#oh wait i think this is the plot of little mouse

[ghouljams]

König hunting down the sniper that shot him only to realize you'd be prettier mounted on his cock than mounted on his wall

[meganegatari]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought. 

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

[qin-qin16]

My computer is possessed?! Oh, wait, it's just my out-coded skeleton boyfriend!

Summary: When some of your work in progress goes missing, you decide to start investigating whether your computer has a virus. That is until you realize that the few remaining works are of one character: Error Sans. cw: kinitoPET and creepypasta vibes, writer Reader, Ink is mentioned, Error is jealousy, again, comedy, Reader finally notices that something wrong is happening! (Part one) (Part two)

“I should really get a new chair..." You say slowly, tilting your head back and feeling your neck stretch — a habit that you keep indulging in, no matter how sore it makes your nape afterward. "Then again, I also need to buy some new pants... and a new mouse as well..." Your head rolls over your shoulders, and before you know it, you’re staring at the computer screen again.

Your fingers lightly tap against the table; pinky, ring, middle, and index. One after the other in a rhythmic sequence — until you mess up and clench your hand into a loose fist.

"Ink definitely wouldn’t say that; he’s just so clueless." And there you are, deleting an entire paragraph for the third time, unhappy with how your story is turning out. "Why did I have to write about this jerk again?"

Because he’s a complex character with many layers that can add depth to your plot. You can almost imagine yourself explaining it, wearing glasses with a raised finger — just like that nerd emoji meme.

Even though your explanation was spot on, you can’t help but huff in frustration, rubbing your eyes with your thumbs before looking back at the blank Word document.

“... Why is this so bright?” If you were standing in front of a mirror, you’d definitely see your pupils constricting; a slight burning sensation spreading across your eyes as your finger keeps clicking on the computer keys, the brightness rapidly dimming.

Before you can blink, you let out a slow hiss. The burning in your eyes, sharp against your sensitive irises, returns suddenly; and in front of you, seemingly amused by the situation, your computer screen is set to full brightness.

"What the hell?" you curse, quickly covering your eyes with your hands as you pull away from the screen. For a moment, all you see is complete darkness, with a few bright spots flickering in your vision.

Maybe it’s time to start using eye drops; your eyes probably wouldn’t hurt so much after hours in front of the computer.

"I must have pressed the wrong key..." That’s a possibility, if it weren’t for a little voice in the back of your mind whispering the steps you took moments ago; you definitely pressed the right keys and released them at the right moment to actually dim the screen. "Or did I think I clicked but really didn’t?"

Your head droops onto your shoulders — and a low grunt escapes your lips as you feel the muscles in your neck stretch, pulling your shoulder blades along with them.

You rest your face in your hands, then rub your eyes and look at the computer again between your fingers. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Your feet shuffle toward the table, the rolling chair getting stuck at some point. “I just need to finish at least this dialogue before I can finally shut this thing down with a clear conscience.”

In theory, it should be a simple task; in practice, not so much. Especially when the paragraphs you’ve already written keep getting erased-

"What the hell is going on?!" You couldn’t believe — or understand — what was happening right before your eyes: sentence by sentence, your fanfic was being quickly erased, line by line.

You quickly moved the mouse away from the document, clicking anywhere else in the browser to stop your writing from being deleted — which didn’t do much good. The cursor soon started moving on its own, spinning around the screen until it selected an entire paragraph and deleted it.

"What’s going on?!" you shout as you repeat the same action, clicking outside the browser to keep the cursor from going back to the document, sliding it left, right — anywhere to keep whatever was controlling your mouse away from your precious fanfic. "Is this what a hacker attack feels like?"

It’s the only explanation; unless the existence of ghosts is not just real, but they also have the ability to manipulate electronics and understand how the internet works.

Before you could think any more about it, the cursor had returned to the center of the screen — but this time, before it could delete any more of your text, you quickly took control of the mouse, dragging it to the red box in the corner of the window and closing it for good.

You didn’t even curse or shout afterward; your mouth stays slightly open, slowly widening enough to express your disbelief at what had just happened. Your eyes remained fixed on the computer, even as your vision grew increasingly blurry, much like the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

"What the hell was that? Was it some kind of virus? Or a hacker's prank? I didn’t share this document with anyone, so it must have been some damn hacker with no job doing something so messed up! But wait, what if it’s like those little computer avatars that are actually viruses messing with your documents and folders? Did I download something strange without even noticing?”

Your focus snaps back to the screen as a notepad file opens in the upper corner of your desktop.

HEHEHEHEHEHEH GOT YOU!

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, grinding your teeth together as your eyes scan the message in all caps again and again.

This was solid proof (at least for your stress-fried brain) that this was the work of a sadistic hacker, taking pleasure in your suffering. It was decided: you would take your computer to a specialist as soon as possible — hacker or not, you would get your precious computer back at any cost.

Banging your head against the desk — and grunting as the pain spreads across your forehead — you don’t even notice that the light on your webcam is on.

Tagging area, if you want to be tagged, just ask :D

@snastheskeleton64 @moon-and-fries @unamzi @something-random1-1-blog @lostsoulofdragon @notagamerlol @staryycheze

[cheriladycl01]

Best Secret Santa - The Grid x Driver Reader Part 2

Plot: in which everyone wants to have Y/N as their secret Santa because she is the best gift giver and never fails to make peoples day going above and beyond for it!

A/N: A Part 2 was heavily requested! I know it's very far from Christmas but still vibes :)

2024

You smile happily at the camera messing with Max and his cap changing the angle that it was sat on his head.

"So we've got you and Max opening your gifts together this time because of scheduling struggles etc. What an amazing year it has been for Red Bull again. P1 for Y/N the first woman in motorsport to be a World Champion and P3 for you Max. Amazing year, amazing team mates and we look forward to having you together for the next few years!" she smiles and you both nod, Max indicates for you to talk first and you nod.

"Yeah, I'm in shock. It was a difficult year. So many people were strong this year, Lando coming in 2nd. Mclaren had an amazing car this year and the battle was continuous for the whole year and you know I think it was way more enjoyable for fans this year" you smile knowing that some people last year didn't appreciate Red Bull's and Max's domination.

"Yeah you know I agree, I think it was a more difficult year this year as we can tell. I think we'll come back stronger in 2026 with Ford as our partner. But the disparity in race wins this year i can imagine was more enjoyable" Max admits with a nod and a smile at you, pulling you into a side hug, he'd become like your older brother in the time you'd raced with him.

"Yeah of course, and it was a crazy year. Even before the season started we had silly season begin with Lewis confirmed move to Ferrari, then the confirm of the Fredrick Vesti move to Mercedes in 2025. We then had Andretti finally be confirmed in the summer break after being rejected in Feb as a 11th team and Liam Lawson and Theo Pourchaire would join the grid, so for a year that we thought would be solid it really wasn't!" the F1 presenter exclaims looking between the two of you.

"Yeah i think everyone was shocked with everything that went on in February, and how the 2025 line up is looking but you know its a fast paced sport both on and off track" you smile and she pushes yours and Max's presents forward.

"Okay here we go, Secret Santa for Y/N and Max!" Max opens his gift first from Oscar, thanking him.

"Okay my turn! I'm kind of scared!" you say looking at the bag in front of you.

"Well theres another present to come as well but because of what it is, we have to wait to give it to you" the presenter asks and Max side eyes you, looking at your reaction as you reach into the bag.

You reach in pulling out a bag of cat treats and a little fluffy mouse toy. After a second of looking at the camera and presenter confused you turn to your team mate.

"I feel like this is from you..." you laugh, observing the treats and mouse toy. However, next second another F1 team member comes up next to you with a ball of fur in their hands making you flinch in shock.

"Oh my gosh, is that?" you ask looking at the little kitten now being placed in your lap. You look over at Max with tears in your eyes before you fully start to cry.

"Oh Y/N!" Max exclaims pulling you into a hug, not realizing you'd have this kind of reaction.

"I've been saying to Max for so long that I'm really lonely these days when i go home from races!" you smile holding the little grey British short hair cat up to observe him.

You hold him against your chest which he happily nuzzles into falling back to sleep.

"What are you going to call him!" the presenter ask and Max looks over in curiosity.

"My immediate thought was Red Bull, but I think that sounds a little silly. Hmmmm I'll call him Perceval" you smile, kissing the small cheek of the sleepy kitten.

"Is that a shout to Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc?" she smirks and your face reddens a little realizing you have in fact used Charles' middle name for your new cat.

"No, No! He's a British Short Hair, and I feel like Lord Perceval suits him as he's grey and knights wore silver armor!" you explain yourself giggling a little at the end as Max nudges you.

"Thank you so much Max, I don't think I'll be able to part from him so he'll have to come to all of my races with me!" you grin, pulling him into a hug, careful not to squish Perceval who is now rested in your lap.

*Flip*

"And here we have Mclaren driver Oscar Piastri who along with his team mate Lando Norris has had a fantastic year in 2024 and has managed to come P5 this year!" the presenter exclaims looking at Oscar.

“Yeah it's been a great season for Mclaren, you know and I'm really proud of Y/N for everything she's done this year you know not just as a driver but as a woman, she made absolute history today winning and taking the championship. I cant wait for 2025, i think with the new rules its going to be interesting to see how the grid changes up" Oscar smiles.

"Okay, so this is your second secret Santa. Here are the said presents!" the presenter says as a large Christmas themed bag is pushed forward.

He reaches into the bag trying not to spoil it by looking in there taking out the first nicely wrapped gift. He carefully unwraps it seeing a Papaya shampoo and conditioner set.

"Love that we are keeping on brand, it's actually very funny because my girlfriend has this exact shampoo set i think" he says observing it, looking to see if it was in fact Lily's choice for hair wash products.

"That wouldn't shock me, its a good brand and her hair always looks so smooth and shiny!" the presenter offers making Oscar blush a little and grin.

"Mmmm next gift feels a little heavier! Oh wow, a whole cricket set! This is between three people now, this is either Yuki, Lando or Y/N because they are the only people I've told about me getting into this again recently! My trainer and I when we go back to Australia normally will play as part of training!" he says observing the painted bat that was fully personalized to Oscar and what he liked.

"Wait, did Y/N paint this?" he asks looking at little things across the bat, everyone knew Y/N loved art in her free time and would always draw or paint for the drivers and the mechanics.

"You secret Santa did yes!"

"Then is has to be Y/N, i don't think anyone has the level of skill Y/N does!" he exclaims before placing the bat down lightly and moving onto the next gift.

"No way" he laughs pulling out a shirt that has that one smiley beluga cat meme on it that everyone compares Oscar to and a picture of Oscar smiling next to the cat.

"This is 100 percent Y/N, she is always saying i look like this damn cat!" he laughs.

"Okay final present is a bit of a odd one because we actually have to show you an announcement video... to show you the present. You've really got into Valorant recently correct?" the presenter asks and he nods with a confused look in his eyes, having no idea what's going on.

"Yeah, I've played COD for as long as i can remember with Logan, and I started playing with Lando. But Lando suggested Valorant with his friend Max who started to play it more. It's my fav game now!" he explains.

"Okay well here is the official announcement Riot will be posting in 3 weeks, first teaser to come tomorrow!" she exclaims before turning the laptop round to him.

On the screen it shows the head of riot talking about partnerships of 2025.

"As Red Bull very kindly sponsor us and our championship competitions, we are giving back by collaborating with Formula One Red Bull driver Y/N Y/L/N. She has created an agent with help of our graphic design team" he says and Y/N smiles.

"This is the second Australian Agent to come to the Agent Line-up and I'm very excited to be able to dedicate new Controller agent Ozzy to my close friend and fellow driver Oscar Piastri, he has been playing Valorant for quite a while so the character design is based off him" you explain after a cut in the video.

"Now please enjoy some gameplay footage of the new Australian Agent!" you say before it cuts to the reveal of the agent. And to Oscar's shock, the character does look a lot like him, its actually uncanny.

"This is such an amazing gift, I honestly don't know where she pulls all these ideas from... its insane how much she cares and listens to people. She's actually the sweetest person ever and I'm so happy to be able to drive with someone like her" Oscar smiles before the video moves to the next person.

2025

"Now unfortunately this wasn't a great season for you, or for team mate Max was it!" the presenter smiles sadly. You'd come P6 in the constructors while Max had come two above you in P4.

"Yeah I mean Ferrari really flew this season with two great drivers like Lewis and Charles, coming P1 and P2, obviously the Mclaren was just as quick if not quicker than last year so Lando is P3, Obviously Max in P4, the Mercedes was very quick this year hence George in P5. It was a risk with the new rules and using Ford as the supplier and the things we've got wrong we know what they are and we've fixed them for 2026 and I think we'll have better year" you sigh. Max was more consistent than you this year, but you were the only Red Bull driver to take a win this year, it was a rough year considering your 3 years of victories prior, but like Christian had said to the both of you, you live and you learn.

"That's amazing to hear! How do you feel Lewis getting his 8th?"

"I think his time in Mercedes had come to and end and I don't find it shocking that he's changed Ferrari for the better and will pave the way for Charles to become a World Champion!" you explain and she nods before pushing a bag lightly towards you.

"Onto more fun things, its that time of year that we all cannot wait for, its Secret Santa 2025!"

The bag was large but as she pulled the presents out she could see that they were wrapped awfully. She tried not to laugh as she separated out the gifts on the table observing each one.

"Okay, I'm liking the choice of paper, it's very festive. I'm going to have to give the person who wrapped these a wrapping lesson at some point though!" you giggle a little before tearing into number one.

"Omg! tickets to go see Captain America: Brave New World!" you exclaim.

"This either has to be my good friend Esteban Ocon, as a fellow MCU enjoyer or its my little brother on track, ie Mr America himself Logan Sargeant!" you ask looking up to the presenter who just giggled.

"Okay, next present is holy shit, tickets to Disney World!" you look up in shock.

"Look on the back who you are going with" she smiles.

"Tickets for me, you, Oscar and Lando! Logan oh my gosh you are so sweet you are literally the best person ever! Merry Christmas and I'll see you behind me on track in 2026!" you exclaim before the cameras cut out.

*Flip*

"George it's been a fantastic year for you coming in P5, and beating last years world champ! How does it feel?" she asks.

"Yeah, i think Y/N is a brilliant driver and its unfortunate Red Bull had as many faults as they did but that just goes to show how with her and Max it's not just the car its the driver as well. I think i would have quit half way through the season if i had as many issues as they did. But that just goes to show their resilience!" George says politely.

"Okay well, It's gift giving season and your secret Santa has most defiantly treated you!"

"Holy shit" he says turning to his left seeing the massive wrapped box and then a smaller bag next to it.

"I'm going to open the big one first!" he exclaims looking at it greedily.

"Of course you are" the interviewer laughs shaking their head.

"This is like, really expensive. No way!" he scans, after having torn the cardboard away from the state of the art bike sat in front of him, everyone knew George liked cycling, so this was a very nice gift.

"Oh and LOOK! It has mine and Alex numbers added together on it" he observed running his hand over the cyan colours, making out as though its a piece of art!

"Okay next one, is these two in this little bag, we have... ooo this is pretty heavy! It's oh okay its a book, The Art of George Russell: Every Shirtless Photo of George Russell!" he introduces before flicking through it showing the book to the camera, there was little personalized annotations on each photo inside.

"I love this so much, I know its Y/N whose got this for me because she has such a unique and interesting sense of humor, hmmmmm there's got to be another joke" he says before reaching further into the bag to pulling out a smaller and lighter gift.

"A Williams hat, and a .... Brazilian Flag Key Chain. Even though these are Y/N's joke presents they are always still so thoughtful. My time in Williams taught me so much that I carried through into Mercedes with me and Brazil was my first Win in Formula One, and it was really just special to me!" he exclaims smiling, placing the hat on his head before adding the key chain to his set of keys that he fished from his back pocket.

"Okay, last present George!" the presenter exclaims shoving a bigger bag towards him that had a bow tying it together.

He pulls open the bag spotting a few different unwrapped items.

"OH! This is a glamping set! Carmen has been begging and begging me for ages to take her camping in the Lake District as I used to do it all the time when we were kids, I tried to explain to her she wouldn't like camping as it gets kind of dirty. So this whole set is perfect!" he admits, looking through the tent, the air mattress and all the other little bits and bobs alongside it.

"Thank you so much for all of this Y/N i really really appreciate it all. I cant thank you enough!" he grins.

2026

"What a phenomenal year its been, we've had Lewis gain his 9th WDC, Y/N 2nd, Charles 3rd, Lando 4th and Max 5th!" the presenter smiles over to you.

"Yeah, I think we majorly fixed the issues we have last year, but I think we've still got some way to go and you know progress doesn't happen in one season so the on look for 27 is gonna be great!" you grin.

"Okay now it's all our favorite time of the year! It's secret Santa!" she comments and hands you the bag.

"Hmmmm, okay first gift these are..." you says as you pull out a wooden box with a carving on the top. You open it pulling on the metallic latch in the edge and spot inside custom chopsticks that had a red dragon going up the length.

"Oh woah, these are so beautiful, this has to be Mr Zhou Guanyu!" you grin holding them up to the camera holding your hand behind them as if you were one of the beauty influences showing of a blush or lipstick.

"Influencer era" you say making sure they could see every angle of them!

