#Spark Generator Replacement

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 1)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: When Vox proves incapable of cutting Valentino out of his sex life despite his many reassurances, you decide to break it off with him and leave for good. He doesn’t take it so well.

Just to be clear, reader is an artificial intelligence demon, looks super realistic and human-like, but is actually composed of nanotechnology. She was human once though, like all of the other sinners.

INSPIRED BY THIS POST

Part 2—> Chapter Index

"Y/n?" Charlie poked her head through your door. "There's uh, someone here to see you."

You narrowed your eyes, rising from your bed. A bone-weary sigh escaped you. It was obvious who your supposed "visitor" was. "Did you tell him I'm busy?"

Charlie pursed her lips, looking down. Great, so that meant he was throwing a temper tantrum. And she wanted you to sort him out.

"Alright, fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I'm coming." She was generous enough to let you stay, after all. The least you could do was clean up your messes.

When you finally reached the main floor, Vox and Alastor looked about two seconds away from clawing each other's faces off. Cyan blue electricity was sparking along Vox's entire body, and Alastor's shadows curled dangerously behind him, ready to attack at his call.

Seeing him made a hot fury like no other claw its way up your throat. "What the fuck are you doing here?" You growled lowly, balling your fists at your sides.

At the sound of your voice, Vox immediately broke away from Alastor, a giant smile spreading across his screen. "Sweetheart! There you are!"

You stormed up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him harshly into a corner. You let go of him once you were sufficiently out of earshot of the others, crossing your arms and leveling him with a furious glare. "You have five seconds to explain yourself."

"Okay, let's just calm down for a second here," he chuckled, but it was an empty sound. "Is it really that weird for me to want to check up on you? After all, you kind of just disappeared," his smile strained.

"Has it ever occurred to you that the reason you couldn't find me was because I don't want to see you?" You smiled sardonically, patience running thin.

"Uh, what?" He laughed, but his smile was frozen. "Why would you not want to see me?"

That was the last fucking straw. "Are you that fucking delusional, Vox?" You snapped, poking him harshly in the chest. "When I said I was done, I meant it. This," you gestured between the two of you. "Is over. I'm done."

Vox twitched, electricity sparking off sporadically from his antennae. He stared at you in stunned silence, his breathing starting to pick up speed as he processed your words. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were being untruthful, and when he found none, he glanced up at the small crowd of residents and staff gathered, only to lock eyes with a smug Alastor.

Vox's screen glitched, his features twisting in a rage. "So you're replacing me with the radio fucker now, is that it?"

"Oh, really?" You narrowed your eyes. "Just like you replaced me with Valentino?"

"That's different," Vox gritted out.

"Is it?"

"Yes, for one, Val isn't some archaic cannibalistic fucker with a vendetta against me!"

"Who has the vendetta against who here? Cause it seems like you're the one who can't let things go." You watched him splutter on his bullshit for a few seconds before you shook your head in exasperation, the pounding pressure increasing at your temples. "Alright, that's it, we're done here. Get out."

"Y/n," he narrowed his eyes. "You need to think about this."

"Oh I've had plenty of time to think," you grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to bare your teeth menacingly. "Now get out before I put a goddamn virus in your software Vox!" Your face pixelated from rage at the end of your sentence. You let him go with a harsh shove.

For a long moment nobody spoke, a tense silence blanketing over the two of you. You glared at him venomously, chest still heaving from your outburst. And him, he was looking at you like he'd never seen you before. Good, you thought spitefully. It's finally getting through to him.

Vox's mouth hardened into a thin line, his sharp claws nearly drawing blood from his palms. "Why here?"

You closed your eyes. "It’s not a forever thing. I just—I need to be away from everything for a little while, okay?" Everything that we've built together. Reminders of you. "No flashy shit, no fast life, no technology—"

"You're an A.I. model," he said dully.

"Yeah well, you win some you lose some," you sighed, rubbing at your temples. "Look, I don't want to say it again. Leave Vox, I'm serious."

For a hot second, it looked like you were ripping his entire world apart and stomping on the broken pieces, the way he looked at you so lost, before he hastily pulled himself back together. "Fine," he spat out. It sounded like it physically hurt him to say it.

He lifted his chin, adjusted his lapels, and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door so hard it blew straight off of its hinges, blue sparks of electricity still sizzling from it.

For a few seconds, a thick tension suffocated the room, as everyone took the time to process the shit show they'd just witnessed.

"Well, that was fun!" Alastor's cheery voice punctuated the silence. You glared at him tiredly.

***

If you thought that he would give up like you so nicely asked, you were sadly mistaken.

Turned out it was just a pre-game warm up for this asshole.

At least thrice a week, he made sure to fuck up your peace somehow. Last time it was spray painting the entire hotel electric blue (how, you didn't even want to know). The time before that, it was trying to sneak some of his peeping gadgets in through the window. And the time before that, it was putting your name up on every billboard in the goddamn city with a red heart next to it.

Now, you stood incredulously in front of half of the hotel. As in, the other half was missing. Blown off by a fucking missile. You couldn't make this shit up if you tried.

"What the fuck is going on?" You gritted out, before taking a deep, calming breath.

Vox's electric laughter rang out from a speaker of unknown source. You turned angrily to face the open air.

"Pathetic," he jeered. "You still want to shack up with these losers, Y/n?"

You shook your head slowly, laughing in disbelief. "Wow," you said sarcastically. "You really showed us, didn't you? Feel better about yourself now?"

You punctuated your sentence with a glare, before turning and storming towards the remaining half of the building.

Vox watched you from twenty different angles across his screens. The moment you turned your back, his wide, toothy grin dropped, eyes squeezing shut. He slammed mute on his microphone.

“FUCK!” He banged a fist on the table, breathing heavily. It had been two weeks already, and you still hadn’t come back to him. He was getting desperate now.

A quick glance at the screen showed Alastor’s glitching picture. The radio bastard snapped his fingers with a raised brow, the missing half of the hotel repairing itself instantly.

“Fucking show off,” Vox growled raggedly.

He needed to change tactics. And fast.

***

Nothing. He had nothing.

No plans, no blueprints, no smart and suave moves to get you back.

Every scenario he ran through his head would inevitably end with you walking away from him. If only he could hypnotize you like with everyone else—but you were a tech demon, just like him. More advanced, even. Your firewalls were just too strong.

Vox poured himself another glass of scotch, solemnly glaring up at the ceiling in frustration.

A clawed hand clasped his shoulder, making him grit his teeth.

“You’re looking a little tense, Cariño,” Valentino purred, trailing his fingers up Vox’s neck. “I can help with that~”

Vox shrugged him off, annoyed. “Not in the mood, Val.”

But Valentino was undeterred. “Is this about Y/n?” He murmured, knowing he hit the nail on the head when the other demon tensed considerably. “What’s so special about that bitch anyway, hm? Is it the pussy? You know I’ve got whores lined up for you, baby. Just say the word and—”

“Fuck off, Val!” Vox exploded, electricity sparking in his eye. “I don’t want just any random bitch from the street, okay?! I want Y/n. I want her back,” he spat miserably.

Valentino went silent, his face twisting into a cruel expression. “Don’t you understand?” He growled. “She left you. Betrayed you. And she’s not coming back, ever. The sooner you see that and stop wasting your time, the better.”

He turned away, his heels clacking against the marble floors until the double doors swung closed behind him.

Vox let out a frustrated yell, arcs of electricity shooting out from him and shattering his expensive collection of drinking glasses to smithereens.

***

A tap sounded at your window, making you tense.

Slowly you approached it, generating a pistol from your nanotech and holding it tightly to your chest. You peered out of the blinds, only to find your ex dangling from the window sill.

“Holy shit!” You screeched, jumping back.

“A lil’ help?” he grinned lazily, reaching out for you. You grasped his hand, hauling him inside of your room.

The unmistakably pungent scent of alcohol invaded your senses, making your wrinkle your nose.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you drunk?” You dragged a hand down your face.

“No,” he hiccuped, shaking his head vehemently, which caused him to lose balance. You grabbed his shoulders, righting him before he fell and broke his screen.

“Oh yeah,” his face lit up in realization, before he reached behind him, pulling out a bouquet of slightly squashed roses. “For you,” he slurred, offering them proudly.

You looked at them in exasperation, before taking them gently from his hands. Bringing them up to your face, you closed your eyes, sniffing them slightly. A sweet floral scent filled your senses as you regarded them.

“They’re pretty,” you remarked quietly.

“Yeah,” he grinned, your eyes flickering up to catch his. “But you’re prettier.” At your lack of reaction, his grin faltered, and he looked down.

“I…” he started, swaying slightly. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t do this.”

“Please come home,” he continued, expression drooping sorrowfully. He clasped your hand, looking up at you pleadingly. “I’ll…I’ll do better, I promise.”

The ache in your heart grew almost unbearable the more you looked at him, so you averted your gaze. “Why don’t you ever say that when you’re sober?”

Vox let go of your hand, sliding down the wall until he landed on his ass. “Scared,” he mumbled.

You crouched down in front of him, lifting his hanging head from his arms. “Of what?” You said gently.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and the raw emotion nearly stole your breath away. “You still won’t want me.”

“Vox…” You closed your eyes, pained.

“Come home,” he whispered hollowly. “Please.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you said thickly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He looked at you sadly, but resigned. “Yeah, I know,” he lowered his screen back into his arms. “…miss you,” he trailed off quietly, before soft whistling snores could be heard.

You dropped your face in your hands, breathing raggedly. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. You had almost fucking caved.

After a moment to compose yourself, you searched his pockets, pulling out his phone (he didn’t even change his password) and dialing a familiar number.

“What the fuck do you want now, Vox?” An irritated feminine voice answered the line.

“Velvette,” you said cooly. “I need a favor.”

****

Part 2 —> Chapter Index

[tarottaleteller]

* Disclaimer: This reading is for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional reading. Please take what resonates, leave what doesn't. It is my first public reading ever, so, hopefully, y'all will like it!

Pile 1

The Sun, 8 of Cups, King of Pentacles, Emperor

Hey, Pile 1! I feel crazy chemistry here, literally the sparks will be flying all around. It’s like both of you are just so overjoyed to be with each other that you can’t help but feel like little children around each other, giggling and having fun. Love is in the air with you two here. Most likely, the sex will happen after you guys have already confessed love to each other. The sex with them will make you forget about all the exes you had before lol. You are literally going to outshine any other partners each of you had before. Also, your partner will make you see sex completely differently, you might change your attitude and views on sex with your FS. 

With the King of Pentacles and Emperor, if you are feminine, your partner will be extremely masculine and most likely will take the lead during your first time. I hear “Just relax, darling”. There might also be some sort of aesthetic pleasure, perhaps you’ll do it in a fancy hotel room or with rose petals on the bed, etc. The sex itself might be slow, the masculine will really want to take his time to enjoy the feminine and taste her. I see that the feminine will just completely give up control and give in to the pleasure. The feminine here will feel 100% safe and secure with the masculine.

Pile 2 

3 of Cups, 7 of Swords, 6 of Pentacles, Justice

This one is interesting. You and your FS will be at a party or some sort of celebration. Might be a bit drunk. I see a couple just drinking and enjoying the moment. Lots of flirting and teasing, exchanging knowing looks across the room, as in “I want you”, “I’m ready”, “Tonight is the night” kinda looks. Then one of y’all will just come up with some lie to leave the party early and stay alone. Or you might literally just sneak out of the place without even telling anyone lol.

Damn, I see you having long ass foreplay. Not because one of you feels insecure or anything like that. It just feels like you two can't get enough of each other. Can’t stop kissing your partner, can’t let go of their body, you just want to devour each other. I see you standing next to the bed, making out like crazy because you’re that hungry for each other. At some point, one or both of you will end up on their knees. Generally, heavy focus on oral here. Like you will feel like you have to thoroughly enjoy each other before even getting to the actual business. There will be a very good balance though, none of you will give more than they will receive. Both of you might just forget about your own pleasure and focus on making your partner feel good. I don’t necessarily see you being in serious relationships before that, after the first sex, however, you might actually see your partner as your potential FS.

Pile 3 

Ace of Wands, Magician, 6 of Cups, 2 of Cups

With the Ace of Wands popping out of the deck, there is definitely going to be a lot of passion here haha. You two are literally burning for each other. I see the masculine here being the initiator though. So, probably both of you feel the desire equally, but the masculine is just more direct and straightforward with it. He might also be a little impatient since this card literally flew out of the deck lol. But he will definitely know what he’s doing. Magician is a master at his craft y’all, he will make you FEEL things. I actually feel quite dizzy just thinking about it. Just as in Pile 1, the masculine will sort of say something like “Just lay down and relax, love” and will do absolute wonders with your body. 

I don’t see just intense attraction here, you will actually love the heck out of each other. With the purest love possible. I see the feelings here being demonstrated very sincerely and openly. Both of you just blindly trust each other. Both the 6 of Cups and the 2 of Cups indicate soulmates or twin flames, if you believe in those, so you will definitely see each other as “The One”. The love here is very deep and you absolutely adore each other and will do anything for this love to grow. The connection will already be incredibly strong here by the time the first sex happens for sure. Aw, Pile 3 this was too cute.

Pile 4

9 of Cups, Knight of Cups, Queen of Cups, King of Swords, Judgement

Right away, lots of Cups energy here, so the feelings will be strong here. First of all, both of you will see each other as a literal dream come true. Everything you wanted in your partner, you will find in your FS. Total satisfaction with each other, you’re each other’s ideal type. The masculine in this pile is naturally a colder, more reserved individual. However, with the feminine, he will show himself as a gentle and loving man. Wow, the masculine will just be insanely in love here. He will be ready to give up anything for his woman. She will wake the emotions and love in him. 

That will translate into sex as well. I see that scene from the Game of Thrones, where Deyeneris started looking directly in the eyes of Khal Drogo during sex to deepen the connection and eventually they fell in love. That kind of dynamic. If you are a feminine, you will soften the masculine with your love and affection. I see the feminine holding control in the bedroom, but not necessarily actionwise, but rather it will be mental power like she controls both of her and his emotions to make the sex fully satisfying. The masculine, on the other hand, will be responsible for the action itself, holding control over both of their bodies. There is also a strong feeling that even before sex you might be already talking about creating a family, having kids, etc. Or it’s also possible that the sex will happen on the wedding night. 

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 4

A/N: Confrontation time. Here we go, y'all. I'm tagging this as borderline non-con for the ending. It steps into some murky territory that some may feel uncomfortable with. But hey, we're dealing with AA, after all. I'll also be linking a post reference within the text here; please click the link when you see it! It'll help you visualize a certain part. 🌝 Thank you all for the support thus far! I hope you enjoy reading ❤️

Rating: Explicit Word count: 7.7k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (named) Warnings: 18+, non-con (somewhat; literally touches the border of it), absolutely dubcon, mentions of pregnancy, mention of virginity loss, loss of innocence, manipulative behaviors, toxic relationship, discussions of death and murder, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, PiV sex, PiV sex while pregnant, blood drinking, mother-fuckin' vampire sex boiiiiiiiiii (sorry these tags are way too serious and I am not)

Summary: Tav arrives at the Crimson Palace, poised for a confrontation with Astarion. A delicate dance ensues.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust as she enters, but once they do, the sight before her nearly robs her of all speech and reason.

Illuminated by candelabras, Tav gasps in awe at the renovations to the interior of the manor. The once drab and outdated decor has been ripped out, heart and soul, and replaced with… white. So much white.

White walls, white marble flooring with golden accents, tall white marble columns. A generous crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, Tav looking up. Her vision comes down to settle on the plush red carpet lining the foyer, stretching through the hall and into the ballroom. The reflection of the candlelight shimmers along the marble floors. A sunset on the water… Tav notes offhandedly to herself. 

A commemoration to their moment of triumph over the Absolute.

They all stood atop the dock watching the sun set over the horizon, sunlight glinting off the sea. The moment the tadpole vanished, Astarion became free. Truly and completely free. 

A life regained, a future unwritten. 

Reborn anew.

As she continues to drink in the new additions to the palace, Tav sees a figure approach from the corner of her eye. She turns her head to observe an older human woman making her way down the carpet, a smile set upon her slightly wrinkled face.

“Good evening, young miss,” the woman greets with a short bow. “Have you come to ask for an audience with Lord Ancunín?”

Tav remains silent for a moment as she quickly gives the woman a glance over. Gray hair with a time-worn face, albeit one that still shows the beauty she once beheld. She wears a simple long black dress with long sleeves, a white apron tied around her waist. Her shoes are black with a big metal buckle adorning the top of each. “I beg pardon for my current appearance,” the woman offers, giving the apron a quick pat down. “It isn’t often we have visitors this time in the evening.”

“No…” Tav begins, voice trailing off as she regroups her thoughts. “Not an audience, no. I’m…” Her chest thumps as she ponders their relationship. “...A friend of Astarion's. Is he home?”

“The young Master is in, yes; though I'm afraid he's currently occupied.” As if sensing Tav’s disappointment, the woman questions, “May I ask who you are?”

Tav nods her head respectfully. “I'm Tav.” The woman quirks a questioning brow. “Tavaria,” she adds quickly. “I was a traveling companion to Astarion over a year ago.” 

And much more…

A spark shoots across the woman's vision and Tav recoils backward, readying herself. 

“Ah!” the woman exclaims joyfully, “Lady Tavaria!” The woman bows earnestly. “Lord Ancunín extends his warmest greetings to you. Welcome to the Crimson Palace.”

With a smile, Tav softens her stance. She bows in return. “Thank you. It's… definitely different than before,” she comments while looking around the room.

“Ah, yes,” the woman agrees, “Master Astarion has renovated the manor to his distinct liking after the untimely passing of its prior occupant.”

“I see,” Tav states with a laugh. “This is all… very Astarion.” Elegant and refined.

All for show. 

Continuing her observation of the room, a painting hanging on the middle wall catches Tav's eyes. She walks toward the painting, stopping just in front of it.

It's a black and white piece, looking to have been drawn in charcoal, depicting a man and woman sharing an intimate embrace. Both are naked, the woman's face obscured by her pose as she bows her back while offering her throat to the man. His head rests within her neck, his long black hair flowing down his back. The accompanying piece focuses solely on the man. The lustful look demonstrated in the man's half-lidded eyes as he looks up from the woman's throat has Tav shaking where she stands. 

She's seen that look before. Not unlike how Astarion has looked at her.

The servant woman smiles, still standing in the same spot, clasping her hands together. “You must be exhausted, dearie,” she says, cutting through the silence. “Shall I direct you to your chambers?”

Tav blinks rapidly and turns her head to the woman. “I’m sorry, but did you say ‘my chambers?’” She shakes her head with a short laugh. “I don't live here.”

“But of course, my lady,” offers the servant. “Master Astarion has asked that we offer it as an option should you ever visit the manor.” She nods her head with another beatific smile. “There is no obligation. It is simply a kind gesture.” She bows, courteously, “My apologies for any offense I may have given, Lady Tavaria.”

Tav nods briefly, turning away from the woman as her mind races. He made me a bloody bedroom? She lifts her head and once again finds the picture on the wall. A chill travels up her neck as she locks eyes with the intense gaze of the man in the painting. Her breath hitches.

“Do you know when Astarion will be available?” Tav asks hurriedly, looking toward the woman.

The servant shakes her head. “I'm afraid I do not, though I can set you up in the study while you wait?” Smiling again, the woman walks across the room to a set of double doors on the far right. She opens them wide and gestures to Tav, welcoming her to enter.

Clutching her satchel, Tav walks through the threshold and into the office. It's rather standard when compared to the rest of the manor; dark green carpeting and wood panel walls. Multiple bookcases that are carved into the walls, holding a plethora of tomes. A couple glass display cases are near the large window on the far side of the room. The evening sunlight pours in from the wide window and onto the chaise lounge adjacent to it; a relaxing spot for one who wishes to bask in the sun. 

The solid, dark wooden desk across from the double doors has a number of loose papers strewn about the top. An ornate wooden chair sits behind the desk, purple velvet upholstery with golden Damask patterns lining the back and seat. Two simple royal blue armchairs sit before the desk, signaling the office’s likely use for business gatherings.

“Please, make yourself at home,” the older woman says from behind as she enters the room. She walks over to the desk and gathers the documents into a single pile. “Would you care for something to drink, my lady? I'd be happy to bring you something after informing Lord Ancunín of your presence.”

