#i know we're past the point of just vampires but

[kowaindar0u]

[ with @nxmelessfighter ]

After two miserable years in captivity, Sengo is finally free.

Well...

It hasn't been quite that simple. But he's choosing to push that deep, deep down inside for the time being, because right now... He's walking!

Or... stumbling, really, like a newborn calf.

His strong, powerful tail, which made him agile as could be in the water, had instead split into these two clumsy legs in a process he could only describe as agonizing.

It would be a bit embarrassing, the reactions garnered from the few people out at this time, surely put off by his strange and struggling manner of movement (and definitely not by his sheer lack of clothing)-- but he's far too busy staring in wonder at everything around him.

So many of the buildings are dark, and their doors don't open when he tries to pull at their handles. But then he sees one with light coming from inside-- he spots the word 'pharmacy' which he can more or less infer the meaning of-- and excitedly rushes to the doors, using the wall for support... He pulls, and it opens!

Excited and almost overwhelmed by this new discovery, he clambers inside, wide ochre eyes darting back and forth across everything.

Shelves, boxes, bottles, bags, lights... So much! Oh, is that... food? He moves toward this aisle, haphazardly using shelves as a guide along the way, knocking off items with mumblings of "oops...! oh dear..."

There is a particularly shiny metallic bag that catches his eye, with 'chips' printed on it near the bottom... He doesn't know what they are, but if they're in such a pretty bag, they must be delicious, right?

He grabs the bag and haphazardly rips it open, half the bag's contents flying out and to the ground, and starts munching.

"Oh? Yummy...!"

[captainsophiestark]

Oblivious

Damon Salvatore x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024! Requested by @elenavampire21 - hope you like it! Thanks for being patient while I got it done!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Day Thirty-One Prompt: "It's always been you."

Summary: You've always felt like the lowest priority out of everyone in the Mystic Falls group, but Damon disagrees.

Word Count: 1,905

Category: Fluff, light Angst

A/N: That's a wrap on Fictober baby! Woohoo! And Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I hummed to myself as I scanned my bookshelf, trying to decide which one to grab. Since moving into college at Whitmore, I'd mostly just brought my favorites, since I didn't have much book space to spare in my single dorm room. But bringing all of my favorites made it a little hard to decide what to read on any given day.

I'd just about made up my mind, actually reaching out to grab one when the door to my room went flying open, smashing into the opposite wall.

I whirled around, my fight or flight response kicking into overdrive as I tried to remember where the nearest stake was in my room. I'd been dragged into the supernatrual drama just by being tangental to a certain friend group in Mystic Falls, which meant I was on high alert for supernatural threats. This weekend in particular, everyone I knew was back in Mystic Falls for a visit and a party.

At least, they were supposed to be. As I whipped around towards the door, I came face to face with none other than Damon Salvatore.

My heart started a very annoying gymnastics routine. I'd had a crush on Damon for a long time, despite knowing all his supernatural secrets, but with Elena around he'd never bothered to give me the time of day. I'd made my peace with it, more or less, but suddenly finding him standing in the doorway of my room, his piercing blue eyes fixed absolutely on me, still sent my heart racing.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I demanded, fixing Damon with the fiercest glare I could muster. Probably not very fierce at the moment, but I did my best.

"You should really keep this locked," Damon drawled instead of answering me. I scowled as he closed the door behind him, then took a few steps closer to me.

"We're in a crowded student dorm hall. It's normally not a problem."

"Well, it's a problem now."

Damon grinned at me, making a point of flashing his fangs. My scowl deepened.

"Do you not have to be invited in to student housing?" I asked, trying to deflect and distract Damon from paying any attention to my heartbeat. His grin only widened.

"Nope. I've used that to my advantage many times."

I tried to keep a grimace off my face at that. I knew enough about Damon and his history to realize he was refering to past hookups as much as anything else. Not my favorite subject to get into with him.

I cleared my throat, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind. I met Damon's gaze again and raised an eyebrow, going for casual and just hoping I could kind of pull it off.

"Why are you here?" I said. "Aren't you supposed to be hosting a party in Mystic Falls?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at that party with me?" Damon asked, voice low as he took another few steps towards me. I let out a little huff and looked away.

"Believe it or not, I'm not in the mood to go running back home every weekend that I'm at college. I have work to do and people I want to spend time with this weekend, both of which require me to stay here."

Damon stepped even closer to me, getting in my space and moving to try to see my expression. When I continued to look away from him, he took my chin in his hand and turned me to face him. I scowled, but didn't pull away.

"I don't believe you."

"What do you mean 'you don't believe me'?"

"I mean, when you explained your reasoning to me just now, your heartbeat told me you were lying." I frowned, but Damon just leaned in a little closer, his grip still tight on my chin. "So why aren't you in Mystic Falls?"

I huffed and rolled my eyes, finally pulling back and out of his grip. He let me go, but took a few steps to follow me across the room as I walked away.

"I'm just sick of all the supernatural drama," I said. "It's been nice to be here, building something separate from which vampire we're trying to kill this week, or which werewolf is trying to kill us. I'm happy here, and I don't want to blow all that up by going home and finding myself in the middle of the supernatural drama again."

Damon hummed. Nothing I'd said was a lie, technically, so he couldn't call me out like he had earlier. I kept my back to him so he couldn't read it in my face either.

"I guess that's the truth," Damon said, his voice way too casual. "But I know you well enough to know it's not the whole truth."

I snorted, then whipped around to face Damon with a scowl.

"Why do you care? I gave you an explanation, and it's the truth, so it's all you're getting."

Damon shook his head as he stepped even closer to me.

"Not gonna work for me, sweetheart. I'm not leaving here without the whole truth."

"Why? Damon, seriously, why is this so important to you?"

"Because. Now are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to compel it out of you?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at me, but I just rolled my eyes.

"We both know I'm on vervain, so knock it off. Just go back to Mystic Falls. Flirt with Elena to mess with your brother, whatever! Just leave me alone!"

"I don't want to flirt with Elena," Damon said, taking another step towards me. His voice was low, and more serious than I usually heard it, as his eyes locked onto mine. "I want to flirt with you, no one else. It's always been you."

Everything about Damon's tone and body language told me he was serious, but I knew what a good actor he could be when he wanted to. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and squaring my shoulders to face Damon.

"Oh please. It's always been Elena, from day one with you! And the handful of times it hasn't been Elena? It's been just about anybody else in our group besides me. Caroline, that reporter Andie, the vampire Rose who kidnapped Elena... hell, even Rebekah Mikaelson! But never once me, Day."

Damon's frown had deepend, and he actually looked a little wounded. He took another step closer, almost putting us chest to chest, and opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but I put up a hand to stop him before he could get a word out.

"It's fine, Damon. Seriously, it's not a crime for you to not reciprocate my feelings. And I'm not avoiding Mystic Falls all because of some one-sided crush. But, seriously. Bonnie, Caroline, and Elena were supposed to be in a triple together. Nobody even checked with me, if I might want to join them in a dorm, since we were all going to Whitmore. I know I got sucked into the group by accident and not really by friendship, but for fuck's sake, I've thrown myself headfirst into this world and trying to help you guys, and still, it's like I'm barely even present. So I decided to say screw it, and I've made a bunch of great friends here outside of all this vampire shit, and I'm happy with that. So just go back to your party and leave me alone. I'd say pass the message on, but I doubt if anybody else'll notice."

Damon's frown had been steadily deepening the whole time I'd been speaking, and now he looked truly upset. I'd confessed a little more to him in the heat of the moment than I'd been planning to, but my words were still true. Maybe it was time for a full break from the rest of the Mystic Falls gang, and maybe this was how I got it done.

"Are you... absolutely blind?" Damon demanded, reaching out to take my hands before I could stop him. "I'll admit, when I first met Elena, she looked so much like Katherine that I was a little hung up on her. But I got over her when I got over Katherine. All I've been doing since a few weeks after I met you is trying to flirt with you! You've always shut me down!"

"What? Damon, you're crazy-"

"I abandoned Ric at the bar to buy you a drink and play pool. I blew off Stefan to go to some stupid Mystic Falls festival with you. For god's sake, I even asked you on a date after your graduation!"

"No no no, that was playful flirting. And the date thing was to make Elena jealous!"

"The date thing was not to make Elena jealous!"

I laughed, mostly out of panic, shaking my head and stepping back from Damon. He didn't let me get far. He followed me across the room until my back hit the wall, and then stepped into my space again. I looked up at him with wide eyes, and I knew he could hear just how fast my heart was beating.

"Damon, come on. You're... you. If you'd had a thing for me for over a year, there's no way I wouldn't know about it!"

"That's what I kept telling myself," he muttered. The faintest possible smile made its way onto his face. "I'm actually a little relieved it turns out you're just oblivious."

I snorted, but my heart had picked up speed again, which honestly shouldn't have been possible. If Damon were lying... well, it didn't make sense for Damon to be lying. There was no reason for him to come all the way down here, especially while everyone else in our group was throwing a party at his house, all for a lie with no real motivation.

I searched Damon's face, this time without a scowl. He smirked back at me and let his gaze slowly, clearly wander down to my mouth. I laughed.

"You're serious, aren't you? You're telling the truth."

"Of course I'm telling the truth," he said. His voice was more sincere and serious than it had been since he'd walked into my room as the smirk on his face became more of a smile. Slowly, he let one hand wander down to rest on my waist. I bit my lip, considering for just a second, then surged forward and kissed him.

Damon wasted no time pushing me against the wall and kissing me back. I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting myself get lost in the moment.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to Mystic Falls?" I breathed between kisses as Damon moved along my neck and jaw. "You're missing a party in your own house."

"I'm sure. I hid all my good booze before I left. And I hate to rub it in, but..." Damon pulled back just enough to look me in the eye and let a predatory grin spread across his face. "I'm pretty happy you ended up in a single dorm room right now."

I laughed, something I honestly never thought I'd be able to do about the way I'd ended up in this single dorm room. Leave it to Damon to find a way to make it happen, despite the odds.

It'd taken a lot more drama and heartache than it should've to get here. Still, as Damon wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight to his chest, I got the distinct impression that it would be worth it.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[fanfics-with-coffee]

Wants

More ramblings of an insomniac, still not proofread but i wanna throw this out here. We're back on our smut roll as well!

No one really cared what Astarion wanted or didn't want to do. He'd stopped resisting at some point, just letting whomever had higher status overrule him even when it came to his own body. But you, you didn't do that. You never asked him to do something he didn't want. So he asked himself; what did he want? You. He wanted you. Could he have you?

Genre: Smut Pairing: Astarion x (fem)reader Kinks: PiV, little bit of orgasm control, biting, marking, dirty talk Words: 7400+ Need something to listen to? This is what I listened to while writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XkxtmnNB3RI55o414xpdx?si=ef01f7ab913f4a26

Astarion wouldn’t say that you liked him per se, it’s doubtful you even enjoyed his company unlike how you enjoyed the company of say Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet you couldn’t possibly dislike him either, after all; who let’s a vampire drink from them if you didn’t at least tolerate him. 

“Is he yours? He’s quite handsome, that can’t be a coincidence, you know how to pick them.” Her eyes scanned him, a smile tugging at her lips as he seemed to evaluate his very existence.

“...You mean Astarion? I didn’t pick him, he’s here ‘cus he wants to be. Besides, if I knew him beforehand it’s doubtful I’d pick him anyways.” You replied, arms crossed over your chest.

“Hah! You’re funny, well he’s clearly under your command anyways. Won’t you let me borrow him? I’ve always wanted to be bitten by a vampire you see…” She drew closer, her eyes still looking him up and down. Nausea grew in his belly, his throat closing up.

Astarion wouldn’t say he liked you either per se, you didn’t make yourself the most personable exactly. You were blunt, which he enjoyed, as long as it wasn’t directed at him. Yet you weren’t afraid to speak your mind when he tried to play with you. Every and all attempts to get under your skin was answered with distinct indifference, not full rejection but without skipping a beat you continued whatever line of thought you had started. The most he could pull from you was the occasional laugh at his antics, mocking his clearly practiced recitals of lines he’d used dozens of times on hundreds of other people. You often replied with your own dry sense of humor. Sometimes though, he could swear that your cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but it was hard to tell since these few times were also those when you promptly turned your face away from him, suddenly a lot more interested in a bird or bush. And if he pushed, you were suddenly convinced you heard Karlach break something or Gale needing help with supper. He considered giving up, treating you with the same distance he kept to the other companions, yet you always seemed to gravitate back to his tent, to the spot next to him or simply to wherever he was. He wouldn’t say he liked you, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed your company.

“Well, I’m a spawn technically so you know, not a true vampire.” He managed to keep his voice light and comical, a half-hearted attempt at dissuading her, to keep her hands to herself. “Besides, I think I’d like to keep my teeth to myself this time.”

“Mh… Well no matter, you’re pretty enough to make it an overseeable difference. But I didn’t ask you, spawn.” The word was an insult. “I was talking to your commander here, or is it master? I can make it worth your while.”

The bite in your words and the general lack of give to his pushing and pulling gave him a weird sense of comfort. He could spew whatever lines he’d used before, chewed up and spit back out over and over again and you just… moved past them. You were bored by them, but not by him. He felt comfortable telling you about Cazador, about his scars, both physical and mental. You’d never gone too deep, but you had listened and you hadn’t let it color the way you treated him. There was a certain respect to the way you kept him at a distance, he couldn’t trap you under his thumb even if he tried. Yet you stayed besides him.

“Why in the nine hells are you asking me? I told you, I don’t own him, he can do whatever he wants. Mostly anyways. But he seems to be disinterested in whatever you’re offering so.” You didn’t spare him a glance, instead keeping your eyes on the drow woman. You were cautious too.

“Tsk, well if you’re unwilling to barter, I guess I’ll just have to go directly to the source.” She looked annoyed for a second before putting a face of seduction, temptation. She sensually moved her hair away from her neck, draping it over her opposing shoulder and tilting it towards him. She began to walk closer. Astarion could feel panic rise in him, instinctually taking a step back, unsure of what to do. “Come on, spawn, isn’t this what you were born to do? Feed?”

And when he was desperate, hungry and weak that night in the forest, his first instinct was to feed from you. Not because he hated you, far from it. But because he respected you and because he knew that if you found out; you might not judge. He hadn’t been careful enough when he hovered over you, accidentally waking you from your slumber. He had scrambled, fearing that this was it for him. He had slipped up and now any and all trust he had accumulated, though perhaps unfounded, would be wasted and he’d be banished if not worse. Yet you understood. He doesn’t know why, but it seemed like you did. And that night you let him feed from you, despite the pain it undoubtedly caused. And in the morning, you pretended like nothing had happened, like last night was as peaceful as all the others.

Maybe he did like you, just a little bit. You’d at least earned that much. But he had done nothing to earn that same sentiment. 

Yet…

“One step closer to him and I will be the one to spill your blood instead. He said he didn’t want you or whatever it is you’re offering.” 