"Wait, can you guys get me anything I can test try them with?" you ask and you wait a little before some brings you out some dishes you could use your new chopsticks with.

"Mmm this is delicious!" you exclaim, and quickly finished up the food they'd provided you with.

"Omg these are crystals! Zhou and I were talking about these and the differences in meanings of the minerals"

You would always wear a good luck necklace in your races that got approved by the FIA when you first started racing. Everyone on the grid knew that you were into crystals and zodiacs, you'd have long conversations with Lando about the western Zodiac signs, and how him being a Scorpio worked well with your Y/S/S.

"These are really beautiful gifts, thank you Zhou! I absolutely love them and I will be sure to use the crystals at every race!" you grin smiling into the camera.

*Flip*

"Liam... Liam this will be your second secret Santa, you've had an amazing year in Racing Bulls and we cant wait to see what you do next year!" the presenter smiles looking towards the younger male.

"It's been a great second season in F1, I think after my years as a reserve driver i was starting to doubt myself but I'm glad that I'm here and racing!" he smiles back at her.

"Okay, so with your secret Santa, it's a little complicated. We're going to have to take you somewhere else to show you one of your presents. But here are the first few!" she smiles handing him a medium sized bag.

He reaches in taking out the first present which is a Lightening McQeen plushie.

"Ahhh, i think a lot of the drivers know my love for the man and legend himself, the reason i got into racing so this could be anyone” He reaches back into the bag to pull out a Red Bull team member top and water bottle.

"Oh!" He looks up in shock before laughing.

"This is definitely Y/N! She's helped me a lot through out the season and is helping me to progress each day! Thank you so much Y/N"

“Okay now if you’d kindly follow us, with this blind fold on we will lead you to the next present!” The presenter says offering him a blind fold. Off camera they walk him to the hotel elevator and out to the car park.

In front of him stands a red Chevrolet, with the number plate LM95 RBR which could either stand for Liam or the initials of his idol Lightening McQueen, with the cars number after it and then RBR for Red Bull Racing. Little did people know that you’d pulled a Lewis Hamilton 24.

Lewis was retiring after 28 season. He’d told you earlier, as it still wasn’t public knowledge. And Ferrari had come to you about the replacement, at first you were thinking you didn’t want to leave Red Bull, but a chance at Ferrari was everyone’s dream in this sport.

So you would be driving for Ferrari from 2029 onwards with Charles Leclerc as your partner, who also wasn’t aware about the move.

Obviously you had to tell the red bull team you were leaving and had pushed them to sign on Liam Lawson as their second driver, push him to be the new Max Verstappen and eventually take that number 1 seat when Max retires.

This is why you’d done the tease of the red bull merch towards Liam, and that’s why he looked shocked in the camera because you both were some of the only people aware.

“Okay you can take the blindfold off” the presenter says and he does, and tears build up in his eyes as he sees the custom painted red car in front of him. It was an older model, one that he could modify and make better which made it such a good gift as Y/N new he liked fixing cars as a hobby.

“This is probably the best gift and most thoughtful thing I’ve ever received! Oh my gosh I wish she was here right now” he says a little overwhelmed as he looks at the car.

“But I am, get in loser we’re going shopping” you shout sticking your head out the passenger side window of the car before you open the door getting out.

Liam runs over to you, pulling you into a huge hug thanking you for the gift. Cameras cut as the two of you inspect the car, pointing little details out that he may have missed.

2027

“What a season it’s been phenomenal we’ve had Charles Leclerc get his first WDC, we had Lando come 2nd with an insanely quick McLaren and he gave us a further contract extension till 2030 in his Papaya team! And you Y/N in 4th just a point behind Lewis Hamilton and a point ahead of George Russell. Great season! How do you feel!”

“Yeah I’m feeling great, there are so many names on the grid right now that it’s really spiced up the races and is having some great battles for podiums out there causing all kinds of wins! I’m proud of what we’ve done in Red Bull and can’t wait for another year!” You grin.

“Okay as usual onto presents, now this is an interesting one and I think you will enjoy who your Santa is!” She grins leaning in her hand as she watches you open it.

“Lots of Ferrari Merch, so it’s either Lewis or Charles, I want to lean towards Charles as the WDC this year! But you never know, is Lewis even in it this year? Oh my gosh did he rejoin?” You ask in shock!

“Okay what else have we got here, oh my gosh it’s a fucking Birkin bag!” You scream looking at the camera in shock. Obviously you were friends with everyone on the grid, it was just in your nature. So obviously you got talking to people about what you did and didn’t like. And when you were taking to Lewis, Carlos, Lando and Charles before a post race interview panel, you all got talking about fashion trends you liked. Hence the very expensive Birkin in front of you.

“This has to be from Lewis, but Charles was at the conversation where we talked about this bag, oh my this is difficult” you exclaims before you finalise its Lewis and you make a gesture of excitement for getting it right.

“Thank you everyone and a goodnight, I’m going to sexily walk away with my Ferrari merch tucked inside the Birkin” you whisper up close to the microphone before they capture you walking off in style.

*Flip*

“Carlos Sainz, you’ve been phenomenal in Audi this year how is the car staring to feel?” The presenter asks.

“Yea, I think you know in one season you cannot expect to get it right, but now that it’s our second year it’s coming along really nicely and I can see us being difficult for the 2028 season ahead” he explains well PR trained and ready for anything.

“Okay Secret Santa time! Let’s go” they say after continuing the small Audi on the ride debate.

“Yes I’m excited I see lots of presents for me, which can only mean uno persona, mi Amiga Y/N!” He exclaims and the presenter just rolls her eyes knowing people at this point know if they’ve been lucky and got you or if they have anyone else because of the vast presents around them!

“Okay well let’s see what Y/Ns got for you”

He proceeds to open a medium sized gift which is a jar of chilis that makes him laugh, as he observes the jar carefully.

“I shall give these to mi madre for cooking, she makes the best food with these chilis you’ll have to come try some time Y/N” Carlos says sending a wink towards the camera that fans would later go wild over.

“Oh this is heavier oh, oh it’s golf clubs and shoes, these are mmmm how does Lando say it, ‘lush’? Is that the word im looking for?” He asks coolly as he inspects the present.

He looks behind him, to see what looks to be just cardboard wrapped around something, he deems it in his head to be a canvas.

As he tears of the cardboard and bubble wrap, he’s met with a paining by you that he looked at and assumed must have taken you hours, of him stood by his race car for each year he had in F1. It was a huge canvas, one that looked like it belonged on a wall in a museum, the art on it did too.

“This is, wonderful. I don’t think I’ve seen something so good since Picasso himself” he admits continuing to look over the painting.

“Thank you for all of these gifts, I truly love them!” He admits.

2028

“So this year felt like 2024 all over again, we had the retirement of Lewis, and you are taking his seat in 2028 alongside Charles Leclerc in Ferrari, how does that feel Y/N!” The presenter asks and you smile.

“I think if you ask any driver what team they’d love to drive for before they leave it will always be Ferrari so the fact that I have the opportunity to drive for them in the next few years and try to win a championship again with them, I’d be honoured” you admit smiling.

“And now we know what last years secret Santa really meant for you when you gave Liam Lawson Red bull gear knowing he’d be driving for them in 2029 and last year, no wonder Lewis gave you his Ferrari merch, it’s because you are taking over his seat!” she asks and you just laugh and nod.

“We’ve had a fantastic year we’ve seen Lando take his first WDC, with Y/N coming in 2nd really trying to show her new team she is ready for them! While her team mate Max Verstappen didn’t have an amazing season coming in 7th” they answer and you clap and praise Lando saying how far he had come and how proud you were on him and how it was such an honor to drive on track with him.

“Okay anyway onto secret Santa Y/N!” She exclaims pushing a small bag towards you.

You grin opening it up, to be met with …. A bottle of WKD…

Very random.

“Okay so WKD is like a teen/young adult alcohol in the UK, so my thoughts would be on Lando, or like George maybe??” You ask before the interviewer has an evil and mysterious giggle on.

“So your secret Santa when you found out it was you, got a little nervous. So he prepared this recording for you, and one final present” the interviewer says before turning the laptop to you and shocking you see …

“Charlie?!! He’s my secret Santa?” You ask in shock.

“Hello Y/N, I will admit I panicked when I was given your name in secret Santa, I’ve had a crush on you since way back in the karting days when I first met you. So, as your secret Santa, my other gift to you, is a date with me! I also hope you like the final present I made for you! I cannot wait to be your team mate, and maybe more if I’m lucky in the future”

The camera pans back to you and your face in bright red, an unflattering blush in your already sun kissed face.

“Here’s the other present” the presenter says tentatively pushing forward a neatly wrapped presents, the work for sure of Pascale Leclerc.

You open up the contents finding the original CD case you’d give him, for his secret Santa back in the day. You open it up seeing a cd and a slip of paper fall out. On the paper we’re all the song titles which had something to do with you, or your career.

He’d quiet literally placed your life inside songs …. And that was quiet the gesture.

“What a whirlwind of a year 2029 will be huh!” You joke before the cameras cut off!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane

[anonymousewrites]

Apple of My Eye Chapter Nineteen

Harry Hook x Child of Snow White! Reader

Chapter Nineteen: That's How You Know

Mouse Note: I'm back!

Summary: Harry and (Y/N) are both growing aware of just how strong their feelings are.

            “Hey, Harry,” said Evie, peeking her head into Uma’s room where her crew could almost always be found. “Can you go and find (Y/N) for me? I need to go over some designs for them Reunion Ball outfit.”

            “I don’t know where they are,” said Harry.

            “Apple Cottage,” said Evie. “There are signs. Thank you!” She left the room.

            “What are you waiting for? Go on,” said Uma. “Go and fetch your royal.”

            “They aren’t—”

            “Harry, you’re my first mate. I’ve known you since we were babies,” said Uma. “I know you. Go and get your royal.” She smirked. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even have the guts to ask them out.”

            Harry coughed, stood, and left without responding. A few moments later, Evie opened the door to the dorm again.

            “Did he go?” said Evie.

            “Oh, yeah,” said Uma. “Do you think this will help them admit each other?”

            “A romantic meeting in the woods by an idyllic cottage has better atmosphere than fencing, even if that’s good for flirting,” said Evie. She crossed her arms. “And if this doesn’t do it after weeks of hopeless flirting, then we’ll really step in. After all, I am really meeting with (Y/N) for their outfit.”

            “And Harry and I are helping Carlos set up decorations for the ball for Jane,” said Uma.

            “Good. Carlos has as great relationship with Jane. He’ll be able to help get Harry to confess or at least give him some ideas of how,” said Evie. “And Mal and I can work on (Y/N).”

            Uma laughed. “I haven’t had so much fun with a plot in a while.”

            Evie grinned. “Well, to get our best friends to date is a worthy cause.”

l

            “Highness?” said Harry, walking into the clearing of the woods.

            Apple Cottage, a small, quaint, and pretty little house, stood in the middle of the clearing. It was a replica of the dwarves’ cottage from Snow White’s life, and it was used for guests coming near Auradon Prep and (Y/N) when they wanted to get away.

            The door of the cottage opened, and (Y/N) stuck their head out. They smiled. “Harry.” They stepped outside. “I didn’t expect you.”

            “Evie is lookin’ for ya,” said Harry. “Somethin’ about clothes for a ball.”

            “Oh, right, I lost track of time,” said (Y/N). They brushed dust from their plane blue shirt. “I was cleaning up. I had a sleepover with some of the girls a few days ago.”

            Harry looked in through the door. “Nice place. Definitely a princess cottage.”

            “My mom wanted me to have something welcoming,” said (Y/N), chuckling. “Like how the dwarves welcomed her, I could be safe here.”

            “You mean ya aren’t at home at Auradon Prep?” said Harry.

            “I am,” said (Y/N). “But sometimes I want to be alone, get some privacy, that sort of thing. Being in a dorm can be tiring.” They chuckled. “So I come here.” They glanced at Harry. “You’re free to come here, too, if you need a moment away from everything.”

            Harry smiled slightly, softly. “Thanks. I do miss havin’ the ship to go to.”

            “You could ask Adrian to go out to eat with him. His family has a ship or two,” said (Y/N).

            Harry scowled. “No.”

            “He’d say yes,” said (Y/N).

            “Still, nah,” said Harry. He really wasn’t interested in going around with (Y/N)’s ex. It was the same way that Nazarin—Naveen and Tiana’s daughter—had flirted with him, he had immediately rejected her. Harry wasn’t going out with (Y/N)’s exes. No way. (Also, he had some irrational jealousy of that fact that they got even one date with (Y/N)).

            “At least ask Ben or Mal to find a ship,” said (Y/N). “You, Uma, and your crew could have some fun sailing. Maybe take a few of the Auradon kids, teach them.”

            “Would you come?” said Harry.

            (Y/N) smirked. “I could be convinced.” Harry grinned. “Now, I should get going before Evie comes down to get me. You should be scared when she offers to make you a suit.”

            “She did,” said Harry.

            “Good luck,” said (Y/N). “You’re living in her world now.” They laughed and dusted themself off again. “Pity I can’t change out of my cleaning clothes. Ah, well.”

            “Here.” Harry pulled off his red leather jacket.

            “Oh, no, you don’t need to,” said (Y/N) quickly.

            “Come on, Highness, take it. I know ya want to,” said Harry. He winked. “And you’ll look dashing in it.”

            “Flattery, how original,” teased (Y/N), but they did take the jacket and slip it on.

            “Damn, Highness, quit lookin’ so good in me clothes. Can’t take ‘em back now that I know ya look so good,” said Harry.

            “I’m not letting you give me your closet,” said (Y/N).

            Harry slung a hand over their shoulder. He winked. “Just sharin’ my good taste with ya.”

            “Good taste? You have a high opinion of yourself,” laughed (Y/N).

            “Well, I like you,” said Harry. “Don’t I?”

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and Harry grinned.

l

            (Y/N) walked into their appointment with Evie. “Oh, Mal, hi,” they said, smiling. “It’s nice to see you taking a break.”

            “After what feels like a thousand meetings, I need it,” laughed Mal.

            “Up on the podium, I’ve got to drape you,” said Evie, getting straight to business. She paused and smiled. “What’s this I see? Harry’s jacket?”

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed. “I have a little bit of dust everywhere from cleaning Apple Cottage. He knows that I like to look presentable.”

            “So it wasn’t a romantic gesture?” said Evie.

            “No,” said (Y/N), cheeks now on fire.

            “Of course it was,” said Mal. “Harry—even good Harry—doesn’t do stuff like that.” She leaned forward on her arm. “I think he likes you. Really.”

            “Not you, too,” said (Y/N). “Evie teasing it bad enough—”

            “We both have True Love, we know when we see it,” said Evie, folding the jacket and putting it aside. She tutted. “If only one of you would be honest.”

            “…You told him to come and get me at Apple Cottage,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms, unimpressed.

            “Guilty,” said Evie in a sing-song voice. “But it’s for a good cause.”

            “Maybe I should cast a truth spell on you both,” said Mal, grinning.

            “Mal!” exclaimed (Y/N). Mal burst out laughing. They groaned and buried their head in their hands. “I just—He’s teasing and open with everyone. How do I know he loves me?”

            “Love?” said Evie with a smile.

            “You love him?” said Mal with a soft look in her eyes.

            “…I do,” admitted (Y/N). It had snuck up on them for so long, but they did love Harry. They could only hope it was true.

«

            “Where’d your jacket go, Harry?” said Uma, raising a brow as Harry arrived.

            “Highness has it,” said Harry.

            “(Y/N)?” said Carlos, smiling slightly.

            “Yes,” said Harry. He rolled his eyes at Carlos’s tone. “Get ya mind outta the gutter, dogboy.”

            “I wasn’t suggesting anything,” said Carlos, holding up his hands. “I’m just saying, I only give my clothes to Jane, and she’s my girlfriend.”

            “It’s called being charming, not that ya’ve hurt of it,” said Harry.

            “Uh-huh,” said Uma, smirking. “Harry, you’ve never tried to be charming in your life.”

            “I’m a charming, attractive pirate,” said Harry.

            “For (Y/N), maybe,” said Uma. “We all know it.”

            “That obvious?” said Harry.

            “Yeah,” said Carlos, patting Harry on the shoulder. “But, hey, (Y/N) is a great person. So it’s not bad.” He smiled. “And they definitely like you back.”

            “Highness can do better than me,” said Harry. “Ima a pirate. They’re a royal.”

            “They’ve never cared about that stuff,” said Carlos. “They were the first person to be nice to us, outside of Ben. They’ve always judged people on their heart.”

            “And me cold heart’s enough?” said Harry, dubious.

            “Harry, would they banter with you if they didn’t like you?” said Uma. She put her hands on her hips. “Buck up. Put your brave pirate hat on and tell them.”

            “Yeah. You just need to show them you like them,” said Carlos, smiling.

            Harry looked between Carlos and Uma. “How do I show them I love them?’

            Carlos grinned. “You love them?”

            “If a villain can love—”

            “Have you seen Mal and Ben or Doug and Evie? VKs have a lot of love to give,” said Uma, laughing. “Come on, Harry. Be honest.”

            “I love them,” said Harry softly, the words so honest as they spilled from his heart. He had been entranced by them the moment he met (Y/N), yet the word of love had grown like a flame—an ember that grew into a roar. It felt so natural to say it, like it was meant to be. He could only hope that it was meant to be.