Tav turns her head in acknowledgement of the older woman. “I'm quite well, thank you.” She furrows her brow. “Though, I didn't catch your name before.”

The woman freezes momentarily before bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaims in embarrassment, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Where are my manners today?” She quickly bows. “Magdalena, my lady. A true pleasure to make your acquaintance. My sincerest apologies.”

“It’s quite alright, Magdalena. No harm done,” Tav says with a calming wave of her hand. She walks toward the grand window and turns to face the older woman again. “Thank you for your hospitality thus far. I’ll settle myself in.”

With a nod of her head, Magdalena begins to exit the study. “Of course, Lady Tavaria. I’ll inform Master Astarion of your presence at once.” The doors close behind her with a soft click, and suddenly, Tav is alone.

She removes the satchel from around her chest, depositing the bag onto the chaise lounge. Her hat and scarf are next to join as she shakes out her hair. Tav tries to look through the frosted glass window without success. The opacity is too intense to make out anything more than muddled blobs. Turning around, she begins to walk the perimeter of the room, stopping in front of a large glass display case with a large book resting within. The cover of the book is adorned with skin, stitched into the pattern of a screaming face. An amethyst jewel sits within the face’s open mouth. Tav recalls the long nights and early mornings Astarion spent reasoning with this book until finally uncovering its secrets.

The Necromancy of Thay. 

Of course he kept it.

She continues on, noting each small trinket that sits within the shelves of the grand bookcases. Slipping her hands behind her back, Tav peers over the wooden desk and observes the pile of documents on top. She pops her head up to briefly scan the room. Satisfied that she has clear advantage, she takes a hand to swipe over the letters.

There are various invitations to grand balls in distant kingdoms, letters of gratitude from high nobles, bills of sale… Tav’s eyes widen as she spots a familiar name amongst the many signatures.

With deepest admiration, Araj Oblodra

Tav reaches over and picks up the letter off the desk, holding it steady with both hands as she skims through the contents. From what she gathers, it sounds as if Araj has learned of Astarion’s new circumstances. She’s highly apologetic for her past behavior and would very much like an opportunity to show her sincerest gratitude. The letter goes on further to imply that they take the chance to get to know one another better, and perhaps they can even become  allies. 

Tav scoffs as she places the piece of paper back down on the desk. 

She resumes her roaming when she settles on a small jewelry case on the top left of the desk. Walking around the edge, Tav fixates on the case, a startled gasp slips past her lips as she recognizes the jewelry within.

Resting atop a red velvet cushion lay a golden ring with a turquoise stone in its center. One half of a matching set of rings she had found during their journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Tav was in possession of both rings for quite some time, going back and forth with herself about whether giving him one half would be too much. 

She’d grown to like him; really-really like him, but she’d no idea if he felt the same. It wasn’t until the night of Astarion’s confession that Tav made her decision. Feeling the tension within his body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, yet fighting through his hesitation to return her embrace. It was enough to convince her that he truly did want to give them a try. 

She presented the ring to him the following morning as they packed up camp.

“...A bit soon for a proposal, no?” quips Astarion, expression smug.

Tav stands before him. A ring with a golden aura lays within the palm of her hand, held out in silent offer. “N-no!” she stammers, the ghost of a blush tinting her cheeks. She averts her gaze as she says, “It's an enchanted ring.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow in question. “I can see that quite clearly, dear. But what does it do?”

Turning to look at him under her eyes, Tav replies shyly, “...It allows me to cast a special protection spell on you.” Her cheeks burn hot, her skin beginning to prickle.

His eyes darken as he leans forward. “Oh,” Astarion teases, voice velvet, “you wish to be my Knight?” He begins to move into her, hovering his lips just above hers. “You want to save a poor, innocent maiden such as I,” he coos. “Is that it, darling?”

They spent the majority of the following night rutting feverishly against one another, sharing a mutual need to scrub their underclothes in the river the morning after. From that point forward, each wore their respective ring around the fourth finger of the left hand.

Commotion outside the office brings Tav back to the present. She hears the voice of a woman, though not of the servant from earlier. Tav sneaks closer toward the doors, placing her ear to the wood to hopefully catch some of the conversation.

Still muffled, she thinks with a scowl. Drawing a deep breath in, Tav makes a quick split decision and grabs hold of the doorknob, twisting it gently. She feels the lock unlatch and pulls the door open just enough to allow for a small sliver of visibility. Tav strains against the door as she tries to find a better angle. 

A tall elven woman with long blonde hair stands in the foyer exchanging words with Magdalena. Dressed in professional attire, she hands the maid a business card as they exchange pleasantries. Tav catches the woman's head beginning to turn toward the direction of the office and Tav quickly steps out of sight, holding her breath, heart flying within her chest. A few moments pass without incident before Tav slowly inches toward the crack in the door. She finds Magdalena bowing as the elf takes her leave of the manor.

There isn't much time to ponder who this mysterious woman is – the sound of footsteps marching along marble flooring fills the air. 

“Good evening, Master,” greets Magdalena, kneeling in a curtsy.

“Good evening, my dear.” A man's voice, deep and smooth. Perfectly poised. Her stomach lurches; she knows that voice.

Tav holds her breath as talk continues just beyond the door. She quickly scans the room to determine which is closer – the blue armchair sitting before the desk, or the chaise lounge near the window. 

As the man's footsteps draw closer to the door Tav bolts for the armchair, sitting promptly. She adjusts herself to appear as if she's been waiting patiently for his arrival all this time. 

“Odd that the door is already open,” Tav hears the man comment from just beyond the door. 

Shit. 

A flash of embarrassing heat crawls up her neck. Magdalena mutters something to Astarion under her breath, but it's too quiet for Tav to make out. The doors suddenly swing open and Tav remains still, trying desperately to settle the overactive current that is her nerves.

She smells him first before she sees him – the signature scent of rosemary, bergamot and brandy encompassing the quaint office. “Thank you, Magdalena. Now, please, carry on,” he says smoothly. 

Tav hears the man begin to approach from behind, placing the palms of his hands atop her shoulders. “I’m sure you've done a fine job at making our Lady feel welcome, hmm?” He squeezes her shoulders, Tav flinching beneath his grasp.

Tav tries desperately to resist the urge to look at him. When she closes her eyes she envisions the sharpness of his jaw behind her mind's eye, coupled with the smell of his cologne that’s currently assaulting her senses – she simply cannot look at him. If she does, she's going to fall.

She'll forget about the murders. Forget how angry she is that he dared come to her in a state of blood-crazed lust. That she carries a child he knows nothing about, that he can never know anything about.

If she looks at his face, so perfectly sculpted by the Gods themselves, she's going to forget every reason as to why she should stay far, far away from this man. Longing for nothing more than to fall into his arms for the rest of eternity.

“Y-yes,” Tav replies, nervously. “You've been ever so kind, Magdalena. Thank you.” Finally, she turns, eyes meeting with the servant woman. Tav feels the pale elf's searing gaze upon her skin as she deliberately looks past him, the hands on her shoulders relaxing.

“Wonderful,” he sings with a wave of his hand. “Now leave us, Magdalena.” He walks around Tav, coming to lean against the lip of the office desk. “The Lady and I have much to discuss,” he purrs, leaning over as he places a hand upon her jaw. Slowly he tilts her face upright, staring directly into her eyes. “Isn't that right, love?”

Within an instant, she feels faint. An unsettling warmth begins to spread. “Yes, Astarion,” Tav murmurs softly as his fingers slip down her neck. Her eyes flutter closed as the hand inevitably falls free of her. Astarion slowly leans back and upright, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He breaks eye contact to focus on Magdalena.

The servant woman bows, closing the doors behind her with an audible ‘thud’ as she takes her leave. The room is silent then. Tav’s heart pounds in her ears as she stares beyond Astarion again, focusing on the ring box at the corner of the desk. She only realizes how rapidly she's breathing as the sound reaches her ears.

“Are you alright, dear?” Astarion’s smooth voice cuts through. “You look as though you've seen a ghost.”

Raising her head, Tav meets his eyes. He stands before her, concern written across his features. For a split second, Tav sees him – the dashing rogue she fell in love with.

The way Astarion is knitting his brow, wide glassy eyes studying her. It's all very much like him. 

“I’m fine,” she forces out, swallowing hard.

“Did Magdalena offend you?” Astarion asks urgently.

Tav shakes her head. “No, she truly has been pleasant.”

He leans over her again. Astarion drags a finger delicately up the side of her cheek. “Then why do you cry?”

Immediately Tav raises a hand to her opposite cheek. Moisture coats her fingertips as she finds a stray tear rolling down her cheek. She’s unsure when or why she’s begun to weep, wiping the tear away with the back of her hand. Tav pulls herself out of Astarion’s touch with a slight groan.

“I-I’m fine, really,” she insists. “I… came to see you.”

The vampire's expression softens as he tilts his head. “I haven't come to you in some time,” Astarion says, walking toward a carafe of wine sitting atop a metal cart near the window. “I apologize for that.” He speaks over his shoulder, pouring the wine out into a glass. He gestures with the carafe briefly to Tav; she shakes her head. “Although, I can't say I anticipated you showing up here.” Placing the carafe back down on the cart, Astarion turns, lips pulling into a smirk as he brings the wine glass to his lips. “Is it true then, what they say? Has absence made your heart grow fonder?”

Tav stands and turns to Astarion, giving him a full glance over. He wears a simple white dress shirt, the top few buttons undone revealing glimpses of his sculpted chest. His trousers are something she’s unfamiliar with – a type of woven cotton in a particular vertical design, and dyed blue. Indigo blue. He's wearing a black belt, threaded into loops within the pants around his hips. Tav imagines there's a fastener under the belt buckle, but also something else to help secure the garment. Something metal running down the front seam of the pants. Her eyes finish their course down his legs to find a simple pair of polished black loafers.

“...I'll take that as a yes,” Astarion comments with a quirk of his brow. He returns from across the room to once again take his place leaning against the desk in front of Tav, setting the wine glass down.

“N-no,” Tav blurts out, “I mean yes, but…” She feels the warmth of embarrassment crawl up her neck, nipping along her skin as it floods her face. 

A hand rises to move her hair gently aside. Astarion leans forward and dips his head into the crook of her neck, planting chaste kisses along the tender flesh. “I missed you,” he whispers into her skin. Hot puffs of breath spread over her neck and Tav shudders. Almost instinctively, she raises her head to allow Astarion better access to her throat; her eyes flutter closed. His hand in her hair winds around the back of her head, gently guiding Tav’s head further to the side before falling to her hip. 

Tav gasps as Astarion pulls their bodies flush against one another. His arousal has yet to awaken, though she can still feel the outline of him against her core. She groans as he rolls her hips into her again and again; slow, languid thrusts that have bolts of pleasure shooting up from between her thighs and spreading like wildfire through her body.

“Astarion…” Tav protests weakly, raising a hand to cover Astarion's on her hip. “I didn't come here for this.”

He purrs into her throat, gently nipping and teasing the skin around her scars with blunted teeth. “Oh, no? Are you sure?” Astarion pulls her into him again while imitating a piercing bite into her neck.

She moans, louder than she means to, finally feeling the rigidness of his cock firmly against her sex. Her head falls against his shoulder as he continues rolling his hips against her, hardly noticing Astarion moving his hand from her hip to her lower back. A spark of panic zaps through her addled mind as she realizes where this is heading.

“Y-yes, I'm sure,” she insists, somehow managing to pull herself out of Astarion's embrace. The room spins around her as she turns to face him. “There's something I wanted to discuss with you,” she says breathlessly, vision finally starting to clear.

His expression falls, replaced by smug dissatisfaction. “You came halfway across the city… just to talk?” asks Astarion, narrowing his eyes.

Tav nods her head in agreement. “Yes, it's something rather important.”

Astarion groans low in his throat, grabbing the glass of wine off the desk and walking toward the office window. He brings the crimson liquid to his lips and takes a strong sip. “You could have sent a damned pigeon, if that's all you wanted,” he snides over his shoulder.

“Not about this.” Tav feels her throat run dry as she speaks. Her lust has settled for now, replaced by the live wire of anticipation.

“About what?” Astarion growls defensively. He spins around, entire body leaning into his words. Like an animal being cornered.

Tav flinches reflexively. It’s rare that Astarion ever raises his voice to her, even during disagreements. She swallows, hardening her resolve. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

Astarion hisses through clenched teeth, taking another long drink from his wine glass. His face softens. “I'm sorry, love, but I'm having a very rough time ascertaining what could ever be so important that you felt the need to bring yourself here,” he gestures wildly to the floor below him, “to me, just to talk?”

She doesn't respond.

The tension eases from his form as he studies Tav, clearly shaken by his display. He sucks his teeth in defeat. “Oh, for the love of Shar’s cunt, fine,” he groans. “If you're going to look at me like that, then fine, I'll bite.” He comes to rest on the chaise lounge near the window, knees spread wide, his forearms resting over the tops of his thighs. “So, what can I do for you, my friend?”

Tav winces, looking down at her hands as she fidgets her fingers. He's being heavily sarcastic, though at least it's an invitation to continue. “...There was an article recently in the Gazette,” she begins, voice quivering. “That spoke of a murder within the sewers.”

Astarion scoffs. “Unsurprising for those cesspits, but do carry on.”

Her eyes shift momentarily to his face before falling back to the floor. “It's reported that there were five victims in total. Three had their throats slashed, while the other two…” her voice trails off as her throat tightens. Tav tries to swallow, but nothing goes down. Panic rises within her, adrenaline building.

“The other two what, dear?” Astarion's voice is dark, firm. He stands from his place on the lounge, walking slowly over to Tav. He stands before her, brows pulled together, his eyes cast down upon her face. A hand comes up to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me,” he demands.

She gasps, Tav finally saying with some hesitation, “They had fang marks… embedded in their throats. Resembling the scars I bear.” She blinks. “The ones you gave me,” she adds, quietly.

His eyes darken with malice as his face contorts. His grip on her chin tightens, forcibly lifting her head to the side to observe her branding. Astarion pulls in a full breath as he looks over her neck, mouth dropping open in an exasperated exhale.

“...Do you know anything about this?” Tav chokes out, eyelashes fluttering rapidly.

“And why would I know anything about that, hmm?” Astarion lowers his head into the crook of her neck, panting heavily against her skin. Tav shakes from their proximity. He then drags his lips up the side of her face, resting them against her ear. “I'm not the only monster lurking in the shadows,” he whispers.

The hand on her chin falls to her hip, guiding her gently toward the lip of the desk. “I know how you think of me, darling.” Tav sucks in a sharp breath as her backside bumps into the wood. “That I’m the big bad wolf coming to steal you away in the night.” Astarion buries his nose within her hair, inhaling deeply as he pulls their bodies flush together again.

“A-answer the question, Astarion,” Tav insists, her head beginning to cloud.

“Oh, but wouldn't you rather hear what I miss most about you, Tavaria?” he growls into her ear. “What memories play incessantly again and again in my mind?” Astarion grinds himself against her center again, coaxing a suggestive moan out of Tav. Her arms rise to encircle his neck, her resolve beginning to shatter.

“A-Astarion,” Tav whines desperately. “D-don’t…”

He drops his head to rest their foreheads together, lips practically touching. “I miss how you’d writhe in my lap as I'd drink from you,” Astarion confesses. He pulls at her bottom lip, suckling the flesh between his. “The way you flutter around my cock when you fall off the edge for me.” He kisses her more thoroughly this time, groaning softly into her mouth as Tav’s jaw slackens. “But, do you know what I miss above all else?” suggests Astarion, pulling back. He dips his head again into the nape of her neck, a hand rising to gently hold the opposite side of her face. 

Tav grasps at the linen of his dress shirt, bunching the fabric within the palms of her hands. She's now rocking her hips in rhythm with his, a smoldering fire now roaring to life deep within her belly. Her body calls for him, and Tav wonders briefly if he can hear it.

The crazed beating of her heart? The lone song it sings only for him? The proof of their union that grows within?

“Your blood,” Astarion speaks against her skin. Suddenly he places his mouth over her scars and sucks voraciously, like a man starved. Tav moans, buckling at the knees momentarily. She grabs at his hair, threading her fingers deep against their roots for leverage. “Gods, there's nothing quite like the vintage of your blood,” he continues as he unlatches from her throat. The delicacy of her skin has given way to a mauve bloom; he smiles as he pulls away.

She shakes beneath him. If it weren't for the desk behind her, Tav would certainly collapse. He's trying to seduce her. Fuck her into submission – make her crave him so that she's more pliable, in whichever way he desires. These are his classic manipulation tactics, not unlike their humble beginnings.

“I know w-what you're doing, Astarion,” Tav says. “Don’t toy with me.”

He laughs – a quick condescending sound breaking free from his lips. “Oh, darling, you've been toying with me for months now. I'm very aware,” Astarion says with a smirk. He cranes his head. “Our dance is always the same – we fight, we kiss, and then I make the sweetest love to you as you weave your fingers between the very threading of my soul, ripping my heart free of my chest,” he adds with a sneer, pounding a fist over his heart. 

Astarion pauses for a brief moment to stare at her. He pulls in a quick breath and his face softens. “And I let you, every time.” Tav gasps as the hand holding her face slides to her chin, fingers tracing the outline of her lips. “But you?” he continues, gesturing to a shelf on the wall behind them with a nod of his head, “You keep yours high on a shelf, completely out of reach. No matter how I clamor for it.”

Astarion releases her, hands entirely off her being as he steps back. “I lay myself bare for you every time. But you refuse to see it. Refuse to see me, beyond the glitz and glamor.” He knits his brow again, and Tav swears she sees a hint of moisture gather at the edges of his eyes. “Yet, I say nothing, because this is the only way you allow me to have you. And I’d rather have some of you than nothing at all.” 

Silence blankets them both. 

Has she been unfair to him? Cruel? Has she so sorely misjudged who he’s become? Tav shifts her gaze down to the floor as the questions mount. Maybe he isn’t this grand demon she’s characterized him to be. His talk of power and control after the ritual – perhaps it was a rush of emotions? The first taste of freedom after so many years of indentured servitude? He seems more settled now, not in so much of a rush to bend the entire city to his will.

Perhaps… she was wrong?

“So, may we skip straight to the finale?” says Astarion, distracting her from her thoughts, “Because I’m not quite sure how much more of this I can take.”

Her mouth hangs open, too stunned to speak. Tav looks up; she meets his eyes.

Maniacal laughter as he bathes in a glowing red aura of 7000 souls extinguished.

His face when the ritual was complete. The way he roared. How he laughed.

No, she's not wrong for mistrusting him. He's worse than a devil themselves.

They stare into one another's eyes, the tension swirling about the room thickening. Tav blinks; he still hasn't answered her question. 

“You still haven't answered my question, Astarion.”

She stands firm.

He scoffs, turning his head toward the grand window. Astarion runs a hand over his face; he bites the top of a finger. “No,” he answers sternly, dropping the hand from his mouth. “I don't take particular interest in what happens within the bowels of this city.” He glances down at the fingernails of his closed fist, rubbing them across the front of his shirt. “My days of being a sewer rat are long gone, my dear.”

Tav winces. She's not entirely yet convinced. “Are you sure?”

Slowly, Astarion returns his attention to her. “Yes,” he growls low in this throat, “I am sure.” He tilts his head to the side as he lifts his brow. “Satisfied?”

Briefly she narrows her eyes, studying his face. Something about this… she's seen it before. He's pulled his face into an all-too-perfect expression. Not a muscle out of place.

“Yes, thank you,” she answers. Tav watches his liar’s mask slide off, replaced by a smug expression. He’s truly convinced he has her fooled.

How could she have ever loved such a horrid creature?

“Excellent,” Astarion hums as he clasps his hands. “Shall we return to more pressing matters?” His hands raise to caress the soft edges of her hips. He drops his face to her forehead, planting a soft, lingering kiss. Gently he rocks them together again.

He's turning this into his playground. His bargaining chip.

Sex. Lies. Manipulation.

He falls back on them every time. Seals every deal with the proposition of ‘a little death;’ wielding his body like a finely sharpened tool. In her case, if she doesn't play her cards carefully, Tav could very well be staring face to face with actual death. 

“Of course,” she sings to him. “I wouldn't be truthful if I said I hadn't been thinking of this.” She smiles softly to him, in just the way she knows he likes – a smile that reaches her eyes. It's her turn to start dealing her hand.

And just as expected, Astarion folds.