You had taken a single step to place yourself between the woman and Astarion, keeping her from getting any closer to him. It was doubtful that you’d actually do anything against her in the very center of Absolutist territory. But he wasn’t certain, the way you firmly placed your feet on the ground and the way he could see your muscles tense beneath your armor from this far away told him that you just might. There’s the distinct tension of magic in the air, crackling just beneath the surface of the weave but enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. It lasts only a brief moment before the drow relents.

“Fine, do as you wish. What use do you have for a vampire that won’t even do something as simple and natural as bite a willing victim? Even if he is a spawn.”

“What reasons I have for keeping him around is none of your damn business. Now did you have anything more interesting to say or are we done here?”

There was nothing else you needed from her and as quickly as things had escalated, it had passed. It was still a couple hours before you decided to call it a day and lead them back to the camp to plan your next move and eat dinner. Astarion hadn’t brought up what had happened with Araj the whole time, yet it kept replaying in his head. If he could dream, he would’ve assumed this was the pleasant relief of sleep. But it wasn’t, you had stood up for him. Not only that, you had kept him from doing something he would regret, because he knows that if you hadn’t stepped in or even asked him to do it… He would’ve. Weak willed as he was after all the times he had broken his own boundaries for others. 

Night in the Shadowlands was somehow darker than the days, despite the lack of sun no matter the time. And as if the darkness could swallow any sound, silence lingered in the camp. Everyone either occupied with their own issues or idly putting their hands to work managing their gear. Astarion had wandered away from his tent and from the campfire, safe thanks to the pixie’s blessing and comforted in the shadows. It was a sense of familiarity that was bittersweet after todays events. 

The air was cold, the breeze rustling the blood red leaves of the few trees that could survive this darkness. The temperature didn’t bother him, he had long ago forgotten how cool the nights got. He could smell the dampness of the earth and of the rotting trees, the smoke of the campfire a vague note beneath it all. He surely smelled of smoke as well, it stuck to his clothes and hair despite how much he tried to cover it. ‘Rugged’ had never been a good look on him, he much preferred the sweet notes of incense and wine. But the worries of everyday issues were forgotten as he let himself fill his lungs with the fresh air.

Crack

The sounds of footsteps brought him back to the moment and he quickly turned around, the thought of a shadow cursed boar or harper still a relevant danger. Instead he was met with a friendly face. A friendly frowning face.

“What are you doing out here? You didn’t even bring a torch or anything, no one knew where you had gone.” You stopped a few meters away from him, half expecting to be able to return to the warmth and glow of the campsite since you had found the lost vampire. A light cantrip had been cast on the crossbow you kept strapped to your back, you always kept it within reach.

“Oh it’s just you, hah I thought I was about to be ambushed for a second. Were you looking for me? Awh you even asked the others where I was, how cute.” He teased, giving you a playful smile before turning his back to you once again. He heard you sigh before your footsteps grew closer.

“You shouldn’t wander off while we’re here.” Your words held no weight, you knew you couldn’t stop him if he was to actually wander away from camp. They were more like an attempt to keep any guilty conscious from getting to you if he did get hurt. But he still liked the thought that you might actually have been worried. “...Are you looking for something to feed on?”

“Around these parts? Gods no, I wouldn’t even touch a dead squirrel with a ten foot pole around here, not after that damned raven. I’ve accepted that I’ll just have to make do until we’re in sunnier parts.” He could feel his stomach writhe at the thought of something to dig his fangs into. He knew you had let him feed from you before but he had never been the one to ask, it’d feel like breaking an unspoken rule.

“Makes sense, those things came out of nowhere. Even the corpses have been cursed…” There's a pause and hesitation to you, an abnormality in your conversations. “Why didn’t you drink from the drow?”

He knew you’d ask, yet his face grimaced at the mere thought of her and her blood.

“Bah, she’s a blood alchemist, who knows what kind of stuff is running through her blood? I’m sure I wouldn’t be allowed to keep anything down if I drank from her.” He quickly recovered from the unintentional show of genuine disgust. “Besides, what’s the fun in a willing victim?” He turned his head to look at your face finally, putting on another playful smile and hoping you’ll take his joke as a response.

You don’t. Instead you cross your arms and raise your eyebrows ever so slightly at him, waiting for the real response. He’s unwilling to give it and instead looks away, gazing down into the valley beneath the cliff you both stood on. 

“C’mon, give me a real answer Astarion.” You lightly bounced your shoulder against his, the casual touch a surprise but not an unwelcomed one.

“Ah, you always have to dig your nose into things, don’t you… Fine, I simply didn’t want to. But that’s no reason to turn down whatever aid she might’ve had…”

“It’s as good a reason as any.”

Silence.

You hadn’t judged him. You just… took his choice at face value. Did you really nearly spill blood on the floor of Moonrise towers simply because he didn’t want to bite her?

“That’s it?”

“...What? Is there another reason you didn’t want to? You should’ve just told me from the beginning then, but go on.”

It’s almost funny how seemingly clueless you are. A dry laugh escapes him.

“No, it’s true. I simply didn’t want to. But you’re just so casual about it! Who knows what kind of powers she could’ve given us? But you decided to threaten her instead, it’s highly unlikely she’ll sell us as much as a health potion or even an antidote from now on.” He waves his hands around, frustrated by your seeming lack of care.

“You said no.” You shrugged.

“I-” He pauses, dumbfounded. “I said no… I didn’t want to bite her and you respected that… You even stood up to her for me, even though you don’t like me. I just can’t seem to understand you.”

You suddenly look just as confused as he did a moment ago, turning to fully face him for the first time since you joined him in the dark.

“...Who in the hells said I didn’t like you?”

“Well… Well no one said it, but I mean it’s not like you enjoy my company. It’s obvious everytime we talk. You don’t even give me as much as a smile when I tell you you’re beautiful, and when I try to playfully ask you to bed you just mock me. Yet you always come wandering over to me and so I try again, I mean why else would you want to talk to me? I may not be a mindreader, darling, but you’re sort of sending mixed signals here. I thought we just acted on the basis of respect here.”

Did you want him to try harder? Or stop fully with his advances? He really didn’t know what you wanted.

“I… Well…” In the darkness, with you backlit by your crossbow, he might be mistaken but there seems to be a blush creeping onto your features. “Didn’t you ever think that maybe I just don’t know how to respond?”

Oh.

Oh.

Aren’t you just adorable? Smugness builds in his chest and he opens his mouth, about to speak but you’re quicker.

“Besides, it’s obvious you’re just a flirt and I… I didn’t like being so affected by someone who isn’t serious. It’s embarrassing falling for something that's so fake, so practiced. So I ignored the flirting, I knew it was just lighthearted fun after all.  And I still like you outside of the compliments and teasing.” You hold your crossed arms even tighter together, unable to look at him. Instead you watch the slow fog rolling across the barren land. Your face lit by the soft glow of the moon just above Last Light Inn.

Astarion hadn’t even had the thought that you simply hovered around him because you… liked him. It was such a simple answer and yet it would’ve been the last thing he could’ve guessed. 

He liked you too.

A lot.

A lot more than he had previously allowed himself to feel. Could he even allow it now? What if he had ruined his chances of something more than… than what already was. The status quo had grown comfortable, predictable.

“I see…”

It’s all he can say. He can see that it wasn’t what you had hoped he’d say even if you weren’t looking at him.

A moment passes in silence.

There’s a look on your face suddenly, it looks almost pained or embarrassed, maybe it was both but just as quickly as it had flashed over your features it was gone. You let out a sigh and let your arms fall to the side, turning away from the outlook, clearly about to leave.

“Well that was… the worst. Anyways, I’m heading back to camp. Take your time, I’ll make sure there's supper left for you when you come back.”

Astarion realizes in a heartbeat that he was allowed to want something more.

You don’t even get one step away from where you stood before a hand grabs your arm with unnatural speed, holding you back from moving any further away. You nearly jump out of your skin by the motion, staring at the rogue. His face and eyes now lit by your crossbow, his eyes are wide as he watches you like prey. A shiver runs up your spine, he’d never looked at you like this before.

“Earlier today, when Araj asked you to let me bite her, you said I could do whatever I wanted.” His eyes don’t leave yours and there's something about their intensity that makes your cheeks heat up.

“Mostly, anyways…” You repeat what you had told Araj.

That seems to have been all the confirmation Astarion needed, suddenly closing the gap between you as he takes a step closer and pulls you into him. You catch yourself on him, the sudden movement taking you by pure surprise. Before you can register what has happened properly, his other hand has grabbed your chin in between his thumb and forefinger with a firm grip and tilted your head up to face his. His unnaturally cool breath hits your lips as he’s leaned in, inches from yours but he stopped there. You’re trapped in his presence, it’s overwhelming in a way you always tried to avoid. But you wouldn’t dare move now, afraid to ruin whatever was happening.

“Then I want to kiss you…” His words are low, soft even.

“...I’d like that…”

In an instant his lips hit yours, soft and velvety. They feel just like you had thought so many times when you’d watched him talk. They’re cool compared to yours, something you hadn’t thought about but it somehow made everything feel so much more alive. Every soft stroke of his lips against yours was vivid as they parted and pushed up against each other, over and over again. The hand that had grabbed your face had smoothly slid to the back of your head, making sure he had you where he wanted you. The other hand had left your arm and was pulling your body against his, keeping you as close as he could physically keep you.

Astarion pushed into your body with a want, a need and a hunger you hadn’t ever seen him exhibit before.

He pulled away from your lips too soon. You didn’t realize how much you needed air before it filled your lungs abruptly in a labored breath.

In the glow of the moon and your makeshift light you could see his face. He was smiling at you, his fangs just barely peeking out from behind his lips. His eyes weren’t as wide anymore, instead crinkled at the edges from his smile but the look of predator remained in them still. He needed you.

“You taste divine, my dear.” You try to scoff, the comment was stupid in relation to simple kisses after all. But you don’t get much of a chance to react to his flirtatious attitude before he’s leaned back in, this time hovering over your neck with his mouth. His nose nudges the underside of your ear as he keeps your head still with the hand still firmly holding the back of your neck.

“But I want to taste your blood, if you’ll let me.”

Goosebumps spread down your arms and your breath catches in your throat. The hidden meaning of what he’s asking of you isn’t lost, not after today’s events. He wants your vulnerability, your submission, your blood. You had always been the one to tell him when he could feed from you, now he’s asking directly to do so. He wants to see your trust in him. That even when he’s a starving animal, he won’t hurt you, won’t take more than he needs. 

And he wants to show you how much he wants you.

His teeth graze over the soft skin of your neck, waiting for you to give him the sign. You nod.

His teeth pierce your skin, familiar pain shoots from the bite. You clench your teeth for a second before you relax, letting out a shaky breath. The pain dulls with his hands slowly starting to roam your body, one carefully tangling in your hair as he brings it up. He takes a soft grasp on it, using it to meaningfully guide your head to the side and giving him more space to drink from you. You don’t provide any resistance, all hesitations towards his advances were being washed away with each wave of pleasure and pain.

There’s no rush to him, no tension as he takes his time to enjoy you. Instead of the usual controlled and precise way he usually fed from you, when you both believed it to simply be an act of survival. Now he lets his tongue lap over the wound, the odd feeling of your hot blood and his cool tongue intermingling against your skin. He momentarily leaves the spot to kiss up your neck, intentionally letting your blood drip down and leave a trail as you shudder from the pleasure. His body is still firmly pushed against yours, his free hand carefully sneaking under your shirt to push against your bare skin. He’s pulling you against him and you've realized there's a rhythm to it, a slow and teasing tact to his grinding. It feels good, being so enveloped in him. When he feels ready again, he dips down to lick up the strip of scarlet that had formed, finishing with an open mouth kiss back where he started. The sharp inhale you make is punctuated by a soft moan, giving away your feelings and you realize you’ve been caught enjoying this maybe a little too much.

Embarrassment burns through you as Astarion pulls back to watch your face, a chuckle rumbling in his chest and spilling out between his lips, putting fuel to your fire.

“Now wasn’t that just adorable, I never expected you to make such cute sounds. Why haven’t you let me hear those when I’ve fed from you before?” He’s messing with you, a playfully mean glint to his eyes.

“You know why.” You say defiantly.

“Maybe…” He pretends to think about it, leaning back into you to place soft kisses along your jawline. The hand in your hair keeps you in place as he does. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“It feels good… this time…” You whisper but you know he’s heard you by the way you feel him smile against your skin.

“Is that so? I didn’t know you were such a masochist but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, who else would be so turned on by being bitten by a vampire.” He mocks you, the way he laughs leading to even more embarrassment and frustration coursing through your body. Partially by the way his laugh makes desire shoot right to your core.

He’s mean but it somehow turns you on even more, though you’d never tell him that. This is what you were trying to avoid after all, being so easily wrapped around his finger and put under his control. A part of you is still fighting his control and you try to step on his foot as payback.

Your foot only hits soft dirt as he quickly moves his own. Suddenly the grip in your hair is tightened and he pulls your head back further, forcing you to stare into his eyes directly. You’re scared that you were going to be met with anger or even hurt over your sudden and involuntary rejection. Yet all you’re met with is delight when you look into his eyes, his heavy breathing filling the night air with the smell of blood. 

“There it is, I always did enjoy the way you pushed back. I was worried you’d have gone soft on me.” He seemed ecstatic by your actions and you flushed again, he really did like it. “But just to make sure, darling… What do you want?”

For a moment you’re frozen, your head spinning from everything happening and partially from the blood loss. Not to mention the blood that had pooled somewhere further below. Yet worry brewed in the back of your mind and without thinking you blurted something out.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

You needed to know that this was what he wanted, despite him having taken the main lead, you wanted to make sure he had an out and that your own desires wouldn’t shackle him too.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re too considerate. But I strongly believe we want the same thing right now.”

“I want you.” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could think again and Astarion drank them up like wine spilled from the bottle.

“That’s what I thought,” he kisses you again, the taste of iron still fresh on his lips. “I want you too, afterall.”

His kisses distract you as his skillful fingers leave your hair and skin, instead grabbing the buckle of the crossbow holster that was strapped across your chest. He can't seem to keep his mouth quiet while he does it though, not that you should expect Astarion to be able to keep his mouth from running.

“I want you below me, I want to hear you gasp and cry out in pleasure…” He’s breathless, wrangling the strap of leather over your head, mindlessly chucking the crossbow somewhere nearby. The light still reaches you two, if just barely. Darkness claws it’s way closer, you pray it’s enough to keep you hidden away from wandering companions who wonder where you’ve gone. “I want you exposed and naked, darling, I want to dig my teeth into places only you and I will see.”

His fingers dig the rest of your tucked shirt out of your pants, his nails pleasantly scratching against your skin as he grabs bunches of the fabric and pull it up over your head as well. The cold air is suddenly intruding on your warm skin and you gasp. Astarion is quick to place his lips onto the newly exposed skin, placing kisses across your collarbone and to your shoulder.

