#but he'd have made a fine thrall

[bookerdwitt]

also overwatch is crossing over with wow rn and let me tell you if i never get litch king reinhardt im blowing up blizzard hq

[pacentia]

Title: Forever

Summary: After BG3 events, Astarion and reader feel ready for a child.

Pairing: established relationship fem!reader x Astarion

Tags: NSFW, rough sex, sweetness, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, bloodsucking, kissing, L-bombs

Word count: 1,704

Note: listen up folks. no idea if vampires thralls can make people pregnant. but in my world they can. Pls enjoy. i haven't finished the game, so this is my own fantasy after bg3 events:)). Drabble/fic/headcanon requests about our darling husband are welcome :))

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and eventually months into years, together with your darling Astarion. After the events of tadpoles, mindflayers and vampire masters, the time had come to settle down and live quietly, close to Baldur's gate city. Close enough for easy supply runs, yet far enough to enjoy the privacy of your very own house. Astarion was quick to realize he'd want no one else in his eternal life but you - and asked you - on one knee - to be his forever.

The wedding was held shortly after, with only a close circle of your friends present. Karlach shed a tear from happiness - knowing you two were destined to be together, while Halsin felt just… Bittersweet. Astarion wed a fine woman, although he was secretly convinced that an Druid like himself: alive, warm, and aging could take better care of your needs.

This was often also the subject of certain discussions that popped up in your marriage as you were reading in the garden, or drinking hot tea beside the hearthfire. Worries that washed over him about the coldness of his touch - or the eventual loss he would have to endure somewhere in the far future, when you would eventually lose the battle against time. You understood where his worries came from, but you were always there to comfort your darling husband. You possessed no interest in anyone's touch but his and you pledged to him that you'd always be present in his undead heart.

Of course, the latter made you interested in if his vampirism could be cured or, if you could transform into one. Yet, both choices were frustratingly impossible. Curing him would just mean ending him, heaven's forbid. Transforming yourself would mean serving another vampire lord, a fate that Astarion would never want you to experience.

Though tonight - nothing of that sort mattered and you found yourself intertwined in one another, the soft duvet covering your bare bodies. Your fingers played with his light-grey curls, while his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, ready for bed.

"Say, love," Astarion suddenly spoke up, "I heard you took care of a lost little girl in the city today."

Right. A young Tiefling girl had lost her mother inbetween the packed crowds of the city, and the girl came to you for help. How exactly did Astarion know that?

"Karlach told me of course." The vampire stated as a matter of fact. "She saw you and passed by this noon for tea." You nodded and explained the situation - how you held the little girl's hand right until you found her mother together. The woman thanked you over and over again.

A small silence fell between you two, until the man continued his stream of thoughts, "Karlach then asked me if we'd ever have children and I said that I didn't know what you would think of it and I -" Astarion's gaze avoided yours until he remembered he was probably rambling again, "Sorry love, I just wanted to know if you and I could have that sort of future together?"

Your heart fluttered at the thought of Astarion as a father. He'd definitely spoil his little ones and love them unconditionally.

"A little one to raise in our house." The pale man smiled, lost in his thoughts. "We already have a spare room that we could decorate for them."

Of course those thoughts had crossed your mind. It would be a new chapter in both of your lives, and you felt ready to take it on together with him. Behind his cheeky and often sarcastic banter, there was a sweet and caring man - only revealed to the closest ones he trusted.

"You know they'll be incredibly mischievous and stubborn, right?" You smirked up at him, to which the vampire quickly retaliated, "Darling, you wound me. Besides, that's why you're there to teach them kindness." Astarion sing-songed, nuzzling into your hair.

No hesitation was present in your words, '"Of course, Astarion. I want this with you." You smiled sweetly, gently guiding his cold digits over your belly, making your vampire husband rub it with such fondness.

Something within him stirred, yet another level of deeper protectiveness that he would soon feel over you. Any other man that would come too close to you, would feel his deadly fangs buried into their jugular. Rip them to shreds. Kill them in cold blood. In fact, it made him involuntarily bare his fangs to you, accompanied by a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You grinned at his primal reaction, and whispered as you caressed his chin, "Dear Sir, you know you can't drink anything from me when you've put your little one in me, right?"

He was taken by a frenzy, and rolled his heavy body over yours - his nose buried into your neck, inhaling the delicious smell of your perfect blood. His cock hardened at the thought of drinking from you, his icy tongue lapping over the countless bite marks that he'd decorated your neck with.

"I know, sweet love. Sadly, I'll have to return to …inferior blood." An adorable pout covered his beautiful features - which made your heart flutter.

"You should get to work then, my love." You whispered in his pointy ear, pressing small kisses along his cheekbone, and you wrapped your legs around his strong back. The vampire chuckled at your words, "Oh, darling." He groaned, elated to see you so eager to get bred by him. His hardness teased over your wet and warm folds, making himself slick before he'd slide home. His arms snaked under yours, to completely wrap himself around you protectively, burying his face into your neck. The intoxicating smell of your blood so close to his lips, made him lose control over his pace and bucked his strong core into yours, drenched cock sliding deep in your sex.

"Fuck, Astarion…" You gasped in pleasure, his large cock burying itself deep deep deep within your folds. The vampire watched your features contort into pure bliss, and bit his lips in return - until he was nestled as deep as possible.

"This is what you want, isn't it, my darling?" Astarion whispered, while you clawed at his back - sweet agony from his pressure on your cervix. His way with words was too much to bear. Icy lips found your ear again, dripping with sin, "Completely inside your warm, wet, delicious cunt."

You could only whimper Astarion and nod, your fingers buried in his soft curls, as his hips started to gently, slowly thrust inside you. His cock felt so perfect. Big, firm, as if he was carved just for you.

"Fuck, darling," Your husband growled, losing himself deep inside you, speeding up his pace, shifting his position so that he could hold onto your hips for leverage. His red eyes feasted on your body, the most beautiful creature he'd ever set his gaze on. He could hear your heart beating faster. Blood pumping through your veins. Cheeks flushed red. He was salivating for you.

"Please, Astarion…" You cried out in delicious agony, needy for him to grab and fuck you harder. Impregnate you. Show Faerûn that you completely belong to him.

"What is it, my love?" He growled with bared teeth, sounds of wet, sloppy thrusts filling the bedroom.

"Bite me once more." You begged, holding onto his strong shoulders, "Just one last time, please."

Yes. One more time he could have you. His sanguine hunger kicked in, and he couldn't restrain himself anymore, "Oh my, darling…" He moaned In relief, his thrusts never faltering, thanking you over and over again for your gift - until he set his fangs in your neck.

One last time that sharp, ice-cold feeling washed over your senses - unable to move or do anything. Delicious pain mixed with heavenly pleasure, both of your orgasms were nearing. No combination more delicious for your husband - your fresh blood spilling from his lips and your cunt wrapped tightly around him. Pleasure welled up inside of your belly, enduring your vampire's violent kiss - until you reached your peak while he drank from your neck.

His digits dug into the sheets, pupils dilated as he released from your neck in time, overcome with adrenaline and power.

"That's it, my darling…"

His thrusts became harder, faster - his bloody lips finding yours, tongue invading your mouth. You were absolutely spent already, having lost nearly two pints of your blood again - so you held onto him for dear life. The metallic taste of your blood made you nearly gag if he wasn't lapping it up off your lips like a hungered animal.

"Astarion, fuck… Make me fucking pregnant." You cried desperately against his lips, his big cock bumping against your cervix with each thrust. And like always, he delivered your plea - and with a deep and primal groan he reached his peak. "Fuck, oh - Fuck - darling!" He growled with bloody fangs, his crimson eyes rolling in the back of his head, jets of his release splattering right against your cervix. Filled up to the brim.

Sated with blood and pleasure, he collapsed on top of you, holding you dearly in the afterglow of your pleasure. Sweaty, bloody bodies pressed against each other. His face buried against the side of your neck, lapping remnants of your blood one last time.

"Can't get enough of it, can't you, sweet?" You grinned.

"Never, my love." He smiled against your flesh as his cold hand gently caressed your lower belly - hoping that his love would nestle itself deep inside of you tonight.

"I love you, Astarion."

"And I love you, my darling. Forever."

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 56: Jessica's Soiree

Previous > Masterlist > Next

September 1905

tw: mind control, dehumanization, slavery, blood drinking, assault

Fitz couldn't stop fidgeting with his mask. He'd adorned both his and Lex's masks with as many sequins and feathers as he could fit, procured under protest by Lex, who insisted that neither of them should stand out.

Ever since he'd given in to his desire for Lex, life had become far more interesting and rewarding. As soon as they had realized there was no need to pretend to be aloof, they spent the night entangled in each other more often than not, an arrangement that suited Fitz just fine. Fitz draped himself across Lex's lap while reading, allowed himself to be held close to the vampire's chest while sleeping, distracted Lex with his hands while he played the piano, accepted blissful shoulder rubs accompanied by cold lips trailing down his neck.

Fitz felt more comfortable with himself than he had in a long time. Lex seemed greatly cheered by it, as well, despite his dangerous ongoing quest to enthrall hunters weighing on his mind. He smiled more, spent more time with his music. He never seemed to miss an opportunity to run his fingers through Fitz's hair or nuzzle into the nape of his neck, looking at Fitz as if he was the eighth wonder of the world, a sight Fitz never tired of.

Tonight, though, Lex was more nervous than he'd been in some time. "You really don't have to accompany me to this, Fitz," he said. "It's going to be unpleasant, and you may see things you'd consider distasteful."

"How many people ever get the chance to attend a vampire's ball -- well, and still be in their right minds? I couldn't possibly miss it. Besides, don't you want to show me off in front of everyone?"

"No," said Lex firmly. "As much as I'd love to display you to the world, vampires' envy is a dangerous thing. If any vampire there dare lay hands on you -- well. Try to be careful, for both of our sakes, will you?"

Fitz grinned. "You know me. I'm always careful."

They arrived at the ballroom a little past nine. The masquerade ball was an annual affair run by several old and fashionable vampires of the city. According to Lex, anyone who was anyone in vampire society was expected to be there, and bring their high-class thralls with them as though they were prized pets at a dog show. Fitz was eager to see what the upper crust of vampire society was like, and untroubled by Lex's warnings. He knew how to conduct himself at a ball, and had an unusual appetite for the distasteful. Lex seemed like a sensitive soul for a vampire, so to speak, so Fitz found it hard to take his warnings completely seriously.

Lex only hesitated slightly before pushing the door open. The ballroom was full of mingling vampires dressed in expensive, dazzling costumes, a sea of rainbow colors and intricate lace and ornate embroidery and glittering gemstones.

It didn't take long for Fitz to see the distasteful sights Lex had warned him about. Scanning the room, he saw that while some thralls were walking beside their masters freely, like he was, many more were entrapped in some obvious way. They were dressed in costumes as elaborate as their masters', with bindings made of silk ribbon and golden handcuffs encrusted in jewels. All of the thralls' costumes revealed their necks, and most revealed much more. Most were kneeling beside their vampire masters, looking demurely at the ground or staring blankly into space as the vampires laughed and talked. There were a few humans chained to the wall, with dazed expressions and fresh wounds on their necks. Fitz watched as a vampire approached one and sunk her fangs in, realizing that these humans were the refreshments.

The sight of the enthralled humans should have repulsed him, but he couldn't fight the confusing swirl of feelings in his heart as he watched a handsome young man, wearing only shorts and and a jeweled leash, gazing up at his master with entranced adoration. The thought of serving Lex so completely was terrifying and enticing in turn, and Fitz had to look away.

"Welcome, esteemed sir." A hypnotized human approached Lex as he stepped into the room, her vacant, lidded eyes barely able to focus as she curtsied low. "May I please interest you in an hors d'oeuvre?"

Lex glanced at Fitz. "It's… polite to partake, when offered," he said apologetically. He took the thrall's chin in his hand, looked her in the eye, and hummed a simple tune of obedience and pleasure. The thrall's eyes dulled further, accompanied by a dazed smile, and she let out a soft sound of pleasure as Lex sipped from the wound on his neck.

As Fitz's conflicting thoughts intensified, he doubted for the first time his decision to accompany Lex here.

"Oh my! Is that Mr. Alexander I see?" called a woman's voice. As Lex let the hors d'oeuvre thrall go on his way, they were approached by a woman in an elaborate dress of fine pink silk, decorated with silk flowers and rhinestones. Everything from her hair to her mask to her shoes seemed carefully considered and smacked of money and taste. A delicate golden leash allowed her to pull along a stupefied-looking young man with exceptionally handsome features and an equally gaudy gown. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Good evening, Lady Jessica," said Lex politely. "I appreciate your invitation. It seems you've outdone yourself this time. The ballroom is impeccable."

