#if he still had his long hair i would honestly just. Ascend

[banqanas]

I miss them (their long hair) 😔🙏

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You

summary: the ascension changed the person Astarion was, or so you believed. you broke up and parted ways after defeating the netherbrain, thinking it was for the best, but when you see him again 6 months later at the reunion, you realize you never truly moved on.

and it seems neither did he.

rating: E

word count: 3.9k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader) (fic wide), shadowheart x you (chapter 1 specifically)

cw: 18+. angst, smut, porn with plot, porn with (some) feelings, ascended astarion, bad breakup, awkwardly avoiding your ex, alcohol induced sex, rebound sex (in the sense that youre trying to forget about your ex but you might have feelings for that other person too), oral sex, fingering, stalking, kidnapping, mild violence.

a/n: i have been working on this for over a month now, i have 2 other chapters also ready BUT im undecided on which ending i want for this, so yall get chapter 1 as a teaser, let me know whatcha think :eyes:

a/n²: this is the start of a long fic (my first one, phew)! i intend to update it weekly-ish, i GREATLY appreciate comments as it helps me test the waters on whats to come with it

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I like (I like) what you like (what you like) Long hair (no bra) that's my type (that's right) You just told me, want me to fuck you Baby, I will 'cause I really want to

-

The ascension was complete. He actually went through with it. 7000 souls, gone. 

Astarion, The Vampire Ascendant.

He convinced you that it’s what was necessary. You thought this would bring him peace. It’s what he wanted. You loved him, and you would’ve gone to the ends of the world for him; in your eyes, after everything he'd been through, it's what he deserved.

“I can hear it at last, how all the lowly creatures of this plane are begging to serve.”

But now that it was done, you couldn’t tell if he was still him. If the vampire before you was still the same you spent that first night in the woods. That same one who admitted to have fallen for you. The same one who thanked you for taking a stand against Araj at Moonrise Towers. And if he wasn’t, who was he now? Did he have anything left from his previous self? And could you still love him if he didn’t?

"The world will stir in fear."

The walk back to camp that day was dreary. As Astarion walked ahead of everyone with his newfound confidence, you were dragging your feet behind the rest of your party. The weight of what you had done, slowly setting in. Your friends asked about your well-being and you reassured them all that everything’s fine! It was just a big day! And you simply couldn’t wait to finally rest. You didn’t have the heart to admit that you were regretting what you had encouraged Astarion to do.

Back at the Elfsong, you wave to your companions an early good night as you are heading to bed, before Astarion pulls you aside.

“My consort, we are so close to our triumph, I can almost taste it.” Even his tone was different. What you used to qualify as theatrical was now leaning towards dramatical.

You freeze and look at him dead in his eyes. Every part of you is looking for any proof at all that he was still himself. After all, you had no way to know if the 7007 souls sacrificed also included his own.

“I think we need to talk,” your voice comes out colder than intended.

“Little love, whatever could be the matter?”

“Just– what in the Hells happened to you in there?” The words come out of their own, tainted with sadness.

“It's quite simple, really: I became a better version of myself. The very best, dare I say. And I have no one else but you to thank for it.”

You cross your arms and evade his eyes, your shame for your actions creeping up on you. “I don’t feel great about it, honestly.”

“Well, what’s done is done, and there’s simply no point in dwelling on the past, is there?”

His disdain for the enormous sacrifice that was made makes you scoff, incredulous. “You’re nothing like the Astarion I knew before.”

“I know. I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Finally free of my past.” He smiles, satisfied. “I’m who I always wanted to be. I have everything I ever wanted, except you, by my side.”

His hand reaches out to you and you quickly understand the offer he’s making: to make you a spawn, his spawn. The whole situation is bittersweet to you; of course you’ve always wanted what he wanted, what was best for him, and you would've spent your lifetime with him in another context, but with how he turned out following the ascension, this future isn't something you can imagine yourself in. Now that this choice is given to you, you know better than to accept. 

You shake your head as you step back, “No… I won’t do it.”

He sighs, dropping his hand to his side, “Seems I misjudged you. I thought we might have a future together, eternity, even. Perhaps you’re not worthy.”

His condescending tone sparks a fury within you. “We’ll defeat the elder brain together. But after that, I want nothing to do with you,” you say as you try to contain the anger rising in your chest. His brows furrow, matching your energy. “So be it. You will regret leaving me, more than anything you live to regret.”

You give him one last angry look before walking to your bed, muttering to yourself as you feel tears swelling up. 

“I regret letting you go through with that damned ritual.”

—

You follow through with your promise. With the Netherbrain gone and your tadpoles vanished, nothing kept you together anymore. You parted ways with all your companions, going out on your own, wherever your next adventure guided you. Finally, a normal life, or something closer to it, anyway. You did miss most of them, for what it’s worth; you considered them your family. You often wondered how Wyll and Karlach were faring in the Hells, and how Lae’zel’s quest to take down Vlaakith was going; you even considered offering your help at one point, but after ending things with Astarion, you needed to be alone. The breakup hit you harder than you expected, it left your heart with a void. He looked happy following his ascension, so why couldn’t you be happy for him? Why was this so hard on you? It’s not something you had ever experienced in your past relationships, usually able to move to the next one rather quickly. You didn’t naturally get attached to people, you used to think that nothing lasts forever, and relationships weren’t an exception. This damned vampire proved to you once again that you were right, although you wished for once you weren’t. He took up all your thoughts, and you had to do something to wash him away.

You occupied your time best by helping people in need, taking bounties left and right, roaming the lands and fighting monsters. When you could afford it, you’d spend the night at the local inn, drinking to numb the feelings. On nights when you were most drunk, you ended up sharing someone else's bed, whoever proposed it to you on those nights. With the alcohol in your veins and your eyes closed, your mind let you believe that you were in his arms again. That it was all a bad dream, and you would wake up next to him, only to be hit by the harsh reality the next morning.

You did anything that you thought would help keep your mind busy. It did work for some time; as long as you were actively doing something – focused on the task at hand – you didn’t think about the past, but the moment night fell and you laid to rest alone, you were back at square one. 

You felt guilty about Astarion’s ascension. Guilty of the impact it had on him and your relationship, guilty of the power you let him have and the consequences that it meant. Even guilty of how you felt about it; it was a vicious cycle that plagued you.

It had been your one and only mistake. You let yourself be blinded by the rose-coloured glasses of your love for him, and although you meant well, you’re very conscious of the damage this decision had on him and potentially the city, but also the 7000 souls sacrificed in the process. Granted, they were already spawns and there was no way to save them from this fate, they could’ve at least have had a chance at living in the Underdark. Yes, you had saved the city – damages aside – lifted a curse, freed everyone and yourself from the Absolute, defeated the chosens of the Dead Three, bla bla bla, but your mind always drifted to Astarion’s fate. What if you had stopped him? Surely, your life would be different now. You would be roaming the streets with him, probably. Maybe living together in the Underdark. He would’ve stayed himself. You would’ve been… happier.

When you receive Withers’ invitation to the reunion, it’s the first time in months you’re actually happy, excited even, to see your friends at long last, but also anxious. Your mind drifts to the vampire you used to love. Would you see him at the reunion? Would he have changed at all? How has he been?

Did he still think about you, too?

Looking forward to the night, you treat yourself out to a nice outfit from the local seamstress. You settle on a simple, yet elegant, black long dress with an open back. The summer night is nice and fresh; you’re glad you went for a long sleeved dress. Your hair, which you decided to let down, also partially covers your exposed back, covering you from the breeze. You reach your old campsite to find out you’re the last to arrive, as you see all your friends already mingling. You decide to talk to Shadowheart first, as she was the one you missed the most, as you had grown particularly closer to her during your adventure. In another life, you would’ve been together, you think. You felt bad about not contacting her sooner, but her joy upon seeing you washes away all guilt. She greets you with a smile and a large embrace.

“Come here you! Gods, I missed you!”

You hold her tight, enjoying her strong hug. 

“Tell me everything! How have you been?”

“Oh you know, a few killings here and there, little shenanigans all around, I’m sure whatever you have to share is much more interesting.” You wish you could say something different, but your adventures really had been that bland. 

She rolls her eyes playfully at your deflection, “And how have you been feeling?”

“Greaaat, every day is a new adventure for me to discover.” You give a poor excuse for a laugh as an attempt to convince her.

She tilts her head forward and raises her eyebrow at you. She knew you better than you gave her credit for. “You know what I meant.” Her gaze points to the side behind you and you give a quick glance to see Astarion disdainfully looking at his surroundings, a silver cup in hand.

You sigh as you turn back to her, the facade falling at once. “I try not to think about it. I… hated what he became, and felt guilty about it. I did take part in it, I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t.” You cross your arms, recollecting your thoughts. “But I’m starting to think that maybe I jumped to conclusions too quickly when I left him. I miss him and it’s… frustrating. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Seeing him again so soon is more difficult than I originally thought.”

“Did you talk to him?” “I was actually trying to avoid him,” you confess.

“And you think that's healthy?” “It's the only way I'll be able to move on.”

“And how’s that been going?”

“I–” You’re unable to answer her, the truth being that it was going horribly.

She grabs you by your shoulders, bringing your attention back to her, “Hey, you know if you need anything, I’ll be there for you.” You smile, sheepishly, as she brushes your hair behind your ear, softly cupping your cheek. “And if you’re looking for some company to take your mind off of a certain vampire, well, I would be glad to offer mine.” You get lost in her eyes, with her hand soft and warm against your skin. Her invitation is tempting, and your gaze falls on her lips as you speak up.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Come meet me when the party's over.” She smiles back, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. 

You spend the rest of the night catching up with all your friends, always keeping an eye on Astarion, who you notice has been eyeing you as well, as if he was expecting you to approach him, but you never do. You’re convinced nothing good will come out of it and even if you did talk, you’re not sure where you would even begin, so you keep your distance.

As the night settles down, you bid your close friends farewell and sneak out two bottles of wine to share with Shadowheart as she walks you to the inn she’d been staying at. The road is peaceful, and you reminisce about the past with the cleric, indulging in the leftover drinks you stole from the party. When you finally reach the inn, you're both a giggling and stumbling mess, empty bottles of wine still in hand as you enter her room.

As she closes the door behind her, you hear some patrons through the walls yell at you to shut up – it was late and your entrance had been pretty noisy – and you mockingly hush your friend, pressing a finger on her lips.

“Shadoooow, shhhhh” you whisper, your speech slurred. “You’re bothering people.”

“Oh, I’m bothering people? Care to remind me who stumbled their way up the stairs?” She says, laughing, her cheeks blushed by the alcohol.

“Hey– it’s not my fault their steps are so high and your room is so far,” you pout.

“Oh, my apologies,” she takes on a chivalrous tone. “Does my lady require assistance to reach her bed for the night?” 

You answer, matching her tone. “That would be most welcome, dearest.”

You squeal as she picks you up in her arms with an impressive strength, and carries you to the large bed. You giggle when she drops you off, and she leans over you.

“Is my lady satisfied with my service?”

You fail to keep a straight face when you answer. “Most definitely. Thank you, my liege.”

She smiles back softly before crashing next to you, both of you staring at the ceiling, taking in the first moment of silence of your night. A second later and your mind is already thinking about Astarion and you sigh heavily. Your companion instantly notices your change of mood.

“It’s him again, isn't it?”

You groan, grabbing your hair in frustration. “Was I wrong? To let him go through with that damn ritual? Why does he get to live his best life and I’m still feeling awful abo–”

She cups your cheek and pulls your face close to hers, cutting you off with a kiss. 

“How about we get to work on ‘forgetting about him’, hm?”

You nod slightly as you stare into her eyes, and she grins, her hand curling around your neck before crashing her lips against yours once again. You moan into the kiss, feeling the heat spread across your face and to your chest. Her kisses travel from your jaw down to your neck. She pulls your dress down, gradually exposing your flushed chest, before pulling back to take a good look at you, her own face matching your colour.

“You blush so beautifully.” Her voice is soft like velvet, each word making your heart pounce, as she continues to kiss her way down your navel, eventually discarding your dress on the floor.

You hide your face between your hands, trying to conceal the warmth coming from your cheeks and she comes back up to take your hands in hers, revealing your flustered state.

“You’re too pretty to hide yourself like that,” she reassures you with another kiss. “Let me admire you.”

You struggle to keep eye contact as one of her hands makes its way between your legs, teasing your entrance. Her fingers slide easily between your folds, earning her a moan out of you. She finds your clit and rubs you softly, your entire body twitching in reaction to her touch, and you shut your eyes to focus on the feeling, throwing your head back. Shadowheart takes this chance to trace the curve of your breast with her tongue, closing her mouth on its peak and sucking over it. Her tongue works wonders on you, and you whimper as she lightly bites you. 

“Keep singing for me,” She says between kisses, her voice thick with lust. “I love the sound of your voice.”

Her name on your lips is like a prayer as she ravishes your breast, leaving a few love bites over your chest. She pulls back temporarily to remove her own clothing before climbing back in bed, resting between your legs. You barely manage to raise yourself up when she pushes you back down against the bed.

“Lay down love, and let me take care of you. Just the way you deserve it.”

She throws your legs over her shoulders and kisses the inside of your thighs, leaving more love bites and she makes her way to your cunt. Her tongue finally finds its way between your folds and she laps at your juices, making sure to lick you clean.

“Gods, you taste divine.”

Her hands dig in your thighs as she devours you and you arch your back at the sensation, taking in the feeling of her tongue entering you. Your hips soon follow the movement, wanting more contact, and she takes the hint, moving to your clit to give it the attention it deserves. You whine when she enters you with a finger, and a second one, slowly thrusting into you, as her tongue circles your sensitive bud. Your chest rises higher and faster as your breathing quickens, and she knows you're close. Your eyes are long gone, but she looks up to you, admiring your state before she speaks up.

“Let it go, love. Come for me.”

She sucks once more on your clit, her fingers pushing harder against that sweet spot inside of you. You throw your head back, grabbing the bed sheets at your sides as you scream her name with the remaining air in your lungs and a crashing wave of sensations washes over you. For a moment, your mind goes blank, there's nothing but pure bliss. You want to stay like this forever; finally at peace, content. As you come down from your high, your legs give out and you pant excessively, trying to catch your breath.

You feel the bed shift beside you and open your eyes to see Shadowheart lazily making her way next to you.

“But– what about you?” you ask, breathless and tired.

“You don’t think I enjoyed myself just now?” She laughs and kisses you. “You’re simply adorable.” She cups your cheek lovingly, brushing your hair away. 

“Tonight was all about you. Plus, I doubt you'd be able to accomplish anything in the state you're in. You can always make it up to me another night,” she grins and boops your nose, smiling tenderly, before snuggling against you.

You watch her as she drifts to sleep next to you, moments before you cave into your own exhaustion. For the first time in months, you get a good, restful night of sleep.

When morning comes, you’re awakened by a god-awful headache, the consequences of last night’s drinking catching up to you. On the bright side, you find Shadowheart wrapped around you from behind, with her face nuzzled in your neck. You smile and hold on to her arm around your waist, linking your fingers with hers. She awakens soon after and greets you with kisses on your shoulder. You turn around to properly kiss her good morning, but the pain throbbing in your head has you groaning and holding your head instead. She catches on quickly and casts lesser restoration on you, fixing your headache instantly.

“Thank you, doc.” You sigh, content, and turn your head to face her. “How will I ever repay you?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something.”