“I want to feel your warmth against me, I want you to take me as you dig your nails into my back. I want to push you down just to feel you push back.” Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as his own hands grab your behind, using the leverage to once again pull you in close. You can feel the hardness that had grown between his legs. He keeps going, talking in a daze in between the kisses. You don’t know if he’s drunk on your blood or just aroused, maybe it’s a combination of the two. He’s grown warmer to the touch thanks as your blood reinvigorates him. “I want you to feel me, feel every thrust as I ruin you. I want to tease you until you cry, I want to punish you for holding back on me this whole time. I want you to feel what you’ve done to me.”

You don’t get a moment to respond to him, you don’t even know what you could say. He takes your hand in his as he helps you both lower yourselves to the ground, the grass tickling the palm of your hand as you find purchase. He pushes himself over you, his knees firmly placed between your thighs, still holding your hand to push you down until you're laying below him.

“I want you to want me, just as I am.”

There’s a vulnerability to his voice and his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly as he takes a moment to take you in. You look up at him, his white curls a little more messy than when you arrived and his lips a little more flushed. The moon is still high in the sky and though not as bright as usual, it’s enough to shine down on him and he looks… Ethereal. 

You take the pause in the flow to heave yourself forwards, pushing back and he lets himself fall back to sit on his knees as you kiss him again, slightly surprised. 

“I do, Astarion, gods be damned I do.”

You can’t take it anymore, he’s still fully dressed and you're desperate to see more of him and tired of being the only one exposed. Your hands grab at his shirt, messily working it out of his pants with a furrowed brow. A smile grows on his face and he laughs at your clumsiness before deciding to help you out. It only takes a moment for his own shirt to be discarded in the grass somewhere nearby. 

“You’re so forwards, did I really rile you up so much? I thought you didn’t like it when I ran my mou-” You interrupt him with a forceful kiss and he doesn’t hesitate to lean into it. Your hands finally touch his bare chest, letting your nails lightly scratch his skin as you run them further down. You feel him shudder.

“I like hearing you talk and you can run your mouth for hours but…” Your breaths are heavy as your hands reach his thighs, softly grabbing his legs. “I need you to touch me while you do it…” You’re trying to be bold but the desperation seeps through your voice and you look up at him through your eyelashes, unable to fully face him.

“Shit… Aren’t you just perfect? Who am I to deny you what you need…” He gives in to you, pushing you back enough to let him untie the lacing on your pants. It only takes a moment of shuffling until he’s rather expertly slid your pants off of you, leaving you in your undergarments. His hands grab your knees and part them enough for him to settle back inbtween them before they slide up your thighs. You're already working on the lacing at the front of your bra, pulling and tugging on the ribbons hurriedly. It gets even harder when Astarion decides he wants to taste you again, his lips finding your neck and hungrily licking for the taste your blood as left. He’s sucking hard enough that you’re rather certain there will be a bruise in the morning but you don’t care enough to reprimand him now. 

“Having some issues there, darling?” He teases as he feels you continue to loosen your bra, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

“No, it’s fine, ah! There, I got it!” You finally get it loose enough to pull over your head but Astarion doesn’t waste any time. As soon as you’ve managed to get it above your chest, his mouth has found your breast and taken a nipple inbetween his lips. Your reaction is instantaneous as you arch your back into him with a loud gasp, your arms freezing above your head with the bra still tangled between them. 

His cold tongue swirls around the bud skillfully and you're sure you can almost feel his fangs grazing against the sensitive skin. You're unable to keep quiet and even when you purse your lips together, the sounds betray you. But Astarion prides himself on his multitasking, one hand finally reaching below the edge of your panties. You’re already drenched thanks to his previous actions.

“My-my, you’re soaked. How often have you imagined this? Everytime you’ve let me feed from you? Everytime we’ve been alone together? Or just when I’ve put the thought in your head, hm?” His fingers slide between your wet lips, slowly spreading them as a finger found and began to circle your clit, not quite touching it.

“It’s not like tha- ah!” He doesn’t let you finish, instead taking the moment you opened your mouth to slide two fingers into you, curling them ever so slightly.

“What did you say?” He mocked confusion, continuing to slowly thrust his fingers into you.

“I… I haven’t…” You manage to get out between moans and heavy breaths, your brain going into overdrive trying to focus on what you’re saying. Astarion clicks his tongue and suddenly his free hand has pinched your nipple inbetween two fingers and his thrusting has gotten quicker.

“Lying is a sin, didn’t you know that my dear? Are you afraid of hurting me? Here I was, hoping you’d think of me daily. The thought of you touching yourself just because of my bite would simply delight me.” He rolls your nipple inbetween his fingers and you can’t think anymore, all you can do is roll your hips against his hand and writhe underneath him. “Come on, confess to me, beautiful.”

“I…” You struggle to formulate any sentence but his attention doesn’t falter, instead he looks like a cat whose playing with a mouse. He shifts his body so your leg hooks over his thigh, pushing further up as he keeps pumping his finger into you. The new angle lets him hit that spot you can never quite reach yourself. The closer you get to formulating words, the quicker he goes until the lewd sound of his hand hitting your soaked pussy is all that can be heard. You’re getting so close. “Fuck- I have, I-I’m sorry-”

Suddenly he laughs, loudly and with a sharp edge of ridicule. His hand slows to a near stop, simply pushing and curling his finger as he grinds the palm of his hand into your clit, keeping you close to that edge of cumming. You’re dazed and confused when you look at him, why is he laughing?

“Oh you are simply a riot, you sweet thing.” He smiles too kindly as he pulls his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing. He leans back as he sucks your juices from his fingers and push yourself up on your hands.

“Did I say something wrong?” You’re nearly panicked, worried you messed up and told him too much.

“No, no, not at all. The opposite actually.” He gives you a grin that clearly shows off his fangs.

“T-then why..?”

“You were close to cumming on my fingers, right?”

You nod, dumbfounded.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Huh? W-what, why?” Your brain is still hazy and you can’t think straight, his confusing answer didn’t make it easier for you either.

“Simply didn’t want you to.” You consider that maybe you did this to yourself, teaching him the power of simply refusing. You wanted him to have agency, but in this very moment you also wanted to cum. You wanted him to want you to cum. You can only guess that you looked especially conflicted because you were pulled from your thoughts by Astarions laugh again. When you look over to him, he’s untying the lace of his own pants. “Okay, no, I didn’t want you to cum on my hand because I want you to cum on my dick, simple as that actually.”

“Oh you’re such an asshole…” You mutter under your breath but his grin tells you he heard you as he pushes his pants and underwear down his legs. You take the moment to pull your own panties off.

“Ah, did you want to cum at all tonight, pet?” He threatens playfully as he finds his place between your legs but whatever reply you had died in your throat as your eyes land on his cock. You had imagined it before yet embarrassment had kept you from thinking of any details, yet there it was. Hovering over you, Astarion used one hand to hold himself up, the other softly tracing up your thigh as he took in your reaction and in turn observed your beauty. You laid beneath him, bare and vulnerable. Trusting and turned on. Just like he had wanted you. “Hm? Cat’s got your tongue? Come on now…”

He leaned in, kissing your lips once before once again lavishing the skin of your neck in open mouth kisses and playful nips that had you jolting under him. His cock just barely rested on your pussy lips as he slowly and softly moved back and forth.

“Fuck… Ah…” You sigh in pleasure but it’s not enough to satisfy Astarions ever growing need to embarrass you.

“Words, darling, use them. What do you want?” he whispered against your skin, pressing his cock further into the softness of your cunt with the base of his thumb, slowly fucking the space between you and his hand. Your slick coats him and he can’t help but sigh in relief. “Tell me, or I’ll just use you like this until I cum and leave you as you are.” It’s a threat without any truth, but it’s enough to push you to speak up.

“Maybe you should just… Shut up and fuck me, Astarion.” Your hand grips his hair, pulling it enough to guide his head back up to meet your eyes. The spark of your rebellion to his teasing thrills him to no end. “I want you to fuck me, is what I’m saying.”

Lips and teeth and tongue suddenly clash as he presses his mouth to yours. It’s messy and rough, you bite his lip and he moans. Your arms wrap around his neck. He finally guides himself to your opening and pushes the tip in. You both shiver, momentarily pulling away to whimper. And then all at once, Astarion pushes the rest of himself into your heat and you feel divine. You're forced to pull away and the feeling makes you drop your head back as you take a sudden, sharp inhale. Pleasure crashes over you and just as you feel like you can recover, Astarion is already ahead of you and starts to thrust. Whatever recovery you thought you could get is quickly washed away as moans and whimpers are all the things you can utter in that moment. His desire and desperation can be felt in the pace he quickly falls into, his mouth finding your breast once again but this time his earlier control seems to be gone. He bites into the soft flesh, his fangs sinking into your skin and you gasp. The pain and pleasure is overwhelming, the signals getting mixed up and all you know is that he feels good.

You lost count after the first three bite marks Astarion leaves on your body, you weren’t even sure if all of them broke skin or would leave any marks but surely some were. The thought crossed you, of meeting your companions when morning light comes and the view of the marks up and down your neck. And you, who had worked so hard to keep your attraction to Astarion pushed so far down, suddenly it’d be obvious you’d become his plaything. And yet the thought made you clench around Astarions cock, ecstasy taking over whatever shame you had just felt. 

Your peak was quickly building back up, and you repositioned your arms to grab around his shoulders and up his back. Letting your nails dig into his marble skin just like he had wanted.

“Hah, to believe you’d take me so well… Especially after all that grandstanding about- hah, fuck… not falling for the sweet things I say.” The smugness in his voice was annoying yet you felt your core tighten even harder at them. You dug your nails even harder into his back in response and you felt him stutter in his pace, a pleasured whimper slipping out from under his breath. “Shit,  yeah just like that, sweet girl.”

Of course he’d like it. You hide your face in his neck, unable to do anything else. You’re getting so close again.

A hand pushes inbetween you two as Astarion slips his thumb where you two are connected. He quickly finds your clit and presses down.

“Come on, I want you to cum on my cock… I want to push you over the edge, watch you cry out in pleasure…” You’re both dazed as he starts to rub your clit. Your back curves and you gasp, letting go of Astarion as you push your hands into the grass over your head, gripping it. “That’s it, cum for me, beautiful.” 

The last thing you register is his smile and his fangs glinting in the moonlight as you finally tip over the edge. You're flooded with white, hot pleasure as you screw your eyes close and arch your back off of the ground. Astarion doesn’t stop, his thumb relentless as he rubs you through your orgasm. He’s pounding into you, fast and rough but as you keep clenching around him he can feel how he’s losing himself. You’re still riding your high when his hands hit the ground on either side of your head and you can barely register his face as it hovers above you. He’s breathtaking, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows scrunched together. You see his white eyelashes as he closes his eyes, fully focusing on how good you feel around him. His pace becomes an uneven mess fueled by a frenzy and his feral need for you. Each hit of his cock against your inside sends another intense wave of pleasure bordering on pain and you take it, whimpering.

And as he pushes into you as far as he can the scales finally tip and he cums, flooding your insides with his cum. You can feel the pulsing inside you as he collapses over you, you both breathing heavy and slowly coming back down from your highs. 

It takes a minute before you're both in any condition to move, using the little energy you had gathered to roll over to your sides, facing one another. There's a comfortable silence as you let whatever happened to tonight soak in. Astarion is carefully watching your face, looking at the myriad of marks he’d left on your neck without even thinking. He never left marks usually, the proof of the nights spent with others made him nauseous. But his brain had been telling him that he should… that he needed to. He wanted you, after all. Reaching out with his hand, he carefully traced one of the bite marks. Your eyes suddenly widened.

“By the gods- What in the hells am I going to tell Shadowheart…” You groaned and hid your face in your hands. Astarion raised an eyebrow.

“...Was there something between you two I had just missed? Cus in that case I might not be able to come back to camp for a while.” He joked.

“No, no not that. I had just… mentioned to her that I wasn’t falling for your stupid flirting and how it was obvious you liked to fuck around and I just… Didn’t want that to be me. I’m pretty sure I called you annoying as well.”

Astarion once again laughed at you, the fact that you would both be facing a very judgemental Shadowheart was very amusing to him. He’d rub it in her face if he could, but the hickeys and bitemarks on your neck was probably enough.

“But now that is me… Ugh.”

“... You know I didn’t bed you just because I could, right?” Astarion spoke up, awkward in his approach.

“Well yeah the whole ‘I want you’ thing was pretty consistent. But what do you want with me?” And there was that straightforwardness he always found a little intimidating.

“I… I don’t know, but I want you. That’s all I know.” He studied your face before turning to lay on his back and look into the starless night. “Do I have to choose what that means now?”

“...No. Just… Tell me when you know I guess.” You shrug and turn to look at the sky as well. 

“Can I want you to come closer?” Astarion spoke into the night, his voice barely heard over the breeze in the trees.

You don’t answer, just shuffle closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He smiles, it felt nice having someone close even after you were… done.

“Though we shouldn’t stay here too long, I’m pretty sure I have grass up my ass crack and it’s colder than the hells out here. Sorry but you don’t exactly help either.”

“Oh aren’t you just charming, didn’t you ever learn some manners?” You both laugh and the shadowlands feel a little less… bleak, at least for tonight.

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Hajime couldn't help it, not with how cute you looked so fast asleep next to him. Not with the way your smell overwhelmed his senses. After all, one taste couldn't hurt, could it? 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Hajime Umemiya (Wind Breaker) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Fem!Reader x Vampire!Umemiya. ⚠️NSFW Dark Content⚠️. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Somnophilia, blood, cunnilingus, dubcon, fingering, mild begging.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: I'm not too sure how I feel about this one :< But! after a week we're finally back on schedule so there's that, we can finish out this month strong. I hope you enjoy, and my full masterlist for my kinktober can be found here.

Umemiya couldn’t help himself, you just smelt so good. You were fast asleep, chest rising and falling in your slumber as he watches you. Features so peaceful, so trusting of him to be so vulnerable. He lets his nose slip into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. Maybe just one little bite couldn’t hurt.. No. He had to keep his composure, you didn’t even know. He was fearful of your reaction, your sweet charming boyfriend being a vampire? He couldn’t imagine it going over that well. He hated that side of himself, hated being so out of control at the slightest smell of blood. Something as simple as a prick to your finger from a thorn in the garden nearly sent him into a frenzy just a week ago. And now here he was lips inches from your neck, throat dry as it ached for just a taste of you.  

But with you looking so peaceful, being so defenseless, his mind wandering to what your blood would taste like on his tongue he couldn’t help it. His lips trailing kisses along your jawline, sliding deeper, his nose dragging along your skin your sent consuming his senses. He couldn’t hold back any longer and he just hoped you could forgive him as his teeth sunk into your neck, penetrating your soft flesh as the metallic taste of your blood fills his tastebuds. He had imagined what you tasted like for ages. Couldn’t count the night he had fisted his cock at the thought of getting to taste your blood on his tongue.

He doesn’t allow himself to lose control, forcibly pulling from you before he drank too much, tongue easing the clear mark that his teeth left behind, cock throbbing in desperate need to taste more of you. His hands slide up your thighs, brushing past the hem of his shirt you had fallen asleep in. The fact you were drenched in his own scent the both of you mingling together in a way that made his head spin. He wasted no time in sliding down your form, ducking under the covers to settle himself between your thighs.