"Oh, I have. Wait until you hear the music I've hired -- it's enough to please even the most particular of music lovers, I should hope." She turned to Fitz with an eager gleam in her eye. "And what is this pretty little thing?"

"My name is Fitz, sir," he interjected just as Lex went to speak for him.

"Oh, my. So adorable and so bold! Mr. Alexander, I'd heard you had acquired quite the thrall for yourself, but if I had realized he was this irresistible, I would have surely stopped by your manor. I can't believe you were keeping something this delightful all cooped up in your dusty old library."

"Yes, I purchased him at the last major auction," said Lex stiffly.

Before Fitz could protest being treated like a show pony, Lady Jessica stepped closer to him and all of his protests… and thoughts… slowed… down.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing?" said Lady Jessica, ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead.

"Sweet…" Fitz murmured in a daze, swaying gently as Lady Jessica pawed at him. His own thoughts felt like soap bubbles, empty and popping as soon as he tried to grasp at them, replaced with simpler, honeyed images of subservience.

"You'd look so darling if only I could dress you. I can think of at least half a dozen outfits in my thralls' wardrobe that would look just perfect on you," she cooed. "Perhaps your master would arrange a trade for my thrall? Just for a weekend, perhaps?"

A sense of alarm tried to penetrate the cotton candy that clouded Fitz's mind. "No, I…" he said, trying to explain, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. "…I want Master. I want to serve my Master."

"Aww! How absolutely precious!"

Lex stepped between Fitz and Lady Jessica, and Fitz mercifully felt his head start to clear. "I'm afraid that Fitz is not for sale or trade, for any price or any length of time."

"You're no fun," said Lady Jessica with a mock pout. "It's hardly fair of you to keep this thrall to yourself. But I understand. If he were mine, I wouldn't let a single soul touch him either."

"I'm glad we understand each other," said Lex. "If you'll excuse me, I see an old dear friend that I'd like to say hello to."

Fitz shook his head, coming back to his senses. "What the hell was that? What did she do to me?"

"Oh, that was Lady Jessica. Her aura basically removes human intelligence. Sorry you got caught in that -- she's the hostess of this party so I had to be polite and make small talk, you know."

"There sure is a lot of required decorum for this vampire soiree," grumbled Fitz, still smarting from embarrassment. "I confess I expected vampires to be a bit more… freewheeling. Hedonistic."

"This is a gathering of powerful and rich vampires, and you don't become a powerful and rich vampire overnight. All of the vampires here have lived many decades, if not a century or more, and are very stuck in their ways. Even the hedonism has a dozen layers of social rules underpinning it."

Lex was approaching a vampire who was very practically attired compared to everyone else, with a plain blue afternoon dress and a simple black domino mask with a single feather. She was accompanied by a similarly dressed woman in her thirties or so. "Good evening, Edith. Good evening, Katherine. I'd like to introduce you to my… companion, Fitz." He turned to Fitz. "Dr. Edith is an old friend of mine. Her thrall, Katherine, has been with her for… what is it now?"

"About ten years," said Katherine. Fitz was relieved to see that Katherine wasn't visibly restrained or dazed in any way, simply standing next to her master and observing the crowd.

"Charmed to meet you," said Fitz. "Ten years is quite a long time to serve a vampire."

"With any luck, it'll be ten years more," she replied.

"Alexander, I'm so glad you have a thrall again after what happened to poor Edmund. I only wish I could have done more for him," said Edith.

"It wasn't your fault. You did what you could," said Alexander. "Say, I wanted to ask you how Evelyn's oldest is holding up, after her bout with the flu…"

The two vampires began chatting about names that Fitz had never heard, Katherine chiming in at points. Ordinarily, Fitz would try to involve himself in the conversation, ingratiating himself to anyone new he meets, but he found himself constantly distracted from the dull chit-chat by the uneasy but alluring soiree. Here were a couple of vampires laughing and talking while sipping from bloodied thralls. Here was a woman wearing little more than a collar and mask, kneeling on the floor and doing tricks for for her master. Here was an eerie pair of identical twins with identical blank expressions, chained together with intricate bonds.

His attention was drawn by a nearby group loosely surrounding a vampire in a very old-fashioned suit, at least a century out of date. The vampire was slowly swinging an ornate pocket watch in front of a young man's face, like a mesmerist from a vaudeville show. The unfortunate young man was swaying along with the watch, eyelids heavy and drooping, his jaw slack as a bit of drool dripped from his mouth and onto the floor.

He couldn't take his eyes off the man.

No, he couldn't take his eyes off the watch.

The way it flashed… its weight… its rhythm… he just needed to watch it… watch it swing… watch it sway… back and forth…

He needed to get closer…

He needed to watch… needed to sleep… needed to obey…

"Hey, watch where you're going, human!"

Fitz was shaken from his unexpected trance state when he accidentally collided with a large and angry-looking vampire in a poorly tailored suit. He looked around and realized that he couldn't see Lex -- he'd wandered off and been separated from his port in the storm.

"You're not with anyone," said the vampire. "Are you a refreshment boy? Finally, some decent blood."

The vampire leaned in with intent to feed, and Fitz found himself filled with an invasive and uncomfortable aura, rooting him to the spot and dazing his mind even as it felt like bugs crawling beneath his skin. Even as he screamed at himself to flee, his conditioning looped its invisible chains around him, keeping him frozen and silent. He existed to serve vampires, to be obedient to their wills. The desire to submit began to drag his consciousness under, as he slowly tilted his neck…

You're mine, he heard Lex sing in his mind, as he had on so many nights. Mine and no one else's.

"No!" he said, snapping himself out of it and pushing the unwanted vampire away. "I'm not a buffet item for your enjoyment, sir. And if you'll excuse me, I'm heading back to find my master."

Before Fitz could turn away, the front of his dress was pulled into an iron grip, enough that he was almost lifted off the ground. "How dare a mere thrall takes that tone with me. Your master must be a half-wit or a weakling, because they neglected to teach you how to behave around your superiors."

As usual, Fitz's mouth opened before he could stop himself. "And someone neglected to teach you how to wear clothes and comb your hair, sir. How does it feel to be dressed worse than your so-called inferior?"

He knew it was a mistake even as the words left his mouth. The furious vampire let go of his dress only to grab his wrist, twisting it and forcing Fitz onto his knees. "Know your place, filthy cattle."

Unable to escape, Fitz spit at him, right in his eye.

His all too brief life flashed before his eyes as the vampire pulled back his fist with murderous rage in his eyes. He was going to die here. His head was about to be mashed into paste by a stupid, clumsy vampire. His master was going to be so disappointed things turned out this way, but probably not particularly surprised.

"Excuse me, Jameson." Lex materialized from the crowd, grabbing onto the vampire's fist. "You need to take your hands off of my thrall. Now."

"This worthless piece of garbage spit in my face!"

"And you're manhandling my thrall," Lex practically growled in a tone Fitz had never before heard. "Let him go and leave him alone, and we'll call it even."

Jameson scoffed, but released Fitz's wrist, letting him collapse to the floor. "I was doing you a favor, Alexander," he said, towering at least a foot over Lex with a sneer on his face. "Your precious little thrall was deep in trance and heading straight towards Lord Edgar. It's obvious it's neglected and longing for a taste of actual power to put it where it belongs."

Lex glanced over at Fitz, who was smarting both from the pain in his wrist and the sheer humiliation of being caught out by hypnosis that wasn't even directed at him. "I would tell you not to speak of things you don't understand, Lord Jameson, but I suppose then you'd have very little to talk about."

The rage previously directed at Fitz was simmering in Lex's direction, now. "Insult me all you want. I still know you're full of it," he said. "They say you're one of the most powerful vampires in the city, but you can't even stop an empty-headed thrall like that from doing as it pleases. It's your sire who has all the real power. You must be such a disappointment."

"You think I'm unable to control a thrall?"

"I don't think it, I know it."

Cold determination set into Lex's face, and he began to sing, loud and clear and beautiful and captivating. The vampire ball faded and warped around Fitz as that voice filled his mind. Lex sang of control, of obedience, of bliss, of sleep. Deep, deep sleep. A sleep where the only thing that mattered was listening, a sleep where he could obey so easily even with his mind locked in slumber.

Fitz's curiosity about what Lex was doing was the only thing that allowed him to keep his drowsy eyes open. As he swayed in the grip of his master's irresistible song, he heard a yawn behind him, then a thump, and then a larger commotion. Even through his rapidly blurring vision, Fitz could see thralls falling to the song all around him, slipping to the floor as sleep overtook them.

And then, Fitz's desire to stay awake and see what would happen was consumed by the much deeper desire to obey the song, to shut his eyes, to let himself fall under the spell. He felt a drowsy smile spread across his face as he sank completely to the floor, feeling as if he could listen to the song and dream forever.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

I'm sure that won't come back to bite Fitz.

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@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe

[sufrimientilia]

Mine, mine, mine

gaslighting | hypnosis | brainwashing @augusnippets Day 1 cw: vampire whumper, blood drinking, see above

Dilated pupils, heavy breaths. Reality distorted in a way that just didn’t make sense.

He didn’t always take well to induction, or the compulsion, or her vampiric hypnosis— whatever you wanted to call it. Some would say she just needed more practice, that her efforts were sloppy and destructive and wrought with impatience, but others would say he was just being a little bitch about it.

Mostly she was ‘others.’

It wasn’t like she did it all the time. Just once in a while, on the occasion he needed to calm down or be more attentive, or when she needed him to forget things and believe others. Maybe also when she wanted to feed, and when she wanted to laugh, and sometimes when he just needed a break and she wanted to help him sleep.

It just didn’t always work well. Like the clipped commands that made him twitch and tremble with every string of defiance still catching at the fray, or the worsening fatigue and forgetfulness that came with every lie and lost memory. There was also the time she tried to lull him under with hummed tunes and hypnotic stares, and instead somehow gave him the spins, made him so dizzy his eyes wouldn’t track, and he puked all over himself and slumped in one pitiful heap that was so gross she just left him there for hours.

One night she was going hard with the whole thrall narrative, trying for some sort of hypnotic safety-net after yet another one of his failed escape attempts. Eventually he pressed his hand to his nose and his knuckles came away riddled with blood. “Mm.., my head hurts.”

She licked her lips. Sometimes humans leaked blood from such funny places. “Here, maybe you should lie down.”

“I don’t think…”

“You shouldn’t think,” she cut him off, words heavy and weighed. He grimaced hard and sunk right into her lap. “Good thralls have no thoughts at all.”

His brow creased the way it always did when he was in such delicious exquisite pain. Blood dripped over his lips. “I’m, I’m…”

“You’re nothing. You’re just mine.” She ran her thumb across his lips and licked some of the blood clean. His eyes opened and closed, struggling to track. “Mine, mine, mine. And nothing at all.”

"H... hhff-" His gaze wandered and went glossy, words incoherent on slow-moving lips. An odd tremble went through his body, and then he sucked in one hard breath and settled.

He was just so resistant. And sure, maybe there were some risks or side effects to vampiric hypnosis, especially if you weren’t great at it. But it wasn't like he made it easy. She pressed sharp nails against his forehead and he didn't even react. Blood dribbled and dribbled from his nose, mixing with the saliva now collecting at his lips.

It wasn't like she really cared if his brain turned to mush. Maybe it’d make him sweeter, and he could do with a little more sweetness. Sweetness that left him limp, and helpless, and drooling uselessly in her grasp.

Oh, her dear sweet thrall. He'd be just fine. She licked some more of the blood clean and tucked him in close.

[walkingstackofbooks]

I know this is cursed but. Please rank DS9 characters in order of how Dominant or submissive they’d be during kink scenes? I feel like we could write whole essays analysing what those guys do in bed tbh.

Oh my god, cackling, is this really what you all think of me? :P (Yeah, no, that's fair 🤣)

This was actually so interesting to think about! I was finding it very hard difficult to decide on an order on initial vibes alone, so I wrote up my headcanons for them all first - and a few of them are surprising even to me! Also there are so many switches/not really into it so the middle is really very fuzzy.