            “So, tell them,” said Uma.

            “Show them you love them,” said Carlos.

            “What if they don’t love me back?” said Harry.

            “You’ve got to show them, first. They’re probably—”

            “Definitely,” interjected Uma.

            “—as nervous as you,” said Carlos.

(Carlos) “How do they know you love them? How do they know they’re yours?”

            Uma hit Harry on the shoulder.

(Uma) “How do they know that you love them? How do you show them you love them?”

            Harry rubbed his shoulder as Uma put her hands on her hips and Carlos smiled at him. Uma might not know love, but she knew action, and Carlos knew the heart. They were going to teach Harry a lesson.

(Uma and Carlos) “How do they know that you really, really, truly love them?”

            They circled Harry as he watched them in surprise.

(Uma and Carlos) “How do they know that you love them? How do you show them you love them? How do they know that you really, really, truly love them?”

            Carlos jumped onto a decoration for the ball—a podium for taking photos for friends. It was covered in flowers, and he leaned against it romantically.

(Carlos) “It’s not enough to take the one you love for granted, You must remind them or they’ll be inclined to say—”

«

            (Y/N) sighed as Evie draped fabric over them and Mal smiled.

(Y/N) “How do I know he loves me?”

«

            Uma stepped towards Harry.

(Uma) “How do they know that you love them? How do you show them you love them?”

«

            (Y/N) looked at Evie and Mal as Evie pulled the fabric back and it floated like a bird through the air, as gentle as the love in (Y/N)’s heart.

(Y/N) “How do I know he’s mine?”

«

            Uma tapped Harry on the chest, a commanding captain.

(Uma) “How do they know that you really, really, truly love them?”

            Harry frowned.

«

            Evie picked up a collection of notes from Doug.

(Evie) “Well does he leave a little to tell you, You are on his mind?”

            “He gave me his sash to think of him,” said (Y/N).

            Mal held up a bouquet of flowers from Ben.

(Mal) “Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey? Hey~”

            “He grabs me my favorite food when I’m late to meals,” said (Y/N).

            Evie and Mal each put a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder and smiled into the mirror.

(Evie and Mal) “He’ll find a new way to show you, A little bit every day!”

            They looked at (Y/N), and Evie gestured to the pirate jacket. Mal squeezed their shoulder with a smile.

(Evie and Mal) “That’s how you know, That’s how you know, He is your love!”

            (Y/N) laughed, and their cheeks warmed.

«

            Carlos spun around on the podium and pointed at Harry.

(Carlos) “You’ve got to show them you need them, Don’t treat them like a mind-reader, Each day do something to lead them, To believe you love them.”

            He pulled a loose rose from the display and tossed it to Harry. He caught it and stared at it. One way to show his love could be gifts—like a jacket. Like a rose.

«

            (Y/N) fell back from the dais, and Mal and Evie lowered them to the ground. They smiled at each of the girls, took the fabric, and draped it dramatically around themself. They danced and spun, the skirts swirling around them in waves like the sea.

(Y/N) “Everybody wants to live, Happily ever after, Everybody wants to know their true love is true!”

            They dropped the fabric and looked at Mal and Evie with a lovestruck and hopeful look in their eyes.

(Y/N) “How do you know he loves you?”

«

            Uma pointed at the rose and gestured to the variety of flowers around them.

(Uma) “How do they know that you love them? How do you show them you love them?”

            Harry needed to really show his heart to (Y/N), show that his feelings went beyond friendship, show his love.

«

            (Y/N) picked up the jacket and spun with it. Mal and Evie laughed at the loving look in (Y/N)’s eyes as they held the item close.

(Y/N) “How do you know he’s yours?”

«

            Uma pulled out more flowers from the buckets ready for display and pressed them into Harry’s arms. Carlos pulled out paper and a ribbon to tie the bouquet together.

(Uma and Carlos) “How do they know that you really, really, truly love them?”

«

            Mal took the jacket while Evie took (Y/N)’s hands. She spun them around and swayed with them, hugging their back to her front. (Y/N) laughed.

(Evie) “Well, does he take you out dancing, Just so he can hold you close?”

            “He asks me to fence, and we get close with that,” said (Y/N), smiling slightly. Evie squeezed them tighter in encouragement.

(Mal) “Dedicate a song with words meant just for you?”

            “I’m the only one with a nickname,” said (Y/N) slowly.

            Mal grinned. Evie squeezed (Y/N) and let them go. Steadily, they were going to get Harry and (Y/N) to realize their interactions were anything but platonic.

(Mal and Evie) “He’ll find his own way to tell you, With the little things he’ll do, That’s how you know, That’s how you know he’s your love.”

            Evie took (Y/N)’s hands from the front and smiled at them.

(Evie) “He’s your love.”

            She sang softly, trying put all the honest words and truth of Harry’s feelings into (Y/N)’s heart.

(Evie) “That’s how you know he loves you, That’s how you know it’s true!”

            She spun (Y/N) and grinned at them. Mal caught them from the spin and draped the jacket over their shoulders.

(Mal) “Because he’ll wear your favorite color, Just so he can match your eyes.”

            “I do like red,” said (Y/N), smiling.

(Mal) “Rent a private picnic by the fire’s glow, Oh!”

            “He customized a sword for me for fencing,” said (Y/N) fondly. “That way I always have one to use.”

(Mal and Evie) “His heart will be yours forever, Something every day will show!��� (Evie) “That’s how you know!” (Mal) “That’s how you know!” (Evie) “That’s how you know!” (Mal) “That’s how you know! (Evie) “That’s how you know!” (Mal) “That’s how you know—” (Evie and Mal) “That’s how you know he’s your love!”

«

            Carlos and Uma pressed the finished bouquet into Harry’s arms—flowers of red, yellow, and blue wrapped in white paper and tied with a golden bow.

(Carlos) “That’s how they know that you love them.”

«

            Evie and Mal hugged (Y/N) and swayed them to the music, leading them in a dance.

(Evie and Mal) “That’s how you know!”

«

            Uma squeezed Harry’s hands closed around the bouquet.

(Uma) “That’s how you show them you love them.”

«

            (Y/N) laughed and joined in, twirling with the jacket of the man they loved held tight around them.

(Evie, Mal, and (Y/N)) “That’s how you know!”

«

            Carlos danced around Harry, nudging him forward towards the door and demonstrating how to bow and give the flowers with exaggerated movements to the beat of the song.

(Carlos) “You’ve got to show them you need them.”

            Harry held out the flowers to Uma, no ceremony, and she rolled her eyes.

(Uma) “Don’t treat them like a mind reader!”

«

            Mal and Evie took (Y/N)’s hands, took each other’s, and they danced in a circle.

(Mal, Evie, and (Y/N)) “That’s how you know!”

«

(Uma) “How do you know that you love them?”

            Harry tried again, bowing and offering the flowers with all the love in his heart—because he did love (Y/N)—and Uma and Carlos nodded approvingly.

(Carlos) “That’s how you know that you love them!”

«

            Mal and Evie hugged (Y/N) close, and they laughed.

(Mal and Evie) “He’s your love!”

«

            And, at the same moment that Uma and Carlos grabbed Harry to haul him towards Evie4Hearts, Mal, Evie, and (Y/N) smile and threw their arms up.

(All) “It’s not enough to take the one you love for granted!”

Taglist:

@neenieweenie

@hampterfae

@american-idiot-jpg

@lunalixya

@roo024

@unholycheesesnack

@paastaboi

@lbee13

@rory-cakes

@theeghosted

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@echoheartza

@pain-in-the-ashe

@sugarrush-blush

@sanaxo-o

@ara-theo

@zomb-1-egutzz

@simpy-simpin

[mischieffae]

When I saw you had requests open, I just had to JUMP on the opportunity! I have two ideas, but I'll leave them separately.

Hannibal x (preferably female) reader who also happens to be a serial killer. However, think more Joe Goldberg combined with Amy Dunne vibes. She's got a bad past, but when she moved to Baltimore under a new identity as a lawyer (I just like the irony but she could do any job you feel like) she's very determined to leave that life behind her. To be better.

Hannibal just knows she's not as honest as she portrays herself to be. He's a psychiatrist, after all, and goes digging to figure out what she's hiding. I feel like that type of plot can go two ways, rivals, constantly suspicious of each other, trying to cover up their own tracks before the other catches them (She's 100% slightly scared of him once she figures out he's also a wolf in sheep's clothing, with no intention reform like her) or an unlikely partnership (if Hannibal is persuasive enough), or both!

Agh, ik, it's so plot heavy, but I need to get it out somewhere.

Thank youu

~◇~

// I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy!! I love how this was already planned for me. ❤️

Imposter

pairing: hannibal x f!reader

warnings: mention of gore, slight mention of non-con, hannibal being a flirtatious psychopath, cat & mouse, mind manipulation

The life you had before was all in the past now, a reminder of what you had almost become yet it still lingered in the back of your mind with its sharp claws. Tap, tap, tap against the hollowness of your skull as if taunting you to return to that depraved place.

Remember what you did ? Those screams of torment as you etched away the victim's last piece of sanity.

You didn't have a knife at the time, only a shard of glass from the bathroom's mirror. & all that blood - oh, how beautiful it painted on alabaster tile flooring, as if you were a painter with a canvas. The smell of copper always tickled your nostrils in the best way, more of the smell emitting with each precise cut you inflicted upon the poor person's body.

The sharp banging of the judge's gavel brought yourself back into the present, sweat slightly beading on your forehead. How long has it been since you had those vivid thoughts? It seemed like a century ago, but in reality it had only been a couple of years. You were determined to start over, start a brand new life with a brand new career. A lawyer, of all jobs. How typical. You wanted to bring justice back into your life, to mask your true intentions in hopes of it completely going away someday.

But perhaps the past wasn't shrouded in darkness.

There was a slip-up of course, not too long after you had your little incident in the court room. A man of foul intentions had followed you home one night after a long day at the office, cat-calling you with each drunken stumble he took in your direction. You tried to ignore him, body tense with each stride of your clicking heels against wet pavement. Perhaps going down one of the alleyways wasn't the best idea, but you had thought you had lost him by the time you took that sharp turn.

Of course such plans did not go accordingly, & the drunkard had found you like a cat waiting to feast upon the frightened mouse. He had found a way to wrap his arms around your trembling frame, a hand lifting to cover your mouth as you attempted to yell your strangled pleas. It was enough to send you over the edge, that little girl who so desperately wanted to change her life now taking a back seat as you began to feel that urge running through your veins.

Your hand dove into your coat's pocket to retrieve a metal pen, fingers wrapping roughly around its base before plunging the device into the poor man's eye socket. A small sigh in content escaped your lips against his sweaty palm when you heard his horrid cry of pain, that sweet sweet sound you had almost forgotten about. Now, it rang through your ears beautifully, his body then slumping to the ground while he held his eye with hitching sobs.

"Please - ....I-I'm sorry... I'm..."

That was all you needed as you then plunged the pen into his skull once more, then another.....and another....until that drunk face was unrecognizable. Until that damn bastard was a pile of filthy flesh upon cold stone. & that smell of copper, it made your skin crawl with delight as you sighed in content.

But it was then as if reality hit you, your body trembling as you gazed downward with rapid gasps of adrenaline. No, no, no...You were good, you were normal again.

You had to see him.

-------------------------

Blunt nails tapped against that familiar leather chair with nervousness, your teeth grazing upon your bottom lip as you gazed around Dr. Lecter's extravagant office. He took notice of your hesitance, fingers ceasing to write down his notes while gazing upward with curiosity.

"Something is on your mind..."

A matter of fact statement, your eyes meeting golden hues that you could've sworn began to swirl into a darker shade.

"Work was just -....a lot today."

You hoped your little lie would go unnoticed, however you failed to cover the small patch of blood on the outside of your palm. Hannibal took note of this, licking his lips subtly before continuing.

"It is not work that is on your mind, is it? Something else seems to have your mind hostage."

A gulp formed in your tightening throat, your chapped lips forming into a shaky smile. It wasn't very convincing, & you knew of this. But, how could you inform him of your encounter earlier this evening? You had some suspicions of him, some little doubts that pecked in the corners of your mind from time to time. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, however you could feel that there was something off about your therapist.

Something...more omnious.

"I can assure you, Dr. Lecter, that it was just work today. Nothing more."

His lean frame lifted from his chair with an elegant stride, moving towards his art ridden desk while gliding his fingertips along his drawings.

"That is not what I suspect, judging upon the blood that lingers on your hand."

Shit -... you had forgotten about that little detail, your jaw clenching tightly from his observation. His eyes trail upward with a raise of his brows, those pursed lips forming into a small smile.

A smile? Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest, as if it were about to combust and fly out the window like a caged bird. You couldn't move, a deer frozen in fear as he began to walk towards you with a predatory aura.

"You do not need to hide from me, you do not need to HIDE what you truly desire."

He stops to stand before you on the chair, his body moving to kneel in front of you as if you were a rabbit that was easily startled. A thumb moves to glide gently upon your cheek, resting just below your bottom lip as he stares with interest.

"Have you killed before?"

That word made you gasp in response, fingers clutching the chair's arms with white knuckles. He has FOUND you, he can see you past that broken mask. A single tear runs down your cheek in defeat, a small nod forming while you whisper softly.

".....Yes.."

A satisfied hum sounds from him, a deep tone that makes your skin crawl. He brushes away that fallen tear, not wishing for it to drop upon the floor and go to waste. That hand moves to cup along your jaw in an almost lovingly manner, those haunting eyes finally meeting your teary ones.

"I can help you, little mouse. I can help you overcome your fears. Those voices in your head. If only you would allow me.."

Finally, someone can see the torment you have been dealing with for the past couple of years. Someone who UNDERSTOOD you. A broken sob sounds from you, a quivering hand reaching upward to grasp his wrist tightly, as if he were to disappear like an apparition.

"Please...Please Dr. Lecter..."

He had caught you, those claws sinking into your mind as his smile widened to show pearl teeth.

"You are not alone anymore....not without me."

[sky-kiss]

hello!! 👋😸 for prompt: how about raphael self-pleasuring himself (even to the point of refusing haarlep) thinking about tav 🤔

(do you have a kofi or anything similar, by any chance? i feel like thank you is not enough to express gratitude for all the incredible works you’ve created and shared with us 🔥💖🔥)

A/N: That’s so sweet! I don’t but thank you! The community is just lovely. And hopefully these silly ficlets make some people smile, that’s thanks enough. Or just tell me Joi is pretty. I accept that too. I’m a simple creature. Hiding some sin under the gif lol.

________

Raphael Solo: 18+:  He’s been waiting centuries for this, cut him some slack.

________

After two thousand years of living, he rarely acts on impulse. It's a mix of nature and nurture; the Hells ran off a ritualistically strict structure, an intricate web of plots weaving together to form its whole. The impulsive met an equally swift end. But there are moments, rare moments, where needs must.

The cambion releases a shuddering breath, his head tipped back against the pillows in the Devil's Den. It's a wonder he's made it here, his legs still weak, his head buzzing and pleasantly swimming from a cocktail of hormones and generalized satisfaction. Centuries of planning, scheming, and deals have all come to this: his masterstroke, his ascension. It's close enough to touch and taste. Raphael chews his lower lip, dizzy with it, beads of sweat tracking down his chest. 

Tav, his masterpiece. The final piece of the puzzle has only just left him. Their scent lingers in the Den. He remembers the feel of their palm, slight as it slipped into his, and the warmth of their skin. Oh, poor dear. Looking at him with such defiance, they put quill to paper, signing over their soul. Its energy is delicious. He feels the cords bind them to him and grows harder. 

He grunts, stroking himself. It's so easy to pretend it's their hand on him. Once they've brought him the Crown and assured his victory? Oh, that's a good thought. The cambion shifts his weight more comfortably, tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. In his mind, the hero of Baldur's Gate kneels before him, an act of reverence and loyalty. Perhaps they'd put their mouth to use.

Raphael purrs, a long, drawn-out "yes" filling the chamber. He rocks into his touch, long lashes fluttering against his cheek. Tav, eyes glittering with hunger, their hands on his hips, taking him down their throat. That sweet voice pitched in a whimper, all they could manage as he took. The Crown first and then everything they had left to offer. He swipes his thumb over his head, the muscles in his abdomen flexing. 

His little mouse. Focusing on their lingering scent, he drowns himself in it, the pleasure sharply building, building, until he finally spills over his hand. Raphael collapses back into the bed, breathing heavily. The image burned behind his eyes: Tav on their knees, staring up at him, his perfect creation. 

The cambion smirks, teasing his fingers through the spend on his belly. 

Perhaps, when the time comes, he will indulge in this fantasy. 

For their benefit, of course. They've been so good. Why shouldn't Raphael reward such loyal service? 

He is, after all, nothing if not magnanimous. 

[dreamkidddream]

Pulling Them in for a Kiss || Dazai, Gin, & Ango

It’s been too long since I wrote for BSD so please enjoy and reader is gender neutral!