He groans at the mere sight of your cunt, nose bumping the already dampening fabric, your body was so responsive to his, even unconscious. Inhaling your scent, mouth salivating, desperate for a taste of you. His hands grip the fabric that rests on your hips, pulling down your panties to expose your glistening cunt to his hungry gaze. Quick to stuff the material into his pocket for ‘safe keeping’. He slipped his tongue from his mouth pointing it as he flicked it back and forth slowly, his fingers making a V to part your folds and expose yourself to him so utterly and completely. His fingers move, sliding down either side of your clit, collecting as much arousal as he could on the pads of his fingers to aid in the slide of them past your entrance. All the while keeping his mouth latched onto your clit letting his teeth graze the bud

He lets his tongue loll out to slide between your folds until he comes into contact with your clit. Lapping up your cunt like he had something to prove, like it was the first time he was tasting it. Cock straining against the fabric that covered it, aching for any form of stimulation as his hands gripped your hips. Pulling you further onto his face as his tongue flattens, making sure to cover every surface area of your clit. His fingers curling within the depths of your cunt until he had found that spongey spot that sent you reeling. His free had slid up your body, slipping under the fabric of your sleep shirt. His hands settle on the soft mound of your breast, feeling your softness and the way it molds into his palm. Only causing him to lap at your cunt with more ferocity. His thumb traces around your nipple, rubbing in small circles as the bud hardens under the bad of his finger, murmuring against your clit how much a good girl you were being for him even though you were lost in sleep. It wasn’t long before he felt your body shift under his ministrations, the cutest little whimpers spilling from your throat only spurring him on. Your fingers shoot out to grip his hair, thighs clamping on the side of his face.

“Hajime.. fuck what are you-”  Your words are cut off with a loud moan, head tossed as he curls his fingers once more in time with a twist to your sensitive bud.

“Fuck baby couldn’t help it, need to taste you please let me, I cant stop I need to taste you.”

Umemiya’s words were an incoherent babble, not sure what he could possibly mean as his words were already being spoken not your sopping cunt. But your head was so fuzzy, overwhelmed with pleasure and still foggy from sleep, causing you to nod instantly with no hesitation. Instead of resuming eating your cunt however, Umemiya lets his teeth sink into your thigh. Eyes rolling back as your blood fills his mouth once more, drinking your essence. His eyes rolling back in his head, hips rutting desperately against the mattress below. The overwhelming taste of you consumed him. His fingers picked up their pace, fucking your cunt with his digits. The way your velvety walls contracted around the digits as you were forcibly thrown over the edge.

He lets a strong hand pin your hips to the mattress, not wanting to hurt you as he still drank from you. Groaning desperately into your skin as he fucked the mattress below, shaking violently as he pants the inside of his pants white with his cum. Pulling from you, as he laps the blood dripping from the wound in your thigh. Crawling up the bed to collect you in his arms, for right now he would let you sleep, he knew he’d have to explain the marks on your skin in the morning, but for now, he hoped you could forgive him and would still want him after he told you. Maybe you’d even let him turn you, the idea alone makes Hajime fall asleep with a smile on his face not even bothered by the stickiness of his underwear.

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @stunies @eevees-hobbies @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[exoscreamsoda]

i made my religious southern black grandma watch the first ep of iwtv

most shameful thing ive done in a while, i already knew she doesnt like vampire or horror stuff because the blood disgusts her but shes really old and i wanted her to experience peak cinema atleast once

[my grandma is very open minded]

here are some reaction points ⬇

she automatically loves daniel malloy because hes old

she found "french white" to be a really funny phrase

i forgot that making her watch this meant i would have to sit through the sex scene. i spent 20 min trying to find an excuse and just as i got up ms. lily started rubbing her nipples, i knew this because my grandma started yelling WHATS SHE DOING? D:

my poor grandma was barely processing the ms.lily boob thing before my dad walked into the room. now theyre both witnessing this sex scene

she started laughing when louis pushed lestats hand away but when they started going at it she was like 👁👁 ?? and i had to explain that he was being seduced and also theyre freaky

"you know this doesnt suprise me, i heard new orleans is known for gay people". i ask her to elaborate on this but she doesnt???

she gets bored again when its over but paul's death grabs her

the confession scene (which i think is the best in the series) makes her lock in so hard she sits up and cant even hear when we're talking to her

immediately starts screaming and telling louis to run when lestat starts killing those priests and cant stop saying WHAT. DONT LET THAT WHITE DEVIL IN once louis accepts and kisses him 😭

she still cant get past the gore but said that i can show her some more episodes next time. i won 😚

[i need to reiterate that my grandma is not homophobic but the blood was genuinely making her mad 💀 propose normally next time lestat]

[charmandabear]

11. Astarion x Reader 👀

We're not going to worry about how long it'll take me to answer these. We're not going to talk about it. Listen, I'm trying so hard to not make these into whole things, I just want to treat them like writing exercises, but I physically can't not finish smut once it's started.

From @astarionfreak's smut ask game ~ other entries

11. "I touched myself last night thinking about you." "I know."

Tags/Warnings: reader isn't gendered but has a vulva, blood/blood drinking, p in v sex, somewhat rough sex (reader gets a little feral in this one)

You're not subtle about it at all.

Every time he catches you staring, you quickly turn your head. At one point you even just shift your eyes, trying to pretend you're looking at something behind him. But there's no way he isn't at least a little suspicious.

Since the night you let Astarion bite you, the tension between the two of you has been palpable. Something about having him pressed down on top of you, his lips on your neck and his hand cradling your neck in a way that was disproportionately gentle set something on fire inside you. You really thought that you could just get over your little crush if you got it out of your system. Sate the need and you could go back to just being friends... Or whatever you are with him.

But it had the opposite effect. Now, his very presence turns you on. The wind catches his scent and you instinctively press your thighs together. He grins after making some sassy remark to Gale, and the glint of his fangs in the light makes your mouth go dry. You even need to suppress a moan when he gets a particularly impressive kill. You really hope no one heard that one.

So now, sitting around the campfire with the rest of your companions, you're just trying desperately to appear normal. You laugh absentmindedly at whatever joke Karlach just made while in your mind, Astarion's railing you up against a tree. It's only when you realize that Wyll has been trying to ask you a question for the past 90 seconds that you know you're too far gone to be in polite company.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it, long day," you make the excuse lamely. "I'm going to turn in a little early, I've got a bit of a headache."

"Do you want something for it?" Shadowheart asks with a frown. "I've got some herbal remedies that might help."

"I'm fine, I think I just need some rest." You force a smile onto your face. "'Night, all." You walk back to your tent stiffly, speeding up to cover the last few meters quickly. Your breath wracks through your body and your blood pounds in your ears. You've never - never - gotten this worked up over another person, never mind a man. Honestly, he's not even really your usual type, you'd normally be much more likely to pursue someone like Shadowheart. But she so clearly has a thing for Karlach, and that's not something you'd want to get in the way of.

But this pale, devastatingly handsome vampire elf has your desire in a chokehold.

You light a lantern inside your tent and take out your journal to sketch. You try to conjure some of the imagery you saw today to keep your brain off Astarion. Scratch and the owlbear cub playing. The terrifying harpies that almost lured one of the tiefling children. Astarion's blade dripping with harpy blood while his bright red eyes sparkle with mischief and the thrill of he kill.

Fucking hells.

You eventually put your journal away and lay down on your bedroll, staring at the ceiling of your tent while the others continue to chat and laugh outside. You listen to their conversation die down, their goodnights, and finally the distant sound of crickets and other nighttime fauna. Your eyes start to grow heavy, or at the very least bored of looking at the support rods in your tent.

You only realize that you've drifted to sleep when you're startled awake by a soft tapping on the canvas flap that separates you from the rest of camp.

"Y-yes?" Your voice is shakier than you'd like, although it's not like a vicious creature would politely knock on your makeshift door. The flap lifts up to reveal the literal last person you'd like to see right now.

"Hello, darling," Astarion grins in that irresistible way that he does. "I wanted to check in on our fearless leader. You've seemed dreadfully jumpy all day."

"Oh! Um." You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "I'm.. fine. Thank you, Astarion." You nod your head in a gesture of dismissal, but he doesn't move.

"Are you sure? You're positively flushed." His smile suggests he knows more than he's letting on. You chew on your lower lip to distract you from the growing ache between your legs.

"I'm perfectly fine, Astarion, thank you. Good night." You reach to close the tent flap but he holds onto it. Your fingers brush against his and it's like a jolt of lightning passes between your hands.

"I'm not buying it," he hums, dropping his voice. He pushes his way into your tent and you scramble backwards. The last thing you need is for him to touch you - you might not be able to control yourself if he does. "Now tell me, what's had you so hot and bothered all day?"

"N-nothing," you stammer, wishing you could just disappear on the spot. He raises an eyebrow and you backpedal. "Well, fine, I think something Gale cooked isn't sitting quite right with me. I was... embarrassed." The lie rings hollow even to you.

"Come now, love, we both know you're a terrible liar." He crawls towards you on his knees, a predator stalking his prey. Your breath catches in your throat. "Do you have something you need to confess?"

You're trapped. You've run out of room in the tent to back away, and Astarion has all but crawled on top of you. His scent is intoxicating and his eyes gleam in the low light. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"I touched myself last night thinking about you."

"I know." The grin that curls across his face is fiendish. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

"You know?" Then you gasp suddenly. "The tadpole..."

Astarion lets out a bark of a laugh, loud enough that you're worried it might wake your other companions. "Darling, I didn't need a tadpole to figure that one out. Like I said, you're a terrible liar." He nudges his knee closer to the apex of your legs and you can feel your arousal making your underclothes wet. "What I want to know is, how did you picture me? My head between your legs? Did I have you on all fours in the forest? Or..." His lips ghost against yours now and your head feels dizzy with lust. "Or perhaps I had you pinned down in this very tent, taking my time as I had my way with you?"

Your instincts take over and you close the minimal distance between you, pulling him down on top of you as you ravage his lips. You claw at his clothing, no longer interested in maintaining decorum. He tears at the laces of your breeches, pulling them down below your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to the open air. A cry rips through your throat as he licks a thick stripe up your slit, and his chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. He pulls up on his knees and grins down at you, open and wanton, as he slips out of his pants.

"So very eager," he hums as he frees his cock, engorged and already dripping. A shudder runs through you as you see it, and you yank on his shirt and pull him down to meet you. You kiss him roughly, catching his lower lip in your teeth as you hook your leg around his waist.

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Astarion," you hiss through gritted teeth, and you groan loudly when he easily sinks in up to his base.

"Someone wants the whole of camp to hear," he growls in your ear as he begins to slowly thrust into you.

"Then you better make it quick so we don't wake them," you snarl in response, all pretenses having vanished. You tangle your fingers into his hair and press his face to your neck. You feel his lips stretch into a smile just before he sinks his fangs into you, the icy shard of pain melting into the heat of his mouth warming with your blood.

You jut your hips up into him, desperately chasing your release as he drinks his fill. He fucks into you, hard and messy, and before long you're feeling the pressure building in your core.

"Gods, Astarion, don't stop," you gasp hungrily in his ear, and he increases his pace to a punishing rhythm. You're starting to grow faint from blood loss just as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your walls clench and shudder around his length and he tears his mouth away from your neck, his expression wild and bloody. A few more broken ruts and you can feel him spilling inside you, the feeling his pulsing cock prolonging your own climax.

The two of you eventually still, covered in a sheen of sweat and panting heavily. Your ears strain to hear if there has been any disturbance in camp to indicate that your other companions heard anything. Outside your tent remains, thankfully, silent.

"Well then," Astarion exhales quickly as he slides out of you. "Darling, if it's going to be like that, then you just need to invite me next time."

[therainscene]

I've described myself in the past as "overly-queerbaited" as a way of explaining why it took me so long to come around to Byler endgame as a legitimate possibility... but that's kind of a misleading way of putting it.

Truth is, I've always been too much of a cynical fuck to fall for queerbait... or any other story that promises positive queer rep.

[Sherlock couldn't touch me; I saw this cringe homophobia coming from a mile away. Fans mistaking straight anxiety jokes for meaningful gay subtext was clearly doomed to end in mockery. Nobody deserved to be treated like that... but god, it was easy to predict.]

I think it's a symptom of having grown up under Section 28 -- feeling like I'm being unreasonable for wanting to see queerness normalized is such an ingrained habit that even today I instinctively recoil like a vampire touching sunlight whenever an optimistic queer story falls unrequested into my lap.

But I'm hardly alone in feeling this way -- many queer Millennial and Gen-X fans of Stranger Things are against the idea of Byler because it would ruin the catharsis of watching the gay boy growing up in the same era as we did slowly succumb to the same despair that we did.

[For those who haven't played the VR game: Vecna is speaking in this screenshot.]

There's genuine comfort to be found in painful stories -- this type of catharsis is practically the cornerstone of horror as a genre -- so I can't really fault myself or anyone else for wanting it, despite the obnoxious oversaturation of disappointing queer endings in media.

This is the nostalgia show, after all -- and like it or not, for many middle-aged queers in the target audience, nostalgia is shot through with the pain of homophobia and loneliness.

But do you know who else is a hurt queer(-coded) adult who resents happy endings? This cynical fuck:

Henry personifies despair and loneliness and the dark urge to take our pain out on others -- and when Will is in the picture, I would argue that he also represents internalized homophobia.

Will might represent who we were -- but Henry represents who we've let ourselves turn into.

And I don't think many of us want to admit to that, because that would involve questioning why we have so much in common with the literal villain of the show; why we're still so consumed with self-pity after 20+ years that we're obsessing over the fate of some kid.

I'm not suggesting that wanting a less-than-fairytale ending for a fictional gay boy is equivalent to being a child killer lol. It's perfectly valid to want to see your pain acknowledged, and stories which appeal to that desire deserve to exist.

But between Henry's connection to Will and the cycle of abuse themes of the show, it's clear that this particular story simply isn't about wallowing in the bleakness of growing up gay in the 80s, but about self-actualizing in spite of it all.

So I just can't bring myself to want a "relatable" ending for Will.

As much as I struggle to enjoy positive queer rep, I don't want to be so cynical. I'd thrown up so many walls to protect myself as a teenager that I forgot how desperately I wanted to see just one of those painful queer stories end on the same uplifting note that straight stories were always entitled to: with true love overcoming the odds, saving the day, and living happily ever after.

[But I'm A Cheerleader, a surprisingly fun movie about conversion therapy, is proof that stories like this did exist when I was a teen... but finding them in the pre- and early-internet days amidst so much censorship was a tall order.]

What makes Stranger Things different from most queer stories -- and what allowed it to pierce through my defenses and stab me in the gut -- is that it perfectly mimics those bleak, acceptable-to-the-censors stories from my youth -- only this time, the secret uplifting gay plot twist is real.

Not for the sake of shock value or of grabbing some empty woke points at the last second, but because the plan all along was to slap the audience in the face for believing homophobic lies about the existence of queer happiness.

That's some gourmet catharsis, if you ask me.