1 - Ezri Yeah, definitely a surprise to find her at the top of my list, but I so really think she'd get a kick out of the dom scene (and mostly dislike subbing). She's just got that quiet powerful energy that makes you want to be in her thrall, and being joined and having Jadzia's memories alongisde her own just makes her more confident that she's good at what she does. She wouldn't dom for brats though. (Also partly why she's so nervous at asking Julian out, she doesn't feel she's got a good read on his dom/sub energy...)

2 - Sisko If he was into it, I can only see him as a dom. He made captain because he's good at commanding, and he likes it, and I think that would carry through into the bedroom. But honestly, he probably wouldn't be interested in power play in the first place.

3 - Jadzia She's a great dom for sure, but I think she enjoys exploring new things way too much not to be a switch? Plus, Worf like to think he's a dom, and she's happy to humour him from time to time. More dom than not, though, and she's definitely a brat when she subs.

4 - Worf I've definitely said this before, but Worf thinks he's a dom. He's a Klingon warrior, etc etc etc, "obviously" if anyone's domming, it's him. I don't think he's that good at it, but Jadzia finds it endearing, so it's fine. And I think he likes it when Jadzia takes charge, but he never actually refers to that as "subbing" in his head... Idk, I just don't think he'd be able to relax enough to really let himself be submissive, even though I think he'd enjoy it if he were able to. (I also don't think he's particularly into power play, either, tbh)

5 - Garak Ohh, another difficult one... I think subbing would be really good for him, if he could let his guard down enough for it. And he'd have to be in the right mood to dom - at times, he'd really enjoy it, at others, it would hit too close to home and he'd be holding off a breakdown until whenever his partner left. I think he'd *want* to dom, though, even if he knows it'll trigger him, because he does enjoy breaking the other person down and hurting them. (Not that he'd think of it as "triggering" to himself, of course.)

6 - Odo I really cannot see him being into it. No rating. [Edit: I came back to re-evaluate after writing Kira but no. Even for her, it's really not something he wants to try.] [Edit: Fuck, he would dom for Quark though.]

7 - Miles Again, not sure he'd be into power play for itself, but he enjoys playing his role for a partner who's into it. Keiko, I think is a switch with a slight preference for domming, so he's been a sub more often than not. I think his favourite part of it is giving aftercare when he's been a dom :3 (something something good-cop-Miles-bad-cop-Keiko domming the hell out of a dazed Julian)

8 - Julian Disclaimer - I exclusively read sub!Julian, so I'm biased XD But trying to think about it objectively... I think he's a switch. Like Jadzia, he enjoys exploring new things too much to really stick to one or the other. I do think he'd have hangups over how much he enjoys domming though, what with his secret fear of going bad... And being a sub allows him to relax and not have to think and just relish in all the sensations and I think he'd love being slowly taken apart bit by bit...

9 - Kira Sure, she screams dom at first but I pegged her as a sub a few weeks back and now I've really talked myself into it. I think she could dom, but unlike Sisko, while she's very good at being in command, I don't think she intrinsically enjoys it, and letting someone else be in control would give her the chance to relax. It would take her a while to allow herself to explore it, but once she got there, she'd find a space where she can be soft and gentle and cherished - and hurt, and soothed.

10 - Quark Oh my god he's such a sub, right? Not that he'd ever tell anyone but he LOVES being told what to do and ordered around. In theory he's a brat, but it never lasts for long - he becomes a pliant submissive wreck too quickly. (Okay now I'm considering if Odo would break his definitely not rule for Quark and... Yeah, actually 😅 Why would their dynamic change just because they're having sex?)

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Strawberry Wine

(AA break up series, part 10! can be read alone, this one's mostly porn tbh)

Gale x F! Tav / Ascended Astarion x F! Tav

18+ tenderness, domestic bliss, grinding, lap dance (kind of), counter sex, breast worship (m!), p-in-v, prostate stimulation, confessions of feelings, confrontations, sex as a tool, handjob, oral (m!), sub/dom

The decision to dethrone the Ascendant at its precipice, Tav enjoys some much deserved domestic comfort with Gale. But time is running out and she must meet him one last time...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

She took a steadying breath, staring down the patch of soft grass.

It's just a front handspring, something she's done countless times. Surely, her body will remember. A modified one shouldn't be too difficult, right?

Leaning forward, she pulled into a handstand, legs swimming slowly above her in a testing motion.

Lifting one hand onto fingertips, she centered her tension into her shoulder. Okay, that's promising.

She rose back on feet and huffed out a breath. Pressing the knuckles of her left hand into her lower back.

Taking a running start, she bounced once and planted her hand on the grass, legs arcing over her head. Dismounting somewhat gracefully.

"Ha!" She barked, victorious.

"By Elminster's Beard, Tav!" Gale shouted, rushing outside. Wiping his hands quickly on his apron. "It's only been two weeks! Be careful!"

"Oh I'm fine. Tara's watching!"

His eyes darted incredulous to the little tressym sitting attentively on the stone bench.

"She's quite impressive, Mr. Dekarios. Did you see the flip?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, hand on hip.

"Yeah, did you see the flip?" Tav bounced excitedly.

"No, I did not. And even without the orb I don't know if my sensibilities can take that presently."

He ushered forward, smoothing hands along her back, her stomach.

"I'm really okay, Gale. Don't worry." She smiled, nuzzling into his beard.

He sighed wearily. Planting a soft kiss on her temple.

"I was coming to tell you dinner is ready, you menace."

"Oooh, yay!" She chirped.

They could both feel eyes on them from the treeline, a near constant sensation at this point.

He hadn't approached since her venom spouted that night at the barrier. But she knew he was always somewhere nearby, even if only in thrall's watching ceaselessly.

She had taken to ignoring it, but it still made Gale bristle.

He really doesn't let up, does he?

She smiled, letting him lead her inside by the small of her back. Tara trotting between their feet.

Right? You'd think he'd have better things to dedicate time to. Like being a Lord.

Gale snorted, shutting the door decisively behind them.

"Oh it smells heavenly in here." She sighed. A tangy spiced flavor floating in the air.

"Something I've made many times, but never for someone else. Never for you." He led her to the counter.

"Ohh, gyros!" She bounced on her heels excitedly.

"Oh good, you like lamb." He laughed, clearly relieved.

"I could fuck up some lamb anyday, I promise you that."

They ate together on the plush couch, him telling her about a stint in his youth at Blackstaff. Her listening rapturously, nodding and licking sauce from her fingers.

It was everything she had been missing, a comfortable bliss. His hand resting on her ankle, his food temporarily forgotten on the low table as he animatedly talked, his brown eyes dancing with mirth. Getting to a particularly juicy part of his story.

She felt a great swelling in her chest.

He had started Weaving unconsciously, little trails of blue light leaving his fingers. Something she noticed him doing when he got really invested in an activity.

She was smitten with him.

Leaning forward, she kissed him.

He startled, then quickly leaned into her. His Weaving fingers caressing against her hip.

"Sorry, you're just so kissable." She laughed, pulling back slightly.

"Mmm, I'll consider your apology. Interrupting my very thorough tale of mischief." He hummed, fingers kneading into the plush of her thigh.

He was obsessed with her hips, thighs, and ass. His hands seemed to have a magnetic pull to them. Catching him staring hungrily at her backside, eyes sliding away innocently when she would turn.

With a mischievous grin she realized he hadn't seen her dance yet.

"I'm going to go bathe, acrobatics do leave you sweaty." She kissed his jaw, beard scratching her. "Dinner was incredible. That was honestly one of the best meals I've had in a long time."

His ears flushed, and he cleared his throat, a small smile flitting across his face. Gathering their plates. "Well, thank you. It's quite a simple recipe, I can make it again if you'd like."

"I'm going to hold you to that. Among other things." She purred, turning to shoot him a salacious smile over her shoulder.

She heard the plates clatter and hid her smile behind her hand, turning down the hall with a little spin on her heel.

The enchanted lights hanging in air, the gentle sounds of insects calling for one another in the night, she wandered into the kitchen.

Securing her hair towel she reached into the ice chest for a drink, humming along with the enchanted music playing low. A slow winding beat, unconsciously rocking her hips to it.

Draped in just his sleep shirt and cozy socks, she found her prize and made to close the chest.

Hands snaked around her hips, a body pressing against her backside.

"Well, hello." She purred, smiling mischievously.

She swayed her hips, popping open the drink and taking one nonchalant pull.

How had Karlach put it when they had gone out dancing once she got touch back?

"How do you do that? It's like your hips are on a swivel!"

He gasped as she swirled figure eights with her hips, lifting and dropping them.

She could feel his erection growing as she moved, biting her lip in a smile.

He was silent behind her, completely entranced.

She body rolled in half time to the music. Serpentine, a waving ribbon of sensuality.

His fingers dug into her hips, starting to rock in time with her. Grinding into her ass.

Oh this was too much fun.

Just to tease him, she leaned on her knees and vibrated her hips.

That broke his trance, letting out a guttural groan.

His mage hand shot past her ear, pushing the contents of the counter onto the floor, two more gripping under her hips spinning her and lifting her onto it.

His mouth laced into hers, his hand gripping her hip flush with him still.

The heat between them felt primal. Speaking only through pulsing moans and heat slick fingers. Mouths love swollen and seeking.

She was already soaking wet, pulling at the ties of his sleep pants. Leaning down and taking one of his nipples in her mouth.

He whined as she swirled her tongue, nibbling down. His hips rocking hard into her.

She freed his cock from its fabric cage, already leaking precum. Lined him up with her entrance.

He shuddered as she pushed slowly into him, rolling her hips.

She switched to the other side of his chest, suckling the peak into her moaning mouth.

His hips were already slamming into her, eyes clenched shut. Panting breath a miasma around them both.

She reached under him and rolled her fingers into the place under his cock. Laving her tongue up and down his chest.

His eyes shot open, then went into the back of his head.

His whole body tremored as he gasped out indignant whimpers. Gripping into her hips like a lifeline. His head falling forward as he braced down.

She could see every strike of his release hit him as he winced, nearly looking to be in pain.

He turned his head to the side almost in shame as he flooded her cunt.

She pulled his face back to hers, pulling his bottom lip into her teeth.

His hand shot forward to brace on the cupboard, a heightened wave striking him so hard that she felt his body start to buckle.

He finally collapsed into her shoulder, gripping onto her back. Heart hammering so hard she could feel it against her chest.

She scratched in parallel lines along his scalp, wrapping her hips around his lower back.

She slipped off of the counter and pulled him to the floor with her. The cold tile welcome against her legs.

He folded into her and softly sniffled. A spreading dampness on her collar where his eyes rested.

She hushed and cooed, pulling him fully into her body with her bent legs.

They didn't have to speak through mouth or mind. Just washing each other over with what they felt.

His longing, loneliness, a bone deep gratitude, reveling. But with a strike of fear. Yearning for lost time. Things now held but ultimately missed.

Her soft warmth, wrapping around him. The puddling relaxation she felt with him. Some thorn laced anxieties underneath, but all she sent him was velvet touch. Adoration.

"I love you." He murmured, almost painfully.

She thought she might too, but she felt that rise of fear. Those vampire shaped thorns rising higher and twisting.

"I know." He said softly the sensation washing over him. "Take your time, you can catch up with me."

He curled his head against her shoulder, holding her between her shoulderblades. "This is more than enough for me now."

Now she was crying, a hiccup caught in her throat.

She thought about the last time she had been back pressed to wood and crying on the floor.

He felt that and nodded into her, agreeing that this was much better.

Laying awake she stared at him, turned on her side in the bed.

He slept like a stone, totally knocked out from their heat earlier.

She smiled at him, twisting his hair behind his ear. The slow smile that crossed his sleeping face when she touched him.

Gods she desperately didn't want to leave the cradle of his bed, but she had one last chance tonight.

Slipping out of his arms his sleeping form whined and reached for her.

"I'll be back soon, love." She murmured, kissing his hairline.

Pulling a dark blue robe off of the dresser, she wrapped herself and trotted downstairs.

She slipped on shoes, and heard Tara pad up behind her.

"Late night wandering, Mrs. Dekarios?"

Tav cheeks heated. Nearly dropping the shoe she was pulling on her heel.

"Tara, please. We are not even close to married." She admonished to Tara's little spinning body around her feet. Looking up at her with far too knowing eyes.

"I need to step outside for a moment. If Gale wakes tell him I'm safe."

"You're going to try one last time, I wager?" She sighed in a resigned and disapproving but ultimately supportive way.

"I at least owe him that." Tav sighed.

She shut the door gently behind her, heading for the woods behind the tower.

As soon as she reached the barrier, he was already there. Standing expectantly, smiling in that preening way with hands behind his back.

