up again, surprised to see Luca squaring his shoulders before the other man. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he warns lowly.

Luca’s fingers tighten into a fist, but he turns and storms away. You exhale in relief, then stand and follow them at a distance. The officer instructs Luca to wait by the sparring ring, then walks into Hick’s office.

Because he’s alone, you walk to Luca's side and bend forward to kiss his cheek. After kissing his cheek, you begin to pull away from him. “The medic said I’d be sore and bruised for a while, but the vest kept the bullet from doing any real damage. I’m absolutely okay, Luca. I promise.”

Luca nods, and says, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You walk away from Luca and feel his eyes on you until you turn the corner to return to your previous place.

“Where were you?” Jessica asks.

“I needed a tissue,” you lie. “Are they ready for me?”

“Not yet. Do you need anything?”

You sit down and shake your head. The only thing you need is Luca, and you already know the answer to that request.

You let your eyes close as you continue to wait. Soft footsteps echo in the hallway before they stop beside you. You recognize Luca’s touch as he lays his hand on your thigh and squats beside you. Opening your eyes, you smile and lean forward to wrap him in a hug. He reciprocates, being careful of where he touches you.

“Incoming,” someone warns from the end of the hall.

As Luca stands, you see Street standing guard and smile to thank him.

“We’re going to get time to talk,” Luca promises. “I’ll be back.”

You assume that the rest of your team will assist him in returning, likely aware of how worried he is. Over the next few hours, you’re all in and out of interviews with IA to account for every move and every breath you took in the house. Between those conversations, you and Luca find each other in quiet hallways, behind open doors, and tucked behind lockers for tiny moments to talk and show each other that you’re okay. The worry goes both ways: Luca is worried about your injury and you’re worried about his happiness and carrying residual concern about losing sight of him during the raid. The little moments aren’t enough, but they’re something, and your team helps you find every spare second you can.

Hiding behind Hondo so it appears that he and Luca are simply facing opposite directions to bide time, you ask, “Can I come over tonight?”

“If you think there’s another option, we need to get your head checked.”

“Sergeant Hondo, we’re ready for you,” someone calls before you duck around a corner and return to solitude.

Twenty minutes later, Hicks and Hondo exit his office together.

“20 Squad!” Hicks calls.

You join Deacon’s side, and he offers you an arm, unsure what the extent of your injury is. You smile and thank him, but don’t have a chance to tell him why you said no before Hicks dismisses you.

“IA has cleared all of you, you’re free to go home and get some rest,” he adds. “Sorry again about all of this, but…”

“We know how it is,” Deacon responds.

You take Luca’s hand as you walk to the locker room, and don’t let go as you gather your things and walk to his truck. The ride to his house is spent in silence. There’s too much to say, too many emotions involved, to have the conversation in the car.

Luca helps you inside and invites you to get comfortable. Once you’re in his bed, he climbs beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Turning slightly, you let Luca rest his head on your shoulder as his other arm lies gently across your waist.

“Are you okay?” you ask, trailing your fingers up and down his back.

Luca moves slightly, and you suddenly realize that he’s crying. You slide down in the bed, not caring that it hurts, to take his face in your hands.

“Luca,” you murmur, holding him tightly. “It’s okay.”

You fall silent then and let Luca release all the emotions he’s been carrying since this morning. Several minutes later, he quiets but keeps his arm around you as you hold him.

“I’m okay,” you promise softly. “I’m sorry.”

Luca shakes his head, silently promising he’s not angry with you. “I thought I was going to lose you. It terrified me.”

“Hey,” you whisper, encouraging him to look into your eyes. “I’m never leaving you.”

“You can’t make that promise.”

You nod, then amend, “I’m not leaving you, not without a fight. I’ll come back to you, even if I’m crawling, okay?”

Luca hugs you tightly, then releases you to say, “Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?”

You laugh at his reaction, getting close to him again. “I’m great now. I love you, Luca.”

“I love you,” he replies. “I’m not leaving you either.”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t punch anyone in IA.”

Luca groans, dropping his head against your shoulder. You feel whole again beside Luca despite the pain and fear of the day. Luca’s phone vibrates with a text from Street asking when Luca will cook to thank them for helping you today, and though you ignore it, knowing that your team cares about you and your relationship makes everything a little better.

[moonpascaltoo]

james buchanan ‘bucky’ barnes

masterlist • marvel • 07/08/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two

one

𑣲 jealousy and flirtation I @kinanabinks

There's nothing you want more than Bucky Barnes - but you and his best friend, Juniper, seem to have that in common.

𑣲 sesame and the sweetheart I @/kinanabinks

You've been on a few dates with Bucky now, and the sexual tension is at an all-time high. After another cute date, you realize you can't keep your hands off him for very much longer

𑣲 the sound of love I @/kinanabinks

𑣲 beneath the milky twilight pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 drabble I @bucksangel

Being Mr. Barnes’ personal assistant has been tough, balancing a full time job while taking care of your younger brothers has you running yourself thin. Then, things take a sharp turn after a dinner with your boss when you disclose your financial situation.

𑣲 give me a minute I @/bucksangel

𑣲 the spark I @/bucksangel

James Barnes, the bane of your existence, the man you swore to stay away from. Though his naturally good looks and charming smile may fool many of the women around you, you refuse to fall into his trap. It gets harder to do with every interaction you have with him, and when Bucky gets taken by Hydra, you're forced to face your feelings or risk losing him forever.

𑣲 until we meet again I @/bucksangel

The Blip changed everything and everyone. With Bucky now gone, and a toddler to raise, you find yourself leaning on Steve for support, as he does with you. What happens when, five years later, Bucky returns to find his best friend and best girl raising a kid? His kid.

𑣲 sniper I @adrinktostopyourthirst

Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

𑣲 pride and privacy pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 I @/adrinktostopyourthirst

Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

𑣲 don’t tell bucky I @lives-in-midgard

After a night out with Natasha and Wanda reader gets drunk and tells someone about her secret crush on Bucky.

𑣲 mine I @thestarkinternship

When you went out for drinks with the team one Friday, you had no idea that this was how the night would end: with your back pressed flush against your bedroom door, a shaking thigh hitched over your boyfriend's shoulder and his pretty mouth daring you to completely let go for everyone to hear.

𑣲 welcome home…soldat? pt2 pt3 pt4 I @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' every time he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

𑣲 until then I @/winterarmyy

A mission back in time brought Y/N to an unexpected encounter with the man she fell in love with.

𑣲 guess i’m just good with them I @amathslutsguidetofandom

𑣲 big, strong man I @/amathslutsguidetofandom

𑣲 unwanted I @scoonsalicious

When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

𑣲 sleepwalking I @lanadelreyscokewhor3

when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex. 

𑣲 ease my mind I @wkemeup

When Bucky is drugged into a coma plagued with nightmares and his heart rate has risen to dangerous levels within his sleep, you are the last resort to wake him before his heart gives out. But you must enter his mind to do so; enter... his nightmares.

𑣲 canyons and valleys I @/wkemeup

Bucky’s violent history is written upon his body like a map; scars he cannot bear to look at in fear of the monster in his reflection. When Bucky is forced to put his scars on display, he’s certain you’ll take one look at him and run.

𑣲 in shades of purple I @/wkemeup

While on a mission, you uncover footage of the Winter Soldier Project, exposing just how much torture Bucky had endured.

𑣲 behind the storm I @/wkemeup

On a mission, you're hit with a spell that takes away your ability to see. Bucky does what he can to make you feel safe.

𑣲 lavender I @/wkemeup

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know. 

𑣲 graveyard pt2 I @/wkemeup

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too.

𑣲 play pretend pt2 I @/wkemeup

When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help.

𑣲 american tattoo I @seventven

steve and bucky run a tattoo shop together in brooklyn. y/n, a friend of steve’s, decides to get inked. only bucky is present at the shop and he’s about to close it for the night. 

𑣲 the other guy I @/seventven

pietro proves to y/n that bucky is into her by doing everything in his power to make him jealous

𑣲 i’m begging for you (take my hand) I @allyouneedisbuck

bucky doesn’t do love, you love bucky. being friends with benefits makes sense, right?

𑣲 please thy neighbor I @jurassicbarnes

𑣲 what a night I @/jurassicbarnes

Bucky Barnes is out in the new world, navigating through everyday life and its trials and tribulations. His therapist insists he tries new things. He has collected a few new hobbies. But when it comes to making new acquaintances, what’s a better way to meet new people than a little dating site called Tinder.

𑣲 paper thin walls I @watchmegetobsessed

𑣲 upstairs I @onceuponastory

Bucky Barnes is constantly annoyed by his cat Alpine going to visit his upstairs neighbor for treats. That is however, until Bucky meets his new upstairs neighbour Y/N. Who Bucky definitely isn’t in love with. Not at all. Turns out that a 106 year old man might know more about love than he first thought. And that cats can make excellent wingmen.

𑣲 burn the witch I @dreamwritesimagines

There’s a thin line between mission and love, and spies aren’t allowed to cross that line.

𑣲 unrequited I @bccky

you realise that you are in love with your best friend, only for him to confess that he loves someone else.

𑣲 raw I @buckysboobs

she just wants bucky to fucking destroy her insides and rearrange her guts, but bucky's scared so he rejects her before another one of their love making sessions. she gets mad so making him jealous is the only way left to get him to fulfill her fantasies.

𑣲 after hours I @bucksfucks

it’s hard to focus on your PhD when your supervisor is none other than Professor Barnes.

𑣲 stress relief I @/bucksfucks

they say an orgasm reduces stress—bucky puts that to the test.

𑣲 the two of us I @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

𑣲 crawling back to you I @honeybunchesofbucky

After your breakup with Steve Rogers left you heartbroken and lonely, a night in with a bottle of wine gets interrupted by a familiar face; Bucky Barnes, who’s on a mission to show you what you’ve been missing out on.

𑣲 little boy blue pt2 pt3 pt4 I @samingtonwilson

𑣲 his baby I @inkedbybarnes

bucky won't call you by your name.

𑣲 damn bear I @lanabuckybarnes

Sgt Barnes wins you a bear at a carnival. What he doesn’t expect nor like is when you give it more attention, Bucky shows you that he’s better than the bear.

𑣲 angst request I @imyourbratzdoll

bucky flirts with sarah to make you jealous, forgetting that you aren't as secure as you come off.

𑣲 home is where you are I @buckys-wintersoldier

when you hear someone talking about Bucky you offer them your help to find him.