Just the possibility that my inner child might finally be vindicated has allowed me to truly let myself want the things I want for the first time in 20 years -- and that's the first step towards finally crawling back out into the sunlight.

Happy Pride Month, everyone. 🌈

[starkeyslibrary]

LINGERING GLANCES

synopsis: three months after a messy breakup, you and Rafe Cameron are forced to face each other again at a group hangout. Tension runs high, and sparks fly as old feelings resurface, leading to a heated encounter that leaves you both questioning if the past is truly over.

pairing: you x rafe cameron

inspired by season 1, episode 16 of The Vampire Diaries.

It had been three months.

Three months since the shouting match that ended it all, since the tears, since the silence that followed. Since Rafe Cameron had gone from being your person to just another name in your phone. Since you decided that pretending to be over him was easier than actually trying to be.

It wasn't messy anymore. Not on the surface. Just... distant. Cold. In a familair way. Enough time had passed that you were both managing the whole "friends in the same group" thing. Barely.

Tonight, though - tonight was the first time you'd both brought someone new to a hangout.

You were sitting on a beach blanket with Cleo and Kie, passing a bottle of wine between the three of you, toes dug into the sand as a soft ocean breeze tangled through your hair. A few feet away, a fire crackled, throwing gold across the group.

Everyone had gathered: Sarah and John B curled up together like always, Pope leaning against a log while JJ cracked open a beer, Kelce already half-drunk and yelling about something dumb.

And then there was Rafe.

His legs were stretched out, a girl perched a little too confidently beside him - blonde, model-y. She laughed too loudly at things he said. She didn't fit here, not really, but maybe that was the point.

The guy you brought, Eli was sweet. He had kind eyes and a gentle smile and he was doing his best to talk to Pope about some podcast they both liked. But every time Rafe spoke, your focus wavered.

John B let out a low whistle. "Okay, okay, I know we're trying to be chill, but can we please talk about the Ferrari we saw in town earlier?"

"That thing?" JJ leaned forward, squinting. "Bro, that car was insane. V8 twin-turbo, matte green. You couldn't pay me to drive it slow."

"Man, you couldn't afford to drive it at all," Pope muttered, laughing.

"Fast cars are overrated", the girl next to Rafe interrupted, twirling her hair like she was on a reality show. "You can't even make out in them properly."

Your wine bottle stopped halfway to your lips.

A beat passed.

JJ snorted. "Damn. Guess we've been doing it wrong, boys."

Kelce wheezed with laughter. "Speak for yourself, Maybank."

But Rafe didn't laugh. He shifted slightly, leaned back on one arm, then tilted his head in that way he always did when he was about to say something he knew would hit.

"Sure you can", he said, voice smooth, a little cocky - but there was something under it. Something that made your pulse skip.

He looked right at you when he said it.

Not a glance. Not a slip-up.

A choice.

The air shifted.

You felt it, and so did the rest of the group. Cleo's eyes flicked between you and Rafe. Pope went quiet. Even JJ paused mid-sip, brow lifting in silent question.

But your mind was racing. Because you knew what he meant. Because you remembered every curve of his car, the fogged windows, the way his hands had moved over you like he already knew you by heart.

You forced a smile and looked down, willing your cheeks not to flush.

Rafe’s girl didn’t seem to notice. She laughed, brushing a hand along his thigh. “Oh, so you’ve tried, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said without looking at her. “A few times.”

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to scream. Or leave. Or rewind time and un-hear it. Un-feel it.

Because it wasn’t just a dig. It was a memory, delivered with just enough venom to remind you it still lived in his head and maybe in his heart too.

The worst part? It worked.

It hit.

Cleo cleared her throat, cutting the moment clean.

“So anyway,” she said quickly, “what’s the dumbest place everyone’s ever hooked up?”

“Middle school hallway,” JJ blurted without hesitation. “During a fire drill.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah groaned, laughing. “JJ, what—why?”

“Time was of the essence.”

Pope looked horrified. “You’re the reason they started locking those doors.”

As the group dissolved into chaos again, you leaned back, letting the fire mask the heat on your face. You felt Eli shift beside you, oblivious to the storm you were trying not to drown in.

Across the fire, Rafe was still watching.

And for a moment, it felt like none of the time between you had passed at all.

The night wore on.

Eventually, the laughter faded. The fire crackled lower, embers glowing soft and red in the hand. One by one, your friends peeled off. Sarah and John B wandered toward the twinkling lights of the chateau, arms wrapped around each other. Kie and Cleo disappeared into the beach house to grab blankets. Even JJ had stumbled off to crash on a couch inside.

Eli had gone home early—an early class, he said. You hadn’t argued. The vibe had shifted after that conversation. He felt it too, the way your eyes kept drifting. The way Rafe's never stopped.

Now, it was quiet.

You were still sitting on the edge of the fire pit, picking at your nails.

Then you heard it—his footsteps behind you, slow and deliberate.

Of course.

You didn’t turn around.

“You always that quiet when your flavor of the week dips out early?” you called over your shoulder, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Rafe gave a low chuckle. “Was wondering when the claws would come out.”

You finally looked at him, he was standing there with that stupid cocky smirk, hands in his pockets, sleeves pushed up like he knew exactly what he was doing. Because he did.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, standing up and brushing off your jeans. “She’s sweet though. Looks like she’d bake cookies for your court date.”

“Don’t be jealous, Y/N. It’s not a good look on you.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Please. You think I brought Eli just to make you jealous?”

Rafe raised a brow, stepping closer. “Did you?”

You tilted your head. “You think everything revolves around you, don’t you?”

He grinned. “It usually does.”

That smugness lit something in you, annoyance, maybe? Or something worse.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re still thinking about that night in the car.”

Your jaw clenched. “Don’t.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, stepping into your space like he owned it. “She said something about not making out in sports cars, and you practically choked on your drink.”

You stepped back, smirking. “Yeah, because I was trying not to laugh. At you.”

“Mhm.” His eyes dropped to your lips for just a second. “Tell that to the way you were staring at me all night.”

You scoffed. “You’re delusional.”

“I’m right.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Rafe, your ego’s got its own time zone, and it’s way ahead of reality.”

That made him grin wider—he loved when you got like this. Fire for fire.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said.

“And you’re hot when you’re not talking,” you snapped back.

There was a beat. Silence. A staring contest laced with heat.

Rafe’s smirk faltered just enough to shift the mood.

He stepped in again, voice dropping low. “You can sass me all night, Y/N. But we both know if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”

You laughed once, sharp. “Babe, try me.”

He leaned in—close enough that his breath hit your cheek, his cologne all familiar and dangerous—and for a second, neither of you moved.

“I missed this,” he murmured.

You arched a brow. “The sexual tension or me threatening to knee you in the balls?”

His mouth curved. “Both. Kinda does it for me, you know.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling. Dammit.

You hated this. You loved this.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered.

He tilted his head. “Then stop looking at me like you still want me.”

You didn’t reply, because neither of you needed to say it.

And when he leaned in this time, you didn’t stop him when he kissed you.

And you didn’t stop yourself when your hand fisted in the front of his hoodie and tugged him closer like you hadn’t spent the last three months pretending he meant nothing.

Because this wasn’t nothing.

It was every unsaid word, every unresolved fight, every stare across a crowded room that ended with both of you looking away too late.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours, and for a second, there was no sound but the wind and the dying fire.

“You still drive that car like it’s stolen?” you murmured.

His lips quirked. “Only when I’m trying to forget you.”

You didn’t reply.

Because you knew what came next. You were already walking, slow and silent, the space between you vibrating with something electric. He followed without a word. Like it was inevitable. Like it had always been.

The Range Rover was still parked where he’d left it. Same black paint, same tinted windows, same leather seats you’d gotten to know a little too well.

He opened the door for you—not out of chivalry, but habit.

You slid inside without looking at him.

He climbed in on the driver’s side, closed the door, and just... sat there. Like maybe this was a mistake. Like maybe this was real.

You turned to him, lips still tingling from the kiss. “Well? You gonna drive or just brood dramatically?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “God, I forgot how much you talk.”

You smirked. “Funny, I forgot how much you liked shutting me up.”

That did it.

He leaned across the console, hand curling around your jaw as he kissed you again—this time slower, deeper. Less fire, more ache. Like he was remembering you. Like he was trying to memorize you all over again.

Your back hit the seat, and his hand slipped to your waist, familiar and sure. His touch was confident but not rushed. Like he knew exactly how far you’d let him go—and exactly when you’d pull him in closer.

“You still smell like summer,” he muttered against your neck.

You tilted your head, giving him access. “You still talk too much when you’re turned on.”

He laughed softly, but there was a catch in his breath.

His hand found yours, fingers threading together like they hadn’t forgotten how to fit.

You looked at him, something soft slipping past your defenses. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know.”

“It can’t mean anything.”

“I know that too.”

And the second his lips met yours, it wasn’t soft. It was a challenge. A dare.

But you’d never been one to back down.

Hand in his hair, nails grazing just enough to make him grunt against your mouth. His hands found your waist, dragging you closer across the center console like he still had the right.

“You really brought me all the way out here just to relive your glory days?” you said, breathless, eyes locked with his.

Rafe’s smirk was instant. “What can I say? The car has... history.”

You snorted. “You mean trauma.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw. “You never complained before.”

“I did. You just never listened.”

“Lies,” he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh, slow and cocky. “I always listened. I just liked it better when your mouth was too busy to talk.”

You grabbed his wrist mid-way, eyes flashing. “And I liked it better when you remembered who was really in control here.”

That stopped him. Just like it always did. Because you were the only one who ever made Rafe Cameron fold. Not out of fear. Out of need.

You slid across the console in one smooth motion, straddling him in the driver’s seat, your knees bracketing his hips. The tension crackled between you, your breath in sync, your eyes daring each other to flinch.

“You think you’re in charge just because you drive the car?” you whispered against his lips. “Cute.”

His hands gripped your hips, knuckles white. “You gonna show me how wrong I am?”

You rolled your hips once—slow, on purpose—and watched his head tilt back against the seat.

“Still think you’ve got the upper hand?” you asked sweetly.

He groaned, biting his bottom lip. “Fuck. I forgot how annoying you are when you’re right.”

“You didn’t forget,” you said, fingers curling around the collar of his shirt. “You love it.”

He looked up at you, eyes dark and dilated, like he was already halfway undone.

You kissed him like you had something to prove.

And Rafe—Rafe fucking Cameron—let you. Because no one ever kissed him like you did. With fire. With precision. Like you could destroy him and knew it.

His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs brushing under the hem of your shorts like he was trying to remember every inch of you through his fingertips. But you weren’t letting him lead. Not this time.

You rolled your hips over his, slow and steady, and watched his cocky smirk falter just enough to feed something deep in your chest.

"Still think you're in charge?" you whispered, breath ghosting over his jaw, lips brushing his ear.

He exhaled sharply, chest rising beneath yours. “God, I missed your mouth.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you murmured, dragging your nails lightly over his scalp.

You grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulling him forward just enough for your mouths to brush—not kiss, not yet. His breath hitched. Eyes locked on yours, glazed and hungry.

“Say it,” you whispered.

“What?” he rasped.

“Say you missed me.” Your hands slid under the fabric at his waist, nails grazing warm skin.

He hesitated for half a beat—pure pride—then caved.

“I missed you,” he said, low and wrecked.

You smiled. Not sweet. Triumphant.

And then you kissed him again—deep and messy this time. Your tongues slid together, and his hands tightened on your hips like he was trying not to lose control completely. You rocked into him with purpose, and he let out a choked sound that lit you all the way up.

His mouth trailed from your lips to your neck, open-mouthed kisses and soft bites that made your thighs clench around him.

His hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against your bare skin, thumbs tracing the underside of your bra like he was testing the limits of your control.

You didn’t stop him.

But you did grab his jaw, forcing his gaze back to yours. “You don’t get to rush this. You don’t get to win.”

That did something to him. His eyes darkened, breath stalling. “You gonna drag it out? Make me beg?”

You leaned in close, lips brushing his. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The windows had already started to fog.

Your legs locked around his hips, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him hiss between his teeth. Rafe’s chest was rising fast beneath you, every breath a battle between restraint and desperation.

You shifted your weight slightly, rolling your hips just right—and his head tipped back with a low, guttural groan.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

Your smirk was feral. “Language, Cameron.”

He opened his mouth to throw something back—some cocky line, some Rafe-brand arrogance—but you rocked forward again, deliberately slow, dragging your center along the thick press of him through his jeans.

And just like that, he forgot how to speak.

Good.

His hands were all over you now—gripping your waist, skimming your back, sliding up your shirt again like he couldn’t get close enough. You let him touch, but only where you wanted him to. His fingers found the clasp of your bra and paused.

You raised a brow. “Ask.”

Rafe blinked. Swallowed. “Can I—?”

You unclasped it for him. “Now you can.”

His groan was pure reverence.

When his mouth replaced his hands, you gasped—heat flaring between your thighs, pulse thudding in your ears. His lips, his tongue, the way he worshipped every inch of skin he uncovered—it was almost too much. Almost.

You watched him. Made him see how undone he was. How undone you could make him with just your body and a little restraint.

He looked up at you from beneath those lashes, pupils blown wide. “I fucking hate how good you are at this.”

“You love it,” you whispered, rolling your hips again, slower this time, just to tease. “You live for it.”

He groaned, hands clutching your thighs like a lifeline. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You leaned down, lips brushing his ear, voice low and lethal. “Then die grateful.”

His hands slid under your shorts, thumbs pressing into your hips like he was already coming undone. You felt him, hard and twitching beneath you, straining against the denim, and god—you could feel the way he was holding back.

“Take it off,” he rasped, tugging gently at the waistband of your shorts. “Let me see you.”

You leaned back just slightly, eyes gleaming. “Say please.”

He hesitated for a second—just one. Then his jaw clenched, eyes locked on yours, and he gave in.

“Please.”

You peeled the denim down slow, letting him look—letting him want.

And when his hands returned, they weren’t tentative. They were desperate.

He kissed you again—hard, open-mouthed, hungry. His fingers sliding between your thighs, coaxing a moan from your lips that he swallowed greedily.

You arched into him, gasping. “You always do this,” you breathed.

“Do what?” he asked, voice rough.

“Ruin me.”

He grinned against your skin. “Only fair. You ruined me first.”

As his lips found yours again, deep and bruising, you realized it wasn’t just the car, or the heat between you, or the way his hands made you forget everything else—it was him. All of him. And in this moment, maybe you were both just too damn broken to walk away.

And as you kissed him, again and again, you knew this wasn’t over. It had never really been over.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: The Human and the Wolf Chapter Nineteen

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x OC (First person, no use of Y/N)

Description: Bella Swan's twin moved to Forks with her sister. Whilst Bella falls for a vampire, her twin falls for a wolf. The story runs parallel to Bella's story in Twilight. But following her twin and her life with the wolves.

AN: Sorry there hasn't been an update in a while, I have been ill + the writing just wasn't coming to me, y'know?