"Hello, Astarion." She stopped just short of the wavering magic separating them.

"Hello, my sweet. What do I owe this late night meeting?"

"When we were together..." She saw him bristle at the word were, but caught himself. Smoothing back out into that fluid smile.

"Did you ever compel me? And please don't lie, I don't have time for it anymore."

She heard Mephistopheles' cackle of agreement behind her but didn't bother turning, knowing it to be an illusion.

"No, I never did. Don't you think I would have made you my spawn already if I had?"

He made a good point.

"Why?"

"Why, what pet?"

"Why didn't you?"

He seemed to look in himself, his posture turning and pulling in just like it used to when he really considered something.

Just that little mannerism made her heart ache.

"I honestly don't know. It just seemed... wrong."

She stepped forward, the thread that tied her heart to his reeling her in.

Then he scoffed, walls rising again. "And naturally, beneath me. As if I need to compel others to get what I want."

She stopped short. Frustration snapping a band against the back of her head. They were getting nowhere.

She pushed past the barrier and saw the shock in his eyes. Backpedaling as she drew closer.

"Fine. We can talk in the only way you know how now." She dropped her robe, pooling at her feet.

His wide eyes drank her naked form for a moment, darting up to her eyes. Confused.

That was promising. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Pressing her lips into his, she cupped his cheeks. Trying to remember how she used to feel in these moments with him and pouring it out over his body.

For a moment, she wished she had the mind meld she had with Gale here. But quickly realized that would be a disadvantage in this situation.

He pulled her hard into his body, groaning as her tongue danced along his.

She was here for information ultimately, needing to be sure her sacrifice would even work. If there was still enough of him left she still had a chance.

Closing her eyes, she went back into her body's memory. How she touched him then. When he still loved her.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his trousers, pulling him further into her. Lips falling to the unmarked side of his neck. Moaning out as she pulled and lapped at the marble column of his neck.

A shudder pulled through him and she rewarded it by rocking her hand against his bulge.

"Fuck," He hissed, holding her by the hair to his throat.

She moaned. Encouragement. Reaching inside his finely tailored trousers.

His cock met her hand with a welcoming throb. Already a pillar, sitting up against his belly.

She spat down his front, the trail meeting her hand. Working him in her tight fist, looking in his eyes to see his reaction.

His head fell back, then came back down, eyes lidded. That old face he used to make when he was, in his words, 'fuck stupid'.

She smiled, pulling his shirt open. Revealing the plane of his chest.

His nipples were already hard, standing at attention.

"If you stay nice, I'll let you finish in my throat."

He nodded, his body oozing need.

Her tongue met his nipple, swirling it into her mouth.

"Ah!" He gasped, pulling her head to him harder. Cock throbbing in her hand.

Slick began pooling between her legs. This was a strategic move, but Gods if her body didn't call for him. Too much shared time of bodies sliding against one another to remain impartial.

She kept working his chest, doing that pulsing suckle that used to make him squirm.

He reacted just as she hoped, twisting against her. Breath all panting and hitching moans.

Hand already soaked in his precum she sped up her strokes then slowed to a glacial pace. Leading him to the edge then pulling him back.

"Fuck, please. Ugh!-" He groaned loudly as her teeth nibbled down. "Your throat. Let me."

His words were all cut sentences, just like before. Struggling to get a coherent thought out.

Dropping to knees she pulled him free, unsnapping the button.

She couldn't give him time to get his bearings so she opened her throat.

His length disappeared entirely into her mouth, lips meeting his base.

"Gods!" He choked.

Suctioning her lips down she began bobbing her head. Doing the last trick she remembered pulled him apart.

She undulated her tongue against his underside while humming. Gripping his hips to keep him in place.

He nearly buckled, head falling back. Panting up into the night sky.

His hand gripped into her hair, but didn't direct it.

That was it, that was what she was looking for. If he could have her like this and not take control, there was still some piece of him left. Steeling her resolve tenfold.

Alright, time to finish up.

She pulled his trousers down enough to slip her hand underneath, pushing one finger inside him. Curling towards his navel. Pressing swirling circles into his prostate.

"Fuck!" He did buckle then, head falling forward. Knees shaking.

That telltale tremor spread from his center and she braced for him.

Just for her own petty enjoyment she looked up at him that way he said made him crazy. Eyes wide and pleading.

His eyes met hers and he was gone.

Hot fluid shot down the back of her throat as she held open for him. Finger inside milking him for even more, mouth sucking hard.

He nearly sobbed, a tapestry being unwound. Gripping onto her hair, her shoulder, for dear life. Fingers surely leaving a bruise.

He started to collapse as she still bobbed her head, another pulse of fluid pouring down the back of her throat. She wrapped strong around his thighs with her free hand. He's not getting away that easy.

He was shuddering so hard, making her purr in accomplishment.

As the last of his spend gushed out she pulled away, swallowing. Looking in his eyes decisively as she did.

He fell back onto the soil, looking at her wide eyed. A question seemed to dance on his eyes, but she wasn't here to answer.

Rising on feet, she grabbed Gale's robe and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"See you soon, Starlight."

She turned and stepped back into the barrier, wrapping the ties around her waist. Not looking back.

Returning to the arms that she desired, that she deserves.

~

Final Part

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 4/?

Read on AO3

Pairing: Buck/Tommy, Vampire/Witch!AU

I was not expecting to have to delve this much into political structures, but I can't lie--it's kind of fun.

“Do we get to know why we’re kidnapping one of Gerrard’s party favors, or is this another situation where I sleep better if I don’t know?” Sal asked conversationally as they made their way to the big SUV Lucy preferred to drive.

“You don’t sleep,” Tommy retorted testily.

Sal sighed, and Tommy didn’t have to look to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “He got car keys? Gerrard’s got a few on his cleanup crew that’ll notice if there’s more cars than bodies.”

Damn it. That was a good point. “Fuck, I don’t know. He was talking to a friend or a roommate earlier; they might have come together, but I don’t know. Lucy, can you…?” He shifted Evan in his arms, holding him so that Lucy could rifle through his pockets. After a moment, she came up with a peeling leather keychain, on which dangled a couple of keys, one with the Jeep logo emblazoned on it. Sal snatched the keys and shot Tommy a look.

“I’ll go check where the staff was parking. If I don’t find anything, I’ll make my own way home. We are talking about this later, Tommy boy.”

“Expected nothing less,” Tommy sighed, and then frowned. “I’m taking him to the apartments, though, not the main house.” Sal looked surprised, but just nodded and loped off towards the end of the estate opposite the gardens, where presumably all of Gerrard’s victims had been told to park for the night. “You drive, Luce. I’m gonna have to handle him if he wakes up before we get home.”

Lucy’s eyebrows climbed towards her hairline, but she didn’t question him further, just hurrying along to the SUV and unlocking it with a quick chirp from the key fob. He clambered into the backseat with Evan and spent an awkward few moments trying to sort of lean him comfortably against the window in the seat before giving up with a groan and just pulling the kid back against his chest.

“I’m biting my tongue so hard I’m tasting blood, Kinard. I just want you to know that,” Lucy said from the driver’s seat, staring at him in the rearview mirror. “Also, just how much handling does one half-drained frat boy need? Not that I’m judging you. Much.”

Tommy glared at her half-heartedly, before turning his attention out the window, restlessly scanning their surroundings for any of Gerrard’s people. The SUV’s tinted windows—darkest UV blocking glass they were legally allowed to have in California, of course—should keep them safe from any prying eyes, but he didn’t fully relax until Lucy had pulled them out of Gerrard’s compound and they were out on the highway.

Evan showed no signs of waking, and Tommy took the opportunity to finally take a (metaphorical) breath and really consider just what the fuck he had done. He’d gotten the witch out of Gerrard’s territory…but now what? The kid had already proven he was dangerous. If it had been anyone else in that parlor apart from Tommy or Gerrard himself, he had no doubt Evan would have been able to escape.

He also had no doubt that Evan would not have been able to get off the estate. Against maybe a handful of younger vampires? Probably he’d have been fine. Against dozens and dozens of representatives of every coven in the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area? He might have taken a lot of them out with him, but eventually he would have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers. But the fact remained that bringing him home was dangerous. It was stupid. He'd accomplished what he’d set out to do—which was get the witch away from Gerrard. The smart thing to do would be to have Lucy drive to the nearest hospital, use the thrall to blur Evan’s memories enough that he wouldn’t be able to identify Tommy, and leave him on a bench near the ER doors.

What was he thinking?

He wasn’t, that was the problem. He’d been riding on instinct from the moment he’d watched Evan burn Gerrard’s turn to ash…and his instincts were insisting he not let the witch out of his sight.

Tommy had not survived for eight hundred fucking years by ignoring his instincts.

A faint tremor ran through Evan’s body, a small grimace twisting his face. The delicate skin of his eyelids twitched and trembled, his eyes moving restlessly back and forth as though he was dreaming. With a soft sigh, he turned further into Tommy’s chest, his forehead brushing the skin of Tommy’s neck. The kid was ice cold—especially compared to the warmth that had been radiating off him before. Well shit, of course he was. He was a few pints of blood lighter and he’d been fighting for his life with his magic. He was probably going into shock. Fuck…he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to worry about a human’s welfare. The only one he spent any real amount of time with was Lucy’s girlfriend—and not only did Lena decidedly not need Tommy fussing over her, she would be one of them soon enough (Lucy had already asked, and Alonzo had consented…but Lena’s mother was in the final stages of a long battle with cancer and she didn’t want to abandon her human life before her mother passed).

He twisted in his seat, searching through the multitude of things that had been tossed into the third row until he found a jacket he vaguely remembered seeing Ravi wear a few times crumpled up under some random books and an umbrella. He snatched it up and turned back to drape it over Evan, drawing another long look from Lucy in the rearview mirror. He sighed heavily.

“He’s a witch, Lucy,” he said without preamble.

Lucy did not slam on the brakes in shock. But the SUV did swerve a little. An angry horn blared behind them, and Lucy rolled her window down to stick her hand out and flip them the bird.

“Tommy, what the fuck? Are you sure?”

“He burned one of Gerrard’s turns to ash with a spell. Tried to flatten me like a pancake. And I could barely hold him in the thrall. So yeah, pretty sure.”

“What the hell is a witch doing at a vampire coven gathering?”

Tommy shrugged one shoulder, massaging his temple lightly. Sal insisted that they couldn’t get headaches anymore, but Tommy called bullshit. “Tending bar,” he said. “I don’t think he realized what kind of party he was working until it was too late.”

“His familiar let him walk into a den of vampires?” Lucy asked in disbelief. “Wait…where is the familiar?”

Another shrug. “I don’t think he has one. Like you said, no way it would have let him walk into Gerrard’s place. And there was nothing helping him when he was attacked. Even if his familiar was a damn fly, it would have tried to do something.”

“Is that—I mean, the only witch I know is Chimney, but—isn’t that…kind of weird for a witch his age?”

It was fucking bizarre is what it was. A bond with a familiar was considered part of becoming an adult among witches. Most were bonded with a familiar by fifteen or sixteen, sometimes earlier. But hardly ever later. Familiars helped witches regulate and control their power as they became fully functioning members of their covens. Granted, Tommy wasn’t exactly sure how a familiar was chosen for a witch. He would cautiously say that he and Howie were friends, but it wasn’t like they regularly traded coven secrets, and Howie had never offered up the story of how he’d come to be bonded with the wrinkly-faced bat that clung to his clothes and fluttered around his head constantly.

“It’s not normal, no,” he allowed eventually.

“Okay…okay, so I see why you took him out of Gerrard’s. No way in hell you could leave him there. But what are you planning to do with him?” she asked carefully. Too carefully.

“Lucy,” he said warningly.

“Kinard,” she replied in exactly the same tone. Then she sighed heavily. “You know we have to consider how much of an advantage this could be. You already drank from him!”

He shifted, unconsciously tightening the arm he had around Evan’s shoulders. To keep him from tipping all over the place, of course. The power of the witch’s blood still coursed through him, and would for several days…maybe even a few weeks. Tommy was already stronger and faster than anyone else in the coven, was stronger and faster than almost any other vampire in this part of California, but right now? He was fucking untouchable. Lucy was right…having access to Evan’s blood regularly would be an incredible advantage for the coven. Even if they limited who drank from him and let the younger members of the coven drink from those people regularly, the strength of the coven would increase tenfold. He knew why Lucy had to put the thought out there.