𑣲 fondue I @duuhrayliegh

bucky and steve’s daughter have been dating secretly for over half a year, this is how steve finds out.

𑣲 unleashed I @veltana

During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

𑣲 a forbidden invitation I @thevillainswhore

You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal — a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad.

𑣲 donut: the hole story I @jobean12-blog

When you stop at your favorite donut shop to grab some sweets on the way home from work they only have one left of your favorite flavor so you do what any other person would do...even though it's your husband's favorite too.

𑣲 fancy restaurant I @/jobean12-blog

Nat works her magic and 'accidentally' double books you and Bucky for babysitting. The kids don't want either of you to leave so you end up babysitting together and thanks to some imaginative play the night progresses perfectly.

𑣲 goes with the theme I @navybrat817

Bucky thinks his suit goes with a gala theme. You slightly disagree.

𑣲 loose ends I @sarahghetti

He picks up a photo on a bookshelf and Bucky sees her face, her smile between him and Steve and- He’s breaking down a door, she’s screaming. Metal around her throat, nothing more than choked gasps from her mouth--he does not want this memory back

𑣲 actor!bucky I @buckyalpine

𑣲 blackwidow!reader I @/buckyalpine

𑣲 unclear I @inkedbybarnes

everyone thinks you’re dating bucky, except yourself.

𑣲 why you over here being messy for? I @moonpascal

sam misinterprets a text on your phone

𑣲 sneaky I @malum-forev

Bucky has been acting extremely suspicious recently and Sam and Steve have noticed, but what they find out isn't the answer they were expecting.

[nick-writes-stuff]

Coming Home (MC reunites with the demons post-Nightbringer)

Satan x Reader

warnings: one use of MC, hurt/comfort, anger toward reader for a moment, disordered eating mentioned?

notes: I'm gonna be doing a series of these for the brothers! I have one for mammon half-written and ideas for beel and lucifer. i still need to think over belphie, levi, and asmo so they might come later!

Reentering the House of Lamentation was a strange feeling. You hadn't really left it, as you were in the building constantly throughout your stay in the past. But it wasn't the same place you knew. Most of the aspects that gave the building its charm were missing in the past, and it just felt a lot less like home.

You made your way up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you imagined coming back to your time, you didn't think you would be sneaking in, rather loudly announcing your presence to the brothers. But as you spent time with the past versions of the brothers, you knew that one of them would definitely need your presence as soon as possible.

Satan.

You couldn't imagine the thoughts he must have been thinking. Back when he was newly created, he was so angry and unpredictable and violent. But you saw through the facade the whole time. He was just scared and confused and you knew that. However present-day Satan is convinced you are never coming back because he did something to you in the past.

He had hardly talked to any of his brothers since you vanished. He spent hours going through every single book in his collection, desperately searching for any information that could bring you back to him. When his search didn't lead to any breakthroughs, he tore the library apart in a rage. Lucifer tried to be supportive but ended up causing one of the worst fights the two had ever had. He had been holed up in his room since, over two weeks alone to ruminate and loathe himself for how he likely treated you in the past. He only ate when Beel and Belphie brought something up from dinner, although on nights when Lucifer cooked, he didn't make Satan a serving out of spite about their confrontation.

You needed to see him. You had to prove him wrong and show him that he was wrong about himself. He needed to know you were okay and that you still loved him with every fiber of your being.

The metal doorknob was cold in your hands. The house was still and quiet except for your heart racing. You twisted it slowly, trying not to make much noise to alert the other 6 brothers.

You entered the room with confidence that you knew how to navigate the room. You had been living in the past for so long that you had a good sense of where Satan's piles of books were placed even in the dark.

After your foot made contact with the spine of a hardcover book, you came to the sudden realization that the layout of piles in the room had likely changed within the many, many years since the time you were accustomed to. A stack of books came crashing down to the floor with a thud.

Before you could say a word, you heard the bed creak loudly and saw the faint silhouette of Satan's demon form rise from his bed. His voice boomed through the room as he charged closer to your location: "I swear to Diavolo whoever is in here I'm going to fucking rip you to pieces if y-"

Unlike most individuals in the devildom, you didn't even flinch as one of the most powerful demons moved to attack. Instead you interrupted him by flicking the light switch in the room with your magic. This stopped Satan in his tracks as he instinctively closed his eyes due to the sudden brightness. Once he opened his eyes again, his eyes landed on you. Looking at you with a gaze only the present-day Satan, your Satan, would have toward you. Not a glare of hatred and anger and disgust but rather his green eyes full of concern and love.

Before he even thought about checking you for any injuries, he rushed forward and pulled you into his arms. He buried his face into your neck as he let out a strangled sob. You felt your heart break into a million pieces at the sound of his sorrow. One hand rubbed circles on his back while the other found its way into his hair.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, " you said softly. You continued murmuring similar sentiments to him until you heard the door swing open behind you.

"What the hell is going on in here-" You hear Lucifer's voice, cutting himself off once he recognized that it was you.

You felt Satan tense up in your arms, breath quickening as he felt his rage growing once again. You could already assume that something happened between the two of them. Regretfully, he pulled away from you and turned away from Lucifer to allow you to talk to him. You grabbed Satan's hand before turning around, rubbing your thumb along his.

You opened your mouth to say something until you saw Mammon behind his elder brother. The second you made eye contact, he bolted down the hall yelling "GUYS MC IS BACK!!" to alert the others. You winced slightly, knowing it was going to be hard to turn away the others to have a moment alone with Satan.

"You aren't hurt at all, are you? I was worried sick that someone would have-" Lucifer asked, with a slightly accusatory tone. It seemed like he was referring to a prior conversation, but you didn't entertain his attempt at starting a fight.

"I'm fine. Can you give me a second alone with him?" You cut him off. He was clearly taken aback by your comment and thought about snapping at you, but he left the room and swung the door shut. He would lecture you about it later.

Once the door shut, you turned around to face Satan, pulling him back into your arms for a quick hug. You took in the moment, finally realizing that it's really him now. You were finally back with your cat-loving bookworm once again.

When you pulled back, you noticed Satan scanning your form, probably looking for any injuries you were hiding from him.

"Satan, I'm fine." You said. He met your eyes, still seeming slightly suspicious.

He began to ramble nervously. "I must have hurt you. If not physically than emotionally because back then I was a mon-"

You interrupted him by pressing your lips onto his. He was surprised for a moment but eventually kissed back.

When you pulled away, you reached for one of his hands. "I promise, you did nothing to hurt me." You said with a gentle yet stern voice.

"I had to. I was so volatile and wrathful and-"

"Scared." You interrupted him once again. You squeezed his hand lightly. "You were just created and learning how to live in an extremely chaotic environment with emotions that were hardly your own."

He looked away from you to the floor as you spoke, and you gingerly guided his gaze back to meet yours. "You always seem to forget that I can read you like a book." You said, earning a light chuckle from him.

Satan took a deep breath, taking a moment to think before asking his next question. "If I hadn't done anything to you, why were you so insistent on getting to talk to me alone?"

You sighed softly. "Because I knew you would have been spiraling thinking that I was never coming back because you killed me."

He doesn't obviously react to your statement at first, but he then pulls you into a hug with a shuddering breath. He murmurs a soft "I love you" which you reciprocate. You'd never tell his brothers, but you feel a tear hit your shoulder.

After a moment he pulls away, covertly wiping his eyes of any remaining evidence of crying. You see a slight smirk on his face, a sight you were grateful to see. "Of course you would want to come see me first. I am your favorite, after all," He said jokingly.

You laughed, a sound he had been wishing to hear for weeks now. "Of course you are." You said, leaning forward to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I know you were in a rush to see me, but did you have to go wrecking my organization?" He said, referring to the collapsed pile of books across the floor.

You lightheartedly rolled your eyes. "Listen okay, I was so used to living in this house but hundreds of years ago, and your room's layout has changed a lot since then."

He chuckled at your comment, a sound you too had been waiting to hear for weeks.

"I know you would love to have my company all to yourself, but I think we should stop torturing your brothers and let them have a proper reunion too." You said softly.

He was obviously displeased with the comment, sighing in annoyance, but you gave him a disapproving look. "Fine, you can reunite with everyone except Lucifer." he said in a tone where he was only partially joking.

You rolled your eyes slightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek before moving to open the door. Once you did, you were instantly surrounded by the other six most powerful demons in the devildom, but the most important to you stood aside for the moment.

[hysteria-things]

can u do a story of like chris sturnolio being a dad ??

UNEXPECTED TURNS

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dad!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: at first, you were devastated to find out that you were pregnant at this age. now, realization hits and turns out it’s not so bad for not only you; but chris too.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFFY, angst in the beginning, flashbacks, panic attack

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 760

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR A REQUEST LIKE THIS I FIND THESE SO CUTE!

was gonna save this for another day but i’m too impatient LMAO

i’m trying to get through my inbox so there should be lots to come! hope you like it anon :)

*flashback*

‘pregnant’

you read the word at least ten times on the test in your violently shaking hand.

a sob leaves your throat as you tremble. “no.” you choke out.

you try your best to grab your phone and text chris, your boyfriend. you need him here, and you need him here now.

“y/n?” his voice echoes through the house. you steadied your breathing, but you’re still a trembling and crying mess on the bathroom floor.

you hear footsteps coming up the steps. “y/n?” he calls out again.

he runs over to the bathroom door and opens it. the panic shoots through your body again when you see him, and you breathe heavily. “i’m sorry.” you say between sobs.

chris worries all over his face. he kneels to you to take your shaky hands in his. “sorry about what? oh my god, what happened?”

you point to the counter where the test is. he knits his eyebrows together and grabs it off the countertop. he scans over it for a few beats before looking into your crying eyes.

he sets the test down, taking his thumbs and trying his best to rub as many tears away. “i’m sorry.” you repeat.

he brings your head into his chest and tries to shush you. “you have nothing to be sorry about.”

he rubs up and down your body in a soothing motion, whispering in your ear. he rocks you from side to side.

his chin is resting on top of your head. “i’m with you on whatever decision you make. you know that right?” he tells you, kissing your head.

you nod. your ear is on his heartbeat, which is strangely calm. you close your eyes to focus on the rhythm, your breathing steadying along with it.

*9 months later*

tears of joy leave your eyes when the doctor carefully places your daughter in your arms. chris held onto your hand tight the whole birth. he rests his forehead on yours and kisses your nose, then the top of your little girl’s head.