CW: a teensy, tiny bit suggestive (tagging it just to be on the safe side)

Dazai

Dazai is usually the one to take initiative, and he’s very physical with his affections. He’s not afraid to hide it either, always planting kisses on you or pulling you into his arms at any moment

He’s not one to be caught off guard, and if he does it’s rare

He knew you were planning to do something when you approached him with a smile that seemed too sweet- but he’s curious to see what you’re trying to pull off. He won’t stop you

Just know that you’re playing a very dangerous game- and he isn’t one to lose

Dazai could feel your eyes on him, and he could picture the gears turning in your head. You’re obviously plotting something- but he’ll pretend to let you have the upper hand. Could this be revenge for the little stunt he pulled at your doorstep last night? More than likely, but he couldn’t help it- it was so fun to tease you and see your reactions!

An amused smile played on his lips as he thought about last night- how flustered you were getting from just a brush of his fingertips, the denial of it, how close he was to pressing his lips against yours…

It was a fun little cat and mouse game you both were playing. Even if you mistakenly thought that you were the cat, Dazai was still enjoying himself.

But he had to admit, his patience was starting run a bit thin at this game. And he was ready to be selfish-

“Dazai.”

“Hm?” You stood before him, arms crossed. You tried your best to not look bothered, nervous, but the way your fingers tapped away and the fidgeting that you’re trying to hide made it apparent that you’re planning something.

“Can you give me your report on the Hanako case? I’m ready to turn it in.”

“Well anything for you belladonna.” He collected the papers in one pile and held it out to you. He came off nonchalant, but he was watching your moves carefully- did you really think you could catch him by surprise? He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

When your fingers brushed his for the papers, he let his touch linger as he spoke up. “That can’t be all that you came over here for, is it?”

He smirked as he heard your breath catch. You’re so easy to rattle.

“No, actually-“ You softly put the papers back down, a flash of determination crossed your face.

“I’m finishing what you started.”

You pulled him by his bolo tie and smashed your lips against his. Dazai’s own eyes were wide as yours was tightly shut.

For once, he was caught off guard, and by the time he started to melt into the kiss and move to wrap his arms around you, you had already pulled away.

You didn’t look him in the eyes as you grabbed at the papers again, clearing your throat. Seems that you were still processing what you did yourself, “Now, if you excuse me-“

Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough.

You jumped when his wrist caught your arm, and you felt yourself being pulled back.

“Oh there you are-“

Kunikida stopped in his tracks, his words trailing off and a questioning look on his face.

You were trapped against Dazai’s chest, whose smile was unnerving and only making you sweat more.

Before Kunikida could even begin to ask what he was happening, Dazai was already pulling you away, claiming that there was a very important case that had to be solved that couldn’t wait any longer.

Gin

Gin’s senses are sharp- and they never fail her. Even when she’s not on a mission, she’s always aware of her surroundings, prepared for the moment when she needs to strike

But it still doesn’t stop her from getting flustered

Or rather- from you making her flustered

No one would have ever suspect that a high-ranking assassin like herself would be acting a schoolgirl being near her crush- and the same could be said for you

You love seeing Gin smile so much.

Honestly you just love seeing her.

She came off as delicate despite being able to easily end anyone with just a flick of her wrist. You would have never imagined that you would get this close to Gin- let alone fall in love.

Yet here you are, fingers itching to lace them with her own.

You chose a private space away from everyone else to watch the fireworks, high enough to get a good view and quiet to where you could admire her in peace. Just glancing at her now, raven hair cascading down her back with a soft smile with a glow from the flashing sparks- she always took your breath away, but this was to a new level.

And it awakened something in you.

“Gin.”

Her eyes flickered over to yours, and any hesitations that you had vanished in that very moment.

You clenched your fists and took in a deep breath, before willing yourself to grab at her hands.

She let out a small squeak, and could already see how flushed her cheeks were getting.

It was now or never.

Your eyes were shut tight when you pulled her forward and connected your lips.

Everything went still in that moment, and there were a million thoughts running through your head- how soft her lips were, how you can’t believe that you’re actually finally doing this-

When you pulled away, Gin’s face was completely flushed and head turned the opposite way. She couldn’t even look you in the eyes- not that you were brave enough to look at her either.

You were expecting her to move away and sprint to the other side, until you felt something on top of your hand-

You glanced down to see her fingertips meeting yours. You can see how they were slightly trembling, but she still laid them gently on top of yours.

Gin still wasn’t looking at you and vice versa, but it didn’t stop you from lacing your fingers together.

You both sat there gazing at the fireworks, while she gently gave your hand a squeeze.

Ango

Does Ango know anything besides work?

You’re a bit concerned- not only in how he works nonstop, but also in how little he was paying attention to you- it sounds petty, but it’s the truth!

It’s so easy for him to get consumed with his work with how much is weighing on his shoulders with his position, but you don’t want him to overwork himself either

Lucky for you- you knew how to make him take a break and a way for you to get your point across…

“Ango.”

“Just a second dear- I’m almost done with this report.”

You know that Ango has no simple job. The multiple hours that he puts into his work aren’t useless- it directly affects Yokohama, that much you know. But it wouldn’t do the city or Ango himself good if he keeps pushing him to the point of over exhaustion.

It’s been nights where he would tell you not to wait up on him and you do so anyway, seeing him crawl into bed mere hours before sunlight would come into your shared room. You were already concerned when it happened, and it only grew when it kept happening more.

There was to immediate threat that he had to focus on, yet Ango was never a procrastinator, already trying to be one step ahead of whatever problem would come next- which wasn’t bad, but it was when it was getting the way of his health and his relationship.

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Ango,” you placed your head directly in front of the screen and he jolted back. You took this moment of weakness to crawl into his lap, effectively straddling him.

Ango’s cheeks were progressively getting redder by the second, and the stutters that left his lips began to jumble together the more your hands trailed up his chest, reaching up to remove his glasses. You forgot how much you loved seeing him like this- seeing him unravel under your fingertips.

Before he could even try to understand what you were up to, you pulled him by his tie and locked lips with him.

His breath hitched and his eyes widened, hands hovering above your waist. You felt the tension in his body slowly leave as he sunk into the kiss, eyes closing and pulling you even closer.

When you both broke apart, you rested your forehead against Ango’s, who was panting lightly with his eyes unfocused. The tips of his ears were turning brighter (if that was possible), when you kissed him again.

“Come to bed with me?” You gave him another peck. “Please?”

“It- It is getting late, I could always finish this tomorrow.” He cleared his throat, trying to get himself composed again even if he was failing miserably.

Was it a bit of an underhanded tactic? Probably.

But you thought it was worth it when you were curled into Ango’s arms later on that night, both of you soundly sleeping.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 14: Devil's Ploy

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

You snort and blink rapidly to clear your nose of the fetid sulphuric odour burning the membranes of your nostrils, throat and eyes. In the cramped, dimly lit sewers, where the air doesn’t stir, the stench of it lingers and never seems to dissipate.

When your vision finally becomes unimpaired by burning tears, the cambion and her fire-red hair, horns bedazzled with chains of gold, is leering at you with a conniving expression that makes your stomach sink. You’ve seen this expression on her plenty of times when she was scheming and plotting.

“Gods above,” you hiss with a rasp to your voice. “What do you want, Mizora? I thought I was good and done with your kind.”

“And here I thought we had all become such good friends,” she titters, feigning cordiality terribly. “You always did have so much… spunk. I’m happy death still hasn’t taken your lovely little spark.”

“You can ask Raphael all about my spark,” you smirk. Vivid blue lightning crackles and buzzes over your fingertips. “Oh, wait. You can’t because I killed him for seeing me as no more than a little mouse, a pawn, and I will do the same with you if you think you can play games with me.”

“Oh-yes,” Mizora giggles, not one iota ruffled by your threats. “All nine Hells were positively astir with the news of his demise. He always was such a pompous and over-confident twat, not unlike your master, I suppose."

Master. Ugh.

“I would be lying if I said it was nice to see you again, Mizora. If you will excuse me, I have my prey to hunt, and you’ve made me lose its trail.”

You can’t hear or smell Elowyn anymore. She will be deep into the ruin by now, or worse yet, in the Crimson Palace itself, but you still don’t understand what use she would have of that place. There is nothing left there but closed cells full of rotting gore that can never be opened again since you made Astarion break Cazador’s quarterstaff - Woe. Insofar as you’re aware, that was the only key to controlling everything.

“A great pity you’re in such a rush, pet,” Mizora snickers. Gods, you hate being called “pet.” You almost growl, but you’re too preoccupied with the rising feeling of foreboding swishing around in your stomach. You know that laugh and dread what’s about to come out of her mouth next. “I was going to offer to assist your Vampire Ascendant with his little… problem, but I suppose if you don’t want help… well, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Ta-ta!”

“Wait!” You snap, whirling around. You’re going to regret this. “Wait… What do you know of Astarion’s ailment?”

“I thought that might get your attention,” she smirks smugly. “Let’s make ourselves more comfortable, shall we? You may be accustomed to living in such filth, but I am decidedly not.”

Mizora snaps her fingers, fire bursts to life all around you, and then you’re in a grand sitting room with glitzy settees, lounges and chairs. Rugs made of creatures you’ve never seen before litter the floor. Some appear reptile-like with scaly hides, others plush furs, others with feathers and more with something you can only begin to describe as some form of cartilaginous exoskeleton. They look at you with glassy, dead eyes ashine in their long-dead sockets.

It’s stiflingly hot, and you peer out of double doors leading to the terrace and take in the landscape. In the distance, black, jagged mountains pierce the horizon with peaks wreathed in an eerie crimson mist. Brimstone and fire dance in a perpetual inferno bordering a river made entirely of lava or possibly blood. It’s hard to tell from this height. The air is acrid and clouded with volcanic ash, and the sky flickers reds and oranges as fireballs race through clouds of darkest black.

“Avernus,” Mizora gushes. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I think I preferred the sewers,” you croak, wiping the sweat from your brow and going back inside. It does little to provide any comfort or liberation from the sweltering climate.

“Of course, sewer spawn,” she scoffs indignantly and drops unceremoniously onto a lounge. “It was your home for a little while. Wasn’t it? Until the Cleric and Wizard found you down there.”

“Have you been watching me this entire time?” You cross your arms and quirk a brow at her. “Do you have nothing better to do than derive pleasure from pain and suffering?”

“Oh, darling.” Her head falls back, and she laughs, “Of course! Who wouldn’t want to watch this little tragedy play out? It has been quite amusing thus far.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the show,” you bow sarcastically with a frown. “If you’re getting such a kick out of it, why are you meddling in my nightmare?”

“Sit. Won’t you?” She gestures toward the chaise. Mizora won’t tell you anything until you do as she asks. This is all part of her little game, after all. So, you sit with a roll of your eyes. “I would have been happy to watch until the vampire killed you, but alas, all good things must come to an end. Zariel and the other archdevils have other plans.”

Fuck. If another archdevil, or several, from the sounds of it, are getting involved, this is unlikely to be good. What got you here was another deal with an archdevil, but if there’s even a chance that something Mizora might tell you can give you somewhere to start, well, you can humour her.

“Which are?”

“Oh,” Mizora shrugs. “I don’t know, little lamb. I am merely a messenger.”

“Okay,” you comb your fingers through your sweat-dampened hair. She’s lying. You can see the hinting glint in her eyes. She knows more than she’s letting on. “Well, what is it you can tell me?”

The toothy, menacing smile that sidles across Mizora’s face should send you running. She sneers, “Tell me. What do you know of Mephistopheles?”

You shrug, “I know he is an archdevil, a rather powerful one. His domain is Cania. The Rite of Profane Ascension was a contract with him. Beyond that, I do not spend much time researching devils.”

“So, nothing then,” she pouts. “Well, allow me to enlighten you.”

Fire leaps to life in a circle, and Mizora’s eyes gleam with the keenness of a wild cat as you jump and get ready to defend yourself. Everything goes black except for the inferno burning around you.

As you watch the writhing blaze, depictions form in the leaping flames, moving against them. A towering devil with bright red skin, curling ram horns and massive bat-like wings jutting out from his back. He has an unnervingly charming smile, but it’s offset by cold, milk-white eyes that stare through you, making you shudder.

The figure paces around, muttering to himself and the empty grand halls around him. His eyes bounce around with feral neuroticism. He twitches, growls, hisses and waves his hand as if shooing away an annoying insect while snarling.

Abruptly, the fiery figure lets out a blood-curdling shriek and starts clawing at his skin, tearing gashes into himself until his skin is hanging in gruesome, dripping flaps from his arms and chest. Fire explodes in his palms, and he flings around bolts of Hellfire, instantly turning everything around him to ash. He pivots quickly and appears to be looking straight at you. He roars so loud you’re sure your eardrums have burst. He charges toward you with the ferocity of a rabid animal and a fireball barrels toward you.

Everything goes black, and you fall onto the floor by Mizora, who is snickering.

“What in the Hells was that?” You snap, getting up and getting in her face. You grab that fur collar in your hands and shake her, “What the fuck did I just witness?”

“Mephistopheles, for all his cunning and brilliance, is a deeply troubled individual. As you saw, he is neurotic and suspicious and often flies into fits of explosive and violent rage. Does that remind you of anyone?”

“… Astarion,” you breathe and stumble back. “Oh Gods…”

“Yes, pet.” Mizora nods with a fiendish cackle. “I can see you putting it all together. The Vampire Ascendant was an experiment of sorts. As you can imagine, these tendencies are not becoming of an archdevil. In an effort to rid himself of his neurotic temper, he needed a willing vessel to imbue with a portion of his nature. What better way to lure a willing participant than to offer unfathomable power?”

You collapse onto the chaise, wracking your fingers through your hair, “The Vampire Ascendant was nothing more than a way for Mephistopheles to offload his psychosis?”

Gods above. It makes so much sense. Astarion’s blind fits of rage. The voices in his head. The alternate version of him that sometimes takes control. You never got to see the whole contract. Did Raphael know about this and neglect to say it?

“But.” You add, looking at Mizora, “Astarion is himself some of the time.”

“Ah-yes,” Mizora snickers, glancing at her nails. “The vessel was never supposed to have an intact soul. It’s much easier to work with an empty cask than one that is already full, so to speak. A spawn was never supposed to usurp the ritual. I would say an oversight on Mephistopheles’ part, but truly, who could have imagined a spawn would get infected with a mind flayer tadpole that broke his master’s chains? Then, he just so happened to come upon a fine hero to help him. It’s all rather ludicrous sounding. Astarion’s soul is fractured but not completely eradicated. Well, not yet at least.”

“What do you mean not yet?”

“Think of it like this,” Mizora speaks to you slowly, as if you might not be smart enough to understand the metaphor slipping past her lips. “The entity is like an infection. It contaminates him, tainting everything from his thoughts, the platelets in his blood, to the marrow in his very bones, faster than his body can heal itself.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You’re starting to get suspicious. Where is the catch? The line she will hook you with?

“Can’t I just want to help out an old friend?” She pouts.

You glower at her and cross your arms, “No.”

“You were always so clever.” Mizora suddenly becomes serious, “Mephistopheles is a threat. Now that he is no longer burdened by his demons, he’s set his aspirations quite high. Too high for the liking of many of the archdevils. We would like to see him reunited with himself. It’s a very fine little deal. You get what you want to rid Astarion of the entity that’s eating him from the inside out, and we get to cage Mephistopheles back in the prison of his mind. A warning, pet. It will not be an easy road.”

“My life has never been easy. Why would it start now?” You sigh, “Tell me what needs to be done, and I will do it.”

“Such a good little spawn. Aren’t you? He’s killed you, tortured you, starved you, beat you, emotionally ruined you, and stolen your name, and you’re still willing to risk yourself to save him?” Mizora giggles, “I would say it was a true love story in the making were it not so fucking tragic.”

“What do you mean stolen my name?” You growl, cocking your head at her, “I have a name!”

“Oh,” she snickers, “Then tell me, pet. What’s your name?”

“My name…” You trail off, wracking your brain for the word. It’s right there, sitting precariously on the tip of your tongue. “My name… It’s… It’s…”

Mizora’s laughter is a haunting melody, a sinister cackle in a chilling symphony. That sound could freeze the blood of the bravest soul and make the earth tremble, “You can’t remember it. Can you?”

You replay old conversations in your head. You can see Shadowheart’s lips moving, but then there’s a sudden silence where all you hear is white noise even though she’s still talking. It’s the same with conversations with Gale, just white noise in the place where your name should have been.

Astarion stole your name from you… When did that happen, and why can’t you remember? What else has he stolen from you?

“What’s my name,” you swallow the thick odium that’s erected itself into your throat. You shriek, rage sweeping through you in a gust of hatred, “What my name, Mizora! Say it!”

Mizora smiles haughtily and speaks. You focus with every iota of your capacity, watching her lips move, but it is as you feared. Your ears hear nothing but the breathy whisper of silence, and your eyes seem unable to read the phonetics on her lips.

You’re his darling. His sweet girl. His precious treasure. His consort. His nameless spawn.

And yet, you’re still prepared to sacrifice your life.

Yes, a very good little spawn, indeed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you mutter, clenching your chest as a tendril of sadness wraps around your heart and chokes it. “What do I have to do?”

“Before we can do anything about Astarion. We must first unbind him from his contract.” Mizora says, eyes narrowing, fixed on you. “I don’t care how you do it, but you must get Astarion’s contract from Mephistopheles. Steal it. Bargain for it. The choice is yours, but you must do it fast. There’s no way to know how much time before Astarion is lost forever.”