Hands reach behind her knees, Astarion lifting her up and onto the top of the desk. Their kiss is hurried as he slots himself between her splayed thighs, his tongue entwining itself around hers. Astarion's hands travel up again, one landing on her waist while the other palms at a clothed breast. Tav arches her back, pushing her chest into his touch. She sighs as he continues massaging the tender mound, mewling into his mouth as he pulls teasingly at her nipple. Breaking the kiss, she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose. Her chest heaves as she tries to regain her breath.

Astarion releases her breast and slides his hand up to push the strap of her dress off her shoulder. “Lay down,” he commands with a whisper. Tav hesitates at first, but then moves slowly. She gently lays back onto the surface of the desk; the wood is cold against her exposed skin, sending a chill through her. Astarion leans forward, planting open-mouthed kisses to her neck and the newly exposed area of her shoulder. He travels down, suckling softly at the swell of her breast. She writhes beneath his touch as his hair tickles her chest.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir,” says Astarion, kissing down the expanse of her abdomen. Tav grasps at silver locks, threading her fingers through Astarion’s hair as he begins hiking up her dress.

“You’ve said that to me before,” she pants heavily while stealing a look between her legs. An involuntary twitch ripples through her as he kisses the inside of her thigh. Tav feels him smirk into her skin.

“And still you’ve yet to seek out its meaning,” comes his prompt response. Astarion hooks his fingers into the hem of her undergarments, Tav lifting her hips enough for him to slide the fabric down her legs. They hang off one ankle as he resumes lavishing attention to her.

She arches off the desk as he kisses her mound, dipping his head momentarily to swipe his tongue teasingly up her slit. “W-uh, what d-does it mean?” she questions in a moan.

Astarion hums as he kneels before her spread legs. “You'll just have to find out for yourself,” he teases. Holding her legs open, he runs the flat of his tongue up her center, stopping to lavish her sensitive bud. He wraps his lips around her clit, suckling gently as he brings a hand to her entrance.

“What are you-” Tav exclaims, clearly panicked. Two of his fingers prod over her entrance, Astarion lightly teasing the tips in and out. Their eyes connect and he finally breaches forward, his eyes now rolling back into his skull as he continues lapping at her cunt. He curls his fingers, jerking his hand back and forth to pass over the intimate spot within. Tav’s vision begins to fill with searing white heat, her body writhing under him. He's bringing her closer and closer to release, and fast. More quickly than ever before.

“Gods, you taste even better than I remember,” he moans softly, adding fuel to the ever-mounting fire within her belly. Astarion kisses her opposite thigh, continuing the assault with his fingers. “Thiramen,” he says softly, sensing her proximity to the precipice.

The fucking Elvish. He surely hasn't forgotten the effect it has on her.

“D-don’t… not fair…” Tav whines, looking down between her legs as she runs her hands through Astarion's hair. Her thighs quake, the coil in her lower belly winding tighter and tighter as it threatens to snap.

Astarion meets her gaze, tongue once again passing over her swollen clit. “Thiramen eath’she,” he says. “Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen...”

Astarion curls his finger with just the right amount of finesse and suddenly Tav’s body ceases. She cries out, loud and wanton, her release spilling into the palm of his hand. Astarion smirks and continues passing his fingers over her spot, coaxing her through the intensity of her pleasure. Tav pulls her knees together and finally rolls away from his touch, too overstimulated to take any more. Her chest heaves as aftershocks of her release rock through her.

The vampire smiles as he stands up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He begins undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. Opening her legs again, he leans over her. Tav’s face is flushed red, her eyes still closed as her mouth hangs open. He makes a quick mental note of her current state to call upon for later use. “So beautiful,” Astarion comments, snaking a hand down to the button of his trousers. With the deftness expected of a skilled rogue, he pops open the button and loosens the fastener. 

Tav finally comes to, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “Astarion…” she breathes, raking her nails over his bare chest. Looking between their bodies, she follows his hand as he reaches within the waistband of his underclothes, pulling them down his thighs. His cock springs free and Tav gasps. Pre-fluid gathers at the tip of him and her eyes flutter upward to meet his again, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“I'll stop, if you want,” Astarion whispers through kiss-swollen lips. Guiding his length to rest against her sex, he groans softly, resting his head against her forehead. Involuntarily twitches of his hips have his shaft sliding deliciously through her arousal. Both pull in a sharp breath when the head of his cock catches at her entrance, Tav’s body arching off the desk at the sensation.

Shaky hands rise to hold either side of his face, and Tav notices for the first time that evening how warm it is. A soft blush sits high on his face, across the tops of his cheeks. Astarion turns his head into her palm, planting gentle kisses. Any reservations begin to melt away at the gesture. “No,” she breathes, “it's fine. I want this.” Tav runs her thumb back and forth over his cheek. “Even if only for a little while.”

He nods, completely silent, then guides himself along her core. Her hands tangle within moonlit locks as he breeches her entrance. Her sudden pleasured moan is swallowed in a kiss, Astarion groaning out is own into her mouth as his length slips deeper, deeper, until he hits her end. Tav tastes the remnants of her release on his tongue; a bitter sweetness that tickles the back of her throat. An involuntary clenching of her walls around his cock as his tip kisses the end of her tunnel has Astarion moaning again, breaking their kiss. He buries his head within the crook of her neck, resting there for a brief moment as he bottoms out.

They lay still, Tav pressing a heated cheek to the side of his face. Inhaling deeply, she crosses her legs over the small of his back and pulls him impossibly closer. Astarion adjusts the angle of his hips and she gasps as the head of his cock pushes against her cervix again, slightly arching into his embrace. Gently he begins to rock his hips – short, teasing thrusts to test her readiness. He lavishes attention to her neck with languid kisses, suckling at the delicate skin.

This is… passionate. Intimate, Tav realizes. The words he cannot say aloud, that he's too afraid to say aloud, he'll express through this.

This is her Astarion. The man she fell in love with over a year ago. Here, like this, is him. Tav turns her face to plant reassuring kisses against his temple. “You can move, Astarion,” she tells him.

He doesn't lift his face, but she feels how he breathes against her skin. A hand comes up to thread within her hair, the other landing on her hip. He’s silent as he begins to move – pulling out before slowly plunging back in. They stay like this for a bit, Astarion rocking his hips into her core with added fevor. He glides smoothly as her arousal grows, Tav falling easily into their shared rhythm.

“Tav?”

She opens her eyes, unaware of having closed them. “Mmm?” she groans softly, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he adjusts his angle.

“Do you trust me?”

It takes a moment, but she’s sure she hears a sort of sternness in his voice. Tav peels her head back to meet his eyes. They're wild – dark crimson pools that threaten to swallow her whole. Astarion breathes heavily through his nose, eyes cast down as he awaits an answer.

She opens her mouth to speak but the words catch in her throat. With a wandering eye she finds the ring laying next to her on the corner of the desk. Light gleams on the gold band, reflecting off the glass of encasement.

He kept the ring, she argues to herself. He kept his half of the rings.

Were he so terrible, would he have done that?

“I do,” Tav answers nervously, blinking rapidly.

“May I ask a favor?”

Astarion stills his movements. He holds himself up by his elbows, but not before guiding Tav to lay flat on the surface of the desk. She nods her head slowly as she looks up to him, inviting him to continue.

In an instant, her stomach twists. 

He smiles.

“It's been so long since I've supped of you, darling,” Astarion says, voice smooth as velvet. “Would you be ever so kind to grant me another taste?”

A chill runs up her spine. The room is cold, suddenly so very cold. She's ripped violently from the benevolent illusion of the moment, finding herself face to face with the very creature of tales long past. 

The innocent maidens. 

They always come for the innocent maidens.

She was nowhere near innocent – not for many years. But a maiden? Yes, of this she was sure.

She never did tell Astarion, but he was her first as much as she was his. Her mind may have still been fractured, but somehow she had certainty of that one fact. The moment he breached her maidenhead was the beginning of everything. Bit by bit he carved out pieces of her. Took them, stole them for himself. More and more she gave, all in an effort to appease his ever-growing lust for power and control.

Astarion is, and was, a rolling thunderstorm – lightning fit to strike for no reason other than he can.

And now he's asking, again, for more.

An overwhelming urge to cry is building within her, but she won't. She chose this. To be here, with him. Like this. The consequences of her actions playing out in real time. 

Her stomach twists again and she winces in pain. She understands his craving for blood well. The pregnancy has been kicking up old feelings; she believed them to be settled after the rejection of her Father. Can she really deny him his hunger?

Tav lifts her face to meet his gaze. Astarion is looking down at her with a blank expression. He silently awaits her answer.

“...D-do not turn me, Astarion,” comes her shaky response.

A deep rumble travels up his chest as he twists his face into a foreboding smile. “Of course not, my love,” he purrs, like a cat that finally got the cream. His hand twists within Tav’s hair, guiding her head upward to expose the long column of her throat. His eyes find her scars again and he sucks in a sharp breath, involuntarily jerking his hips into her core. Astarion’s arousal has flagged, though the promise of her blood has him twitching back to life.

Tav groans as she feels him swell within her, hooking her legs back around the small of his waist. Tears threaten at the corners of her eyes as she feels his gaze upon her. “Be gentle, please,” she pleads. Trembling hands rise to hold his shoulders as he moves into position, his mouth hovering above her neck.

Astarion peppers the underside of her jaw with kisses as he trails down her neck. “I would never dream of being anything but,” he speaks into her skin. He swipes his tongue over her mark, his mark, enclosing his mouth over the spot and suckling lightly. “You'll barely feel a thing.”

She could stop this. She should stop this. But instead, she lies in wait, bracing herself for the icy sting of his fangs piercing her flesh. Tav feels the points of his teeth press into her neck; she screws her eyes shut as they sink in, hands flying to the top of his head. She groans, gripping handfuls of silver hair. 

He's right – the pain is only momentary, replaced by a familiar, comforting warmth. Astarion sucks in earnest, mouthfuls of her blood rushing down his throat. With his cock fully replenished, Astarion resumes a steady rhythm, thrusting in time with each pull of blood into his mouth. He groans against her skin.

He desires this, he desires me, Tav reassures herself. The edges of her vision are beginning to darken; a telltale sign that she's reaching her limit. “Astarion,” she says meekly, trying to alert him of her condition.

Yet, he continues to drink.

She pants against his forehead as she tries desperately to break free of his hold. Her strength is quickly fading, more of her vision fading with each pull of her blood into his mouth. Still his thrusts continue; a numbness starts to spread from her core throughout her limbs.

“Astarion…” Tav calls again, voice barely above a whisper.

The ceiling is the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes. Even behind her closed lids the room spins. One hand slips from the top of Astarion's head and onto the table, followed shortly by the other.

As she slips closer and closer into unconsciousness, Tav makes peace with the fact that she chose this. She knew this was a possibility. She knew he desired this, and she gave it to him. Willing.

He outplayed her.

A single thought races across her mind before she fades, of the artwork in the foyer.

The vampire bites the woman he desires.

Finally, Tav succumbs to the dark. 

Astarion continues to drink.

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

A/N: PHEW. Well. The art I referenced above I believe is a scene from a manga called "Blood Sucker," but I couldn't find an actual panel depicting the image above, even with reverse image searching. If anyone can find the actual reference, please feel free to inform me and I'll adjust the link. Translations for the Elvish are as followed: Ai armiel telere maenen hir - "You hold my heart forever" Thiramen - "I love you/my love" when referring to soulmates Thiramen eath’she - "I love you forever," again, in the context of soulmates Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen - "Let go for me, my love," Sources are here & here

Hope you had fun reading!!

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Hello! Would you do a mild angst Buggy x Reader fic? With some fluff at the end? Where Buggy and Reader where a fling back in the day when she suddently disapeared. When raiding a village one day years later he meets a boy that looks like the perfect mix of him and his former lover- finding out that he's his son and she died long ago? Her only legacy was this boy.

Buggy as a father omg AHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭

---

One Night

It wasn't enough searching the seas on his own, he wanted to deploy every ship possible. He wanted to dive into the depths of the ocean even if it paralysed him just so he could find the truth about your disappearance. It pulled apart his mind like no other trauma he had ever faced. He drank till he could see the stars or if he was lucky, your face. As a pirate captain, he had been with endless women. Faces he never recognized, voices that never mattered because all they ever did was hold him for the night but you.

He pushed away from the railing, he wanted to scream, to throw this bottle in his hands and break it into shards. His tears weren't enough, he tugged on those gloves as if they were his armour, preventing his fingers from yearning for your warmth. You were the one that slipped away.

A young merchant by a seaside port he had docked once. He had come by your stall demanding you hand over your wages when you stood your ground, looked him in the eye and said no. His henchmen cracked their knuckles behind him as they edged closer but he remembered his hand shooting up, telling them to stop because something within him had shifted.

Noticing his intrigue you had brokered a deal with him instead. To trade all your hand made lanterns instead of the money because no one was buying them and there was no room for you to stock them anymore.

He tilted his head, all the signs pointing towards the fact that you were closing down your shop.

"I have no need for your lanterns.", He scoffed but you shrugged your shoulders, continuing to wipe the glass in your hands.

His crew began to murmur and laugh behind you at your audacity.

"I have a need for the money I've earned. You seem to be doing well for yourself.", you responded looking behind him at his ship and his crew.

He couldn't understand you. You were at his mercy but why was he feeling like he was at yours?

You were an enigma, a map he couldn't read and that was enough of a challenge for him to concoct a plan. Although a pirate, his life was mundane. The same raids, the same celebrations but you were a spark. A different colour he had never seen.

"That is true.", he rolled back on his heels as a smile threatened to spread across his face.

"You can keep your money.", he said turning to catch your eyes again, he heard the silent gasp amongst his crew mates. He had never been this generous before.

"But I would like to hire your services.", he spoke picking up one of your glass lanterns. It puzzled you, you stopped what you were doing as you focused on him, your nervousness now turning into confusion.

"What for?", you asked.

"My circus lights are in need of an upgrade and the quality of your glass is spectacular, along with it's workmanship.", he held the glass up to the light to inspect it.

"I need you to replace all the lights on the ship.", he looked at you and you gasped.

All the lights on the ship, that was two months of work plus the wages. You didn't have to go to bed hungry. Pirate or not, it was honest work and you needed it. So without making him wait for long, you took up the offer.

"When do I start?", you asked.

"The sooner the better.", he hummed flashing you a smile and for second you forgot who he was.

The beauty about the circus was the magic and he embodied it. Never letting you know who he was, elusive like a rabbit in a hat, here one moment, gone the next.

But with every day you boarded the gaudy vessel by the docks, you grew to understand there was more to him. The quiet nights you spent when the town and crew were asleep, to screw on the bulbs and fuse the glass pieces. He kept you company. He wouldn't talk much, but he snuck glances at you and you did the same.

The distance between you, lessened as the days went by and soon he was seated by your side holding up the tools you needed. His soft eyes gazing into yours before looking away. This was a side no one could witness cause he had it sealed. This version of him wasn't up for display.

The nights had become his favourite now, he didn't have to utter a word, make up a joke, exert his authority, he could just sit by your side and listen to sound of the waves. Watch you mix the colours and bring to life the ideas in your head just like he did with his shows and strategies. He didn't have to peel away his clothes to feel seen, your knowing smile after he pulled a stunt or threw a tantrum was enough.

But it was when you had told him it wasn't his fault for all the hurt he carried, after a night he had a little too much to drink and began to writhe in his self hatred, you were there. To hold him up, to quiten these thoughts that were loud in his head and though his vision was blurry, he could never forget the moment you had kissed him then.

You did in the hopes that when he woke up the next morning he would have forgotten about it, but the days after that he looked at you like he had remembered all of it.

It was the final night, the ship rocked gently but the deck was alive. Your lights brought a new life to this ship, it's crew smiling for the first time since you've been here and while you stood in the middle admiring your work, yours eyes found his. There up by the helm, his head resting in his hands with his eyes set only on you.

That was the night, you could never forget. The truth behind you shutting down your shop was not because of poor sales but because you were sick. Only you knew, and you were set to spend the money you had travelling or doing good of some kind, to leave a mark before your time had come.

So this was perfect. Your lanterns would adorn this ship always. You didn't want to bring down the mood of everyone around, so you held this moment to yourself. Nothing could top this feeling of satisfaction.

You stood by the railing, looking out at the sea, the waters dancing under the moonlight and the soft colourful glow from the ship, when he bumped his shoulder gently into yours.

"I feel like we've become friends after all this time.", he said sweetly and you smiled. It was true, he had become your friend. The only man who made you laugh.

But the moment his eyes lingered on yours it was as if he could read your sadness, he jutted his chin towards you in a manner of asking you what was wrong but you shook your head to put him at ease.

"Just that this is my last day on this beautiful ship.", you pushed away to spin around as soft music played. When you came to a halt, your smile so full on your face that when you saw him looking at you, you were certain he was in love. In love with you.

Your tried to hide the sinking feeling but he only made it worse by walking towards you to catch your hands in his, guiding you into a dance that the warmth in his gloves felt soothing from the cold of the night.

"You've made it beautiful.", he said confidently and it stung you. The truth you knew, that you didn't have all the time to offer him.

"You'll always be welcome here.", he continued and you could gauge where this was going.

"Buggy.", you whispered his name, trying to interrupt him but your heart didn't. When would be the next time you would feel loved? You didn't know. So you stayed, documenting his words so that you carry it with you till the end.

"In fact I feel it's time I come clean about about our deal.", He said and his eyes reflected the colour of the lights.

"Somewhere in between these two months, from the first moment I saw you, I've fallen in love with you.", he said, the rhythm picking up in the song that he twirled you around as though you were a star and he was your admirer.

You forgot about the pain in your life and let your heart roam free. Just for this night. When morning came you will cage it and disappear.

You danced around him, escaping from his hold because you couldn't tell him you had fallen for him too. Because that would break him. But he reached for you again, his hands pulling your arms to him that now you couldn't evade him any longer. A vacuum settling over him and you drowning out the music as you gazed into his eyes.

"Say something.", he laughed nervously as though he had put his entire life on the line.

"I cannot offer you an eternity.", you spoke, your smile dying away.

"but I can give you one night.", you let your fingers hold the sides of his face and watched him unravel.

"One night of your love?", he questioned and you nodded your head, sure that he was going to laugh at you.

"That is more love than I've ever received in my life.", he flashed smile just like yours, one mixed with peace and melancholy.

With that he pulled you in, his lips kissing you where he pleased as he stubbled along with you into his quarters, kicking his boots off like he was a drunken sailor, taking you with him as he fell into the bed.

One night, that changed the course of your lives.

Now those memories won't die, in fact they insisted on pestering him, drowning him in the frustration that your words were something he could never hear again.

"Captain, land up ahead.", his crewmate approached him.

"What do you want me to do with that information?", he barked back angrily.

"Do we put down our anchor or pass it by?", the boy answered nervously.

Buggy looked at the island, the lights near the docks reminding him of you again. He groaned.

"Raid it, you fools!", he ordered, stomping away to the helm.

--

The citizens were wary of his arrival. They scattered away from him as he walked down the streets. Everyone left, except for a little boy. He was by the street corner, juggling glass lanterns as he balanced himself on a unicycle. Buggy stopped in his tracks, the boy's face resembling yours and his dark blue hair looking a lot like his.

"Do we burn down the town?", a deckhand asked him.

"Go back to the ship.", Buggy ordered leaving his crew in confusion. They were reluctant to act on his word that he turned back to yell at them. Telling them to leave.

As they went away, he approached the boy.

"Good day to you, sir. Would you like to see a magic trick?", the boy beamed at him.

Buggy fought back tears, as he crouched down.

"I would.", he said softly and watched as the boy pulled out a card, he tried to hide the card within his tiny fingers to then flip it around quickly to hold up a golden coin instead.

Buggy's heart stopped. The gold coin wasn't an ordinary coin. It carried the seal of his Jolly Roger. One given to crew mates and friends as a means to let people know that they were under his protection.

He tried to take it from the kid but the boy closed his fists on it and drew it back.

"I can't give it to you, sir. It was my mother's.", he stared Buggy down. His eyes the same as yours that Buggy couldn't help but let out a knowing laugh.

"Do you know that coin could fetch you a lot of berry, boy?", he asked to which the boy grew silent, his eyes falling to the floor as sadness seeped into his tiny face.

"I know. But my mother said if I kept it safe, my father will come in search for me.", his sweet words broke through Buggy's facade.