“thank you for giving her to me.” you smile at chris.

“are you kidding? you’re the one that went through hell for nine months.” you and him both chuckle. “you’re a warrior, y/n. don’t ever forget that.”

holding your child for the first time is a different type of love. you never want to let them go.

despite both of you being 20, you know you guys can be the best parents to your baby girl.

*now*

chris sighs when he hears your one-year-old in the pack-and-play he set up in the living room. she’s been crying nonstop.

he gets up from the couch and walks over, leaning to get a better view of her. “what is it, little miss?” he says, reaching into the pack-and-play to pick her up.

she stops her crying to look at her father for a split second, but then goes back to the tantrum. “ma-ma.” she cries.

“your mama is taking a nap. she needs to rest.”

that only makes sadie cry harder, and chris tuts. “let’s take a look outside.”

you guys bought a house during your pregnancy, still close to his and your family. it came with a beautiful backyard.

ever since sadie was born, she has been so fascinated by looking outside. it always worked to calm down her little outbursts.

chris turns so his back is facing the glass door. her head rests on his shoulder as she looks at the summer greenery and flowers. her crying immediately stops, and now she’s doing rapid sniffles.

he rubs her back in a soothing circular motion and rocks from side to side. “i don’t like when you’re this upset, little miss. everything’s okay, i promise.”

her cheek rests on his shoulder, her breathing going back to normal.

when it seems to be a little too quiet, he peeks to look at her face, seeing sadie holding on tight to his arm and sleeping peacefully.

he rolls his eyes but smiles. “so dramatic.” he mumbles. “i wonder who you get it from.”

chris walks the sleeping infant into her nursery to set her down in the crib. before doing so, he kissed her on the cheek.

he stays there to admire what’s in front of him. she most definitely has your face and hair, but she has his blue eyes.

this was not a part of the plan in your relationship; at least not this soon. however, you guys wouldn’t want it any other way.

and that’s the beauty of unexpected turns.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

[shotmrmiller]

cw: age gap, reader is mid 20s, call off the pitch forks. f!reader, smut:)

dbf!price babyyyy

dbf!price met you on your 18th birthday for the first time, and he thought nothing of you. Just a slip of woman, if he can even call you that.

you are just simon's precious daughter.

and it stayed that way for years. he came over a lot, mostly to get away from his nagging wife and occasionally he'd see you whenever you were home from college.

again, nothing other than polite.

until one day, the guys had come over for some beer and sports. price had walked into the kitchen to get himself another beer when he noticed you on your tip toes trying to get a box of cereal from the very top shelf of the pantry.

he chuckled under his breath as he heard you mutter a string of curses when your fingertips pushed the box closer to the wall and decided to intervene.

his footsteps were silent as he approached you from behind, and easily reached for the cereal, grabbing it with a large hand.

"Oh! Thank you, daddy! I don't know why you insist on-"

you choke on your spit when you turn around and realize that it's not your dad that helped you, but his friend. his captain.

a bright, rosy hue spreads across your cheeks as your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

"I- oh! oh my god i, listen, jesus, i'm so sorry mr. price i don't- i thought it was my dad, obviously. i'm so sorry god how embarrassing-"

you're babbling but john hears nothing other than the word you so sweetly said on repeat inside of his head.

daddy, daddy, daddydaddydaddy-

"-right, mr. price?"

he's snapped back to reality with your question.

"yeah, love, i'm alright. I was just thinking if i turned off the stove before coming over or not."

thank god for your naïveté because you take him for his word, and ramble about how it happens to the best of us, good thing that stoves are now electric and whatever other nonsense.

he hands you the now-indented box of cereal and swiftly steps away from you.

"i'll tell simon that he's got to be mindful of the short occupants of his house," john playfully teases.

the peal of laughter you let out sends a jolt straight to his stiffening cock.

"i'm not short! it's not my fault all of you guys are just so big!"

oh sweetheart, you have no idea how big he is.

he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from thinking about you and the pussy he undoubtedly knows is just so tight, scorching hot and arousal sweet as honey-

"i'll see ya later, mr. price!"

he blinks rapidly, smiles and watches you walk out of the kitchen and turn the corner.

john grabs himself from outside his trousers, palm shifting his now fully erect, thick length around to hide it as best he can.

damn.

he scratches the side of his bearded face, and pops open the fridge, finally grabbing a beer.

god fucking damn.

later in the evening, once he's sobered up enough, he goes home and he fucks his wife with renewed vigor, until she's a sobbing mess under him, clawing at his broad back with her nails, and her walls spasming around him, drenching him with her slick.

john comes violently, black dots peppering his vision and a guttural groan clawing its way out of his throat, your name on the very tip of his tongue.

he doesn't hold his wife as she falls asleep just as how he left her- naked, body cooling with sweat, cunt full of his spend.

this mutton is not the lamb he wants.

[aphroditesmoon]

lacrymosa [part 1]

clarisse la rue x fem!hecatecabin!reader [boarding school au]

PART 2

summary: you were sent to a prestigious boarding school to be rid from your father as a burden, but when strange things begins to happen upon your arrival, you wonder what truly lies behind the school walls. And as you attract attention from an infamous student, your plans to lie low is disrupted for the semester.

warnings: basically pjo plot in a different font, wlw relationships and what that entails, artist!reader. warnings will be according to the chapter.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: part 2 will hv more clarisse, also I've never been good at finishing series, but here's to an attempt! Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

The violent wind coming from outside of the car window sent a sharp shiver down your spine. You readjust your sitting position, pushing your school bag further away from you.

"Would you like to close the window, miss?" The driver asked, sparing a glance to your way. "No, it's fine." You assured him.

You have always liked the cold, it calms your nerves in a way. And for a day like this, you need all the help you can get.

Your father hadn't even been home to see you off for the last time. But you were kind of grateful for that. Usually you'd find it upsetting. But it was a clear decision that he purposely wanted you out of his line of vision when he had registered you into this boarding school.

Prestigious and highly acclaimed, he called it. Those were just polite words for strict and overbearing.

You have stopped wasting time trying to figure out why he hates you. Your mother dying from your birth was only the tip of the iceberg. Your whole existence is a burden to him, no matter how hard you've tried to change it.

I wonder if I'll even miss the hostility he's always given me, or the empty white walls of his mansions that have seen me at my worst and at my best. Those thoughts shouldn't matter anymore, you told yourself.

You've never been happy in that house, but familiarity, sometimes, was better than nothing. You fiddled with your crimson red tie that came with the uniform. What you could tell from the way you're dressed along with the down payment your father had to pay for you is that this place is an exaggerated babysitting place for rich kids with attitude problems.

You've been sent to many places away from your father. Summer camp, Spring camp, summer school and all that. But nothing this far away.

As per your research, the school seemed to be located far from the city and near the mountains up north. There are two buildings divided by gender that stands a few meters away from each other. Not that it'd be a problem for you. You've never been interested in boys much.

It was sunny earlier on the road, but the nearer you are to your destination, the cloudier the sky gets. "Looks like it's about to rain." You mumbled to yourself.

"That's normal here, miss. The weather here's always cold." The driver spoke from the front. You hadn't realized that he heard what you said.

It was a few minutes later when you finally see a large building from a distance. The view lived up to it's reputation even from a far. You feel your heart sinking into a stomach, the anxiety worsening.

This was it. This will be your home for the next 2 or 3 years.

Your driver speeds up once drizzling rain begins to fall down from the sky. You allow him to close the window from his seat and lower down the ac.

Feeling your fingers pruning up, you rub your palms together for warmth after reaching for your bag, pulling it closer to you.

The weather wasn't going to be a problem, and hopefully the people here won't be too.

---

When the car slowed down in front of the entrance, you let yourself take in the view of it all, girls ranging from your ages to younger, walking past of sitting by the stairs. All of them wearing the same thing that you are.

You didn't mean to make the driver open the door for you, but he did anyways as you're too distracted to stop him.

He moves straight to the back to retrieve your other bags as you step out of the vehicle. Some of the girls stopped and stared at you, knowing how rare it is to have new students here.

You couldn't tell what lies behind their long glares and gazes, but you had a feeling that they were eyeing you up like a predator does to their prey. Focusing on the large cream and white colored building staring you down, your heart whispered out a hopeful wish that you could just get back in the car and drive off.

You fix up your plaited skirt and turn towards your driver. "Do you need help to bring these in?" He asks.

You shook your head, immediately taking them into your hands. "No, I got it. But thank you." He smiled warmly as he shut the car hood close. "Have a great year, miss." He tells you politely before walking back to the driver's seat.

And that was the last familiar face you'll ever see for the rest of the semester. You lift up your hand in a tiny wave as you watch him reverse and drive off from the school ground.

You see him wave back before he finally disappears for good.

The staircase made it harder for you and your bags, and if you were expecting any kind eyes to offer some help, none came to it. Instead they all looked at you like you were stupid.

You counted the steps under your breath, stopping when you reached number 5, and then starting back again from 1. It was also an effort to keep your anxiety together, but at certain times like these, you wondered if breathing exercises are all lies made up by a psychiatrist to worsen someone symptom and continue to drive them crazy.

After a couple series of 1 to 5s, you finally made it to the top of the stairwell and into the open doors of the school.

If the rain outside hadn't been freezing your toes, inside was much more brutal. The school is air conditioned, of course it is.

When you said you liked cold, you didn't mean the frozen kind. The strawberry pink socks you're wearing aren't doing you any favors either as you breath out a tired sigh, full hands dragging your bags with you until you reach a tiny counter with the label "office" above the glass.

A teacher, or a guardian, sits inside, working on some paperwork. She looked up when she heard the rolling sound of the wheels on your bag and offered a small smile.

"You're new here, I take it?" You nodded your head and pursed your lips tightly. "Can I have your name?"

You gave her the information needed, from yoir name to your birth certificate. And once she's done compiling the necessary paperworks into a file, she stacks it in the shelves behind her.

"Here's your class schedule, and here's your dorm key." You slid the key onto your pocket and slipped the paper under your arms as you listened to her explaining how the dorm building is in a complete other side of this place, and that you'd have to drag your bags back down the lengthy staircase and walk another 6 minutes towards the other building on the left of the school. Not to be mistaken with the boy's dorms on the right.

You ignored the continuous staring from the other student as you forced yourself down again, and into the left.

The road to the dorm was nicely designed, a straightly drawn black and white concrete pavement in squares with grass on its side. It made the place look more homely. But of course, it wasn’t really gonna fool anyone.