Mizora deposits you back into the sewers, and her voice bounces off the stony passageways, “Tick-tock, tick-tock, pet.”

You consider continuing to try to track Elowyn, but you’re reeling with information and cannot fathom how you would even begin to concentrate on her. She must be dealt with. That is certain, but it must wait until your mind isn’t fraught and unsettled.

How are you supposed to get Astarion’s contract from Mephistopheles? Bargaining for it should be your last resort, but how do you get to Cania, the eighth layer of the Nine Hells, survive it long enough to sneak into Mephistar and somehow sneak through an archdevil citadel? It seems like an impossible task.

Should you tell Astarion? He would usually be the first person you ran to for help with a heist, but he’s unlikely to let you go, even if it is the only means to save him from inevitably losing himself entirely. You can’t risk Astarion forcing you to stay, but you might not be able to risk going to the Hells without him. The Vampire Ascendant will likely be an invaluable asset if you meet resistance. But if he loses himself, you might not survive Astarion’s wrath long enough to get where you’re going. Whether that thing inside him is a separate entity or a version of himself that’s been infected and corrupted, you doubt it will take kindly to you trying to remove it.

Do you approach Shadowheart? You would be putting her in great peril, but she might be able to help with research. This is your mistake to fix, and you don’t relish putting your friend’s lives on the line. Karlach and Wyll are in the Hells. They may be able to help ascertain a way to get to Cania, but you’ll need to figure out how to contact them.

And Good Gods, your name…

The silent corridors echo with the foreboding sound of your heavy footsteps like the ominous rumble of an approaching storm as you work through the maze of gangways and channels. Tears stroll in rivulets down your snowy cheeks, liquid poetry to express all the emotions you can’t.

Dejection. Grief. Fear. Defeat. Loss.

Lost in the spiralling thoughts, you forget to look to the sky as you drag your weary body home. The only thing you want right now is to curl up in the strong arms of Astarion and let him hold your broken pieces and fears together because you’re not sure if you can do it by yourself.

The sun cracks the skyline, the first rays of the soft light of an autumn day embracing the streets, but the sun no longer embraces you. It blinds and broils you. Your skin glows, flakes, and melts. Deep, molten silver-blue channels crack in your arms, legs and face. The pain is so intense you can’t even remember to scream as you stand, waiting for your skin to slough off your bones and cover the street with ash.

You don’t remember reaching out to the bond with Astarion, but his voice fills your head, “Gods above. What in the nine Hells are you doing!? ” Astarion bellows. Panic infects his usual halcyon timbre, “Find shelter! I’m coming!”

The pain is all-consuming. You can’t move, can’t think, can’t speak as your nerves are melted away. Your skin dissolves like water evaporating under the sun’s heat. Every inch of your skin is being flayed in a single moment that lasts forever.

You will die nameless and alone.

“Fuck! Find shelter. Now!”

Astarion’s compulsion overrides everything else, and your body moves stiffly to obey the command even as it smokes and your skin is loosened from your frame, liquifying and dripping off your arms and legs, turning to ash in midair and being carried away by the morning breeze.

Find shelter. Find shelter. Find shelter.

Your instructions resound in your head even louder than the pain that falls to a buzz in the background. You can’t even blink as your fingers curl around the boards of a long-abandoned shack. Gods. Are those your fingers? Is that bone you see? You wrench the board off the window. The pads of your fingers squelch and ooze. When you throw the boards down, your skin sticks to them, peeling away in rangy, fibril bands like gum. Thank the Gods, you lack the capacity to mull it over much as your body throws itself inside without your consent.

With the order completed, there is a brief moment of pure, blissful euphoria - a reward for being so very obedient. The compulsion pales, the vines recede, and you’re pitched back into the residual agony that has yet to abate.

Now that the sun is no longer skinning you alive, the pain has lessened, and you remember how to scream. An inhumane noise rends your throat somewhere between a shriek and a wail. Your head lolls to the side, and your eyes fall to your arms.

You immediately wish they hadn’t.

Your skin is not the smooth pearlescent you’re used to seeing now that the colour it once held has faded to death’s grip. It’s powdery and matte. You’re sure you’re looking at the bones of your forearms in the chasmal rifts.

You hear white noise in your head, murmuring over the bond. It feels like Astarion is trying to contact you, but you hear no words. To get your thoughts off the pain still being recited by your nerves, you shift your focus to the emotions in your head, trying to sift through them. Astarion’s heartbeat in your chest is excruciating. It hammers with the intensity of a blacksmith striking an anvil. He’s petrified, bordering on hysterical.

You reach out in your head, “Astarion?”

“Little love!” He howls. You must remember to request he not attempt to dissolve your brain matter. “Why haven’t you been answering me?”

“Where are you?” 

“Close, my treasure.” 

You don’t know how much time elapses as you bounce between consciousness and dissociation while focusing on not moving. The less you move, the better for you, but your limbs and muscles seem to jerk and twitch without your consent, and every time, it sends another agonizing swell of suffering to break over you. Teardrops flutter on your lashes, but you can’t move to wipe them away.

Your ears pick up the thudding tempo of Astarion’s beating heart before he bursts through the door, scattering the planks and showering splinters in his haste. Astarion drops to his knees beside you. He visibly shudders as his eyes land on you, slumped against a wall.

“Hells,” he breathes, chest heaving from exertion. You can feel his horror in your head, but you need not. It’s evident in his shaky and rapid speech, “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. Look at me, darling.”

Why, after everything he has done to you, is his proximity so remarkably comforting? You let your eyes roam over him and truly appreciate the beauty before you. His scarlet eyes, dazzling like vivid, perfectly polished jewels ashine behind… tears? No. That doesn’t seem right. Your vision is blurred from your eyes being boiled in their sockets. You must be imagining the tears, but his eyes are beautiful nonetheless. His sculpted, full lips, which once held the promise of an eternity of silk kisses, are downturned at the corners. You would give anything to run your fingers along them right now, feel them on your skin, taste them on your tongue. He is breathtaking, quite literally.

“Sweetheart.” Astarion reaches to you. His fingers tremble as they hover below your jaw. He knows it will hurt if he touches you, “Can you hear me?”

You answer in his head because moving the muscles in your face to make you capable of speech will hurt, “Yes. I hear you.”

“I can compel you to not feel the pain, to sleep, but I need your permission.” His eyes bore into you. His voice is a favourite dream you long to slip into, “Please.”

It’s dangerous permission to give. You’ve told him you will leave if he compels you again, but he just did, didn’t he? He compelled you to find shelter when you could not do it yourself. He compelled you from afar. He does not need to be near you to force commands upon you. He can wrap your brain and body around his finger like twine from anywhere, anytime, on a whim. But Gods, you will do anything to make this pain end, to drift away from this fucking nightmare.

“Do it.”

Immediately, you feel your control funnelling away, like sand through an hourglass.

“You feel no pain,” he purrs, and the pain vanishes as your nerve endings deactivate. It’s a blissful respite, and you sigh. “Thank you for trusting me. Sleep now.”

Your brain shuts off. Darkness claims you, and Hells below, you welcome it.

“Wake.”

The directive floats through your comatose mind like a beam of light cuts through the pitch-blackness of nullity. Your faculties burst to life, waking one by one, unfurling like a blooming flower. The first thing you feel is hunger so painful that your body jerks to collapse in on itself as your limbs jolt and tremor insuppressibly. Excruciating cramps make your toes curl and your hands ball into fists. Your mind is raving, mad with hunger. You consider biting your tongue if only for the sweet succour of that crimson elixir.

You cannot think of anything other than the sensation of your insides gnawing on themselves, the paralyzing contracting of every ligament and tendon in your body, the desiccation that’s withered your tongue, and the grave need to feed - on anything and anyone.

Another spasm causes you to lurch and claw at your skin like you could dig yourself out of this ailing body. Warm hands clasp your wrists, and all your mind can think is warm means alive, and alive means blood. Your eyes snap open, but your addled brain simply cannot process the visual input, and you don’t think twice before fire erupts from your palms.

“Shit!”

You hear it, but you do not process it. As soon as the grip on you rescinds, you lunge at this figure before you whose beating heart is thrumming the provocative siren song of life and food. Colliding with it is like being throttled into a brick wall, but you waste no time fumbling and climbing with bared fangs. You’re so close to that beautifully pulsing vein, and it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on.

Stomach bubbling with hunger, you go to bite, jaws snapping and slobbering like a feral beast. As soon as your fangs hover within striking distance, your body arrests, and you’re instantaneously immobilized.

Strong arms wrap around you, lift, and sink you to the floor. A hand cradles your cheek, and the branching blue-purple veins make you swoon. You think about biting them only to have your body freeze up on you further. It guides your eyes to vivid crimson irises that spark recognition and reason back into your dazed lucidity.

“Astarion…”

“Stop thinking about biting me,” he chuckles and shifts you to the side. “You’ll be able to move again.”

“What?” You would quirk a brow at him, but you’re too focused on trying to push your intentions of biting him away. They do not concede to your urges, and you find your eyes wander without your permission to any vein that might be in striking distance. Astarion always gently walks your errant gaze back to his. “You haven’t compelled me?”

“Ah. Apologies. I do forget how new you are to this.” Astarion reaches for something on the dresser to his right, “No. This is not a compulsion. As my…” he trails off.

“Spawn.” You state with a palpable despondency threaded between the fog of hunger that looms over you.

“I do hate that word,” he shakes his head with discontentment as if he does not want to face the reality of what he has turned you into. “You are physically unable to bite me without my permission. Your body simply will not allow you to do it. Which is why you currently cannot move.”

Astarion holds a goblet out to you, and your stomach is set on fire by the iron sharpness that wafts from the syrupy, bright red nectar. It breaks you away from your absorption of sinking your fangs into Astarion’s flesh, and you snatch it out of his hands and drink with mindless gluttony.

The blood is fresh, hot and rich as the liquid rushes into your mouth. It waterfalls through your body, unknotting the snarls in your muscles, dissolving away the relentless twist of your stomach, and replacing the bloodlust hysteria in your mind with a sultry buzzing.

Astarion’s already holding another goblet, and you throw the empty one to the side and close your eyes as you guzzle. The blood is buttery and decadent. It’s hundreds, nay, thousands of exquisite dishes in a single swallow. It’s like a summertime dawn on your tongue. The wet warmth of it sinks between your thighs, settling with a molten throbbing in your core, and you moan at the pure bliss.

Astarion slips the goblet from your fingers once you’ve finished, and you look at him with half-lidded eyes. You rack your brain for memories of the few times you’ve tasted the blood of thinking creatures. You bit a few in the battles between when he turned you and the Netherbrain, but you cannot remember any of them ever tasting that deliciously arousing.

“That wasn’t animal blood,” you state, almost slurring. You feel drunk, or maybe Astarion is just intoxicating to look at while he mesmerizes you with those red eyes and perfect lips that foretoken pleasure. “Who did you just feed me?”

“No, it was decidedly not animal blood,” he grins as you adjust on his lap and straddle him. You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing in your desirous daze, and you trace the perfect bow of his lips as he speaks. “It was my blood.”

“You are delectable,” you giggle as your fingers help themselves and start fiddling with the buttons on his chemise. As your muddled mind starts to make sense of what he just said, you’re tripped up. You stare at him with a slack jaw and round eyes.

“The look on your face is priceless, darling,” he giggles and glances down at your roving hands as they push open his shirt and trace the defined muscles. Astarion’s fingers trace down your neck, sending shivers down your spine and making you squirm on his lap in wanton desperation for even the most minuscule friction to sate the ache, “I told you that you would taste me, and I you. It will not make you a True Vampire, though, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Right now, you could not care less about being a True Vampire. There is very little on your mind except how his skin feels on your fingers and how extraordinary he would feel stretching you.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply, placing slow kisses up the column. His fingers curl into the silk nightdress he must have changed you into at some point as he groans.

“Whatever are you doing?” He mutters near your ear, pressing his cheek to yours.

“I want you,” you sigh as you curl your fingers into his hair.

“You just attacked me,” he swallows.

“Then, let me apologize,” you grind against his hardening length in a way that makes you both gasp.

“You’ve been asleep for a week,” he mumbles, even as his arms wrap around you, tugging you close. “You have no idea how close you were to dying. Truly dying.”

You should probably be concerned with how long he kept you asleep since your time is limited, but you don’t care. You can’t care. You’ve never been quite so high on blood, on him. He is the light, darkness and blood that runs through your veins, and good Gods, you will give him everything.

“So, wake me up,” you purr as you push his shirt over his shoulders and run the flat of your tongue up his neck, relishing the salt of his skin. “Touch me like only you can. Love me like only you do. Help me feel alive, Astarion.”

Astarion pulls you back, cradling your face with this thumb pressed gently under your chin, drawing your eyes to his, and you stare at him through narrow, seductively hooded eyes like a love-sick pup. He traces your lips with his thumb, and you catch it in your mouth and suck.

“Hells,” he rasps darkly with a sharp inhalation.

You feel the offering call of the bond, and you don’t hesitate to throw it open. That beautifully overwhelming frisson shatters through you as Astarion’s lips catch yours in an eager, bordering on frantic kiss. He snakes his hand into your hair, holding you firmly against his vehement embrace. His tongue darts into your mouth, and a guttural groan thunders in his chest. His kiss is unusually clumsy, lacking the artistry and mastery he typically possesses, and your teeth click together with your greed for each other. You roll your hips, sinking your clit against his length, and your head falls back as white-hot sparks of want rupture behind your eyelids.

As far as you’re concerned, he is the definition of desire. His lips, his hands, and his taste are the only things that can bring you back to life from this deathless death, and you’re sure that you could never get close enough to him. Even with every curve of your body pressed into every contour of his, it still wouldn’t be enough. Nothing is sweeter than the serene sin of the kisses his lips press against your throat.

You peel off your nightdress, and your fingers tug at the opening of his breeches, graceless in your wild hunger to be filled, to be taken, to be his. Astarion quirks his hips up and pulls them down his hips, freeing his cock. The head glistens with evidence of his arousal. With no warning or hesitation, you sink his full length into you. The heavenly stretch makes you cry out and dig your fingers into his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes, heavy, ragged and uneven. The pads of his fingers find your swollen flesh, sweeping and circling, and you get lost in the divine stimulation.

You set a slow, teasing pace, rising and sinking back down onto him as you delight in feeling the ridges of his head with every languid pump. Astarion pants as he lets out breathy moans. He brings a hand to your hip, trying to urge you to move quicker.

“Good Gods,” he whimpers, his gaze glossed with desire. “Have mercy.”

You are starving for pleasure, famished, and you will take it how you want it. With a warning growl, you grasp his wrist and pin it above his head to the wall. Astarion grins at your dominance and doesn’t fight it. He murmurs something unintelligible as you plunge onto his cock, and stares reverentially through thick lashes, drinking you in as you forfeit all rational thought.

Time runs away with you. You could have been riding him for hours or seconds, but eventually, your savouring pace turns reckless and erratic. Astarion bucks his hips in time to meet yours as the sound of smacking flesh, wanton cries and panting is all that fills your ears and head.

Astarion’s fingers tremble and quake against your sensitive bud, his skin sheens with sweat and his breath hitches. When you finally unpin his wrist, he clutches your hips and guides you to continue the tempo that is driving you perilously close to the edge.

His breath starts to come faster, panting hot and crude, fanning across your sweat-veiled skin. Scarlet eyes devour you as you chase your release in his lap. He penetrates you - Harder. Deeper. Animalistic.

“Oh shit—” His eyes snap open wide, almost in a look of blissful confusion. In your rapture, you barely notice the way his lips move, but you hear nothing but white noise. “I’m going to— Gods. I think I’m going to—“

A shuddering gasp escapes his lips, his body suddenly tensing beneath you. The look of ecstasy that washes over his face is enough to hurl you over the precipice, and you cry out with him. Between your walls clutching and spasming, you feel his cock twitching and pulsing, flooding you with his seed. His arms wrap around you, and you cling to him with a grip that would surely bruise. He crushes you against him as you’re both overwhelmed with pleasure so pure you think maybe it would have killed you were you not already dead.

As the intoxication of your climax fades, you sag into him, pressing your forehead against his neck. You close your eyes, breathing in the fragrance of his sweat, and focus on the rise and fall of his chest. It would be nice to stay in this darkness, snug and safe and home in his embrace, with the bond open so you can remain one pale star against the dusk of reality.

And then you remember the white noise from the moving lips of Shadowheart, Gale, Mizora, and him … You pull back abruptly, breaking out of Astarion’s arms and staring at him, tears teeming in your eyes. Astarion’s confusion is evident on his face and through the connection.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. You can feel him trying to figure it out in his head. It’s such an odd sensation, almost like your emotions are being poked and prodded. “What did I do?”

“Say my name,” you whimper, focusing on his lips.

“What?” His eyes bounce around as his brows pull down.

“My name,” you repeat with a quivering lip. “Say it.”

Astarion’s lips move, and… nothing. All you can hear is the buzzing, fizzing hiss of white noise coming from his mouth.

“Again.”

“I don’t understand —“ He yet again opens and closes his mouth with only a droning hum. Your fingers clamber against his lips, pushing his mouth open as if you might be able to grasp the word as it leaves his tongue. “Whatever is the matter?”