"Where is she?", he asked instantly, wanting to take you and your son home with him. He looked around the market, his heart picking up it's pace in the hopes that he could see you once again.

"She's not here. She's gone home to the clouds, that's what the doctor told me. She can't come back from there.", he heard the boy say and understood what it meant that he broke down to sit on the dirt road. The innocence in the boy's face now replaced with a grief he was too young to understand.

Buggy reached for the lanterns the boy owned, it looked similar to the ones you had made.

"Would you like to buy them? I know how to make more of those.", the boy chirped, his eyes looking up at Buggy with the expectation of making money.

Now that made him feel like he was looking straight into a mirror, he smiled.

"Did your mother tell you about your father?", he asked only for the boy to jump up.

"Oh yes. He owned a huge ship. Travelled across all the seas, fought bad guys and sea monsters. He also had blue hair just like me.", The kid said with evident excitement.

Buggy reminisced your presence, that you left your mark in everything and everyone. That even now, you had made sure the boy knew him as someone good and that was how you had seen him. Buggy met the expectant eyes of the boy and slowly removed his captain's hat.

"Blue hair like mine?", he asked and watch the gears turn in his head.

The kid reached for his hat to run his finger over the crest. Placing the coin next to it, he drew in a gasp. It was a match. The crest was the same as the one on the coin. Buggy prepared himself to explain more, but all he felt was the sudden force with which the child ran into his arms. He wrapped his hands around him and Buggy knew he was never going to be the same again.

"You came. You came for me.", the boy cried and Buggy couldn't help but let the tears he held back roll down his cheek.

He had found you, a part of you and that was all he could ask for.

He wiped away the tears as he carried the boy.

"Now come on, I've got to show you my ship.", he said with a dramatic flair as he walked down the street with his son in his arms.

[comicaurora]

You've mentioned before about how Dainix growing up in a society of all magic-users was difficult for him, is there anything you think is interesting about him adapting to that surrounding? Like, does he carry around means of manually creating fire with him (like flint); and is creating fire via anything other than magic something most other ignans would even know? What kind of things can most of his peers do that he has to ask for help for or find other ways of making it work, aside from general fire-blasts?

(Also, as a disabled writer, I think fantasy/sci-fi disabilities are an underutilized goldmine of worldbuilding & characterizarion, and I really like the way you integrate it into Aurora.)

I asked myself that when I was choreographing the Zombie Dungeon Funtime Adventure! When they lost the light source I knew Dainix would need to replace it in order to navigate in the dark without Falst, but I concluded he actually wouldn't be carrying firestrikers. Even if he personally couldn't magically create fire, he'd always been part of a team of people who could. Instead, he had to strike sparks off the wall using his metal knife. Something he'll definitely prepare for in the future! (Falst always carries firestrikers, but Dainix doesn't know that and wasn't about to go digging in his pockets)

Fire magic the way most Ignans use it is fairly utilitarian, but some people specialize in useful ways - some Ignans can gain bursts of speed or altitude by kicking out fire jets from their feet, or manipulate fire's brightness and color in precise ways to create simple illusions. And even without the expectation of specialization, being unable to do even basic fire magic basically means Dainix always has one fewer weapon than his peers - no emergency last-ditch flashbang moves, no covering fire, no way to do field repairs on damaged metal or glass tools. It's part of why he's always so careful with his equipment, and why he's such a precise and observant fighter - he has no room for error and has to work harder to feel like he's measuring up.

[azsazz]

Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died

Cassian x Reader

Summary: They say all is fair in love and war.

Warnings: Smut, hate-fucking.

Word Count: 5,313

Notes: I've said it once and I'll say it again. I think I'm in love with this Cassian.

_________________________________________

“I’ll wrestle you to your fucking knees if you don’t do it yourself.” Cassian’s ire slides up your spine like a blade straight from the forge, “So why don’t you save us both the time and get down.”

Your glare does nothing to deter the path of his lust-filled gaze, drinking in your revealing dress, the onyx ink adorning your bare skin from bargains made throughout your years, the sweep of coal around your eyes, covering only the most intimate parts of you.

Except for the one buried deep within your soul, your innermost feelings, he’s attuned to. All because of that damned mating bond.

You cannot stand the male looking down at you. That spark in his eyes, the demands from those lips, curled into a cruel smile at the flare of anger he feels from you, all sharp teeth and drunk on lust. His stare is just as cutting, and you can hardly tell if he hates the silvery silk you’re cloaked in, like moonlight dripping off your skin, or if the dislike is simply directed at your entire being.

Either way, you don’t have time. The both of you are supposed to be joining the others in Rhysand’s office for a final walkthrough of the plan before heading into the Hewn City for the night, one full of debauchery and putting on a show for the citizens that think you’re nothing more than a crony for a single-minded High Lord.

But Cassian had caught you in the hallway and forced you back into your room, cock hard and demanding you get on your knees for him. It was a thing that you don’t remember having started, as the both of you held a strong dislike towards each other for years, since Rhysand had brought you in to give a fresh stance on warfare. But lust had licked up your spine at his actions nonetheless. Damn that unaccepted bond purring in your chest, reacting to him in every way, betraying you to your core.

Rhysand didn’t think that Cassian would react with such abhorrence to the presence of another well trained general, especially a female. It wasn’t like he had brought you in to replace the warlord, although, from hearing some of his strategies, you thought you might’ve been brought in to do exactly that.

You size him up, as you always do, and his hazel eyes flicker at the challenge. Sparring with him always ended with both of you torn and bloody, neither of you willing to submit to the other. It carried on into the bedroom as well, fighting for control in the throes of lust, your unmated bonds thrumming in your chests, always reaching out for one another. 

And yet neither of you had denied it, though the threat always lingered, both of you teetering on the edge of declining the other when irritated too much. But that itch was constant, never fulfilled, urging you to react.

You open your mouth to snap back at him, a nasty retort on the tip of your tongue, but he’s quick – hundreds of years of Illyrian training under his belt had made him so. He grips your chin roughly, the bite of his fingers pressing into the hinge of your jaw makes your cunt clench, even as you glare up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he scolds, like he knows exactly what you had planned on spewing. The fucking smirk on his face tells you that the only thing you’ll be spitting on is his cock, whenever he demands it. The steely, commanding look in his eyes makes a shiver crawl up your spine and your fists curl into the smooth fabric of your dress. “No talking.”

And Mother, do you want to speak just to piss him off. You know what will happen if you do, you’ve tried it on many occasions, testing his limits, because there was no way in hell that you were going to take his demands as easily as one of his mediocrely trained soldiers, not when the both of you so openly disliked each other.

But you’re already running late. You need to be downstairs soon for the briefing and if you open your mouth now he won’t let you cum. So instead, you bite your tongue to the brink of splitting it open, and sink to your knees before Cassian.

His cock twitches in his pants and he nearly groans at the sight of you, the harsh glare you’re sending up at him, your chin trapped in his hold. If he presses just a little firmer those pretty pink lips will pop right open for him–

Cassian works his belt loose with one hand, the other holding onto you like a vice. You don’t move, don’t dare to help him with his leathers. You so achingly want to watch his cock spring from confinement when he shoves them over the cutting muscles of his hips, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You settle for watching it from the corner of your eyes, so close that his cock nearly hits you in the face. 

You can feel the warmth radiating from his massive length and your mouth waters, remembering the last time you’d had that heavy heat between your lips. You swear he was Cauldron blessed.

He’s ready as ever, precum beading at the tip as he strokes himself once, twice, pressing the head of his cock against your mouth, smearing the milky bead across your lips. You take a deep inhale of the heady scent of him, but it only spikes your arousal. Cassian’s cock twitches at the  barely there feeling, an unconscious reaction to the mating bond festering beneath his skin.

You force nonchalance and hatred with every fiber of your being, staring up at him in defiance. Later, you will get your revenge, riding him until the sun wakes and not letting him cum until he forces you into the mattress and uses you like you’re nothing but a whore. You can picture the way his large hands will manhandle you, folding you into tight shapes for him as he pounds into your cunt with fervor, like a drowning man, spewing vitriol like they’re confessions of love.

A raised eyebrow, your way of asking, ‘Any more demands? Or can we get this started?’

Cassian’s grin turns feral, his fingers pinching open your jaw while his free hand coils your hair around into a tight fist.

“No gagging, sweetheart.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You’re eager to play tonight, riled from the time spent with Cassian’s cock in your mouth, stretching your throat wide enough to take his entire length, your hair pulled into his large fist as he shoved your head closer to his body until your nose met the coarse hairs above his cock.

He held you there and you reveled in the burn. There was nothing gentle about him having full control of you, and the lick of lust you’d let slip between the two of you only made his free hand slide down, clamping at your soft neck where he could feel himself, your throat bulging around his girth. 

If you had more time he would have stripped you bare and lifted your cunt to his mouth to devour the wetness dripping from your folds. He was perhaps the most excited down there, and it was the only time where you’d let him dominate you, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you until your thighs quaked, breathing so ragged you couldn’t argue with him, hands holding so tightly to his hair he thought you might rip it clean from his scalp. 

He’d cum so far down your throat you could hardly feel the hot spurts as he released. You’d shoved at his hips in desperation, wanting to taste his familiar musk. By the end of it you’d had spit and cum dripping from your chin to the milky skin between your breasts the moonlit silk of your dress left bare.

You wanted to bathe in it, wear it proud like any battle scar, but you shoved those thoughts so deeply inside of you where his prying bond wasn’t able to reach. Instead, you sent him the ice cold hatred you felt anytime someone compared his strategies to yours. You honed in on that feeling and held on tight.

At least the material of your dress hadn’t been stained, and you’d made a valiant attempt at fixing your hair before you showed up to the meeting room with your comrades.

If any of them noticed anything off about you, they knew better than to speak.

Now, you’re prowling the large ballroom after having received a nod from your High Lord to lure and pry for information by any means necessary. Cassian preferred brute force and Azriel tended to seek information with his blades, while you used a different approach, one that might even work better than bloodshed and torture.

There’s nothing more threatening to a male than a female’s body.

The music playing throughout the hall is sensual in itself, the fast-paced sounds flowing throughout the room in a lustful wave. The sultry female voice harmonizes perfectly with her male counterpart, and the song sounds like it’s own mixture of lewd moans and words, the air hot and serenading the partygoers like sirens.

You’ve wanted nothing more than to press your body up against someone’s, and after having downed a few glasses of wine, that is exactly what you plan on doing.

Your eyes catch on a tall male then, your first victim. Rhysand had briefed you and the other members of the Inner Circle on him, Rhodes. His body is lean with muscle, skin a pretty pale blue that would draw the eye of anyone in the room. His caramel gaze scans the room as he speaks to a fellow warrior, an empty rock glass hanging lazily at his side. He has a strong nose and matching scars mirrored across both cheeks that somehow only exaggerates his rugged beauty. He’s one of Beron’s highest appointed commanders, and even you cannot deny his gorgeous features.

Slinking through the crowd to him is easy, and drawing him away from the male before him easier, drawing him deep into the crowd of writhing bodies with the promise of entertainment on your curved lips.

Oh, these generals of war and how they like to play.

Dancers clear from your path with scowls, some spitting insults at you as you drag their general through the hall with a grin, like you’ve won a luxurious prize. You don’t flinch or cringe away from them, only smile and swing your hand with the commanders to emphasize and flaunt what you’ve got.

You find a spot in the middle of the floor, where Rhysand and Feyre can both see you from the dais, where everyone has the perfect view of you and your prey, the scalding flash locking your spine in place tells you so.

You ignore the feeling, not letting your act falter as you spin to a stop before him. The blue-skinned fae doesn’t stop with you though, his large stride eats the last step separating you, forcing all of the air between you to rush away until his body is flush against yours. You have his full attention.

A playful smirk graces your lips as you stare up at him, fingers already reaching up, grazing across his dark tunic to wrap around his neck. His hands slide around your waist, gentlemanly for now. It’s a pleasing surprise, knowing how the males of the Hewn City actually are.

You find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with Rhodes, and your swaying quickly turns to writhing, grinding against him as his hands pull you desperately into his body at the command of the sinful music. You nearly lose your motive when you meet his butterscotch eyes, drinking in every movement you make. 

You can feel his interest against your hip.

Rhodes curls downwards, so tall that you wonder if his spine hurts just a little, as he dips down to meet your gaze more fully, a question in his eyes.

“You think you can have me?” you purr, a wicked smile gracing your lips as you trail a metallic dipped fingernail down the exposed blue of his chest. The effects of the wine have you buzzing, but you know better than to give and not receive payment for your efforts. “You know that there’s always a price to pay, don’t you, Rhodes?”

His burned buttery eyes flash with irritation and his grip on your hips tighten, a clear sign of his frustration. You can see the battle behind his heated gaze, how badly he wants you, what information he’s willing to give you in exchange for a taste.

The thunderous music peaks, crashing into a crescendo that makes you shiver as a second body closes in on you from behind, pressing flush against you. Your bond purrs in your chest but it could be the buzz from the wine as you arch backwards into the warmth, grinding into him as your head tilts back to lean against the wall of a male who’s trapped you between him and Rhodes, eyes shut in bliss and mouth open in a pleasured exhale.

The male behind you dips his head toward your ear and you can’t help but to tilt your head, leaning it against his temple as he speaks.

He chuckles, and Cassian’s breathy and hot words send shivers up your spine. “Oh, you’ll fuck anything, won’t you, sweetheart?”

At the sound of his voice your heart stops and your eyes snap open, locking directly on Rhodes’, who’s now looking down at you like you’re some sort of festering wound. He releases your hips immediately and he slinks back into the crowd on a jarring note from the violin, chin tilted high and glaring down at anyone who looks his way. Even he knows better than to fuck with one of the High Lords companions.

The shock must still be on your face when you turn around because Cassian’s shit-eating grin only widens before he’s taking your wrist in a firm grip and leading you from the dancefloor.

You want to refuse, but the bond in your chest is aching at you not to, to follow him even though you’re angrier than the Mother. He’s ruined your entire scheme.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you spit once he’s dragged you from the party, putting a room between you and the debauchery that’s happening in the ballroom, music softening through the closed door.

Cassian spins on his heel, shoving you right up into the wooden frame. It’s too dark to read the look on his face but his eyes glimmer in the night and his wings pull up high. You can make out the shapes of his claws forming a taunting halo above his head.

His hands are everywhere all at once, pulling at the ties of your dress to release it from your body that’s already curving into his eager touch. The darkness chills your skin as the fabric melts to the ground and your breath is a gasp as Cassian’s mouth sucks harshly at the skin of your throat, quickly working his way downward, your heartbeat pounding in time with the drums of the notes in the other room.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He taunts and you hiss, pulling at his hair from where you were threading the silky strands through your fingers.

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“No,” he growls, low in your ear. You let slip a strained moan as you feel the heat of his cock meet your dripping cunt before sliding in easily, one fell swoop that shoves all of the emotions you’ve buried deep inside of you to the surface. “Fuck you.”

You cry out in pleasure, clinging to him like you never want to let him go. Your legs wind around his waist and he presses your body into the door as he fucks into you, his fingers covering the spots where Rhodes had been holding you in the ballroom, replacing the commanders touch with his own.

The bond aches in your chest at your close proximity to your counterpart. Your other half, equals in every way yet you can’t stand each other. You can’t stand his stupid hair that fits perfectly between your fingers, his hazel gaze that’s always staring at you with malice. You hate the smirk he directs your way and how you can’t seem to ever get those lips off of your mind, how you dream about him as much as you work with him–

No. You need to shut that train of thought down immediately, but it’s so difficult when his cock commands them from you, pushing them to the surface with each thrust, you moan out his name instead.

“That’s right,” he says against your mouth, “Scream for me, sweetheart.”

And you do.

It’s the only thing you can do besides let your innermost feelings spill from your lips. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way, know that he loathes you, but you can’t help it. You were made to be his, to want him completely.

Your nails rake down his back, so awfully close to the base of his wings it has him shuddering a growling, nipping harshly at your lip as he untangles your hands from around him. You whimper at the loss when he pins them above your head in one hand, the other supporting you, the muscles of his arm bulging with the effort.

Head falling back on your shoulders, your thighs quake where they’re clasped around Cassian’s waist. You can feel the perspiration against your forehead as he presses his against your own, glaring down at you because he wants to watch you as he ruins you, makes a mess of you for everyone else tonight.

Your chest heaves against his, a battle all its own as your heart beats a booming rhythm. Your skin sticks to his and you gasp when he shifts, plunging into you from a different angle.

You cum on his cock but Cassian’s not finished with you. He bites at your shoulder when he feels you tense around him, revels in the noises you make, uncaring if anyone else hears. It is the Hewn City, afterall.

“Give me another,” he demands, picking up his pace, pressing into your further. You can hardly breathe with his body against yours and you think you’ve heard the wood of the door begin splitting open from how harshly he’s fucking you into it.

Your legs go limp around him but he has one thing on his mind, releasing your arms in favor of latching onto your legs to hold you up. You mewl at the relentless way that he’s fucking into you, the long draw of your orgasm quickly building into another as his cock hits the spot inside of you like he’s known it all along.

You have no choice but to follow his demand, cumming around him again with a keen as he follows, releasing into you, his breathing ragged.

He leans against you for a moment as he collects his bearings and before you have the chance to revel in the way his body molds perfectly to yours he’s dropping you to your feet and tucking himself away.

“Clean yourself up, you look like a mess.”

His words clang in your chest like a death knoll, harsh and unrelenting. You should have known it to be true, neither of you ever stayed a minute longer in each other’s presence once you’d finished, but this…this stings.

Cassian leaves you in the darkened room by yourself while he slips away, headed towards the dining room where dinner is about to be served.

You sit for a long moment, his cum dripping down your thighs as you bury unwanted emotions away. Your dress is a disheveled mess and your lips are bruised with his kisses, skin dotted purple from his touch. 

You knew that the Mother was cruel, but not like this. Because you’re mated to the male you loathe, even if he has ruined you for every other body in Prythian.

You fist the silky material of your dress as your anger seeps in.

No. You will not let him humiliate you this time. You’re the one he stopped in the hall. You’re the one he dragged away from Rhodes. You’re the one who made him cum again and again. 

You’re not letting Cassian have this one.

It takes you two times to stand because of how bad your legs are trembling. Your thighs are sore from how hard Cassian fucked you and you can feel every place he touched as you shove your skirts down to cover your slick legs. You hadn’t bothered to wipe him from you. No, you want them all to know who treats you like this.

You stalk towards the dining room, building your confidence brick by brick with each clack of your heels. Spine straightening, chin tilting upward, mouth pressed into a firm line.

Let them see the tear in your dress, the mess of your hair, the smear of your lipstick halfway across your cheek. Let them smell the cum dripping down your thighs. Show them how much of a brute through and through Cassian is. 

Fuck him.

As you near, you hear the heavy scrape of a chair against the floor. It’s an urgent sound, like someone’s realized they’ve forgotten their weapon in another room. Just as you’re about to turn the corner to enter the dining room Cassian appears, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and hoisting you over his shoulder in such a swift move it takes your mind a moment to catch up. The talon of his wing nearly tears your forehead open and you make a noise of frustration in retaliation.

“Hey,” you shout, pounding at his back. His grip is tight, unrelenting and your fists don’t seem to have any effect on the hard cording of his back. “Put me down!”

“No,” he growls in response, stalking away from the dinner guests.

But you’re not giving up, you never have.

Cassian lets you slip from his shoulder but he’s quick to pin you against the wall, as far from the dinner his body would allow before the need to be buried inside of you again becomes unbearable.

“I’m hungry,” you say, acting aloof as ever. 

Cassian grins wolfishly, “I’ll give you something to put in your mouth then, how about that?”

You don’t have a chance to respond because he’s dipping down, lips capturing yours in a feral kiss that’s more teeth than lips.

Your body reacts instinctually. You’re clawing at his clothes, but he no longer seems to care if buttons pop from the ridiculous shirt Rhys had forced him into, if the fabric snags against his wings in your haste to rid him of it. It’s like you can’t control yourself, something deep inside of you needing to be filled by him always.

He spins you around and you plant your hands against the wall to brace yourself. Rucking your dress up on your hips, Cassian is quick to tug his trousers off once more. And while you’d come here with the intention of giving him a piece of your mind, your body clearly has other thoughts, your mating bond thrashing around in the cage it’s being locked in.