The dragging became easier on the ground. You thanked the gods once you got to the other building once you spotted an elevator. Your first thought was, oh thank fuck for these rich assholes. And your second thought was, oh these are some real rich assholes.

There are less staring here since mostly everyone is already in school. You took your time walking once you're out of the elevator, reading the large signs of the dorm level names.

There are 20 levels to be accurate. And yours, unfortunately, is level 20.

You stood up straight in that elevator for what felt like a whole 10 minutes until it dinged open. Finding your room was much easier, you didn't have to walk very far to find your door. You used the key given to you to unlock the doors and pushed your bags into the room first before you.

You halted for a minute when you met with two strange girls from the inside.

Your roommates apparently have not gone to their classes yet and are still here. They looked at you expectantly as you stared right back.

"Uh-" your daydreams broke. "I'm new here." You announced.

One of the two laughed slightly and shook their head. "We know, we were waiting for you. I'm Harper, and this is Olivia." They extended their hands and you shook them without question.

"So, where'd you come from?" Olivia asks. She had beautiful green eyes and wavy blonde hair. Harper on the other hand, had dark hair and bold blue eyes. Next to each other, the two looks quite the pair. You began rearranging your bags on your side and taking out important things needed for your classes as you answer their inquiries. "New York."

"A city girl, that's nice. The difference here must be jarring." You snorted whilst you hang your clothes on to your small closet. "Very."

They walked out with you once you were done unpacking, leading you back to the school.

"The teachers won't mind you being late, with you being new and all that. But make a habit out of it and you'll get a penalty for it." Harper explained. "Penalty?"

They both nodded and kept on walking up towards the entrance. "Attendance is very important, this isn't public school, lying about health problems to get out of class or skip and disappear for more than 3 times, you could get expelled."

That is insane, you thought. "I didn't know they're that strict." Harper smirked and shrugged at that. "Yeah, I mean unless you're a legacy student, or your parents donate a lot for the school, you won't get many benefits."

Of course, even among the rich, the most privileged still get to escape justice and fairness. "Are you both legacy students?"

"No." Olivia snorted. "What's your locker number?" She takes a peek at your papers and moved right to your locker, opening it with ease.

"Thanks." You tell her while shoving your books inside of it.

"There aren't many legacy students here." Harper spoke from your side, referring back to your question from earlier.

"There are only certain families with histories deeply rooted within the school walls, like Luke Castellan or Silena.”

Your brows raises at those names as the three of you leaned back on the lockers. "Let me guess, they're brats who can get you expelled?"

"Worse." Olivia corrected with a sarcastic smile. "They can do whatever shit they want to you, and will not get expelled for it."

"But don't worry, half of them are decent, just don't piss them off and they'll leave you alone." You nod in understanding, knowing that it was your plan anyways, even if they hadn't warned you.

"Luke's not even entitled or mean, he's actually pretty nice. He helped me take out a book from the library once." Olivia added, wiggling her brows.

"You're just saying that because you like him." Harper scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Even if I didn't, he's still not an ass." The bell rang the minute her sentence was finished. The two girls groaned and started saying their goodbyes before they parted ways to attend their classes.

"Meet up back for lunch?" Harper initiates. "Sure." You told her before following her directions to pre Calculus.

Your brain still hadn't fully registered what just happened. You just made two new friends, and that is a relief. Though you enjoy your alone time along with some quiet and peace, that doesn't mean you don't get lonely or feel isolated. Having bad social skills doesn't exactly equate to joy wanting a social life at all.

You walk into the half filled classroom and scan the space for an empty seat.

Some kids up front started whispering to themselves as they watched you from the corner of their eyes, but none of them tried speaking to you directly.

You flinch when you heard the teacher's voice, booming through the classroom as she enters right behind you. "You're the new girl?" She drops her bag onto her chair and looked you directly in your eyes.

"Yes." The teacher hummed to herself and turned towards her other students. "Do we have any empty seats at the back?" She asks loudly.

"There's one, but it's Chase's." A boy responded. "He's not in today, is he?" He shook his head at her.

"Alright, you can sit there temporarily, I'll ask the boys to bring in an extra table and chair for you tomorrow." You thanked her and walked right to your seat.

Grateful to be seated at the last row by the window, you slumped against the chair, relaxing your back.

The kids at the front stop wasting their time twisting their heads to stare at you, and as the class begins, you tell yourself that maybe this isn't as bad as you thought it'd be.

-

Your first class ever had been less exciting than expected. You had spent the last 20 minutes of the class trying not to doze off.

Barely any sleep came to you last night, considering how nervous you were for this day. All the worries you've had were for nothing, so far it's all been a bore, and all you wanted to do was to crawl back on to your bed at home and escape all of this strangeness.

Get your shit together, you scolded yourself. You've been all alone your whole life, how different is it now?

The girl on the seat next to yours had craned her neck in your direction, trying to peek through your notebook. Instinctively, you closed over it with your arm.

She did not need to see how there are zero equations in your notebook, all replaced with doodles of flowers and frogs.

When all is hopeless, your passion is where you turn to. Life is suffering in parts, but you find that being able to make it into art, makes the suffering less painful, or at least, more manageable.

Your father had never liked how you prefer to spend your time in art class over piano. In fact, when you were much younger, he even took the initiative to throw out all of your sketchbook. You had to find time to practice your drawing when you aren't at home, knowing his ignorance for your privacy.

But here, hopefully, you'll have ample time to draw and paint.

Once the class is dismissed, you make your way straight into the bathroom, trying to get into a booth before it gets crowded. You caught a glimpse of your reflection from the mirror and cringed at yourself. For some reason, even when you're not doing anything, the school air still finds a way to turn your hair frizzy.

You ran into the small space with open doors and knocked it shut as soon as you're in.

You could hear footsteps entering in right after you're done peeing. A cacophony of running sink water and empty chatter fills your ears as you stood up to fix your skirt and your socks.

The zip of your skirt seemed to have an issue getting stuck on a piece of string, holding it back from fully zipping up. You lifted it up higher and pulled the string out before using your teeth to rip it off of the zip and waving it onto the floor.

There was a moment of silence outside the door just before you were going to exit it. But a loud sound of slamming doors and laughter stops you at your place.

"Lock the doors." You hear another female voice command. She was not shouting, but she had a bold voice that seemed fit for a leader, straight to the point and confident.

Any noise of giggling or chatting immediately died down the moment the girl and her friends stepped in, and now you wonder if getting out would be a good idea at all. So you stayed quiet inside the bathroom.

Your palms are held against the door while you lean into it, trying to hear her clearer.

"What did I tell you last week?" The girl spoke again. She sounded upset or the second worst thing, disappointed.

Another voice rose up in response, meeker in comparison. "You said to have it by Monday."

"It's Wednesday today."

"But I have it now!" The other girl pleaded. "I don't care. I asked for it on Monday, you're two days late." The silence that came after her words was worrying. It was only when she spoke again that you felt your racing heart slowing down.

"You know what you're gonna do right now?" She asks. Silence. "You're going to hand me the money, and then you're going to give me 20 on the ground, right here."

20 what? You frowned in confusion. Money?

You expected resistance, begging, or even defiance from the other girl, but you only heard a resigned sigh from the other side of the door.

The door creaked slightly. You tried to balance yourself away from it when you accidentally slipped. Your fingers reach for the door handle to pull yourself up, and just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the door slams back on its hinges. You cursed yourself internally.

"What the fuck." The first girl snapped. "Booth number 2." She called out. "Get out of there right now or I'll break the door now."

Your breath hitches at the direct interaction and your hands hesitate to unlock the booth. But you'd rather get it over with than risk being taunted in a toilet.

You unlatch the lock with your fingers and slowly pull open the door. The first face you're met with is the one you assume who had addressed you seconds ago.

She had a naturally terrifying expression, with her brows knitted together and her hair pulled up in a ponytail. The bronze skinned girl connecting her gaze to yours.

The staring did not last as she soon started eyeing you up and down like she's analyzing every bad decision you've ever made.

But when she lifts her head back up to your face, you noticed that her frowning had lessened slightly. "You're new." She states aloud.

"How'd you know?" You ask her. "Anyone who's been here for more than a week would have the mind to run out of the bathroom as soon as they heard me." She answered coolly, taking a few steps nearer to you.

"What's your name?" She asks you. You tell her your first name.

She hums in acknowledgement before repeating your name, letting the syllables roll against her tongue. "I assume you haven't been making any friends yet, have you?"

You tried not to look to her side at the girl that was currently half squatting on the floor. "You're making her do push ups." You think aloud, ignoring her question.

"What? Oh, her? She's not important, and she's lucky i’m only making her do 25." The girl waved off like it's a silly joke. "I thought you said 20?" The other girl muttered under her breath.

She snapped her head at the younger girl and glared at her. "One more word and I'll make it 30."

Turning her head back to you, the anger she bore dissolved. "It's a good thing you've met me," she started. "In this place, it's all about making the right type of friends, just in case and not enemies."

"I don't plan on making enemies." You tell her. She was trying to intimidate you. Or at least, ruffle your feathers.

"No one does, but they just do it anyways without realizing." She answers with a shrug.

"And I suppose, if I'm with you, I won't fall down that road?" You didn't mean for it to sound insulting or sarcastic, but when she raised a brow in response, a ghost of smirk over her face, you realized that it was too late to take back your words.

"No, you won't. Because I am that enemy that you should be avoiding." You wondered if she is one of those people that's all talk and no bite, but the way she's folding her arms together as she stands inches away from you, radiated something much more sinister than you'd expect from a typical bully.

"I have to go." You say suddenly, a sense of urgency filled you when you remembered that Harper and Olivia would be waiting for you in the cafeteria. "I won't tell anyone about this." You added, trying to make sure there'd be no bad blood between the two of you.

"You can tell anyone you'd like, it wouldn't matter." She replies, stepping away from you to lean her back on the sink counter.

You clicked your heels away from her and made your way out, taking off the locks before you could swing the door open. You could feel her gaze on you as you left, but didn't twist your head back to confirm.

It didn't matter who she was. A few hours from now you'd forget you even met her, and just like always, you'll blend in with the crowd and be out of her sight.

---

"Where have you been?" Harper inquired once you sat next to her.

She had half a donut in her mouth as she asked this. "Don't talk with your mouth full." You chided her. She groans and mumbles something else you can't understand but chews the food until she's finished before she speaks again.