Chapter Nineteen - That Was Awesome! I'm Never Doing It Again

A few days later I walked into Emily and Sam's place, excited to spend the day with them and hang with the pack. Bella had been a lot happier these past days, spending most of her free time with Jacob, I didn't mind, as long as she was getting better. I walked through the already open door, and I was surprised to see Embry sitting with the pack. 

"Embry?" I say excitedly. "Long time no see"

His head snapped into my direction, his eyes widening slightly, a broad smile spread onto his face as he locked eyes with me. "Oh man, it's been ages! How've you been, how it's going?"

"Great" I answer, I walk fully into the house and sit at the dining table, Paul reached over and pecked my cheek gently, his arm went around my back, placing his hand on my lower back, holding me. "You wolfed out too?" I ask Embry. He nods, a proud expression on his face. 

"Yeah, I phased a few days ago"

"Aw awesome! You know what that means?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows in excitement. Paul had told me what he did with the pack when he first phased and it was something I wanted to try so bad. Embry raised an eyebrow as I spoke. 

"What's that?" He asks. 

"Well, Paulie told me about it, when he wolfed out, as a little celebration for joining the pack they went cliff diving, and well Paul promised me he;'d take me, so it gives us all a reason to go" I explain, looking from Embry to Paul. They both grinned, obviously liking the idea. 

"Cliff diving? Hell, Yeah, I'm in. That sounds sick"

"We can go tomorrow, can't we Paul?" I ask, he nods, a wolfie grin on his lips. 

-

The next day, I travelled up to the cliffs with Paul, Embry, Sam and Jared. I was wrapped up warm, I didn't have the wolf's super warmth, so I'd be jumping in my warm leggings and one of Paul's hoodies, my car was parked close enough to the beach that I could rush and get warmer clothes on when I left the water. I was suddenly feeling terrified, as we trekked up to the jump point. Paul stood next to me on the edge of the cliff, a mixture of excitement and concern in his eyes as he looked down at the water below.

"You ready for this, sweetheart?" He asks, I shiver slightly, feeling my lips tremble as I look up at him. Jared and Embry were laughing besides us, pushing one another. 

"Oh definitely not.. but I wanna do it..I may not be a wolf, but Im your imprint, I wanna be apart of the pack, and this jump.. well you've all done it, I wanna do it!" I say, my voice full of determination. Paul smirks and leans now, kissing my lips softly for a moment, his warmth enveloped me, spreading from my lips through my body. I shivered again, not a shiver of cold however. He pulled back and smiled softly, placing both of his hands on my shoulders. 

"Alright, sweetheart, you got this. I'll be right there with you. You're part of the pack, and you're my imprint. We're all in this together. Just take a deep breath and we'll jump together."

"Deal!" I say with a grin. Paul smiled reassuringly, his grip on my shoulder tightening gently. He stepped closer to the edge, waiting for my signal. I stepped closer to him, taking his hand in mine as I stood shoulder to shoulder with him. 

"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart. Just jump and I'll jump with you. We'll do this together." He says. I nod, and look back for a moment. "Embry you nervous?" I ask, he hadn't done this before, just like me. Whereas Sam, Jared and Paul had, so he was in the same boat as me. He looked nervous, and the nervous chuckle that left his lips suggested he felt the same as me. 

"Hell yeah, I'm nervous. This is my first time cliff jumping, too. But I'm not gonna back down. We're doing this"

"Okay, Paul...I'm doing it" I squeal taking a small shuffle forward, I looked down, seeing the waves beneath me, I liked swimming, I always had. Loved it in fact, however looking down from this height, it made the water look menacing, the waves crashed and the wind howled. I couldn't imagine being in the water in the matter of minutes. Paul's grip on my hand tightened as he held me. 

"I'm right there with you, sweetheart. Ready...and...jump!"

"Jump!" I squeal at the same time as him, we jump off the edge and fall through the air, for a moment I felt nothing but the cold air hitting my skin, and Paul's hand gripping my own, it felt like forever until we hit the water. I soon emerged, giggling softly as I see Paul, he was smiling so wide, I could tell he was proud of me in that moment. I was proud of me. We swam a little bit away from where we had landed so the boys wouldn't land on us. He pulled me close to him as the waves moved us in the water, we bobbled up and down. 

"You did it, sweetheart!That was freakin' awesome!"

"Holy shit! That was awesome! I'm never doing it again" 

Paul chuckles. "Yeah, it was amazing. I don't blame you for never wanting to do that again. You were a real trouper, though. I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

I giggle softly, the waves moved me and I bobbled up and down in the water, the was cold, so cold, I could feel my lips turning blue, but that didn't stop the smile on my lips. As we watched the others jump off the cliff, Paul kept his arm around my waist, holding me above the water. 

We all swam for a bit, and when the shivering became louder than the talking, Paul and I left the water and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as we walked back to my car. 

"Always so warm" I mumble, snuggling a little closer to him as we walked. 

"Yeah, well, I guess being a werewolf has its perks, huh? Like being a personal heater whenever you need me to be."

-

I dropped Paul off first, after we had dried and changed clothes of course, and then I drove home. My dad's car wasn't in the driveway, I shrugged it off and walked into the house, seconds after I shut my front door, Bella grabbed my arm. 

"How could you be so stupid?! Jumping off a cliff?" She yells, I pull my arm away from hers. 

"Bells, calm down, it was fun, and I was with the boys, completely safe" I say with a shrug. Bella huffed, pacing back and forth in agitation.

"You call that safe? You could have been seriously hurt jumping off a cliff! And for what? Adrenaline rush?"

"Yeah...guess so" I answer, shrugging, I couldn't tell her the actual idea we went cliff jumping. Bella crossed her arms, her irritation clearly visible.

"Seriously, you can't take unnecessary risks like that. There's more to life than adrenaline thrills. You need to be more careful."

"Bella, mind your own business, it was fun.. I did it once, I won't be doing it again" I snapped, annoyed, she was telling me how to live my life, Bella! After the months she shut off. 

"I don't care if it was fun. You should think twice before doing something that dangerous. And I don't believe you. You said that last time you went cliff diving, and look where we are now. You need to be more responsible."

"Alright" I mutter. "Whatever you say, I'm going to bed!"

Bella huffed, but didn't protest further. "Fine. Do what you want. But don't come crying to me when something goes wrong."

"Jeez Bella, calm down!" I snapped, glaring at her as I stepped closer to the stairs. 

 "Don't tell me to calm down! You're the one acting recklessly, taking unnecessary risks. It's so frustrating dealing with you sometimes" She snaps. 

"Oh yeah? And what about those bikes you're building with Jake? Didn't think I knew about them did ya?"

She froze, her eyes widening slightly. "You keep things from me, you take stupid risks, you do things and act like it's no big deal. I'm sick of it."

"And you shut me out ! For months! When that Cullen left you, you stopped existing and you shut me out, your own twin!"

Bella's defenses crumbled a little at my words. There was a hint of guilt in her eyes as she realised the truth in my accusation.

"I... I didn't shut you out. I just..."

"No nothing Bella. You don't get to yell at me for living my life, Im done arguing" I say walking away, running up to my room, tears leaving my eyes. 

Taglist:

@jaybbygrl, @strayteez3staner, @8crazy-freak8, @idontliketoread2137, @bonni-98 @wh0reforbucknasty

[stinkrascal]

previous | next | beginning

TRANSCRIPT

Breanna: You like to drink, huh? Vladislaus: I was planning to clean... Breanna: Uhuh, I bet. Vladislaus: [ clears throat ] It is no matter, we must continue our training. Breanna: Training? We can't count all that walking we did as training?

Vladislaus: Training one's powers is very different from training one's legs, my dear. Breanna: To be honest, I think I got the hang of it. Vladislaus: What makes you say that? Breanna: I dunno, I just do.

Vladislaus: Very well, then. Perhaps our training can wait. It's dawned upon me I know very little about you. Breanna: I dunno nothing about you.

Vladislaus: Tell me something about yourself. Breanna: You tell me. Vladislaus: About... yourself? Breanna: About you, dumbie. Vladislaus: ...What would you care to know?

Breanna: Where you from? Vladislaus: I can't say. Breanna: What, it's a secret? Vladislaus: I have no memory of my origins. Breanna: Oh. Oopsies. Well I'm from Louisiana, I lived in Evangeline parish most my life.

Vladislaus: What about your family? Breanna: ...What about them? Vladislaus: You must have someone worth mentioning. Breanna: I got a mom and a sister. That's it. Vladislaus: That's it? Breanna: Well, I used to date this one guy... Vladislaus: What of your father? Breanna: He died when I was little.

Vladislaus: I'm sorry. Breanna: It's fine, I don't even think about him honestly. What about you? Do you got any family? Vladislaus: None that I remember.

Vladislaus: I have spent two centuries here. It is only here that I have any meaningful memories. My spawn are my family, now. Caleb, Lilith... and you. Breanna: Huh? Oh. Cool.

Vladislaus: [ chuckles ] Perhaps cool is not the word I would use to describe one losing their memories to the passage of time, but to each their own. Breanna: Nah dude, I hope I lose every last one.

Vladislaus: You say this, but when your past begins to feel like a distant dream, I think you will feel differently.

Breanna: I think you got a big fuckin' head.

Vladislaus: All I ask is you pace yourself. The transition from human to vampire is more overwhelming than you give credit.

Breanna: I'm being careful, you don't have to remind me. I'm not stupid.

Vladislaus: I am urging caution, that is all. I realize your quick progress has emboldened you, but that is all the more reason to heed my warning, girl.

Vladislaus: You cut it very close today. Breanna: ...It really was an accident. Vladislaus: I never said it wasn't.

Vladislaus: You are only a fledgling. Of course, it is so that your powers... escape you at times. That is why I urge you to be cautious, my dear.

Vladislaus: [ snickers ] And that is why we have a rigorous training routine! Breanna: Rigorous, my ass. We haven't done shit today. Vladislaus: Nothing escapes you.

Breanna: Uhuh. You're alright Mr. Straud. Vladislaus: Vladislaus, please. Breanna: My momma always told me to respect my elders. Vladislaus: Thank you for that. Breanna: So how old are you anyways?

Vladislaus: [ sighs ] Old enough to know better. Breanna: I'm 21 by the way. Vladislaus: Good to know. Breanna: So you're like 30? Vladislaus: Is that a serious question?

Breanna: Yes? Vladislaus: I am well over two centuries old, my dear. Breanna: Oh. I meant, like, your body. Vladislaus: Isn't it rude to pry a man about his age? Breanna: That's only for women dumbass.

Vladislaus: Where do you think you're going? Breanna: Oh, nowhere. Just going to find Lily. I gotta ask her something important. Vladislaus: Have you forgotten your training? Breanna: We're vampires, why would we train in the sun?

Breanna: Shouldn't we train at night? Vladislaus: I hear your point. Breanna: It's pretty sad you need me to tell you how to do your job dude. Vladislaus: It is, isn't it?

Vladislaus: Farewell, little creature. Stay out of trouble. Breanna: Always!! ❤

[fandoms--fluff]

The Right Plan

Younger Mikaelson sister reader x Hope Mikaelson

Summary: little blurb of Hope's younger sister, you, pestering her into doing something fun for a change. - you're only a year or two younger than Hope.

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Soooo?" You urged on. "No" Hope immediately replied. "Oh come on, seriously? It'll be so much fun!" You exclaim, making Hope look up from her grimoire.

"I know for a fact that it most certainly won't be so much fun. Especially when Mom and Dad find out" she crosses her arms, grimoire forgotten on her lap.

"You don't know that they will" you urge, still standing your ground on the situation. Your older sister looks up at you, an eyebrow raised in knowing.

"Okay, fine, so there's a good chance they'd find out. BUT if we concoct the right plan there's also a good chance that they won't find out as well." You explain to her.

"Really? You really want to go into all this, probably going to get in trouble either way, just to sneak out and go to a party in the middle of the woods? Is it just me or does that sound like a road to disaster?" She asks rhetorically, relaying what you've been nagging about to her for the past half an hour. Though in all honesty, she only started really listening to you for the past five minutes. The rest beforehand she was blocking out.

"So what if it is, at least we'll have fun for once instead of being in danger and almost dying by one of our family's never ending enemies." You stood from Hope's desk chair and walked in front of where she's sitting on her bed. "Plus, it'll be a natural experience that all teenagers should experience at least once in their lives" you shine your puppy dog eyes, as she calls them, to your sister.

Your persuasion tactics kicked in. Hope sighed and moved the heavy grimoire from her lap before she stood up in front of you. "Fine. But, on one condition" she says, giving into your desire of going to a party that's not formal and surrounded by family and vampires or supernatural creatures.

"Yes, anything" you nod, excitement practically oozing out of you. "We have to stay together the entire time, no wandering off, I don't want one of us to end up lost. And we have to tell at least one person where we're going."

You think it over for a second before groaning out, "fine." "But do we have to tell someone?" You say right after agreeing with her conditions.

All hope does is cross her arms and lift one of her eyebrows up again for you to sign and nod your head, succumbing to her wishes. "Alright, alright. Who should we tell...that's not going to get us in trouble" you point your finger up at her, knowing exactly who she was going to suggest.

"You don't know that he wou-" you cut her off with a blank stare. "...okay so maybe Uncle Elijah would, but would that be so bad?.. okay, fine I guess it would" she says after seeing the look you're giving her.

"Exactly. The old man is horrible at keeping anything from Mom or Dad. Especially if it somehow is linked back to us" you huff out, it's extremely annoying at times.

"Fine then. Who do you suggest?" She asks. You think for a moment before a smirk settles on your face.

Oh no, that's never good, you can basically hear Hope's thoughts flowing through her mind.

"Oh please, it's not that bad. Who do we know that loves to go behind everyone's back to have fun and create mischief? Huh? That's right, Uncle Kol. He would only tell Mom or Dad if there's something serious going on or we're in trouble. Think about it" you encourage.

Hope thinks it over for a solid minute while you just stabs there bored out of your mind for the longest minute you've has to endure in a while. "Alright, that works" she nods in agreement finally.

"Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You crash into your older sister, wrapping your arms around her torso in a hug. She wraps her arms right back around your neck, returning the embrace. "You're lucky," she whispers. "I know" you whisper back.

[nicoleanell]

(actual link to gif set because tumblr's being weird)

Man it's the fact this statement is weirdly big and generous and brave in Armand's mind. I think it was Assad or someone else who said it was a moment of overconfidence or almost gloating, which is not the exact vibe I get, but I think there's something to that big-headedness of having survived and gotten through it and it's over now and just... He just wants to see. He just wants to skip that little stone down the cliff and see what happens. Maybe if nothing happens *then* he would actually be able to exhale. (He will not. He'd find something else. There's an itch in him that's never going to be secure enough in the bed he made.) Maybe it's just wanting to test something - Louis or himself or how many ways he can't die.

People tie it directly to Armand not being able to say the words in 2x05, which is probably intentional, but also it's not *exactly* the same because for one thing it's in the Past Tense now. It's very much meant as a moment of *closure* - he DID love you, past tense, we don't know where he is or how he feels now and that doesn't matter - while in San Francisco with Lestat right there on the mind telephone, it was the present tense terror that maybe that really was all Louis needed to hear to go running back to him.