“Don’t be fucking greedy now,” he grunts as you arch into him, shoving your cunt back to take him more fully. His hands are steel on your hips, the pads of his fingers digging roughly into your skin, halting your movements. “Already ready for round two?”

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood as you try to stifle the whimper crawling up your throat. Gods, you need more, you need his broad chest pinning you to the wall, you need to feel the roughness of the partition imprinted into your cheek as he tries to shove you through it while he fucks into you harder, unable to control himself, giving into that primal urge that you’re feeling as well, the bond trying to claw it’s way from your body and into his–

“You’ll get as much as I give you,” his snarl is paired with a shifting of his hips, not forward, but back. It sends a flash of anger through you and you’re shaking in his grasp, you’re sure he can feel it beneath his hold on you. You can feel the head of his cock pulling out and you squeeze your eyes shut, clenching around him desperately, like it might just keep him there.

Cold air rushes through your lungs as he retreats. If you were a better female you wouldn’t beg, but the warmth of his pulsing cock withdrawing from your cunt is like losing a limb. You can feel your heart rate pick up in panic as his tip halts right inside of your entrance, any slight movement from you will send him sliding out completely.

You gasp desperately, and it sounds like a plea of pain while he holds you on the end of this hot cock.

“Fuck you like you love me, Cassian,” you beg, body shaking with the effort it takes to keep still for him. You don’t even realize what you’ve said until the air shifts in the aftermath.

Cassian’s hold on your hips turns to steel and his spine straightens. The bond in his chest roars and his vision goes white. He nearly loses the grip he has on himself, the wall he’d so carefully built between the two of you, and your confession has him wanting to bury his cock so deeply into you it’ll break you in half, so that he’s embedded into your body, your soul, forever.

“Tell me again,” he commands, but it’s not a warcry signaling the beginning of battle. No, it’s something else, much softer. It makes you whimper.

But you refuse. You will not repeat the words that had slipped from your mouth as if someone else had taken control of your body, as if your mating bond had grown a voice and forced it from you on its own. The words that had been shoved so deeply within yourself that they hardly even sound like you.

Cassian’s demeanor changes at your lack of response, fisting your hair in his grasp. He forces you into the wall with his elbow to your spine and pulls your hair tight. Your neck cranes and your back bows in his hold. He leans in close, breath hot in your ear as he growls. “Tell. Me. Again.”

“Please,” you gasp. Please don’t make me repeat myself. Please don’t stop fucking me. Please don’t hate me–

“No, that’s not it,” he scolds, but his tone takes on a slightly softer tone. His movements are agonizingly slow, sliding deep into like he hasn’t left in the middle of dinner to fuck you against the wall not even twenty feet away. Your entire body shudders in reaction to the long stroke, and tears burn your eyes when he nearly pulls all the way out of you again. “Tell me, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you.”

“Don’t,” you choke, a stubborn tear rolling hot down your cheek. You squeeze your eyes tight so he doesn’t see, “You’re being cruel, Cassian.”

“I think you’re the one being cruel, sweetheart,” he counters lowly. “Taunting me with your words, touching other males, teasing me with this perfect pussy.” His last words are accentuated by two sharp thrusts that make your cunt convulse and a weak moan escape your lips. “So I think you’ll be repeating exactly what you said a moment ago when I ask you.”

How can such harsh words make you feel like this? Cassian’s been nothing but rude to you since you’d arrived and yet he makes you feel like no other has. And if this is how you feel when he’s discourteous, you imagine how you’d feel if he actually had feelings…

Cauldron fucking spare me.

You work to swallow, refusing to meet his gaze as you speak, voice trembling. “I said…fuck me like you love me.”

The air is sucked from your body at the admission, his body, from the room. He’s so silent that if his warmth at your back and the head of his cock weren’t torturing you, you wouldn’t even know he was here at all.

“Look at me,” Cassian asks, and his voice is soft, so tender that it makes you flinch.

You refuse. You can’t force yourself to look at him. Not when he’s going to glare at you and make fun of you–

“Sweetheart,” he coos, tracing a gentle thumb across your cheek. “Please.”

And you do.

You don’t even know who you’re looking at. Cassian’s hazel eyes have gone soft, big and wide and staring at you like he doesn’t recognize you either. His bond strokes against your heart like his fingers do your spine, his grip in your hair slackening as his brash fingertips melt into a caress.

“I do love you, sweetheart,” he admits, and a part of you so desperately wants to believe that he’s lying. That his sappy glance will morph into one of condescending and taunting, but you can see it in his eyes that he’s being nothing but honest.

That feeling in your chest tells you so, too.

But you can’t help the insecurities that whimper out of you. “You do?”

He releases a shaky chuckle and he relaxes like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You gasp as he pulls out of you completely but he’s spinning you around and drawing you into his body, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss that doesn’t burn with lust but with love.

“Gods, yes,” he pants, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know when it changed. Reckon I’ve always loved you, I think.”

Your heart soars at his words, mating bond singing in your chest. You can’t help but to grin up at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, admiring his own look of awe.

“I think I’ve always loved you too, Cassian,” you sigh. Unable to help yourself you press up onto the tips of your toes, pecking him on the lips once, and then again. 

The war between you is over.

Almost, because the string in your chest coiling and twining with his is the last thing keeping you apart. 

Cassian must feel it too because he’s groaning like a dying male, leaning into you exaggeratedly. It makes you giggle and his heart soar.

“If I eat you out does that count as completing the bond, sweetheart? Need you to be mine right now.”

You laugh, burrowing your head into his chest. “Cassian, there is a dinner table right on the other side of this wall.”

He pulls away from you, face hard. The smile slips from your lips but his look isn’t one of anger, but primal protection.

“I’m not letting any of those fuckers see you like this.”

You cross your arms over your chest and raise your eyebrow in challenge. “Like what?”

That familiar razor-sharp smirk graces his lips, making your heart flutter in your chest. He reaches down to where your dress is torn and bunched up from your promiscuous activities, dragging two long fingers through your wetness and cum from minutes earlier. 

You shudder as he draws his fingers away, into his mouth, answer enough.

“Well, then you better get me out of here quickly,” you purr, wrapping your hand around his still stiff cock. He grunts softly and his pupils dilate. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

[voidpetrova]

fading boundaries — jeremy gilbert x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genres: swearing, possessiveness, slut-shaming — fluff

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: jeremy never should've allowed himself to fall for you. he was a hunter, and it went against his beliefs to fall for you, a vampire. his jealousy and hatred only grow when he sees that you've caught everybody's attention, not just his

✧.*

the moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow upon the quiet streets of mystic falls. jeremy leaned against a lamppost, his gaze fixed on the mansion that stood at the edge of the town. his heart raced, a conflicted maelstrom of emotions swirling within him. he had never thought he'd find himself in this position, torn between duty and desire.

it had all started with a chance encounter. an innocent moment that had ignited a spark he couldn't ignore. you, a vampire, had entered his life, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that jeremy struggled to unravel. his heart despised itself for succumbing to feelings he'd been taught to reject.

jeremy was a vampire hunter, trained in the art of tracking and eliminating the supernatural creatures that prowled the night. it was a duty passed down through generations of his family, a legacy that weighed heavily on his shoulders. but destiny had a way of blurring lines, and now he found himself drawn to the very beings he was supposed to hunt.

his thoughts were a whirlwind of self-loathing and confusion. every stolen glance, every shared moment—each one etched deeper into his soul. the undeniable truth was that he was falling in love with you, a vampire, an existence that clashed with everything he believed in.

and what stung even more was the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who held your attention. damon salvatore, with his devilish charm and enigmatic allure, had a way of commanding the room whenever he entered. and then there was stefan, the brooding and tortured soul, whose longing gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness straight into your heart.

jealousy gnawed at jeremy's insides, a bitter taste that he tried to ignore. he had seen the way you interacted with the salvatore brothers—moments that seemed to play out like a dance of secrets and shared histories. it made him question his place in your life, a place that seemed minuscule in comparison.

as he stood there in the moonlit night, jeremy's fingers clenched around the pendant that hung around his neck—a symbol of his lineage, a reminder of his duty. but the more he tried to push you away, the tighter the invisible thread between you two seemed to become.

his internal struggle was far from over, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. little did he know that the intricate web of emotions and choices would lead him down a path of self-discovery, testing the boundaries of love, jealousy, and the blurred lines between right and wrong.

the salvatore mansion's grand ballroom was aglow with soft candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the ornate walls. it was one of those rare occasions when the town's supernatural residents and humans mingled under the same roof, an uneasy truce that brought tension to the air.

jeremy watched from a distance as the guests swirled around, their laughter and music blending into a symphony of decadence. his gaze shifted to you, standing near the center of the room, your elegance and beauty drawing the eye of everyone present, including his.

he clenched his jaw, a mix of emotions surging within him. tonight, he had told himself, would be different. he would keep his jealousy in check and try to find a way to coexist with the knowledge that he wasn't the only one vying for your attention. but fate had other plans.

stefan salvatore, his usually composed façade replaced with a smile that could charm even the most steadfast hearts, approached you. jeremy's heart tightened as he observed the scene unfolding before him.

“may i have this dance?” stefan's voice held a velvety quality that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.

you smiled, your eyes meeting his. “of course, stefan.”

as you and stefan swayed to the rhythm of the music, jeremy's fingers clenched into fists at his sides. he had seen this before, the way stefan had an uncanny ability to draw people in, to make them feel like they were the center of the universe. but right now, it was you who had his attention, and that was something jeremy was finding increasingly difficult to accept.

he turned away, his breath coming in short, frustrated bursts. he walked briskly toward the balcony, seeking the solace of the cool night air. the night sky stretched out before him, stars twinkling overhead like distant, unattainable dreams.

“hey.”

the voice behind him made jeremy's muscles tense. he turned to find damon leaning casually against the balcony railing, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

“damon,” jeremy muttered, his tone guarded.

damon arched an eyebrow, his lips curving into a half-smile. “trouble in paradise?”

jeremy's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

damon took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on jeremy. “you know, jealousy doesn't suit you, kid.”

jeremy's eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and vulnerability. “what do you know about it?”

damon's gaze softened slightly. “more than you might think. look, there's a lot you don't understand about this world, about us.”

jeremy's fists clenched again, his frustration mounting. “and what? you're here to offer me some kind of wisdom?”

damon's tone turned serious. “i'm here to remind you that life's too short to let jealousy eat you alive. if you care about her, you'll figure out a way to deal with it. otherwise, you're just gonna end up miserable.”

jeremy's anger was replaced by a mix of resignation and realization. he stared out at the night sky, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

as the party continued inside, jeremy took a deep breath, letting damon's words sink in. it was a battle within himself that he needed to confront—a battle between his feelings for you and the jealousy that threatened to consume him.

jeremy's frustration simmered beneath the surface, an undercurrent of emotions that he struggled to contain. he turned his gaze back to the ballroom, his eyes finding you still dancing with stefan. the jealousy that had been a constant companion flared into something more potent—a raging fire that threatened to consume him whole.

he clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to regain his composure. the music seemed to mock him, the cheerful notes contrasting starkly with the turmoil within his heart.

“still having your pity party?”

the voice that interrupted his thoughts was familiar, and yet, it grated on his already frayed nerves. damon had followed him once more in order to keep an eye on him, his piercing gaze assessing jeremy's clenched stance.

his jaw tightened, his resentment aimed at both damon and the situation. “why do you even care?”

damon's gaze held a mixture of exasperation and something else—something jeremy couldn't quite decipher. he gave a casual shrug. “just thought you could use some company out here. you seem a bit on edge.”

jeremy's frustration bubbled over. “you're not helping, asshole. if you wanna be helpful, stay out of my business.”

damon's eyes glinted mischievously, his lips curling into a faint smile. “oh, come on, don't be like that. it's a party. let loose a little.”

jeremy's patience wore thin, his anger bubbling to the surface. “i don't need your advice, and i definitely don't need you interfering.”

damon's smile only widened, his gaze flickering to the ballroom. “speaking of which—”

before jeremy could react, damon turned away and strolled back into the ballroom. he seamlessly joined you and stefan on the dance floor, his presence commanding attention. jeremy watched as damon skillfully guided you through the dance, his movements smooth and calculated.

stefan's laughter mixed with the music, and you seemed caught between the two salvatore brothers, your eyes flickering between them as you danced.

damon's voice, dripping with charm, reached jeremy's ears as he exchanged flirtatious banter with you. “you know, you really know how to light up the room.”

stefan's response was equally playful, his voice laced with innuendo. “oh, damon, flattery won't get you everywhere.”

you laughed, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “boys, you're both shameless.”

damon's eyes held a challenge as he twirled you. “can you blame us? when a stunning girl like you graces us with her presence?”

stefan chimed in, his fingers brushing against yours. “it's impossible not to be captivated.”

jeremy's anger surged, a mix of jealousy and rage burning within him. he had to clench his fists to keep from storming into the ballroom. the sight of you being courted by both stefan and damon ignited a fire in him that he couldn't ignore.

the dance continued, each word exchanged between you, stefan, and damon stoking jeremy's fury. he felt like an outsider, an observer to a scene that was slowly driving him to the edge.

finally, the dance came to an end, but the tension in the air lingered. damon and stefan shared a knowing smirk, leaving jeremy seething on the balcony.

as the two of them sauntered away, he stood there, his heart racing and his emotions in turmoil. he had never felt so powerless, so consumed by jealousy. the night air did little to soothe his frayed nerves, and he was left grappling with the realization that the battle for your attention was far from over.

the moon cast a silvery glow over the deserted alleyway, the shadows playing tricks on the eyes. jeremy leaned against a brick wall, his jaw clenched as he watched you approach. the tension between you two was palpable, a result of the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter.

“jeremy,” you greeted, your tone laced with a mix of amusement and condescension. “what brings you to the dark side of town? looking for a quick fix again?”

he shot you a glare, his eyes narrowing. “just figured i'd see what you're up to. not like i've got anything better to do.”

you chuckled softly, your lips curving into a sardonic smile. “ah, the illustrious life of a vampire hunter. must be quite the thrill.”

jeremy's fists tightened, his irritation evident. “more thrilling than a never-ending existence, i'd say.”

you raised an eyebrow, a spark of challenge in your gaze. “at least i don't have to worry about growing old and wrinkled.”

he retorted with a smirk, his sarcasm matching yours. “yeah, immortality does wonders for the complexion.”

the banter continued, each word exchanged between you a careful dance of barbs and retorts. the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter was a thick fog that enveloped the conversation, masking the underlying currents of tension.

you tilted your head, your tone mocking. “so, what's the plan, jerm? lure me into a trap, perhaps? or maybe you're here to try and convince me to give up my evil ways”

his gaze held a mix of defiance and frustration. “i don't need to convince you of anything. your track record speaks for itself.”

you chuckled, your laughter like a cool breeze on a summer night. “ah, jeremy, always the charmer. it's a wonder you haven't won over every vampire in town with your winning personality.”

his eyes flared with anger, his patience wearing thin. “says the vampire who can't seem to resist dancing with every salvatore brother in sight.”

the mention of the salvatores seemed to strike a chord, your expression flickering for a moment before you masked it with a smirk. “jealousy doesn't suit you, little gilbert. but i must admit, it's quite the entertainment watching you try to keep up.”

he scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “at least i'm not pretending to be something i'm not.”

you took a step closer, your gaze locking onto his. “and what's that, exactly? the tortured soul with a chip on his shoulder?”

jeremy's voice turned cold, his words a dagger aimed at your heart. “better than being a bloodsucking slut.”

you laughed, the sound echoing through the alleyway like a haunting melody. “oh, jeremy, you have no idea what you're missing out on.”

as the tension between you two continued to escalate, the words you exchanged were like a battlefield of wit and resentment. the lines between enemies and allies were blurred, the unspoken emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

and as the moonlight bathed the alley in its silvery glow, the clash of wills between vampire and vampire hunter seemed to echo the timeless struggle between light and darkness.

the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit bar, a familiar meeting place for the residents of mystic falls. the entire gang had gathered there for a rare moment of respite, a chance to unwind amid the constant chaos that seemed to engulf their lives.

you stood by the pool table, a cue stick in hand as you lined up your shot. the sharp crack of the balls echoed through the air as you sank one into a corner pocket. stefan, ever the gentleman, approached from behind, a smile playing on his lips.

“nice shot,” he remarked, his voice laced with admiration.

you turned to him, a playful glint in your eyes. “thanks, stef. guess i have a natural talent for handling sticks.”

stefan's grin widened, his charm evident. “oh, i'm sure you do. but the real question is, can you handle the pressure?” you bit your lip, locking eyes with your favorite vampire. “how about you give me some pressure worth handling?”

his laughter mingled with yours, the two of you sharing a moment that seemed to ignite a spark in the air. as you lined up your next shot, the flirtatious exchange continued, the chemistry between you and stefan undeniable.

jeremy, nursing a drink at the bar, watched the scene unfold with a mixture of irritation and jealousy. the snarky remarks you and stefan exchanged felt like a constant reminder of his own frustration, a reminder of the feelings he was desperately trying to suppress.

damon, leaning against the bar beside jeremy, chimed in. “looks like our friend jeremy here could use a bit of that playful banter in his life.”

jeremy shot him a glare. “i'd rather not engage in childish games.”

damon raised an eyebrow, his smirk never fading. “pity, really. you're missing out on all the fun.”

as the night wore on, the tension between you and jeremy seemed to escalate with every sarcastic barb. the energy was thick with resentment and a tangled web of emotions, a battle of words that had become a battlefield of its own.

elena, sensing the growing hostility, exchanged a concerned look with bonnie. with a knowing glance, elena approached her brother, her expression firm yet empathetic. “you need to talk to her, jeremy.”

he looked at her incredulously. “why would i do that?”

elena's gaze softened, her voice gentle. “because this jealousy isn't healthy, and it's only getting worse. you have to be honest with yourself and with her.”

jeremy's gaze hardened, his anger still simmering. “why does it even matter?”

elena's voice was steady. “because you can't keep pretending that your feelings for her don't exist. it's not fair to either of you.”

with a sigh, jeremy leaned against the bar, his defenses crumbling. he watched as you shared another flirtatious smile with stefan, the jealousy gnawing at him like a persistent ache.

finally, he approached you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “can we talk?”

you turned to him, your gaze cool but curious. “sure, if you can handle a conversation without your usual bitchiness.”

he nodded, the tension between you two palpable. as you stepped away from the pool table and found a quieter corner, the echoes of the bar's chaos faded into the background.

the corner you found was dimly lit, the ambient noise of the bar fading into a distant murmur as you and jeremy faced each other. the tension between you was increasing, an unspoken storm of emotions swirling in the air.

jeremy cleared his throat, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “look, i know I've been an asshole, and I've said a lot of things i didn't mean. but the truth is—i've been struggling with something i didn't want to admit.”

you arched an eyebrow, your voice laced with skepticism. “and what's that, jer?”

he took a deep breath, his voice earnest. “i've been jealous. jealous of the attention you get, especially from stefan. i've been hiding my feelings behind snarky comments and sarcasm, but the reality is—i care about you. more than i should.”

your gaze softened, the walls around your heart beginning to crumble. his honesty was unexpected, and it touched something within you that you had been trying to bury.

“you know, jeremy,” you said softly, “it's not easy being a vampire in a world where vampire hunters exist. there's a constant struggle to reconcile who i am with what i've become.”

he nodded, his expression understanding. “i get that. i do. and maybe that's why i've been pushing you away, because i couldn't handle my own conflicting emotions.”

you took a step closer, the distance between you closing. “so, what now?”

jeremy's gaze locked onto yours, his voice steady. “i want to stop pretending. i want to stop fighting what i feel, even if it means admitting that I'm not as strong as i thought.”

a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “that's a start.”

before either of you could say another word, the tension that had been building between you erupted into a fiery passion. his lips crashed against yours, a mixture of longing and pent-up emotions spilling over in the form of a scorching kiss.

the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two of you in that moment. it was a kiss fueled by months of frustration, desire, and a newfound honesty that had broken down the barriers between you.

when the kiss finally ended, you both pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed. the air was charged with electricity, the connection between you stronger than ever before.