"We waited for like 10 minutes, you know recess isn't that long." You took a bite of your own sandwich and shrugged at her like nothing. "I was in the bathroom, there was a line." Harper nodded in understanding, but Olivia made a face of disgust as she toyed with her food.

"I hate the bathroom here, the dorm bathrooms are better." She said.

"What if you really need to pee?" You ask in disbelief. "I hold it in."

"What if you had explosive diarrhea?"

"Well, that would suck." Harper chokes out laugh, trying not to spit out her donut. You joined her with a chuckle, shaking your head at your friend.

"Your fear of public bathrooms will be the death of you." Harper quipped after taking a long sip of water. "I think it makes me stronger." Olivia argues.

"Well, I think it's gonna mess with your bladder." The brunette argues back. You listen to their back and forth until the bell rings again, indicating the end of recess.

You were a bit bummed that your classes aren't aligned with theirs, your nerves are much less triggered when they're around, a sense of familiarity of a sort.

Though, there was nothing you can do about it. You say your goodbyes at your lockers and parted ways again for your last 2 classes. The rest of school time was made bearable with the reminder that you at least shared rooms with your two new friends, and so there was nothing to worry about at all actually.

A part of you feels safer when you're around them. Though your mind is constantly bringing up the girl you've met in the bathroom. Her brown eyes and the way she looked at you.

She didn't strike you as someone admirable, but you had to admit, her features were remarkable. You had pulled out a pencil and a paper for a quick sketch of her eyes during Literature class.

It only hit you then, that you haven't even asked for her name. She knew yours, but you didn't know hers.

What would it matter? You asked yourself. If all goes well, you'll never see her for the whole semester at all. And she'd be nothing more than another face in your sketchbook.

You paid attention to the lesson, but your hands just needed something to work on while you were listening. Tapping your fingers repeatedly on the table was getting old, so you got productive and drew up a little something.

You had managed only half of her face on the paper by the time the class ended. Slipping the book into your tote bag, you follow the rush of students leaving class and heading back to your locker to switch your books for the last class.

-

It was 8pm when you were finally in the dorm elevator, back against the cold silver metal, relieving the warmth that radiated off of your body. The gym here is open all day and night, and even if the only equipment they had was a treadmill, you intended to utilise them fully.

Working out helps to take your mind off things, and it tires you out enough to help you sleep easier at night.

And so while everyone went back to their dorms, you stashed your bag by the gym entrance and tied your hair back up and went ahead for a good 40 minutes run.

You kept your eyes on the elevator level, watching the number get higher and higher until it eventually reached 20. It dinged open and allows you out with your poor tired feet and worn out expression.

It was quiet on the top floor, nothing like you’d predict what with the hour still being early. The small light bulbs above your head led you straight down the long corridor until you reached your room.

You took out your key and slashed it into the keyhole and heard your friends’ voices evolving from muffled noises into a clearer state as you pushed the door open.

You expected the girls to scold you over your absence again, as you do make it a habit of going places without letting them know, but what you didn't expect once you enter your dorm room, is for them to genuinely fret over your late arrival.

"You can't just disappear without telling anyone!" Olivia exclaimed, her large green eyes staring into your soul as you took your uniform off. "I was at the gym." You explained.

“In your school clothes?” Harper scrunches her nose in disagreement. “Hey, it's convenient.” You retorted.

"Were there other people there?" You shook your head no. "Well, maybe next time we'll go with you. I know you're not used to the unspoken rules here, but there are seriously more creeps than you can imagine in this place."

They were both sitting on their beds as they're talking to you, fully dressed in their matching pajamas like twins.

Harper had a face mask on as she rested her head on her pillows, her elbows used to help her sit up. They had music playing in the background, a song you recognized as Tourniquet by Evanescence. “I love this song.” You say randomly.

“Don’t change the subject.” You look over at them in confusion once you're finished changing.

"I didn't know it'd be such a big deal, I'm doing what everyone else does."

"I know, but I'm just saying, maybe we should all just play it safe for the semester. We don’t want another Samara accident." Harper reasoned.

You walked over to sit by the edge of her bed and asked her who's Samara.

"Samara Turner. She's a senior from last year. Some kid found her passed out by the back garden, her eyes were rolled back, and she was basically frothing from the mouth. When the ambulance came, it was too late. She was gone."

“Are you just making this up to scare me?” You ask them suspiciously. “No!” Olivia denies. “It's a real story, the teachers covered it up real good for future students, not even the news got a hold of Samara's fate.”

"Does anyone know what really happened?" You questioned them.

"The police ruled it as an overdose, but I can't imagine any type of drug running through her veins. And also, in the garden? That's just weird." Olivia says, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You guys think someone drugged her?" Harper shrugged and pursed her lips, inconclusive.

"Either way. It happened when she was alone. What was she even doing in the garden late at night? No one knows. But everyone will point their finger right back at her and say it's her own fault." You understood what they meant. This place isn't as picture perfect as it seemed, just like any other place, it has its holes and flaws.

"Okay, the next time I'm going anywhere other than my classes, I'll let one of you know." Harper and Olivia smiled and looked relieved. You could tell they were satisfied by your answer. "And if we're going anywhere, we'll tell you."

"Okay." You assured them.

You've never really known what it was like to have people worry over you this way. Most of the time, people were grateful when you minded your own business and hid away. And sure there is a little bit of annoyance that comes with being scolded like a child, but it also felt good to have someone care for you this way.

You folded your knees onto your chest, repositioning yourself on her bed. It is only after you move closer to her that you notice your sketchbook on her side table.

"Where'd you find that?" You jolted up, eyes widening..

"Oh, this is another thing we wanted to ask you about." Harper exclaimed, stretching her arm towards the book and passing it over to you. "Clarisse came over here like 15 minutes ago, said you dropped this."

"Who's Clarisse?" You frowned.

"Oh that's funny, you don't know who Clarisse is, and yet she's talking about you like you've been friends for ages." Harper says it like a mother hen catching her daughter red handed, but you're only further confused.

"No, seriously. Who's Clarisse?"

Olivia sighed from her bed and waved her hand exaggeratedly. "Curly hair, dark skin, looks like she can dropkick you in 6 different ways." Instantly, something in your brain clicked.

"Oh, her." Their expression changed into curiosity as they await for you to add more.

"I...met her in the bathroom. She was making a kid do pushups. But we barely talked, I just left."

"Yeah well, she asked where you were when she came by, and we told her we didn't know. And then she gave me this." You opened the book and found that the page with her face on has been ripped away.

Something eats away at your heart when you saw the torn pages, but you said nothing and instead just tossed the book onto your own bed. "What's her deal anyways." You huffed.

"Legacy students, they're all a little entitled like that, her more than others." Olivia answered.

"Oh, she's entitled alright." You muttered to yourself and rolled your eyes.

"I think I'm just gonna go catch up on homework now, unless there's anything else you two want to nag me on." Harper snorted and shoved you playfully but still smiled.

"No, no more nagging." Olivia concluded.

[the-artist-grimm]

Hey, Grimm, I've been meaning to ask, but what other information do you have about the vessels (besides 7, 12 and 13, which you explored already)? I know 9 is gender fluid as well, but that's about it.

Also, credit where credit is due, you were the inspiration for my Forneus to be a former vessel as well, though I went with tarot instead of numerology as theme.

Crimson Angel AU - Vessels 1-12

(I don't have too much on the others but I got some notes!)

Vessels #1 and #2 - Tasked with breaking into Shamura's archives to find a way to break the spell

#1 (Unity) They were Narinder's only witness, and after their Lord was chained, killed themself to reach his side, knowing he'd resurrect them. They worked diligently but abdicated after 150 years, as after well over a century of having no luck in freeing their god, they were tired. They did not die in pain, they simply stabbed their heart and asked Narinder not to revive them. Narinder only realized it a while after, but they had loved him-and though he'd not felt the same, he did feel guilty for letting them go on for so long. Their lengthy service was because of their unrequited love, and had he'd known, he would've insisted they go live their life and leave him.

#2 (Duality) Was actually a set of twins, a Brother and Sister whom died together and asked to share the crown. Tag-teaming crusades and the cult, they managed to finally help him understand the spell, yet after 120 years the two were tired as well, and thus he released them from service, wanting time as well to contemplate what to do from there. To his horror, however, they returned to him in less than a year-executed by War for their 'crimes' against the Old Faith. He offered to revive them again yet they refused, and thus passed on.

Vessel #3 - Originally tasked with the archives again, then the first to try killing the Bishops

#3 (Trinity, the Spirit Realm) She was once a budding seer, yet died after one of her card-readings angered a client. Narinder originally asked her to try searching the archives for another way to be freed, but eventually came to understand he had no choice, and sent her to try and fight his siblings. Somewhat stable at first, her mind, however, gradually began to crumble under the weight of death and blood, and eventually his once calm vessel became violent and un-predictable. Narinder forced her to abdicate after 100 years of service, and she died a month later after her cards said she could take on War alone without a crown. It was her who made Narinder order Red to keep closer watch on vessel mental states.

Vessels #4-#6 - Tasked with trying to kill the Bishops

#4 (Balance) The oldest vessel at age 55, he was a former guard captain. An effective leader, he, however, was not physically fit to fight as much as required, even with the crown's aid. He voluntarily abdicated after only 60 years then was executed by Leshy after 5, he'd not heeded Narinder's warning to be careful of the Bishops.

#5 (Freedom, Curiosity) The youngest vessel at 18, they were very eager to serve, but were very lax about their cult. A wildcard in battle they somehow managed to do ok against witnesses, but in the cult it was more like college students throwing a party. After 130 years they still proved just as reckless, so Narinder requested them to abdicate. They managed to calm down after and even settle down, yet after 10 years they and their new family-a husband and child, were executed. Just as #5 had realized there was something nice about a peaceful life, a former follower ratted them out.

#6 (Perfection) Another ok vessel, but highly vain. They followed Narinder's requests at first, but gradually grew more fond of gaining their own power, to the point where for 30 years managed to avoid all contact with their god. It was Red who threw a bit of a rebellion that got them back into the gateway after killing them in their sleep, and Narinder forcibly took Red back. Their own cult murdered them come morning, once they realized their 'god' was nothing more than a vain false idol-one whom had grown very fond of violence towards their own people in later years. Murder was the followings' payback. They held the crown for 135 years.