“Mmh, I might have an idea.”

“Oh?” She chuckles. “Colour me intrigued.”

You flip yourself above her, pinning her down before kissing her lovingly. When you pull away, you find her looking at you with the same lust she had for you the night prior. Her eyes fall on your lips before she speaks again.

“You should follow me on my next adventure. I think it would help you clear things up.”

You pull back, now sitting on her, as you take a moment to answer. “I have a few errands to run, but I might take you up on that offer.”

“I still have the room for a tenday,” she raises herself up on her elbows and gives you a pensive look before continuing her thought. “Let me know when you make up your mind.”

You get dressed up and kiss her goodbye, eager to go back to your own inn to get changed and take a much deserved bath. Since the room you had rented was yours for a few days, you might as well take the chance to shop around while you were there; you were in dire need of new equipment for your next adventures. You spend those days getting upgrades for your gear, and visiting the city. Day after day, something felt odd; you had the weird feeling that you were being watched. Every time, nothing would happen, and neither did you see anyone suspicious, but the feeling never left. One night, as you were making your way to your inn, that feeling only got stronger. The streets weren’t busy per say, but everyone you could see was minding their business, discussing amongst themselves. You pressed ahead to reach the inn faster; maybe it was all in your head, but just in case your intuition was right, you didn’t want to take any chances.

As you turn the corner to take a shortcut in a back alley, two figures block your path. In the dark of the night, you can’t make out their identities, but their threatening auras are enough to make you back away. You bump into two more imposing shadows, somehow having managed to sneak up behind you, who quickly grab your arms before you can think of escaping. You try to fight against them but their combined forces pin you down almost completely. You were strong, you shouldn’t have had any issue fighting them off, but their strength almost felt… surnatural. If you had learned one thing during your misadventures, it was that when brute strength wasn't an option, you had to aim for their egos.

“Come on, four against one? How's that fair? Are you so weak that you can't face me alone? Let me get the chance to fuck you up, one after the other.” You smile cheekily, your blood running hot, ready for a fight. Karlach would be proud.

The bandits remain unphased by your taunting, with only one of them answering to your banter.

“We won't fight you. Our Master requested that you be brought alive.”

“Aw, poor lil pup can’t do anything without its master's permission,” you say, mocking them, and you laugh disdainfully at them. “You’re fucking pathetic.” 

The figure moves towards you and you’re slapped with a strength that would’ve made you fall to your knees, had you not been held by the two other goons.

“ENOUGH!” Another figure speaks up. “Remember the Master mentioned that she be left unharmed.”

You lift your head back up, your breathing ragged by your furor. “How about you bring me to that master of yours so I can show him who he’s messing with?”

You wish you could take back your words as another figure appears, stepping out from the shadows, this one all too familiar.

“Hello, my sweet.”

-

I bet they planned it all out like the shows Went everywhere I go Walked in the store right behind me Stood in line right beside me and followed me to my home I'm sure they figured it out early on That I would never run That they could shoot, but that's no fun 'Cause then they're killing the stolen son, oh

[rainy-writers]

When are y’all gonna get it through your heads that no one actually cared if the Velaryon boys were bastards or not? They could have come out with white hair, violet eyes, the whole shebang and the rumor still would have been spread because it was meant to undermine RHAENYRA and her claim, nothing else!!

It was a misogynistic attempt to paint her as reckless and irresponsible and another way for the greens to push for Aegon. It was fear mongering, meant to say “Hey! Choose Aegon because you guys don’t want a bastard on the throne, right?” And it didn’t fucking work, save for on the idiot audience that still eats this shit up and genuinely believes that the dance happened bc Harwin and Rhaenyra weren’t married, rather than realizing the whole theme is MISOGYNY!! ITS ABOUT USURPING A WOMAN NO MATTER WHAT SHE DOES, SOLEY BC SHES A WOMAN AND NOTHING ELSE!!

If she had no kids = Vote for Aegon cause she’s barren!!

If she had kids = Vote for Aegon cause they’re bastards!!

If she has kids that look exactly like her = Vote for Aegon bc her kids are clearly Daemon’s bastards am I right? Vote Aegon bc he’s clearly the more responsible of the two with his trueborn kids!!

It. Does. Not. Matter.

And it makes me so mad, especially when people say that the realm wouldn’t have accepted Jace like DUDE. Nobody is just casually going around saying these kids are bastards, save for the people that KNOW they can get away with it if they’re caught bc Viserys wouldn’t dare punish them. Aka:

Alicent, Otto, and her nightmare kids. That’s it. No, some random Lord in the Reach wasn’t preaching about Jace, Luke, and Joff being bastards. I sincerely hate to burst your bubble (NOT!) but you guys as an audience care more than the actual people that live in this world and it’s so funny.

Basic media literacy will tell you that NO, Westeros did not care. How do I know? Well it’s simple really. If they cared then majority of them simply wouldn’t pledge to support Rhaenyra, clearly knowing that Jace is her heir??

I mean, these are all of the houses that supported Rhaenyra AND Jace:

I mean do yall honestly think Cregan Stark thought Jace was a bastard when he swore an oath in BLOOD with Jace, marched PERSONALLY to the south AFTER Jace was dead, and tried to literally kill the CHILDREN of the Lord’s who rose up against him and Rhaenyra?

Do you think Lady Jeyne gaf when she personally pledged to support him? Lord Manderly? Hm.

No, they didn’t lmao.

So please, kill this narrative that “There was going to be rebellion if Jace ascended the throne” and “The realm wouldn’t accept him bc all of them secretly knew he was a bastard despite having no proof because his father, his grandfather and THEIR KING never said otherwise.”

It would not have happened y’all. And one day you blood purist, Velaryon boys haters are going to get it through your head that YES !! They were legitimate because no one ever said otherwise. It was never proven. Rumor isn’t proof. Hair isn’t proof for fucks sake. You need actual words from Laenor himself saying that RHAENYRA cheated and those boys are Harwin’s. You need Corlys passing over Luke for Driftmark and outright saying it’s because he’s a bastard to even get a SHREAD of doubt from the great houses.

One day you guys are going to realize that those boys were loved and no matter how much you try and discredit them, they will always be legitimate. Whether you like it or not, Viserys was content with Jace being on the throne after him, THE REALM was content, and Corlys Velaryon was ready to die peacefully knowing Luke was going to be after him. Hell, he damn near handed that boy the keys so don’t you dare say Luke didn’t deserve to inherit anything.

And sorry for the long post but some of yall are really starting to piss me off. Never mind that this is fiction, your attitude towards these boys is disguising and saying that they don’t deserve a good life, that they dont deserve things that were literally GIVEN to them with no complaints, and even going as far as to call them dirty or saying they deserve to die all because their mommy and daddy weren’t married is fucking disgusting.

This “bastards don’t deserve anything,” attitude needs to stop being preached by real life people. Hell, some of the people saying this are literally in the wedding photos of their own parents wedding LMAO. It concerns me on how much disregard you guys have for adopted kids (which is basically what they are to Laenor), and I’d hate to see the shit you preach in real life. Acting like blood actually matters in order for someone to be considered family.

Because regardless of what you believe, had their mother not been usurped because she was a WOMAN, Jace would have ruled, Luke would’ve gotten Driftmark and, yes, the world of Westeros would’ve kept fucking spinning.

By law these boys were legitimate and people seem to forget they came out of Rhaenyra’s coochie so REGARDLESS, they are Targaryen. Like unless Viserys or Daemon was their father, they were always going to be half NOT Targaryen lol…Just like Alicent’s kids. It just so happens that they’re half Strong, but again, it doesn’t matter, because Jace gets his claim from RHAENYRA, not his father, so even if Harwin was married to Rhaenyra he still would’ve been the heir?? Even if it wasn’t Laenor who was his father, he’d still be heir because of his mother and being married to someone does not change that.

Some people even go as far as to argue that they’re not Targaryen so Jace shouldn’t be the heir which is stupidest thing I’ve ever heard and the most blatant case of misogyny ever. Like unless your father cloned himself then you STILL get half your genes from your mother dumbass. They are as much Targaryen as the Hightower kids with their DARK HARIED PARENT, it just so happens that their Targ side is from a woman, not a man. Which, like I said, if you don’t consider them Targaryen just bc they don’t get their claim from their father then we know what you are. 🙃

But anyways, to make a long post short, yes these boys are legitimate, they were recognized as such by:

The King himself (who they’d be inheriting from)

Rhaenyra

Laenor (their father, who they’d be inheriting from and wanted Luke to have Driftmark)

Corlys (their grandfather, who Luke would be inheriting from and wanted Luke to have Driftmark)

Rhaenys

The Realm

History

And if you still don’t believe me, here’s the official Targaryen family tree from Fire and Blood which all of Westeros sees :)

You see how they’re listed as Velaryon? You see how they’re directly linked to Laenor and there’s no little astric saying how they’re bastards? Yeah me too.

PS - Read Fire and Blood as well. This whole argument about them being bastards is literally stemmed from no more than two paragraphs, IF that. And their legitimacy is never brought up again.

[johnbrand]

Smoking Pays

With @aismoker

What? Can’t you see I’m in a rush?

Oh so you heard about the promotion. Yeah it was no surprise really, anyone could have predicted it.

Sure I have only been here for a year, but I came in with the qualities the boss was looking for. 

Honestly, I am a bit embarrassed for you. You’ve been around since what, when the company started? And after all that time you’re still some boring office drone, while I am quickly ascending the ranks.

What’s my secret? No, I didn't bribe the boss to get this position. And before you say it, I didn’t blackmail him either. I just did my research beforehand, I figured out what would help me and the boss click on a more personal level.

Smoking obviously. Speaking of which, you’ve held me up long enough that I have to light up another one. Yeah, this is my third this morning , and I’ll probably chain my way through a pack tonight. I'll likely have some coughing ahead but there’s no better way to subdue the hacking with many more reds. 

How long have I been smoking? Hmm...I guess a little over a year. When I applied for this company I picked it up, thinking it would give my resume that extra push. And boy was I right! When the boss first met me and noticed my carefully placed pack of Marlboros, he ushered me directly to HR for an immediate hire. Said I was “the type of man the office needs.” And now look at me, making six figures and not even 30!

I don’t know what smear campaign you are referring to, but I have not made any sacrifices since I picked up smoking. In fact, I would say I have only benefited from it. The smoking areas in the office are full of real men, dedicated to becoming the best version of themselves. I’m talking mentally and physically, sculpting their minds into commanding personas and their bodies into perfect shape. It was inspiring, and once you get used to all the smoke, the cravings ignite you even further.

I mean look at me. I’m in the best shape I have been in in my life. Super athletic and toned, eventually the muscle will start piling on. My voice is already lower and grittier than it was a year ago, demanding an actual presence. And sure, my hair is thinning but bald men are the true alphas! Once I’ve gone full cueball like the boss, that’s when I’ll start growing out my beard.

And as I continue this transformation, allowing smoking to shape and define me, the higher-ups will notice. The boss will notice. They may not directly see it, but subconsciously it will register. Who better to take his place than him, or at least, a copy of him? In this day and age, smoking is associated with masculinity and success.

You think I’m joking? Look at the people passing us right now. They aren’t looking at two businessmen having a conversation on the sidewalk. No, they are checking out the successful, suited stud with the Marlboro at his lips. Their eyes are gleaming with awe and wonder at the man radiating achievement and supremacy. And their minds simply disregard you, erase your existence through nicotine-fueled admiration and lust.

Look, I really gotta go. I cannot be late to my first meeting as a project lead. I’m working on that new defamation push against vaping. Our main tagline is that vaping shrinks penises. Is it even true? Well I can’t say that, but I can tell you something: smoking certainly does the opposite. Heheh…that was an improvement I had not expected to happen. So technically, it's not false as long as we compare the two.

Alright, seriously, I’ll talk to you later. Or probably not honestly, unless you decide to be a real man and do something with your life. Here, I’m about halfway through this Marlboro, so you can finish it off and I’ll light up a new one for the rest of my walk. Smoking pays, man, smoking pays.

[noisycroissant]

Meus Amor (Part 2)

Read part 1 here

SoftDom! Ascended Astarion x Reader

"The Master has sent a note, my lady," the servant girl says holding out a folded piece of parchment, "He informs that he will be joining you an hour after dusk."

You wait for her to leave before you open the note. As you open it, your heartbeat goes up a notch as you take in the two words written in Astarion's slanting handwriting:

Meus amor

It had been a week since you'd agreed to wear the circlet he'd made for you; and you hadn't seen him since. He'd been away, travelling to find some rare tome, one of those journeys you don't make together.

But he's back.

An hour after dusk...

*******

You hear him enter the chamber, the heavy door closing with a loud thud.

"My darling, you would not believe the kind of journey I've had. I honestly believe I can no longer slum it on the road like we used to all those years back," he says, his voice getting closer and closer to your canopied bed.

He draws the canopy's curtains open and the soft candlelight illuminates you.

Bare and kneeling in the centre of the bed with only the circlet on, firelight glinting off the locket.

You look up through your lashes, body growing warm as you feel Astarion's eyes take you in. A beat passes, then two, you were ready to combust from embarrassment when Astarion says in a low voice, "You're always so perfect for me, my love."

You smile, still too bashful to look him properly in the eyes. "Were you hiding? I never thought you'd hide from little old me," he feigns dramatically.

"I was just too..."

"Too what?"

"...shy," you admit, finally looking him in the eyes. Your heart beats harder as you see the unbridled lust and hunger in his eyes.

Astarion lifts your face upto his, his lips a breath away from yours, "I swear you will drive me to lunacy, and I'll thank you for it." He gently licks the seam of your lips, coaxing you to open up. His kiss is hungry and depraved, you feel the longing in his heart and the restraint he's using to hold himself back.

"Turn around for me, love."

You do as told and face away from him. He moves your hair over to one shoulder and gently kisses up and over your shoulder, moving to your neck, before gently tugging the lobe of your ear.

You feel your skin tingle. "Do you have any idea what I can sense right now?" Astarion whispers to you, "Your heart is rocketing to the sky, I can smell your blood heating with desire, and I can almost taste the sweetness you have hidden between your legs."

You gasp at the words, desire tightening the coil in your belly. He moves to cup your breasts and toys with your nipples, pinching and rolling them to the point of sweet pain. As you loll your head back to his chest, he moves and kisses you again. All tongue and teeth, you hear him groan as you move your ass slowly over his erection.

His hand leaves and snakes it way down between your thighs, finding you embarrassingly drenched. He simply slides his fingers between your folds and plays with your clit. You moan and toss your head back, but he holds you tightly to his body while he continues to rub circles faster and faster at your clit.

The sounds of your wetness and the soft clinking of the locket fill the chamber.

"Give in to me, my love," Astarion says, pressing kisses into your hair, "Give in, sweet girl."

Your pleasure crests over and you go stiff in his arms as you cum around his fingers. He holds you till you get your breath back and slowly moves you onto your back.

"Look at you. Such a vision. My vision," he says taking in your wild hair, flushed cheeks, and soft pants.

"Astarion, please ... I need you. I've missed you so," you plead.

"Where do you need me, my amor? Tell me. I need to hear you say it."

You spread your legs and gently part yourself, slick sticking to the lips, "Here. Inside me. Please Astarion, I need you so badly."

Like a man possessed, Astarion wordlessly moves to push his cock into you. Both of you groan in ecstasy as he stretches you out, pushing himself to the hilt.