He doesn’t even know, you realize. He has no idea that he’s stolen your name just as he stole your life. You find some comfort in knowing that it wasn’t this version of him that did it, at least. You stare off dejected as everything rushes back to you like a slap across the cheek.

Mizora. The Hells. Mephistopheles. The Contract. The ticking clock. Your name.

“My love,” Astarion’s fingers curl into your hair, and he ushers your eyes to his. “Did I harm you? Please. Tell me what’s troubling you."

“I don’t remember my name,” the tears spill out of your eyes. “You stole it from me.” 

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

So... does she tell him what Mizora revealed?

[eddiediazismyhusband]

breathe friend you know tommy is bones in s8, he's not bucks endgame the reliable leaker has literally been clear about that. don't believe anything that psychopath on twitter says, she's literally insane.

oh trust me i don’t believe anything she says lmao

and i know the leaker said that about tommy but tbh that dont mean shit about whether or not they are actually going to fix any of the fuckery they pulled in s7

just because they are allegedly giving tommy the boot doesn’t mean they’re going to actually get their shit together and stop ship baiting us; so like i said until they actually start to give us any indication that they’re going to stop mistreating poc characters for cheap drama and that storylines are actually going to be thought out beforehand rather than thrown together because “ehh, this is good enough” i’m not going to be wasting my time. these shows are meant for entertainment. if i am not being entertained by what’s being done, why am i going to waste my energy on it?

i dont say this to sound snippy or rude, anon, and it is NOT directed at you specifically (and i really hope it doesn’t come across that way i am just bad at emoting through screens 😭😭), i promise, but sometimes it feels like people who try to “talk me off the ledge” in these anonymous asks don’t really look at what i’m actually saying and they jump to the conclusion that i’m just making shit up to panic about, but the fact of the matter is that everything i talked about in that post is something that could feasibly happen… all of buck’s love interests up to this point have not been narratively satisfying; developed or not. so even if tommy does end up going like the leaker said (again not getting my hopes up because things change at the drop of a hat in this business) that doesn’t mean they will actually follow through with queer eddie or that any other potential love interest for buck will be in any way narratively satisfying. i’m not saying i’m closing on buddie, because i will love them and ship them together when my body is six feet under, but after the burning dumpster that was s7 post the cruise ship arc, i don’t have the faith in tim that i had before.

at the end of the day, yes abc is a more accepting and inclusive studio, but it is still that: a studio. a corporation. a money maker. they don’t actually give a fuck about the fans. i have seen time and time again that these shows do this cat and mouse shit with a queer ship and then never follow through, even if one of the characters involved does end up being confirmed queer. maybe it was a little harsh to say that tim is only interested in money, but after how little thought and care he put into last season it’s hard not to feel like he actually cares about the fans who have stuck with this show since the beginning.

i’ve mentioned before that i have stuck with this show for seven years. i have shipped buddie since s2. i witnessed the s4 buildup and subsequent letdown in s5 and 6. I know that was not tim’s fault specifically, that KR and Fox both fucked the show over

but that does not mean that tim won’t also change his mind— we saw evidence of that last minute with all the rewrites that were happening post mid season hiatus with s7. he found out he’s getting another season so he changed the plot of 7b, and if they get a season 9, all the more reason to keep dragging the buddie bait hype along with now true intentions to follow through?

i reslly really reallly wanted to trust tim again especially after the potential he had with the shooting arc in s4, but sometimes it feels like he himself has closed on buddie since then unless it’s done as a last-ditch effort to save the show… again, i’m not saying i think bt is going to be endgame, but just because they aren’t endgame doesn’t mean buddie is and that is what pisses me off. that we will have been waiting for nearly a decade for this ship to go canon, we will have gone through so much hate and vitriol from the bt stans, we have been teased and built up time and time again (even in s7), we have been bait and switched with no satisfactory outcome, and we have been laughed at the entire time, and there is a possibility that none of it will actually pay off, all because some white man gets to call the shots and he’s shown that all he cares about is melodrama and trolling people online to stir up shit.

anyway, i didn’t mean to hijack this post, anon, but i wnated to further expound upon what exactly my point was in my original post, which was not that i believed Bree’s delusions or that the helicopter pilot is buck’s endgame, but that i won’t trust tim to actually go through with anything promising until i start to see actual concrete irrefutable evidence of it.

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] A Deal in Three Acts: Act I

Title: A Deal in Three Acts Summary: Weeks since Raphael took temporary residence at Sharess' Caress, Haarlep is bored. Still waiting for Tav to take him up on his offer, Raphael is frustrated. Tav chooses an interesting evening to show up with a counter-offer. Characters: Raphael, Haarlep, Tav. Rating: Explicit Status: Complete

Also on AO3

***

There is something vaguely resembling a kind of attempt at plot relevance if you squint but I mostly wanted an excuse to write porn.

***

When Haarlep snuck in Raphael’s room at Sharess’ Caress - Devil’s Den, really? Did he have that plaque installed? - they did so quietly, wearing the likeness of some poor imbecile who’d given his body and soul to them a few centuries earlier.

A useless precaution, as it turned out: the owners of that fine establishment were perfectly happy with having devils on the premises, as long as rent was paid. A high rent, probably, for the luxury of the suite: of course Raphael would settle for nothing less, even though he probably had not expected a weeks long stay. 

When he’d departed from Baldur’s gate, after sharing yet more details of his plan with Haarlep in a grandiose and entirely unprompted monologue, Raphael had been certain this little mouse and her companions would fall over themselves to accept his generous offer and sign his contract. 

“They may ask for time to think it over, of course. They may still believe they will find a solution on their own, outsmarting a devil. Mortals are prone to delusions of grandeur,” Raphael had said, with an astounding lack of self-awareness Haarlep could almost admire.  “But they will not. They will take my deal in a matter of days.”

The days had turned into a week, two weeks, and then three weeks. Raphael was still in Baldur’s Gate, still waiting for a signature and, from what Korrilla had told Haarlep during a brief visit at the House of Hope, in an increasingly foul mood.

“He rants and raves worse than usual if you give him a chance,” she’d warned them. “I’d keep avoiding him, if I were you. Don’t give him that chance.”

At first, Harrlep had no intention to go see him in the Material Plane. They had taken his prolonged absence as a vacation of sorts for the first week - two weeks, maybe - but soon enough, that too had grown old. There was no power in the Nine Hells of Baator that could compel Haarlep to say they missed Raphael’s presence, but they were bored. Getting under Raphael’s skin was, after all, their favorite pastime.

Well. The second favorite. But still.

Haarlep shifted back into their mimicry of Raphael, briefly stretched their wings, and padded into the next room. Sure enough, Raphael was there. He was fully clothed, sitting at a desk and writing something into that golden book he often had with him. Haarlep grinned, walked up behind him, and placed both hands on Raphael’s shoulders. 

“Who--?” Raphael looked up, startled, and scowled when he saw them. “What are you doing here?” he snapped, closing the book despite the still fresh ink on it. “I don’t recall giving you any instructions to follow me here.”

“Oh, I could ask the same. What are you doing, little brat?” Haarlep sing-sang in turn. “I thought you came to this plane for the most important infernal contract of all time, and yet here you are, writing your little fictions.”

“It is a verse epic, you ignorant thing,” Raphael bit back, and Haarlep’s smile widened. There were plenty of things that ruffled his feathers - they had spent long long centuries figuring each of them out, so they could put them to good use - but few things got to him as hearing his literary endeavors described as ‘his little fictions’. 

“How curious it is,” Haarlep said, still resting both hands on Raphael’s shoulders, “that a devil of your stature doesn’t have a small army of scribes to write verse epics. It seems unfair, leaving you to write up imaginary deeds all by yourself.”

Only the slightest tensing of Raphael’s back betrayed his annoyance. Still, he made a commendable effort not to let it show. 

“With questionable results, I’d wager. I have no need for such cheap flattery,” he replied, like he and Haarlep both didn’t know full well he’d happily take in all flattery, cheap or otherwise. He craved it nearly as much as he craved power, or even more. What was power, what was all his ambition, if not the ultimate bid to be admired? Haarlep knew Raphael well enough to know he had no true inclination to rule, much less any taste for duty. 

He wanted Asmodeus’ throne the way he’d always wanted a pedestal, nothing more. Lifetimes since they’d been sworn to him, when he was a young cambion vying for any sort of relevance at his father’s court alongside more half-siblings than anyone could bother counting - some more powerful than him, some more cunning, all looked upon with some scorn by full devils and now mostly dead - he had not changed all that much.

“How odd. I’ve always found you to take in mediocre praise as eagerly as you take me.” Haarlep’s hands went down Raphael’s chest, and they spoke the next words in his ear. “Which you haven’t in a while. You’ve been here waiting for weeks for this little mouse of yours and her companions to come back and take your deal. You must be so very bored.”

There was a shudder Raphael was quick to disguise with a scoff, but not quite quick enough. “They’ll be back crawling,” he growled. “When they realize there is no other way out other than trusting an Illithid. They’ll be begging to take my deal.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sure they will. But now, you’re the one acting like a beggar.”

Raphael bristled, and tilted back his head to glare at them. Haarlep would never not enjoy seeing him look up at them. “What do you think you know? You’re naught more than a glorified bedwarmer. I am not sitting here in wait. I have been making deals, every single day--”

“But not the one you really want.” They leaned over, and spoke only a scant inch from Raphael’s lips. They felt his breathing quicken, dark brown eyes already clouded with want. Raphael had never coped well with frustration, with having his desires denied. When it all got to be too much, well. Either someone unfortunate enough to cross his path in the House of Hope would suffer, or Haarlep would find more pleasant ways for him to release that pent up emotion.

“Maybe they will be back crawling. I’m sure you’d love to see that.” Their hand went down his stomach, stopped barely above his groin. “I for one have missed seeing you crawl. I have half a mind to make you beg before I agree to fuck you.”

A breath, shakier than Raphael probably intended. “Half a mind,” he bit, “is all you have in that skull of yours. You may want to avoid straining it too much.”

Ah, Raphael. Sometimes he made it almost too easy. “You would know, my little brat. I am, after all, fashioned in your image.”

“You insolent--”

Whatever word he meant to utter next - wretch, probably - only came out as a muffled noise as Haarlep closed up the space between their lips, a hand grasping Raphael’s face, fingers pressing firmly onto his cheeks. It was not enough pressure to make him open his mouth, but it was a clear invitation and firm enough that Raphael could later claim, if so he wished, that he hadn’t opened his mouth voluntarily. But he did, he always did. They both knew the truth.

Haarlep pushed their tongue into his mouth as soon as his lips parted, and that was that. He heard Raphael’s low groan, felt the shudder that ran through him as their saliva took effect. They smiled against his lips and grabbed the front of Raphael’s doublet, pulling him up on his feet before pushing him back against the desk. The chair topped and ink spilled on the floor, but their master was already well beyond caring, if the way he grasped the straps of Haarlep’s harness was anything to go by. Oh yes, he had missed this exactly as much as Haarlep thought. That was good. They had very much missed pushing him around.

“Have you gone without all this time, Raphael?” Haarlep’s hand went down to unlace his trousers. Raphael’s thighs parted, offering no resistance. “And to think you’ve taken residence in a brothel. But none here can get you like this.” A light, teasing grip on his cock, already hardening. “None of them has your face, mmh?”

“You’re not here-- to speak,” Raphael ground out. “So keep that tongue of yours still, unless it’s to-- ah!” 

“Oh, apologies. I should have warned.” Haarlep grinned, not apologetic in the slightest, and adjusted the ring they’d conjured at the base of Raphael’s half-erect cock. “But after such a long time apart, I plan on making you last, my pet.”

A glare, all indignant outrage. “I did not give you permission--”

“No, you did not. Say the word, and I’ll take it off.” Another kiss, deep, devouring, chipping away at Raphael’s weak show of resistance. “But you won’t.”

A snarl, even as his fingers gripped the leather straps holding Haarlep’s harness in place, even as he tried to cant up his hips to press himself against Haarlep’s thigh. “I despise you.”

“You despise how right I am.”

“You’re not. I am indulging you - you’d do well to remember.”

“Indulging your incubus? My, what a generous master,” Haarlep said, unable to keep the barest hint of mockery out of the word. “Or maybe I’m to be the master tonight. And you’re mine to indulge in. Is that how you want it to be, Raphael?”

“You ought to know what I want. That’s all you’re meant to think about,” was the response, only slightly ruined by the groan he failed to bite back towards the end, when Haarlep gripped his hair and forced his head back, nipping at his throat. 

They’d heard that response, many times. After centuries upon centuries as his personal incubus, there was hardly a combination of words Haarlep had not heard fall out of his mouth. And they knew precisely what this one meant. 

Yes, it’s how I want it.

A smile against his neck, and they pulled back, still holding onto Raphael’s hair. The skin on his throat was already reddened; so thin and delicate, nothing like the thick, leathery one of his cambion form, when Raphael was only figuratively thin-skinned. Haarlep ran a claw from beneath his chin down his throat, slowly, and felt Raphael swallow. 

“It would be so easy to make you bleed when you’re like this, my little brat. Sometimes I wonder which form is really you and which one is the disguise.”

A snarl. “I told you to be--”

“Silence.”

The grip on Raphael’s hair tightened, and he again trailed off with a groan. Satisfied, Haarlep nipped at his throat again before pushing Raphael easily across the room, onto the large bed only a few steps away. 

Raphael stumbled against the mattress gracelessly, hair tousled, entirely clothed aside for the open trousers revealing how hard he already was. “Undress,” Haarlep said, the harsh tone already giving way to sheer glee. Raphael glared, teeth clenched, but they spoke again before he could make a noise. “One word of protest, my pet, and I’ll find someone else to satisfy tonight. We’re in a brothel. I’ll find no shortage of willing customers.”

“I haven’t given you permission-- ”

“You have five minutes,” Haarlep cut him off, sweetly, leaning against the desk. “To undress and get yourself ready. Then I’ll fuck you, little duke, regardless how slick or open you are. I wouldn’t waste precious time arguing, if I were you.”

Of all monikers Haarlep had called him over the centuries, that was still the one Raphael hated most. He was no real duke and, although for a time he’d fancied himself an unofficial ambassador of Cania to Avernus, he held no official position whatsoever in any of the Nine Hells. Little dukes had been how some in Mephistar referred to the spawn of Mephistopheles sired upon mortals, or at least the ones who survived long enough in the Material Plane to be taken to their father’s court - where most lasted very little time indeed. It was meant as a jape, of course, the mockery barely even concealed.

Raphael had hated it then, and he hated it now. He hated Haarlep for it, and he still held his tongue, he still went to undress with practiced ease that barely concealed the tremor in his hands. Haarlep smiled, tilting their head, as he reached into a drawer to take a very convenient vial of oil. 

“Would you like me to be the Archduchess tonight?” they asked, and were only slightly disappointed when Raphael shook his head no. It wasn’t surprising: Raphael only had them take the form of the Archduchess when he wanted to be utterly ruined, brought as low as one could get. The Archduchess was for when he needed to be ground into the floor, made to crawl and bruise and bleed, reduced to a raw sobbing thing in their hands. It wasn’t a common occurrence, and not an overly rare one either. 

But Raphael would never surrender so much control outside the safety of his boudoir, where he was still the master of the house and where, at the end, Haarlep could take him into the restoration pool to heal what could be healed, soothe what could be soothed. Unless directly told to take the form of the Archduchess, there were boundaries Haarlep knew not to cross. Few and far in-between, but there nonetheless.

But that was all right. There were plenty of ways to make him beg in their current form, too.

In an uncharacteristically merciful mood - and perhaps just a little entertained by the sight of Raphael kneeling on the bed, working himself open with oiled fingers, eyes shut and teeth clenched to hold back moans - Haarlep let a little more than just five minutes pass before they strode to the bed, discarding their harness on the way. It fell on the floor in a clink of chains, and it was the only warning Raphael got before Haarlep knelt on the mattress and grasped his face, forcing him to turn for another kiss.

Usually, there would be some resistance - at least the show of it, much of what Raphael did was for show - but oh, their time apart must have taken its toll, because this time there was none. He just groaned and parted his lips for another kiss, sucking on Haarlep’s tongue, and the shudder that went through his body was impossible to ignore. 

Raphael’s hands grasped Haarlep’s shoulders; his grip was demanding, the whine that left him sounded like a plea, and Haarlep smiled against his lips. Whether he’d demand or plead, it didn’t matter: what he was, what he’d always be under their touch, was needy and desperate.

That was how Haarlep liked him best. The only way they truly liked him, perhaps, needy and desperate and so very small compared to them. For someone so dismissive of his human heritage, so desperate to be seen as nothing but a devil of the highest order, he used that human form of his remarkably often.

A smile against his lips and they pulled back, still gripping Raphael’s face, claws sinking into his cheeks almost enough to break the skin. Raphael’s eyes found theirs, clouded with want even as he scowled at them. There he was, the son of the Archdevil of Contradictions, the hellfire burning hot beneath the façade of Cania’s Cold Lord. How funny to see that resemblance now, with Raphael in his human form, naked and open and desperate to be fucked. 

They almost wanted to point it out, but Raphael would be furious at the comparison and that might just be a little out of line, so they kept the thought to themself. Instead, they gestured to their own cock, still soft between their tights. They willed it so, of course: they had the sort of complete control over their body that Raphael could never hope to have on his own.