Alonzo’s coven was well-respected and well-liked. But they did not have the sheer power that was required to be politically important in their world. Tommy’s presence in the coven was the source of a lot of what political clout they did have. Even with their relatively small numbers, there weren’t many covens who were willing to anger a vampire who was close to measuring his age in millennia rather than centuries. Alonzo and Sal were decently powerful in their own right—both of them having been turned sometime during the early Renaissance—but apart from them the rest of the coven were all under two hundred years old. Most of them had been turned in the last century.

But no witch would willingly let themselves be used like that by a vampire coven.

Witch and vampire covens had an uneasy truce. In places like LA, with large populations of both, interaction was necessary to preserve the secret of their existence from the even larger human populations. That was how he’d come to know Howard Han. He and Howie had known each other for going on ten years, had spoken often in both official and unofficial capacities. He considered Howie a friend, and knew Howie felt the same. But they had never been to each other’s territory. Never been alone together. Every meeting he’d ever had with Howie had been conducted in a public place, or on carefully agreed upon and regulated neutral territory.

If the coven were to utilize Evan’s blood, they would have to force him.

Keep him locked up somewhere. Neutralize his ability to cast spells. Keep him a secret from every other witch and vampire in the city. And the worst part was, he knew Alonzo would consider it. Gerrard had been expanding his powerbase in LA for decades, and the very real possibility he would enter into a formal alliance with Ortiz had every coven not formally aligned with him on edge. The situation was becoming precarious enough that he knew Alonzo was considering if it was even worth it to stay in California anymore.

He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Evan what Gerrard would do to him back at the mansion. Gerrard’s solution would be to slice out Evan’s tongue and keep him chained in the basement of his most heavily fortified property and he would do it in a heartbeat.

Tommy had done unsavory things in the name of survival before. He no longer had to kill when he hunted, but there were hundreds, if not thousands of deaths under his belt in that pursuit. And that was just the hunting. Tommy had done many cruel, vicious things—in the name of survival or revenge or protecting something he valued or just because. The idea that he could be as old as he was with clean hands and a clean conscience was laughable. He certainly didn’t care that the other members of his coven still killed when they hunted, and far more frequently than he needed to. Tommy was no stranger to cruelty. It was true, though, that in general, Alonzo’s coven refrained from the worst excesses of their kind. That was what he liked about them, what had spurred him to join, and why he stayed.

The thought of doing anything the way Gerrard would turned Tommy’s stomach.

But it was one person—one stranger—held up against safety and protection for his entire coven.

“Tommy?” Lucy said again, and he shook his head.

“I don’t have a plan, Luce,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking beyond making sure Gerrard didn’t get ahold of him.”

“Well, you need to figure that the fuck out!”

“I know! Okay? I know. Look, just…just get us to the apartments. I’ll call Alonzo as soon as you’re gone and, I dunno, I’ll just see what he has to say.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…who said I was leaving?” She turned fully in her seat to glare at him, and he smacked the back of her headrest.

“Eyes on the road!” he snapped. “Fuck. And I said you’re leaving. Did you miss the part where I said this kid burned one of Gerrard’s turns to ash? Why do you think we’re not going back to the compound?”

“He’s thralled, it’s fine!”

“Lucy,” he said firmly. “No. I’ve never actually had someone fight me like that, I don’t know how long I can hold him.”

“So gag him,” she shrugged.

“Right, because waking up like that’s gonna inspire him to listen to me calmly and objectively.”

Another glare in the rearview mirror, this one suspicious. “Why do you need him to listen to you calmly and objectively?” she asked warily. “Tommy—we can’t let him go, you understand that right? Doesn’t matter what reason you had…and let me guess, someone caught you trying to sneak him out? It still doesn’t matter. You drank from a witch, completely unsanctioned. His coven could demand your fucking head. Even if by some miracle they accepted that you were trying to save him, the SoCal high coven has been trying to find a way to drive you and Gerrard out of LA for years. They hate having vampires as powerful as you in their territory.”

“I. Know,” he gritted out, although in truth he hadn’t been thinking anywhere near that far ahead. He’d just known he had to get Evan out of that mansion. Besides…if what he’d seen when he drank from Evan was accurate (and he still wasn’t sure it was…experiencing flashes and fragments of memories and emotions wasn’t unusual when drinking from a thralled victim, but he’d never seen anything that complete, that solid), the witch covens in the area might not respond for Evan the way Lucy thought they would.

“Okay, well, then what the fuck is the plan? Cause if you can’t answer that, we’re going to have to kill him. Tonight. Fuck, right now!”

“We’re not killing him.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was going to say them. Lucy turned to look at him again, shock plain on her face. The SUV drifted in its lane and another horn blared at them. Tommy rubbed a hand down his face, taking a deep, unneeded breath. “I am very aware of just how precarious the situation is, okay? But I don’t want to kill him unless we have to.”

It was strange, actually, how very much he didn’t want to kill the witch. If his position was reversed with Lucy or Sal, he’d be questioning if Evan had somehow cast a spell on them. But his instincts were screaming at him. Screaming. He had to listen.

“Tommy,” Lucy said softly, and when he looked at her face in the mirror, she was biting her lip, a worried frown wrinkling her forehead.

Without a word, he reached forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. Blindly, she grabbed it, rubbing her cheek against his knuckles. Lucy was not his turn. He hadn’t made her. But the one who had had completely abandoned her to her new life, cutting her loose only days after she’d risen. Tommy had been the one who found her, half-feral and on the verge of being declared for extermination by the local covens. He’d been the one who helped her regain her control, herself. He hadn’t made her, but neither of them really made that distinction anymore.

“Luce, do you trust me?” he asked softly.

“You know I do. More than anyone.”

“Then trust me. I’ll figure this out.”

Lucy swallowed convulsively but gave a sharp nod. She squeezed his hand one more time, and then let it go to concentrate on driving. They spent the rest of the drive in silence, until Lucy eventually guided the SUV into the underground parking garage of the apartment building Alonzo had acquired as a coven safehouse a few years ago. They’d gone to great pains to bury its ownership under multiple shell companies and shadow investors, and even occasionally rented out units in it to preserve the fiction. At the moment, it was completely empty.

The perfect place to bring what was essentially a ticking timebomb. It wasn’t like Tommy didn’t have the funds to buy the coven a hundred more apartment buildings if this went badly and Evan ended up burning the place to the ground. The witch was still deeply unconscious, but a little bit of color had come back to his face as Tommy gathered him up again and slid out of the backseat. His breathing and heartbeat were steady enough that Tommy wasn’t worried.

Lucy insisted on following him up to one of the loft apartments they kept furnished with the basics, dithering by the door while Tommy carried Evan up to the second floor and laid him down on the bed far more gently than was strictly necessary. He hesitated briefly, then mentally threw up his hands and made quick work of removing the witch’s shoes and belt. He searched briefly through his pockets, just to remove anything that might be uncomfortable to lie on, and came up with only his wallet and a pack of gum. He debated only a few seconds before flipping the wallet open, his eyebrow climbing when the driver’s license in the first plastic sleeve read EVAN DANIELS. That was weird…the kid had said his last name was Buckley when Tommy questioned him back at the mansion.

“Hey, Sal just texted! The keys matched an old Jeep in the staff parking area…what do you want him to do with it?” Lucy called up the stairs, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looked down at Evan again and closed the wallet, setting it down on the nightstand in easy reach.

“Have him bring it here,” he called back.

“Oh, so Sal gets to stay?” Lucy grumbled but didn’t try to argue further. Tommy rested his hands on his hips, drumming his fingers on his belt as he tried to think ahead for perhaps the first time tonight.

“Hey, Josh still does a lot of hacking doesn’t he?” he asked, going to the top of the stairs and looking down at Lucy. She looked up from her phone, a distinctly unimpressed look on her face.

“His literal job for Alonzo is erasing the coven’s digital footprint and keeping our finances straight, so, uh, yeah.”

“Think he could find out some coven information discreetly?”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing we’re talking witch covens, not vampire. Ugh. I can ask…but if he thinks we’d trigger something, he’s not doing it.”

“No, yeah, no, that’s fair. Just…see if he can find out anything about an Evan Buckley.”

“That’s not a very unique name—do you have any other details, or are we just looking for what we can dig up in LA?”

Tommy thought back to the strange…vision or dream or whatever. “No, no he can’t be from California.”

Lucy’s glare turned disbelieving. “You want Josh to go fishing through coven records for a name like Buckley and the only geographical distinction is ‘not California’?”

Okay, when she said it like that…

“I think…I think he was banished,” Tommy admitted after a moment. “Probably a few years ago.”

“Banished,” Lucy repeated slowly. “A few years ago? But you said he was casting spells?”

“I know. I—I might be wrong. But there’s something weird going on here.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Lucy muttered darkly. “Fine. Evan Buckley, banished from anywhere in the United States except California…you do think he’s American, right?”

“I mean, if he’s not he does a really decent accent,” Tommy said with a shrug.

“You’re giving me ulcers, Kinard!”

He smirked at her, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. “They’ll heal. Now get out of here. See what Josh can find, if anything, and text me later.”

At that, the irritation melted off Lucy’s face, and she stabbed a finger towards him, her expression deadly serious. “Stay safe, okay?”

“You know me Luce. I’m hard to kill.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded, and turned to leave. Tommy watched the door close and the deadbolt engage with a solid thunk, and then he was alone. With a witch. Who he had bitten without permission and kidnapped, and who had already demonstrated a complete willingness to try and kill him. And who he absolutely was not going to be able to let go when he woke up, regardless of whether or not he particularly wanted to.

Right. What could possibly go wrong?

[convexicalcrow]

"How's that big salmon stuff going these days?" Cub asked. He had stopped by the farm to ask him about custom fireworks, and noticed the wide, deep river that now separated his farm from xB's place.

"Oh, it's going wonderfully, Cub. See this river? They're very happy with it, I can assure you," Beef said.

"Salmon wanting a river, that's hardly a surprise," Cub said.

Beef chuckled to himself. "Well, no, though I still don't really know why they wanted it, though. Maybe it was just to look pretty. And they are fish, after all."

Cub shrugged. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

"Did I heard you'd started covering your base with skulk? How's that working out for you?" Beef said. "Not possessed again, are we?"

"Pfft, nah, it just looks better than the grass, that's all. Makes all the bright colours stand out," Cub said.

"Sure, sure," Beef said.

"Just like you're not taking orders from a fish, hey?" Cub said.

Beef laughed this time. "I guess we both know what that kind of thing's like. Not that there's anything weird going on with the salmon. I just do what I'm told, and they wanted a river, so. I got False to make me one."

"No, of course not. Nothing weird going on here," Cub said. "We just do as we're told. The rewards make it worth it."

"Yeah, something like that," Beef said.

"Anyway, about those fireworks..."

-

Beef crouched by the river once Cub was gone, thinking. The salmon filled the river, the only fish he could see in the water. Something about them memerised him, watching their glistening bodies move effortlessly through the water.

Who'd have thought an offhand comment would lead to this? Not Beef. But stranger things had happened, so whatever. And if it helped him and Skizz go up against Doc and his sand nonsense, well. The solidarity was nice.

This wasn't...

Something about Cub had got him thinking, though. He wasn't- possessed, was he? No, that can't be it. Possessed was what Cub was, with the skulk. Not- no, you definitely couldn't be possessed by Big Salmon. Definitely not.

And yet, the question remained at the tip of his tongue, almost daring him to ask it. Perhaps he was in too deep. But what did it matter now? Big Salmon would take care of him.

-

Cub felt the echoes of something in the water as he swam across. He saw the salmon and smiled, thinking nothing more of them. If Beef wanted to serve some fish, well. That was his decision to make. He wasn't any different, right? He wasn't possessed by the skulk this time. It was different. There'd be no need to call on Pix and False to splash him with every potion known to the world to cure him.

But the skulk still whispered. Cub was scared of it at first. Wardens were dangerous creatures, and he'd decided to mine straight into an ancient city. He felt that was not a random act. The skulk had drawn him in, for reasons unknown, and now he was in their thrall again.

He'd been afraid of that, to be honest. Knew all along they were lurking, waiting, lying dormant until the right moment. Perhaps now was the right moment, he thought, as he continued to spread skulk across the grass, watching it shrivel and die as the skulk took over. It spread a silent darkness across his base, one that made the base feel much more ominous.

Why was that important? Cub didn't know. Didn't question it. Continued to simply harvest all the skulk from the ancient city and spread it up here instead. As if he was bringing it to life out here. And, sure, placing it seemed fine, but he'd felt the sheer joy when he'd spread it by killing Scar. Scar had felt it too. They didn't mind killing each other for sport anyway, so it was fine. It was fun to see how far it spread.