His eyes never leave yours the entire time.

He lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, opening you up, and starts moving deep inside you.

You are lost to the pleasure. You can feel his cock deep inside you, stretching and filling you up.

"You're always so good to me, my precious. My good girl," he tells you as he pumps into you, "The sweetest thing I've ever had. I'm never ever letting you go."

He pulls out abruptly and your pussy gapes at the loss. Quickly moving you onto your chest, he enters you again, groaning at the way you take him.

"Missed you so fucking much. Must have been mad to leave behind such a good girl," he mutters to himself as he thrusts into you.

"Astarion, please ...please let me cum..please I need to cum so bad," you cry out, tears welling up in your eyes.

His body covers yours as he moves your head to access your neck. He gives a warning lick to your jugular before his fangs sink into your soft flesh.

Ambrosia. Food of the gods.

No.

No god would ever get to taste what is his.

Primal need takes over as he continues to pound into you while your sweet blood fills his mouth. You cum with a cry, black gathering at the edges of your vision, pussy tightening around his cock.

You hear the locket jingle as it hits against the circlet, a lone metronome in the dim light.

"I'm going to cum, sweetheart. Going to cum so deep inside you," he says, your blood dripping out the corners of his mouth.

You feel him throb inside you as his cum flows into you. His tongue lazily lapping at the stray drops of blood on your neck.

You're so ...tired. Sated. Your bones feel liquid and your heart beats slow and steady.

You hazily see Astarion laying you back against the plush pillows and cleaning you up with warm wash cloths. You feel him pull you to his chest, kissing your hair, whispering how much he loves you.

"I love you too, Astarion, so so much," you mumble as sleep pulls you down finally.

[moonselune]

hiii it's revivify anon again (can I be 🐶anon?)

ahhhh your takes for the male companions reactions are so real!!

as a galemancer myself, I absolutely see him going the god route to bring them back. he's probably spin it as something like, "it was my ambition to bring you back. Therefore, i am allowed" (honestly, I could see him becoming so much darker if he brings back his fallen love. He'd probably keep them in a gilded cage of sorts. Always saying that he has their best interests at heart, that he's better and more reliable than all other gods. That no one, god or mortal, could love you better than him, so you should worship him just as much as he worships you... man... the potential.)

Thinking about astarion losing his love just hurts because like... they came and healed his heart only to shatter it all over again? If it was BEFORE the cazador fight, I think he'd definitely ascend himself. Why worry about losing your soul when you've already lost your heart? If it was after the cazador fight, I think he'd just kick himself for letting you convince him not to do it, and eventually circle back to the idea that he should've ascended. Maybe then, he could've saved you....

Oh, Wyll.... I get what you mean about not wanting to immediately go down that route of trading his soul to another Patron. I think if Mizora caught wind, she'd absolutely taunt him with it. Always hanging around like a bad smell, dangling the chance to bring his love back as long as he signs away his soul in a Pact eternal with her. I think as long as he had his friends around, he would be able to stand firm and remember that his lover would've shattered at the idea of him sacrificing himself. I'm not sure if I'm misreading his character or not, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't take another lover. He'd probably 1) blame himself for the loss of their life, and 2) think he isn't worthy of love again, and 3) probably love them until he dies tbh. He wouldn't want another lover, because they wouldn't be his lost love :'(

DARK HALSIN!!! Girl... your mind.... you are so onto something. I could totally see him going shadow druid tbh. He'd probably stop and be like, "you know what? Maybe they were right. Maybe I should've embraced the shadows. Maybe I still should..." or like, if people venture far enough into the woods, they might come across a corpse perfectly preserved as if theyre just sleeping, reeking of druidic magic. There's tons of plants surrounding the body. Some consider it a holy site, some consider it cursed. But all agree not to linger too long, lest the beast that guards it finds you...

CW: Dark Content

Of course 🐶 nonnie !

Oh my god yes yes yes yes, I have done a galemancy run and it was one of my favourites. The way this man would be like "I am doing nothing wrong" and there's just a pile of bodies behind him because he keeps messing up this necromancy spell that requires a sacrifice. Oh my lord and when it finally works and you are alive, back and well. He is overjoyed and is like my love! You have returned! Don't look at all the blood and bodies, just come this way my love! No the outside world will harm you, my love, just follow me! Look at this room it has all your favourites! Those windows have never opened my love, here's your favourite tea!

And he is NEVER going to let it go that he brought you back- ever. You are his masterpiece, the fruits of all his labor, the perfect embodiment of his ambition. He is your creator, you, the perfect creation. You belong to him. You will watch him ascend and you will take your place below beside him.

Resisting is pointless, you wouldn't want to go back to that cruel afterlife. Maybe if you are being particularly ungrateful, you would like a taste of what he rescued you from? Sending you into a spiral of nightmares until all you can do is cling to him in fear. He strokes your hair as you cry and murmurs how all he did was save you from this and you want to defy him? Hurt him by saying all those cruel words?

Well shit this is gonna end up as a fic isn't it?

YES, pre cazador, definitely would ascend and I can go see him going after people who look like you but as soon as they do/say something that is out of character for you, he just murders them. Justifying it by saying if you don't get to live, then neither do the poor imitations of you.

If he didn't ascend I reckon he would make a deal for him to get some sort of power, as you said, his heart died with you, what does he need a soul for? And then that takes us back to his ascended behaviour.

Oh baby boy Wyll, I agree, I do not think he would take another lover, but he would move on, I can see him becoming Grand Duke and shaping Baldur's Gate into a City that you would have survived in. He would name so many things after you, you liked books? He would build a library in your name? You always said you wanted kids or a big family, he builds an orphanage for you, telling the children stories of you. I think eventually as Wyll gets older and Mizora still tries to tempt him, he eventually enjoys her presence - as every time she tries to lure him into darkness, he can hear his beloved guiding him back to the light, and that he would never give up. Mizora is like wtaf, fine, you will never see me again, and then she's bored and shows up.

Dark Halsin !!! We love you !! He would have such a guilt complex about the shadow druids, how they were right etc. AND YES OMG you read my mind, parents warn their kids not to play too deep into the forest and for those wayward ones they come back, trembling with fear as they say how the beast roared and swiped its sharp paw at them. (Halsin would scare them away, I can never imagine him being violent with kids). But for those trying to prove their strength and valour by rescuing the beautiful maiden - they are never seen again.

Oooooo I cannot wait to sink my teeth into this!

[knight-a3]

Hazbin Sketchbook Tour part 3

Masterpost

I started some preliminary sketches of Charlie to get a feel for her. I wasn't exactly happy with them. I did like how Alastor turned out in the dancing one, just...not the rest of it.

Before going back to Charlie, I had a couple ideas for a Vaggie redesign I wanted to sketch out. She'll go through a few minor tweaks over time, but overall not bad for a first pass. (There's also a stray Emily)

This is when I started seriously redesigning everyone. I would search up other people's redesigns for inspiration, then move on from there.

More design notes under the cut, and a couple fun Bible facts!

Vaggie: First, I doubled down on the moth theming. I wanted it to be more obvious than it is in canon. It also serves to show that Hell is corrupted, and it makes everyone more inhuman. All the angels will look more human, because "Biblically accurate angels" is not actually all that accurate. After she Falls, she becomes more moth-like, and is not truly an angel anymore.

[I've got this whole idea concerning the blood colors of the various groups. Maybe I should make a dedicated post to explain, but here's the rundown: There are three main groups: Hellborn, Earthborn, and Heavenborn. Hellborn have black blood, and Heavenborn have a glowing white. Earthborn have 3 subgroups: Living, Sinner, and Saint(aka winner). While alive, Earthborn have red. After death, the color depends on if they Fall or Ascend. Fallen Earthborn become Sinners and the blood darkens to purple. Ascended Earthborn become Saints and it lightens into golden yellow. When a Saint Falls, it darkens to purple. When a Heavenborn falls, it darkens to orange. Ascended Sinners will gradually lighten to yellow(albeit it won't ever be quite as bright as the other Saints). Hellborn cannot Ascend.]

All that to say that Vaggie does not have pure angel blood anymore. And I'm trying to decide if the Exorcists are Heavenborn or Earthborn. I'm honestly favoring Earthborn right now, since that's what Adam qualifies as.

Even when she gets her wings back, Vaggie's form is still corrupted and they come back as moth wings, to fit her theming. I wanted to get her long hair out of the way of her wings, and figured that since her hair is sorta moth themed anyway, why not make them the same thing. It works cuz...magic. I also really do not like the floating X over her eye, so I made it a broken eye spot instead.

Charlie: I knew I wanted more goat themes. So the ears were an obvious place to start. I also made her ponytail to look like a goat tail. But I saw a few designs that gave her snake hair and I thought it was great. But I didn't want to draw so many and decided to just give her one. Then named him Hugh. Short for Hubris aka Pride. I designed the Morningstar family around the goat and snake themes, where Charlie gets the goat traits from Lucifer, and the Snake traits from Lilith.

Lucifer: Canon Lucifer has way too many different design motifs. The Biblical Devil is associated with snakes and goats, so I wanted to narrow down on those rather than the forbidden fruit(which is never confirmed to be an actual apple, by the way) or ducks. He can still likes duck, but it doesn't go further than that. Since canon Lucifer is not exactly evil like the Biblical version, I decided it would be thematically appropriate to have his Fall turn him into a scapegoat, of sorts. Which would also mean that Lucifer is not the True Devil. The real Evil is the darkness trapped in the abyss(should I call it Abyss?). Lucifer, as a Fallen Angel, actually created Hell to prevent souls from getting lost in the abyss. So as bad as Hell is, it's actually a relatively good thing. Oh, and he lost his wings during his Fall. (Fun facts: the Devil isn't actually called Lucifer in the Bible, that was a translation quirk basically referring to the fall of the Babylonian king. Similarly, the number 666 probably refers to Roman Emperor Nero)

Lilith: Because I committed to Lucifer as a goat, but still wanted to implement the snake theme, I gave it to Lilith. I wanted to give her snake hair, but also maintain the flow of her long hair. So I decided to give her 7 snakes, each to represent one of the deadly sins. The top one represents pride. They're all named, like Charlie's.

Pride=Vani(Vanity), Greed=Ava(Avarice), Lust=Libby(Libido), Envy=Desi(Desire), Gluttony=Tony(Gluttony), Wrath=Irene(Ire), and Sloth=Sloth(...)

Overall, I haven't fully decided what I want to do with Lilith. It would probably help if we had more canon info on her. Is she secretly an antagonist? Or is there something else going on? Regardless, I enjoyed designing her.

I had this whole tangent about the mythological origins of Lilith, and how she's not actually a biblical character at all. It got too long winded so I cut it. But basically, liliths were a type of demon in Middle East/Mesopotamian cultures. Then a satirical Jewish story written in the medieval era made Lilith Adam's first wife, then she ran off with the Great Demon and started having 100 demon babies a day. She had to promise three angels that she wouldn't hurt any human newborns if they had a special amulet. She was associated with seduction and child-killing. She wasn't a feminist figure until the 1970s. She was just evil before that. Read HERE if you want more info about it.

[forlorn-crows]

I absolutely love your writing, the "First Time" MountainDew fic almost put me in a coma, I beg you, I desperately need more of them and if Mountain could edge Dew to hell and back and make him cry and beg and then take care of that little mess he is, I would simply ascend. I would die for gentle giant Montain honestly. Please and thank you, if you decide to write. Also never stop writing okay bye 🖤

im glad you enjoyed that fic, i really liked how that one came out! this prompt was a good distraction for me today and from my WIPs, so thank you for that.

a little bit of water ghoul dew and gentle edging earth boy mount for you.

Mountain speeds his hand over Dew’s leaking cock, swallowing all the sweet little moans huffed into his mouth. He smiles against his lips when he starts bucking against his hand.

“N-no, don’t—Mount, please—”

“Not yet, water lily,” he mutters. “A few more, hm?”

“Uhn,” he whines, reedy and desperate. “Lemme cum, please lemme cum.”

Mountain slows his strokes, thumbing over the slit. Slow and teasing, just enough to make Dew gasp and sob. The hot tears pooling in his eyes spill down already damp cheeks, dropping onto the earth ghoul’s collarbone in little splatters. 

“Mount.”

“Uh uh.” He gives the base of his dick a squeeze. Dew almost howls, even more precum spurting out onto Mountain’s hand before he pulls it away completely. ”Wanna hear more of those pretty noises.”

The water ghoul drops his head onto Mountain’s shoulder, sweaty hair falling over his face. His hips are still stuttering, fretfully chasing a fading release. He grumbles. The bigger ghoul runs a soothing hand over his fluttering spine fins. They’re damp and cool with sweat, fully fluffed in Dew’s worked-up state. The warm touch births goosebumps all over his back, and he sighs at the tingly feeling. 

Mountain places a small kiss to Dew’s temple. “You’re doing so well, darling. So so good for me.”

Dew huffs. “Be better for you if you let me cum,” he mumbles into the earth ghoul’s skin.

“That so?” Mountain pushes back the damped locks of silver hair with gentle fingers, smiling at the streaks of tears and the damp lashes on his drooping eyelids. 

Those same eyes scrunch up as his cock gives another involuntary twitch against his stomach. A pained sound falls from his lips, swollen and red from where he had bitten them to stave off release. 

Mountain signs and nuzzles his nose up and down one of Dew’s horns. Holds him a little tighter. “Always make such pretty sounds,” he says softly. “Could really listen to them all day. Jerk you all slow until you can’t take it anymore, that lovely mouth right against my ear so I can hear everything.” His hands are already roaming again, dipping down to knead at the tiny swell of Dew’s ass.

“Fuck,” Dew hisses. 

“That’s it.” He dips down to ghost his lips over the gills on Dew’s neck. The tiny fins quiver under Mountain’s mouth. Dew lets out a breathy moan and tips his head to give him better access.

“Touch me,” he begs. “Please, I’ll be good, won’t cum, but—hah—your hand, you gotta—” Dew continues his nonsensical babbling, pushing his hips further and further into Mountain’s lap. 

“Yeah? I gotta?” Mountain runs his fingers over the fins on Dew’s hips. Light, teasing. Edging closer and closer to his ruddy cock. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dew clutches the back of Mountain’s neck like he’ll pull away if he doesn’t—though he might just, considering the long afternoon they’ve already had. 

“Yeah?” Mountain dips his tongue into his middle gill just as he palms his tightly draw-up balls, and Dew nearly loses it right there. 

“Lucifersevenhellsfuckingbastard—” The earth ghoul cuts him off by sealing his mouth over the span of his gills and giving a squeeze to the base of his little cock. More of those sweet noises pour from Dew’s mouth unbidden as his big hand works him over once more; short, wet strokes as the water ghoul’s thighs twitch with need. Mountain’s hand wraps around him completely, never leaving an inch of his cock untouched as he strokes.

“You wanna cum, water lily?” Mountain purrs. 

Dew keens, tossing his head back. “Please, oh Mount, please let me cum.”

The earth ghoul polishes the flushed head with his thumb, teasing the foreskin back. “All over my hand?”

“Fuck—yes, let me—”

“You really can’t hold it in? One more time? You said you would.” His voice is honey-sweet, but his actions are anything but. 

“No, nonono.” Dew cants his hips into his hand, close to the edge just as quickly as he was ripped away from it. 