Vessels #7-#11 - Tasked with trying to kill the Bishops' following/disciples, all under STRICT orders to not engage with the gods

#7 (Lady Luck) Forneus. you know her already, but lets review. Strong sense of justice, very capable in a fight, the picture of a perfect vessel-if she wasn't just a little arrogant. Her overconfidence never hindered her however, and while he did grow uncertain about how many lovers she took it wasn't a point where Narinder felt concerned. After 80 years, however, she called out to him via the crown more serious than she'd ever been-she'd discovered that she was pregnant. A trip to the gateway could kill the unborn, and resurrections could only affect her. Having never considered raising a child she suddenly was at an impasse and unsure, yet after a long talk with Narinder kinda uncertainly giving her encouragement, she decided to take it as a sign to step back, and relinquished the crown.

#8 (Infinity) #8 was not as effective as Forneus, yet they also were highly determined to do their best no matter how many deaths they faced. Served for 40 years and only abdicated upon the realization they were outliving their loved ones. Life was infinite for them, but not their family. Died 6 years later of grief, after watching their youngest sibling die peacefully of old age. Narinder had gotten lucky with them as a note-he'd chosen them on a whim after the twins had arrived, and it was by pure chance they proved competent. They, however, never noticed the twins, they were so small and quiet.

#9 (Sorrow) #9 was genderfluid and had once been a lover, and wanted revenge for their spouse who died after stealing from Chaos' domain. Though Narinder was hesitant about another anger-fueled vessel, they begged for a second chance, and he decided to give them a try. 25 years was all they lasted, since Red reported they were becoming increasingly cruel and violent in later years and Narinder took quick action to avoid it progressing further. They were executed for murder not long after, after becoming a vigilante killing anyone who dared praise a god's name. They willfully ignored Aym and Baal out of anger for never having children of their own-and once actually lashed out at them when they'd gotten annoyed at hearing the toddlers playing. They made the twins cry about 5 years in, and while they actually did apologize after that Narinder was more wary about letting vessels interact with the twins.

#10 (Completion) Vain similar to #6, yet not to the point of selfishness. He managed a Cult just fine and was decent at combat, but he served only 30 years, however, after falling in love. He died not long after marrying though, since as he could not rely on a doctor of Pestilence's cult for assistance, his spouse could do nothing to save him after he'd fallen ill. He ignored the twins but sent food when asked-including uh...corpses. He'd been born into Heket's cult and cannibalism had been an old habit he'd never kicked. He used to hide heretic bodies in the offerings chest forgetting it was a one-way system.

#11 (Potential) Decent leader, decent fighter, served 30 years where-upon the Prophecy was heard of. During one crusade through Darkwood they managed to hear from Clauneck about it-he'd given the reading to the bishops, and while the duck typically allowed fate to pass as it desired, their discussion of executing all sheep concerned him enough to give a warning. Narinder initially wanted 11 to take on the role of mentor for this promised liberator, but 11 did not like the idea of babysitting and abdicated, leaving on poor terms for either side. As such, they did not heed Narinder's warning to be wary, and were captured and executed a few months later. They in general disliked kids, and made sure the cats were all made aware of that every visit. Aym and Baal's later hesitance towards Anthea is partially because 11 often complained about how loud/rude/annoying children were, despite Aym and Baal having only whispered to each other once or twice during a visit. Narinder had tried to convince them it was 11 who was the issue not them, but neither can really forget that and 9's previous scolding. Anthea encouraging them to talk had them a mix of surprise and a little nervous early on.

Vessel #12 - Tasked with just learning how to fight, manage a cult, and hopefully act as a bridge to pass it on to the Lamb.

#12 (Stability) Ratau was the vessel with the largest gap between him and his predecessor. 35 years separated them since Narinder spent too long trying to find someone perfect to no avail, and Ratau's anger at the Bishops, the realization that the Sheep were nearly down to 1, and the frustration of not having anyone lined up made him decide to just do it. Ratau only lasted around 10 years however, his initial rage had faded and while he was well-liked by his following he was not strong in the face of conflict, and after the Fox incident, abdicated of his own will, with Narinder simply telling him that when the Liberator arrived he'd call upon him once more. Of all former vessels Ratau was the only one who took Narinder's parting warning of the Bishops going after him seriously-he set up his lonely shack, and lined his territory with traps. The friends he'd made also proved useful, and he managed to avoid capture for the next 40 years. He did notice the twins, and actually did kinda awkwardly wave at them a few times, but Narinder's protective glaring scared him off from doing it again. Had he not Ratau honestly might've tried getting to know them since he did like children, but because he was too scared he never even looked at them after out of fear.

Anyway, thank you! Though as a note I believe it was @/waokevale who was one of the first to make Forneus a vessel, but I'm glad my work inspired you too! Forneus is such an interesting character so its fun to play with her background! :D

And cool!! As pointed out by @/parememi Forneus, Ratau, and Anthea actually line up with the perfect tarots for themselves too which was a happy little accident, (Forneus is The Chariot, Ratau The Hanged Man, and Anthea Death) but while I thus have tarot associations for them because of that, the rest just got numbers.

I went with number symbolism mostly since I see the vessels as points on a clock, with them being a countdown to the '13th Hour' of the Last Lamb-the impossible vessel not meant to survive.

Boarders are by @/lambouillet

[allyjoe755]

Family Ties Pt. 1

Benedict Bridgerton x reader (no use of y/n)

request: from @caspianobsessed, "Can u please write about benedict and sharma sister reader , she comes to visit kate and meets ben for the first time. They meet one year later during reader's season and fall in love"

WC: 1541

a/n: This was so much fun to write. I have no idea what 19th century ghost possessed me to write the dialogue like I did but I'm not mad at it. There will be a part two! I hope you enjoy. And if you would like to be tagged in any future parts, please let me know.

warnings: none

o-o-o

Love was a challenging concept, because hearts— they were fickle things.

You had realized as much after your sister, Edwina’s, first social season… where she had been courted by Viscount Bridgerton only for your eldest sister, Kate, to ultimately become his wife.

But oh, were they in love. You could see it in their eyes on their wedding day— how they stared deeply at one another, as if no one else mattered in the world, as if their entire world, indeed, was standing right in front of them.

It was beautiful. Magnificent, truly.

You could only wish that something as magical as that might befall you one day.

You were a year younger than Edwina, and as such, a year out from your societal debut. You had not been present during the social gatherings or your sisters’ time spent at Aubrey Hall– due, in part, to you traveling with some extended family or other during that time. Besides names and vague descriptions granted to you through writing and on your return, you truly did not know any of the family your sister was marrying into.

And even then, you barely met any of them on the wedding day. A quick conversation introducing you to the now Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, and a nodding of heads acknowledging a few of the girls– Francesca and Eloise?– but that was it.

Viscount Bridgerton you knew, of course, but any of the others? Perhaps on looks alone you could pick out the eight of them from a crowd, but you did not know who was who.

Maybe that was why your heart thrummed so violently in your chest as you exited the carriage and stood in front of Aubrey Hall. The unknown. Yes, you were visiting your sister, but you feared less a chance encounter with a pack of ravenous wolves than the family Bridgerton, for at least you knew what to expect with the former.

You were sure they were kind– or at least amiable, as you doubted your sister would tolerate much less join a family that was not at least one of those things. That one piece of hope allowed you to tamper your nerves enough that when you arrived at Aubrey Hall, you were able to wear a placid smile as the footman escorted you to the drawing room.

He had not even finished announcing your name when your sister stood from where she was and practically dashed over to you, enveloping you in a hug. You both laughed, and tears came to your eyes.

“My dear, sweet sister,” Kate said, her smile bright as your embrace ended. “How I have missed you.”

“I have missed you as well!” You exclaimed. “Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“Oh, none of that here.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Come. I should introduce you to everyone.”

She turned around and you now had a clearer image of the drawing room– or rather, who was in it. The Dowager Viscountess– you recognized her– stood and nodded her head to you. You nodded and curtsied in return.

One girl sat in a chair with a book in hand. She was one of the children you had met at the wedding… Eloise, you believed? Yet the others you were not sure you entirely recognized.

“At the piano is Francesca,” Kate began. “Please, do not stop playing on our account; my sister and I are both lovers of music,” she told the young woman. “Over there is Eloise, and of course you know the Dowager Viscountess… Anthony is away on some business at the moment, but should be joining us for our meal. And, of course, the duchess is not present, as she is in Hastings.

“And here,” she said, bringing you to a table toward the end of the room, “are Gregory, Benedict, Colin, and–”

“Hyacinth!” The young girl announced, standing to do a quick curtsy to you. “It is a delight to meet you; we’ve heard so many great things!”

You couldn’t help the smile that began to blossom on your face. What had you been worried for? Only a few minutes, and you could already tell they were a wonderful family. “I’m so very glad to hear it,” you returned. You looked down at the table. “What game are you all playing?”

“It is a very simple game,” Hyacinth grandly explained, “in which one seeks the highest scoring hand by trading their cards until the round is over."

You smiled. "Trade and Barter?"

"Colin says it is called Commerce in France," Hyacinth responded, "which I think is a far more clever name." She looked up at you, and you thought that if this was how all of the family was, you would like the Bridgertons very much indeed. 

"Would you care to join us?" Colin offered.

"If there is room for one more," you said.

"Of course there is room," he replied, and there was a momentary shuffling of chairs, a command for Gregory to grab another seat, and suddenly you were sat between the youngest at the table and the oldest as your sister went back to sit with her mother-in-law.

Assuming, of course, that Benedict was in fact the second oldest and Hyacinth the youngest, if their names and your common sense had anything to tell you.

Another thing your common sense told you: the Bridgertons were a beautiful family. You read Lady Whistledown, of course, and had heard of the Bridgerton good looks, but seeing them in person…

You were being ridiculous, you knew. This was your sister’s family– Kate’s family. You should not have been noticing anything besides their friendliness.

You definitely should not have been noticing how you thought Benedict the most handsome, with his chestnut hair and gleaming eyes and soft smile, or how butterflies flapped in your stomach when your seat was placed next to his, or how nice he smelled when you sat down.

It was Gregory's turn to deal. Once your cards were dealt, you picked them up, glanced at them, and held them close to your chest.

Benedict leaned toward you ever so slightly. “Be sure to keep a neutral look about you. The younger ones do have eyes like hawks about these things.”

You let out a laugh. “You must remember my sisters,” you replied. “Edwina and Kate and I have had a fair share of card games ourselves.”

And so it went like that, around the table taking turns, watching the other players in hopes that their faces would reveal their hands, with laughter echoing in the drawing room.