-

Cub thought about Beef's river. Beef thought about the salmon. False cradled her rivers safely in her briefcase. Gem did her best to hide the horrors that lay under the water in her base. Grian had never been the same since the fishing took hold. Maybe....

Beef stared at the river. Reached down to touch the water, felt one of the salmon nip at his fingers as if it was expecting food. He offered it some meat from his farm, numb to the sight of it feeding from his hands, tearing the flesh apart.

Maybe- Maybe Cleo was right. Maybe there's something about the water this season. Or-

-

Cub sunk his fingers into the skulk, sighing in relief as the skulk brought him radiant calm. Yes. Yes. The skulk whispered. Cub closed his eyes. Gasped at the vision the skulk sent him of how his base will look. Smiled as Scar killed him, his life sacrificed to the skulk as it snaked out around him, spreading further and further. All would be skulk. All will be skulk. He would make sure of that.

[shieldofiron]

As a Halloween thought for you because omg you finished serrated- thrall Steve dressing like a vampire bride because he’s sad and pining alone in Billys massive castle

Just thought this might be a little pick me up thought

"Steven! Steven," Billy glanced down at his bloodstained shirt. Steve had such tricks, the humans had made such progress in the field of laundry since Billy had stopped paying attention in the 1800s.

Since Steve had moved into the nest, he'd made so many improvements, including installing one of their laundry machines. Billy had happily paid to have new plumbing installed for his human thrall, anything to keep Steve happy. Though he feared he was quite ruining it by constantly asking whether he could get help putting his clothes in.

He ran a hand through his hair a few times, wishing, as he often had, that there was new progress in the world of mirrors and photography so he could ensure he looked his best for his... Steve.

There was a scuffling noise behind the door to Steve's room but there was no answer.

"Steven... are you quite alright?" Billy leaned into the door.

But there was no answer.

Billy's mind began to race, imagining the worst. Perhaps slayers had infiltrated. Eddie had a passing fancy for a small slayer, a blonde boy with murderous accuracy. Eddie could have easily led the slayer here in his doomed quest to seduce him.

"Steven!" Billy burst through the door and stopped still, "Oh."

Steve was half huddled behind a mirror, trying to hide. Which was proving difficult, because he was wearing a dress Billy had never thought to see again.

Chrissy had had a human bride, long ago. She'd specially made the girl a dress, a traditional vampire bride's dress of red lace. When the girl had died, Chrissy had packed it away with her bride's belongings.

"Steven."

"I didn't steal it! Chrissy leant it to me! I swear," Steve squeaked.

"But..." Billy shook his head, "Why?"

"I just... um... I thought maybe..." Steven rested his head against the mirror, "I know I'm just your thrall but... this is just for me. I'm allowed to dream a little right?”

If Billy had a heart it would be racing, "Steven."

"I know, I'm s-sorry, Billy, God," Steve groaned, "Just leave me alone."

Billy disappeared into smoke and reappeared behind Steve, tracing the line of the open back of the gown up to the top of Steve's delicate spine, "You make a beautiful bride, Steve."

Steve just made a little whimpering noise.

"But I think," Billy ghosted his lips along Steve's neck, "We could make you a new one."

Steve shivered, "Billy, don't tease me..."

Billy spun Steve in a whirl of motion, pressing him into the heavy wood frame of the mirror.

"I'm not teasing," Billy stepped between Steve's parting legs, "Fuck, Steve. I'm not a fancy man. If I hadn't got turned I'd be dead in a gutter in Derry long ago."

"I don't know what that has to do with anything," Steve said in a whisper.

Billy ran his hands along Steve's bare back, "Because I love fine things. I love fine things that I don't deserve, but fuck Steve, I will take them."

Steve looked up at him with wide bambi eyes, "Then take them."

Billy forgot all about his laundry. But they ended up having to clean the wedding dress anyway, or Chrissy would kill them. They didn't call her the blood queen for nothing.

[ladytauria]

Trick or treat? :3

💜🧡💜 thank you fenris!!

so! this one is a snippet from my incbus!jason AU~ loosely based on a platonic batfam series (link), in which incubi feed on all emotions, but especially love/pleasure/etc. working summary:

Tim doesn’t let Jason touch him.

the basic set up is that the two of them are on an away mission, and Jason needs to feed~

it's actually almost done; i just need to clean it up / rewrite a few bits!

“You need to eat.”

“There are other food sources. Pain. Fear. Anger.” He pauses. “Lust.” Never mind how using lust to feed made him feel, or what memories it brought to the surface. It would sate him until one of the others was available.

Tim’s lips thin. “Because submerging yourself in those isn't going to mess up your head."

Jason sets his jaw. “I can control it.” He wants to be angry, offended, at the mere idea that Tim doesn’t trust him—but those emotions wither at the sight of the scar on his throat.

Tim huffs, waving a hand dismissively. "I know you can." Both tone and gesture act as if the opposite is ludicrous. "I’m not worried about your control, Jason. I don’t want you to—put yourself through something you don’t have to.”

There’s a part of Jason that melts at that. “You shouldn’t either,” he says, softer than he means to.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re forcing yourself to do this, but—”

“I’m not,” Tim denies again, more forcefully. “There would be no point. You’d know as soon as you touched me.”

That—is true.

When an incubus opened a bond, there was no hiding from them. Every emotion was on display, and though they could be dulled, suppressed, they couldn’t be fully hidden. Not even Bruce, with all his training and shields, could hide from Jason when he was feeding from him.

If Tim truly didn’t want Jason touching him, Jason would know as soon as the bond opened.

Jason still argues. “Don’t. Don’t make yourself do this, Tim. Not for me.”

Not after what he did.

Jason could still hear him screaming in his nightmares. Could smell his blood, feel it on his fingers. The worst of it was the acrid flavor of his fear and pain; the way the insecurities and doubt had swelled under his thrall. Tim had defied him, determination humming in his blood all the way to the end. Jason had crossed a line Tim never could—and he would bear that sin to his second grave, and possibly beyond.

Getting to know him just made it worse. Tim was funny, and kind, with clever fingers and fine-boned hands. He never shied away from Jason’s death jokes. He liked a good explosion almost as much as Jason, and after a fight, when he was pink cheeked and wild haired, he had a triumphant smile that made Jason want to kiss the rest of the breath from him—

—and he couldn’t.

Because he shot himself in the foot before he even knew he wanted to walk.

And now Tim sat here, across from him, and asked him to feed from him like Jason hadn't once twisted his deepest insecurities and doubts against him.

“Jason… I’m not making myself do anything.” Tim’s face softens. “It’s okay. You’re not the person who hurt me anymore. You’ve changed.”

He has. He knows he has. He’s worked hard at it, ever since he woke up one day and realized he'd become something, someone, he'd never wanted to. And somehow, that had ended with him being back in the bats' good graces again. Mostly.

He will never follow Bruce’s rule. He will never stop believing that sometimes, people need to die, and if he ever gets the chance, he’ll put a bullet through Joker’s head without hesitation or second thoughts. But he’s done trying to force Bruce’s hand, and Bruce is done trying to change him. They still fight over Jason’s choices, sometimes, but ultimately; Bruce has learned to live with it. Has said he trusts Jason—has let Jason feel it.

But just because he’s changed doesn’t mean the damage hasn’t been done. They’re never going to be close again. He’s never going to be able to lean on him, like he once did, and he’s never going to trust him fully, to keep him safe.

“It still happened.” Jason can never fully trust Bruce. Tim can never fully trust Jason. Actions have consequences.

“It did. But I’ve forgiven you, Jason.”

Jason wants to believe it. He does. But Tim is a liar, and a good one. He’s seen him lie right to Batman’s face without so much as flinching—and watched Bruce believe him. He still believes him. Hell. If Jason hadn’t known the truth, he probably would have believed him too.

Tim smiles at him, then, small and self-deprecating, and Jason itches to smooth it away. “The Tower has nothing to do with why I haven’t offered to feed you before. It’s—” He shakes his head. “You might be the one who never wants to touch me again, if anything.”

Jason very much doubts that. To say so out loud, though, would reveal how very badly he does want to touch Tim, and he can’t have that. “Tim…”

“Jason.” Tim meets his gaze. He’s not fiddling with his shirt sleeve anymore. His hands are still. His shoulders are back. His jaw is set. He isn’t going to budge, Jason realizes. Even if Jason convinces him to give it up tonight—which is looking less and less likely—he’ll be back again tomorrow. And the day after. Until Jason gives in, or they go home. Hell, he might keep it up at home, too. Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

“Fine,” Jason says shortly. He’s smart enough to realize when the only way out is through. He plops down in his chair, so close to Tim their knees are almost touching. “Give me your hand.”

[belleyellsaboutturtles]

Sparky - pt 3

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Mikey was exhausted.

He'd been feeling it ever since defeating Hypno-Potamus. Which was weird, because it hadn't even been a hard fight! The worm had even said Mikey was on fire! So Mikey was pretty confident he'd killed it. (...even though he couldn't remember what exactly he'd done.) Aches and fatigue weren't uncommon after a workout, and that had definitely counted as one despite how easy it'd been. So Mikey thought he'd just do what he normally did - sleep it off.

It didn't work.

Spending the next few days helping Donnie build a puppy sanctuary for Todd so they could get the Moon Buggy probably didn't help. All nighters weren't uncommon in the Hamato household, so it certainly wasn't the first time Mikey had done one. Todd - who had kept them supplied with his delicious lemonade the whole time - had actually insisted they at least take naps the second day. Donnie had put up a fight, but Mikey had happily flopped down on a blanket and promptly passed out. Donnie must have noticed, because he'd made sure Mikey didn't pull a second all nighter. Mikey had protested - he couldn't leave Donnie to do all the work! But even as he'd argued, he'd been half asleep on his feet. Then Todd expressed his own worry and Mikey hadn't been able to say no anymore.

Now they were home again, watching Raph play their dance game, and Mikey was still dragging. He hadn't been this run down in awhile and he had no idea why it had come on. The only thing he could think of was they'd started crime fighting, but then his brothers would have been tired too! As far as Mikey could tell, it was just him. Maybe he needed to do more endurance training?

It was weird too. Like, he was tired, but there was almost a disconnect from it. It almost made him think he was experiencing depersonalization - something he'd read about recently in a psych article - but he had nothing else to back it up. He didn't feel like he was having an out of body experience. He didn't feel like he was in a dream or anything. If anything, it felt like the exhaustion he was feeling wasn't actually his, but he was feeling it anyway. It didn't make sense.

It was also starting to cause problems. Like, Mikey should've realized waaay faster Splinter had rat flu. (Why did he call his dad a zombie?!) And he fumbled with putting his hazmat suit on twice. Twice!

Luckily, he was still fast, even though he felt dead on his feet, and avoided contamination. By the time he and Raph made it to stage six, he was feeling confident!

"-and out walks - DUN DUN DUUN - Jupiter Jim!" Splinter said, donning a space helmet. "And they smash two titans!"

Mikey grinned and wrote it down on his notepad. "This is amazing, keep going!"

What is happening?

"Huh?" Mikey paused his note-taking and looked up at Raph. "You say somethin'?"

"Yeah! We're almost to stage seven!" Raph grinned, pumping his fists. "This is the closest I've been to success... ever!"

Mikey smiled widely and held his hand up for a high five-

Stage seven? What is stage seven? Why does the rat have dolls?

Mikey stopped again, looking around in confusion. "Okay, you heard that too, right Ra- achoo!"

Dang it, he was infected.

Raph quarantined him immediately. Which, rude. He could've lasted a little longer! Just long enough to see stage seven, surely! So what it felt like he was on the sun? He was fine! He just... he just needed... why was it so hot?

In the thrall of infection, Mikey completely forgot about the unknown voice he'd heard echoing through the lair.

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[motheatenscarf]

I'm a notoriously slow RPG player and have had kind of a busy day besides, but I have made it as far as the Grove and doing most of the side quests there, and man, they've changed a LOT from early access!

I like Gale a LOT more this time around, they really toned down his superiority complex, he seems more excited to explain things because he's special interest infodumping, rather than like, lecturing you because you're stupid and you need someone to explain these very simple things to you.

I also like that they shortened up the Nautoloid section in the tutorial, they messed up the ship a lot more and cut out the thralls running the cannons. Really added to the stakes that you had to RUN to the bridge.