“You’re sure, darling? Want me to give it to you?” Every movement of his lips teases the fins on his gills. The shivers down his spine are relentless, making his cock kick with every wave—and every wave brings him closer to desperation, closer to the point of no return. The way Mountain strokes him certainly doesn’t help him any. 

"Yes—uh—please."

Mountain hums, the end of it leaning more towards a moan. If Dew wasn’t two seconds to busting, he’d notice the shaky inhale, the heaving of his chest that follows. “You always beg so sweetly for me. How can I resist?”

“Fuck,” Dew cries, tears spilling over once more. “Close. Tell me—tell me I can.”

“Go on,” the earth ghoul whispers. “Cum for me, water lily.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Dew’s arching into his hand, sobbing his name as he spills all over his knuckles, even splattering a little onto his own stomach. Mountain just holds him, groaning as some of the milky fluid dribbles onto the bulge in his pants. Later, he thinks. 

Dew collapses into him, chest heaving, arms wrapping feebly around the bigger ghoul. He tucks his face into Mountain’s neck, huffing hot, humid breath onto his skin. The earth ghoul rocks him gently. Whispers tiny words of praise into his silver hair. Ignores the way his ass slots perfectly over his crotch. 

Later.

[thechaoticdruid]

The Bite Scene

Pairing: Named F!Tav x Astarion

Notes: Felt bad about not posting a fic in a while and had this old draft lying around so I thought I'd share it with everyone. Before actually posting anything on Tumblr I was working on a long fic about my Tav, Winnie but eventually I ended up abandoning it because I got frustrated feeling like I was rewriting most of the in game dialogue and also ended up getting focused on The Spawn Vs The Ascendant. So basically this is a rewrite of the bite scene with Winnie!

C/w: Blood, blood drinking, suggestive content

That night Winnie tossed and turned on her bedroll, sweat beads dripping down her forehead as her mind raced with memories of horror and death. Terrified faces of people she once knew were etched into the back of her head. Then suddenly she awoke in a pant, barely having enough time to compose herself before a new threat made itself known.  A figure stood over her, red eyes glowing in the dark. 

“Astarion?” A look of shock spread across her face as she glanced up to see her rogue companion, his mouth wide open and a pair of long pointed fangs were clear as day. It all made sense now. Astarion was a vampire!

“Shit……” Astarion backed up as he noticed Winnie was now wide awake.  “It’s not what it looks like I swear! I wasn't going to hurt you! I just needed….Well blood….” 

“Well that explains why you murdered the hunter.” Winnie narrowed her eyes at him slightly, “I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner, gods I feel so stupid.” The red eyes, the pale skin, all the hungry stares, it all made sense. Hells they had even found a dead boar a day earlier with holes in its neck! Winnie honestly felt like a fool for not noticing those teeth on day one!

“It's not what you think! I'm not some monster. I feed on animals, boars, deer, kobolds, whatever I can get, but it's not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak. If I just had a little blood I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.” Astarion looked into Winnie’s eyes with such a sad, pitiful look. 

Is….a vampire literally giving me puppy dog eyes as he asks to drink my blood?

“You could have told me about this.”  Winnie frowned. Despite everything the druid still wanted to trust her companion. She had grown fond of him even if he was an asshole. He was clever and witty and gods damn it was so hard to find someone who appreciated her dark sense of humor instead of just backing away slowly.

“Honestly I didn't think you'd take it too well. At worst I was expecting you'd ram a stake through my ribs.”

“Oh no I would never do that. I'd decapitate you. I'm nothing if not accommodating.” The human female gave a playful smirk. 

“Ah….How thoughtful of you…” Astarion said with a nervous laugh. 

“Luckily I trust you but I wish you'd trust me as well. We do need each other after all.” Winnie stood up, crossing her arms. The vampire blinked in confusion. The druid's response was pleasantly unexpected. A small smile spread across her silver haired companion’s face.

“I do trust you. And you're right we need each other. I need you alive and you need me strong. And there is no better way to keep me strong than to make sure I'm well fed.” 

“My blood isn't something I can just give away carelessly. I kinda need it, you know…” Winnie looked off to the side, a little unsure. Accepting that your companion is actually an undead creature of the night is one thing, but letting him drink your blood was a big risk. Winnie trusted him not to harm her on purpose but she knew well enough vampires couldn’t always control their hunger and a starving vampire would surely prove even more unpredictable.

“I'll only need a taste. I swear.” The tone of his voice sounded soft, almost sweet as he looked at her with round pleading eyes. Winnie bit her lip and her heart sank a little. Gods damn him and his stupid pretty face. 

“Fine, but don't go too far.” Winnie said.

“Of course, I shall only take as much as I need.” Astarion grinned, red eyes trailing over Winnie’s neck. “Let's make ourselves comfortable shall we?” Winnie before laying back down on her bedroll. A shiver went down her spine as he slowly knelt over her, eyes filled with hunger. 

A cool palm cupped the druid's cheek, tilting her head up and exposing her neck. Astarion's mouth watered at the sight, his tongue flicking over his fangs as he leaned in closer.  

Winnie closed her eyes and braced herself, her body shaking with a mix of fear and excitement. 

She waited anxious for what felt like hours before finally a sharp icy pain pierced through her neck.

“A-Ah…” A soft cry of pain left her lips as his fangs sunk into her flesh. Winnie’s left hand gripped onto his shoulder, her teeth gritting until eventually the initial pain subsided, replaced by numbness. The druid's heart was racing and the only thing she was able to process was the sound of sucking. She felt very conflicted, despite the pain she'd been enduring she also felt this pleasant feeling. An intimate feeling. Almost as if he was merely kissing her neck instead of feasting on her very life force.

Astarion was swept up in the moment. Her blood was absolutely intoxicating, so sweet and rich. The vampire had never tasted anything like it. It was pure ecstacy. So wonderful. Gods, he never wanted this perfect moment to end. 

“S-Stop…..” Winnie spoke up, she was beginning to feel dizzy. Astarion however seemed lost in bliss and continued his onslaught on her neck. “That's enough!” She said sternly, mustering what strength she had to grab hold of the back of his head and yank hard on his hair.

“Hmm!?” Finally the druid was able to get his attention. He pulled back with a gulp, “oh…o-of course.” Breathy pants left his lips as he savored the taste of her blood. “That…..That was amazing..”He breathed, eyes dazed as he ran a finger over the blood trailing down his chin, collecting some and sucking it eagerly off his digit. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong…Happy…”He let out a bliss filled sigh.

“Well I'm glad I could help…..Ugh…” Winnie groaned, feeling her head spin. “Hopefully you'll be in a better state to fight soon then?”

“Shouldn't take long now, so many people need killing. Now if you'll excuse me, you're invigorating but I need something a little more filling.” Astarion glanced back at the human with a sly smirk before stepping off to walk off into the dark. “This is a gift you know, I won't forget it.”

The druid could barely sit up as she watched him stalk off into the night seeking his prey. As his form faded from her vision so did everything around her. Darkness taking her in it's sweet embrace.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: I had another part written that takes place just before this. If you'd like to see it posted let me know!

[owlespresso]

bedtime stories IV. luocha. I honestly don't know how to tag this. This one kind of got away from me. There are a lot of darker undertones here and a lot of it is left ambiguous, for you to interpret and figure out. It's different from the really fluffy tone of the others.

Nighttime presses in on all sides, when it’s on the beach. The white sands go black with shade. The sea churns inky dark. The sky, tonight, is illuminated by a pale sliver of a moon, curved like a talon. You can taste the salt in the air.

This part of Sene Verde is empty of tourists. The jutting peaks at the center of the island cast it in near permanent shade, blocks the warm air from the other side. It’s colder here. More desolate. 

The sea breeze is frigid. Goosebumps erupt along your arms. It cuts through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. Looking out unto the tides, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. The chill shocks the panic frozen. Your breathing begins to steadily. Your pulse quiets. The cold, packed sand is making your toes number with each step you take back inland. 

The merchant waits for you at the top of the rickety, wooden steps. His long, blonde hair tossed by the wind. The slight moonlight casts his white jacket in pale silver. His green eyes gleam, appraising you as you ascend. He gives nothing away, expression tempered and gentle. Eyelids hung low as the moon in the sky.

“Why did you run?” he asks, curious more than upset. 

“I didn’t know you were coming. I panicked,” you say, sounding as ragged as you feel. Your eyes hurt. The wind whipped them dry as you threw open the door to your cabin and rushed down the slope, bits of shell and twig scraping the soles of your feet as you blindly fled towards the sea. The churning gales are brutal, this time of night, this time of year.

Luocha coos at you. “Why? I’ve never given you any cause to fear.”

“There’s something wrong with you. No sane salesman would come to this part of the island to peddle. Unless they were desperate, which—” you pointedly look him up and down, taking in the fine make of his clothes, the gleaming bits and silken sashes which emblazon his garments. “—you clearly aren’t.”

“I didn’t come to sell anything. I just wanted to see you.” he says, letting you walk past him. Your feet pad across the worn wooden planks. Wet and crusted with cold sand. There’s an underlying creep you’ve felt, all day. Like a horse sensing a storm which has yet to roll in. A buzzing rumble which had you pacing up and down the main hall of your hollowed home. All day, you’d insisted it was your own, petty anxiety getting to you—but you were right. You’re always right. These feelings, at the end of the day, are always right.

You’re more upset with yourself than him, you realize, pressing your fingers to the space between your brows, eyes crumpling shut as you cross the threshold into the living room. You press your back to the wall and tilt your head back, listening to Luocha’s boots scuff against the boards until he, too, is inside. He shuts the door. Tenderly clicks the lock shut.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day. Have you been sleeping?” 

No, you haven’t.

“It’s none of your business,” you gripe. The feeling of the dried sand stuck to your skin grates you in all the wrong ways. It’s sudden, how quick the aggravation piles high. The entire walk back, you hardly paid it any note. But now—it makes you want to writhe out of your own skin. 

You wipe them on the welcome mat to get the worst of it off. The bristled fabric grates on your soles. Luocha’s gaze weighs on you, unreadable yet heavy, but you do your best to ignore him and all the space he takes up. A few lightbulbs framed by rounded, hanging bowls of glass light up the hallway dim as you stumble off to the bathroom. The tide still rings in your ears. Your skin still prickles with the cold. Your eyes still hurt.

The downstairs bathroom has a rickety old chair set up against the wall, opposite the sink. It’s a decently-sized space. A line of dusty lights hangs above the old mirror. You make a beeline for the shower, twisting the knob to turn on the spray. The water pelts the tiled floor. You shed your sleeping gown. The flimsy white thing crumples to the floor in a heap of useless, thin cloth. You step underneath the spray without checking the temperature, and flinch as the searing water runs down your back. 

You stand there for— well, you don’t really keep track. You shut your eyes and let the sound of the water lull you into a hazy stupor. The world outside seals itself off. There is nothing beyond the four walls of this room. Nothing besides the scald of the water, the steam that churns in the air and fogs the glass. Eventually, you wash off with trembling hands. You just took a shower this afternoon, but you lavish yourself in rose-scented soaps anyways. The smell is soft, grounding. 

You remain even after the suds have long swirled down the drain.

A knock at the door pulls you from your piece. You blink blearily, and shut the water. The temperature drops immediately. A horrid shiver rolls down your spine and you stumble towards the door, legs shaking like a newborn fawn. Water drips onto the floor and puddles onto the pale blue tile. Your floor mats are still in the wash. By some manner of miracle, you manage not to slip. Your hand closes around the knob and you pull the door open, looking at the man on the other side with bleary eyes. Bare from head to toe. It somehow doesn’t bother you.

Nor does it phase him. Luocha takes in your state impassively. His gaze sweeps up and down your body, taking in fresh bruises and old wounds.

“You’ll catch a cold, like that,” he sighs. He walks past you, and you’re not sure why, but it feels like a rejection. It stings. You don’t want his attention, especially not like that, but it still stings. You shut your eyes. The outside air sweeps into the room and chills your skin in an instant, goosebumps crawling up your arms and legs. You keep dripping on the floor.

Warm cloth drapes around your shoulder. You stiffen, spine setting rigid. The cushiony cloth wicks away the moisture, swept across your cool skin by hands much too gentle. The beast at your back bundles you in newfound warmth, a hum low in his chest.

“Can you make it upstairs on your own?” he asks. He knows where your room is. Because he’s been in there before, but it still unsettles you. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, clutching the ends of the towel together to your chest, fruitlessly attempting to preserve the modesty you have nothing left of. Awareness creeps back to you in slow stages, but you’re not sure if it’s even worth it to care, anymore. He’s seen all there is to see. Today and the last time he came. Whenever that was. It’s hard to keep track of the days.

“Then go,” he lays his hands upon your shoulders, gloved hands squeezing through the towel. His fingers rub small, soothing circles over your now-covered skin. And his voice, gentle as the seabreeze, coasts over the top of your ear. “And change. I’ll make you some tea.”

And the warmth at your back disappears. It’s jarring, because you hadn’t released how close he’d come in those fragile, few moments. You brush off the discomfort, the emptiness at your back—because you shouldn’t feel so comfortable with him. 

The wooden steps creak underfoot as you ascend the first floor. The sound reverberates through the cavernous hall below. The gales beat against the side of the house. Vicious, this time of year.

A few minutes later sees you hobbling into the kitchen, clothed in a sleepshirt, shorts and a robe thrown atop of it, tied around your waist with a blue sash. 

The kitchen is a small space with a window side table surrounded on either side by two wooden chairs. It’s a pitiful thing compared to the massive dining room it sits next to. More of a hall than a room, a great and cavernous space you hardly ever use. Large spaces frighten you, these days. It feels too empty, too cold. Empty spaces riddle you with a horrible sense of uncertainty. Long halls with high ceilings that distort in your field of vision, becoming endless tunnels unto forever. Just more nothing.

The kitchen is much better. Made smaller by the counters which box in what little walking space already existed. There’s room for two people to stand comfortably in front of the stove, three if you squeeze. Its dark wooden cabinets and counters are contrasted by the aged white refrigerator and microwave. None of the other appliances really match, either. They’re old, out of fashion things you picked up here or there. And the kettle—it’s a sorry, banged up thing that hardly sees any use.

Luocha looks laughably out of place in his crisp button-up and slacks. He’s draped his jacket over a chair. His gloves lay abandoned next to the sink, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. And a while you were gone, he tucked his boots by the door, right next to your sandals and sneakers.

“Made yourself comfortable right away, huh?” you say with a bit of bitter humor.

Luocha looks over his shoulder at you, not a shred of irony in his expression as he speaks. “This is home.” he says softly, before turning back to the counter. “I know where everything is, and I know what you like to eat. It would have been remiss of me to simply twiddle my thumbs and wait.” he reasons. The scent of something toasting wafts in the air, a familiar smell that softens you.

“We should bake a loaf or two later. The ones from last time froze well, didn’t they?” Luocha hums. The toaster pops. Two flat slices of Senerian rose loaf, tinged pink with deep brown crust. Luocha plucks them between thumb and forefinger, gently depositing them onto a ceramic seafoam plate. You purchased it from an artisan market on the other side of the island.  It was the only purchase you made before getting overwhelmed by the crowds and the heat.

“I don’t have enough flour,” you murmur, hardly loud enough to hear. You hover in the doorway, cheek pressed to the cold, glazed wood. 