“Ah, would you look at that. You might just have to work for it this once.”

A huff. “You’re more than capable--” Raphael began, oh so predictable and wonderfully haughty, before Haarlep squeezed his cock and his voice broke into a cry. If not for the ring, he’d have come there and then.

“On the floor, pet,” Haarlep said, voice sweet as it could get, and shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. “Kneel.”

If looks could kill, Haarlep would have keeled over and died countless times in the past several centuries - but they could not, even coming from a devil. So they remained alive and well, and delighted, as Raphael finally knelt on the floor between their thighs. He glared at their dick - his dick, technically - and liked his lips before looking up.

“You’ll pay for this,” he growled, only to be met with a grin.

“Oh, do you promise, little duke?” Their fingers combed through Raphael’s hair in what was almost a caress before gripping it loosely. He hissed, cheeks flushed, and the scowl wavered. “Don’t make me set the pace, Raphael. You wouldn’t like that. Or would you? Do you want me to choke you again? You feel everything I feel, after all.”

A shudder, then Raphael lowered his gaze, and took them in his mouth at long last. He was not particularly skilled, but the fact alone it was him to do this more than made up for the lack of finesse. A better use of that mouth and tongue, surely, than the endless prattle he’d usually spout. Raphael enjoyed the sound of his own voice far too much, although Haarlep had to admit that it was a lovely voice.

But they liked it best when it was used to moan their name, and nothing else.

“Good boy,” they sighed, and Raphael shuddered again, a whine in the back of his throat. When they casually moved their leg, pressing their shin against Raphael’s groin, he immediately pressed his cock against it, hard and hot and leaking. He couldn’t come with the ring on, but any friction was better than just the phantom feeling of his own sucking. 

He knew better than to try and touch himself without Haarlep’s permission. Last time he did Haarlep had been the Archduchess, and it had taken several hours in the restoration pool for Raphael’s fingers to heal.

They wouldn’t go that far now, but they didn’t have to make it too easy either. Haarlep could make it last as long as they wished, leaving him to suck desperately on a limp dick for hours, rutting against their leg like an animal, empty, desperate to come and unable to. They considered it as they tilted up his chin, just enough to make him look at them, lips still around their cock. 

“Look at me, sweetling,” they said, a lilt in their voice. “Look at your face.”

He did, eyes half-lidded, looking every bit as desperate as he must feel. He loved nothing more than this, seeing himself sneering and haughty, in command and in full control, even as he was the one being so thoroughly debased.

The best of both worlds, Haarlep thought; who could blame him?

A whine, hands gripping their thighs, and Haarlep decided they wouldn't draw this out too long after all. They allowed themself to harden, and the noise of relief that got out of Raphael was such a sweet, sweet sound. Haarlep laughed, elated, and gripped his hair to pull his head back, to get a good look at him. He was perfect like this, face flushed and jaw slack, eyes dark with lust. Haarlep’s hand let go of his hair, and cupped his face before leaning in and kissing him, slow, languorous.

“Beg,” they whispered against Raphael’s lips.

A shiver, and a last attempt at resistance. “You said you’d fuck me--”

“I signed no contract in regards to fucking you tonight. Beg, or I’ll find someone else and make sure they scream loud enough you’ll hear--”

“Please.”

Ah, yes, that was what they were hoping to hear. Haarlep smiled, brushing a thumb over Raphael’s cheek. “Please what, my little brat?”

A pause, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could never quite meet their eyes - his own eyes -  when he gave in and finally pleaded. “Please, fuck me.”

“Why should I?”

A long, long time ago, Raphael might have answered ‘because I own you’, and he wouldn’t have been wrong. Haarlep was bound to him, and he could enforce his will upon them; it was supposed to be a simple, clear-cut matter of ownership. 

Except that things had never quite been that clear cut. Raphael’s boudoir had become Haarlep’s boudoir; Raphael could hide little from them, could deny them next to nothing, while Haarlep could indeed deny Raphael his desires if they wished - and live to tell the tale.

Of course Raphael loathed being denied. He hated Haarlep for denying him. Yet he came back, again and again, because in the end Haarlep knew him better than anyone else, they knew what he needed and how often the two things - his wants and his needs - did not coincide. Devils were never shy about letting others know about their wants, but their needs were a far more closely guarded secret. A need was something that could and would be used against them, after all. 

There was no place for trust anywhere in Baator; everyone was suspicious of everybody else, and Raphael had been especially wary of the incubus his father and liege lord had gifted him. He’d questioned them immediately, demanding to know if they were meant to spy on him. He’d hoped that was the case, perhaps, if anything because it would mean Mephistopheles had a high enough consideration of him to think him worth keeping an eye on. But Haarlep was bound to speak the truth to him if asked directly, and that was not the answer they’d given.

“Don’t flatter yourself, little duke,” Haarlep had told him, smiling sweetly over the deed of ownership Raphael had been reading over and over, looking for loopholes that would allow Haarlep to lie to him and finding none. “One spies on a threat, and distracts an annoyance. I was sent to keep you busy, not to spy on you and much less to report. Make of that what you will.”

Raphael had raged over it, of course, because he’d known it to be true. Mephistopheles never saw him as any kind of threat: only an uppity half-fiend, a naughty whelp to keep out of his hair. He’d gifted him an incubus the way a mortal may gift crayons to a toddler, and turned to other matters without a second thought. It had been the most grievous slight, the final insult, and Raphael had departed Mephistar for Avernus shortly afterwards. 

But he had taken Haarlep with him. Whatever it was that kept Raphael tied to them - and not the other way around, as it was supposed to be - Haarlep could not say. All things considered, they had landed themself a rather cushy job. Raphael rarely even tried to return any of the pleasure he was given, but selfishness was in his nature and Haarlep had learned how to take that pleasure from him regardless.

They were in the process of doing so right now, after all.

“Answer me, little brat.” Haarlep bit his lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood but not quite. “Why should I fuck you, when you’re never so kind to fuck me in turn?”

A shudder, but this time there was defiance in the look Raphael gave them. “I’m your--” he began, only to trail off when Haarlep bit his earlobe, breath catching. 

“Careful, Raphael,” they murmured in his ear. “Remember who’s the master tonight.”

A shaky breath, a frown. “It’s not as though you ever ask for it,” he muttered, trying to move closer but held back by Haarlep’s grip around his neck. He shifted on his knees, painfully hard, when Haarlep laughed.

“The fact it’s hardly worth asking for doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be good form of you to offer. But that’s not where you belong, is it? You only find pleasure beneath me, looking up at me. Yes, exactly like this.” Haarlep sneered, meeting Raphael’s gaze, and could easily feel the rush of arousal, so intense it bordered on pain. They could smell it, taste it on their tongue, the need and the yearning while he looked at his own face.

“It gets a little tedious, I must say, using no other form of those I collected. Raphael only loves Raphael,” Haarlep had once told Korrilla, and she’d let out a thoughtful hum, sipping from a goblet of wine, looking out of the window at the sunless sky of Avernus.

“Well,” she’d said, no trace of humor in her voice, “I suppose someone has to.”

“Please,” Raphael choked out, and snapped Haarlep from their thoughts. He had squeezed his eyes shut, failing to hide tears of frustration. “Please, Haarlep.”

… Well. Since he was being so polite about it, it seemed only fair to give him what he wanted. Haarlep clicked their tongue, and finally pulled Raphael up, holding that fragile human body against their chest. They felt his cock press against their hip, and chuckled. How pent up he was, from all those days spent waiting for this little mouse to come sign the contract! No other mortal soul’s refusal to bend to his demands had ever worked him up like this - but then again, Haarlep knew there was much more at stake than the usual soul.

“You poor thing,” they cooed. “What would the little mouse say if she saw you like this?”

It was meant as a jest, and they were entirely unprepared for the shudder that rolled through Raphael’s body, the noise in the back of his throat, the way his hands clenched on Haarlep’s shoulders. They blinked.

Oh. Ooooh, this was new and very, very interesting . Haarlep laughed, delighted. They could not recall the last time Raphael had managed to surprise them. “Oh, have we found another body you may be willing to try? You only had to say so, Raphael. I could add it to my--”

“No,” Raphael snarled, pulling back to glare. It was almost convincing, even with the wet cheeks and not-quite-firm voice. “You’ll do no such thing, wretch. She’s vital to my plans.”

“Just the body.”

“I know you. You’d try to take her soul--”

“Surely, she’d know better than surrendering--”

“She holds the key to my future kingdom, and I forbid you to interfere!”

No one stupid enough to pledge their soul to an incubus was likely to hold any key to any kingdom, future or past, but Haarlep knew when to let a matter drop. So they claimed Raphael’s mouth in another kiss, ran a hand down his chest and stomach, and gripped his cock. They swallowed his cry, and smiled. Let him keep trying to come across as someone who belonged on a hellish throne; they knew the truth, what he was, what he needed. Perhaps he would rule the Hells one day - for all their mockery, Haarlep knew Raphael was a more than capable devil - but he would always submit to them. It was a gratifying thought. 

“I’ll content myself with your body, then. Turn, little duke, and I’ll make you whole.”

He did turn on shaky legs, but didn’t have to stand much longer. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Haarlep grasped Raphael’s hips and pulled him down on their lap, down on their - his - cock. He was slick and open, but not quite open enough , and he let out a groan when Haarlep stretched him further. The sensation of fucking himself always drew him to near madness, or at the very least to utter incoherence, and Haarlep always took full advantage of it. 

They saw no reason to make an exception now.

“There. It’s the only throne you need,” Haarlep whispered in his ear, canting up their hips and savoring Raphael’s moan like a fine vintage. They latched an arm around his neck, pulling his back flush against their chest. The other hand stroked slowly down his trembling stomach, claws scraping against skin. 

“Is it not your proper place? The only thing you wish to be seated on?”

A shudder, but he refused to answer. His hands grasped the arm around his neck, but made no attempt to pull it away. He whined in frustration when Haarlep immediately stilled. 

“Haarlep--”

“Say it,” they crooned, fingers barely brushing against Raphael’s cock, and he buckled against the touch, a whine in the back of his throat. Haarlep pulled the hand away, laughing, leaving him to buckle into nothing. “Say that it is, sweetling, and I’ll fuck you as hard as you wish.”

Raphael let out a noise that was halfway between a snarl and a moan, head rolling back against Haarlep’s shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, panting. “I… yes. Yes, it is, now move-- ”

“Oh no, my pet. Say it properly.” Haarlep’s claws grazed Raphael's chest, and they watched him writhe, biting his lower lip. His features twisted into something that looked a lot like pain, but he did speak, voice hoarse.

“Yes-- yes this is what I want,” he panted, flushed red, trembling. His fingers clenched on Haarlep’s arm while he uttered words he had never, and would never, let anybody else hear. “This is the throne I need-- please…! ”

The plea turned into a moan, because Haarlep was nothing if not generous. They rewarded his obedience with a sharp upward thrust of their hips; Raphael cried out, tossing back his head against their shoulder, pressing desperately down with all the weight of his human form. Which, to a devil’s strength and size, was not much. 

Haarlep fucked him in earnest, easily bouncing him on his lap. Moans filled the room and oh, it was sweet music indeed, the best possible use for that lovely voice of his; they only subsided when Raphael grew breathless, a boneless little doll in their hands, eyes rolling back a little. Haarlep grinned and nibbled at his ear, inhaling that scent of cherries and musk through the ever-present hint of sulfur. 

With the ring on, they could keep him like this for hours, fuck him through the night and the next morning. They could keep him like this for days if so they wished, on the edge of madness and unable to come. Maybe they would. After all, what was the rush--

A strangled noise snapped Haarlep from their thoughts. It sounded something like a startled squeak, and it had not come from Raphael. They looked up, a little startled, to see that they were not alone. 

Oh, this was delicious. The little mouse had certainly chosen an interesting moment to visit.

“Ah, good evening, little mouse,” Haarlep, who despite Raphael’s claims of the contrary never forgot their manners, greeted her. They were vaguely aware of the fact Raphael had let out an undignified noise and shuddered at the sight of her, but if anything his arousal had spiked and Haarlep saw no reason to stop fucking him. They only slowed the tilt of their hips, and took a better look at this mortal whose troubles Raphael had been following so keenly.

Truth be told, they had imagined something more impressive than the small, skinny thing standing before them in a frankly unflattering leather armor. Tiefling horns were often relatively unimpressive, but those adorning her head were little more than nubs, and something must have cut her right cheek quite badly to leave such an unsightly scar. Yet, this was one of the adventurers Raphael feared, in his nonsensical dreams, could somehow best him in his own game. Interesting; never judge a book by its cover and all that.

As someone who could take many forms, Haarlep probably shouldn’t have needed such reminders. They smiled, tilting their hips in a circular movement that made Raphael whine, too far gone to truly react or maybe unable, for once, to think of something to do or say. It seemed they would have to do the talking for both of them until he recovered. If he recovered. 

“Tav, I presume?” Haarlep smiled, and the tiefling startled a moment before nodding. Her eyes were wide and kept moving from Haarlep to Raphael and back, but she stayed where she was. “Oh, a pleasure to meet you, truly. I am Haarlep, Raphael’s personal incubus. Our Raphael here…” A sharp thrust, a shuddering gasp. “... Has been talking quite a lot about you, although he seems to have misplaced his voice at the moment.” 

As it turned out, this Tav had misplaced her own voice as well. 

“I…” was all she managed before she fell silent again, staring at Raphael. What a difference from how she must have seen him before, oozing misplaced confidence and all the charm of a used carriage salesman, probably subjecting her to some of his questionable poetry at every chance he got! Haarlep breathed in deep and there it was, a change to the taste and the smell of him - shame, curling in his stomach yet hardening his cock, heightening his arousal until it drove him half mad.

And, unless Haarlep was getting rusty - which they were not - someone else in the room was now giving out the very distinct taste and scent of arousal.

This was going to be their most interesting night in a long, long time.

“I assume you’re here to discuss a contract?” Haarlep spoke, and Tav swallowed before giving a quick nod, a nervous jerk of her head.

“... The thing,” she managed. 

Haarlep raised an eyebrow, still balls deep in Raphael, who yet again failed to muster up his voice to say anything, or even to move. They grinned and leaned their chin on Raphael’s shoulder, tilting their hips just enough to get yet another broken noise out of him. “You may want to be more specific. There’s a great many things in this place you may have come here to discuss. Interesting outfits, even more interesting toys, a somewhat concerning amount of riding crops…”

“The-- thing to-- I mean, the hammer to-- break the-- things,” was the stammering reply, and that caused Raphael to make a valiant attempt at straightening himself, and pushing himself off Haarlep’s lap, even though their arm was more than enough to keep him in place.

“The crown,” he rasped, face red and voice shaky despite his best efforts. “Leave-- leave, incubus, I have to-- we ought to--”

“Discuss? But of course,” Haarlep crooned, the grin so wide their cheeks almost hurt. “Why don’t you join us, little mouse? Get up close and discuss to your heart’s content. I won’t interrupt. I’ll just be doing my thing.”

“Haarlep--” Raphael groaned, any attempt at sounding threatening fading into another shudder, into mindless lust at their next thrust. Haarlep ignored him and focused on the little mouse, watched the look in her eyes change into something different, more calculating - the gaze of someone looking to exploit a moment's weakness. 

She ran her gaze over Raphael’s body, bit her lower lip, and then looked back up to meet his eyes. 

“May I, Raphael?” she asked, voice low, and Raphael gave a wordless groan, a wordless plea. She stepped closer, and Haarlep leaned their chin on top of Raphael’s head. They felt him tremble as she approached, watched his chest shudder when she lay a hand over it, and they thanked their lucky star they had chosen that evening to pay Raphael a visit.

This was going to be a very interesting negotiation indeed, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

*** [On to Act II]

[helpallthenamesaretaken]

EPISODE 6 (just realised no one is asking me to do this too bad) spoilers for series up ahead

ITS NOT A MUSICAL EPISODE 😭

Disney was too broke to show us the animals in the zoo truck WHYY

why am i so happy for the second seaweed brain, man the things being a pjo fan does to you

The way you could see luke’s smile drop when they say that they found the lightning thief (:) —> :/)

The way luke didn’t even let them finish he was like “CLARISSE YES CLARISSE SHE MUST BE THE ROBBER”

No one’s talking about “Chiron should arrest her” Not the mental image of chiron holding a gun saying “ANY WORD CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU IN COURT” while clarisse is pushed into a police car lollll

Old married couple im falling out of my chair plsssss if luke did something right in his life it was this

i love annabeth’s face like she knew this was coming the older brother-sister dynamic is POPPING

Disney really needed a way to show that grover liked animals and had convos with them without actually showing them lol

cue the “omg animals are so elegant” speech which served nothing at all

WHATS THE POINT OF ZEBRA TO VEGAS IF THERE AIN’T NO ZEBRA MR HOUSE OF MOUSE????