But their relationship has also changed SO dramatically since San Francisco that it feels like even the past-tense version is a very, very precarious thing to admit. Because it's not about the material love triangle, it's not who-will-Bella-Swan-choose, it's about 70 years of mythmaking and storytelling.

SIDEBAR: The show left us IMO with a very frustrating ambiguity about the extent to which Armand has used his mind powers on Louis, like to the point where you have some fans believing that *every single fucking memory* we saw onscreen that they didn't like for the last two seasons is Fake News actually, and other fans believing it happened Just That One Time GOD. (I personally lean toward way *less* mind manipulation than other people assume, and if it was literally JUST the shit that happened in 1973 that's... enough to be messed up lol. I think the "love of my life" and finishing each other's sentences scenes have some unsettling implications. I *don't* think Louis having imperfect recall and limited perspective of stuff that happened a century ago is because of Armand all or even *most* of the time.)

But the fact no matter what is that Louis has a lot of cognitive dissonance around Lestat because he WANTS it acknowledged on some bone-deep level that Lestat loved him, because he loved/continues to love him too. And if we're gonna insist on throwing the word "gaslighting" around when we just mean "lying", then at the end of the day it's about Louis being told he's not crazy by someone who has at times made him feel that way.

Idk maybe this is me getting Too Deep about a finale I still think is kinda unsatisfying and already had way too much to do with Lestat and not enough with Claudia. But I do like that moment when I look past the toxic love triangle and more toward "hey buddy [my best friend Armand] why are you Like That" and Louis' little smile breaking my heart.

Something sad about that moment is Armand's right that saying those words *doesn't* end the world, and if nothing else had happened and Daniel and the Vampire CIA weren't on their divorce-attorney kick, that'd be the end of it. (Hot take I don't think saying the words or not in 1973 would've really made a difference either, and there's so much more nuanced and wild shit going on there than an undelivered message romcom beat.) And Louis would be *grateful* for that moment of understanding and closure between them.

[fishfingersandscarves]

I don't even bother scrolling the ao3 armandaniel tag anymore, I just wait for your glorious art and then read whatever you illustrate...

That being said if you had any recommendations I'd happily take the o' knowledgeable one

ah nonnie i am happy to pull some from my meticulously vetted list

remember to read and mind all the tags

a haunting just for company by valkyrisms

"I know what a breakup looks like," Daniel says. "The better question is, why are you coming to me about it? I'm the one who broke up your little sham." "This is what humans do, don't they?" Armand asks, letting his voice drop. "Crashing on their friends' couches when there's a blip in their romances?" "Except we're not friends. We're actually very much not friends." Daniel shrugs, as if it's all the same to him. "And I can't imagine the great vampire Armand deigning himself to sleep on my fucked-up sofa. That thing's been here since the nineties." "Well," Armand only says. "I saw you have a guest bedroom."

Lie Back and Let Me Unlock You by Thunder_Puss

Independently wealthy man, early 30's, seeks arrangement with young male aged 18-25, not too muscular and no more than 200lbs (anything more would be most unmanageable) to share my apartment and affection with for 1 year until slaughter. All needs up to that point will be met -surpassingly so, I must admit, as I can be rather doting. There will be no need to consider expenses as they will be covered entirely by myself- "-There will be a rigorous interview process consisting of correspondence by email..." Daniel shook his head, laughing. "Of course, buddy. I'm sure I'll have a lot of competition." He raised his whiskey glass to his lips and wet them. "If this sounds like an amenable blah blah... Christ, this guy is verbose. I'll have to bring along a thesaurus to keep up." Daniel Molloy was 24, not too muscular, and no more than 200lbs. He was also steadfast and enterprising -when he could keep his nose clean- and had nothing more interesting to do than chase a story about an independently wealthy man with the screen name Botticelli_Angel who seemed to have the world's most taboo kink. Daniel could play the part, see where the story took him for a while. If shit got too weird, he'd dip. (Spoiler: He doesn’t dip.)

the sin and this mess we're in by ringfinger

He’s sitting on a beach he hates, trading shitty jokes with a centuries-old monster whose body count would put Ed Gein to shame and who is almost certainly also plotting to turn him into a flesh lampshade. “Don’t be dramatic,” Armand says, picking up on that thread, “I do wish you’d stop returning to that.”

how memory makes monsters into myth by blueskiddoo

“I said I’m fine, Alice,” Daniel snaps, and time itself grinds to a halt. Not literally. Ha. The things you have to specify with vampires. Daniel wishes he could laugh, but the sound is stuck somewhere in his throat, along with his heart. Now, of course, his hand chooses to be perfectly still. Why the fuck did he say that? * daniel keeps slipping up and mistaking armand for his ex-wife and the more he looks back on his memories, the less reliable they get. he's pretty sure he married alice molloy, but how do you marry a woman who apparently never existed? armand is armand about it.

chase away my heart and heartache by sahwen

With nowhere to go and an eternity ahead of him, Armand decided to work his way backwards. Or: Armand's Tour de Divorce in six acts.

to stretch the night, to fill it fuller with dreams by typefortydeductions

Armand and Daniel return to Venice to confront some of Armand's oldest demons. Louis comes with them, trailing ghosts of his own.

I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love. by cannibalenthusiast

“Did we call each other boyfriend? Surely not. Sounds weird even saying out loud.” “You were my beloved,” Armand says. “My lover. My boy.” “Your human pet. Your mortal fool. I get it,” Daniel says, not neglecting to notice his use of the past tense. “You want to go see a movie?”

such a pretty box (all fancy wrappings, and a bow on top) by snuffreel

“That is a fascinating shade of scarlet. In the dark, now, it almost matches the color of her blood.” Or: Armand, Daniel, and the age-old question of what's really inside a girl.

flash the camera (you're a star) by exastris_scientia

Daniel is starting to think he should put a little more thought into the promises he makes in the heat of the moment. He’d qualified it a little, sure, so technically he doesn’t have to do it. And it’s not like he needs the money, not after Louis and Armand had thrown his that’s my whore number comment back in his face by actually paying him ten million fucking dollars. But a promise is a promise, even if it’s one literally no one would expect him to follow through on. Whatever. He said he would, so he will. It might be fun. So he starts an OnlyFans.

bang it up inside by leavethebes

"Come on," Daniel goads. "Come the fuck on."

she will be your living end by kanxie

Daniel reaches his hand out for Armand to take. They wait a few moments in silence as the world stops moving around them. The animals hush. The air stills. A faint smell of smoky dust drops from the sky and lifts from the ground. Rural Armenia has always been too quiet for Armand, but this is to a level where noise itself seems to atrophy into a cold, nightmare-like state. Armand takes his hand, and the usual dampened sounds of movement are stark in this nothingness. “It's okay to admit you're scared,” says Daniel. His deep and rumbling voice. Armand keens for it in the lamplight.

Armand and Daniel are at home when the bell tolls.

Backroads to Sonoma by burntcrimson

Where the hell have you been, Daniel wonders, and why me? A bloody American summer in the belly of the AIDS crisis.

open eyes and behind your teeth by tisiphones

It wasn't fascinating, the way the boy didn't know whether to lean into the touch or away from it, confused by the comfort and the pain it offered in equal measures. It wasn't. Armand could do the same thing — did do the same thing, whenever Louis deigned to touch him at all — and Louis still thought he was boring. It couldn't be this that had captivated him. But that didn't mean it wasn't fun. --- Armand weighs the pros and cons of dog ownership.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where Louis is a villain of some sort as requested in an ask I can no longer find oof Hope you see this rec whoever asked for it! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

💀 Wanted Most by BornOnABeach

(E, 156k, thief Louis) Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

💀 Cover Me with Jewels by ShatteredGlassHouse / @larryislove

(E, 55k, thief Louis) the one where Louis is a jewel thief and dating Harry Styles, the heir to a designer jewellery business empire, but Louis worries Harry will discover him, so he disappears for five years. 

💀 Tied Down by HamPalpert

(E, 48k, drug dealer Louis) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson. 

💀 I'll Throw Away My Faith (Just To Keep You Safe) by @theboyfriendstagram

(E, 42k, assassin Louis) AU. Harry Styles is an MI6 agent on a mission to find out who’s planning on killing the Prime Minister. Louis Tomlinson is a wanted professional assassin, hired by the MI6 to kill whoever wants to kill the Prime Minister.

💀 Please, Deceive Me by Larringiscaring

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis robs casino's with his ex-boyfriend, and Harry trusts a criminal a little more than he should

💀 no pressure, no diamonds by @karamelised

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

💀 Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 40k, thief Louis) Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

💀 The Risen (series) by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 28k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.

💀 For You, I Will (I Don't Believe in Magic, but) by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(E, 17k, criminal Louis) Louis leads two lives, when all he wants is a simple one with Harry.

💀 focal point by rainbowsandgucci

(M, 8k, thief Louis) By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking. Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand. Don’t forget about me. xx P.S. Thanks for the money

💀 Daisy by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve

(E, 3k, mob au) An assassin who lurks in shadows, who kills with a detachment towards his victims, their death always displayed artfully for anyone who stumbles upon the corpse once his work is done.

💀 Stealing My Trust by Phillipa19

(E, 3k, organized crime) Harry hates the danger Louis' 'job' puts him in, but no one ever said being in love with a criminal would be easy.

💀 we're swimming with the sharks until we drown by velvetnoodle

(T, 3k, thief Louis) There’s only one thing that makes Harry’s job on the casino floor bearable, and that’s a chance to grab the attention of the mysterious man who frequents the establishment often.

💀 How to Catch a Christmas Tree by Anonymous

(E, 2k, omegaverse) It's two days until Christmas and Harry needs a Christmas tree.

💀 Marionette by Anonymous

(E, 2k, witch Louis) Harry is a vampire on the hunt. He doesn’t know that he’s not the top of the food chain.

💀 The shape I've made you into by flamboyo / @riverswater

(M, 1k, established relationship) "Sometimes, I wish you'd hit me."

💀 Twenty-Eight by @beardyboyzx

(M, 1k, spy au) Agent Harry Styles has finally caught his nemesis, but there's a knot in the plot he's not ready to detangle.

- Rare Pairs -

💀 To Catch a Thief by StormDancer

(E, 49k, Zayn/Louis) There are some rules even thieves have trouble breaking. Marriage vows, for instance.

[massiveharmonytiger]

Anyone ever think about the fact that Armand probably hated the hell out of Claudia for having what he never could.

Claudia gets rescued from death as an innocent. Armand gets rescued from death as someone whose innocence died the day those slavers captured and raped him.

Claudia gets Louis and Lestat's love and takes it for granted. Armand craves their love but gets their scorn.

After she is made a vampire, Claudia lives with two caring fathers only to pine for a mortal life she'll never have and run away from the situation when the cruelty of being a vampire gets to be too much for her.

Obviously this isn't how I see it. Claudia had every right to run away after how she was treated and seek out her own answers. And her child/fledglinghood definitely wasn't all sunshine and roses. Her aunt abused her, Lestat was extremely cruel to her after Charlie's death, the Loustat brawl, Lestat dropping Louis from the sky, Bruce's abuse - all of these were extremely traumatizing and hard to live through.

My point is that Armand could know all of this and still see Claudia's past as the rosy childhood he never had because his was just that fucked up.

Also, I think book Armand is enslaved around a similar age to when book Claudia is turned (I read it this way, although I'm struggling to confirm this, can anyone confirm?) and I can see him wondering why he couldn't have had the dark gift to protect him then. Why does Claudia get it? Why is she any more worthy than he is?

Where Claudia doesn't have to do a thing, Armand has to prove his cruel streak to earn the dark gift and after he is made a vampire, he lives with his groomer, Marius, who is set on fire and Armand is captured by a coven that teaches him to hate himself until Lestat steps in.

So yeah, why would he stop the coven from killing her when she's had everything he's ever wanted?

Side note because I've seen some really bad takes on the Marius/Armand relationship.

Yes, Armand was in love with Marius and Marius loved him too. Yes, Marius rescued Armand from the brothel. Yes, Marius was kinder than Armand's slavers and Armand enjoyed a lot of the sex stuff he did when he was living with Marius. Yes, pederasty was normalized during that time and Marius was just acting like any man in his position would.

AND

Marius was still a groomer and an abuser. Marius was still in a position of power pulling strings to get Armand to do what he wanted and throwing tantrums when things didn't go his way. Marius still got off on Armand worshipping him. Marius was still Armand's owner and his kindness was dependent on Armand doing what he said (like letting himself be donated when a friend came from out of town - some people will say Armand was lying about that, to which I say, fuck you).

The fact that Armand enjoyed sex, started fetishizing his own abuse and using his body as a tool of manipulation doesn't make him complicit, neither does the fact that Marius had redeeming qualities (beauty, kindness, wisdom) and Armand fell in love with him.

None of this makes what Armand went through any less traumatizing. He's 500 years old and we can still see him grapple with what happened in his childhood.

I have no idea how they're going to portray Marius/Armand's childhood in the show, but I feel that even just a fraction of this would make Armand's resentment of Claudia pretty real, and I really hope we get to see Armand confront this in later seasons even though I'm pretty sure a lot of it is unconscious and he may not even be fully aware that he feels this way.

Update: Okay, so the consensus seems to be that book Armand was 15 which is pretty close to show Claudia's age (which is 14) and I don't think this is accidental. I think the showrunners highlighted this on purpose because they know that when we're engaging with the show, we're engaging with the books as well. This actually helped me realize how Armand and Claudia were technically both "child vampires" in the books, but Claudia was the only one that was really treated that way because she was turned at 5. Armand was turned at 17, and teenagers are so sexualised (then and now) and have so many demands placed on them that people tend to forget that they're also just kids.