“You’re running low on butter, too. Shall I bring you some tomorrow?” he turns from you to slather some onto the slices. Pale white smears across the crisped surface, immediately beginning to melt. He glides around your kitchen with an agitating ease. He knows where nearly everything is. Not that it’s too difficult. The layout has remained unchanged over the course of his many visits. 

“That’s alright. I’ll go myself.” you insist.

“When?” he presses.

“Sometime this week,” you raise your chin, voice just a little sharper than you meant it, leveling him with a flinty stare. He seems to weigh your answer for a moment, which both unsettles and annoys you. For who is he to doubt you in your own home?

“Perhaps I’ll come with you when you do.” he muses, looking remarkably skeptical. You try not to let it bother you.

He gently places the plate atop your tiny table, squares of butter glistening under the dim kitchen light—little more than a bulb in a fishbowl hung from the ceiling. It flickers intermittently. 

“Come and eat,” he beseeches, countenance softening. His lips worry into a slight from when you stay exactly where you are, numb gaze frozen on the plate. Hunger blisters deep in your gut, a familiar ache. It’s much too easy to forget when you’re lost in your work, or in your head, or in the shower staring at the drain.

He says your name cautiously, like you’re a cornered animal. You know, better than to believe that tender falsetto. He talks in warnings never in pleas. It kicks you into motion, ferries you across the threshold and into one of the rattan chairs, plucking one of the thick, cotton soft slices off the plate. Your reward is a pleased smile and a glass of cold water. 

He doesn’t sit down with you. He bustles around the kitchen, pulling open cabinets and drawers with furrowed brows, obviously taking stock of what you’re missing. It pisses you off.

“Quit snooping,” you bark at him with a rotten glower.

“I’m just checking what else you may be low on, lest you come home from shopping only to realize you have to make a second trip,” he points out.

You lapse into silence, focusing on the taste of the loaf—sweet and rosy—a perfect juxtaposition to the salted butter. It’s a bit more fragrant than you’re used to, something earthy seeped into the grain.

“You’ve been taking wonderful care of the garden,” Luocha says—and he’s suddenly sat across from you, moved across the kitchen in a blink. Or had you simply not been paying attention? You look at him through bleary eyes, but his inscrutable gaze is fixed on your hand, gently cradled in his now. The tips of his long fingers slide across your palm, and fan out to tease the webbing between your own.

“Was I just supposed to let it die?” you scoff.

“You could have. It would have been well within your right,” Luocha hums, sounding a little amused. His palm comes to cradle the back of your own, and you would rather he just hold your hand than whatever he’s doing now—toying—playing with apart of you without asking just like the seeds he’d sown out back, nestled beneath the evergreens in your yard. Fragile little herbs and florets that would have easily withered during the darker months. Yet, you unearthed them, sheltered them within the sanctity of your home, uprooted them with your hands and sweat and saw to it that they grew—

“It’s not their fault that they were born.” you repl ycoolly.

“You’re so kind,” Luocha coos sympathetically. The rest of your time in the kitchen is spent in peaceable silence.

After your impromptu snack, you take care of the dishes, brushing off his lingering hands with a steely look and a wooden spatula in hand. He slithers upstairs, and you meet him only after the the dishes have been squared away and the counter cleared of any crumbs, and the entire room meticulously combed over to—to settle something within you. To make sure nothing had been moved or changed. The last reserves of your energy begin to sputter out, so you drift out the kitchen and down the hall. The wall is cool and coarse against your fingers.

You ascend the stairs, reach the second floor, a straight shot hall with several doors and branching, dead ends. Some rooms are connected. Some aren’t. You’ve long given up understanding why it had been built this way.

Luocha is in your bathroom. He’s climbed out of his day clothes, now clad in a black nightgown that reaches his knees, the waist cinched by a pale, purple sash. He’s applying some sort of cream, slender fingers coated in a milky white substance. He rubs it into the flat of his cheeks, moisture making his skin glisten beneath the dim lamplight. You hover in the doorway, feeling floaty and simple. 

“Can I try?” you ask, for no reason at all.

Luocha blinks, as though he hadn’t realized you were there, but he doesn’t afford you the time to feel any trepidation or doubt.

“Of course, of course—come here,” he urges, and you huddle in the tiny space alongside him. “It’s a moisturizer. I picked it pu during my last trip to the Xianzhou. It’s gentle, with all natural ingredients. Nothing you’re allergic to—I checked.”

The cream is chilly and moist on your skin as he heaps it on, spreading it delicately across your cheeks with his middle and pointer fingers. Your nose wrinkles and your eyes flutter shut. It smells good. Subtle. 

“Cold,” you mumble, and he laughs, tracing it across your forehead and over your temples, a steady and massaging rhythm that leaves you swaying. You are alone, in the near dark with a man you hate, preening beneath his ministrations like some domesticated creature. You’re too tired to care when his thumb brushes over your chin, teasing your bottom lip.

“All done,” he says softly. He leans down and presses a kiss to your pouting lips. It’s too firm to be chaste. His hand reaches up, like he’s going to cradle the back of your head, but he doesn’t. He steps away and smiles. “You’re so patient, now.”

“Not like I have another choice,” you murmur. He turns from you, plucking your toothbrush from its stand. Your eyes go glassy.

You blink, and he’s holding it in front of your face. A dollop of white and blue toothpaste sits on the pearly bristles. He stops just short of brushing them for you. Instead, he watches you do it, unreadable. It kind of pisses you off, as is typical with most things he does or says. Saying anything now would be meaningless. You’re too tired to argue for the sake of arguing, the most bitter of your demons quelled by the soft siren song of approaching sleep.

“You should come with me, tomorrow,” he says while you rinse out your mouth. 

“To where?” you spit into the sink, watching  the water swirl the drain.

“To the markets,” he reminds you. “It’s supposed to be clear skies all weekend with low humidity.”

You hum absentmindedly, pretending to give it thought as you bumble out of the bathroom. His footsteps are nearly inaudible as he tails you, quiet as a ghost. Silent to the undiscerning ear. Not to you, though, who has spent long enough in these halls to know their every sound and tone by heart.

“And the tourist season ended a week ago,” he comes to walk at your side, still wheedling. “The crowds will be thin.”

“Which means there’ll still be too many people,” you remind him sharply, shouldering past and into a room adjacent to your own, as though hoping to lose him. “I thought you hate it when I talk to other people. Make up your mind, already.”

“Never have I said such a thing,” he pesters you through the thin walls. The door to your bedroom opens and shuts. You can hear him fussing with something inside, pulling aside blankets and turning on the room’s standing fan, because you can’t sleep without the white noise.

Unable to stand the crowds, but uncomfortable in the peace of near silence, the distant crashing of the waves. 

“It would be good for you to stretch your legs—and it’ll be much easier for me to buy everything you need if you’re there.”

“You already snooped through the whole kitchen, didn’t you? You should already know what I need,” you insist through the door. You do need groceries, but the idea of stepping foot outside familiar ground is more than frightening—it’s paralyzing.

“Ah, but I’m unfamiliar with the brands on this planet and which you prefer. If faced with a choice, I may just purchase every option available.” he teases, but the threat is very real. Having to eat twenty loafs of bread before the expiry date is not something one forgets.

“Fine, fine,” you nearly snarl as you shove the adjoining door open. The room is low lit. He’s already shimmied beneath the covers, cheek nestled in the cradle of his palm. He smiles at the sight of you, lips pulled into the sort of soft, sleepy grin most reserve for their lovers—which you are most decidedly not. His charity remains unwarranted and you will do your best to curb the amount of money he’s so keen to waste. No amount of bounty or tribute will earn what he is so determined to pry from you. “I’ll humor you. But I’m not paying you back for any of it.”

“Knowing you’ll have enough to eat while I’m away will be enough,” he says. “Now please, dear. Won’t you come to bed?” he asks, and his eyes are half-lidded, face gone soft with sleepiness. Blond hair furls in wisps around his face, knocked out of place by the bedding. No matter how many times he stays, the sight always disarms you—whisks you back to chilly nights on your family’s old farm.

Your parents let him sleep in the guest house, when he happened to come by—and you (black sheep, albatross)—jumped at the chance to avoid family dinners by bringing a helping to him instead, where you’d linger with him. Until the fireplace dimmed and its warm light caught on his low lashes, fighting sleep to speak with you just a moment longer.

Back then, you feared you had encroached on his space and time for your own selfish diversions. You fear nothing, now. You flop onto the mattress and wriggle beneath the sheets, like a particularly graceless mole. The sheets are cool, buttery soft where he hasn’t touched them. The fresh scent of something earthy hangs in the air. Wet charcoal, the outside after rain. Which is quite peculiar, as it hasn’t rained since last week. Something you would fret more over if the hour were not so late and you were not so tired, wrapped in the sudden melancholy of those far off memories.

“Luocha,” you mumble as you shuffle close, lingering a precious few inches away. A plush pillow is tucked against your chest, as though it would stop him if his intentions drifted towards something less than pure. He draws as close as he can, shimmying down to be at eye level with you.

A question lingers at the tip of your tongue. Or rather, a potential question—a vague idea of a question that your sleep addled self cannot quite put together. You almost feel guilty in the silence that settles. He looks so intent, so ready to listen. Like he would answer whatever inane query you posed to the best of his ability.

In the end, you're too fragmented to give him the pleasure of it.

“Thank you,” you say, and are almost astonished to find that you mean it.

“I’m only taking responsibility, and I’m happy to do it.” he hums. “Though, I would be happier if you accompanied me.” he tacks on. And there is surely something to be said about how easily he moves you, but the sanctity of your bedroom is no place to broach the subject. Despite the frustration, the fear, the resentment—you can’t help but want his approval. Frayed edges of you which long for outward approval. It’s all at war inside you, armies which claw and writhe for claim of what little mental space remains free. The last empty stable at the back of that dusty barn.

“I’ll think about it,” you murmur, and close your eyes.

[readychilledwine]

Long post ahead lovelies!

We hit ✨️100✨️ friends!

Thank you to all of the beautiful humans who've taken the time to interact with my posts, with me, and to follow me.

In celebration- Part 2 of Slow Hands will be posted soon. Here's a little preview of that:

Lyria sighed softly as Azriel's hands ran along her back. He was being so gentle with her, and she appreciated this, even if it was clear he didn't exactly know what he was doing. She moaned as he applied more pressure to a tighter area, causing the male to grin with satisfaction. "Like that, little fox?"

"Just like that," her voice had become breathy, eyes fluttering shut. He was doing the best he could to remember her motions from the week before, copying them as closely as possible.

Azriel was almost desperate to see her fall apart the way he had. He was desperate to repay that favor. He allowed his shadows to begin exploring. Watching as they played in her hair, down her back, over the perfect ass he'd been dreaming about. His goal was set as she moaned again. Lyria was going to cum for him tonight, and he honestly did not care how.

I have a dark Eris piece I am working on, along with other Eris week pieces. I do not want to preview it yet since I am still in what I call my rough write process. I am going to try to get it ready by the time I am posting all of my "Here's to 100" pieces, though!

And, as promised, here's a sneaky-sneak at 5 little pieces I have written. Take a vote below on which one you'd like to see. The top 2 will be posted in celebration of 100+ people taking a shot following me for their entertainment 💜

Option A - Cassian x Illyrian Female OC - (domestic Cassian Fluff) - Cassian, ever the morning person, found himself madly in love and mated to a female who hates the world before her morning coffee

Cassian adored mornings. He loved watching the sun as it began its ascend over the mountains. He loved the crisp chilled air. He loved breakfast. Early morning training. Cassian was an early bird.  His mate, however, adored their nightlife. She was the last to rise out of bed. The last to leave the table at Rita's with Mor. The last to bed. She loved dinners, the stars reflecting on the Sindra. She worshiped the moon, and he, the sun. 

The one thing the two truly shared in common, though, was their love and need for coffee. Cass was approachable before his first cup, chipper even. He glanced over his shoulder where his mate sat, her wings wrapped tight around her. Her hands held her head. Her long dark hair was falling over her shoulders. "Almost done, babe."

"Fuck. Off." His mate? Not so much.

Option B - Lucien Vanserra x Archeron reader - pure smut set during ACOTAR. Takes place the morning after Calanmai. Y/N is set for an interesting morning after breaking Lucien's rules regarding fire night.

"Lucien," I whispered softly. "Please, bed."

He chuckled darkly against me before pulling away enough to speak to me, "Such a picky demanding little human." He tutted me, squeezing my ass tighter in his grip. "After your little slip up last night, you will take what I give you. Shut your mouth like a good little girl, and let me enjoy my early morning treat."

Option C - Rhys x Night Court OC - angst, angst, angst - post UTM - Rhys and Aelia are married and when he arrives home, the first thing he tells his wife is he found his mate. (Very much the opposite of my previous multi part fic)

"You found your mate, Rhys. That's going to change."

His eyes were squeezed shut as he forced her into his chest. "No, it won't. I'll reject the bond." She shook her head softly. Azriel would murder her if she asked this of Rhysand. Azriel had dreamed of finding his mate. He had begged them to think getting married through, but they impulsively had. And Rhys had sworn her in as High Lady. And now they had a son together. A son who was 60 and would understand exactly what all of this meant. 

Option D - Eris Vanserra x Winter Court Reader - Autumn Equinox themed due to having extra Eris Week Pieces - NSFW at all - sex pollen/magic - 4some with 2 Autumn Court Ocs - takes place during an orgy - Reader is a Winter Court Emissary invited to the Autumn Court during their equinox celebration. Little did she know, Eris had other hopes when he brought her here.

"What happens during the hunt?" Eris kissed below your ear, causing a haze to set in as you relaxed and sighed.

"My father will shift into something different and more animalistic. He will go through the forest to find his fawn for the night and bring her here. They begin coupling, and we all will as well. It helps us thank the land for a successful harvest and keeps the population of Autumn higher than other courts."

"So this is a breeding festival?"

"Yes, little moth, it is." You watched as his friend smirked, repositioning the pretty female in his lap so she was straddling him and facing him before kissing her deeply. Eris began to roam his fingers along the neckline of your dress. "And we can just watch them all if you'd like, we can play if you'd like, or I can winnow you to the Forest House and find myself a new little moth. It is all your choice."

Option E - Azriel x Archeron Sister OC - set before they are made by hybern - NSFW - Body Worship, Dom/sub dynamics - ends with angst - Kaylee is the youngest of the Archeron sisters. After her older sister returns home with 3 attractive men, everything changes for her.

Her skin was on fire with every touch of his hand, only to be instantly cooled by his shadows. "So fucking beautiful," Azriel groaned into her neck. "Look at yourself in the mirror and say you're beautiful." 

His hands roamed lower and lower, finger tips leaving goosebumps in their wake as he continued to kiss her neck. "Az-"

"I gave you an order, little one," he bit harshly at her pulse point, soaking in her gasp and moan. "I expect you to follow it."

[theobsessedbrunet]

Let you go

One-shot, Pairings: Evan Buckley x You

  You stared at the person who stood before. The person who you thought you knew completely, the only one person who would never let you down. The only person you could count one. Hair in a complete mess, lips slightly swollen from last night, eyes brighter than ever and skin glowing. 

  You were like a completely different person. 

  As you pulled your hair into a ponytail and washed your face with refreshing water, you leaned against the sink and contemplated on your sanity. What the hell did you do? This isn't like you to just lose control and sleep with a stranger.