Idk but i kind of miss the trio action so far this show has only been percabeth + grover instead of percy + annabeth + grover you can tell they’re focusing more on fan service and developing percabeth than developing the more important dynamics which are the three of them having fun

oh HELLO RANDOM CAMEL WHO ISNT EVEN A ZEBRA BUT WHATEVER

“You are two seconds ahead of meeee” the simp eyes the simp eyes

The lotus casino from the outside is so COOL

LEVITATING BY DUA LIPA (some of yall still stuck in poker face era so im leaving it at that)

WISE GIRL I REPEAT WE GOT WISE GIRL (i was honestly expecting it to sound super corny on screen but walker pulled it off like he always does)

look im so mad about the fact that there’s no montage of them being silly little kids and having fun at arcade games. It hits so hard since percy has never afforded to visit fun places, annabeth has never left camp so is absolutely thriving with her architect games, grover is hunting down humans which was so funny and cool and they decided to make it more serious and plot centred

”ill take percy this way” WHY CAN’T GROVER TAKE PERCY THAT WAY HUH ANNABETH? 🤨 (girl just say you want to spend time with him)(and disney say you just wanna write more percabeth scenes)

I love the ‘if you dont know, i dont know either 😄’ mentality that percy has, he knows annabeth wants to be in charge now so he’s just feeding into the hubris

The augustus plot was so weird ngl but it was a great way to introduce the pan stuff

“Biaannncaaaaa biancaaaaaa” NICCOOOOOOO

He sounds so little and innocent and cute 🥺 im so sad now

GROVERRRRRR REMEMBERRRRRR

i gotta say, i guess that i was taken away by the people making fun of lin manuel miranda, but his acting was really really good

We got some may castellan exposition early

Percy thinking that the only thing he could do to sally was hurting her 🥹

i really hope they talk about that later on, you know we love some angst around here (especially with the dreams of the headmaster which was from the books!!! I was thinking that they’d cut it! But they didnt!! But it speaks volumes about percy that he has nightmares of headmasters)

I WANT ANNABETH FLASHBACK ANGST

annabeth pickpocketing the god of thieves will forever be her girlbossiest moment

”Im multitalented” percy: 😍💙🥰🥹 🤩(walker’s acting be that amazing is it not obvious by now that percy likes annabeth)

“Who’s grover ☺️?” “Wait, i know grover 😅!” Walker is cementing himself in the percy throne every single episode

”wow grover got really old😃”

“you lose sight of what’s important when you’re alone” “we weren’t alone 🥰” poor grover

The eons long wait to see how percy was hugging while falling the way down is finally over

The way that you can see percy’s empathy shining through his eyes as grover talked about pan>>>> (honestly tho, hug!)

the way they focused on percy’s reaction, i know this is going to be something he brings up as a reason for him to sacrifice himself for hades

Percy and annabeth looking at grover like “ ok mr. 24 DRIVE US”

Percy trying to drive a car will forever be cinema and comedy peak

The road rage this child has its so funny BEEP BEEP

annabeth: 😁 percy: 🥹 *cutely crashes car and almost kills her* PERCY IS TRULY GIVING A LOSER BOY WHO HAS NEVER HAD A GIRL LOOK AT HIM AND THATS SO PERCY OF HIM

the heartbreak in percy’s eyes alexa play the moment i knew by taylor swift

Four pearls?? *cue that one meme where that girl is calculating*

the way my smile faded when i saw annabeth hanging over the cliff TOO SOON RICK TOO SOON

[ursae-minoris-world]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @starlightvld- thank you!!! ☺️

1. How many works do you have on A03? 42! (neat!)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 140,503!

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly vld. I have a Good Omens fic and always want to write more and a few fandom that I'm tempted to write for, but I'm still very much in vld.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? - Breaking point (vld, sheith) ; A little mouse told me (vld, sheith); Flowers and Blood (vld, sheith); A cure to loneliness (Good Omens, ineffable husbands)

This gets long so I'm adding the rest under a read more!!

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! I do! Sometimes I can take a little long but I really enjoy talking with my readers!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Just a call... (vld, gen) I think! It's an open ending, but it ends up on a frustrating note (which was the point).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Oh man, they almost always have a happy or at least hopeful ending. Let's go with A little mouse told me (vld, sheith).

Oh, hey, fun anecdote! Someone commented on Stay with me (vld, sheith) to tell me it was the 200,000th work in the "happy ending" tag! They had just witnessed the tag going up to that number with my fic!

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so far, thankfully. (Happened once on fanart though, but it was just one dumb comment by an anti).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I haven't so far, I'm not really interested in writing it (never say never, though!).

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Well, I did 2 fairly recently for a crackship event! It was loads of fun. The craziest might be A Mysterious French Chef, which started as a Hunk&Remy idea, but ended up involving Hunk, Allura and the space mice for vld, and Linguini, Colette, and Remy for Ratatouille, and everyone interacting pretty significantly. I really loved mashing the 2 universes, and for something that started as a "crack" idea, it ended up working surprisingly well!!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of. I've had some original (anonymous) poems that I cowrote with a friend plagiarized down to using our actual pseudonym, but that wasn't in fandom or even online!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! Five times Shiro broke the rules, and one time Keith did with VirdisDrachen (vld, Shiro&Keith). It's based on a roleplay. Other than that, while it's mostly an artist+writer big bang collaboration, I think Square_Orange and I did discuss the plot a fair amount for Let It Snow! (vld, sheith).

I also have 2 fics that are remixes of other people's work, done for the sheith remix event : When you lived! (the “Enormous, within your small hands” remix) inspired by a fic by @annaofaza, and High Score! (the “I want us forever” remix) inspired by a fic by Tragedy_Machine.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? To no-one's surprise: sheith.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I am fairly good at finishing my wips, even if I do have some stuff that has been waiting for a while. I still have my notes about Keith grieving Shiro between s2 and s3 and how the team tried to support him and each other but how things became tense, that I wrote just after s3 aired! I still hope to get to it one day!

There's also the collab with VirdisDrachen tbh because we dropped the rp after a while and I wouldn't finish this alone. So I'm afraid this one will stay as is.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm good with dialogues and characterization? Themes like friendship, found family are my jam, too. Of course it's subjective.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am learning, but action and fight scenes are *hard*. (But I also love them? haha). On the exact opposite side, stories with very low stakes are sometimes hard to write, when it's just 100% fluff and no conflict, unless it's like, a short scene... It's easier with some emotional or romantic build up (ex mutual pining > getting together) but otherwise I really have to *think* to plot the fic. I'm so used to stories centered around conflict (in the literary sense, including inner conflict, not necessarily an actual fight).

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I agree with @starlightvld that if it's a language that I'm not personally fluent in, I'd look for a native speaker who might want to help or avoid it. Except maybe for conlangs, like Sindarin or Klingon. Although if I ever write in a fandom with something like that, I would f*cking love to get insight from one of these people who actually studied them and are fluent. In a more general way, I'd be cautious that it actually brings something to the story, that it makes sense to use the language that way, and to do it in a way that doesn't confuse readers too much (unless I am purposefully writing for those who know the language, I guess). I will say that I do love different languages to be aknowledged, like for vld fics that actually dig into the paladins having different languages, and the Galra and Altean also, and so on (ex fics where they have universal translators and then there are issues when they break or they can't rely on them for whatever reason).

19. First fandom you wrote for? Voltron! My first fic was a Hunk-centric gen fic, While some count sheep, and I'm still really fond of it!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Oh, that's hard, I like them all for different reasons. I do enjoy Carry me away for the sheith saving each other vibes. A little mouse told me (sheith written from the space mice pov) was such a fun exploration! Honestly, the most kudosed ones in question 4 are all fics I am proud of. To chose a lesser known one, I also love A special day , a vld gen Hunk-centric fic!

Tagging... @sodomhipped, @tomatocages, @an-aphorism @museaway @jacqulinetan @levyscripts @annaofaza and whoever wants to do this!

(also no pressure at all if you are tagged!)

[nikoisme]

Heyo!!! :D Some questions for you!

What are some of your fave parts of the Iliad and Odyssey? And then do you have a favorite by Euripides?

How long have you been drawing?

Since your "lovable little bastard" is a lil calico, does she have any neat patches/spots that are cute? Example, Teddy has a big stripe that curves across her neck, so I like imagining her having "necklace" haha. Does your lil lady have any spots that are cutely shaped? 🥺

(Good luck in school! :D Know I'm rooting for you!)

hello hello :DD this is a much needed break from studying oh god thank you.

For The Iliad,, BOOK 6, THE HECTOR, ANDROMACHE AND ASTYANAX SCENE. Book 10 also slaps obviously, night raid my beloved. The laments over Hector in book 24 too :')) It never fails to make me cry. But there's a tiny little specific part of The Iliad that is my absolute favorite - when Menelaus tells Antilochus that Patroclus was killed:

Idk man it feels so real and raw and hngngng. And Antilochus my man.

Now for The Odyssey i'm basic af but it's the reunion wih Telemachus, Penelope and Laertes :') hits right in the feels. The marriage bed story. The orchard. God fuck. Also the several little moments when Telemachus and Odysseus just,, exchange knowing smiles or glances with each other (when Odysseus is disguised as a beggar). It's just so neat i don't know why. Telemachus doesn't even know Odysseus and Odysseus doesn't know who his son is (yet!!), but they just kind of clicked together (when it came to scheming and plotting ofc. It's in their genes).

Tbh I haven't read too much of Euripides, I have quite a few plays sitting on my bookshelf waiting to be read. So i should probably, yknow, do that hahaa. But my favorite so far is Iphigenia at Aulis! It's just so heartbreaking and tragic and painful and ahdbagshjj. mannn.

I started drawing since I could hold a colored pencil lmaoo. i just did it sometimes as a kid, i liked it and was seen as the "art kid" in school (now that I think of it, I was actually more the "a pleasure to have in class" kid,, but hey i was the one people ran to during art projects lmaoo). It was 2020 when I really wanted to get into it - especially digital art, since I've been drawing on my phone and the family computer with a mouse in godforsaken Gimp up to that point - and I got my first drawing tablet the same year! Funnily enough I started drawing humans about... 1,5 years ago?? I was actually, lo and behold, a warrior cats artist for a few years :'DD

NOW. SHE HAS SO MANY SPOTS THAT I ABSOLUTELY ADORE. For example, all her paws are white - but only one is black with a single white toe:

And she has some incredible markings on her face if i can say so myself:

Especially since the orange marking goes in a straight line across her face, it's so neat. And her fluffy white neck/throat marking :D

And thank you for school AGJSJSDHHH. I have my last test on Monday so I should be finally free next week! The worst tests are over now, thankfully. This is hell :')

[iinryer]

If you could come up with the storylines for each Lone Star character (not Owen) for the next season, what would they be?

OH THIS IS A GOOD ONE… (not owen) made me laugh thank you. this didn’t end up being Quite what you asked but here are my hopes for s5!:

marjan is easy: comphet realization to lesbian arc. I don’t even need them to give her a gf i just want them to Address The Closeted Lesbianism they’ve been handing me over the past four seasons. i want salim to come back (in person or in conversation) for the rule of threes and have it force her to reckon with a lot of assumptions she had about herself. im on my hands and knees about it. I’ve been rewatching with a friend recently and i fucking forgot that they have her say a line about how her favorite place to hide as a kid was the closet. remember those new bts photos where she’s basically wearing the lesbian flag as a headscarf. lone star writers room i am IN YOUR WALLS. also i want to meet her sister. i need someone to call her mouse

nancy my beloved… honestly i just really want a nancy begins episode!! i want to know why she became a paramedic, i want to know about her relationship with her sister and if there’s any particular reason it was a soft spot for her during the DNR episode… I don’t have any particular ideas for specific i just want to know more about her!!! actually I’d love her to have to confront Tim’s death a little more directly. they made that whole thing about Owen which is fucking crazy to me, I’d love for the next time TK gets hurt (lol) for it to be something that dredges that up for her.

grace… miss grace i want to see you angry again. no plot line in mind i just like it when she’s pretending she doesn’t get angry or stubborn, she is such a fascinating character study. i love when she’s a contradiction. she and carlos teaming up was one of my favorite things abt s3, i would be so jazzed to see more things of that flavor.

tommy. hm… I don’t think I have any particular storylines for her in mind but I want more of her and grace and judd together because they are so delightful and lovely and best friends. OH ACTUALLY. I want something with tommy and charlie. this baby that was named in honor of the late love of her life. o don’t know what that story would be but there’s something there for sure…

carlos is the same as nancy tbh, I want a real full carlos begins! I want to meet his sisters! I want to see more of the mess that was growing up gay and feeling out of place and trying to be what your dad would want even though he thinks you’re too soft for it. why did he do it anyways! I also would love to see him and his mom being more involved, partially because obviously they had a horrible loss and trauma and she saw it happen but also because I love andrea:) she’s everything 2 me

judd I have been waiting for them to make you captain since SEASON THREE!! i want owen to retire and i want them to expand on the tension we got for the period he was captain!! i want to see how the dynamic changes and how his past issues come up when he’s in charge For Good. i want to see him get emotional about it and i want him to be captain while wyatt is his probie if they put him back on the firefighter track after his recovery :) bc that would be fun conflict and i think everything they did with owen (traumatically lost whole crew, son on your team) would be 100x better with judd

mateo is also a difficult one for specifics. I feel like they’re relatively fair with him? even with the low screentime all the secondary characters are relegated to. I’d be interested in seeing more fallout about his cousin, and I LOVED what they did with him and captain tatum so anything of that flavor of earnestness from him is always so good. maybe he and tatum will be buddies off the clock :)

tk getting hurt in increasingly absurd ways is always a classic that I look forward to them playing into lol

misc: i want to see more big brother wyatt with charlie getting a little older, i want less owen solo-plotlines, more ghost/memory gwyn i love her, carlos with his curls, the vega twins being involved in something maybe? that would be fun and stressful gjfhdhf

EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT PAUL. I ABANDONED MY BOY. ok paul deserves literally any kind of robust plotline. Paul begins for starters, but also so much of his trans plotlines feel a little fumbled. I want a really earnest well done episode that isn’t necessarily About him being trans, but his transness is a factor and it’s handled in a really genuinely good and relatable way. they OWE HIM AND US THAT!! i also would love to see more of the gay kids being in gay spaces :)

[housesitting & snowed in send enrichment to my enclosure]

[phantomoftheorpheum]

In my opinion, there were plot holes in the season that are really off-putting. But I also think the writers were just really unwise about their narrative time. With 2 episodes less than the first season, they did not balance their characters and storylines well.

I’m flabbergasted about the amount of time that was spent on the love triangle (I refuse to waste anymore brain power complaining about.. all of that). We could have had less of that in favor of:

- Giving Mouse a real storyline > making Ash more prominent, giving her grandmother an actual purpose or just cutting the character all together.

- Showing us the character development that they only tell us Greg has gone through.

- Follow through with Imogen’s mental health, hallucinations scares, and concerns for her child’s safety that were only relevant in the first half of the season.

- Make redemption house even more sinister and/or show characters like Kelly, Henry, or Greg noticing everyone around them becoming obsessed with Spooky Spaghetti. It would’ve been so easy to permanently write out Henry by making him one of Wes’/BR’s followers but of course they didn’t do that.

- Show at least a little bit of conflict between Mrs Langsberry and Tabby’s mom - opposing mothers defending the reputation of their children. Although I will say, this might have made it too obvious.

- Maybe even including more conflict by not waiting until the last episode to finally accuse each others partners.

Just some thoughts :P

I agree! I think the biggest issue with this season was the reduced runtime (I don't know if that was at all due to the writer's strike, but I hope they get an absolute minimum of 10 episodes if they do a third season), and the mismanagement of the time that they did have.

To address some of your points specifically- I also felt Mouse was super sidelined this season (yes, she is technically the person most intent on solving the mystery, but she's basically just around to info-dump at everyone else, not have any personal growth), and Ash was barely present. I was particularly disappointed by this, because I knew the actor's billing had been upgraded, so I thought we'd get noticeably more Ash.

Greg's redemption arc, if you can really call it that, since it seemed to skip the crucial "oh, he's questioning his ways and changing" part felt super rushed (as did Kelly's turn from 2x06-2x08). I think they did film more of it (since we know of some cut stuff), but since it didn't make it to the screen, it felt very strange that Faran suddenly liked Greg (I'm not saying they played it like she's in love with him or anything, but I feel like they skipped the middle bit between "he annoys the hell out of her and she really dislikes him" to "he's apologized and now they're hooking up,"). It was just too fast.

I definitely expected Imogen's mental health to ultimately play a bigger role than it did, considering how much time they spent on it.

It is hard to believe Mrs. Beasley, Pastor Malachi, Kelly, Greg, (and presumably Henry, since they never reveal him as an antagonist) didn't notice that there was an entire additional cult in their cult.

The scene where all the girls started bickering about their SOs was one of my favorites from the finale. It felt so realistic that they wouldn't all just be on board with these new people they don't know at all (and most of them didn't interact with the new love interests that weren't their own almost at all) and assume they're all great. It was refreshing to see the girls disagree and take a few jabs at each other, because while I love them supporting each other, those moments of coming together feel like they mean less when they're all just always on the same page.

As a writer and creator myself, I understand that it is much easier to criticize than it is to create, but one of the big advantages of collaboration is that theoretically you have a lot of people looking at your work with a critical and constructive eye and shaping the story into the best version of itself. This season felt like it really could have used some editing and refining (in the writing process, before you even get to the film editing) to streamline the storylines and not get too bogged down in areas that don't pay off.

To leave things on a high note- I really did have fun watching the show this season & trying to puzzle things out. I just feel there were some pretty glaring flaws, as well.