“wow,” jeremy muttered, his voice a mixture of surprise and wonder.

you grinned, your heart pounding in your chest. “yeah, wow.”

the weight of unspoken words hung in the air, a promise of what could be if you both chose to let go of the past and embrace the uncertain future.

as you stood there, hand in hand, the possibilities stretched out before you like an open road. the complexities of your emotions were no longer a barrier, but a bridge—a bridge that could lead to something unexpected, something beautiful, and something worth the risk.

[thornedrose44]

Lena Luthor: Random Crap Generator

Read on AO3

She liked to think it was a gift from her mother - her final wish or a blessing.

Or maybe even a bizarre recompense from a universe that believed the smallest smidge of magic made up for depriving a girl of her mother. (It was the equivalent of the sun going out and being given a match with the propensity to sputter and die or generate a light unable to cast further than three feet ahead.)

It was still magic - something tangible, individual and beyond understanding - and even in her childish heart, that was so overwhelmed with grief and loneliness, it provided a spark of giddiness and excitement. It made her feel special. 

What would it be today?

A lily so she had something to lay on her mother’s coffin.

An umbrella to shield her when she was caught in an unforecasted shower, sat on the curb by the police station waiting for the strange man in fancy clothes to pick her up and take her to her new home.

A chess piece - white knight - to replace the one that Lex had lost when they had moved the board from the living room to the garden for the day, it meant they could play and pretend to ignore the raised voices of Lionel and Lillian.

A pencil to replace the one that snapped in her first lesson on her first day at school.

It was impressive until Lena grew used to it. Learned that there were limitations. 

It was never anything substantive or of high value, it had to fit in her hand, had to be small and low value as if whatever this ability was could only pull items from a ninety-nine cent store. She got one item a day. It would be there in her hand when she woke up and then it would vanish when she fell asleep.

(She tested it out, working out what it was linked to - a time or the actual act of sleeping. She stayed up all night, holding tight to the sleep mask she’d had awoken that morning with to see when it would disappear. It remained resolute and real. It wasn’t until she fell asleep in the late morning, eye mask pulled on to block out the bright sunlight that it vanished at some point during her exhaustion-induced nap.)

It was during her teen years - particularly the angsty goth phase she leaned into - that she dubbed her power ‘The Random Crap Generator’ (unsurprisingly the name stuck).

The item didn’t tell her the future but gave some decent hints which, as Lena grew older, was more appreciated than the actual cheap item itself. 

The earplugs she woke up to in her hand on her first day at college let her know that the girl next door did not understand that the walls were thin, her moans were loud and pretending that her boyfriend was an effective lover did not actually make it so.

The roll of quarters pre-warned of the washing machine in the shared college house was broken before Jack and Sam yelled for her help in fixing it. 

(The condom was particularly embarrassing and made her acutely aware of the most likely outcome of the fancy date that Jack had planned for that evening).

The cuddly brown bear told Lena that Sam’s water would break two weeks earlier than expected.

Most of the time it was harmless or a helpful nudge.

Other times, though, it was a gut punch or an omen that left her on tenterhooks for the whole day.

Lena remembered waking to find bandages in her hand and small alcohol wipes. She’d had injuries before - fencing could get brutal and every engineer has their personal soldering story that keeps them vigilant for all future interactions. But this was different. It was different because she was set to wear a wire that day. It was different because she now knew what her brother was capable of. She couldn’t take the bandages with her, it would have undermined her role - the doting sister who could never imagine her brother causing her harm. She tucked them into her nightstand and later when she made her way home after hours at the police station - the officers already starting to sneer at her despite her crucial help - she’d come home and retrieved the morning supplied medical items and tended to the damage on her wrists from Lex’s too tight handcuffs.

Then there was the day she woke to something small and cold in her hand. She’d rolled it on her fingertips under the quilt, hoping that when she finally pulled it free and studied it that it wouldn’t be what she suspected it was. She kept the bullet with her, tucked into a hidden pocket of her suit. A single bullet without a gun doesn’t attract much attention. When she picked up the gun and found the chamber empty, she didn’t even bother to check that the bullet was the right type. She knew it would be. One shot was all she needed, and then Lex was bleeding out in front of her.

The days following that she awoke to a box of tissues and she worked away her way through them diligently - until she had no tears left to shed and her heart couldn’t break any further.

She ignored the small compact mirror that was in the palm of her hand every morning as she sought revenge and retribution. She threw it in the trash, out a window, ran over it with her car and even destroyed it with a controlled explosive. Regardless, the exact same mirror (cheesy pink casing and slightly chipped in the corner) would appear and Lena belligerently refused to study herself in it - aware of the unfamiliar darkness she would see brewing in her eyes.

(The day after she had reached out to Kara to repair their damaged relationship and return to the light, she awoke to a simple gold star sticker stuck to the palm of her hand - the exact gold star stickers her Mom had given for completing little chores and tasks. She had cried into the pillows until they were damp and her cheeks red and flushed.)

A red, blue and yellow friendship bracelet - fraying on the ends but clearly made with love and care - was clasped tight in a fist when she awoke every morning during Kara’s absence as if to serve as tether or connection until her return.

Xxx

Despite her Random Crap Generator (trademark pending), Lena had still struggled to believe in magic. 

(Mostly because if magic was real, what was the point of her entire career and scientific pursuits? If magic was real and could do so many amazing things, why did her mother walk into the sea? Why if there was so much wonder and things beyond what they could merely see, why wasn’t it enough for her mother? Why? Why? Why?)

She didn’t understand her power but she believed that there was an explanation that was simply yet to reveal itself - her main working theory was time travel. A version of herself in the future - who for some reason only had a bucket of bargain items on hand indicating a rather dramatic change in her financial circumstances - sent back ‘useful’ items for each day of her life in the hope to aid her without causing some dramatic paradox.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to say that all again…” Kara requested, crease between her brows so deep it almost looked endless.

“Which part exactly?” Lena frowned as they sat down for breakfast in Kara’s apartment.

“The part where you’ve been magical since a little girl and yet belligerently refused to believe in magic? Or the part where you're only telling me this now?” Kara spluttered, resisting even starting the stack of pancakes in front of her to instead question Lena, which told her this was a ‘serious’ matter.

“I just…” Lena waved a hand and shrugged, “didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Wha- I- you- Argh!” Kara aggressively stabbed her pancakes and shoved a chunk into her mouth chewing angrily.

Lena sighed, “Look it’s not like it’s…” She hesitated wondering if they were at a stage in their renewed friendship (post-reveal, post-revenge, post-apology, post-Lex, post-sharing-your-super-secret-with-the-whole-world) to nod back to it in a gentle way. “Cool superpowers. It’s a hairband when my one snapped the day before. It’s a chocolate bar when I have low blood sugar. It’s… it’s crap.”

Kara gasped in outrage at the descriptor. “It’s not crap!”

“Kara… Come on.” Lena rolled her eyes.

“My best friend’s magical abilities are not crap.” Kara declared, chin lifted with determination, reaching out with her free hand to squeeze Lena’s forearm - hand remaining there even once the comforting touch had been provided.

(They were doing that more often, reaching out and maintaining contact. It was simple and affectionate, and from afar it would be considered merely friendly but up close? Up close you could see how Lena’s cheeks became rose-tinted, how Kara’s breath caught and how they both snuck glances at one another, their smiles small yet greedy.)

“Regardless,” Lena continued clearing her throat, and trying to ignore the swoop in her stomach, as her voice softened to something apologetic and deeply sincere. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

She hadn’t even really told Kara either, her ability outed itself. She and Kara had had their twice weekly sleepover (Lena didn’t study the ramifications of them having their own drawer and closet space at each other’s places), and upon waking to Kara’s arm slung over her waist and face pressed to her back, Lena found a full pack of pancake mix in her hand which Kara had immediately queried. 

It sort of all came tumbling out from there.

“I appreciate that.” Kara acknowledged, lips shiny with syrup as she smiled at Lena. 

“Thank you.” Lena nodded.

“But seriously how could you not believe in magic with all that going on?”

Xxx

They started sleeping over at each other’s places more and more. Kara was curious about Lena’s power and had the child-like wonder with each new day’s offering that Lena had lost over the years. Even if Lena couldn’t help but indulge in Kara’s joy, there were other benefits to incentivise her.

Kara would hold her close in bed, pulling her back against her chest, nose sneaking through the locks of her hair to trace the nape of her neck. Lena would press yesterday’s item into Kara’s hand, who always held onto it with the vain hope that if she held it just right it wouldn’t vanish, whilst Lena would keep her right hand held out across the mattress so upon waking whatever had appeared would be instantly visible.

The first morning there was a bright red box with a handle; Lena had handed it over to Kara immediately who giddily turned the handle producing the shrill childish music before popping loudly to reveal a jack-in-the-box. 

Lena had never loved her ability more than she did in that moment.

xxx

“Ugh…” Alex groaned, sniffling loudly as she collapsed onto the stool next to Lena. 

“Everything okay?” Lena queried, flinching away when Alex sneezed violently into the crook of her arm.

“Sorry,” Alex mumbled, voice nasally, “Esme picked up a cold from school and it's taken me and Kelly out. I’m at least somewhat mobile so I took Tower duty.”

“Sounds like this is for you, then.” Lena said, without really thinking about it, handing over the cold and flu medicine she’d been granted that morning.

“Huh?” Alex frowned, accepting the medicine, “Thanks… did you just have this on you?”

Lena hesitated for a second, “You could say that.”

Alex’s gaze narrowed, “Did Kelly message you to pick this up for me?”

“No, I just had it to hand.” 

Alex blinked, “Wait is this… like yours?”

“Mine?” Lena repeated.

“You know…” Alex held out her hand and opened and closed it repeatedly. “Creation magic.”

“Temporary Random Crap Generator.” Lena corrected and confirmed.

“So, if I take this medicine and you go to sleep, would the drug just disappear from my bloodstream?” Alex questioned.

“Not sure, I think it would if I was given a different item upon waking but if I generated the same item, I don’t think so. That’s what happens when I’m ill, I keep getting the medicine until I’m better.” Lena explained.

“Hmph…” Alex replied, eyes watery and cheeks flushed enough to stop her from interrogating further, she shrugged and took her medicine as Lena returned to her work. “Hey… what… what is this branding?”

“Hmm?”

“This look like it's from the nineties?” Alex said, looking utterly perplexed, “Is it like retro or something?”

Lena glanced at the bright colours and blocky design that marked it as older than the sleeker and simpler designs of today. “Uhh… yeah, it must be.”

She’d never really considered the design, whenever she got sick she didn’t go to the pharmacy for over the counter medication, she always awoke with the simple medication she required - anything requiring a prescription was beyond her crap generator abilities. It had never really clicked that the medicine she received was exactly the brands her mother used to stock their medicine cabinet with. 

“Hey, I’m tired and for once there is no crime…” Alex began, glancing furtively around - it was just them and Brainy at the tower since Kara was training Nia to help her take point on missions, meaning Kara could step away from the cape for longer periods as required, and J’onn was having a much earned day off.

Lena raised an eyebrow waiting for the follow-up.

“Want to design some experiments for your RCG?” Alex suggested, a sparkle appearing in her eyes - scientific curiosity that wasn’t indulged as often anymore.

“RCG?” Lena questioned as Brainy popped his head into the room, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Did someone say design an experiment?”

“For Lena’s Random Crap Generator powers - RCG.” Alex explained.

Lena rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help but smile, “Sure, why not?”

“YES!” Brainy and Alex both yelled in excitement.

Xxx

They were all from home. 

As in her mother’s home. Or more generally from her childhood.

The tissues, the medicine, the sweet treats, the gold stars, even the bullet. (Her mother had kept a gun in the back of her closet, she didn’t think Lena knew but Lena had seen her cleaning it when she couldn’t sleep one night). All of it. 

It explained the low cost nature of it all, they’d lived very simply and shopped at the local stores which were always plentiful with their random items and knick-knacks. 

They’d spent the day tracing the items, looking up each one to confirm the hypothesis. Kara had come in and stuck close to Lena’s side, hand on the small of her back throughout it all. It wasn’t until they returned home (together as always) that Lena broke. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Kara soothed, effortlessly picking her up and taking her straight to bed to lie down.

“I’m sorry, I don't know why I’m crying.” Lena sobbed, curling into Kara’s chest.

Kara kissed her forehead, “You don’t need to know why. You can just cry.”

Lena took the advice to heart and sobbed until her chest ached and her face felt puffy. She fell asleep cradled in Kara’s arms and when she awoke it was to the teddy she’d had when she was a child held close to her chest. 

“You knew I wasn’t okay before I did.” Lena breathed into the still morning air. She knew Kara was already awake - her breathing was an edge to light and her thumb was stroking back and forth on Lena’s stomach to soothe her. Lena turned around to face Kara, the teddy bear held tight in her arms as she met gentle blue eyes.

“Yes.” Kara confirmed, gaze flickering over Lena’s features.

“How?”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t miss it the next time.” Kara replied, volume low as if to create a private bubble that was just their own.

“Miss what?” Lena asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Your sadness. Your hurt.” Kara whispered, “I don’t want you to ever face those things alone again.”

Lena inhaled a shaky breath, hand shyly reaching out to cup Kara’s face, “Kara…”

Kara turned her head and pressed a kiss to the palm of Lena’s hand, her eyes slipping closed as if to fully concentrate on absorbing the contact. 

“I didn’t have anything from Krypton for so long.” Kara revealed slowly, head turning back to look at Lena who took the opportunity to trace Kara’s features tenderly with her fingertips - keeping them linked and bound. “My Mother’s necklace was pretty much all I had. Kal-El kept the fortress to himself for a long time as he wanted me to assimilate and the DEO took my pod.

“I had nothing left but memories and they were shaky, and I would weep for every detail lost over time. A rhyme my friends would sing. The ingredient quantities for my Father’s favourite treat. The exact shade of my Mother’s favourite dress. I know material objects aren’t as important as the memories but they can provide comfort. Give solidity to the events. Evidence that they really happened and don’t just live in your head but were real and tangible too.”

“How could they have taken so much from you?” Lena murmured desperately - she was referring to the DEO, to Kal, to the universe. Why did it take, take, take and leave so little in return? Especially from someone like Kara who would give and give and give without thought for herself.

“They took from you too, Lena.” Kara soothed, reaching out to run a hand over the fuzzy fur of Lena’s bear (a bear that Lillian had snatched away from her a week after arriving at the mansion). “When I found my pod in the DEO…” Kara glanced away, jaw working, “I curled up inside it and cried myself to sleep. I never told anyone.”

Lena shuffled closer, noses near touching and air shared. “I didn’t recognise them, I didn’t… make the connection.”

“It was all you knew as a kid, it was normal, it’s only as time has gone by and the items have remained the same that… you could see it.” Kara explained patiently.

“I feel like I forgot her.” Lena admitted, choking back a sob.

“You didn’t.” Kara said.

Lena sniffled, “Do you think…”

“Do I think?” Kara encouraged when Lena broke off.

“Do you think it's my magic or my mother’s?” Lena asked, wanting Kara to make her believe in the impossible once more. To believe that love was more potent than anything in the universe.

“Does it matter?” Kara replied, “Your mother gave you a safe and happy childhood with the smallest of things, and whether she cast the spell or you did… she was the one that showed you how the tiniest of items can provide the greatest of joy. She did that and you’ve carried it on.”

xxx

“Lena, are you alright?” J’onn inquired kindly, slowly approaching her worktop. 

Lena looked up, shoulders slumped and a slight shake to her hands that prevented her from assisting with the sensitive work that she had been working on with Brainy to handle their villain of the week - an alien that secreted a burning chemical preventing Kara from getting close without receiving burns that took her an entire day to heal. Lena had been relegated to a computer supporting Alex in tracking the aliens movements.

“I…” Lena began, hands frozen over the keyboard before faltering.

“You need not tell me what is bothering you, I merely wish to make you aware that I am here if you require anything.” J’onn murmured. “Nia is looking out for Kara as well.”

“Is she okay?” Lena queried panickedly, remembering how tightly Kara had hugged her that morning and how she promised everything would work out.

“Of course.” J’onn reassured, “She was noted to be more withdrawn than usual and Nia is keeping watch on her demeanour.”

“Oh… good.” Lena sighed.

J’onn waited a beat, clearly allowing Lena to decide if his presence was still wanted.

“It was a box of tissues.” Lena confessed. 

“Your gift?” J’onn checked, moving to take the seat next to Lena - correctly identifying the revelation as an invitation.

Lena nodded.

“Does it always herald something bad?” 

Lena bit her lip and nodded once more.

“I see.” J’onn hummed. 

“What if something happens to Kara?” Lena asked, feeling small and so childish for even voicing the question.

But J’onn didn’t tsk or even reject the possibility, he merely considered this for a long moment.

“Then we handle it. Together.” J’onn said. It was the simplicity and definitiveness of it that helped, Alex had tried too hard to say everything would be okay, but J’onn accepted the possible future and didn’t turn away from it.

“I feel like I’m waiting for the end of the world.”

“Would you like to hold my hand?” J’onn offered, hand moving to rest on the worktop between them. “Until Kara comes back?”

Lena swallowed thickly before reaching out and clinging tightly to J’onn’s hand.

Later, when Brainy had stabilised the neutralising agent and the alien was safely locked away, not a single scratch on Kara in the fight, Lena was nervously waiting on the balcony for her return - J’onn squeezing her hand once more before leaving her to await Kara’s return.

There was a flash - a flicker in her vision - her hair sent wildly off in every direction and loose bits of clothing (her untucked blouse) billowing in the rush of wind.

“Are you okay? Has anything happened?” Kara questioned, warm hands cradling Lena’s face, blue eyes wide and frantic. 

“I-”

“I kept safe, I promise.” Kara rushed on, “I wasn’t stupid, I wouldn’t risk- I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

“I know, Kara, I know.” Lena replied, hands reaching for Kara’s hips - needing to feel that she was really there with her own hands. 

“I won’t let anything terrible happen, okay?” Kara promised desperately.

“It’s okay, it’s okay if it does.” Lena said; Kara blinked jolting in place slightly. Lena’s hands slipped round Kara’s hips to the small of her back, pulling them closer together until there was no space between them. “Because we’ll face it together. El mayarah.”

“El mayarah.” Kara repeated, gaze dropped to Lena’s lips, studying how she said the words of her family intently. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

Lena inhaled and then Kara’s lips were pressed to her own, warm and welcome in the cold night air. Kara’s hands moved from Lena’s face, one twisting through her hair guiding her this way and that, and the other to her waist pushing her against the nearest wall. Locking them in.

Kara kissed her with a level of confidence and certainty that revealed how deeply she’d thought about this, had choreographed it for nearly every scenario, adapting it to suit every little bit of knowledge Lena had given her about how she liked to be touched and treated. Her grip was strong but her lips gentle, and Lena couldn’t help but melt.

Every wall and emotional barrier swept away like melted ice with a single sweep of Kara’s tongue.

“Kara,” Lena choked out, needing air.

Kara pulled back immediately, her own lips red and wet, her golden curls tangled and practically debauched. “Lena.. you’re…”

Lena reached up to her cheeks and felt the tracks of the silent, jubilant tears. “Oh.”

“Happy tears?” Kara grinned.

“The happiest.” Lena beamed, arms wrapping around Kara’s neck to pull her back in.

xxx

“Darling, is everything okay?” 

“Swell!” Kara replied overly chirpy, her smile that edge too stiff to be one hundred percent true. 

“Swell?” Lena giggled, grabbing Kara’s hand on the table and squeezing comfortingly.

“I mean… Great! Good! Fantastic!” Kara corrected enthusiastically. “Does the food taste good?”

“Excellent.” Lena complimented, savouring the taste of the meal Kara had been working on and stressing over all afternoon for their one year anniversary. 

“Yeah?” Kara breathed out, the relief obvious in how her shoulders dropped a couple of inches from around her ears.

“Yes.” Lena confirmed leaning over the corner of the table to kiss her girlfriend sweetly. “Thank you so much for cooking. I love how much effort you put into this.” She paused before gathering her courage to add, “It makes me feel special.”

“You are special.” Kara affirmed immediately before sucking in a deep breath - chest expanding. “I was going to wait until dessert but I don’t think I can.”

Lena tilted her head to the side curiously, only to let out a gasp of delight as Kara slipped off her chair and kneeled next to Lena’s, holding Lena’s hand between both of her own.