  But there was something about that man. He was so genuine and yet still so enticing. Typical playboy but what made him different was how he opened up to you after the sex. You stayed up so long, talking about life. Your hopes and dreams, fears. Honestly, it felt good.

  That scared the hell out of you so you did the only thing that was logical after that. You sneaked out before he could wake up.

  Days had gone by and you still found yourself getting lost while reliving the night. The kisses, whispers you shared, his fingers grazing your skin. You got goosepbumps at just the thought of them. 

  "Who's picking you up today? Your dad?" You asked as Christopher walked beside you towards the entrance of the school. Christopher was usually the last kid to be picked up. Secretly you liked that, he's such a good kid. Cristopher loved bringing joy to everybody and he was the life of the party at school.

  "Bucky will pick me up. Dad is working." Christopher said as we ascended the last steps of the stairs. 

  You placed your hand behind Christopher, ready to catch him if he lost balance with his walking sticks. In this profession of the things you learn that the kids can handle themselves and should be given more credit. But there was a parental part of you that wanted to be ready and help if needed.

  "Who's Bucky?

  Bucky had tried to convince himself that you were just one of his many one night stands. One that would be a memorable one but he quickly realized that wasn't the case. He found himself thinking of your laugh that rang through the quiet room in the night, of your eyes as they turned a shade brighter when you talked about your slight obsession on Brooklyn 99. 

  When he saw you ascending down the stairs he couldn't believe his eyes. There you were, laughing at something that Christopher had said. This had to be destiny right? 

  "I am. Hi." Bucky shyly smiled as he pushed his hands into his pockets

  Soon Bucky's happiness changed to insecurity as he saw the look on your face. You wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction and he could see that. He didn't know what reaction he was expecting but it wasn't that terror on your face.

  "Hi." You suddenly blurted out as you quickly turned to look at the boy next to you. You placed your hand on his shoulder and smiled, desperately trying to mask the shock in your voice and face.

  "I'll see you tomorrow Christopher. "

  "Byee." Christopher smiled and waddled over to Bucky who welcomed him with open arms. 

  "Hi buddy! Could you go and wait in the car? I'll be right over."

    Crap. You pressed your lips together as they started to tingle at the sight of his own. He was even better looking than you remembered. Eva- or Bucky, whatever his name was. He had a beautiful model smile and height that left you feeling small. But what stood out was his eyes. They were so bright and genuine, just like you remembered.

 "Hi." He said once again to steady himself. Kind smiles were shared. 

  "I thought you were Evan." A laugh escaped out of him as he quickly glanced at the ground, taking the opportunity to let his eyes travel from your shoes to your eyes.

  "I am. My name is Evan Buckley but friends call me Buck or Bucky."

  You smiled at him, professionally. "I see."

  This was very awkward. Silence surrounded you two as you both tried to wrap your heads around the situation. 

  "So I just have to say this." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words. "I don't want to let you go." 

  Your eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

  "No, I mean that, umm." Bucky laughed, hand running through his hair as he collected himself. He had asked women out many, many times. Bucky 2.0 just wasn't very suave anymore with women who were out of his league anymore.

  "Are you trying to ask me out?" You laughed as you looked at the suddenly very nervous and flustered man before you. He visibly relaxed under your gaze as you took the words right out of his mouth.

  "I am. " 

  You pulled out your calendar from your bag and quickly scribbled your name and number on an empty page. You walked down the last step and approached Bucky with confidence. This was your cliche movie moment and you owned it with pride. 

  Bucky's eyes traveled your movement as you approached him. He was very into his, into you. This was why he couldn't stop thinking of you. You went after what you wanted. And currently, you wanted him.

[tameodesza]

Love's Maze (BretShawn)

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The moment comes where Bret finally meets Shawn's parents

EPILOGUE – 2 Years Later

The sun beamed a soft orange hue as its warmth traveled in the light summer breeze. Shawn’s loose hair danced in the wind, Bret’s being contained in a low ponytail. The couple ascended the mahogany steps of the front porch, Shawn’s hand tightly holding Bret’s left as the older man clenched a bouquet of daisies in his right hand.

It was a big day – the day Bret would meet Shawn’s parents.

Shawn and Bret had come a long way in their two years of dating – two years that Shawn claimed as the best years of his life. All because of the man walking beside him.

Bret was the perfect boyfriend in Shawn’s eyes, always putting Shawn first before himself. Shawn was still getting used to that as he’d been so accustomed to putting himself last for so long.

It’s because of Bret that Shawn learned what a healthy relationship was supposed to look like.

The door of their hotel room slowly creaked open as Shawn made his way into the dimly lit space. As he kicked off his shoes, he said apprehensively, “Sorry for coming back so late.”

Bret set aside the book he’d been reading before getting up from the bed to walk towards Shawn, pulling the blond into a hug once he was within reach. “It’s ok. Did you have fun?”

Shawn knitted his brows, pulling his head back to look at Bret as he asked, “You’re not mad?”

Bret tilted his head, saying with a confused look of his own, “No? You were out with Hunter, right?’

“Yeah. I know I was supposed to be back sooner so we could watch movies. I just lost track of time-”

“Shawn,” Bret stopped him short. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to explain yourself to me? I figured you were out enjoying yourself.”

Shawn lowered his eyes from Bret, lips downturned like a scolded child. Bret placed a finger under Shawn’s chin, lightly lifting his head to meet his gaze, saying gently, “I trust you, ok?”

The sincerity in Bret’s tone along with his tender eyes were enough to suffice Shawn’s worries. The blond nodded, saying breathily, “Ok.”

Bret placed a reassuring kiss on Shawn’s temple before whispering, “Let’s go to bed.”

That was early on into their relationship, but Shawn still looked back on the moment warmly. Not only did he learn that it wasn’t normal to always expect an argument, but it was also the first time he truly realized how much Bret trusted him.

Not only did Bret trust him, but he was a very supportive boyfriend. Whether it was helping Shawn with a match, standing up for him against locker room bullies, or just listening to Shawn rant about whoever pissed him off that day. Bret was always there, never failing to build up Shawn when he was tearing himself down, to be the hype man that he needed.

Bret had even been the biggest supporter when Shawn threw out the idea of getting “HBK” tattooed on his ass cheek, which they still got a laugh out of.

“You’re really encouraging him to get that tatted on his ass,” Kevin asked Bret flatly in disbelief.

Kevin, Bret, and Shawn were in the dingy basement of some guy’s house in a shady part of town. It wasn’t the most ideal circumstance, but it was the only way Shawn could have Bret there as moral support without breaking kayfabe.

“Shut up,” Shawn directed at Kevin through clenched teeth in defense of Bret.

The blond rested chest-first on the tattoo table, face pressed firmly against the leather padding as one arm hung off the side of the table, the other pulled towards Bret to interlock their hands. He squinted in discomfort as the sharp needle dug deeper into his fully exposed ass cheek.

Bret rubbed his thumb soothingly on the back of Shawn’s hand before responding to Kevin’s question. “If it makes him happy, then yes. I encourage it.”

Honestly, Bret was a little thrown off when Shawn first suggested the tattoo, but the blond seemed so excited about it. And what type of boyfriend would Bret be to tell him no?

Kevin faked a gag as he said, “You guys make me sick.”

Shawn let out a low whine at the slight pain of the needle, squeezing Bret’s hand for support before saying with a strained voice, “If you’re jealous, just say so. AH! Fuck,” he groaned as the needle lingered on a tender spot.

“It’s ok,” Bret whispered, bringing Shawn’s hand towards his lips to kiss his knuckles. “You’re almost done.”

Despite Kevin’s jokes, he looked on at the couple in adoration, glad that Shawn had someone like Bret in his life.

Shawn was out of action for a few weeks to allow his tattoo to heal. That somehow turned into Bret staying with him for a few weeks in San Antonio to make sure he was taking care of the tattoo properly. It was during those weeks together that the blond almost told Bret that he loved him.

Despite being so content with each other, the couple did experience a few bumps along the way – most notably, Shawn’s drug abuse.

Although he’d slowed down his usage after ending things with Marty, it was a struggle for Shawn to completely wean himself off of pills.

He initially thought he didn’t have a problem. It’s not like he needed them every day.

But whenever memories of his past began to haunt him, Shawn would quickly revert back to his old unhealthy habits, trying to get high enough just to make himself numb. He would shut down in these instances, often distancing himself from Bret both figuratively and literally.

However, the more Shawn tried to create a barrier, the more determined Bret was to not leave his side.

Bret sat on the bathroom floor, cradling Shawn in his arms as the blond cried into his neck. He gently swayed their bodies side-to-side as Shawn came down from a particularly bad high, the relapse being triggered by rumors of Marty returning to the WWF.

“You don’t need them, Shawn,” Bret whispered softly, referring to the pills sitting on the sink.

Shawn sniffed, as another sob racketed through his body, “I do.”

Bret sat back, coaxing Shawn’s head out of his neck before placing both hands firmly on the blond’s cheeks. He rested his forehead onto Shawn’s as he emphasized, “You don’t. Please. Let me help you. Don’t shut me out.”

Shawn closed his eyes, too tired to keep them as he said weakly, “Why am I like this? I don’t like feeling like this, Bret.”

“I know you don’t,” Bret soothed. “I’m here to help.”

“I just don’t get it.” He opened his eyes, backing up a little from Bret as he said almost angrily, “I’m such a fucking mess. Why are you still with me?”

It took just a second for Bret to respond with much conviction, “Because, I love you.”

It was the first time either of them officially said it out loud.

Shawn looked on astonished, asking with a shaky breath, “You love me?”

Bret nodded, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind Shawn’s ear. “Yes, I do. Without a doubt.”

Shawn’s vision became blurrier as Bret’s words settled. Bret tugged the blond closer, guiding his head onto his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around him.

Shawn hugged him back just as closely, hands grasping tightly at the back of Bret’s shirt, his mind now occupied with Bret’s confession.

 After taking a moment to calm himself down, Shawn took in a deep breath, letting it out before saying, “I love you, too.”

Shawn couldn’t see it, but Bret was grinning ear-to-ear. It probably wasn’t the most romantic way to discover Shawn loved him back, but Shawn’s never been the most conventional guy.

Bret turned his head slightly to kiss Shawn’s cheek, whispering, “We’re going to get through this, ok? Together.”

It was then that Shawn knew that Bret was someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

They’d shared so much of their lives together in the span of a couple of years, but the one thing that was missing was Bret meeting Shawn’s parents.

To be honest, Shawn felt a little guilty that it took this long for it to happen.

He’d had it easy with Bret’s family as he’d met many of the Harts on multiple occasions throughout the business. It had only been a couple of months into them dating when Shawn was invited to spend Christmas in Calgary, being proudly introduced to Bret’s family as his boyfriend.

On the other hand, Shawn’s parents were well-aware of Shawn dating Bret. It was hard not to when nearly every sentence leaving Shawn’s mouth included ‘my boyfriend’ this and ‘my boyfriend’ that.

But as much as Shawn liked to brag about Bret to his family, he was a little hesitant on introducing them, especially with how badly his last relationship ended. It also didn’t help that his dad made it no secret that he believed no man was worthy of his son’s heart, and that the next guy would have a hell of a time proving his worth to him.

That ‘next guy’ being Bret.

Upon reaching the front door of his parents’ home, Shawn turned to Bret, saying with a tender tone, “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not,” Bret said unconvincingly.

Shawn gave a soft smile as he unlaced their hands to smooth down a crease on Bret’s collar. “You are.”

Bret let out a sigh, bringing Shawn’s hand back into his own as he said, “Ok, maybe I am a little.”

“Aww,” Shawn said with a pout. “It’s going to be ok, babe. I promise. If they get out of line, we’ll leave. Let’s come up with a safe word.”

Bret raised a brow, shaking his head in disapproval. “Shawn, you haven’t seen your parents in five months. I’m not going to be the reason your visit gets cut short.”

Shawn narrowed his eyes as he repeated, “Safe word.” Yes, it had been awhile since he saw his parents, and he missed them dearly, but he had no issues making an abrupt exit if they disrespected Bret.

Seeing that Shawn wasn’t budging, Bret said begrudgingly, “Mushrooms.”

Shawn asked, slightly amused, “Why mushrooms?”

“Because you hate them. Thought it’d give you enough of a clue that I want to get the fuck out of there if need be.”

“Ok,” Shawn said with an affirmative nod. “Mushrooms. Let’s do this.”

Shawn lifted his free hand to knock on the door but halted as if remembering something important. “Oh, and just to let you know, I’m a bit of a daddy’s boy,” he warned. “So try not to be intimidated if my dad goes all ‘protective dad’ mode.”

It was something Shawn probably should have mentioned well in advance instead of seconds before Bret was to meet said dad.

“Oh, lovely,” Bret said uneasily.

Shawn pecked Bret on the cheek for one final confidence boost before ringing the doorbell, the familiar tune barely finishing as the door flung open, the nostalgic scent of the house rushing out as if to welcome Shawn home.

Mrs. Hickenbottom stood at the door, flashing a radiant smile as she jumped for joy, exclaiming, “Is that my Mikey?!”

“Mom!”

Shawn detached his hand from Bret’s, the older man reluctant to let go, before being pulled into a loving embrace by his mom. “Oh, my baby boy. I missed you so much!”

“I miss you, too, Ma,” he said as he pulled away to get a good look at her.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, cooing, “Look at you. Just as handsome as always.”

“Oh, stop smothering the boy,” Shawn hears his dad bellow as he comes up behind his mom.

“Dad!”

Mr. Hickenbottom took his wife’s place, hugging Shawn as if he’d fly away in the wind. “Welcome home, son! I missed having you around here.”

“I missed being around here,” Shawn chuckled, having to blink a few times as he felt his eyes watering. The warmth of his parents’ love never got old.

Shawn backed out of his dad’s embrace as he heard his mom say, “And you must be the ‘Bret’ we’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bret answered politely as he held out the bouquet of daisies. “These are for you.”

Her face lit up like a kid on Christmas. Shawn rejoined Bret at his side, linking their arms together as he smiled fondly at his mother. He quietly whispered, “See? I told you she’d love them.”

Shawn’s mom was a simple woman to please. But his dad was a different story.

“Oh, these are lovely! Look, honey,” Mrs. Hickenbottom said as she turned towards her husband.

Shawn’s smile faded seeing his dad’s expression, the older man seeming unfazed by the kind gesture. Mr. Hickenbottom walked slowly towards Bret as he looked at him with a stoic expression.

Shawn looked back and forth between the two men, unsure if he should step in. Bret noticed Shawn getting antsy and wanted to put him at ease.

Not wanting to show how nervous he truly was, Bret held out a hand saying, “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Shawn’s dad looked at the outstretched hand for an uncomfortable moment of time, before finally reaching out his own hand to strongly grip Bret’s in a firm handshake. “Likewise.”

It wasn’t quite a warm welcome, but it was as good of a reaction as Shawn could have hoped for.

Unbeknownst to Shawn, it was pretty surreal for his parents, especially Mr. Hickenbottom, to finally be in front of Bret. Shawn had gushed to them countless times about the man – about how well Bret was treating him, how much Bret cared for him, how much he loved him.

And it’s not that they weren’t happy about that. They truly were, but they’d all heard it before with Marty.

In essence, Bret was paying for the crimes of another man, and getting into the good graces of the Hickenbottoms was going to be an uphill battle. But Bret was willing to go through it all for Shawn.