[majorasnightmare]

okay so like. mizora

im pretty sure we're in agreement that the conditions for wylls pact were sus as fuck right? like there just happened to be a fully formed cult to tiamat rarin to go right outside baldurs gate mid ritual, and the home of high harper and nosy grandma JAHEIRA didnt notice shit?? nobody saw anything and no one could confirm wylls story despite baldurs gate having an active enough night life to sustain 7 actively hunting vampire spawn for at LEAST 200 years AND a sewer murder cult committing covert assassinations and murder sprees??? with a cult of bane conducting weapons trade deals and the knights of the shield operating a smuggling ring??? the flaming fist didnt even see anything to pointedly ignore??? not a single chickenshit recruit filed a report about observing a dragons head in the night sky with a filed dismissal by a senior officer claiming they probably drank too much. Saitama_Okay.jpg

im personally of the opinion that zariel didnt stage that particular incident but DID utilize agents to provoke tiamats cult into action while also stifling potential witnesses. we know raphael does similar because of his stupid chess themed letters to his own agents, so its not unreasonable to suspect zariel is doing the same. but i think the REAL prize of that particular operation was not the destruction of an active tiamat cult, but instead something more subtle and with a potentially higher payoff: the ear of duke ravengards son. a dragon cult getting annhilated was a bonus, and a convenient call to action besides

mizora, by karlachs admission, was part of zariels personal inner circle (by choice, as devils are ambitious creatures with a drive to climb the ladder). this means that, through mizora, zariel herself took direct personal interest in wyll ravenguard. wyll himself was only 17 years old by this point: he had yet to achieve anything of note and was drifting through noble highborn society as the odd man out, son to a lowborn duke who rised through meritocracy and raised to appreciate the down-to-earth rural pasttimes his father grew up with, like fishing. wyll himself had nothing to offer to a devil besides his heritage; baldurs gate is full enough of self sacrificing do-gooders to keep the harpers regularly staffed, and The Urge regularly sated. for mizora to target wyll specifically makes the most sense if the real target was his connection to the current grand duke of baldur's gate, a city home to a practicing diabolist, several evil cults, and itself has been a hotbed of planar activity thanks to the dead threes meddling for YEARS. that ulder also commands the flaming fist, the gates de facto policing force, is also a point to consider.

this is also reflected in wylls pact, and the terms we experience of it. wyll specifically states that the terms of his pact primarily target the evil, the monstrous, and the heartless. remember, this is BEFORE he was the blade of frontiers. he became a warlock 7 years before the game, but only became the Blade five years prior to the plot. thats a two year gap of being a warlock but not the blade, where his pact STILL primarily targeted monsters. this is. a REALLY weird pact for a devil to offer! like firstly, its overwhelmingly in wylls favor. there is very little wyll does FOR mizora, and the targets she assigns to wyll near exclusively align with his moral code. he sees no reason to doubt mizoras portrayal of karlach, and has to be prompted into sparing her even as he hesitates, because past experience has told him that mizoras targets DO deserve to be slain as judged by HIS beliefs, as indicated by his line of participating in a mummers farce, and him playing his part all too poorly. wylls upset at himself for not thinking to question mizoras target and considering his hunt of karlach to be just. clearly thats because, in every other instance, wyll believed that to be the case!

thats REALLY FUCKIN WEIRD for a devil! like yes mizora gets to take down political rivals using wyll, because wyll knows devils are evil, but. thats a really weird pact to sign in return for destroying a cult mid god summon? like you could extort a LOT more for that and be assured youd get it, cuz its ALL OF BALDURS GATE and the RETURN OF TIAMAT on the line. and it doesnt seem to be a case of poor dealmaking, unlike raphael, whos every deal overwhelmingly reeks of desperation. he'll translate astarions back if you kill yurgir, because he really really really needs you to kill yurgir before he figures out raphael played him and he gets out because of it, and the clock is rapidly ticking down on that because balthazar is already in the temple, interacting with the dark justiciar skeletons, and actively looking for yurgir because the orthons annoying him. we are literally a single step removed from balthazar casually dropping the fact theres a dark justiciar hivemind in the bodies of 100 rats and raphael getting his ass beat for setting yurgir up. raphael really really wants you to hate the emperor and free orpheus because the only bargaining chip he has is the hammer, and in the midst of THAT deal literally spells out its location for you and why youd want it, for free. raphael the crown of karsus is almost in reach but to defeat the absolute ill need the plastic card you dad keeps in his wallet, make sure you send me the 16 numbers on the front, the 3 on the back, and the expiration date! hurry raphael we dont have much time!

comparitively mizora only ever bargains from a perceived position of strength. she can afford to make demands of wyll because he has no way to stop tiamats summoning without her. then, later, she has the easiest and most accessible source of information for wylls father knowing his life is in danger as a political prisoner. these are very strong bargaining positions! shes only ever undercut by the players presence bargaining on wylls behalf. its a quick and easy way to show that her inflated opinion of herself isnt entirely without merit, although her second pact is framed as choosing between two potential agreements, save wyll and kill ulder, or save ulder and damn wyll, when in reality shes proposing a new pact that has no authority over wyll OR ulder until signed (which is why you can save ulder because she doesnt actually have the pact given authority to insta kill him the way she implies, she can only throw thwartable assassins at him like anyone else with a grudge). shes a manipulator with plenty of skin in the game and a good amount of success behind her that justifies her position within zariels court. the point of this is make a point of highlighting how *little* mizora actually fucks with wyll *as enabled by the terms of the pact*. mizora is cruel, she is manipulative, she is condescending and rude, and she makes wylls life awful with her presence, but takes very few ACTIONS towards those ends, and relies primarily on verbally demeaning him. when he violates a clause in their pact, mizora utilizes a loophole to make karlach qualify by its terms and then punishes wyll by infusing his soul with infernal essence. thats... really it. you can watch wyll backtalk her, but she doesnt even do that leash yank she does in act 1. if you blenderize her, wyll dies by the pacts terms, but like. mizora literally also dies, and is REALLY upset by it to boot. you break wylls pact, tell mizora to fuck off with her second one, and she just kinda stomps her foot and fucks off for a bit before loitering in your camp still. as a warlock you can even mention to wyll that she very easily could have snatched his soul about the karlach thing but she doesnt.

in terms of "classic warlock struggles" we barely see mizora do anything beyond being an Unpleasant Person wyll is forced to interact with. theres none of the classic "being compelled to do something evil for self serving ends at risk of suffering The Horrors", mizora barely even tries to corrupt him. wyll is never forced by mizora into circumstances where he has to evaluate his code of ethics against an action he needs to take and decide what parts of his moral code he needs to capitulate on and what to keep, wyll keeps almost every single line in the sand he ever draws! his biggest character conflicts are actually between his OWN ideals, whether to live within the heroic persona of the Blade of Frontiers, or to accept his own capability of failings and live as Wyll Ravengard. like. being a warlock barely factors at all into those decisions and the closest it comes to mattering is choosing whether or not wyll breaks his pact or saves his father, which you can expose as a false choice by just rescuing his dad anyways. mizora exerts that little influence over wylls interior world. for a literal devil on his shoulder, bargaining from the greatest position of strength a negotiator could ask for, that is so fucking WEIRD.

okay thats a whole lotta post pointing out that mizoras motivations for even makin the damn pact in the first place needs examining, so now several paragraphs in let me actually get to what i MEANT to talk about. so firstly weve established that 17 yr old wyll doesnt have anything unique to entice a devil beyond his connection to the grand duke. weve established that the pact is weirdly in wylls favor, and that its pointedly not a Skill Issue but seems to be intentional, and furthermore that the POINT of the pact doesnt seem to be corrupting a good soul into the embrace of the Hells to make a new devil, because the pact seems to be made to allow wyll to just Be Himself comfortably without much internal conflict or moral sacrifice. we know that wyll made the pact before he became the blade of frontiers, and thus the pact was not made with the Blade of Frontiers persona in mind, which removes another layer of potential justification for the extremely loose terms of the pact. we know zariel is interested in wyll through the usage of mizora as his patron, and we know that stopping the summoning of tiamat without any external aid from the myriad conflicting interests within baldurs gate almost definitely necessitated a good amount of smokescreen work behind the scenes, but also that it most likely wasnt staged in its entirely because it benefits zariel to thwart tiamats ambitions. so. why is wyll ravengard a warlock pacted to mizora? i suggest the following hypothetical: that mizoras goal, and by extension zariels, was to have a morally agreeable framework within which to make a pact with duke ravengards son, such that hed be guaranteed to agree to it, and then to hide the evidence of the pacts circumstances to allow themselves greater reign to act within baldurs gate. that the goal was to have a devil on the shoulder of the dukes son, to push their relationship into strain so as to make ulder ravengards behavior more predictable and thus vulnerable to manipulation, and that through mizora (through wyll), zariel would have a first hand source to the inner political workings of baldurs gate, and the movements of the flaming fist and the goals they were pursuing. through the fist, zariel could keep track of the cult elements they were investigating (and thus what rivals need deposing), and through wyll and his father, zariel could monitor the movements of the gates upper class and utilize mizoras skillset to ingratiate wyll further into high society and put him in close proximity to those capable of mustering meaningful resistance to an influx of infernal influence. wylls relationship to his father prior to his pact was good, we know ulder was a firm but loving father and that wyll was generally well liked in baldurs gate in general, and that wyll openly admired his father and sought to follow in his footsteps. it is in fact extremely reasonable to suspect that such a good relationship was more than a single incident away from breaking. its in fact more reasonable to presume that a major political figure would be aware of the adage of keeping ones friends close, and enemies closer, such that you could monitor their movements. its reasonable to believe that one would assume good intentions on the part of ones son, who himself has made it known that he desires to be like you. to assume, in good faith, that even with all signs of dragoncult activity removed, that ones son clearly lost his eye and gained new scars *somehow*, through *some* kind of incident related to his new fiend pact. all of these are logical and reasonable things to assume and plan for, when you have made a point of manipulating people, of reading their intentions and catering to them like a monkeys paw.

that ulder ravengard would not just chastise wyll, but banish him from baldur's gate entirely, must have been a horrible shock, not just for wyll, but for mizora. i doubt the uneventful two year gap between taking the pact and becoming the blade was purposeful. it makes more sense to interpet that as mizora simply having no fucking idea what to do with her warlock now, as the pact she dictated (designed so that wyll never felt it was unjust enough to make a point of breaking it, no matter how often he thought of doing so, because it was so in favor of him and aligned with his moral code), simply had no vehicles for any of the usual courses of action. cant force wyll into tricky moral quandries, because she can only ask him to kill evil, infernal, monstrous, or heartless beasts. cant ostracize him through the pact to isolate and grind him down, wyll cant talk about it. what do you even do? now your both stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the pact to show for it

and heres where i veer into hot take interpretation country. i think mizora genuinely likes wyll. when you blenderize her in moonrise towers (before reloading a previous save ofc), her screams are oddly... genuine? confused, frightened, upset. its odd than an otherwise vindictive and catty individual isnt angry upon being killed, but confused and hurt sounding. i think in a lot of ways mizora both relies on the consistency of wylls moral code, while also considering it a hinderance, not to her plans (thoroughly derailed thanks to one ulder ravengard) but to wylls own personal development as a person. shes a devil, she doesnt have the kind of personality where she can be genuine and vulnerable and kind. but she was stuck as the only authority figure wyll had to rely on, for seven whole years, after being kicked out of the only life he ever knew and the only home he ever had. i think in a weird fucked up way, she really does want whats best for him, its just that her opinion of that is filtered through the lens of Literally Being A Devil. none of this is to say she was *good* to wyll. how wyll feels about mizora is pretty blatantly stated, and would be a much shorter post, and im not here to interrogate that or question it, because being stuck with a devil who can use your eye to spy on you is just an awful experience even without regular verbal degradation on top of it. im mostly just intrigued by the other end of that relationship. mizora clearly cares enough about keeping wyll as a warlock to go as far as trying to make a second pact with him if you succeed in negotiating the first one to be broken. which, as weve established above, is really weird because Wyll himself brings next to nothing a devil would value to the table. Mizora isnt trying to corrupt him into breaking his ethics, really the only thing she pushes is sacrificing his father instead, a decision a recruited minthara finds value in as "patricide is often the first step to greatness". i think mizora might have ulterior motives for wanting ulder ravengard dead, and i think its because she believes that wylls love for his father is holding him back. any time wyll is selfish in pushing back on her, mizora indicates some measure of being impressed on wylls behalf. if you encourage wyll to not sign the second pact, mizora taunts him with his fathers death but still says shes genuinely impressed that hes choosing himself over his father

genuinely i think what mizora wants is for wyll to become a more assertive person. a more selfish, self interested, less heroic, less self sacrificing individual. i think mizora considers wylls tendency to bend over backwards to help people to be actively detrimental to him, and i think shes invested in his growth as a person by virtue of being a guide and companion for seven of the loneliest years of wylls life, and in a fucked up devil kind of way i think she invests her pride into it. that, with her plans so thoroughly mangled, the LEAST she can do is forge wyll into a warlock worth the cost. wyll has so much potential he refuses to take, as minthara (another ambitious prideful character) will note, and its explicitly because he would rather give something up than take for himself. i think thats part of why mizora is so cruel and demeaning towards him, to try and push wyll to be pettier or more spiteful, instead of endlessly self sacrificing for the benefit of others, and this is even consistent with her punishment of wyll! she turns him into a devil and specifically notes that he wont be able to be the heroic persona The Blade of Frontiers anymore! ie the facade thats swallowed up wyll ravengard completely at the beginning of the story! i think her investment in wyll as a person is why shes so upset if you kill her at moonrise, because i think she genuinely thought that wyll would always save her and turning him into a lemure was a kind of bluff she didnt expect to cash in.

this would also explain why the terms of her second pact are so comically extreme. eternal damnation and serving zariel forever in return for maybe possibly getting to save ulder from a dangerous situation where he might die anyways from the absolute crisis and WILL die in a few decades from old age even if all goes well? its almost like shes taunting wyll. give it up, give up everything youve ever worked for and sacrifice everything you want to achieve to lock yourself into the worst evil you can think of for someone who banished you who might not even survive anyways. make this overwhelmingly stupid self sacrifice because thats just what you do wyll, never think of yourself or whats best for you, only other people, trade away all of eternity for the CHANCE of someone else getting another day, if THAT. this contract is so blatantly overwhelmingly unfair i DARE you to think so little of yourself youd agree to it. of course she wont congratulate him for choosing himself over his father, shes a devil and she has to rub salt in the wound, but that doesnt mean she disapproves of the choice. the only way wyll ever gets away from her is by thinking of himself and mizora takes every chance she gets to punish him for sacrificing himself and i think its because she knows he can do more if he just takes it for himself instead of passing it up. its the only kind of affection a devil can have. and every time i sit there and talk wyll through breaking his pact at moonrise and bully mizora into giving him a rapier (one of the best in the game, made specifically for wyll, made specifically out of his pact, when she doesnt have to give him anything and least of all something good, how its a reward specifically for wanting more from her and demanding it and not letting a circumstance where you have power over her go), i keep seeing hints of it underneath the surface.

a genuine devilish compassion for a warlock who rightfully loathes her, a loathing she encourages whenever she can. does wyll need an enemy to keep him from getting complacent? something to strive for thats just for his own benefit? it doesnt benefit anyone else for wyll to break his pact. most people benefit from him keeping it. its why he HAS kept it, all these years, despite hating mizora. i think mizoras taken it upon herself to do what the duke refuses to, and thats making sure Wyll becomes someone who can thrive in the world as she understands it. someone who has the ambition to reach higher, someone selfish enough to step on somebody else to get what they need, someone who refuses to get themselves killed just for somebody elses sake, somebody who doesnt give unless they receive in equal or greater value. someone who sees a situation where they have power, where someone needs them, and gets all they can out of it. and if not for people they want to protect, then at LEAST exploiting the people they HATE. does mizora demean him so much so that wyll is more comfortable firing back? so that wyll doesnt have to feel like hes becoming a worse person if he treats her as bad as he gets? if he treats his help as conditional, for her and only her, does he get to walk away feeling like he hasnt done anything wrong because he knows mizora does worse, and more often, and at least wyll will eventually help?

when he breaks his pact, and tells her no, he wont sign another, when he saves his father anyways, when he tells her off and gets everything he wants without sacrificing a damn thing, underneath the bluster and rage, is mizora proud of him?

things to consider sometime.