“Lena,” Kara began, voice warming as she went on, “you are my best friend but you are also so much more than that. You help me to hope and believe when the days are darkest. You inspire me to never give up. You bring me laughter and happiness in thousands of ways I never thought possible for myself. You make everyday feel like a gift with endless possibilities. Best Friend and Girlfriend feel inadequate terms for how much of myself belongs to you, how much of myself wants to be yours. So, Lena Kieran Luthor, will you do me the greatest honour of my entire existence? Will you marry me?”

Lena was already nodding at the start of the speech and the second the question was asked, Lena pushed herself off her chair and into Kara’s arms.

“Yes, yes, yes!” 

Kara got to her feet, lifting Lena up in the process and twirling them round and round their shared home. She gently placed Lena back onto her own feet and reached into the pocket of the blazer she was wearing.

“Oh no…” Kara muttered, expression turning horror struck, “Oh Rao, no.”

“Kara? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find the ring.” Kara said, shucking off her jacket and turning it upside down as if it was merely tucked away somewhere inside it. “I was so sure it was in my pocket, it must be somewhere.” She dropped the item to the ground, head rotating left and right, x-ray vision inevitably sweeping the area in order to find it, “I’ll be right back, I-”

“Kara, it’s okay.” Lena interjected, laying a hand on her arm, keeping her (hopefully) fiancee in place with the lightest of touches.

Kara wrung her hands, looking utterly disheartened, “No, you should have a ring-”

“I do have one.” Lena replied, pulling a large mood ring off the index finger of her right hand.  “I think this is for you. It appeared this morning.”

Kara took it, brow furrowing in amazement, “You had this since this morning?”

“Mmhmm…” Lena hummed, holding out her left hand.

Kara carefully cradled her proffered hand and smoothly slipped the mood ring onto her ring finger. “Have I ever told you how useful your power is?”

Lena beamed, “Everyday.”

[lxvebun]

Safehouse

synopsis: the only signs of life in Simon's apartment happen to all be things related to you.

content: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gender neutral reader. Fluff +slight hurt/comfort. Pushing my Soft simon agenda. Use of nicknames Love and Doll. Around 500 words. Eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡ not completely proofread let me know if there are any annoying mistakes♡

There are traces of you lingering all over Simon's place. Little sparks of warmth in an otherwise dull and cold apartment. Like the dried roses hanging above his bed. A striking contrast of withered red on a pale white wall. It's the only piece of decoration he has. You gave him a small bouquet on your first date. Although a bit shy and hesitant because would a guy like him even like roses? Flowers in general? He never cared for them before but his heart skips a beat now every time he sees them, be it in nature or the ones above his bed that act as a nontraditional dreamcatcher. Because "they make me dream of you, love" He confessed

Or the stupidly soft and fluffy throw blanket you conveniently "forgot" at his place. The one that's decorated with doodle forms of ghosts and hearts. It's neatly folded next to his pillow and if you catch him cuddling up to it in his sleep, "you're just hallucinating. Go back to bed, doll."

You never asked for it back and any attempts to give it to you resulted in you forgetting it again at his place. Partly because it's just a very fitting blanket and the thought of him using it makes your heart soar but mostly because you've slept under Simon's normal sheets and they are thin, do a horrible job at keeping out the cold and you're pretty sure holes are starting to appear at the seams.

You know his apartment looks the way it does because he doesn't want to get too used to comfort. He doesn't want to dull the edge his job has left him with only to have to sharpen it again once he leaves. So he doesn't admit that his skin is cold, or that the couch is falling apart and that the windows need replacing because he'll leave again in a few months if not sooner anyway. Where there won't be things as thick warm sheets or comfortable living space.

This survival instinct of his is not strong enough to keep him from staying over at your place any chance he gets tho. And although he keeps saying, for reasons you now know, that he doesn't need much, you can see the weight on his shoulders melt off the moment he steps foot into your home. Your home with warm, low lighting and flickering candles carrying the scent of vanilla. Your home with dark oak bookcases stretching out against the walls holding stories from fantasy to non-fiction and the occasional little trinket.

Your home that's utterly and completely you from the color of paint on your walls, the ridiculously large ceramic mugs in the cupboard, to the plants you keep in your windowsill and the scent of your candles. It's you. It's safe.

It's safe enough for him to lower his guard. It's still there of course, it's been so engraved into his very being you're not sure it will ever leave, but it significantly decreased in the way he's not quieting his breaths to tune in to the footsteps in the corridor or the way he's not constantly trying to feel the outline of his concealed weapons through his clothes.

You're glad you can bring him a sense of safety and warmth, all you ever want is for him to be happy. But you do admit you would love to find more traces of him lingering in your home. Even just the thought of seeing his shoes next to yours at your front door everyday makes warmth bloom in your chest.

Perhaps tonight you can finally ask him to move in with you.♡

Thank you for reading, Angel♡

More Simon fics

[moons-of-dewclan]

HOW TO RESET YOUR CLAN TO EARLIER MOON

(another case of 'one person asked, i deliver) ok first, you sort of can't. YOU GOTTA RESTART with a 'new' clan and transfer! SECONDLY, this may be more complicated than it needs to be bc i don't know how to do things simply. i'm trying my best tho. THIS IS HOW I'VE DONE IT. i recommend watching videos or reading up on how to 'edit files' bc this isn't exhaustive. IT REALLY HELPS IF YOU KNOW HOW TO MESS WITH THE FILES. this is SUPPLEMENTAL KNOWLEDGE FIRST!! save a backup of your clan files (The JSON FILE, AND CLAN FOLDER) in case you make a whoopsie and destroy your code. READ THIS ALL BEFORE TRYING. i'll be noting some things that are MAKE OR BREAK. literally. make ur code or break your code IN THIS EXAMPLE, i'm going back to moon 15 for Dewclan from moon 50, and I'm going to pretend there are only 4 cats- Lyre, Vanilla, Nettle and Spark. I'll refer the clan you want to set back as the 'Canon' clan, and the one you're going to be rewinding to as the 'Rewound' clan! THEN HERE WE GOOOOO FIRST, NEW CLAN. pick the same mode as the clan you're trying to 'Rewind'.

NAME IT WHATEVER. you'll change it later..

Pick those cats. i like to pick the minimum necessary. but it doesn't really matter, as you're going to more or less be copypasting your old cats into this 'Rewound' clan.

START IN THE SAME PLACE. and in the same SEASON that your Canon clan started in. I started Dewclan in Leafbare. do not choose the season that's taking place on the moon you want to rewind to. the one you STaRted on. (you're going to choose what moon you're on later in settings. this keeps the progression consistent. if you started in leafbare, but choose greenleaf for the Rewound clan, 15 moons in, you'll be on a different season than your Canon clan would be bc your starting point was different. even if i'm not explaining that well just do it i promise LAKSNNDKS)

WOW THESE AREN'T MY BABIES. ok time to kill or delete three of these suckers bc i only need four cats. BYE GUYS

also go into your settings. MAKE EVERYTHING HOW YOU WANT IT. general, role, etc. AND THEN CLICK THAT 'OPEN DATA DIRECTORY'. this is where stuff gets GOING

click here.. saves

NOW, BELOW!! the folders, it'll have a JSON file with your Rewound clan name. THIS IS IMPORTANT. there are things in here that you need to change. some require you to peek at your cats, and some don't. We'll get to it later! FOR NOW, click the folder above this that says your Rewound clan name! mine is 'DewAGAIN'

THEN YOU GOT ALL THE JUICY STUFF

CLICK CLAN CATS. AND LOOK BELLLOOOW. we're gonna transfer our beloved babies over. i recommend you copy from "name_prefix" to "favourite": false in the Canon clan (keep their ID number from this Rewound clan the same. don't replace it with their ID number from the Canon clan), then select all that info in the Rewound clan and paste it to overwrite. and then adjust what you need to. AND YOU WILL NEED TO ADJUST I HIIIGHLY recommend leaving the ID numbers and pasting Canon leader info into Rewound leader info. med cat into med cat. deputy into deputy. Rewound clan leader is ID 20? paste your Canon clan leader info info 20. keep Canon clan's number as 20.

SOME OF THESE ARE VERY IMPORTANT. 1. ID NUMBER. if your cat has any relationships, like parents or mates, you need these numbers to match those cats. ALSO if your cat has a specific role, like medicine cat, leader, mediator or deputy, their number needs to match the number designated in the CLAN JSON info shown in the next image. FOR NOW I CONTINUE. 2. IMPORTANT NUMBERS. Sparkplug (her name isn't rly sparkplug btw)'s parent is Lyrestar. Lyre's ID number is 1. if that ID number doesn't match or doesn't exist in this game, you'll get an error! Same goes for mentors and mates. at moon 15, Spark wouldn't have these. But if i transferred her from moon 50 where she did, I'll have to replace the mate/mentor/whatever will 'null', etc, shown here. make sure everything here is relevant to moon 15, and not moon 50! 3. IF your cat was dead when you copypasted, change that! Dead?? FALSE. from dead 'true'.. ... where did 4 and 5 go..- ANYWAY 6. EXPERIENCE. make sure you drop this back to where it was at that moon. lest your kit graduate to warrior bc they have 3000 experience. 7. FALLS INTO 2. do they have an apprentice in the Canon clan that they wouldn't have in the rewound clan? gET RID OF EM. (you can copypaste that portion from a cat without an apprentice or just rewrite it as 'null', but sometimes i type things wrong and get errors so.. i copypaste. just make sure you're copying and pasting from the right start and end point.) IF YOUR CAT HAD AN APPRENTICE IN MOON 15, AND NOT 50.. you can either just set them as mentor and apprentice ingame manually, or write it into the code. i would do it manually tho bc i'm easily confused

NOW WE GET INTO WHERE THE CLAN JSON IS IMPORTANT.

ABOVE ARE MARKED, IMPORTANT THINGS. some will break the game if you don't do it right. SO 1. Name. You can change this later, to your Canon clan name. You need to also change the FOLDER name to match. The folder that you click to get to your 'Clan Cats' files and stuff. YOU WILL HAVE TO CHANGE YOUR CANON CLAN FOLDER NAME AND FILE NAME TO SOMETHING ELSE or it'll corrupt! 2. HERE you change to the moon you want to rewind to. I'd change mine, to 15! season changes along with the moon number automatically. 3. INSTRUCTOR. this is the cat that leads your cats to starclan. predead. dw about it, unless you've messed with the dead cat and want to change it to your old starclan guide. then change the number, to your guide's ID number. You'll see it in the Clan Cats folder! LEADER. you need to change this to your clan leader's number or the files get confused. this is why i recommend replacing Rewound leaders with leaders, deputies with deputies, etc, and not also pasting the old numbers. the numbers are already set. ALSO this is where the leader's lives are dictated! DEPUTY. same as above! MED CAT.... SAME. but also, if you have multiple, add multiple! 4. You can change these names to the Canon names. if you had more or less other clans, you can delete or add more. just make sure to have the same number of clans as 'relations' and 'temperaments'! four clans, for traits and temperaments. 5 clans, 5 traits and temperaments. FINAL PAIN IN THE ARSE is.. having to adjust relationships. bc your 'new' clan won't have established relationships. you gotta go in and adjust the values. it sucks big ass but i don't know a better way to do it snff..

QUICK TIP if you absolutely don't want romance between two unrelated cats bc it would be weird for story reasons, you can change their status in the relationships file change family: false, to family: true. the game thinks they're related and romance won't happen HAHAHAAAAA .. at least in my experience. if this is wrong i'll cry

[wildissylupus]

Ok I see a lot of people talking about Fig being a Paladin of Ankarna, which I agree with.

I've also seen a theory about Bucky becoming a Paladin of Cassandra, which I also think is highly possible.

But I see no one talking about the possibility of Buddy becoming a Cleric of Ankarna.

Think about it, he is very obviously a foil to Kristen. Like Nara, he is essentially a what if scenario, him being what if Kristen never met Helio or the Bad Kids. It's also very evident that he's a lot more driven then Kristen, and considering how he acts, which again, is very similar to how Freshmen Year Kristen acted. I think it's only a matter of time before Buddy looses faith. I also think that Kristen's expulsion could be what triggers it, because there is no way that this will be a fair expulsion. Either Bobby and Kipperlily are working together, or it's just a situation where it's something that Kristen shouldn't have been expelled for. Which ends up sparking questions for Buddy.

I also think it would be poetic if Buddy, someone who is a devout worshiper of the god that replaced Ankarna, who had a hand in corrupting her. Ends up recognizing the injustice of the situation and sides with the Bad kids in restoring her.

I also just really hope that all the Rat Grinders are just misguided, I don't like the idea of them all being generically evil. Kipperlily being an exception because she actually has the set up to be totally evil, everyone else we don't spend enough time with. I doubt they are generically evil though, cause Brennen doesn't read as that type of writer and DM.

[beagan-gaidhlig]

Duolingo’s decision to lay off thousands of human translators and replace them with AI has sparked a heated controversy. Critics argue that this move disregards the value and expertise that human translators bring to the table.

edit: Additional link (posted Jan 8th, 2024) - "About 10% of contractors were “offboarded,” a company spokesperson said Monday. “We just no longer need as many people to do the type of work some of these contractors were doing. Part of that could be attributed to AI,” the spokesperson said.

Chief Executive Officer Luis von Ahn said in a November letter to shareholders that the company is using generative AI — a technology that lets users more quickly create text, speech and images — to produce “new content dramatically faster,” such as the scripts to shows that help teach languages. The company also uses AI to generate voices within the app and has introduced a premium tier, Duolingo Max, with AI-generated feedback and conversations in other languages."

[eddiesbigolepp]

that’s just too bad

synopsis: munson got his hands on a film camera and thinks he can get away with all the sneaky pictures he’s taking of you

pairing: eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

word count: 1319

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), perv!eddie, swearing, smut, nudity, drugs, genetailia. general nsfw themes

a/n: these memories are in chronological order from strangers to friends to lovers, just so you know!

the smell of the trailer is odd. a mix of dirty clothes, weed and whatever cologne eddie adorned. but it smelled familiar, almost like home. waking up in that familiar bed, the familiar sheets meant it was always going to be a great morning. but the flash of light that woke you up said other wise.

you wince slightly at the flash, burying your face into the pillow closest to you. eventually, you open your eyes and find a camera staring back at you. held by none other than your loving boyfriend, the one, the only, eddie munson. he wore a cheeky smile, like he knew he was guilty but could get away with it. “you’re awake,” he says, joint hanging loosely from his lips as he lets the camera hang from his neck.

you scan over his body as he kneeled at the edge of the bed. last nights activities replaying in your head as you see the bruised mark above the waistband of his boxers. your lips turn upwards as you remember. “i wonder why,” you reply, motioning toward his new prized possession. “what are you doing up so late anyway?” you question sitting up in the bed. you instinctively hold onto the thin flat sheet that covered your naked body and look at his face.

“stay still, just like that.” he smirks, pulling the camera up to his eye and quickly getting his picture before you protest.

“eddie what are you doing?” you ask pulling the joint from his lips to take a drag.

“oh that’s even better sweetheart,” he groans, smile growing wider as you roll your eyes and blow smoke into his lens. you were like art to him, and he couldn’t help but capture it. that’s the excuse he had lined up for you anyway.

“put that away and come back to bed,” you say, looking up at him so sweetly. it was your special move he liked to call it, he’d fall for it every time. he crawled back to his spot like clock work, camera still hanging on his neck like he couldn’t sleep without it. “i said to put it away,”

“but if i do then i can’t do this,” he says, quickly snapping another picture of you turning your face to look at him, blunt in hand, and dainty little pink panties peeking out from the bottom of the blanket. you’re ready to shove that camera to the floor and then head to sleep like it was no problem at all. but you weren’t that cruel, and you definitely weren’t going to pay for a replacement.

“do you always take pervy pictures of me when you think i’m not looking?” you ask laying back right into the nook of his shoulder. you turn your head to look up at blushed cheeks and a frozen face of terror. you’ve got him right where you want him.

“what are you talking about, i take tasteful pictures of you.” he counters looking back down at you. you take a long drag of the joint and giggle up at him.

“is that so?”

“of course! i would never take ‘pervy pictures’ of you, i just thought you looked sweet sleeping in my bed.” he tries to reason but you already know what he’s been up to.

“so taking pictures of me sleeping in just my under wear isn’t pervy?”

“think of it as endearing, plus you had the blanket over you!” he adds

“what about taking pictures of me when i’m stretching for practice?” you question pulling the joint to your mouth with a cocky smile.

“i.. i uh..” he stutters, closing his eyes and remembering how he hid behind the bleachers trying to spark up a blunt. he didn’t realize that you and your team were going to practice your stunts until you walked onto the field. the lot of you dropped your bags off at the stands and started stretching. he remembers seeing you bend over just mere feet from the bleachers “no shorts? naughty little cheerleader..” he mumbles to himself pulling the camera out to take a quick pic of your lacy little panties. he forgot to turn the flash off though, and when your head whipped around he ducked hard and hid behind the pile of duffel bags until you turned back around.

“or what about that time you took a picture of me while i was tanning by the pool?” he remembers it clear as day. you, laid out on one of the pool chairs glistening in the sunlight. he noticed you from a mile away, you and that tiny little bathing suit. the bright red one with white trim and stringy little straps. he just had to get a picture of it. he pulled his camera out from across the pool and quickly took a picture of you in all your glory. he still doesn’t know how he didn’t combust on the spot to this day. it was a sight for sore eyes to say the least. and those brown orbs were so so sore. he figured the hat over your head blocked your view of him taking your picture, or so he thought anyway.

“ohhh or that time we went to lovers lake, i should really leave a bathing suit in your van.” he sighs his hand coming up to run through his hair. that night was just impulse to put it plainly. you came up with the bright idea to go to lovers lake. he couldn’t pass up the idea of a night swim, and the summer heat was still annoying even at 11:47 pm. by the time he put his van in park, you were already pulling your shoes off running toward the water.“come on!” you call out pulling your shirt off and shimmying your shorts down. you slowly make your way into the water only waist deep when he pulled out the camera from the glove box to get a picture of you, moonlight illuminating your silhouette and making your matching undergarments shine in the dark. “eddie hurry!”

“or even that time when i was changing after my shower, i still lost those damn black panties” his hands ball into a fist and he remembers that time he was going to sneak into your house. he saw you in your window as he parked across the street. he was meant to be sneaking in but he couldn’t help but stare at you through your open window, completely enamored but your naked frame and eyes lust filled. he grabbed his camera from his bag held it up to his eye. he smirks, and starts heading over to climb up your house to sneak in. he climbs through your window as you pull your shirt over your head and he smiles, kissing you sweetly. as you turn to hang your towel he spots your panties in the hamper and snatches them, stuffing them into his pocket. “two for one” he chuckles to himself.

“or when we were just right here, and you had me cuffed to the bed, arched just right for you, you have a bunch of pictures from tonigh-“

“i get it i get it! but that doesn’t make me a perv it just makes me an appreciative boyfriend! and i will stand my ground.” he says cutting your off and looking down at you as you lazily take yet another drag from his blunt. “i just love the way you look, you know that! i’d just like to keep something for when you’re not here! and that does not make me a perv, it makes me loyal to you and only you.” he ends, huffing and snatching the joint from your hand.

you shift from his shoulder to supporting yourself with your elbow as you blow the smoke out into his face.

“well that’s just too bad, i like pervs.”