After the awkward handshake, Mrs. Hickenbottom looked at the young couple, noting, “You two look so cute together.”

The men both gave soft smiles, Shawn’s cheeks reddening as he and Bret shared a loving look with each other.

Unfortunately, Shawn’s dad didn’t seem to have the same sentiment, the older man huffing as he turned to walk back into the house.

Shawn looked at his dad’s retreating back with a frown, not loving the way the man was acting. But he was pulled from his thoughts when Bret gave his hand a squeeze in reassurance, a sign that he could handle this. But there was only so much Shawn was willing to let slide without saying something if his dad kept up this act.

Mrs. Hickenbottom either didn’t notice the tension or decided to ignore it as she brightly said, “Well, come on inside, boys! Hope you’re hungry. We’re just about done setting up the dinner table.”

Despite the rough start, dinner was actually pleasant. Or as pleasant as it could be with Shawn leading the conversation between his parents and Bret, his mom engaging in most of the conversation while his dad sat quietly observing everyone at the table. Mainly Bret.

It was towards the end of dinner that Shawn became worried when his dad suddenly asked Bret, “Hey, can I talk to you outside?”

Shawn’s fork stopped midway to his mouth as he froze, alarmed at the thought of his dad being alone with Bret. He quipped, “You can just talk to him right here, Dad.”

“I just need a moment for a one-on-one, son. Guy talk.”

“But I’m a guy, too!”

Bret placed a gentle hand on Shawn’s arm saying, “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

“But-” Before Shawn could finish, both men were already out of their seats, making their way towards the front door.

Shawn looked at his mom for some sort of help, but she didn’t seem too concerned.

As soon as he heard the front door close, Shawn shot up from his chair, hastily making his way to the door. He pressed his ear up against it in hopes of hearing something. Anything! He needed to be sure that Bret was ok.

However, his plans were foiled when he felt a sudden pinch and tug on his left ear. His mom dragged him away from the door as she lectured, “Michael Shawn Hickenbottom, didn’t we teach you better than to eavesdrop?! Now, let them be and come help me clear the table!”

Shawn whined the whole way to the kitchen, reluctantly listening to his mother as he was pulled further away from Bret.

Outside on the porch, the air was thick as the two men stood by each other, staring ahead with tense expressions.

Mr. Hickenbottom broke the silence by asking, “I need to know, and answer me honestly. What are your intentions with my son?”

It was one of many things he’d wanted to ask Bret a soon as he laid eyes on the man. But he knew it would have been nearly impossible to ask any tough questions with Shawn around.

Bret furrowed his brows, turning to look at Mr. Hickenbottom, the elder man keeping his face forward as he answered, “It’s my intention to make him happy. And to be with him for as long as he’ll allow me.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Hickenbottom said, unimpressed. “Are you serious about him?”

“Of course.”

Mr. Hickenbottom then turned towards Bret, narrowing his eyes as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of the man’s mouth. He said with much bitterness, “The last idiot my son was with said the same thing. All nothing but empty promises. I’m sure Shawn’s told you all about him.”

“He did, sir.”

“He left my son in a state I never want to see him in again. You can understand that, right?”

Mr. Hickenbottom was still haunted by the memory of Shawn being strung out on whatever drugs he took to ease the pain, his own heart breaking at witnessing his son’s demise. He never wanted Shawn to have to experience that again.

Bret nodded because he did understand. He’d seen how broken Shawn was after Marty, and that was only the half of it. He could only imagine the state of mind Shawn was in when he visited his parents fresh after the breakup. He felt Shawn’s dad had every right to be skeptical of him.

Mr. Hickenbottom then asked, “Do you even know my son? I mean really know him?”

The accusatory tone of the question caught Bret by surprise, the man getting defensive and a little offended that Mr. Hickenbottom was acting as if their relationship were only superficial.

Feeling the need to prove himself, Bret answered matter-of-factly, “He bites his nails when he’s nervous. It’s a problem he’s had since he was a child. His favorite color’s red. He hates mushrooms with a passion. He claims he loves horror movies but can only watch them with a pillow blocking half his face.”

Mr. Hickenbottom tilted his head inquisitively as Bret rattled off a list of things he’d grown to learn and love about Shawn.

“He has a huge sweet tooth, but surprisingly has only had one cavity in his life. He dreams of living on a ranch when he retires. He loves his family and hopes to have a family of his own someday. He-” Bret hesitates before saying, “He looks up to you a lot. He aspires to have a relationship as loving and long-lasting as yours and your wife’s. And he hopes to be just as great of a dad as you are to his own kids.”

The older man stood still, mouth slightly agape as Bret revealed details about Shawn that he hadn’t known. He tried not to show it, but he was impressed.

“Anything else I don’t know, I’ll learn along the way. But regardless of how long he and I have been together, I know him very well.”

A silent moment stretched on, the only sound coming from the faint chirping of the crickets outside.

Mr. Hickenbottom gave Bret a final hard look before letting out a sigh, his demeanor seeming to soften as he said, “Look, I’m not trying to come off as a hard ass. It’s just that when it comes to Shawn, my baby boy, I worry about him. He’s been through so much pain, too much. All I want is to see him smile, for him to find someone who will love him and be committed to him.”

Bret listened intently, knowing exactly where the man was coming from. “I agree with you on that. All of it. So I’m telling you, man to man, that I do love Shawn. I take him and our relationship very seriously. I wouldn’t be meeting his parents if he didn’t.”

Though Mr. Hickenbottom appeared to be lightening up, the older man seemed to still have his reservations. So Bret decided to be completely honest.

Bret cleared his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he said, “I was married once.”

Mr. Hickenbottom certainly wasn’t expecting to hear that, the man’s brows raising slightly in surprise.

“For nine years. I know all too well the pain of heartbreak, of having your trust broken by someone you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. Shawn and I could relate on that. Sir, I can confidently say to you that I’d never put Shawn through that type of pain, as I wouldn’t want the same for myself.”

The elder man went quiet as he processed what Bret had revealed, not knowing what to say. He found his transparency to be admirable, and it became apparent to him that there’s more to Bret than what meets the eye.

Bret then asked, “Sir, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“You know about mazes, right?”

Mr. Hickenbottom was unsure on how to answer, the question seeming to come out of left field. Skeptical that it was a trick question, he answered carefully, “Yes?”

“I’ve always had this analogy that love is like a maze. You start out with so much confidence, hyping yourself up to believe it’s easy to navigate. But all it takes is one wrong turn into unchartered territory to lose that confidence, to question if you should accept defeat with your head hung low. But if you don’t give up, remain level-headed, and use every wrong turn as a learning experience, it’s inevitable that you’ll reach that reward at the end. Shawn’s that reward for me, sir. And knowing how hard it was to get to this point, I never intend on letting him go.”

Mr. Hickenbottom was left in awe, finding the analogy to be a very insightful and optimistic take on love. It was a vow, a promise, that regardless of how many hard times or ‘wrong turns’ they’d encounter, Bret was in it for the long run.

For the first time that evening, Shawn’s dad was put at ease, relieved even, that Bret was the man his son had chosen to carry on his life with.

Mr. Hickenbottom stretched out a hand towards Bret, shaking his hand as he said earnestly, “Please take care of my son.”

The request was simple, but it had a deeper meaning. He approved of their relationship.

Bret answered just as sincerely, “I will.”

Shawn practically flew to Bret as soon as the front door opened, looking the man over as if expecting to see an injury.

His dad grumbled, “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I didn’t hurt the boy!”

“Better not have,” Shawn moped as he latched himself onto Bret, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck, Bret bringing his hands onto Shawn’s waist.

Mr. Hickenbottom excused himself to the kitchen to go check on his wife. When his dad was out of sight and hearing range, Shawn looked at Bret whispering, “What did you guys talk about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Bret taunted.

Shawn whined, “Hey, don’t tease me.”

Bret grinned, pecking Shawn on the lips before saying, “Sorry, baby. It was a good talk. So don’t stress about it. He just wanted to know my intentions-”

“Uh, he’s so embarrassing,” Shawn groaned. “Was he mean to you?”

Bret quickly refuted, “No. Concerned, yes. But understandably so. Who wouldn’t be if some random Canadian came to snatch up a son as beautiful as you?”

A bashful smile involuntarily made its way onto Shawn’s face, the blond hiding into Bret’s shoulder in retreat. “Stop it.”

Bret smiled down at Shawn, tightening his arms around him, both men unaware of Shawn’s parents looking on at them fondly.

The rest of the evening went on without hitch – Shawn curling up next to Bret on the couch as his parents told embarrassing stories about him, Bret promising to come back the next time Shawn decided to visit, and Shawn’s parents having a newfound appreciation and respect for the man that would be in their son’s life for many years to come.

[mayhaps-a-blog]

Thoughts on the Ahsoka trailer:

It looks good! I’m excited. The new Fallen Jedi look really cool, and I’m very curious to see what they’re up to and how they’ll tie in to the story. It’s great to see the Rebels crew back in action, and it looks like they’ll be doing the full Rebels epilogue in live action, which is exciting!

Also, SHORT-HAIRED SABINE!! I was so excited to see her short hair in the Rebels epilogue, and I’m so glad they’re keeping it - there are so very, very few short-haired women on screen, it’s genuinely exciting to see a main character with short hair.

I don’t think she’s going to be Force Sensitive - honestly, the shot of her “using the Force” was brief enough it could be one of several other gestures, cut together with the Darksider to look like a Force attempt. I think she’d been training with Ahsoka to use Ezra’s lightsaber and pay homage to him and learn more about the Jedi to honor their culture. Remember, this is also a Mandalorian Sabine who’s now seen the fall of Mandalore - I can see her clinging to Jedi traditions as a way to keep them alive, now that she’s seen her own culture be destroyed like theirs was.

I’m honestly excited just to see what direction they go with the plot - I can see many ways this could develop, most of which would be really, really cool in one way or another. I’m very excited for Thrawn, and to see him in live action!

(this got... long)

I don’t think we’ll get much of Thrawn in season 1 - it looks to be focused on the Fallen Jedi, so I expect they’ll be the big bad of season 1 and we’ll get Thrawn in season 2 and onwards. We have been promised a twist, so I’m very curious to see if the Grysk will be brought in as a secret big bad. I think that would be neat, and could be a great twist after setting up Thrawn as the big bad in season 1 and maybe 2.

I do think Lars will do amazing as Thrawn - he’s a fantastic actor with experience with the character, and for anyone whining that he doesn’t look like the book covers, 1) No? Those are drawings? This is a real person? and 2) Yes? This is at least 10 years post-Treason, 30 years post-Ascendancy. Characters get older? And they’re still badass?

I’m also very curious what Ezra’s been up to. I wonder if he’s still a Jedi - 10 years stuck with Thrawn, he could very well have Fallen. Now that could be a twist! Heck, he could be dead. With Sabine left chasing a ghost... Not sure Filoni would try and pull that, but it would sure be a twist!

The less good: The costuming is a bit lazy. It’s pretty good considering Disney is getting quite lazy with their costuming, but it’s definitely not as good as it could be - more in range with, honestly, the rest of the Star Wars stuff coming out these days. I do wish Thrawn was a bit darker blue, and had the luster from the book covers, but I imagine that’s tricky in makeup. Still, it’s not bad!

The we’ll see how it goes: Thrawn is almost definitely going to be a villain, and will probably be killed during the course of the show. I don’t think that’s a bad thing - I know a lot of people cling to his book characterization, but I see the books -> Rebels -> HTTE series as the slide of a well-meaning person into fascism. As much as we’d all love to see him go back to the Ascendancy and defeat the Grysk, it’s equally in character for him to cling to his mission with the Empire as the “only way” to achieve victory (consider the sunk-cost fallacy, and tell me that doesn’t fit Thrawn to a T). He’s stubborn, he’s ruthless, and he believes in a strong military and the efficiency of a dictatorship - and the New Republic is a threat to all of that, and a threat to his goal of building the biggest military ever to defend the galaxy from the Grysk (and anyone else who might challenge him...).

There’s many ways it could be done well - acknowledging the complexity of his character and goals and making his darker actions a product of that - and ways it could be done less satisfyingly. I’m hopeful, and I’m excited to see what comes of it!

And, well, there’s always fanfiction.

[copiousloverofcopia]

Ghoul “I didn’t know I was pregnant” anon here! Yes, that’s what I was thinking; basically the same or a similar setup but with a ghoul as the baby daddy.

Sweet Lucifer in Hell...

I know you've been patiently waiting Anon...

Here you go!

(This is more fun and silly)

Anyways without further ado….

Below the cut r/t descriptions of birth

This time on, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant Ghoul Edition

Y/N, a young Sister of Sin at The Ministry began dating Nameless Ghoul Aether just after the end of The Pale Tour Named Death with Ghost in Spring 2020. It was a fun time at the Abbey. The Ghouls and the newly ascended Papa Emeritus the Fourth looking forward to a bit of relaxation before another tour would begin.

-reenactment-

Aether in his Prequelle uniform returning home catches the eye of the young sister wearing her black habit and a bit of her hair peeking out from under her sibling issues veil. She smiles at him, the ghouls winking at her from the entryway as he helps the others gather their bags from the tour bus just outside.

Y/N: "I had just arrived at the Ministry right when the tour started and hadn't gotten the chance to meet any of the Ghost ghouls, or Papa for that matter, so I was excited when they'd returned home to sneak a peek. It was then I saw him and I felt my heart pounding away." (laughs)

Aether: "We were all exhausted. The tour was rough but great. It was the second half of the Prequelle album cycle, Copia had just become Papa, and while we were all a bit sad to leave the thrill of the rituals…we were more than happy to sleep in our own beds for a change. Mountain takes up so much space and Dew can be a pain in the ass when you are stuck with him on a bus for weeks on in. (laughs) That first day back I caught sight of her and I was blissfully doomed."

Not long after Aether's return. The two start to spend a lot of time together. Being unashamed to show their affections all over the Abbey grounds. Aether, even getting in trouble for skipping out on band practice.

Y/N: "It's actually kind of funny because Papa caught us in the sacristy together when Aeth was supposed to be at practice one day. We were caught with our pants down." (laughs)

Aether: "You know even Papa agreed with me some things in life need to take priority. After all, I made up my practice another time. (winks) I just truly could not get enough of her and honestly still can't." (laughs)

The couple continued their love affair for many weeks which turned into months. Y/N and Aether were becoming closer and closer as the time for him to leave on yet another tour cycle was growing near.

-reenactment-

Aether is at practice playing with the rest of the ghouls in the main hall. Papa is instructing them to play when Y/N arrives to steal Aether away for an afternoon rendezvous. Flash to where Aether and Y/N are kissing and Y/N is hugging him with tears in her eyes knowing that he's going to be leaving soon.

Y/N: "I was devastated. I'm starting to fall into a depression and honestly I was not prioritizing anything other than spending time with him."

-reenactment-

Y/N shown laying in bed and watching TV, sad that Aether will be leaving soon. Shot pans over to birth control pills in the bathroom that have not been opened.

A few days after the announcement that the tour was about to begin, Y/N realizes that she has skipped a couple doses of her birth control pills. She tells Aether and they both anxiously await for her period and then she seems to get it in time.

Aether: "I wasn't really worried about her being pregnant or not at the time. Honestly I love her so much…we could have a million babies. I wasn't even sure we could have them though and we were definitely concerned about the timing since I would be out on the road once again."