“How is it that we haven't met you before today?” Hyacinth asked as she scooped over the pool of coins to her personal stash.

“I was traveling with family,” you explained. “Although I was at the wedding; it was just a busy day and so we did not get to meet.

“Where did you travel to?” and “So you are not out in society yet?” were the next questions asked, by, to your surprise, Colin and Benedict respectively. They then both apologized in tandem, and you pressed your lips together to stifle a giggle.

“No, I am not out in society yet–” you answered Benedict first– “but my debut will be this next season. And we were just in the countryside, mostly, but I did think it a rather splendid trip. There were many libraries and parks where we stayed, which I thoroughly enjoyed.”

“You enjoy reading?” Benedict asked yet another question, and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you were giddy by it.

“I would say that I rather enjoy all the arts,” you said. “Reading, writing, music… I can play the pianoforte, but not nearly as well as your sister. Her mastery is a true gift.”

“And what about visual arts?” Colin asked. “Drawings and paintings and sculptures… are you a fan of those as well?”

You nodded. “Of course. I was told there were great art exhibits in London. My mother and I are planning on visiting some of them when we are there for my season.”

“Perhaps Benedict could join you!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “He is a lover of art. In fact, he is quite the artist himself. He was a student at the Royal Academy of Art.”

Benedict let out a rather awkward laugh, and you felt your face grow flush. Hyacinth did not know what she was proposing– but a debutante and a bachelor on an outing, during the social season?

It was preposterous, and suggestive, and almost romantic.

Yet you loved the idea of it.

“A student?” You said, hoping to ignore Hyacinth’s other comment and continue with the conversation. “You must have very nice work.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he quickly responded, and then cleared his throat. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment before you both looked away.

“It might be time for our meal soon,” Colin announced, standing up from his seat and saving you and his brother from any more embarrassment. “Hyacinth?”

“Yes, brother?”

“We shall leave it up to Benedict and our guest to determine what they would like to do during the social season.” He began towards the door, opened it, and turned to address the rest of the group. “Shall we?”

[kloofspeaks]

The Creation of a Physical Copy of Coming Home (But Not to You) - The complete summary

Since, I promised I would update this as soon as I started working on it and boy, has it been several hours of me trying to learn how to use Microsoft word, hundreds of songs in my Jayvik playlist and perhaps, a small minor emotional breakdown. I have gotten Coming Home (But Not to You) formatted for bookbinding.

I hope @lesbianherald knows that they have not only written about 678 pages of a glorious and beautiful story but when in book format, that comes out to be 340 pages which is bigger than Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare (which.. you out wrote him twice). I swear, I promised to update you and that’s literally all I have besides a minor practice signature before I venture out to find a book suitable to hold the piece and paper that looks a tad more vintage.

The first draft pages in word looked like this, this was also MY final concept before I went out of my way to make a little page design in procreate. (Featured later)

The Artist featured also gave me permission to use this for this personal project. Please, check them out with this link here: X (their art is gorgeous)

[Written January 3rd, 2025]

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Okay, we’ve settled on some covers. Might be wondering why I didn’t want to make one from scratch? I didn’t want to weather it, personally. It’s a lot more work and the threading and binding itself is going to take most of my time. I’m working on A4 (Actually, it ended up being smaller than A4 at about 11 by 8.25 but when folded it’s 5.5 by 8.25) paper format, having to adjust my measurements as we go because they were drastically different in the word document. I edited some of the features of the pages and actually sketched out a design for my Cricut to use for the cover and chapter page emblems for just a little personal flare!

I actually went to the thrift store and broke apart books that werent in use to provide me a proper book board because the ones I had were too thick! Reuse and recycle, baby! (All for the power of Jayvik)

A little thing about this project is that I actually bought weathered paper for this! Yeah, that.. it didn’t end up coming LMAO. I did buy some book corners for some metal flare. The hexcore design I drew out, myself, in procreate and also cut out in Cricut (thank you, TikTok tutorials).

A little fact as well; I haven’t bookbinded in 3 years! My books when I started were actually GOD awful— which is also part of why I chose a base book frame because that was my biggest weakness when it came to this. The binding itself was actually the easiest part to me when I started! I kid you not, I did very much come out of retirement because of Jayvik. I wanted a physical book I could mark and leave notes on, so why not make it myself? I’m extremely thankful, I got permission to do this and plan on doing this with another one of my favorite Jayvik fanfictions once it is completed, so perhaps… maybe. I don’t know, after I had gotten all the signatures out I had realized that the book covers used WERE TOO SMALL! This is the book before pressing for over 48 hours and in a middle of a snowstorm!

[Written on January 6th, 2025]

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And the book is binded! I had used wax thread which is already thicker and way more durable and actually made for bookbinding. It has already had about two layers of glue on the binding but I tend to do about four just for extra strength and protection. It should be going in the book in about a day or two, which will lead to the final update of this!

It took me about three well-spread out days, six hours of actual sewing and teaching myself how to use a curved needle without violently stabbing my skin but I was able to get the box-stitch in.. I tried to even out the layers as I had binded too fast in one part and two signatures ended up being uneven, whoops. I fixed that with a tap of a literal hammer (No pun intended) but this was truly an experience. The parts with the open black page on front is when the stitching was glued and the book pages were placed on. This also meant I had the actual book for it to sit in ready. Which was crazy to think about.

Would you believe me if I told you I measured this all by eye and had to cut the pages four different ways to make this book actually become a book. The next paragraphs will be glamor shots. Thank you for sticking with me— encouraging me on this because of my LACK of experience in this entire field and prayers for my poor fingers.

[Written on January 13th, 2025]

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And we’re here, it’s finished and settled. Here are the glamor shots. I do plan on doing more bookbinding in the future as I DID enjoy the process but folding and making signatures will forever be my enemy. Here’s the glamor shots and underneath the cut is all my reactions and build up to finishing this monster of a book.

A couple things, I never want to do this again. If I ever do a fanfiction THIS big again. I’m spilting it into two books, perhaps even three depending on how big it is. The symbol on the front is the Piltover symbol, I tried to find Jayce’s Talis house symbol and THERES NOTHING, I literally tried drawing and everything. My Cricut didn’t want to cut it and trust me, I tried for over three hours with the symbol.

What only matters is that I think it’s cute. I think the simplicity and mix of tears added to the final design a lot more than I thought it would.

If I ever do this again. (Knowing me, I will.) I plan on revisiting this, probably make another version when I have more bookbinding knowledge under my belt LMAO, but enjoy this lengthy post. I’m now going to go to bed.

Also huge shout out to my Zelda art book for being my primary book press for this entire thing. I really need a book press.

[Finished, January 14th at 12:08 AM, 2025]

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[thegrinningghost]

Th𝓮 Hig𝓱 Guar𝓭

Do you ever think about the High Guard, and wonder how many of them had conjunxes or sparklings? How many had friends, family; how many loved someone but were too scared to confess. How many never wanted anything with romance, but had close mentor-like bonds with those younger and older than them. Do you ever think about those bots, and wonder if they ever joined the High Guard, too? Or perhaps they stayed and worked for their cause in another way. Maybe whole trines would join, by force or choosing. Do you ever think about how often those bots would pray and wish for the High Guard to return safely after every battle? How they realized it was a noble cause, but hated the danger it put those they knew into. Do you ever think about how, one battle, the High Guard didn’t return? And the Primes were dead. And everybody knew that, but nobody knew how, and nobody knew where the High Guard went. Nobody knew if they died. Nobody asked, but they wondered. And slowly, those courageous bots became mere myth. Do you ever think about how often their story got told? How it may have been passed down through generation, or told on the off-chance someone brought up the Primes. Do you ever think about the High Guard, who, despite their cruel behavior and stern words, maybe really just wanted to go home? How they were stuck in hiding for years, longing to see or just be able to say goodbye to all they used to know. Do you ever think about how the first time the High Guard got to go home was cut short? Do you ever wonder how those they loved felt, seeing them fight only to hail some false, violent leader, and fly off with no words to be spared? Do you ever wonder if the High Guard regretted that day, or even the day they decided to join the military ranks beneath the Primes? Do you ever think about how the first and last time they got to be with the people they loved, was fighting against a system? Do you ever wonder if, during that battle, they ever truly saw those bots, or if they remained clueless to what happened after they disappeared? Do you ever think about what Orion said to D-16? How he should take the High Guard and leave. Do you ever wonder if some of the High Guard didn’t want to follow anyone anymore, but were forced to because of their exile? Do you ever wonder if it was because Orion knew they’d follow power, and couldn’t trust them? Do you ever wonder if the hatred that they built up over the years was more for their loss of choice than it was for believing in any sort of cause? How Sentinel took it, and Orion, and then Megatron. Do you ever think about how some of them may have wanted to leave? But they couldn’t. Because they probably had seen what D-16 did to Starscream and Sentinel. They likely saw what he still does to Starscream. And it would be too much of a risk, but they longed to have that freedom to choose again. They longed to be far away from the leading front of a war. Do you ever think about how the High Guard left for war, hid, slaughtered, and then fought in more wars? Do you wonder if the High Guard ever got a moment of peace? Do you ever wonder if that only came to those who died, and if those still living will ever get it? Do you think the High Guard deserves to finally feel peace? Do you ever think about all these warriors, later named the Decepticons? Do you ever wonder about everything we know about them, and all that we don’t? Do you ever think about how much their numbers dwindled? Do you ever think about the lives they led before, and the lives they could’ve had? Do you ever wonder about the High Guard?

Because I sure do.

[copinghex]

Delirium | T.S

Summary: Thomas pays a last visit to the woman he always had a thing for | dark!AU and 🔞

A/N: This makes me feel like a nasty hoe, I just wanted to write smut with a Tommy who's obsessed but not violent, if that makes sense 🥴

Warning: Tommy being delusional 

The kitchen felt warmer than it probably was, Tommy's presence scared her, especially in moments they were alone.

Of course, her husband's presence wouldn't make a huge difference, he was a humble civilian and Tommy could pull out a gun on him at any moment. She preferred to meet in public spaces, where she'd be able to call for help.

He sat at the table, sipping on his tea with disturbing peace, as if he was the man of the house.

“Tommy,” she gulped, leaning on the counter far from him, “my husband will be home soon, so if you don't have anything to say-”

‘I thought I gave this house to you,” he interrupted.