[skybristle]

BENDING HORIZONS IS DONE!

my local group is done!!! short descriptions r below cut!!!! im so so excited guys omg. please ask abt them [also pls rb this took ages and im rlly proud of them!] toyhouse link here that also has full individual images!!! point out ur faves! im so excited to present them to you all [please like them please like them please l- /lh]

without further ado, here we go! in seniority [and image] order

Plunging Flows of Ash [PFA] - he/him [woman!!] He’s definitely winning his senior of the cycle award! He’s been pretty depressed and poorly functioning from the jump, but would often rely on his partner, Sparks, for help and support. When she’s in her darkest hour, and his privileges as senior are needed, he consistently fails to deliver despite her constant aid in return… and after the mass ascension, he just falls off the face of the earth, sleeping through his own depression even as his dysfunctional group desperately needs him. The catalyst for everything- as he fractured his group in two with his actions and fails to rise to their needs, and he has a chronic inability to accept his own wrongdoings and the fact things have changed. Associated Slugcat: The Colorburst Countless Swirling Sparks [CSS] - she/any Well known among iterators for her many, many methods of iteration and other inventions, Sparks was built with an unusually large [and haphazard] structure that she uses to its full advantage. Always with countless screens pulled up around her, always on some project, eating up her own escapism. She was failed by her creators long ago, but is so desperate to see her fellow iterators happy she keeps pushing on. In lieu of Ash, she has risen to a faux senior status - though lacking any powers to enforce her position. Only about half of the group [Ochre, Chimes, and Aurora] answer to her with any respect of authority- she has not been able to reach the others. Her resentment for her situation with her former lover is festering, and may explode violently once things go awry… Associated Slugcat: The Brainiac

Erupting Maw [EM] - she/her She’s fucking crazy!!! Worshiped as a god by her colony, she has not coped with their loss well. Originally seeking to replace the void left by their departure, she created purposed organisms to inhabit her city and later her can… but watching them rip eachother apart was simply so much more cathartic. She has full control! Her ego and disdain for other iterators as lowly in comparison only grows. Over the cycles, her can has become notorious for having some of the most deadly creatures. She’s an expert of bioengineering… but is the danger in seeking her aid worth it? Associated Slugcat: The Gladiator

Budding Ochre Opportunities [BOO] - she/flor Based on solarpunk aesthetics, flors city and can truly is a delight! With a colony full of roof gardens and brilliant colors, she herself has taken to turning her puppet chamber into a garden. Kind and compassionate, though cutting and assertive, she has made peace with her situation as an iterator and is just trying to live a good life. As flor adds to flors collection, she doesn’t consider any of it may posit a danger to her structure. But she would be at peace with that, too, if it were to occur. The only question is if those who care about her, such as her dearest Chimes, would be. Associated Slugcat: The Recon

Resonant Chimes [RC] - he/him He’s really just chilling, hanging out. No secret problems here, no deep-seated depression over the loss of his colony that he hangs onto, no karma flowers being poured into his puppet coolant just to feel something, none of that! Collecting music, friends with slugcats and scavs alike, having a good time. He’s surprisingly intelligent and has his morals more sorted than just about anyone here, but he’s held back by general apathy and his losses. Maybe, so many cycles detached from their creators, he won’t have to worry about losing anyone again. As long as he drinks the tea, he doesn’t have to think about it, and can pull himself closer to those below who left him. Associated Slugcat: The Gardener

Reaching for Caged Starlight [RCS] - she/it/ast Frustrated endlessly, as most iterators are, by being locked in a box, she’s determined to put an end to this. Not by ascension, though. She’s determined to free them from their cans- allow an escape from this maze. Ast wants to remove the puppet from the umbilical, in a manner where they don’t lose themself completely. Much easier said than done! Its undoing, however, is its cautious and methodical nature. She is too light on her feet to simply dare and cut the wire, let alone having the experience to snap the mechanical arm entrapping her. But, she has all the time in the world, and she will one day see the stars they made her mocking name after. They’ll all see. Ast will get there, by any cost necessary, even if her fellow iterators are disposable to this goal. Associated Slugcat: The Seamstress

A Glittering Aurora [AGA] - she/he Need some gossip? He’s your guy, all right! She burns her endless time away on global chats, basking in the amusement and the knowledge. A bit of a nuisance to her own local group, as she simply can not keep a secret, but… what happens when technology degrades, the message board is silent, he no longer can block out his circumstances,,, and the drama reaches a bit too close to home? Associated Slugcat: The Copycat Wandering Whispers [WW] - they/them A very quiet, lonely iterator, Whispers strays to themself. Only allowed to speak to their fellow iterators for shipments, or, occasionally, their senior for guidance, there were few connections for them besides to the one who vanished off the face of the earth. With their personality thoroughly destroyed by the iron fist of their colony, they simply… quietly observe. But they may hear something they’re not supposed to, and, desperate for a replacement for their mentor, lead themself astray. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and they will glimpse the void in the end and take the plunge. Associated Slugcat: The Mercy

[discourse-by-candlelight]

It's odd to see an older post of ours suddenly spark back up in popularity, but while the small amount of attention is on us we may as well direct it towards something positive.

Hi, if you're here from the Soulbonding post I'd like to ask you to take some time to think about and appreciate them and their contributions to the plural community! Without the Soulbonders many things taken for granted now may never of been brought about or occurred within the endogenic and wider plural space.

From having a significant role in early plural history to popularizing terms now seen as generally plural like the word fictive, soulbonders have offered the community a fair amount. Sadly, in return they've been almost wiped off the map, leading to situations like having their terms used as an attempted replacement for tulpamancy as we discussed during the tulpacourse drama last year.

If you'd like to learn more about Souldbonding, we just recently discovered this well made carrd by @the-soulbonded-teaparty which compiles an extensive list of history, terms, and resources on the matter. It could teach you more than we ever could so we highly suggest checking it out.

Syscourse is currently a mess right now, so we hope this little offering can make some people on this site think about what exactly this community is and should be, especially in regards to the communities that have been or are being brought under the plural umbrella. We find that many subcultures like Tulpamancy, Daemonism, and Soulbonding are not well understood or appreciated as their own independent groups and practices within this community, with Soulbonding being an especially egregious example.

The individual identities of each of these subcultures are important to us, and they each have something truly special to offer as both their own entities and as forms of plurality if they so choose to identify as such. Take some time to appreciate them, and for everyone reading this, have a good day.

[luciferlightbringer]

Talk to Me

Chapter 3

Lucifer x Fem Fallen Angel Reader Word Count: 3.5k CW: Angst, trauma, swearing, slow burn, enemies to lovers(ish?), mistrust, lies, curiousity

Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4 (Updated through Chapter 5)

Before long, it was time for Lucifer to teleport back home for the night. He hugged his daughter and Vaggie goodbye, and gave a quick glare to Alastor before teleporting back home in his usual swirl of red smoke.

Once he was home he flopped on the bed and let out a long sigh. Lucifer was happy to be rebuilding his relationship with Charlie, the awkwardness of their reunion a few weeks ago had been slowly melting away, and he was really feeling like they were starting to get to know each other again. He just wished it was not on the brink of a war with Adam and his exorcists.

He had worried that Heaven would try retaliate at Charlie’s rehabilitation idea like they had with his many many years ago… but not like this. He felt the anxiety and frustrations start to rise in his body. Feelings of wishing she had just listened to him and not tried to push things with Heaven… but it was no use. He knew she was right. Things needed to change but he had just been too scared to fight, Heaven had beaten the passion out of him, leaving him with the fear of losing more. But, somehow, Charlie had been reigniting that spark in him. It was beautiful and utterly terrifying.

This upcoming battle put a new stressor on him that replaced the old stressor of how much he had missed his daughter, which somehow felt easier to manage, but in many other ways left him struggling within his mind in new ways. For so long he had be plagued by his past, watching sinners abuse the gift of free will he had given them, the separation of him from Lilith over the past seven years, the estrangement of his own daughter for what felt like most of her live. It left him dazed and disconnected from the world in general. Had left him with a growing void between himself, his kingdom, and the sinners he ruled. Sinners that he was ashamed to admit he despised at times. Having Charlie in his life again made it a little more tolerable, but if this upcoming battle did not pan out well, he was running the risk of losing her and everyone else for good, which would send him even deeper into the pit of his own mind.

But, in a way, that was another small new blessing in his life though, finding others to care about. Sinners even. He had been working on getting to know the other residents and staff at the hotel, and he enjoyed… most of them. He had been worried about that pornstar, Angel, trying to get up on his daughter, but he didn’t seem to do anything outside of a few pet-names for her, and him for that matter. Lucifer had also noticed Angel put a lot of their focus on Husk, the bartender. Lucifer crackled a small smile, he liked Husk, he was a no nonsense kinda guy but seemed to have a good heart, and a soft spot for others at the hotel. Sir Pentious was… interesting, an intelligent fool, which he could relate to. Niffty was… well she was good at cleaning, and a little terrifying. And Alastor… ugh, he couldn’t stand the guy, he clenched his fists at the thought of him. Lucifer knew that guy was up to something, and was not fond of how close his daughter had gotten to him… but he had to admit that he had been a big support to Charlie. He just knew that his actions were not selfless and it was all a fun little game for grabbing power.

Lucifer shook his head, he needed to be careful, he could get heated and obsess over his distain for Alastor if he was not careful. But the resident he was most curious about, was his daughter’s girlfriend, Vaggie. A fallen angel. It was odd because their falls had both been very different, his a physical fall from Heaven, her’s in an instance on the grounds of Hell themself, her status torn from her in a moment. But the mental pain of it all still the same. To have her wings torn off by those monsters, Adam and Lute, disgusting how they can be in the highest ranks of Heaven while people like her suffer, for sparing a fucking child!

Lucifer took another breath to slow down his thought process. That was a topic he needed to be careful about, his fall. That was a panic attack waiting to happen, a trauma he could never full process, even with Lilith even though she also fell with him. He pushed those thoughts away, as he always did, and decided it was probably time to get ready for bed. He went to go wash his face and change into pajamas.

His thoughts drift back to the hotel, then to what Charlie had mentioned about you, the newest addition to the hotel. His heart hurt to hear you had barely just arrived in Hell before getting attacked by other sinners so brutally. He had been curious about you, but understood that you might need some time to acclimate to Hell. He was just glad that you had found the hotel so soon after getting here. What sort of soul would be so keen on redemption soon after arriving in Hell? He tried hard not to immediately jump to thoughts of suspicion. All he knew is what Charlie told him, that you arrived sounding scared and hurt, and he hated that. He hating that he had created a realm that did that to people. He sighed, whenever you were ready to meet him, he wanted to do something nice to welcome you. He didn’t know what, but he would figure it out. For now, it was bed time.

——————————————————————

The next day, you were awoken by a knock on your door. You stretched and hobbled your way over to the door and opened it to find Charlie.

“Evening! How are you feeling?” She asked with a perky smile.

You cocked an eyebrow and yawned “A little better. Oh, is it dinner time?”

“Yes… but like… of the next day… it’s been over 24 hours since I last saw you… I left notes but you didn’t come out. I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” Charlie gave you an anxious grin.

Your eyes went wide, “24 hours?!” You looked at the ground and saw the few notes on the floor, “Oh Heav- I mean… Hells! Charlie, I’m sorry, I was asleep that whole time.”

Charlie laughed and swatted a hand “Oh gosh, it’s no trouble. If that’s all it was I’m just glad you were resting and healing, that’s all. I didn’t want you to miss out on eating so I just thought I would knock this time. Are you hungry?”

You were about to answer when your stomach did with a loud gurgle that was loud enough for both of you to hear. You both looked at your stomach, then at each other, then laughed.

“Is it uhh… is it ok if I eat in here though? I’m… still not ready to be out with others,” you asked sheepishly.

“Of course! We are having the last big rally before the battle downstairs so, it would probably be a bit overwhelming out there anyway. Let me go get you some food,” Charlie closed your door and ran down to the kitchen to grab you some of the food. You hated to admit it, but you were growing more tolerant of Charlie, possibly even enjoy her, though parts of your brain still worked to warn you about her. She seemed really genuine, and she couldn’t help but remind you of Emily. She seemed like someone who wanted to care for people and make them feel happy and safe.

Charlie came back with a bowl of soup and some bread, “Here we are!” She handed you your food.

“Thanks!” You said, taking the bowl and plate from her and going inside your room to set it down on a small table.

“Hey so… the extermination is tomorrow… will you have your place set up for you to be safe at during that time? If you don’t have a place, I always have my dad…”

“No! No, please, I have it taken care of, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I have a place to go. I’ll… probably just eat this, get some more sleep and be out of here early before the angels come. Ok?”

Charlie nodded, “Ok, if you aren’t up by like 8 am, I’ll come kick you out.” She gave you a wink, “Stay safe, ok?” then closed the door.

You let your curated smile deflate as you started to eat alone in your room. You didn’t realize you had put on a mask for her until she left. You couldn’t deny how much you were still working to keep up appearances around her, how much you fought with the idea of trusting her. On the other hand, you lied to her, about several different things, and that definitely did not make you feel good. Most currently, on the full belief that you had a place to stay during the extermination. You were hoping that Claire would let you hide in the Embassy, but that’s only if it is even open that day. It was all a gamble.

The next morning you woke up early and snuck out of the hotel and down to the Embassy, where one again you found Claire sweeping. She looked up to see you enter and smiled.

“Well good morning! You are looking a bit better I see, didn’t expect to see you back so soon. You doing ok at the hotel?” Claire asked as she continued to sweep.

“Uhh… ya! It’s been just fine. I’ve been asleep most of my time there. Got some actual wraps for my broken bones that have helped a lot. But, I’m here because… well…” you took a moment to collect your thoughts “The Princess’ hotel has gained the negative attention of Heaven it seems… and I am in no place to fight… so I need to hide… can I stay here? Please? I promise I won’t cause any trouble and you can kick me out at any moment if I do,” you pleaded. You hated having to beg to a hellborn, but Claire had already earned some amount of your respect and you were desperate. You knew she had probably already broken several rules when it came to you.

Claire looked around and smiled before whispering “If someone were to ask, you have a complaint and are personally coming to talk to me, got it?” She winked. You cracked a small smile, nodded, and winked back. Claire then led you back further into the Embassy, past elevators, meeting rooms, all empty, until you got to a small office with a sign that said “Clarisee Emberstone, Facilities Manager”. You were curious who else was here to even comment, but you knew Heaven had eyes everywhere. Claire opened the door and you both stepped in. It was small and cramped, full of tools, cleaning supplies, papers, a desk with a chair, and a small couch. Claire gestured for you to take a seat, and you did.

Claire sighed, “It’s not much but-“

“No no! It’s perfect. Thank you…” you smiled at her. “Thank you for being so nice to me. How can I ever repay you?” You asked.

Claire shook her head, “Nothing, I want nothing from you. I just don’t want people to suffer more than they already do.” Claire thought for a moment, “Tell you what… if you can find a way to make the most of your time in hell, to make the lives of other sinner’s a little more tolerable so that they don’t get hurt in the way you have, that’s how you can repay me, ok?”

You blinked, and nodded. That made sense, you would have to think about that, but that was an idea. An idea that tugged and churned your stomach at the thought of helping sinners, but still a good one.

Claire smiled and nodded, “Now I must get back to my cleaning, I’ll come get you when the dust settles.” You nodded and Claire closed the door behind her, leaving you once again alone with your thoughts.

You sighed and lounged on the small couch, you were thankful for the well hidden room, but your mind still had plenty to leave it cloudy and worried.

Swirling emotions that still lacked names engulfed your thoughts and the pit of your stomach. It almost hurt. You understood the fear and worry, but not worry for yourself, worry about others. You were worried for Charlie and Vaggie, worried for the sinners that you had been in hotel with that you had yet to get to know, worried about the angels that came down for them, worried about Adam and Lute, worried about how Emily was feeling, but you also hated feeling worried about them. You felt like you were worried and hated that you worried about everyone. This felt like pure madness inside your head. Nothing made sense anymore and all you knew was confusion and fear. Is this how sinners always felt? Is this what it’s like to live through an extermination? Is this what Heaven was doing to people? At least you had a place to hide, how many others didn’t?

Your head ached, you tried to focus on your breathing. And then you started to feel it, the rumbles. The angels were here. You were helpless to do nothing besides desperately sense for any tremor, any sound or shift, though you didn’t know what any of them meant or how close they were. They didn’t feel like they ever got much closer to the building you were at, but they felt more powerful at times. An occasional beam of holy energy and you could still sense from all the way over where you were.

The biggest shock came from another holy blast, and a large earthquake that felt as if the ground was cracking apart, followed by a few quick shakes… and then.. stillness. It was so still and quiet that you could hear your own heartbeat, loud as a drum, your breathing quick.

There was a knock on the door, and you jumped. Claire opened the door and gave you a smile, “Relax, we are all clear.”

“All clear?”

“Ya… the angels are gone. Portal opened back up and they all high tailed it out of here,” Claire said “Come on I’ll show ya.”

You got up and followed Claire back out to the lobby, you looked out the window, and gasped. All you could see was the rubble and remains of the building you had been sleeping in hours before, along with patches of golden blood littered along the hillside. The blood of dead angels.

You got close to the window and look for any signs of movement. You had to really squint, but you were able to make out a few figures, one with long blonde hair and one with white. You sighed with relief, Charlie and Vaggie were ok. Your attention was then also caught by another individual that was flying around, with red and white wings… six of them?! You pressed your face against the glass to try to get a better look, did an angel survive?!

“You see him too? Pretty magnificent huh? He doesn’t come out in public much,” said Claire.

“Who? The angel?” You asked still looking out the window.

“Yes, Lucifer.”

You looked at Claire with shock and then back out to the seraphim outside, then put a finger to the glass in his direction.

“That? That seraphim is Lucifer? But I thought he was a demon?” You asked.

“Oh he is, he’s both, in a way. I don’t know his story super well but I just see the bits about him in magazines. Factly, from most of what I have seen of him, he looks more like an angel than a demon most of the time.”

You were mesmerized and drawn in by the slight of those wings, how he dipped and dived with them. You have never seen a seraphim with white and red wings, and you guys you never really connected the idea that he was a fallen seraphim until now.

You continued to stare out the window as the small image of him landed in the distance. You could not pick out any details about him other than the wings and a hat of some kind. You hated how much your curiosity continued to grow when it came to him. You were starting at hate a lot of things. Well hate was a strong word… feel conflicted was probably a better term.

You were about to start thinking about what you should do now that the hotel was destroyed, when you saw the distant angel soar back into the sky and start to zap the ground with magic. Soon the beginnings of a new building were starting to form. Was he rebuilding the hotel?!

That was exactly what he was doing, and with the help of the other hotel residents, it was not long before a brand new Hazbin Hotel stood atop the eastern hill of the Pentagram. Bigger and brighter than the last. You just stood and stared out the window as it formed, dazzled and enchanted by its creation.

Eventually, you felt ready to head back to the hotel. You thanked Claire and said goodbye before you made the journey back home. The streets of hell were filled with parties and debauchery, singing the praises of the King and his Princess for fighting of the “angel scum”. Normally a comment like that would make you mad, but now… it made sense. Their view of Heaven and angels made sense.

You made it back to the hotel, and found Charlie standing outside, marveling at her new hotel with Vaggie. You walked up behind them a ways.

“Room for one, please?” Charlie and Vaggie turned around at the sound of your voice, Charlie’s eyes started to water as she ran to you.

“(Y/fn)! You are ok!” She said, enveloping you in a tight hug, “I was so worried! I’m glad you are safe.” You smiled and hugged her back.

“I’m glad you guys are ok too. What all happened?”

Charlie and Vaggie went over the summary of the battle, the dome Alastor made, Adam being Adam, Sir Pentious, who was another resident you did not get to meet, was killed, Charlie’s guardian, Dazzle, being killed, then Lucifer showing up at the end to put a stop to Adam, but that it was Niffty that killed Adam.

You blinked, “Adam, the first man, is dead?” Charlie nodded. Some thing in your heart was both broke and soared hearing that, you grabbed your shoulder when you still felt the pain of your missing wing, and furrowed you brow.

“Good… that piece of shit had it coming…” Charlie and Vaggie were surprised by you words, so were you, “I mean… look at all this trouble he has caused! He sounded like a complete asshole!”

“Yes! He was!” Charlie proclaimed. You all laughed.

You looked around, “Your dad still here?”

Charlie shook her head, “No, he went home. Fighting and using as much creation magic as he did makes him tired very quickly. Look at all he made!” She said gesturing to the hotel.

“It really is marvelous, you’ll have sinners knocking door these doors to get in for sure!” You looked around. Something about this magic felt familiar someone, but you couldn’t quite pin how it felt familiar.

Charlie laughed, “I sure hope so!”

You looked over at her, it’s wild how much of a beacon of hope she was. You grabbed her hand and she looked at you with surprise.

“Charlie… thank you, for everything. How can I ever repay you for your kindness?”

Charlie smiled and held your hand back “Just do your best while you are here, for yourself and others. I still don’t have proof that rehabilitation actually works… but if it does, I want us all to support each other as best we can!”

That sounded very similar to what Claire had said earlier. You didn’t think it was possible to redeem sinners, but even if they couldn’t, you all can work to make Hell a better place. You smiled “I will Charlie, I’ll be the best that I can, and I’ll figure out what I can do you help others too. I’ll just need to time to figure out what that is…”

“It sounds like a great start” Vaggie added, “Now come on! It’s dinner time and Alastor is breaking in the new kitchen.” You followed Charlie and Vaggie inside, ready to fully start your new life inside the hotel.

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