The camp clothes are adorable and apparently because I was an Early Access player, I got the digital deluxe version for free! So I got lots of fun DOS2 themed clothes and gear and whatnot. Look how cute Rose looks in it!

Things I'm less sure on are Wyll's recast and retooled story. I think it's very compelling to make his goal a conflicting one with one of the other origin characters/companions, but it makes him less personally endearing for him not to care as much about the tieflings in the Grove. The new VA is great, he does sound like nobility this time around, less cocky and self aggrandizing, but I also liked how forced and put-on his bluster felt. You really got the impression before that nobody bought his hype, least of all himself as the man selling it. Idk. I guess I have to put that version of Wyll out of my mind because he seems like a VERY different character now.

I googled why the VA was recast, wondering if he'd gotten canceled for something or other, but apparently they completely reworked Wyll because he just "wasn't connecting with players." Which... is disappointing for a number of reasons.

I'm not very far in, but I'm already wishing they'd just stuck to their guns because we all

KNOW

WHY

players were having a "hard time" """"connecting"""" to Wyll over any of the other characters, and it had nothing to do with his story or his VA. He worked fine as a character, he was internally consistent with plenty of plot hooks into the main narrative with an overarching mystery that would be solved by progressing his story. I'm sure this new version will work too, and he's far from the only character they've retooled personality-wise.

Shadowheart was kinda snide and hostile at first, now she's almost playful if still secretive. Gale was arrogant and condescending, now he's eccentric and excitable. Even Astarian who started out much more overtly salacious and cruel has been toned down to just, general hedonism and selfishness. Lae'zel has always been Lae'zel tho lol.

So like. Idk, I want to take it in good faith that Wyll's actual story has been the most noticeably retooled since his was the most complete narrative we got out of Act 1 from early access, but also, I can't NOT be suspicious when I've seen it happen so many times where devs will "rework" a black character who isn't "connecting" with fans.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 60: Fitz's Arrival

Prev > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, "kidnapping"

October 1925

The fog was thick and foreboding, the night chill and damp, as Alexander and Oliver made their way to the harbor district. Oliver was bundled in a fine wool coat lined with fur, a thick scarf and a practical hat, all provided by his master for his comfort, but he still felt a bit of the chill. Or perhaps it wasn't the weather at all, but his trepidation at meeting another vampire -- although this was, at least, one that his master trusted.

Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to have an unusual spring in his step despite the gloomy weather. Oliver thought that it might be the first time he'd noticed his master humming when it wasn't for the purpose of enthrallment. He'd been quite eager to get Oliver out the door, as well, explaining that his companion might get bored if he were left to wait long.

And so they were here on the docks with only a few dim gas lamps and a waning moon to keep Oliver from being as unable to see as when his eyes had been forced shut. Alexander had no such trouble, leading Oliver through the maze of crates and workers with ease.

"Hm, I thought he would be around here," said Alexander, brow furrowed. "Oliver, you wait here for a moment while I look around."

The last thing Oliver wanted was to be left alone in the dark. "But sir --"

A hand clapped over his mouth, an arm wrapped around him, and he was pulled backwards into the fog.

"Now, don't you worry," said a low, persuasive voice very near his ear. "You've got nothing to worry about. Trust me."

Oliver let out a muffled cry, hoping his master could hear, as he kicked at his assailant. He was unnaturally strong and the hand on his face was freezing cold -- a vampire, no doubt. His master's friend? But why would his master's friend…

"Ooh, you're more feisty than I expected. Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax…"

The hand on his face didn't feel cold any more, quite the opposite. A sensation of delicious warmth seemed to be radiating from the vampire, dulling Oliver's senses and enticing him to be at ease.

"There you go! Just be quiet," he said in a tone that made it very clear he knew the effect it would have on Oliver. "You can be quiet for me, can't you? So, so quiet…"

Oliver struggled to fight the twin effects of the euphoric touch and repeated hypnotic triggers, but he was rapidly losing. All his mind wanted to do was sink into this feeling of delicious drowsiness. "Master…" he called weakly.

"I told you, don't worry. Your master knows exactly where you are. Everything is going to be fine," said the vampire, and Oliver couldn't help but believe him. He certainly felt like everything was going to be fine as he slumped over in the stranger's arms.

The vampire removed his hand from Oliver's face, pinning him against a warehouse wall and running a gentle hand down his cheek and through his hair. The touch felt like nothing Oliver had experienced before, like cool, fresh water given to a parched man, drinking it in as much as he could and still not having enough. As the vampire became barely visible in the dim light, Oliver could see golden hair and a brash, confident grin, the face of a con-man who knew he was going to get away with it. He pressed his head into the vampire's hand, trying to get more of the heavenly touch, eyes half-lidded and already far gone.

"You were right, Lex," said the vampire. "He's absolutely ideal, a real treasure."

"Just as I told you." Alexander emerged from the fog. He looked calm, even happy, even though his thrall was currently very much in the clutches of another vampire. Even through Oliver's daze, he realized that this vampire really must be his master's friend, Fitz. "Have you had your fill of terrorizing poor Oliver, yet?"

"Terrorizing?" Fitz's laugh was as untrustworthy as his smile. "Why, Lex, I would never! Does your Oliver look terrorized to you?" He was practically pressed against Oliver now, brushing Oliver's hair from his eyes, running a finger down the side of his face and letting it linger on his lips.

Oliver could feel the euphoric delight of Fitz's touch even more strongly now, and with his master safely nearby and unconcerned, any desire he had to resist gave way to pleasure. "Mmm," he said, not even fully aware of how shamelessly he was nuzzling into Fitz's hand. His mind was fading away, only able to focus on how he needed more.

"You see, he's not terrorized at all. Are you, Oliver? Are you scared of me?"

"No, sir," he said, blinking slowly. "Not at all."

"I suppose you're all right then, aren't you?" said Alexander, and his master was at his side now, running his hand through Oliver's hair.

Oliver thought he might melt in this spot from the sheer pleasure, his knees growing weak. "I'm all right, sir," he said dreamily.

"Good boy," Fitz murmured into his ear. "You're very good for your master, aren't you?"

"I want to please him more than anything, sir…"

"Fitz," said Alexander with a hint of warning. "Do you really want to do this on a filthy, cold dock, when we could be entrancing Oliver in my library or bedroom?"

An involuntary shudder rippled through Oliver at the prospect of being taken into his master's bedroom to be entranced by him and his friend.

Fitz let out a dramatic mock sigh. "You have a point. I guess if I've been waiting this long, I can wait a little longer. Besides, I haven't greeted you properly yet."

"What do you mean…?"

Fitz relinquished his grasp on Oliver and scooped Alexander into his arms, twirling him around as though they were schoolchildren. Oliver shook himself a bit out of his trance to watch them. Alexander had a genuinely bright smile on his face in a way Oliver had never seen before, not even when Oliver was a free man and a shopkeep providing Alexander with a long sought after book, not even when his master drank. They kissed, and the kisses drew lower, down each other's necks…

So this was what truly pleased his master. Was it jealousy he felt? Perhaps he'd become used to being the center of Alexander's world, a comfort in captivity.

"They're always like this."

Oliver yelped at the voice right behind him, turning around to see a taller man with a plain brown suit and equally plain brown hair. He was dragging a huge steamer trunk behind him, and Oliver wasn't sure how he didn't hear this man's approach.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to startle you," he said. "You must be Oliver. I'm Roger, and I belong to the vampire you just… well, I suppose "met" isn't exactly the right word for it."

"Oh! You're a thrall, too?" Oliver was pleased that Fitz had brought along a thrall for him to talk to, especially one who seemed very put together. He held out his hand to shake. "It's good to meet you!"

Roger's handshake was firm. "Likewise. I hope my master's prank wasn't too troublesome."

"Well, it was surprising… but I can see now that he wasn't going to harm me."

Fitz, having put Alexander back on the ground, wrapped an arm around Roger. "My ears are burning. Are you talking about me?"

"I just think that you didn't have to manhandle Oliver by way of greeting, sir."

"How could I resist? You just don't understand how blood like yours and Oliver's smells. If you were in my shoes, you couldn't resist, either," He turned to Oliver. "But I guess I didn't properly introduce myself. I'm Fitz, an old friend of your master's."

"Nice to meet you, sir," said Oliver, shaking Fitz's outstretched hand. "My master told me a bit about you."

"About how handsome and charming I am, no doubt," said Fitz, using the contact to pull Oliver closer. Oliver could feel the drowsy trance stealing over him again as he mindlessly shook Fitz's hand.

"Perhaps, but also about how you can't leave well enough alone." Alexander's hands closed around Oliver's shoulders, and he gently pulled him away from Fitz. "We should head back to the manor, not stand on the docks until the sun comes up."

"Of course." Fitz flashed a cheeky smile at Oliver, and Oliver couldn't quite make up his mind about this vampire. He could feel himself crave more of that touch, and wasn't sure he liked the hold it already had on him.

"You're not seriously making Roger drag your luggage, are you, when you could easily do it yourself?" Alexander asked, taking the handle of the steamer trunk from Roger.

"Roger doesn't mind. That's what thralls are for, right?"

Roger ignored him. "Thank you for taking the luggage, sir," he said to Alexander.

"It's no problem."

The group began to make their way out of the chill and foggy docks and into the slightly more hospitable city streets. "So how was your voyage, Fitz? As miserable as you made it seem?"

"Miserable and more! There was a storm the first night. The seas were so rough that I could barely even stay put in my bunk. Roger here was an absolute saint, comforting me in my hour of need."

"I believe you spent half the voyage gnawing on my neck, sir."

"Just little sips! It calms the mind, you know," said Fitz. "And how have you been, Lex? Apart from the…" He gestured towards Alexander's bandaged hand.

"Fine, apart from the unwelcome visit of my sire. But we shouldn't speak of such unhappy things now that you've arrived. This wound will heal quickly once I drink, but I was making sure to save Oliver for the both of us to share."

Fitz's arms wound around Alexander's waist. "That's very thoughtful of you. We'd better get home quickly, then."

…So they were going to drink from him shortly after arriving at the manor. Oliver tried not to feel a bit of a thrill from it. He was less scared of Fitz feeding from him after his experience on the docks.

Soon enough, they arrived back home. Fitz spread out his arms and took a deep breath. "Ahhhh, how I missed that musty old library smell."

Alexander was taking his shoes off, and as soon as he had, Fitz had him pressed up against the wall. "We're not on the docks any more, and my patience has run out." He caught Alexander with a fierce, shameless, deep kiss, one which seemed to last forever. Alexander groped at his back, pulling him closer.

Oliver stared down at the floor, mortified, not sure what he should be doing, until Roger loudly cleared his throat.

"Ah, Roger," said Fitz, entirely too casually as he came up for air. "Why don't you and Oliver entertain each other for a bit?"

"Yes, that's a good idea." Alexander seemed strained, as if pulling himself away from Fitz required all of his effort. "You can have your pick of guest rooms on the second floor - Oliver can show you to them. And if you want any refreshments, the kitchen is all yours. We just have some… matters to attend to."

"'Matters to attend to.'" Fitz laughed. "You never change, do you?"

"No, generally I don't." He swept up Fitz easily into his arms and dashed up the stairs to the third floor, Fitz laughing all the way.

Oliver watched after them with a mix of curiosity and jealousy. He'd half expected the hungry vampires to enthrall and feed from him the second they reached home, and couldn't help a bit of disappointment that they hadn't. Perhaps that would come later. No doubt Fitz would be occupying his master's bed instead of him.

"Don't you think they're a bit ridiculous?" said Roger.

"Oh… I suppose they are, yes," said Oliver. It almost seemed a bit forbidden to admit that his master could be ridiculous, even though it had crossed his mind before. If he was going to have to accompany Roger while Alexander and Fitz entertained each other, he was glad that he seemed to be a very lucid thrall, unafraid of his master. That was a good sign, too, for what sort of vampire Fitz was. "Is there anything I can get for you? I could show you to a room, or if you wanted some food or drink…"

"I'd very much appreciate food and drink, if it's not too much trouble. The ship had ample food, but the serving times weren't ideal for a nocturnal schedule."

"Of course it isn't trouble," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. "How about a sandwich, then? The bread is yesterday's, but we have some fine ham and salami and other trimmings."

"That'll do. Thank you."

Oliver led Roger into the kitchen, casting one last glance up the stairs, wondering what his master and his master's friend were doing now.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Thank you for reading sixty parts of The Rare Bookseller! I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while.

Next week, the aftermath of Fitz's kidnapping in 1905.