“Y-yes, but he lives here too,” 

“Lucky, ain't he?” he nodded, the glassy look in his eyes scared her, “I gave you this place in consideration for you and the baby and he gets to decide who visits,”

“We know how lucky we are for having your sympathy,” 

“Sympathy,” he scoffed.

Lowering her head, she got ready for what seemed to be another one of his episodes. After every single one, she regretted the day she stepped into his family's betting shop looking for a job. After that, she never had peace.

People said after the war Thomas chose to be alone, she saw it differently, he was always surrounded by whores and flirting with the newcomer barmaid. Every now and then, he invited her to dates. Surely he wasn't a man she'd call lonely.

By then, his behavior didn't bother her, Small Heath was full of perverts and womanizers. He was just another one of them until he started to chase her. 

Even with his aunt's insistence for her to give him a chance, she paid him no mind, thinking Polly only favored her so he'd forget the barmaid who was later revealed to be a cop. Also, she heard he had an affair with his secretary and wooed his horse trainer, all while flirting with her and promising the world if she gave in. 

When Thomas got married, she swore things would get better, he'd leave her alone and wouldn't be in the betting shop as often. What an awful prevision. In a matter of weeks, he forbade his employees from dating, although she liked to think it was only because of business, she thought the order was way too strict.

Then the worst phase came, widowed Thomas was clingy, forceful, controlling and manipulative. His sad blue eyes would convince her of anything - or almost anything, the bedroom's part, she left for Lizzie - it was when she realized that for him to forget about her, she had to leave him. A new job should be enough.

One day after she resigned, he knocked on her door, asking all the reasons why she wasn't part of the company anymore and promising he'd stop chasing her. What a fool she was for believing. Thomas didn't stop flirting. He only changed his methods. Every week, she'd find a small - or a huge - gift by her desk.

Years went by and she moved on, Thomas became a permanent hurdle she chose to ignore. Nowadays, they were both married and with children, though sometimes he'd still remind her that if she wanted him, he'd be there.

“...do you want to talk?” she asked, perhaps with the death of his daughter he wanted consolation.

“Do I scare you?”

“No, hm,” she lied, his question surprised her, “a bit, sometimes, but mostly no,” 

“It came to me last night, perhaps I scared you, that's why you never wanted me,” 

“Tommy-”

“Y’know, some nights- many nights,” he wasn't looking at her, with his distant eyes and head low, she knew it'd be better to let him finish his monolog, “you were all I thought about, no shovels, no curses, just you, my wife,” 

“What?” she was shocked, but it didn't matter, he wasn't listening.

“We'd make love every night before going to sleep and I'd find out everything, what you like, what you don't,” he sighed, “and the rest wouldn't fucking matter, it'd be just you and me,” 

Finally, he looked at her waiting for an answer. She, on the other hand, didn't know what to say.

“Tommy, perhaps-” she started, “you know I have much respect for you, but also for Mrs. Shelby and my husband, so perhaps it's time you let go of this infatuation for me,” 

“Is this what you think it is? Infatuation?” 

“I-”

“Sometimes I thought of forcing you,” he confessed, “after everything I gave you it'd be fair, wouldn't it? To take something back, but that was the problem, I never wanted to fuck you, I wanted you to want me, sounds stupid now, eh?” 

“Why did you come here tonight?” after his speech, she was desperate for him to leave. 

“To tell you you'll finally have what you wanted, I won't bother you anymore,” he explained, “I'm sick,”

“With what?” 

“Tuberculoma,” 

All she did was stare, Thomas Shelby, the man who survived poverty, war and a dangerous career choice was killing himself from inside out. The worst part of her was relieved, the best felt bad for him.

“What about your son?” she mumbled.

“He's in good hands,” 

“Well, hm, I'm sorry,”

“Are you?”

Tommy finished his tea in a big gulp. His posture told her his objective wasn't done yet. Of course not, he always had an A on his sleeve.

“There's another reason why I came here tonight,” he admitted, “I'm gonna ask you something in good faith,” 

“Yes?”

“Grant me a last wish, all I ever wanted,” 

“What is it?” she tensed up.

“Sleep with me, as if we were husband and wife,” he pleaded, blown out eyes fixed on her.

“What?! I can't!” 

“Why not?”

“Because I'm married! We both are!” 

“Me? I'm not anymore,” 

“We can't, Tommy,”

“Please, not one has to know,” never in her life, she thought she'd see him beg, “first and last time,”

Again, she was speechless, guilty for considering giving in to him, but wouldn't it be merciful? Before she decided, he walked to her, cupping her face between his hands.

His lips met her cheek, gently kissing her, she barely believed when he started to smell her. For him, it was the best scent he ever felt.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed him to keep going only to see how far he'd go. His palm was warm and easily covered half her face, his kisses went down her neck, different from what she was used to, her husband was sweet, Tommy was intense, drinking her in like a starving man.

He brought her closer, holding her waist with a strong grip. From that distance, she smelled the lingering cologne underneath the cigarette scent. The warmth from his skin gave her unwanted shivers.

Naively, she rested her hands on his back, it was all he needed to lift her to the counter, sitting her down and standing between her legs. As if she got out of trance, she pushed him away.

“Tommy,” she used a leg to create distance, foot well positioned on his chest, “we can't,” 

She expected him to retaliate, his fast breath and dilated eyes made her feel like a prey, he was the predator about to pounce. Instead, he took her foot into his hands, slowly kissing the way up her legs. She had all the time in the world to stop him, but her body froze with his affections.

Once he reached her thigh, Tommy put his head under her skirt, she felt his rough fingers undo her stockings and obliged, lifting her hips for him to pull her panties down. 

With his breath against her cunt, she held tightly to the counter, the surface was cold in her warm hands. He parted her inner lips with his tongue, making her jump slightly.

The foreign feeling brought excitement to her core, weak moans poured from her lips as Tommy sucked her clit.

Lifting her skirt, she ran a hand through his hair, he lowly hummed, burying his face further between her legs before standing up, starting a greedy kiss.

Through the desperate yearning, he was gentle, cupping her face and giving her little pecks every time she ran out of breath. She took his coat off and held onto him, from his waistcoat texture it must've been extremely expensive. 

Touching his thin body, few ribs could be counted even if she'd still consider him strong. Tommy started unbuttoning her dress and she stopped him.

“Like man and wife, you said?”

Excitement built in Tommy's chest, she'd be finally his, the idea got him hard as a rock. With a last peck on his lips, she guided him upstairs, avoiding looking at her family pictures. They made her feel bad.

Through the hallway, he stopped and stared at her daughter's bedroom's door, highlighted by the lilac color contrasting with the rest of white ones, “What's her name again?” 

“Agatha,” 

He sighed, picturing a little girl with her eyes, who'd play near the canal with Ruby, Charlie and Duke. She'd watch them from far, the three sweetest girls he ever met, that sounded like heaven, a heaven he'd never reach.

Pulling him to the guest room, she sat him on the bed, the spare, impersonal mattress that'd be ruined by her infidelity. As she straddled his lap, Tommy spread kisses on her chest, her head fell back from pleasure, body warming up to him.

As tempting as melting into his arms was, she wanted to give him an experience, something slow and intimate, between those four walls there was no unreciprocated love or unfaithfulness, only the two of them. 

She cupped his face and touched their foreheads together, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his waistcoat, “Tell me about your day,” 

“I'm glad it's already over,” he drawled, hands traveling through her back.

“Did you miss me?” she held a giggle at his unnecessary tie clip, he probably urged to show the world he could afford one. 

“I-” he gulped when she put the small golden clip between her lips, “did,” 

Fully undressing wasn't sexy like in books she'd read before, she had to stand up and got particularly shy while Tommy watched. However, she managed to get a few chuckles while taking the boots off his feet.

“I can tell,” with him brushing on her thigh, she got rid of his clothing and pushed him down the mattress. His eyes shone at the view of her on top of him, hands gripping on her dress as a silent request to take it off.

Playfully, she threw her last piece of clothing at him, a wool stocking far from being sexy. With a small smile, he pulled her back to bed, climbing on top of her in a swift move. His hands grabbed her waist while his face was buried on her neck, between kisses and bites, she could tell he was overwhelmed.

Wrapping her legs around him, she called his name in a whisper, Tommy lifted his head getting face to face with her and for a moment, it'd be foolish to deny he looked beautiful, lips swollen, hazed eyes and blushy cheeks fitting perfectly into his features.

The gray hair growing on his shaved sides caught her attention, a sign of how long he'd been pinning for her. She had seen him go from bookmaker to member of parliament, from a man who always wore the same three fancy suits to a man who could gift a house and yet, to her, Thomas Shelby was nothing but a pretty painting, something to admire, but never to hold dear.  

“What?” he noticed he was being observed.

“Nothing, can't I just look at you?” 

He squinted, lightly squeezing her cheeks together. She tensed up, realizing how vulnerable she was lying naked under him.

“Tom?” she feared some sudden change of demeanor.

His previous kindness suddenly vanished, Tommy kissed her hungrily and her body betrayed her, surrendering completely, urging to become one with him.

A tiny moan was all to be heard when he slid into her, then the bed started to crackle and the impact of his thrusts mixed with their heavy breaths. 

She tried to pull his head to her shoulder in an intimate embrace, he didn't let her, holding her hands above her head, “Want to look at you,”

The admission put a smile on her face, besides everything Tommy was sweet, certainly not like she imagined a gangster would be in bed. 

Between sloppy kisses, he freed one of her hands that she took to his back, his skin was soft, the only bumps were the scars he got in war and business, still, it was nothing she'd consider imperfections, it all added deepness to the artwork he was.

Freeing her other hand, she hugged him closer, the sudden pull disturbed his steady pace and she giggled at the surprised huff he let out.

Tommy Shelby wasn't a man to be vulnerable often, to see him make such noises or show desperate desire was more intimate than all the years she spent with her own husband. She wanted to see more.

The question crossed her lips before she could consider any further consequences, “Do you love me, Tommy?” 

He swallowed, gripping on her legs and pounding into her harder, “I do, fuck, I do, I love you,” 

Squeezing her eyes shut, her back arched from a consuming orgasm. Tommy's name filled the room in loud moans as her nails sank in his back.

After few more thrusts, he poured inside her. Tommy rested his forehead on hers and they breathed heavily. With mind foggy and his gentle caresses on her head, she didn’t hear steps on the other side of the door.

Hard knocks on the door made her freeze inside, Tommy had a tiny smirk on his face while her husband called from outside, “What the fuck is going on in there?!”