Y/N: "It was a relief to know that he wouldn't be upset if we had gotten pregnant, but when I got my period on time both of us were a little bit relieved knowing that we wouldn't have to worry about me trying to deal with a pregnancy on my own back here at the Abbey."

-reenactment-

Y/N and Aether sitting down on the bed when Y/N tells that she has gotten what she believes to be her period.

Y/N continues to feel fatigued and has cravings for salty foods that she contributes to her period. However these symptoms continue to linger on long after the bleeding has subsided which makes them suspicious.

Y/N: "I was concerned that something else may be going on. I started to wonder if I was coming down with something else, but it never occurred to me after having what I thought was a period that I could still be pregnant."

Y/N continues to have cyclical bleeding, however it is irregular and light. She attributes this to the added stress from Aether's upcoming tour. Y/N also develops some slight nausea which seems to plague her throughout the day. She blames it on her disordered eating habits related to depression.

-reenactment-

Y/N puts her hand over her mouth as Aether rubs her back and she begins to cry. The ghoul holds her close in his arms. Aether gets a sad smile on his face.

Aether: "I hated seeing her like that. I was half tempted to tell Papa he needed to find another ghoul…but I knew I had responsibilities to the band, to the Ministry so I came up with another plan." (laughs)

Y/N: "I had no idea what he was planning until one day he took me to Papa and Sister Imperator for an emergency meeting."

Aether requested a meeting to ask that they make an exception to allow Y/N to go on tour with them. While Sister Imperator was completely against the idea, Papa was all for it. Having a more the merrier attitude and openly welcoming Y/N on tour with the band.

Aether: "It was great. We went on tour and I got to spend all the time with Y/N I wanted. The bus life got a bit more tolerable. We would spend hours laughing and talking. Not to mention other things (wings) it was seriously one of the best times of my life but then things got interesting." (cringes)

One night on the bus, less than a year into Aether and Y/N relationship things take a turn.

-reenactment-

Aether, Swiss, and Cirrus are hanging out on the small sofa across from the pull down table where Y/N and Cumulus were seated. The group was laughing, seeming to be enjoying their time together when Y/N begins to notice something is wrong and the look on her face says she's having immense pain.

Y/N: "I started to get the worst belly pain I had ever felt in my entire life. I thought maybe I needed to get sick. I wasn't sure so I went to stand up and then I started leaking everywhere."

Y/N started experiencing debilitating pain and upon standing she began leaking fluid from between her legs. A sight that stirred up the crowd.

-reenactment-

Y/N is doubled over in pain. Cirrus is screaming for Mountain, who's driving the bus to pull over. Copia is passed out in the passenger's seat with his headphones in. Aether goes to Y/N's side and it becomes very obvious to them now what is happening.

Aether: "I knew immediately what was happening. I've seen it before but usually it doesn't take this long with ghouls kits. But as soon as I saw her water break, My tail stood straight up and I knew I had to get into gear."

-reenactment-

"Ok Y/N, don't panic but I'm pretty sure you're in labor." -Aether

"Aeth what in heaven are you talking about? I can't be in labor, I'm not pregnant!-Y/N screams as she holds tight to her belly. The pains are clearly coming closer and closer together.

Mountain manages to pull the bus over, while the ghouls help Y/N to the bed as she is now unable to walk.

Aether: "Normally a ghoul pregnancy is about 3 months but a half ghoul kit was something a lot of us had no experience with and so everything was very scary. I had no idea what to expect. I was so afraid I was going to lose her." (sucks in his bottom lip, looks upset)

-reenactment-

Aether is sitting beside Y/N who is laying on the bed. The ghoulettes, Cirrus and Cumulus have checked and sure enough the head of the half ghoul kit is visible in the birth canal.

Y/N is scared, crying and holding on to Aether tightly as the ghoulettes work to get ready to deliver the half ghoul kit. The are rushing around gathering towels as the ghouls watch in awe at their determination.

Y/N: "I honestly didn't even know that the two of us could procreate. Looking back on it I feel so stupid for not even knowing simple things like that or paying better attention. I could have been more prepared. Though I am so very thankful to the ghoulettes for all their help."

-reenactment-

The ghoulettes get Y/N into position to deliver the kit. Papa walks in, after Mountain finally alerts him that there was an issue, and gets an eye full of the business end of Y/N and the ghoulettes trying to help deliver the baby.

"Well uh…oh..sweet Lucifer. I shouldn't be here."- Copia

"No, don't leave!"- Aether

Aether begs Papa Emeritus IV to stay as Y/N begins to push. Papa is cringing as he holds Aether's hand looking as if he may pass out. Aether is also holding Y/N's hand as she begins to push.

Copia: "I honestly did not understand why I needed to be there. I was happy for Aether and the sister, but I won't lie...I almost didn't make it." (nervously laughs)

-reenactment-

Cumulus looks up to Y/N as she puts her hands on the baby's head.

"Ok Y\N you're doing great! The kit is almost out."- Cumulus

"Oh sweet Satan, it hurts! Aeth I'm going to kill you for this."- Y/N

"Babe I'm so sorry." -Aether (panicking)

"Ok I think one more push ought to do it!"- Cumulus

Y/N buckles down squeezing Aether's hand hard as Cumulus and Cirrus help. Copia looks like he's about to descend to the floor. Swiss and Dew are pacing just outside the door and Y/N is crying uncontrollably.

Y/N delivers the unexpected half ghoul kit/human child in the back of the tour bus on Papa Emeritus IV's bed.

-reenactment-

Y/N and Aether are swooning over the baby. Both looking absolutely exhausted but happy. The ghoulettes are smiling and laughing. Everyone, excited that the baby made it into the world ok. Dew is seen standing next to Copia and giving him a slap on the back.

"Good luck getting those stains out of your sheets."- Dewdrop (Sodo)

Baby Nimbus is born at what is considered full term for a Ghoul/Human pregnancy, weighing at 7lbs 11oz with no complications.

Y/N: "I was so happy she was born safely and that Aether and I are now a family."

Aether: "It went from being absolutely terrifying, to being one of the best moments of my entire life all within a few seconds. I only wish we would have known so he could have made Y/N less scared and upset during the labor. Thankfully Cumulus and Cirrus were amazing. Oh and Papa for holding my hand." (laughs nervously)

Copia: "You know I could not feel my fingers for 2 weeks after that, which was very unfortunate for a certain Sister of Sin...but I am glad everything worked out. Nimbus is adorable. Kinda makes me want one of my own." (Laughs nervously)

Y/N must have conceived around the same time she fell into depression over Aether leaving on tour.

-reenactment-

Flashback to the scenes with Y/N in bed and not opening her birth control.

Y/N: "Looking back I should have known there was something weird going on, especially after I missed my pills. But I just never really thought it would happen. No one had ever told me that ghouls and humans could reproduce before. A very happy surprise." (smiled)

Aether: "Now that we know, we are extra careful if you catch my drift." (laughs)

Now baby Nimbus is 9 months old and doing well.

-now-

Aether is back for a short break from the Imperatour. Y/N and Aether are holding hands while the little one who has very light gray skin with slightly shorter tail and pointed tipped ears is playing with her tea set in the middle of the floor in the siblings common area. The baby is cooing and smiling as she plays with her toys.

Y/N: "I love them both so much and I'm so grateful to Lucifer for the blessings he has bestowed upon us."

Aeth: "I couldn't have asked for a better mother for my kits. We look forward to one day being able to give Nimbus a sibling. Hopefully while daddy isn't on tour." (laughs)

The ghoul and the sister are doing well now that they have settled back into domestic life. Aether will be heading out for the second half of the tour for the album cycle soon but he knows his love and his daughter are in good hands. So how could Y/N not have known she was pregnant.

Y/N: "I got my period, I didn't have much of a bump at all, and honestly I had no idea it was even really possible."

Copia: "Now we have it in the new sibling handbook that a pregnancy between a sibling and a ghoul is very possible. We will not be having anything like that happen again. I had to replace the entire mattress." (laughs nervously as he tries to fist bump the producer)

Aether: "I just love them so much and I wouldn't have had it any other way."

Episode ends on Aether and Y/N swinging baby Nimbus on the swing set In the churchyard as the other children of the Abbey play around them.

Phew the end! Lol

[honeyedwordsandblades]

Was writing out tags on agothorn's post about Astarion/Tav and how Tav could've been another Sebastian if they had met Astarion before but I got pretty carried away and instead wrote not an essay but a whole goddamn novel??? And did u know Tumblr only lets you put 30 tags top on a post? (And it still wasn't enough, lmao whoops.)

So here are those tags, a bit reformatted to be a text post instead. Thank you in advance if you decide to go on this crazy ride of my dumb ramblings!

--

Honestly, I imagine when they get down there and see all the vampire spawn, all his previous targets/victims (and the other six's I'm sure), Rose immediately thinks back to the beginning of their journey together. Of the early days where she was so smitten and head over heels for Astarion, without really knowing him or his past.

And looking at all his past victims, all in front of her (especially with his interaction with Sebastian), she immediately realizes that if they had met another way, if they had met before the mindflayers kidnapped them all, she would have also been so easily manipulated and played. Lured just like the rest of his victims straight to Cazador. Like a lamb to slaughter. Like a fool lured straight off a cliff. And so happily too. So blissfully unaware and ignorant of her awaiting inevitable fate.

She knows, in that instant, if they had met before instead of when they did, she'd be down here with the rest of his victims. And, more than likely, afterward he would've just completely and entirely forgotten about her. Assumed her dead and had been done with it.

She wouldn't even be a ghost of a memory to haunt him for eternity, for the rest of his undead life. She'd been nothing to him.

(I'd like to believe that wouldn't be true though. He'd remember her just like he remembered Sebastian. Another poor innocent soul that, in their very short time together, she would have undoubtedly left quite the impression and mark upon him. He would always remember her. And, yes, she would absolutely haunt him for the rest of his undead life. Such a naive girl with such a big loving caring heart. How could he ever forget her? And her soft brown-hazel eyes and her lovely up-done brown hair. And the biggest smile he's ever seen. All just for him. Because of him. He'd never truly forget her. But I digress (too much). We're talking about Rose's point of view not Astarion's, lmao.)

She'd mean nothing to him as he found a way to usurp Cazador (if he was able to at all otherwise. But assuming if he did.) and would so easily and readily sacrifice her and all his and his "sibling's" victims in order to become the ~Vampire Ascendant~ .

Because she would mean nothing to him. Or, at least, (after seeing his panic and slight hesitation after talking to Sebastian) he would try to make himself believe that. Push away all the rising guilt suddenly trying to claw itself up from his dead heart and out his throat. Push it all down, hoping it would return from whence it came and just shut up and never return. That this is what he wants. What he's always wanted. (Right?)

And, after they speak with Sebastian, Rose would speak with Astarion personally. An argument as 'old as time' (i.e. as long as their relationship has been) started fresh and anew once more. About Astarion doing the ritual himself. And she would say in no uncertain bitter terms all that i've described above to him, to his face.

And maybe he's thought about it before. About how easy a target she would've been. How she would've been another poor lost soul. Gone. Disappeared into the night. Far from reach from family, from friends, from anyone and everyone. So easily snatched from her life. Not a trace of her to be found. Almost like she never existed. (But he would remember her. Gods, her smile. Her eyes. She would haunt him.)

But now, after seeing Sebastian, seeing all his victims in front of him... Discovering that they hadn't died and were very much (horribly) alive and undead, vampire spawn just like him and his 'siblings'. All of them connected to him, not just as his past victims, but through carved scars just like the one on his back. All for this grim infernal ritual where they would all be sacrificed (including himself if his plan to kill and usurp Cazador in the ritual didn't succeed).

But now presented with Rose's theoretical... To imagine her right alongside Sebastian and all his other victims, in just as terrible and poor a state as they are. And, instead of seeing her lovely brown-hazel eyes, being meet only with undead vampiric red burning straight into his soul... It instantly sends a chill down his spine. And it makes him sick to his stomach to even think, to even imagine such an image.

But Rose presses on, despite his reaction, despite the clear look of horror that passes on his face. And brings his imagination further. Spelling out as clear as she can exactly what her fate would end up being if she had been one of his victims. If he took up the ritual in Cazador's place- She would die. Right alongside all the other vampire spawn. They were meant for sacrifice after all. And that's the role they and, more importantly, she would serve.

He'd have everything. And she would be dead.

Sacrificed for the power he would then have.

He's too stunned to speak, but he knows what she's doing. Her manipulations are too obvious. But perhaps that's the point. She's not trying to manipulate him, she's trying to persuade him. Or better put, she's pleading. Begging him to see the terrible horror of the atrocity he's planning to commit. (As if he doesn't already know. As if he didn't know it all along. Although, admittedly, not at this scale. It was only 6 before, not 7,000.)

All by placing herself in the role of one of his victims.

And he has to admit: It's working.

He'll try to reason with her (twist and manipulate it back). That she's not. And, besides, he's doing it for both of them. So they can both be safe. With such power he can-

She huffs exasperated, disappointed. And she's already shaking her head. Somehow disbelieving that he's coming up with the same excuses as he always has.

But he knows they both heard his voice as he spoke. Quivering, uncertain. Clearly reaching, relying on old scripted justifications. But he still clings tightly to old hopes, old plans.

And, here and now, just before the end, just before the finale, is when she finally pulls out the ultimatum she's been mulling about for ages.

He must not go through with the ritual. If he does... She will ensure he never takes it.

She stares straight into his eyes as she tells him. Eyes (and heart) hardened. Walls up. Back straightened. Looking at him defiantly.

The look of a Hero.

He's only seen her do it a few times before but never to him. And now that she is... Now that he's on the other side of it. Well, he won't lie. A cold feeling of fear runs down his spine. He knows when she's like this that she means every word she says and will absolutely commit to it.

Before he can even speak, she softens, breaks. Pain written plainly across her face.

Ever so softly, she pleads with him not to go through with it (the ritual). She admits she doesn't want to, but she will- end him (What a nice way to say "kill him where he stands". Almost like she can't even bring herself to say it.) And he fully believes her.

Her earlier pleading, her theoretical, may have (deeply) shaken him, but this- This ultimatum... certainly gave him pause.

Although not as much as her next words.

"Please don't make me kill you."

Hushed, soft. An almost whisper that, well- metaphorically speaking, kills him on the spot. Like a stake to his undead heart.

The image of him beginning the ritual and her swinging her sword, one good ol' swing through his neck, his head suddenly gone enters his mind.

She would do it. He knows it.

Would he risk it? Attempt the ritual and, if he succeeds, if she doesn't chop off his head, beg for forgiveness? (Command her to forgive him even? He quickly pushes the thought from his mind.)

But staring into her pained, pleading eyes, her words still echoing in his mind like relentless ghosts haunting him, he knew his choice had been made.

Only a bit reluctantly does he promise her then and there that he would not go through with taking Cazador's place in the ritual. They would stop him and nothing more. Promise.

He can see that Rose is hesitant to believe him but she does relax some. Perhaps naively hoping that he had in fact come to his senses and was actually going to follow through with his promise. (After all, he's made promises before and kept them. Right?)

And he does.

(Although when he finally has the staff in his hands and he hesitates for just a small second, she's very kind to not bring up that moment later on.)

(And yes. She noticed. But after he continues on to save and free all the vampire spawns, both his siblings and those in the cells, she quickly forgets about it. All forgiven.)