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[porphyriosao3]

A Paladin Named Filth

"So... that Wroot character seemed to know you." Filth's massive shoulders sank a bit from where he was preparing the evening meal, but he nodded gamely.

"Aye." A flat response. Wyll certainly wasn't one to take a hint, but maybe...

"If you had met him before, why did you say nothing?" He cursed, beard bristling. Leave it to Lae'zel to jump in. "He might have been useful."

"He knew of me, like," Filth replied shortly. "Not proper me, ye ken." He cast his gaze to the symbol on his surcoat, hung up to form a makeshift shrine. The eye on the gauntlet seemed to stare back at him, judging as it always did. You know, it seemed to say. You know the proper path. With a deep sigh, he came back with plates and handed around the rations.

"I do not understand." Lae'zel barely glanced at her plate, taking it without a word of thanks as usual. "Either he knew you, or he did not." Helm's grace, she was young.

"Well..." He took a moment, said a quick prayer to the Vigilant One, then bit into the ham he'd sliced. When the taste of good salt meat hit he glanced down; proper food, for once. With a trace of a smile he looked up, a shred of good humor returning with actual food. "It's to do with my past. You'll have noticed I'm not the youngest here." An understatement - he was a good century older than anyone in camp except that poncy vampire. Filth was still unsure he should have let him live, but Helm's way was to judge each according to their acts and not their nature. Flawed as he was, he kept the faith.

"If you'd rather not say," Wyll said finally, cutting his eyes at Lae'zel, "don't let us pressure you into anything. It just seemed odd. We all have pasts we'd rather not dig up."

"Nay, lad, 's fine," Filth sighed. "I've told the roster of me sins many a time, another won't be the end." He chewed meditatively for a moment, then sat up into a proper position to speak. "I were a smith for years, me. Darkblood clan, not too strong, not too weak, we mined and dealt three days east o' Ust Natha. Got drafted to be a slaver. Brought out the worst in me as it does in many." Lae'zel made that chk noise she used to show disgust, but he ignored it. Not too pleased with himself either.

"A slaver?" Wyll was properly shocked, and Helm help him but these were all just kids he was traveling with. They were all so bloody young. "But... you're a paladin!"

"Aye, and so I am." Pale eyes cut across the circle. "And given that you're in thrall to the lass with the horns an' wings, maybe a little less of the outrage? I'm not proud of what I did. But you asked, and so I tell my tale." A chuckle from the darkness indicated that the leech was prowling about; fine if he heard as well. Filth's pride was one of many things he had sacrificed to Helm, and one more listener was nowt. "I enjoyed it more than I should - havin' others I could slap around, use as I saw fit. Got quite a reputation. I was Tav in those days, Black Tav, for my name in youth was Gustav, y'see." He stared into the fire, remembering those days in all their grime and misery. "Weren't like even the slavers had an easy life of it. Always at the beck an' call of the tallboys in the city, Drow tchukh. One day I took a gnome woman's child from her arms. Threw it in the water in front of her. She cursed me, and I laughed at the time. Weren't no way a babe could survive the march ahead, claimed I were doin' her a kindness." He was braced for the disgust on the faces before him. No more than he deserved, he knew. "That march went close to the surface, though, y'see, and turns out a war was on. We wasn't armored for much, seein' as we were just runnin' a coffle o' shorties to Ust Natha. Crew of soldiers from some army or another went through us like a hot knife through lard."

"No more than you deserved," Wyll said bitterly. "No man trusts a slaver." Lae'zel said nothing but her eyes were burning. It was clear she didn't disagree.

"Well, and nor should they. We weren't the most trustworthy lot, 's true." Filth stirred the fire to give his hands something to do. "So there I lay against the wall of the cave, dead stacked around me like ore in t' hopper. Turns out we all look pretty much the same in death. Oh yeah," he grinned over at Wyll, "they killed the slaves too. They didn't kill us for honor or glory or to save the poor shorties, nay... they killed us for bein' there, and because we were armed, and might be spies or scouts they said. Mostly they just killed us for meanness, and that's no more than we deserved. But there I sat for a day and more, guts spillin' out in my lap, before a light appeared." He swallowed tightly; some memories were more sensitive than others. "Man appeared. Full armor, him, and not a sign of tiredness, but he starts shiftin' the dead around, layin' em out, and patchin' me up. Said his god - Lord Helm - had sent him. Sent him to find... find me." He coughed to cover the roughness in his throat. "Said I could be more than I was."

"How did he know?" Lae'zel asked with uncharacteristic softness. "Who knew you were there?"

"Helm told him." Filth shrugged. "'Tis the way of things. And I'd been doin' some thinkin' of my own, sittin' there in the dark waitin' for scavengers or ghouls or who knows what to smell the blood and come. The errors of my life came clear, y'know? Since leavin' my forge I'd brought nothin' to anyone but misery and spite, me as well as them, and I was makin' the world a worse place by bein' in it. Seemed to me that dyin' was the kindest thing I could do. But my Lord had other plans." He bowed his head towards the tabard, the gold stitching of the watching eye glittering in the firelight. "And so I studied and squired under Kendrik, and came time I took the oath-name Filth. Filth for what I was, Filth for what I had done, and Filth for what I was sworn to root out. And so I go about, from now until I die - whether by this worm in me eye or the blade or fallin' in a gashin' hole, me - honorin' Helm for seein' more in me than I deserved, and helpin' those what haven't yet had a second chance to get one." He glanced around the campsite, taking in the various tents and spots set aside for their little group of misfits. "And speakin' of second chances, we won't get a second chance at risin' early. I'm for bed, me." Leaving a pensive crowd, he went and knelt in front of his surcoat. It never got easier to tell that story. He hoped they understood the second chance they were all being given. He certainly did.

[fangsanddaggers]

The stance does ease a primal prey part of his mind. He was an older human, stocky, well built and with plenty of power behind his frame despite the age. However, to place himself in a way that makes him less of a predator does wonders for his fraying mind.

However, the assumption has Astarion flinching like he'd been struck with a mace, making himself as small as possible as he idly stirred sugar into his coffee. Of course the human would think his stupid spur of the moment 'I want to show you the kindness you showed me' actions were selfish. In a way, they were, but not for the reasons the human assumed.

He snorts at the coffee comment, eyes rolling, forcing himself into that easy, suave mask as he turns to face the man, hiding half of it with the cup.

"Yes, and it seems I judged right in how bitter you like it. Squeezed right from the poor roasted things." He watches the human retreat to sit, and he wasn't sure how he felt with that. The action alone giving him a clear shot to the door, clear shot to book it out with some lame excuse.

Yet he lingers, trapped in place as he sipped the warm drink. It smelt like Roberto, warmed him like his kind touches and soft assurances through the night had. Soothes the anxiety as it summons thoughts of the man's gentle smile or the way his mustache tickled his neck.

Decent person.

"If only you knew." It was murmured into his cup, barely above a breath. He wanted to cry, to tell him everything, to confess his sins and beg for forgiveness, but he just snorts, that mask of a laugh rippling from him.

"Oh, my darling little human, I hunt animals, creatures of a less... Thinking sort." He tuts, finding himself circling the counter, though hesitant to go further, despite clearly wanting to. "I didn't dine on you when you slept, did I?" despite all of his training, the hurt was clear in both his voice and the way his eyes cast away.

Why did it hurt? It's nothing new, to be treated like a hungry mongrel.

But everything about Roberto was new.

"Besides, even if He would let me, I'd refuse to bite without express and informed consent from the other party involved." He sneered some of the words, looking like he regretted half of them before he sighed, slipping into the chair beside the human.

Again, he finds himself hunching down, staring at the drink rippling in his cup. How was he to speak of this, to explain the complex thoughts without being strange, without being too vulnerable.

"Vampire Spawn." He frowns at his words, but decides to accept them. It is, after all, a start of sorts.

"There's a strict difference between full blood Vampires and their spawn." He moves his head, pointing to the marks resting there. "For one, a vampire can create a spawn. A spawn cannot. My bite will do little more than pinch them leave the other feeling calm and at peace." or so he's figured from the way the animals he's managed to bite act.

"Most spawn will eat anything, same as vampires. Thinking creatures can only do wonders for better. Think of it like... Thinking creatures are likely a fine wine, whilst animals are the dime a dozen mead that alcoholics of a poor state get piss drunk on." there's a moments pause as he thumbs the handle of the mug. "At least, that's my assumption. I've never tried." Despite Gale offering, the moment he bled it made Astarion want to wretch, bless his soul for the offer however.

"I never wanted to be this way." No, too sensitive, he redirects with a shake of his head.

"A vampire sires spawn by killing a living being, burying them and they crawl from their graves. Not a fun experience, lungs filled with dirt and clay." It took months to cleanse them. "And spawn are nothing more than thralls to their masters." He spits the word, anger and bile rising, teeth grinding as he bared his fangs like a wild dog.

"I am not a good man, Roberto." He sighs, slipping to his feet then. "But I fear I have overstayed my welcome. The meal was less to garner my own and more a compulsion to give thanks." He moves to the stairs, needing to retreat, to escape, to flee.

"The night will remain one of my... Fondest memories. Thank you." with that, he finally retreated, abandoning his coffee and unable to meet the mans gaze, shame having him tug the shirt down just a little, to hide, to escape.

It's better to never stay when they fall asleep.

Roberto chuckles for a moment but the mood drops practically to the floor with what Roberto had assumed to be an innocent question. But Astarion keeps a careful distance away, even after handing Roberto the plate he'd made. Keeping his hands full and keeping out of reach... He was afraid of being hurt again.

Roberto leans back against the counter, legs crossed in a deliberate way that would make it pretty difficult to leap after Astarion even if he wanted to. It's putting himself at a disadvantage but he does it on purpose to try and keep the elf a little more at ease. Just a bit. Still, his eyebrow arches at the term 'affliction'. He was going to be miffed if Astarion had gone and given him something without warning him.

He listens though, because he needs to know what he's doing next and because this is obviously something that Astarion is upset about. There was a difference between a 'killer' and a 'murderer' and while the elf is definitely on the shady side, Roberto doesn't get the feeling he's inclined to slit Roberto's throat or anything. Comparable to Wolfwood maybe, but he'd read that kid all wrong at first. Maybe he's just going soft in his old age. Maybe it's recklessness from having died. He's not sure yet.

Blood huh? Specifically? Well, admittedly that's one of the weirder and slightly more disturbing things he's heard about but there's stranger people here and he's met the face of the Worms, one of his kids is a Plant, and he was killed by a little girl who could summon nails out of thin air.

So not that outrageous in the grand scheme of things.

"Huh. Planning on having your own breakfast after I'm done with mine?" That would be one reason to hang out and feed him but honestly, Roberto doubts it. Not with the way Astarion is acting. "My 'bean water' is the only thing keeping me up in the mornings, show some respect to time-honored traditions," he huffs with amusement and takes his plate to sit down.

"Look, I've seen some weird shit. You seem to me like a decent guy who's been through some... rough times. I don't want to know where you get your meals and as long as there's no abrupt disappearances and you don't try your hand at snacking on me, I'm not gonna think too hard about it." He wouldn't have taken him home if he thought Astarion was a bad person.

[rhapsodyred-writes]

"I like seeing you smile."

"I like seeing you smile."

Ash froze, all except the smile that you commented on, which dropped in shock. His gaze remained locked onto something in the middle distance for a few seconds before it slowly slid to you.

"what?" He asked.

You know he heard you perfectly fine. You also know that Ash isn't particularly good at accepting compliments - or any sort of positive feedback, really. You had decided to make it your personal mission to try and acclimate him to it, but it was going to take some effort.

"I said I like seeing you smile." And you smiled to punctuate your statement.

His sockets narrowed, and the look he fixed you with was suspicious, as though he expected some kind of trap.

"uh huh." He made the noises of agreement, but he clearly didn't believe you.

Part of you was beginning to wonder if you should have just enjoyed the moment. After all, if you hadn't said anything, he'd probably still be smiling. But Ash was your friend, and even though he was comfortable enough to call you that, any genuine smile from him was so rare.

"I mean it!" You said.

"sure," His tone was easy, but the look on his face was almost...sarcastic. "you can mean it all you want." A sly look crossed his face and before you knew it, he had you in a kind of thrall. "but if you want to see that smile again, you're gonna have to work for it."

He'd issued you a challenge and if the look on his face was any indication, he didn't really expect you to follow through - least of all succeed.

You puffed out your cheeks and took the bait.

"Watch me."